Update: What is Going On?

I was clicking through my old posts, reminiscing and smiling in that way you do when you have a warm memory and I realized- it had been months since I had written! It's time for an update and briefing on the direction of this fabulous 3 year project:

As of October 22nd, 2013, I repatriated back to Portland, Oregon. This was of course a decision that was made years ago when I originally packed my 2 suitcases and jetsetted to France. 3 years later, as I packed up my life of 3 years in France, I realized that I had truly changed as a person.

3 years ago, I was freaked out and worried about not being able to wander around in beat-up plastic flip flops. 3 years later, I couldn't even imagine owning  a pair, even if every single person in Portland has a pair they proudly flop around in.

The use of a knife during dinner, the American jokes, the mis-understandings in English, bar scene, the weird dating scene...

So the project is continuing but I will be treating a topic that is often left on the back burner and truly could prove of use- the Backwards Culture Shock.

As noted, most international story blogs end with the person moving home... but we all know, especially if you have lived overseas, that this is not necessarily possible. There are constantly little things that make you think of your other culture, the one you learned to fit and adjust into.

How can you handle the backwards culture shock?

Specifically, how can you continue to live French while being in America?

These topics and more will be developed over the period of my repatriating experience... especially since in the 3+ years I've been away, Portland has become a foreign city in it's own right.

How to Sound French: The Film References

When I first moved to France, I was thrown blindly into a completely different pop culture.  I came from the culture where we quoted Jay & Silent bob (Not one French person I know gets it), Dude Where's My Car, references to flutes an inappropriate things along those lines.  Quotables are the basis of a good pop culture, and France, in her own glory, has her own quotes from films.

Mastering the quotes and watching the movies will assure that you will understand what someone means when, for example, you say something... you are contradicted, and then everyone in the room waves their right hand maniacally and shouts, "Cassséeeeeeee!!!!".

Here we go....

Bienvenue Chez les Ch'tis - Dany Boon
A film that simply details a French from the south who is forced by his job at the Post Office to relocate to the North of France, specifically, in the region of Nord-pas-de-Calais, considered to be our version of the "Backwoods" in France.

From the disgusting habit of eating a stinky cheese smothered on bread for breakfast, to the incomprehensible French dialect... the
main character Philippe Abrams (Kad Merad) eventually settles into the city and makes friends with Antoine Balleuil (Dany Boon).

Quoteables
-"C’est pas compliqué de parler le ch’timi. On ne dit pas : « pardonnez-moi je n’ai pas bien saisi le sens de votre question », on dit : « Hein ? »."
-"C'est le Nord!"

Dîner de Cons - Francis Veber


En gros a film about a high-rolling French man who gets his kicks with his buddies by inviting the stupidest person he meets to a weekly dinner.  Whoever brings the most idiotic guest wins... until one day an idiot comes that is not so much as idiot as he thinks... 


Some really quite funny scenes (better in original French with subtitles if French isn't your strong point), some involving adding vinegar to wine in order to trick a tax inspector, an obsession with match stick creations...


Quoteables
-"Il a une belle tête du vainqueur" - Reference used when they go hunting for the "idiots".


"-Il s'appelle Juste Leblanc.
-Ah bon, il n'a pas de prénom?
-Je viens de vous le dire Juste Leblanc... Votre prénom c'est François, c'est juste? Eh bien lui c'est pareil, c'est Juste."

Les Visiteurs - Jean-Marie Poiré


Typical time travel, misplaced group of knights put in the 20th century.  A re-make was done by Americans, Just Visiting, which follows about the same plot-line.


Quoteables
-"Je suis Godefroy Amaury De Malfète, comte de Montmirail, d’Apromont et de Papimcourt, fils d’Aldebert de Malfète et de Thibaude de Montfaucon... Je suis ton aieul."


-Et on lui pèlera le jonc comme au bailli du Limousin !
Qu’on a fendu un beau matin.
Qu’on a pendu ! Avec ses tripes !"

Brice de Nice - James Huth
Jean du Jardin has become a household name since the Oscar's glorification of The Artist, but before Du Jardin was a grand actor, he as a comedian.  From Un Gars et Une Fille to the movie Brice de Nice, he was never really that serious.


Brice de Nice, is just that, a 30 year old surfer from Nice named Brice who is constantly hunting the perfect "wave".  However, he doesn't really KNOW how to surf since he lives in Nice where the waves are totally calm.  Travelling around and finally ending up in a competition for surfing, there are endless, and really strange, references and jokes.


Casser
While there is not a specific quoteable, the most important concept is to understand "Cassée", literally, "broken".  Brice de Nice constantly is able to basically pull out French versions of yo mama jokes, and when he wins, he swings his right arm from shoulder to crotch, in a cutting fashion, proving that you, indeed, have been "broken".


French people tend to do this everywhere, if you are proved wrong, "T'es cassé", if you are saying really stupid things, "cassé", Political pundants having a debate and one says something totally off-handed, "CASSE".


Voilà, that's the start to French culture.. of course there are more to come.  American movies still are popular, but often under French names (ie: le sixième sens, le Projet Blair Witch, SOS Phantpmes (ghostbusters), etc)


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The Little Things...

Recently I was just about to cross the street, it was around 9pm in the evening and Bri and I had ordered Chinese takeout.  We stepped onto the street and noticed something very odd, the guy in front of us had whipped out his zizi and was taking a whizz, in plain public, on the crosswalk.

Now, I've seem some oddities in my life abroad, but this is probably a moment that took the cake.  To have the balls (excuse the pun) to pee in public, and I mean, show the wares to everyone and everything...

It got me thinking... There have been many moments that I've said, that would never happen in the states. And thus, this blog is going to be dedicated to those little things that are just cultural.

Homeless Dudes and Cheap Wine
I remember back in the states, many of the Homeless people had cans of cheap PBR or even whisky or vodka.  In France, these homeless, while 10x stinkier than in the states, are also a bit classier.  I happen to observe the homeless around the city, instead of avoiding, and most of them tend to have a bottle of wine in their hands.  How very French for the homeless people to get exceedingly drunk on a bottle of wine.  Of course, glasses are not needed.

Teaching Kids to Pee on Walls
I actually wrote this down in my journal once, scribbled quickly as if I was shocked.  Due to a lack of public, clean toilets, many people end up peeing in public (although rarely in cross-walks), and thus arrives the "teaching your child to pee in front of everyone on this very public wall" moment.  The kid was maybe, 5 years old, mom huddled over showing him how to do his business.

