Just Another American in Paris

It's been exactly 1 year, five months, six hours, thirty-two minutes and two seconds since I stepped off the train in June of 2010 to start my new life in Lyon.

Now it will be 1 month and 2 weeks until I hop on a different train and start a new life in Paris.  I never thought I would leave Lyon, nonetheless live in Paris, but when opportunity knocks on your door you answer.

About 4 weeks ago or so, Bri decided to throw in his bid to become the assistant to a senator in Paris.  We knew it was a long shot, the chances that he would get it is slim (no experience as an assistant, a young male, in a second Masters, working at the law library).  The interview was last week, I know because it was me rolling out of bed at 6am to make him some coffee to be able to trudge to the train and get to the senate.

I also know it was a week because it was a week of Bri saying, "I'm not gonna get it, I'm no good, I'll never be in the senate, it's the end.".  The complaints only got stronger on Tuesday when he was supposed to have a call, and nada, Wednesday, same.  But, today, one week and 3 days from the interview, Bri received a phone call from the Senator herself offering the position.

I'm very focused on time now more than ever, every minute that passes is going to be a minute that leads to the end of my stay in Lyon.  I know most would drool for the chance to live in Paris, but I have grown to love Lyon as a second home and I can only feel more waves of culture shock as we prepare to head 5 hours north into the most popular tourist spot in the world.

It's been ten minutes I've been writing, and I can only ask myself banal questions:
How the hell are we going to get my brand new closet and oven to Paris?
Where are we going to live?
How long will it take to find an apartment?
Where will I find a new butcher who knows my order and my name?


I feel like Julia Child when Paul was moved around Europe, thinking to myself well there are still trains! 


I'm just going to be another American in Paris.

Oh well at least it will make good blogging fodder, what's more interesting than hauling a 65m2 apartment into a closet in Paris?

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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. 

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.

Soirée Deguisement

I entered into the room and 15 sets of French eyes stared at me expectedly, I nodded, waved, and then noted that my friend was bustling around already giving the ‘bises’ and saying the appropriate ‘bonsoir’.  It was the first true party that I was invited to by my promotion or the people that are in your school program, they decided to do a sort of soirée déguisement or costume party.  Of course when I was packing my 3 luggages in 2010 I didn’t exactly think to pack up my costumes, none of my fairy dresses, wings or even cat costumes.  So for this soirée I was at a loss for a costume.  Lucky me, on one of my discoveries around Lyon that I came across a little magasin de déguisement owned by a typical round chubby Frenchman.  Costumes ranged between 10-15€ and I was able to pick up some cheap cat ears and a tail for only 11€.

We had worked our butts off all day, hashing through an etudes de cas which is simply a case study- French style.  Meaning: all in French, the whole head ache of French teams (shouting out ideas, hashing it out until you need to crawl to bed) and little to no direction.  From 8am to 5pm we worked, with little breaks and just a quick sandwich to keep it going.

Needless to say, we wanted to drink in massive quantities.  In order to try to get to the party and not feel totally left out since I am that silly étrangère, I got together with another girl in my class (a devil that night) and we métro’d it up to the host’s apartment.

Thus I found myself in a room of 15 French people, one from Israel, and myself.  I served myself a nice warmed up glass of Rum punch and began the drinking.  If I try to remember the conversations I had, well, I simply can’t.  There was some discussions regarding ‘French Fillers’, which will have to be on its own in a blog… it was hilarious.  Otherwise, typical questions such as comment est-ce que tu as appris de parler aussi bien Français que ça? or est-ce que c’est vrai que les filles sont « easy » aux USA ? Well.

The night got rolling, and seemed to pass by in a blur.  A couple of the class-mates decided to do a pretty funny mock-up of two “typical Americans” that sort of went like this:

Girl: Yesssss, yesssss, I uhm amahricannn, I eet zes burgurs uhn hei luhk beer!

Guy: Yoo luhk beer? Me hei lahk yoo shoe!

Girl: yess yess, zhis moosic ehs very nuhce!

Guy: I am agree!

I almost blew my warm rum cocktail out of my nose.

Another dude came up, typically a French person and popped in the most ghetto rap I’d ever heard.  I started, bouche bée and said, “What you’re like a gangster from the Bronx or what?”

5 coupettes of warm rum and tequila drinks later I was happily claquée and my French friend mentioned it was time to go.  I looked at the clock and we had at least 20 minutes, I said as much and she said, “Yes, but we have to make the rounds,” The rounds?

