Stuck in the airport, VIP style

Ok, worse fates have happened than being stuck in the airport for 6 hours on one of the last travel days before the holidays. At least I have my father's gold status access to the VIP lounge. YESSSSSS!!!

I knew I was at least 3.5 hours delayed when I came to the airport, but I figured it would still be best to get here so that I could follow the progress from the ground, if you will. Plus I intentionally had no food in my room since I'm leaving for three weeks, haha.

I got to the airport and it's absolute hell in the check-in area. So clogged that you can't even move in some places. And it sounds really terrible to say, but I'm leaving from terminal 1 (the one that looks like a hamster run), which is where a number of African airlines operate. Ok that's not the terrible part, here's the terrible part: all the people checking in have about a million bags. Nothing against them and their bags, but man, there were a lot of obstacles. And to make the discrimination more even, there were also plenty of dippy American girls with their Longchamps bags who were studying abroad for the semester and "wow, I don't know how it happened, I went shopping and all of a sudden I needed a third suitcase!"

Anyway, once I was able to check in my bags, everything got better because I was told I could go to the VIP lounge, HAHA. Needless to say, I made a beeline here:



Check out all the free food (I'm stuffed):


And booze (sorely tempted..there's even all the ingredients to make a bloody mary from scratch!...but I'm being good):



Before I got here, though, I had a hilarious experience at the passport check. I handed the guy my passport, who looked at my permanent residency card and was super confused. He asked me if I spoke French and I said yes, so then he was like, "where did you get this card?" And I was like, "at the prefecture, in the 11th arrondissement..." And he was like, "why?" And I was like, "well, the ENS told me I had to and made the appointment for me, so I showed up!" And he was like, "wow, it's really interesting, I've never seen one like this before!" Then he proceeded to ask me all about what I had to go through to get it, so I told him about the awkward French topless moment and all the hoops I had to jump through. We were laughing like old buddies by the time I got through. In the end he was like, "wow, I had no idea, I'm still really confused by the whole thing, particularly since your visa is valid for the whole time you're here..." I was like, "yeah, I don't know either, sorry I couldn't tell you more!" Then he wished me a good flight and that was that. haha.

I'm officially losing it

I just found my French bank card.

In my wallet.

I am a rockstar.

Never lose your bank card in France

I don't recommend it at all. Not that I was planning to lose my bank card when I went to pick up a new compression sleeve for my knee (see, it always comes back to the knee SOMEHOW), but still, if I had it to do over again I sure would have paid better attention to where I put that damned card.

Anyway, it took me a few days to realize that my card was gone, but I think it's a fairly logical assumption that I lost it right after buying said knee sleeve, because I remember having a ton of stuff in my hands as I was trying to leave the pharmacy. As a side note, before I continue on the subject of the card, the one good thing about pharmacies here is the service--I waltzed in to by this thing and the pharmcist even fitted me for it! Had me come to a special area, measured my knee, and gave me the one she thought would be the best. Tried it on and it fit like a glove. Well, like a tight glove, since the goal is to squeeze the swelling out, haha. In any case, that's better service than I've gotten at some so-called professional orthopedic places in the States. So if I had to lose my ATM card while buying a knee brace, at least it was while getting a classy one.

So a few days later I noticed the damned card was gone. I looked all over online and on my bank statements to find a number to call, figuring I could just call and cancel the card and order a new one on the spot.

Oh no.

How could it possibly be that easy?

I gave up trying to find a number and made my way over to my bank branch.

Another tangent: banking in France is super complicated (obviously...how could it be any other way). Once you have your company, you also have a "home" branch. So my home branch is a block down the street. The annoying thing is that all major administrative things have to be done at this home branch, and ONLY at this home branch. Any sorts of recurring payments I want to set up have to be done there (which I had to do for my cello rental), for example. And if/when I want to close the account, I can only do it there. If I had kept my Colmar account open, I would have had to "transfer" my home branch status over to one here in Paris, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to do anything without going back to Colmar, haha. Again with the American logic not quite getting you where you need to go here.