The Soft Porn of Cheese
I watch a lot of French television, it tends to help me keep up my comprehension, plus dating a Senator's assistant means lots and lots of political news pundits.  I always prepare myself mentally when the commercials come on, notably the cheese commercials.  They always start the same, soft beating music lulling and enticing the audience to watch what's happening... suddently a hand reaches over to a cheese, Roquefort, Caprice de Dieu, St. Agur, slices a piece off and takes a bite.  The minute the presumabely French person bites into the cheese, suddenly they are transported to a paradise... rain falls, and it seems as though they love it so much they could marry it.  If you don't believe me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YEmgb7ZCWE

Seriously, he grips the wood as though eating St. Agur provides such an immense pleasure... total soft porn.

I think I could make a whole separate post on just marketing strategies in France.

Get In Line at 6pm For Baguettes
Without fail, I receive a text every night before I leave work from Bri, "Do we hav bread?" because he knows I forget.  So as I haul my bag of work home, I end up in like at 6:20pm with all the other French after-work crowd.  As addictive as cigarettes, the baguettes is an absolute requirement in order to eat any French meal.  So there is always an insane line of at least 10 people, each one ordering the same or a variation,

Une baguette s'il vous plaît,
Une banette s'il vous plaît....


The line seems enormous, but it passes quickly and we all retreat home with a long and crispy baguette under our arms.

My Dog Poops EVERWHERE
I notice it more in Paris than I did in Lyon, but people let their dogs squat anywhere and let it loose, thus resulting in a sort of Indiana Jones commute to work.  I feel like I'm avoiding piles of the stuff every day, luckily I always was the type to watch my feet... so mess avoided! I have yet to step in a pile of crap (knock on wood).

More to come...

Not so Green Lyon

When I was living in Portland I always considered Europe to be this magical place- I was told by an exchange student that lived with us when I was 16 that Public Transportation was abundant, recycling not simply a concept but a way of life.

I had a fabulous presentation in my Master's program late Friday afternoon from a renowed Quebecian nature lover and guest teacher.  Fabien Durif flew in from his corner of Canada, his slightly twanging Quebecois accent and a slew of ideas my fellow collegues had never heard.

Movement Vert
Green Washing
Consommation Responsable
Ecotourism
Organics

After saying 'Vert' about 20 times someone in the class finally raised his hand and inquired, "Messieur, qu'est-ce que c'est cette chose verte que vous parlez?" The teacher stopped short, and explained briefly.  Of course this movement doesn't EXIST in France, it's simply a way of life... or is it?

Portland was always sort of top when it came to the Green Movement of the early 2000's, we had electric busses, a sort of recycling system that was foreward-moving.  I was taught how to maintain a compost in my apartment when I moved off by myself at 19, a lovely plastic box that magically transformed my waste into useable plant dirt.

Bri made me throw this away when he moved in with me May of 2009, he said it was disturbing to sleep in the apartment knowing there were worms in a vox- well to each his own.

You can imagine my shock when I moved to Lyon and was struck by a city that knew little of recycling or even how to lighten the carbon footprint.

Now, Europe, specifically Lyon, has their own methods and styles of what they call 'green', or in French éco.  I am constantly being pointed out that the Americans leave the water running during showers, or our wasteful use of electricity when we leave the house.

So in what ways does Lyon recycle and in what ways really need to be improved?


What They Do Well:

Organic Produce

Tuesday through Sunday are the market days, vendors, farmers and local producers haul out their natural and edible goods for us to purchase at a normal price.  The positive is that many of these producers are naturally organic or bio and leave us with a fabulous, non-treated product.

Recycling
An automatic response when I see someone throwing away a carboard box or can is, That is recyclable! My mother had ingrained it into my head, she would fish out any paper I would throw away and I was disgusted... of course now 7 years later I do the same.  In Lyon we have a recycling system in our apartment building, nice because you can toss all recyclables together into a giant container... the issue?

Showering in France
Water is truly seen as a resource in the eyes of a European so much so that when showering we have a five step process:

1. Turn water on, get water all over
2. Turn water off
3. Lather up with soap while water is off
4. Turn water on
5. Rinse

Usually the water only remains on for a total of 7 minutes, unlike our 20-30 minute showers in the United States.  This is the argument from most French people when I mention the 'green'ness of Americans, they can't see how we are green if we are so wasteful with a resource.  They are right.

The next is the consumption of electricity,

Lights Out
Bri was appalled at our waste of electricity in the US, and I see why.  In France we shut everything off in the evening, when we leave the house, when we are not in a room.  Electricity is very expensive so wasting it tends to not even be an option.  It's almost an anal-rententive reaction, every time you leave a room switch it off.  Eventually, it becomes ingrained into your mentality and you feel strange if a light is on in a room and no one is in it.

Velo'v System
Probably one of the greastest innovations in Europe, the Velo'v system, which originated in Lyon, has revolutionized public transportation by facilitating a bike-share system that is affordable and convenient for users.  For a fee of 15€ a year, a user has 30 minutes each trajet and the possibility to return at any depot.  Still waiting for an effective system like this in Portland.

Public Transportation
Europe is truly the master of public transport, never have I had an issue with a bus or a tramway or even an underground subway.  Fabulous system, mediocre priced... again much more adept to the green movement than in US.

To Be Improved:

Recycling
These containers are non-existant around the city.  When you drink a disposable coffee cup you have no choice but to toss in a normal trash can on the street.  There are more and more "dual trash cans" with the choice between yellow and green (yellow recyclable, green waste) but many people don't use this system effectively.

Organic Produce
Like in America, there has been this movement for Bio and Green Washing; this movement has left many store brands to stick a green label on the product without really even having proof... this label guarantees an augmentation of price between 10-25% above market price and... well needless to say it's not truly the concept of the green movement.

Composting
There is a non-existent system of composting in France that is left to be improved, while in San Francisco there are canisters of composting buckets that accepts any organic material to be composted, in Lyon I have found no way to get rid of material of this sort.

Over-all Lyon is ahead, but not the best in Europe... in fact I see piles of plastic cups sitting around in canisters and no composting... but I think the Green Fever is going to catch on and it won't be just a fad. 

Adventures in the Metro

Living in a large European city teaches you many different things such as: get used to that 15 minute walk with heavy groceries, or, don't make eye contact with that scraggly looking group of youth, or even, be friends with your butcher.


The one thing I still haven't mastered since my year and a half in Lyon is What To Do On the Métro.

