Why Learning French is like Loving a Beautiful Woman

One of my teachers says that learning the French language is like loving a beautiful woman: it is difficult but worth the effort.  According to him, beautiful things are never easy. At least that is what I think that he said, but who knows … he was speaking French.

Joan and I have been taking French submersion immersion classes while we are in Paris.  It is humbling.  Joan is doing much better than I. After 4 weeks of classes, I hoped that I would magically become fluent.  More realistically, I hoped that I would be able to engage in basic communication with the French in their native tongue.  That hasn’t happened.  Mostly, I now have a better understanding about how little I understand about the French language.

I last tried to learn French in 1970.  For two years I sat in the back row of French class with Madame ________ [name withheld to protect the innocent]. I recall very little of French class because it seems to be true that bad memories are repressed. I do recall that on my last day in French class. Madame ______ promised to give me a passing grade if I promised not to sign up for French the next year. She also made me promise to never disgrace the French language again by trying to speak French, and in the event that I ever tried to speak French again, to never tell anybody that she was my teacher.  After 45 years, I decided that notwithstanding my promises I would try to learn French again.  (I guess this means that since I breached our agreement Madame ____ can now retroactively change my grade to the failing grade I deserved.)

I know that I have learned a lot in my four weeks of immersion French classes (and I have certainly enjoyed getting to know the others in the classes), but I am not sure that all of the effort (and expense) has substantially improved my ability to converse with people on the street.  My accent is so bad that most of the time the French cannot understand what I am trying to say even when my grammar and vocabulary are correct (which is rare). I seem to do best when I try to speak like Inspector Clouseau in one of the Pink Panther movies, With enough forethought and by imitating Inspector Clouseau, I can sometimes communicate basic information, but things quickly go off the tracks when the French respond.  

My ability to comprehend the normal spoken word is so bad that on the rare occasion when I make myself understood, I can rarely understand the response in French.  It is worse when the French initiate the conversation because I usually have no clue about the subject of the words hitting me.  It is like being hit by a tidal wave. It washes over me and then carries me out to sea drowning in sea of French words.

I think that my French immersion teachers find my butchery of the French language to be just as painful as it was for my French teacher 45 years ago. Thus, they keep moving me from teacher to teacher. After going through all four different teachers at the "complete beginner" level during the first week, I can only assume that no teacher in the complete beginner level would take me again, so they moved me up a level.  After one day, I was sent back to the complete beginner class.

Sometimes I have trouble with my homework

Although it might sound like I am not really trying, I am trying hard. Really. I am even doing my homework (except for last night when I had no clue what I was supposed to be doing).  I am also trying to use my French outside of class (e.g., by arguing with museum clerks in French). 

I had hoped that the damage to the left side of my brain (in my 2004 car wreck) and the resulting use of the right side of my brain for more things might make it easier to learn French today than it was 45 years ago, but that has not been the case so far. My theory was that my previous attempt at French had been doomed because I was a left brain type of person and I wanted French to be logical.  

As best as I can tell, French is not logical.  For example, there seems to be no rhyme or reason about what nouns are feminine or masculine.  Don’t even get me started on the variety of words used to refer to time, which vary depending on the gender of the object, whether you are talking about past, present of future, and (naturally) whether the word starts with a vowel or an “h”.   Of course, the most common verbs are irregular, and let me assure you that the irregular verbs live up to their name.  Even regular verbs seem to become irregular when you change tenses.

Counting in French proceeds in a typically French fashion.  Things are OK until you get to seventy. Rather than following the pattern for 30, 40, 50 and 60, 70 has a unique system.  70 is“soixante-dix,” which translates to 60 plus 10, Seventy-one, of course, is soixante-deuze (60+11) and definitely not soixante-dix-et-un (60+10+1).  At eighty, you might expect either soixante-vingt (60+20) or perhaps huitante (since 40 is quarante and 50 is cinqante), but you would be wrong.  You must know multiplication to get to 80, which is quatre-vingts (four twenties).  At 90, you must know both multiplication and addition because 90 is quatre-vingts-dix (four twenties plus ten).

Immersion French Class

French must be a beautiful language.  It is certainly difficult and it is rarely logical.

It turns out that French is still difficult even when you rely on the right side of your brain.  My latest pseudo-scientific theory to explain my ineptitude is that whatever neural pathways that are used for learning language were pruned out of my brain long ago.  Believe it or not, there is some scientific basis for this theory.

The good news is that unlike when I was trying to learn French as an adolescent, and I was embarrassed to try to say anything for fear of being laughed at, as adult, I really don’t care if I embarrass myself.  Therefore, I am not hesitant to try to speak French and I join the French in laughing at what I am saying.  It should also help that I will be submerged immersed in French for the next year. Thus, I will keep plugging away at the language until the people of France force me to stop butchering their beautiful language.