Anyway, so I went to my home branch and got the info I needed to cancel the card and order a new one. So then I had to call a number, where they made me go through, in detail, how I lost the card, when, what I was doing, blah blah blah. Once I got through that, they gave me a confirmation number I then had to take back to my home branch for the final step in ordering a new card.

I knew this couldn't possibly be easy, but what can you do, I headed over to my branch. Turns out it didn't take all that long and the woman was quite nice, but the highlight of the whole process was the letter I had to sign. The thing you need to know about French letters is that they're super ornamented with language. It's totally standard to sign with any number of formulae on the order of "I beg you to accept the expression of my highest regards" and things like that. I even have a textbook with a whole list of them.

Anyway, the letter I had to sign began as follows: "Mr. Director, I have the honor to submit to you my confirmation number for my bank card which I lost (then I had to fill in the details)."

HAHAHAHA. Isn't that great? I had the HONOR of reporting my bank card missing. I thought that was hilarious. And totally French.

In any case, who knows how long it'll take the new one to arrive. Of course I have to wait for two envelopes: one with the card and one with the pin. In September I got the card reasonably quickly but the pin took forever, so I was stuck with a card I couldn't use for like a week, haha. Let's hope they've arrived by the time I get back from the States. And with any luck the dudes who fill the ATM machines will be back from their strike so that the few ATMs with cash will stop looking like gas stations during the oil embargo.

Here's to city life!

The most memorable moments of living in big cities, hands down, has got to be when something out of the ordinary happens and people in the streets start talking to each other. That's when you realize that even though we pretend to ignore each other under normal circumstances, we're actually (for the most part, haha) totally normal and sociable people who are artificially separated by the social construction of the modern city.

In any case, these exceptional circumstances all too often involve something bad, like when my subway train got stuck under the East River and we were afraid we'd either die in an inferno or else have to evacuate on the tracks. Yes it may have reaffirmed my faith in humanity, but it wasn't particularly pleasant, either, haha. So when something exceptional and positive occurs, it's always such a magical experience.

Like yesterday, when Paris randomly got blanketed in 3 inches of snow. Not much by most standards, but here in Paris this was a Big Deal. So on my way to a meeting yesterday afternoon I grabbed my camera and headed straight to the Luxembourg Gardens:


The coolest part was seeing all the people taking pictures too, armed with cell phones, iPhones, and all kinds of cameras. This was when I realized just how noteworthy the snow was, that even regular Parisians were totally into it. We were all smiling and commenting on how beautiful the gardens were. And there were kids having snowball fights all over the place. The center basin area was closed off, which was actually awesome because it allowed for some better pictures without people in the way, haha:


And the Luxembourg Palace (where the French senate meets now):


Even Marie de Medici liked the snow, haha:


And the replica of the statue of liberty:

From there I headed on to my meeting (in the 6th, at the EHESS), and on the way I found a velib stand:


Perhaps even funnier than the stand was the dude standing next to one of the bikes trying to figure out how to clean it off. Which seemed like one of the dumber ideas I've seen in a while, because they don't clean the snow off here. Naturally. I almost bit the dust at least a few times on my walk over to the EHESS. There was no salt, and no one was about to go out of their way to shovel either, haha. So yeah, biking in those conditions, not the smartest thing. But I was nevertheless amused by the guy trying to figure out how to clean off the bike effectively.

Finally, the EHESS is right next to Sèvres-Babylone:

Of course, the snow is pretty much all gone now, but it was great while it lasted!

Thank god for the Swedes (and for Max Martin in particular)

I don't even know where to begin. There's no way I can do justice to the glory that was last night.

So every Sunday, there's a "black-blanc-beur" gay dance party at Le Redlight, a club under the Montparnasse Tower. The name of the party comes from an urban slang revalorization of the old "bleu-blanc-rouge" of the French flag, but to reflect the "white-arab-black" make-up of French society. The term BBB itself reached the height of popularity in 1998 when the ethnically diverse French soccer team won the world cup and everyone here thought it was the dawning of a new area of openness to diversity in French society. Too bad things didn't turn out quite as planned, particularly when the dream team of soccer failed to get past the first round in 2002 and Le Pen made it to the second round of the presidential elections. But all that aside: as Niamh observed, she's never seen so many gorgeous men in one place in her life. haha. Here's a poster of the event, to give you an idea:


I've been meaning to get to it for weeks, but the timing hasn't been right. Finally, when Mehammed told me that this week's theme was Britney, I knew it had to happen. And I knew Bryan had to be there. As Bryan said, "I'm home!"