Public transportation is inevitable, even if I wanted to avoid the bus or the underground subway line I couldn't!  You see, even with the fabulous bike share system and the potential to walk anywhere with my two feet- the métro is juste faster and easier.

Or is it?

In Lyon there are 4 lines of the underground Métro system, 2 lines of forniculars, 4 lines of over-ground tramway system, a multitude of electric buses and and ever more selection of bus lines.  All information is available from the TCL Website.

Today's focus will be: The Underground Métro:

Line A, or the RED LINE goes from Perrache in the center to Vaulx-en-Valin la Soie (or whatever on the spelling) out on the East side of Lyon.  This line utilizes the typical system, a dude sitting and driving it.  However, this also causes some issues in regards to timing. The driver will sometimes wait at a stop, more than necessarily, probably picking his French teeth or laughing his French laugh.  This wait makes us all uncomfortable, and everyone begins to be aware of time passing- watches are checked ever 20 seconds, feet start tapping with impatience...

Line B, or the BLUE LINE goes from Stade de Gerland to Charpennes.  Basically a great line to avoid unless being transferred to the Centre Commercial de la Part-Dieu which is necessary when taking a train, doing Christmas shopping.. or even going to a Football Match (Stade de Gerland).

Line C, or the ORANGE LINE (really looks yellow, but I'm not picky) goes from Hôtel de Ville to La Croix Rousse.  It's a really odd métro line, why do I say this?  Because it resembles a sort of fornicular or cable car.  Everything is in a sort of slanted angle, when on the métro you have to do a sort off lean forward in order to not fall on your neighbor.  La Croix Rousse is up on a hill, so logic tells you the Métro is basically climbing a hill.  Same as the RED LINE, the ORANGE LINE has a manual driver which switches every end stop, and takes at least 7 minutes to start up.  But, a lot easier to take the métro than walk up the giant hills of the Croix Rousse.

Line D, or the GREEN LINE, goes from Gare de Vaise to Gare de Vénissieux.  Neither of the Gares is a nice place to be, so at my advice I use the Green line to get closer to Ikea (in St. Priest), get to Vieux Lyon... and that's about it.  Oh, word to the wise:  This line is a-u-t-o-m-a-t-e-d!  This means there is like a 5 minute passing period, if it's at the stop... RUN!  Once the beeping starts, you better jump into the train otherwise you will be waiting an efficient 3 minutes for the next one.

What to Do On the Métro, and What NOT To Do
Getting on the métro can be a terrible experience for those unprepared.  Between 4PM and 6PM every day there is a sudden flux of individuals all pressing to get home for dinner.  Baguettes stick people in the bum, bags are shoved into your chest, and with the métros having a limit of people- well that disappears.  If you want to catch a métro you must go in elbows first. Don't be afraid to push and jump into the craziness!  So:

Rule #1:  Elbows First.

Then you're on the métro, you have some posters glued along the side panels, lovely flourescent lights lining the ceiling.  Most likely a smelly homeless man shoved away in the corner, smelling grotesquely like an ogre.  There will probably be a group of hoodlums hanging in the corner and shouting to each other.  Now the question is, where to go?  If you have enough room to elbow through to a safe spot... In this case:

Rule #2: Find the Grandma.

So you've successfully gotten into the métro, situated yourself next to Grandma.  One thing is clear from this moment,

Rule #3: Look Anywhere but Other People's Eyes, AKA Avoid Eye Contact

Look any where else, that poster you've read a million times, your iPhone game, your hang nails.  Many French people will occupy themselves by chewing on their nails- if you want to avoid a terrible habit simple count the lines in the ceiling.  It is difficult to find things to do on the métro, but everyone is in the same position.

Looking around, you'll notice how hard everyone is trying to look anywhere but in someone's eyes.  On the métro, even though you're practically in your neighbor, it's as if we don't really exist in the same place.

Now, your stop is arriving...

Rule #4: Elbows Out to Exit the Métro

Don't let them French people get you stuck, just shout clearly, "excusez-MOI!" and elbow them.

Or you could always just get a year pass to Velo'V and bike it!

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Culture Shock: The Teacher Who is a Troll

I didn’t like him when I started the class, the first class was him pretty much shouting out random French law ideals and saying, “No one knows the definition of LAW?  Who has taken LAW?”  He resembles a troll, with a slightly high-pitched voice, and jeans slightly too small.

I meekly raised my hand, it was 8am in the morning and I was in no mood to be bothered by some French man.  He pointed at me and barked out, “What is LAW?”

I shook my head, “No, I learned in America, not in France.”

He barked again, this time adding a fancy wavering to his voice, “Oh yah? How great for you, then SURELY you can give me a definition!” I shook my head again.

What a douche.

It only gets worse, there are some things the teacher does that I’m wondering if the others find normal.:

Every few seconds he slaps his hands on the table, “S’il vous PLAIT!  S’il VOUS PLAIT!!” If he hears even the slightest of whispers.

Cell phones? Forget it.  He loves to point out whoever is using their phone, shout how abnormal it is to use it, and then continue on his rants which we are supposed to pretty much write “word-for-word”.  Very interesting (smell the sarcasm here).

When explaining a topic, he gets oddly quiet in the speech… slowly… and then suddenly he SHOUTS! LOUDLY! I am wondering if he potentially has a form of turrets, control issues perhaps.

The worse is his physical ticks, no joking, from picking his nose with a mouchoir in front in the class, standing one leg up on a chair in a Napoleonic stance while stratching and bouge his balls without even being shy about it, or the best: picking his ears and flicking the findings towards our tables.

I think it’s the ball stratching, the random shouting and his too big white button up shirts that get to me.  I mean really.  Stop picking your ears, moving your nether regions around and shouting… then I might be able to have a sense of respect.

Mastering the Art of the French Master's Degree

First off, I should probably explain what is going on at the moment and why I disappeared for about a month.

I've been getting many helpful comments and nice things being said about me but I barely have had a moment to log on and to even say THANKS!

September of this year I officially started a Master's degree in International Business Management in Lyon.  In order to create more of a challenge I decided, given the choice between two programs, to go with the program entirely in French.  Even better I decided to pick the intensive Master 2 Professional option which meant about 32 hours of classes a week.  Oh, let's just add that I was working, as well, around 18.5 hours a week at Wallstreet Institute.

You can imagine my typical day, as detailed in my last blog post.