I watched as she began to circle around and make the bise with everyone, saying, bonne soirée (different than bon soir) and simply making some goodbye small talk.  Well, bother, so much for escaping with a quick wave and a bye-bye.  I began making me rounds, and although doing the bises is something I’ve done a millions times since I’ve lived here, this felt odd.

Bise.

Oui je dois partir, tu sais, pour le metro.

Bonne soirée.

Repeat about 50,000 times.

The best part was that my copine was much more bourrée than me and she was telling me all kinds of conneries.  We separated ways in the metro and I got on the last train with all the other alcoholic teenagers, etrangères, and clochards, and stared at a poster while I listened to the girl next to me, British, shouting out “SHOTS, SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!!” over and over and over.

All in all, a good night!

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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Day in the Life of a Masters Student in France

Well, it's a give-in that a Master's degree is difficult... I never assumed stepping into a year intensive course would be a piece of cake or walk in the flower garden. Of course I was utterly unprepared for the sheer force that has presented itself to me in the form of a Master's degree in France. The amount of classes, reading, theoretical studying, application theories, group or team projects.

I simply thought I'd bundle up the feeling in the Day in the Life post just so it's clear how hard it is.

I'll take a Monday as an example, which tends to be the day I have a crise and ask myself: why, why, WHY!!!


7:00am - alarm blares. I don't want to get up, bed is warm, but need to make coffee if ever going to make it through the day. I hit the snooze and jump up at 8am stressed already. As my coffee brews I surf for about 5 minutes and then jump into some team work and studying. Around 9am I decide I can't go to school in my pajamas, so I shuffle through clothes I managed to wash over the weekend and splash some cold water on my pufft eyes. I figure just mascara is okay today.

9:40am - Bri clings to me and tries to make me late, I think it is some form of French conspiracy, he is always late therefore I should be to. I peel him off, quick peck goodbye and shoot out the door to barely make it to class by..

10:00am - Class starts. I am feeling terribly rusty in my French and the teach is rapid fire spitting out theories left and right, I note as fast as my hand will allow as this is the teach that refuses computers. In her own words, "je suis vielle France, pas des ordinateurs." Lovely. I scratch out words, highlight and in the end it looks like a 5 year old art project with a scattering of question marks here and there.

11:30am - break. 60% of the class heads outside to smoke. I eyeball the cigarettes warily and now understand why stressed people start.

12:00pm - More rapid fire French. Explication of some project we are doing with the region that has no plan and no direction, but for us to figure it out.

1:00pm - Brian brings me lunch, I eat for 15 minutes and then cry and whine for 45 minutes. Some key words: I'll never pass.

2:00pm - comes too quickly. Today is a work day so I get my first taste of a reunion in France. We have an issue to work through and we crash our brains trying to hash it out. My French is still warming up so it feels like the most I offer is mmhmm or oui bonne idee. The student teacher rolls over and critics us as well as adding a dash of criticism over my writing abilities in French. I feel like switching to English and being all like- "oh bitch, no you didn't!". All our work after 3 hours is apparently crap so we all feel defeated, my brain decides not to cooperate and I say screw it and head to work..

5:30pm - work starts. Nothing eventful except I mention dropping my resignation letter and I get an email saying I owe 200 bucks for an accounting error on an insurance policy that was required that I never even used. I now regret not going to the dentist or something.

6:00pm - realize I have about 4 people to present to instead of the usual 3. My French now decides to cooperate but I think it's just simple exhaustion.  As I get on a roll, I realize about halfway through my presentation how exhausted I actually am.  As all 4 students listen and nod, I feel sort of on auto drive... thankfully I have had experiences in theater so it's sort of like acting... I guess..

7:20pm - finally done with presentation.  Mouth is starting to hurt from the focus on trying to pull off a less American accent.  I plop in front of my work screen and brain shuts off.  Go through the motions until...

8:00pm - why isn't the student done with their lab work yet?? I go and tap on their shoulder.

8:20pm - student finally wanders out, I grab my bags and drag myself home.

8:40pm - come home, Bri clings to me as I try to shuffle around the kitchen and pull some fragments of a meal together.

9:00pm - something is plated.  I eat, without really tasting it.

10:00pm - drag myself to bed, try to read a little bit for my class, type up some notes and then I am out.

And.  That is my life at the moment.

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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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