Bryan and I got there before the others:


Then we were joined by Mehammed, who introduced us to his friend Nabil. This picture is so hot I can't stand it:
There were two highlights of the evening. The first is the line dance they do every week, which is SUPER complicated. This is not your macarena or electric slide. There's in fact very little repetition, so it's not like you just learn 10 steps or whatever and are done. Oh no, this is like a good 10 minutes of choreography, I'm not kidding. It's set to a Brazilian type of music, and it's nothing short of amazing. Particularly when you've got the drag queens gettin' down too:


As Bryan said, "Gay line dancing, could my life GET any better?"

As if that weren't enough, there's also a show near the end. After a few fairly routine (but impressive) dance numbers, we got to the moment that quite literally took my breath away with its sheer political incorrectness. I mean, I've seen some pretty staggering moments of political incorrectness in this country, and I never know what to make of it. Part of me is aware of the fact that I'm an overly sensitive American who has been indoctrinated by anglo-saxon society that there are certain things you just don't say. And I realize that it's not always the most productive attitude. However, the fact remains that there are indeed things you JUST DON'T SAY. Or DO, in this case.

Like, for example, having the black guy do the dance to "I'm a slave 4U" while dressed in bondage. Yeah, you read that right. And to prove it I even have a picture:


Can you imagine??? Bryan and I literally had our hands covering our mouths, as our jaws were on the floor. And the crowd LOVED it. I'd like to give the whole organization credit for doing it ironically (in the sense of recuperating the stereotype and manipulating it in their own ways), but I'm honestly not sure that was the case. There's a clear subversion going on, it's not like it was for an audience of primarily white people or anything. So it's perhaps not as bad as it could seem. You certainly have to give them credit for pushing the right buttons. In a way I was impressed. But still. Let's get back to the fact that it was a black guy, dancing in bondage, to Britney's slave song. It was a serious show, they were getting down to the moves. I couldn't quite find the humor in it, which left me wondering whether they were just doing it because that's the kind of thing they can get away with here, or whether they were doing it because they were in on the joke. I think it would have perhaps been different if the tone were lighter or something, but yeah, it wasn't made all that clear that this was a subversive reclaiming or anything. Wow. My mind is still blown.

In any case, that was basically the best night of my life in Paris. I haven't had a voice for a week, and I clearly just destroyed it for another week, with all the singing we did. Yesterday I attended my research seminar and had to make a brief presentation. I had a bit of trouble with my voice for the big presentation last Monday, and my voice was decidedly worse yesterday. Cnce I finished, the prof was like, "man, that's some cold you have come down with!" I was sitting there like, "indeed...or some dance party I attended last night!" hahahaha. Didn't think that was worth sharing with the rest of the group, for the sake of my credibility :-)

In any case, certainly no regrets!

Why do I not carry my camera around all the time???

Most people know that the French have a special talent for turning anything into protest material. What might not be as apparent, however, is that they also have a special talent for turning public gatherings into an unabashed show of ridiculous, particularly when there's an easy theme to link up with. In this case, we're in the Christmas season, so there are events involving people dressed up as Santa. Yesterday, Niamh and I witnessed the perfect mix of these two traditions when we stumbled on a political protest where all the protestors were dressed as Santa Claus. I think I will regret not having my camera with me for the rest of my life, HAHA. We couldn't quite gather what they were protesting, but it was clear that they wanted someone to be freed. From jail? We don't know. All we could make out from the guy wearing RED TIGHTS, A RED SPEEDO, A SANTA CAPE, A SANTA BEARD AND A SANTA HAT was the phrase "libérez..." We're pretty sure it was a person. The protest was at the Place Monge, where there's a big branch of the Garde Républicaine (kind of the French secret service, although it's also the home of what would be the Army band and general units that participate in pomp and circumstance events like military parades). We don't know if that's why they were at Monge or not. And in the end, we were too captivated by the dude in the red tights and speedo and the 50 or 60 people following him...all of whom were dressed as Santa. Every single one. Oh yes.