Well, there truly is an art to the French Masters, even an art to studying in France.  It started with the intensity of the courses for me and wounded up in a climatic end of term finals where I about ripped out my hair from stress.

Shall we?

What Happens in Class
After a sleepless night and nightmares where I lost all ability to communicate in French, I arrived in my Master's class with my college-ruled American notebook and a single pen.  As I settled into the uncomfortable plastic seats and nodded around the class, practically whispering, bonjour, I noticed immediately that I was not well prepared.  Three girls glimpsed over my 'school materials' and then pulled out their own lumpy pencil bag, deftly picking out three different colors of pens, a ruler and either white sheets of paper or lined paper that gave me a headache to look at.

I scoffed to myself, what a bunch of overachievers, until I noticed even the laziest looking guy in my class had at least 2 colors and a ruler laid out in front of him.  My throat began to become dry as I suddenly felt like that dumb American foreigner and quickly reached into my bag to see if I had another color of pen.

Before I could find the second color, the teacher came exploding through the door, "Bonjour classe, donc, je suis veille France et donc je ne supporterai pas les ordinateurs, téléphone portables ni les SMS" I sighed quietly as I glanced over to see if I was supposed to start noting or what, she continued, "Et je n'enverrai pas les Power Points donc prennez bien vos notes" Well merde at that one.  I was at least relying on some back support in my American in France learning struggle, but I prepared my hand for the noting battle.

Looking back on my notes for that day I almost feel pity for myself, I had tried to note as fast as possible, but got lost in the dialogue, the questions my colleagues posed, the language itself.  Many of the passages said things like, "Une entreprise ????  donc important de ???" Where I was meant to miraculously fill in the blanks at home and try to get the sense.

I noted as the others used abbreviations, multicolors to change the theme and rulers to create perfectly level lines.  The precision was utterly disgusting but yet somehow exciting at the same time, I find the French people to be, in my opinion, the most apt to OCD in the world.  I also suddenly had an urge to use those weird multi lined bloc notes to organize and create some absolute precision in my writing.

Oh, and, the teacher's do not really want your opinion, even though they ask.  If you have the balls to answer, be prepared to be grilled on the topic until you turn a beet red in frustration and shrivel into your shirt.  They are talking at you, the underling, and you must simply note what they say.

Also, no homework. Everything is based on tests.

So advice for those wanting to pursue a degree in France?

• Let go of the College Ruled paper, embrace the Bloc Notes
• If possible, bring a computer
• If possible, bring a charger
• Don't eat during class, otherwise you will here some rampant mumblings about the American stereotype
• 3 colors of pens
• A ruler for lovely lines
• LABEL LABEL LABEL (otherwise you'll end up like me and freaking out during dead week)
• Buy a classeur to organize your notes
• Ask if the teacher sends the slides

Team Work in France

I am lucky enough the have the experience to be in a class with 85% French people.  The only foreigners are myself, a girl from China, from Cambodia and from Spain.  In a class of 25 people, we are almost forced to work in a team with at least 2 Frenchies.

My first experience in a team was, well, lost in translation.  In the States I was the queen of leadership and team organization, toujours type A personality.  The biggest challenge was suddenly being thrown with 3 Frenchies for 3 hours to create a team presentation and project.

Their version?  Shout, debate and argue until we are exhausted enough to drag ourselves to get a coffee, drag ourselves back and argue once again until we vomit some form of work.  Luckily, I was able to organize the team enough to create an agenda, minimalize the arguing and come home with a freakin' awesome grade for my team.  Oh, if ever curious about grades, I wrote a blog on that: Grading in France, and we received an 18/20, because 20/20 only God can get, and 19/20 only teachers can get so we were 3rd.

Advice?

• Don't be afraid to Be American, make an Agenda and stick to it, even if they follow some random chemins of conversation
• Speak slow and deliberate, even if they are shouting and speaking quickly
• Understand the topic before you try and traite it

Les Partiels aka Final Exams

I got the handle on the note-taking during classes enough to start high-lighting and multi-color pen using to my heart's content.  I, however, was not prepared for the final exams.  As a girl in class warned me, Prépares-toi, j'ai reçu un 3/20 dans un examen l'année dérnière.  I gasped at that revelation and proceeded to memorize, and rememorize the material in order to simply barf it back up during the tests.

With my book size of notes I memorized facts, dates, chemins, charts, graphs, exhaustive explanations on Theories of Economics.  In French.  When the day of the test came it was like this:

1. Read this 20 page case
2. Analyse the case
3. Regurgitate any relevant information on these University marked Sheets
1. IN PEN
2. NEVER IN PENCIL
4. You have 2 hours

Oh my goodness.  By the end of the week and 6 final exams (12 hours of writing in 3 days) my hand was literally cramping, my vision was blurry and I broke down crying on the Friday.

Did it pay off? Sure, the first exam I received back was 13/20, knowing the highest grade was 15.5... so I was not a dummy American who couldn't speak French!

Advice:

• Study constantly throughout the term
• Record classes and relisten to difficult sessions (I relistened to the last two sessions)
• Use black or blue ink, white out for mistakes
• Use scrap paper to write thoughts and nice paper to rewrite
• For a week before the exams restrain from English
• GET SLEEP, staying up all night to study will not guarantee a better grade

So Now What?

Well, now, Wallstreet Institute is done, my last day, sadly, was last week.  I continue my tutoring, hoewever, pulling in an average of 8 students a week on top of classes I am taking.  I write my notes, retype my notes and relisten to classes.  My goals are to get the highest grade on one of the tests during the term, but it's only an over-achiever American hope of mine.

Next step is an Internship.   Oh LORD!

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Culture Shock: Things I Miss... Top 11

It's been more than one year since I've lived in France, recalling that I came with weak conversation skills and an open mind, one can't help getting homesick.  I thought recently, what is it that I truly miss? You know everyone has their weaknesses, the French I've met over the years displaced in Portland talk non stop about great baguettes or cheese.

For me I decided to compile a list, mostly to remember what's back at home and also a sort of 'To Do' checklist of things I want to do next summer if I can get back.

Starts with the Top Ten (Plus One).

