You would think that moving to a fellow "Western" country is pretty simple. There's the exchange rate (which you should really just ignore because it's too depressing to think about 24/7) and the signs are in a different language, but they make their meals with the same basic vegetables and meats and they have all the bare necessities of the 21st Century, right? I mean, it's not like I'm living in India or anything...
Or am I? There doesn't seem to be any air conditioning in our school, some of the teachers think they are God's gift to this universe and I should be honored to listen to them talk at me for two hours, and ah yes, the drying machine. Apparently a modern American luxury. I mean, why on Earth would I expect my clothes to be dry after putting them in the dryer?
I was still hopeful after the first failed attempt and was willing to give it another go but the machine ate the rest of my laundry coins. And the concierge was nowhere to be found. I then had two loads of soaking wet clothes and I was about to pull an Alice and fill the room with tears...
...but I channeled that distress into determination instead and set out to find a drying rack.
Lucky for me, I had no idea where to look or what the word for "drying rack" was in French. It's a séchoir à linge in case you were wondering. Instead, I just knew the word "to make dry" (sécher) and I wandered around the stores practicing my mime skills and asking store clerks to find me something that would sécher mes vêtements. I was literally acting out taking clothes out of the wash and hanging them up to dry. FINALLY a woman who spoke un petit peu d'anglais said she might have what I wanted and she brought me to a giant séchoir that could fit my entire wardrobe on it. I started clapping and thanking her profusely at which point she thought I was truly crazy. Oh well. My clothes are now dry, that's all that matters.
Other little day-to-day things:
Or am I? There doesn't seem to be any air conditioning in our school, some of the teachers think they are God's gift to this universe and I should be honored to listen to them talk at me for two hours, and ah yes, the drying machine. Apparently a modern American luxury. I mean, why on Earth would I expect my clothes to be dry after putting them in the dryer?
I was still hopeful after the first failed attempt and was willing to give it another go but the machine ate the rest of my laundry coins. And the concierge was nowhere to be found. I then had two loads of soaking wet clothes and I was about to pull an Alice and fill the room with tears...
Lucky for me, I had no idea where to look or what the word for "drying rack" was in French. It's a séchoir à linge in case you were wondering. Instead, I just knew the word "to make dry" (sécher) and I wandered around the stores practicing my mime skills and asking store clerks to find me something that would sécher mes vêtements. I was literally acting out taking clothes out of the wash and hanging them up to dry. FINALLY a woman who spoke un petit peu d'anglais said she might have what I wanted and she brought me to a giant séchoir that could fit my entire wardrobe on it. I started clapping and thanking her profusely at which point she thought I was truly crazy. Oh well. My clothes are now dry, that's all that matters.
Other little day-to-day things:
- Security: I have to tap my key on a little electronic pad to gain entry to the overall campus and to my specific building. Super fancy. Oh, and when I tap my key at the second door getting into my building, a Siri-like voice announces vous pouvez entrer (you may enter). Why, thank you.
- Energy Conservation: pretty much everyone in the world except America is good at this. Even in common areas like stairwells and hallways, the light will either automatically turn on (and only stay on as long as you are moving) or you have to flick a switch but those ones are also on a timer. Like when I'm blogging in the common room at night and I have to wave my arms around like a crazy person every five minutes to get the lights to stay on.
- Stairs: all of the stairs. Everywhere. You want to know why Parisians are thin? It's not because they eat well or exercise...
... It's because they walk up and down 10,000,000 stairs a day. Half the buildings don't have elevators and while most of the metro entrances/exits have options between stairs and escalators, there are several parts of the metro that *gasp* you can only get through by taking the stairs. Americans would have a heart attack. Quite literally. On the other hand, we might solve our obesity problem if we got rid of all elevators & escalators...
Exhibit A: The essentials of a Parisian diet (baguette + gourmetcheesethatsmellslikedirtyfeet + saucisson) - Franglais: The language barrier is très intéressant here. There are words that look nearly the same in French and English like clandestin or simply need to be said with a French accent in order to be communicated properly (similaire) and then there are things that you can't directly translate or you'll sound stupid. For example, when you order food either for here or to go. If you literally translated that, you'd come out with pour ici and pour aller or something equally as strange. But the way they say this is actually sur place (literally: on site, on the spot) or à emporter (literally: to take). Reasons you can't just think in English and spit out the same thought using your French vocab. You actually have to learn to think in French. Which is much easier after a few glasses of wine. C'est bien vrai! I was nearly fluent after dinner Saturday night.
- And my last language lesson for the day... even when there's an English translation on the sign or the menu, it still won't make sense. I read these translations and I think I understand what I'm ordering, and then something entirely different shows up on my plate. Like that time I ordered poisson grillé and the entire fish showed up on my plate-- head, tail, and bones included. Le sigh.
It's all in good fun though. Traveling wouldn't be such an enriching experience if everything was simple! And I'm always surprised at how well I get on here. My French is (usually) much better than I expect sauf a key vocab word here and there (looking at you, séchoir). I even survived my trip to an ear doctor who didn't speak English! I consider that a victory.
Until my next misadventure,
xo A
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