Then today was the Santa-themed rollerblading outing. Since I was aware of this event, I was ready and armed with my camera:


They even served us spiced wine at the break in the middle of the route!

Anyway, the weekend just keeps getting better and better. Friday I had my acupuncture session followed by a (terrible) play and then a (great) birthday party. Saturday featured kickboxing aerobics (my knee is still cursing me) and then a Finnish Christmas party. Today was of course Day of the Rollerblading Santas, and now, to top it all off, I'm off to the weekly gay dance party, where the featured theme is Britney! Oh yessssss!!! Complete with a dance competition and what Niamh has said is a room full of the most gorgeous guys she's seen in her life. Gay or not, sign me up!

Grand Mosquee de Paris

Yesterday afternoon Kari and I decided to try out the hammam at the Paris Mosque. Given that we've both been under some pretty intense stress recently, we decided that we deserved a special "detox" session. We went for "the works," and there's really only one word to describe the experience: DIVINE. We're totally hooked. We may not be able to afford to do the works every time, but we're definitely going to find ways to get back there, it was truly incredible.

The first step in the process was the steam sauna. You go into a gorgeously tiled room that is quite hot and steamy, and there are large marble slabs where you can sit or lay down. As a side note, I can't give a very good description of the rooms because I had to take my glasses off and hence couldn't see much of anything the whole time!!! Anyway, regarding the steam room, I found I couldn't lay down because then the sweat dripped into my eyes and stung, so I sat up for the whole time. After getting a bit warmed up, you open up the packet of "savon noir" that they give you. Savon noir is apparently made from an ancient Berber recipe, and it's super cleansing. It's supposed to unclog pores and loosen the top layer of dead skin, and you're supposed to leave it on for at least 20 minutes. Once you get too hot, there's a cooler room with showers (and unlike the Russian banya where you have to jump in the cold water tub, these showers have adjustable heat settings). So the idea is to stay in the steam for as long as you can, go to the showers to cool off, then go back again for more.

Once you've sweated out all the toxins, then you go to the gommage, where a woman takes a rough scrubbing mitt and peels off the top layer of skin that the savon noir loosened. And I mean that quite literally--the dead skin comes off in rolls! It was interesting to see where the most skin came off. From what I could tell it was my forearms, shoulders, and neck, but since I couldn't see that well I don't really know. So I literally left the hammam with an entirely new layer of top skin, and it's SO soft. The woman does a good number on you, turns your skin red. But I still took that as a good sign, there sure weren't any toxins left on my skin when she was done with me, hahahaha.

Once the gommage is done (and you have to take another shower to get rid of the rolls of dead skin...it really reminded me of when you get a cast taken off after a broken arm or whatever, all the dead skin that's left), it's time for the massage. The massage is in a separate room with multiple tables and a fountain in the center, and lots of space to lounge around and relax on the sides. Lots of women were lounging on the sides and chatting. And all sorts of fancy middle eastern curtains draped around. It seriously reminded me of the most orientalized of French paintings, like Delacroix's Femmes d'Alger or Matisse's Odalisque series.

The massage is done with warm oils, and it's obviously delightful. How could it not be?! At one point the masseuse found a particularly solid knot in my shoulder and was like, "that's a knot right? It feels like a bone but it can't be!" hahaha. She worked on it long and hard. Perhaps the funniest part was that each of our masseuses offered an extra 10 minutes of massage in exchange for an under the table bribe. Which we readily accepted, haha. I'm sure they all do it, kind of like how if the bartender gives you a free drink you give him a tip of what the drink would have cost. So we had absolutely no problem tipping the masseuses for our extra 10 minutes, since we're both total balls of stress!!!

After all that, you go get dressed and go out to the cafe area for a cup of tea (which was part of our deal). So we then spent another hour or so soaking up the atmosphere in the cafe and drinking first tea and then jugs of water. I had enough to drink beforehand and was totally fine, but I did wake up with a headache this morning. I drank more and more water and that seemed to fix it.