1. My Family. I received news over the weekend that my Grandfather is dying of cancer.  I had to call him from my ligne fixe and say goodbye over the phone.. it made me truly miss my family, my dad, my mom... my sister and my brother.  There is never a day that doesn't go by that it's difficult to not pick up the phone and say, Hey let's meet for lunch!
2. My girlfriends. I had a close group of 4 girls that I'd been friends with since high school, one of which is a friend of about 10 years.  I am missing all their drama, drunken nights, our adventures around Portland.
3. Portland. My city, my hometown.  While Lyon is charming in it's classy city life, Portland was so clean and fresh... a city of artists and nature lovers.  I worry I will go back and everything will have changed, hopefully for the positive.
4. Taco Bell. Judge me if you must, but there is something familiar in those greasy tacos I'd buy at 3am in the morning with my girlfriends...
5. Good Indian food. Sorry but Lyon has not impressed me in her Indian food, everything cultural in regards to foreign foods is completely "Frenchized', bread added to the menu, fois gras tossed into the sushi, bagels smeared with roquefort (YUCK).
6. Good Sushi. Again, there's is something seriously wrong when my sushi has Fois Gras in it.  Mayonnaise? Good lord.  I just want a freakin' maki that's not 4€ a plate of 6 sushis.  I miss that cheap sushi that I could buy that was great quality.
7. Real Happy Hour.  Oh man, can't even say how much I miss a Portland brew and a plate of greasy corn dogs and fries for only 5€.  I has just discovered happy hour for a year before I left to live in France, and in France... you know what Happy Hour is?  Discounts on drinks, but no food.
8. Food Carts.  Yes, we got pizza carts and kebab carts, but no, not that awesome phenomenon from Portland... where at any hour in the night or day there's a cart set up with your heart's content of food.  Vegan tacos? Yes.  Greasy putine? Yes.
9. Food Network. Enough said.
10. Take Out Bags.  Man I miss going to a restaurant and having too much, then having leftovers for breakfast.  I'd be laughed out of a restaurant if I ever asked for a 'doggy bag'.
11. American People. Yes, I know, we are nationalistic, we are fake and sometimes way too much but I miss that sometimes.. that whole comfortable way of talking to eachother. I miss not having to decide when to say vous and when it's appropriate to not? C'est compliqué. Man I miss being able to be myself in my language.

Can you tell I was hungry when I wrote this?  Are there things you miss?

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Language Help: Common Things in French

During my mom's visit I realized there were quite a few things I got used to living without, that she hadn't.  Or even moreso things I realized I figured out but had no idea what the word was when I first moved to France.  Sorry for the lack of proper accents on my French words in this post, I'm using one of my American computers and searching for the accents exhausts me.

I'd like to take a post to revisit some of those typical things and give the French equivalent, once again:

Around the House

Bleach - Eau de Javel
fabric softener - appsouplissant
detergent - lessive lave-linge
sensitive skin - peau sensible
dishwasher detergent - lessive pour lave-vaisselle
hand soap - savon
stain remover - detachant
stain - tache
a rag - un chiffon
dish towel (in EVERY French home) - un torchon
a sponge - une eponge

In the Kitchen  

(I'll only do the most basic, I recommend this site for more information)

wine opener - tire bouchon
bottle of wine - une bouteille du vin
wine glass - un verre du vin
ice cubes - des glacons
cookbook - un livre de cuisine
recipe - une recette
cold drink - une boisson fraiche
water - de l'eau

Spices or Food Stuffs

(Same as above, not too much detail since it is a lot of words, instead try THIS SITE!)

peanut oil - huile de cacahuete
organic - bio
snack - gouter (often they say, "l'heure de gouter" which is a small snack around 4pm)
cut in slices (can order this at the boulangerie) - faire en tranches, ou couper en tranches
bacon - lardon ou poitrine fume/sale


Business Outside of Apartment
the bank - la banque
the apartment managers office - la regie
university - le fac
university cafeteria - CafeT
savings  - epargne
pay check - un bulletin de paie
grocery store - super marche


That's about what I can come up with on the top of my head... but here are some more resources to understand and learn specific French words:

Lyon Eats Food Resource
French Linguistics Word Reference Site

And of course, if ever any questions simply shoot me a mail!

Tomorrow is October 1st, and I still can't believe how quickly September went.  Yikes.  Look forward to more posts coming up, I have got to try and stay on top of it.. but with a Masters program and 18 hours a week of work.. well life's barely life.

Tant pis!

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Advice: Le Master in France

The day after mom left I had no time to be emotional, the sadness from the morning wore off as I returned to worked and drowned myself in telephone calls and student follow ups.  Quick enough that too passed and I found myself zombieing towards the direction of school to go to one of my many many classes for my Master's program in France.  That's right, after a year of intensive French via the CIEF program at Lyon II I enrolled into a specialty International Management Master under the Frenchity-French name of: Master 2 en Internationale Management des Petites et Moyens Entreprises et Entreprises Tailles Intermediares.  Simply put in our 25 people class slang, M2PMETI.

Classes officially started last week, of course I was stressing before they even begun.  I remembered the foreign students in my Business classes- how, in utmost honesty, I dreaded having them on my team because I knew we'd have to explain everything.  During roleplays we'd give them the easy role, minimalist lines and try to support them... I was going to become that foreigner.  A week before the classes were to start I already started to have nightmares, I would show up to class and suddenly all my French would disappear and I couldn't understand a word from the teacher ni the students.

Of course starting off wasn't super easy either, looking back at last week my notes are written in short-hand, scribbled nonsense sentences and sometimes a vocabulary word scratched on the top of the paper with a huge QUESTION MARK.  It was nice having some recognition for what I am doing, I kept mentioning l'importance de changer le stéréotype Américain, that, ce n'est pas juste que dans le domaine des affaires tout le monde faut parler en Anglais.  I pushed the fact that I was the only business student AMERICAN that I knew with such a fluent level and respect for the French culture.

See, most people who come over, come to sort of suck up the culture.  Learn about the literature, the gastronomy, cooking skills, methodology to teach French back in the States- I decided to utilize my strength and experience in Business and learn that aspect.

Plus a Master in France only costs like 250€ payable in 3 installements of 83€!  Calculating my Master costs in the US made my head spin- and I couldn't stand the fact I would have to rack up more debt to get an education.. so I bit the bullet and found a program that fit my goals and applied.

The interview was in July; with a lovely lady who seemed ravie that I had applied to the program.  I was the first American in a long time, I would be a great part of the program.. etc.  Plus I'd get to try and do an INTERNSHIP with a company in Lyon... which is another stress in my mind.....

Now the question, what is it like in a French Masters Program?

Well, hard of course.  There is always the language barrier- which some professors are kind and give lots of synonyms during their lectures so we foreigners understand- but unfortunately it's not always that easy.  I have one professor that talks so fast I only have a moment to digest what he said and get it until he suddenly jets off in a separate direction... I have the innate feeling he has a slight ADD... but it's dommage because he is one cute dude. (But married for those of you looking for the marriage way of staying in France).

I have a mix of classes, Business Plan classes, classes about the Industrial Economy... I think the hardest part about the information is the changing of the words.  In business the French have tried to find equivalent words for everything we already have jargon for in the States- for example a Greenfield Venture has now become ex nihilo.  WTF?

Now, probably wondering how to get all enrolled in a Master program in France?  It's quite easy:

1. Go to the Lyon 2 or Lyon 3 website and search what they offer as formations or masters
2. Pick out what you like and sign up online to deposer un candidature
3. Remember all those pesky documents: releves des notes, lettre de motivation, CV
4. Apply once all documents are ready
5. Wait for a response

If you are nervous about your carte de séjour running out- fret not because when you reapply you don't need proof of school until September.  They understand students are waiting for a response..

And word to the wise:  Don't attempt a Master's Program in France until you watch French news and understand what is going on.  Otherwise opt for an English based program (such as those offered at Lyon 3) or a language based program (such as the CIEF)

bonne chance!

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Culture Shock: The Dreaded Prefecture

It's 5:30 in the morning, I glance at my iPhone clock not registering that I'm supposed to be up in a matter of minutes. I decide to quiet the alarm, just to close my eyes for a few more minutes. Silence. The alarm blasts, 6:15 in the morning. I'm exhausted and there's a pit in my stomach I know I have to head down to the prefecture in 20 or so minutes. Last time I was too late, I arrived only 1 hour early and the line was shocking. I cried because they turned me down at the door, telling me il n'y a plus des tickets pour les étudiants.

This time I was prepared, I packed a book, a sitting towel, if needed some water and pims. I thought about the 2 hour wait as I gulped down my cereal without tasting it- stones in milk really. Sustenance.  I kept thinking about all the times I've had to wait, at airports, in line, hoping it won't be too horrendous.

I decide to avoid the bus. I grab, magically, the only bike available on my street. As if something, somewhere was giving me a karmic break. As I bike I feel the stone grow heavy, doubts creep into my mind: what if there are even more people waiting? What if I'm too late again? What if i'm aggressed while waiting? What if I have to pee?

I park my bike and stride to my destination, there are already 20 or so people lined up, either sitting or pressed against the wall. I pull into the line, spread my blue towel on the dirt ground and take my place.  I look curiously around at the crowd, mostly a mix of Chinese students prolonging their visas and asile or 'asylum' internationals looking to stay under the safety of France.  We are all miserable, exhausted and bored.

Tell me, how is it such an organized country like France can be so underdeveloped in regards to their visa visitors.  No reservations ahead of time, wait in line and fight for a place. Those that come in late somehow get a place in the front, most likely greasing some people who camp out over night. It's truly a gamble- how late can I be until ts too late? One time I was able to get there at 8am and served by 12... It's a variable situation with no alternative. Students, victims of other countries and other such issues are dealt with in one understaffed building in the 3ème arrondissement in Lyon. If the tickets run out you won't be served that day no matter how long you wait.
It's already 28 degrees, I'm thankful they open at 9am. I literally feel the humanity peeling off as I tense up and glare at those passing in front of me.

Finally 9am rolls around, I stand, stretching the stifness out of my legs.  The door is having issues, we are blocked outside for antoher 20 minutes.


Inside, I don't get served until 11:00 am.  Bri brings me a chilled mocha, I drink at it dazed, exhausted.  By the time I leave it has been 4.5 hours since I arrived in the line.


It was one of the worst experiences. Ever.

Marché des Animaux: Place Carnot

Oh my goodness, by surfing about the net I came across some information that absolutely tickles my fancy- a live animal market in the center of the city!!

Place Carnot hosts a weekly market specialized in domestic pets every Sunday from 8h to 12h.  This is going to have to be a place I must visit.  Marchés in France are often streeets lined with cars or table tops and covered in product, I can only imagine a city block filled with cute kittens (why must you be allergic Bri, why!?) and puppies.  A Google Search of marché des chiens turned up photos of cooked up dogs in public markets in the East- somehow not exactly what I was looking for.

I just had no idea that there was a special marché dedicated to the cute baby animals that I haven't seen in ages!  I don't even know where to find a Pet Store in Lyon!

A search on the Bibliothèque de Lyon however turned up some photos from the turn of the century, where the marché was still active!

*note: there are also several more old photos of interest on this site. If you ever have a minute to scan through.



I've thought about getting a bunny, but I actually like rabbit meat so I think it's be strange to keep an animal I tend to eat.  Hamsters and rats are overdone, I've had like 5 in my life, plus Bri thinks keeping small rodent type animals is just plain wrong.

I guess it's just gonna have to wait a few years until we have a big enough house for a dog!

All the same.  Place Carnot, Sundays from 8am to 12pm?  I am so there.

Keep posted for one final post before I head off for vacation- then I'll be trying to post while in Spain... although that tends to be a feat in it's own.  Tapas, sangria, cava... ohh yeah.

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Stretched Out Jeans

I miss having a clothing dryer, I, like most expatriates, have had to adapt to the lifestyle in France.  Part of this lifestyle is washing your clothes at weird celsius temperatures, spending hours trying to get socks to hang on the drying thingy and yes, that horrible stretched out jean syndrome.

There is nothing like slipping into a warm pair of jeans, fresh from the dryer and feeling the snugness of the jeans around your bum.  It's been about one year since I've had that sensation and it's equally been one year that I've even touched a clothing dryer.

Most days I don't think about the things that I miss, such as Taco Bell (which I totally dreamt last night that Taco Bell came to France and I was ecstatic!) or even the simpler things like microwave buttered popcorn or cheap gas.

Truly, though, I miss those jeans.  No matter what I do my jeans in France tend to sag on my bottom and have a hugh gap where it lays on my tummy.  It feels great in a way because there is no wild struggle around the room to slip into my skinny jeans, but sometimes I just miss that feeling.

I started thinking about other things I miss... and I believe that the next post shall be a compiled home sick list.

France is right in a way, dryers are bad for the environment- just like taking showers and leaving the water on... oh I didn't tell you?  In France people take showers like this:  Turn water on, rinse, turn water off, soap up, turn water on, rinse.  Logical right?  Somehow I don't think anyone in the states does this, because I sure was shocked.  So no dryers, no skin tight warm jeans and no 20 minute cascading showers.