All in all, it was a total highlight, one of the best things I've ever done here. It's obviously got to happen again, my life will never be the same again.

Been spending most my life, living in a meatlover's paradise...

The heterosexual meateaters club would be very, very proud of me. Actually, the "heterosexual" part has nothing to do with it, this trip was ALL about the meat. Those of you who knew the old Kathryn will be shocked.

So my first two days were in Besançon, which is in eastern France near the Swiss border. Besançon is located in the Franche-Comté department of France, which some of you may know is super famous for its cheese. Since I couldn't appreciate the cheese-based regional specialties, the family I was visiting decided it would be time for a meatlover's festival. And meatlovers it sure was. And booze lover's, actually, for better and for worse!

Our first lunch was comprised of an appetizer of fresh baked ham slices marinated in a viniagrette, followed by fried chicken drumsticks and freshly homemade French fries. yum. There was also an aperitif of anisette and then a regional white wine specialty for the main dish. And fresh fruit for dessert.

Then for dinner we started with a duck foie gras (which I actually rather liked!) along with two different kinds of sausages and a strange bread-like thing that had ham in the middle, followed by a beef stew with zucchini and eggplant and some other stuff. And fruit salad for dessert. Oh, and a kir as an apero, then a regional red wine for dinner (the kir was great, made with the regional white, I wasn't a huge fan of the red).

The next day we started lunch with a different kind of foie gras, this time it was it was done with pork and beef (who knew?). Then for the main dish we had what basically amounted to veal meatballs, which were delicious. All sorts of seasonings. And a homemade tart for dessert! Anisette for the apero and red wine for the main course.

By dinnertime I was still solidly stuffed. But the meateating had to go on, we had the same two kinds of sausages and a duck foie gras for an apero and then an omelet and potato dish with ham. Equally good, equally heavy.

On day 3 I headed to Alsace, where the regional specialty IS meat, haha. So there was no question that it would be 4 more days of unabashed consumption of meat. What I didn't expect, however, was that my host is an INCREDIBLE chef, so I was spoiled rotten.

Lunch on day 3 was actually mussels in a curry sauce, which I'm going to count as a type of meat for our purposes.

Then dinner that night was slices of smoked duck and then a slice of ham, which was so impressively displayed on the plate that I took a picture:

Yes, the ham slice is in fact shaped as a rose. And there were slices of mango on there too. Yummmmm.

The next day we did lunch in a restaurant, where I had a delicious pork dish. And because no trip to Alsace is complete without some good old spaetzle (basically alsatian egg noodles), I had some of that too.

We were still solidly stuffed for dinner, so we had some freshly homemade foie gras, which was also really delicious.

On Sunday, lunch was fresh rabbit, which was also quite tasty. And I even got my own sauce, made with soy milk!

For dinner we were back to the smoked duck and ham, since we had such a heavy (but delicious...really!) lunch.

Finally, on Monday before I left, I was served another meal of the really tasty mussels.

So, all in all, that means over the course of 6 days I had: ham, pork, beef, veal, chicken, mussels (close enough to a meat), duck, and rabbit. And who knows what else I'm forgetting!

I think I gained a good 5 pounds, but I'm too intimidated to check!!!

Exposé

Since I've gotten some questions (and apparently since I'm procrastinating from doing my real work), just thought I'd whip up a quick update on the exposé last night, which went quite well despite my lack of a voice, haha.

Anyway, my big concern on the presentation was that since I was giving it to a room full of unabashed sociologists, I sort of figured the feedback I'd get at the end would be on the order of trying to turn me into a straight sociologist as well. So I thought long and hard about how I wanted to frame the presentation so that the audience would understand that the literature is at the heart of my topic and that the sociology is a means to an end rather than an end in and of itself.