Sigh.

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Time in Lyon

There exists a strange phenomenon in the Lyon side of France in regards to time.  A meeting that is supposed to start at 2pm starts around 2:30pm and that meeting that should be one hour goes for about two hours.

The strange occurence spreads into the restaurants or meal times between the family.  That meal that usually lasts about one hour in the states grows, easily, into a 3 hour drinking and eating frenzy in which, at the end, you forget your name, you feel like you are about to explode or you do something stupid and drink that digestif that carries out for a whole nother hour.

The idea of being en retard is just simply a way of life, usually when I plan to meet someone and I say a time, I imagine myself adding 15 minutes to my *always on time* self in order to arrive at the same time.  Living with a true Lyonnais I am more than aware that it is more than an anomaly, it's simply a way of being.

The most annoying to my American ideals is when it comes time to choose a restaurant to eat at.  We wander around the street, talking, saying "Maybe here?  Here?".  By the time we do eat I am starving, my stomach hurts, my legs hurt and I chug down my aperitif to try and get some sustenance in my system.

So, in Lyon, always prepare for the time.

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For the Ladies: The Gyneco

I finally did it, that most uncomfortable and dreadful thing that only a slew of message boards frightened me into turning around and never looking back.

About 4 months ago I decided, after pressure from my French mother, to book an appointment with a Gyneco in France.  A quick search online on exasperated the fear I had.  Some of my favorite lines that I read from reviews and message boards,

Elle a même pas lavé ses mains ou changé le drap sur le lit.  Ce n'était pas propre... quel horreur! = She didn't even wash her hands or changed the sheet on the table.  It was not clearn... what a horror!

J'avais saignement pendant trois jours de ma visite. = I was bleeding for 3 days after my visit.

And the scariest most horrific one was from a fellow blogger:

You undress in front of your doctor, you walk around the room naked while you’re doctor is there, you climb up on the table naked and there are no gowns or towels to cover anything, and you get dressed again with your doctor watching. - American in France

Naked?  Just walking around feeling the breeze on my bits?  I didn't think I could handle it so I put the task at my French mother to find me a good one.  After about a week she txted me:

J'ai demandé aux mes collègues, elles m'ont donné le nom "Lavagna"

Like lasagna, I could handle that.

I called in the beginning of May, and unfortunately, Mme Lavagna was booked until July.  I had a date set, July 21, which was yesterday.

Now I totally forgot about the visit, placed it a million miles away in the back of my mind so I wouldn't have to recall the millions of posts about bleeding for days, nakedness and awkward dirty clinics.  Except one can only forget for so long until it's the day off and you're on the bus hypervenilating and using google translate to figure out key phrases so you don't look like an idiot.

Sexuellement active
Maladies transmettre sexuellement
Les pilules

What was I doing?  Turn this bus around!

Of course, I didn't jump out the window, instead I actually went.  Hidden on the street was 168, I buzzed myself in and wandered upstairs.  A beep of the button and the receptionist was there, cheery and taking my information.  How tall am I? Is this my first time? Etc.

10 minutes of me fidgeting around in my seat later an older woman in jeans and a nice long sleeve shirt popped out and shook my hand.  Mme Lavagna, herself.  I was put off by her fashion, high heels and the fact she has a manicure.. but hey gynecos can look good too.

Yes, I had to get stark naked.  No it was not in front of her, she had a nice covered area where I could undress, but I was still de-clothed and strewn on with a light in my nether regions.  It was still unnerving that I was in what felt like someone's apartment, but she did have the equipment and a private room that felt like a doctor's office at home.

Is it ever a joy ride going to the gyneco? No.  But for 50 bucks in France I expected royal treatment, it wasn't the worse of stories, it was ok.  I felt like she was sort of rushing me out of the clinic and kind of procedurally doing things.  Screw small talk, get undressed, get on the table, 10 minutes and some pain later, get dressed, pay.

She did; however, ensure my prescription for birth control was covered by insurance and that the visit was also covered.

15 minutes later I was on the street.

So now I have to find a dentist.

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Story Time: Trip to the Salon

It took me one year and two months to build up the courage to go to a hair salon in France.  I had envisioned total destruction to my hair, as I had read a multitude of angry bloggers discussing their Bad Hair Experiences.  I was almost ready in May when I took a stroll with a good friend of mine from Sweden.  Her hair was tied up, and she mentioned she had recently got it cut.  When she took it down it was horrific.  The layers were mismatched, areas in the back were chunky and short... I put off the cutting until I saw a recent photo of myself and my blah hair:

I had went to a barbeque of a good friend, and after the photos came out I was a bit shocked.  My hair had become shaggy, worse the ends were torn up and abimés. It was officially time to get a hair cut.












The next logical step was to find a salon.  I knew I couldn't rely on them speaking English so I reviewed a blog post I had written a few months prior.  It discussed the typical words we use in the salon.  Alongside this I printed up some color photos to show what I wanted and prepared over a week for the cut.

I ended up calling a salon in the 6ème called, Lounge Cut.  Recommended by the Petit Paumé I was fully aware of the positive reviews of this place.  I called to take a reservation, and got in less than a week.

I was even more excited when I got there, and saw it was a nice little salon, with only 3 chairs for cutting, no giant hair factory.

I showed my photos and hashed through my French.  When I mentioned it had been over a year from my last cut; the coiffeuse was shocked.  She took about 3 inches of hair and said, "On doit les couper, si tu voudrais, car ils sont tellement abimés" I understood that one.  We should cut this much because I failed to respect my hair and I had split ends up the HIZZY.







I agreed.

The best part of Lounge Cut, is they cut it dry, like in many salons in the states.  She washed after, massaged my head, and then spent another 40 minutes styling.  I think next time I'll skip the 'brushing', but it did make my hair feel super soft.  She used scissors, not razors, unlike many French stylists.






Lei Wei, my stylist, also told me that there are a lot of English clients, and that Mark, another stylist can speak English.  So. Any one looking to get their hair cut by an English speaker, check out Lounge Cut and see Mark.  Lei Wei can also speak English, but she is better at understanding.


I felt great.  I promised to come back every 3 months, or 6 months maxi as she told me.

And the results, of my first cut in France?

I am happy.  It's definitely much more comfy for summer, I was smothering in my hair.

Not So Appropriate French Words

For me it is easy to pick up languages, I listen on the television, watch some French series.  I watch the news every morning on BFM television to see what actualities are up.  I often spend 2 weekends during the month at Brian's parent's house where I absorb and practice.