And overall I think I did a good job framing it that way. It made sense in my head, and I thought I communicated that idea well. I spent a long time developing the topic and explaining my logic in how I came to the joint methodology. And I think some people got it, but a lot of them didn't. haha. So yeah, I pretty much called it, got lots of feedback trying to turn me into a sociologist. One guy said he was "disappointed" that I didn't do more quantitative analysis on the dynamics of the field. I almost said I was "disappointed" he didn't get my topic, HAHAHAHA. He also wanted to know what my theoretical foundations were, since he thought I needed to be incorporating more sociology of literature. I had a lovely moment of satisfaction when he asked me if I knew work by Gisèle Sapiro and I was able to say that I'm putting her on my committee, haha. Of course I haven't popped the question to her yet so I damn well better do so this week so that it doesn't get back to her that I'm announcing her as a member of the committee before she even knows she's on there, hahahaha. But we get along great and I'm working quite closely with her on her latest project, so I can't imagine there will be any problem. I will get on that now!!!

Anyway, the other highlight of the evening came after the presentation, actually. There was this kid who kept asking me the same question over and over, and the question made no sense. I had no freakin' clue what he was trying to ask, and he was slightly condescending and kept saying "ok, I'll rephrase it." Eventually the prof in charge of the seminar cut him off and moved on. Afterwards, the prof leaned in close to whisper to me, "sorry about that, he's one of my students who never ceases to say stupid things, he always wants to apply anachronisms, using today's language to talk about stuff in the past, so I cut him off so he wouldn't waste more of our time." Love it!

So there you have it, all in all it was fine. Not necessarily life-changing, but fine. They complimented my style, saying the relaxed atmosphere was "very American." And they meant it as a compliment, that I wasn't trying to be super formal or anything. And a few of the participants came up to me afterwards to talk about some other related topics. They're the ones who actually got the presentation, so it was great to engage with them afterwards. I was absolutely beat by that point, though, so I basically just went home and collapsed.

Now it's back to work, though, haven't done much of that recently! Will update on the trip soon!

Don't Mess with the Swiss

Well I have much to report on my grand adventure out east, but since I'm dropping with fatigue, I will start with the end of the trip.

So today was my big presentation in the research seminar, scheduled for 6 pm. I had already booked my train tickets at the time of accepting the date change, and I was scheduled to arrive back in Paris around 2:30 this afternoon. So I figured 3 1/2 hours to get home, get changed, and generally get in the mindset was reasonable.

Anyway, I got to the train station this morning and got all set up at my departure point, and the train rolled into the station. I realized right away that this was a special train because it was totally Swiss. It was a TGV (high-speed train) connecting Basel to Paris, and the decorations on the engine and outsides of the cars was all Swiss.

To make it even more obvious that the Swiss know how to do things right, we quite literally had our own steward in our car! He got out at the station to personally welcome us on board, then a little while later when he came to take our tickets, he apologized for waking me up! I had dozed off with the ticket in my hand, so he woke me up when he pulled it out of my hand to stamp it (he was even trying not to bother me!). But it was good he woke me up, since I was supposed to be reviewing for my presentation anyway, hahaha. Then he came through with beverage and snack service, just like on an airplane!!! For a fee, of course, the Swiss are nothing if not good at finding ways to take your money. But they even had gourmet teas, so I was impressed.

So there I was feeling rather smug about my Swiss train experience...when the train eased into a total stop. Then it inched forward to a station in the middle of nowhere France called Meuse, and there we sat. A few minutes later the conductor came on to say that all train traffic was indefinitely stopped because there had been a suicide on the tracks somewhere ahead of us. They opened the doors at this little station and said we could all head out if we wanted. Since it was rather warm out I went out to get some air, and our personal steward said that he didn't know much more, other than that these kinds of delays often take 4 hours.

At that point I figured my chances of making it to my presentation were rather low, so I started going through my address book until I found a friend near a computer who could email the prof and let him know (he knew I was traveling and that this was a risk, so I wasn't exceptionally concerned). She sent him a note and he called and was quite nice about it, said he'd mumble along until I got there (haha).

We ended up hanging out in the countryside near Meuse for over an hour. I took pics that I haven't pulled off my camera yet, but it's basically just of a train in the middle of nowhere, haha.

Anyway, after a while I went back on the train and started writing postcards (haha), since I also didn't see the point of practicing my presentation until it was certain I'd actually make it back on time. Eventually the conductor came on and was like, "ok, we've been cleared to start moving again." What I thought was pretty funny was that it seemed like only seconds later, the doors were closed and the train was zipping along. Don't mess with the Swiss and their efficiency, I sure hope we didn't leave anyone behind! I genuinely think that if someone had wandered off to pee in the bushes or whatever (which was totally unnecessary, the bathrooms on the train were fine), they wouldn't have made it back. That's how fast the announcement was and subsequent departure. Seriously no messing around. But the upside was that in no time we were putting the "GV" (grande vitesse = high speed) in TGV. Talk about no joke.

We made it into Paris around 4:30, so in the end it was just 2 hours late. The problem was the damned rush hour traffic, since my cab ride took forever and cost a fortune. So I didn't get back to my room until after 5, at which point I just had enough time to throw on a new shirt, whip out my presentation, and head back out. I'm glad I made it though, much happier to have it out of the way. Even if I barely had a voice.

Now I'm thoroughly exhausted and ready to collapse, but there's a salsa band playing outside my window. I have no idea why and am too lazy to go investigate.

Awkward French topless moment, Paris style!

Well, today was the much-anticipated visit to the local "prefecture" for my final regularization procedures so that I can be here legally. Otherwise known as the "awkward French topless moment."

My appointment was at 8:30, but I knew I was going to be in for the long haul when I got there around 8:05 and the line was half-way down the block. Sure enough they didn't open the doors until about 8:35, so I was stuck in the cold for a good half an hour. But I'm glad I got there when I did, since there were loads of people who arrived after me. By the time they let us in, the line was down the block and then some.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the residency card procedures is that now that most of Europe is covered by the Schengen accords, there are very few white people who actually have to go through this procedure. Sounds terrible to say it like that, but it's true. In fact, the only other white people who were there were gaggles of stupid American undergrads who didn't speak French and didn't even try. They were visible a mile away with their enormous Longchamps bags and vapid conversations about the bar scene. I pretended not to understand and ostentatiously read my French book. Too bad it was an atrociously bad book that I'm embarrassed to be seen in public with (Houellebecq, Les Particules Elementaires, I thought it would be a good idea to read it since it's so controversial, but I ended up deciding over the course of the morning that it sucked too much, so I threw in the towel and moved on to a much better one I had brought as a spare).

Anyway, we finally get in around 8:40ish, and the students are separated from everyone else. Which I found both a relief since it shortened our wait and also rather disappointing, since it made the rest of the morning significantly less interesting. All the African women in their amazing headdresses went one way, we went the other. And I was stuck listening to the aforementioned stupid Americans discuss how they don't understand why French people don't understand their massacred French.

So they finally called my name, and you go into one room to get height/weight and eyes checked. Then the fun begins. In Colmar when I had to do this last time, they put all the women in a line, told us to take off our shirts, and proceeded to march us through the chest xrays (for TB) assembly line style. Paris is way classier, we actually had three individual dressing rooms that opened up into a master xray room. So they'd go room by room, bringing one person out, telling us to take a deep breath, snapping the xray, then sending us back into our room and calling the next person. So the awkward topless moment wasn't exceptionally awkward, in the end. The problem was they were kind of slow so we had to freeze our asses off in our individual rooms before they called us. There was also a fascinating sign on the wall about French secularism, of which I managed to take a cell phone pic. But I can't seem to get the pic off my phone, haha, so that will have to wait.

Once the xray is done, you wait some more until they call you to see a second dr, who reads the results and checks your heart and bp. All that checked out fine, so then I had to wait again for a stamp, then go hand my form to another office, wait some more, and then get my official titre de sejour. Which is posted backwards because I was too lazy to use my real camera and just used photobooth. Hence the mirror image:


All that took about 2.5 hours in the end, which I thought was pretty amazing. In Colmar we had to deal with three separate visits--one for the medical stuff, one to drop off our forms, and one to pick everything up. That this was all streamlined in one visit was thus already a big deal. I was thrilled that I only had to sit around for 2.5 hours, haha. And now I'm officially legal!