I've officially hit the level of French where no one teases me for huge errors nor accent mistakes- but little ways I pronounce my words they find cute.  I find it absolutely ridicule that they like my American accent.  I try my best to focus and really pronounce my words sans accent because I think the American accent sounds TERRIBLE.

I didn't, however, realize that the words we use around friends is probably not so appropriate around family or family friends.  I learned this Saturday night while enjoying an invitation to an old family friend.  I was surrounded by J and R, Bri's parents, and we wdere deep in discussion.  I spilled a bit of wine on myself and exclaimed, "PUTAIN!" The conversation stopped short, and about 6 pairs of beady French eyes stared at me.

J softly touched my arms and said, "Tu sais, ce n'est pas un mot très gentille...".  I felt aghast, wanted to run and hide in a closet.  In the States I rarely cursed around people, and it was never like I was a Sailor mouth or anything.  I looked down at my hands and looked back up to meet the beady eyes, "Qu'est-ce que c'est un meilleur moyen de le dire?" Then I got my next French lesson.  Appropriate curse words.

I guess I was always under the assumption the French were more liberal with curse words, I'd heard 10 year olds cursing in the street, parents cursing alongside them.  I would find out these people were in fact not being appropriate. Sex is freely portrayed around here, and the curse words that do pop on the screen are unblipped.  Also, when speaking a second language, these words have less meaning and so if it becomes a habit, it's one that is difficult to break.

Now my struggle and my retraining:

Putain will now be MINCE!
Salop will now be salaud.
Je vais pisser will now be je vais pipi ou je vais aller au toilette
Merde will now be mince.
La bite will not be said any more.

It's not easy.  I remember the day after I was talking about something and I almost slipped out a putain I covered it by saying instead; Pu----voirs... oui.. pouvoirs. The problem being putain is so much easier to say than mince, mince has a weird back of the throat I noise that I haven't quite mastered.

I guess lesson learned: just because you here the words every where does not mean they are appropriate everywhere.

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Poor Little Old Lady..

I remember in the states, specifically in Oregon, any time a little old lady passed, there would be an inkling to help.  Cross the street.  Get than can off of the top shelf.  Move off the seat of the bus so she doesn't go flying around.

France is a bit of a different world.  We already know that the driver's are insane and you can barely step off of a street corner without fear of being craser but worse is the behavior towards the elderly.

My story starts in a grocery store.  I was at the caisse popping my things onto the belt to get scanned, preparing my bags to pop the groceries in, because the dude moves so fast I never have enough time to shove it all away until he cries, the price.

The little old lady in front of me was trying desperately to keep up with the cashier, but was failing miserably.  For each item she was able to shakily put away, the cashier would shove over another four.  I finally realized that no one would help her, not even the cashier.  I wandered over, "Voudriez-vous d'aide madame?" I smiled.  The PLOL (poor little old lady) smiled a missing tooth smile and proclamed, "c'est TROP gentille madamoiselle", so off I went getting it all bagged and evenly weighed out.  At the end of paying she looked over at me and said, "Il n'y a beaucoup des gens comme vous, madamoiselle." (There aren't a lot of people like you) I nodded and responded, "Je ne suis pas Française, je suis américaine." (I'm not French, I'm American).  She smiled at me, and shuffled away.

The second story is on the bus.  I got onto the bus one day and it started to move, I noticed a little old lady coming on that could barely walk and had an oxygen machine.  As she shuffled down the aisles she was obviously having a difficult time not falling on her head, so I moved from my spot and held her still until she got into her seat.  Everyone just sat and looked away, as if she didn't exist!!!

So I was confused.  I finally asked around to friends what the deal WAS.  They explained to me that in general, if an elderly person cannot care for them selves, it's a dog eat dog world.  They need to learn how to survive in the world, because the helping hand is not always there.  Plus they respect the elderly as they don't want to make them feel frail or unable.

I still will always give my seat up, and help the old lady get the can.  I can adapt to cultures, but for this I will keep my personality.

-a+

Instant Coffee Sucks

Brian's parents drink the stuff every morning before work- but I don't know how much sugar or milk they use to mask the flavor.

It tastes like old sock juice.

I'm down to my last bag of Long Bottom coffee my mom sent me back in December and I needed an afternoon pick-me-up.  All the friend people I know have this stuff in their cabinet- and I had a jar from like a year and a half ago.





I heated up water.

Me n Sock Juice

Tossed in 1 1/2 tsp of granulated instant coffee.

Stir.

Drink.

BLEGH.

Repeat until contents are empty.






Living in France has some minor faults- the espresso is great, but it's not such a culture of big cups of coffee.  I am definitely missing the big fluffy couches and the ginormous lattés for only like 2 bucks.  Portland = stumptown, Lyon = sockjuice town.

More tomorrow.

Found: 2 Euro Store

Anyone from the States knows about the Dollar Tree.. that place you go when you need like 50 straws for some fund raising event.  You are going to someone's birthday and don't want to buy a super expensive Hallmark card.  You need to clean your house but Mr. Clean is simply out of the budget... well I recently discovered the European.. or more the "French" equivalent to the Dollar Tree... the 2 Euro Shop.

Located on 17 rue Victor Hugo, in Paris, down the stretch of over-priced shopping paradise.. situated between the Brioche Doré and SFR store, lies the little shop called, "C 2 Euros"... or in translated real french, c'est deux euros.  It's a store that is easily missed, we keep walking or talking and one second passes.  It's a blink and walk store, if you blink while you are walking by, well you missed your chance.


Now there are some true differences between this little jewel mine and the Dollar Tree, first off:  not everything is off brand.  That's right, there are some name-brand items in this shop.  They are sold often because they weren't sold in another store or the demand wasn't high enough.





For example, the treasures I managed to buy yesterday for only 6 euros:
-Oil bottle (for pouring my oil in style)
-Little tray for my coffee in the morning
-Pantene Pro-V Conditioner (which I could NOT find in the normal super marché!)


They also have a selection of cookware, serving ware (high quality) and little amuse-bouches serving items.  There are Lyon themed items, so great for those of us who want to bring a gift home.. but are low on cash.  And as a note:  everything is 2 euros... even if the price marked says '4' or '5.95' it's just an old listed price from the old magasin.


As a warning, it is a very small little shop.. it takes some shoving and shuffling to get around and buy things- but it is definitely worth it for poor students like myself to look like we are living fancy!

Happy cheap shopping!

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