In the meantime, we continue to enjoy the sites, sounds and food of Paris. I also continue to try to convince Bronwyn to let me buy or rent a canal boat so that we see Europe by water.

Street Performers on Montemarte

A very nice refurbished canal boat

Why I was asked to leave le Musée de l'Armée (roughly translated "Museum of the Funny Hats")

[WARNING - I was upset with my treatment by French museum authorities when I wrote this blog so you will have to excuse my sarcasm.  We apologize to our French friends.]

Perhaps it was inevitable that I would get in trouble in Paris, but I really didn't expect to get kicked out of the first museum that I visited on my own (without Bronwyn). Generally, I have tried to be extremely sensitive to French customs and I have tried hard to disprove the French stereotypes about loud and rude Americans. In fact, just last night Bronwyn was telling me that I was going overboard in my effort to be respectful and deferential to the French.

Today I failed.  This morning I visited the Musée de l'Armée ... until I got asked to leave.

The Musée de l'Armée (the Army Historical Museum) is gigantic museum in a beautiful 18th century military hospital.  It presents a very French spin on world military history. It is also a shrine to Napoleon. The museum is filled with lots of display cases with brightly colored uniforms and funny hats. Because of my fascination with funny hats (see blog on the parade of funny hats, the museum was a "must see" for me.

Napoleon with a new hat

A large portion of the museum is devoted to Napoleon, his various uniforms and hats, as well as his colossal tomb. There is also a section of the museum that covers World War I through the end of World War II.  If there is a portion of the museum that covers French military victories after World War II, I didn't find it, ... But of course, my visit was cut short when I was asked to leave.

Not surprisingly, the focus of the museum is French military victories, and very little time is spent on other aspects of French military history. For example, the last part of Napoleon's campaigns and the first parts of WWI and WWII are dismissed by saying "there were some setbacks."

In truth, the museum is excellent and I don't begrudge the French for focusing on French military victories, or even the role of the French in winning WWII.  However, the French spin on world history is an interesting contrast to what I learned in school.  It makes you realize that what we are taught is not necessarily true and that sometimes nations have very different recollections of history.

Rochambeau (center with sash) and Washington (tall guy on right)

This is not the first place in France where I have encountered a very different spin on history. Yesterday we visited Versailles where the audio guide describes the role of France in the American Revolution and emphasized that General Rochambeau was the overall commander that defeated the British. Certainly, the intervention of France played a key role in the American Revolution, but I was surprised to learn and that Rochambeau was the architect of the victory at Yorktown and that Washington merely assisted him.  This is very different spin than the version of history taught in America. Even the French paintings of the victory at Yorktown show Rochambeau in the center with Washington and Lafayette in subservient positions.  I am not exactly sure which version of history is correct, but it is interesting.

Unfortunately, my visit to the Musée de l'Armée was cut short when I was asked to leave. I was asked to leave because  I wanted a refund when the audio player that I had rented for six Euros repeatedly failed to work.  Unfortunately, the audio player rented to me displayed a message that it had less than 10% of its battery life remaining shortly after I began my way through the museum.   I tried to return to the desk where I rented the audio player, but the nice guard told me (in French) that I could not exit through the entrance and that I would need to go through the museum and out the exit (a zig zag path that required me to go through three floors of exhibits).  He described the up and down path that I needed to take with elaborate gestures so I am pretty sure that I understood him correctly.

I decided that I might as well see how long the remaining 10% of the battery would last before trying to return the audio player.  Eventually the audio player died, and I quickly passed through the rest of the exhibits without the benefit of an audio guide in English.  When I got back to the desk where I rented the audio player I was told that I could not have a new audio player because the intervening 30 minutes that it took me to make my way back to the audio desk had apparently allowed the battery to revive enough so that the player could be restarted.  I protested that the player was likely to die again but my advocacy and language skills were inadequate to convince the clerk to give me a new audio player.  Thus, I returned to another section of the museum where the player lasted for about two minutes before completely dying.

When I returned to the audio player rental desk again there was a different clerk and I tried to explain the problems that I had experienced with the audio player. She seemed sure that it was an error on my part, and (using the condescending tone that the French reserve for stupid Americans) she gave me a lengthy lecture on how to operate the device. I asked her to demonstrate.  When she was unable to restart the player, she became much nicer.

Eventually, I was informed that the player had died because I had stayed at the museum too long (less than two hours since I entered the massive museum). I am not clear if she meant that the battery failed because it was not intended to last for a full tour through the museum or whether I had simply overstayed my welcome by complaining about the audio player.

Since the scornful tone no longer seemed appropriate or effective the clerk switched to a tone of innocent powerlessness.  She sweetly explained that now that she understood the problem she would love to help me but that she was powerless to help me.  I asked whether there was a supervisor who might be able to help.  

"Non."  

I asked if there was anybody in the massive museum on their busiest day of the week that might have more authority.  

"Non."   

At this point, the clerk switched defenses again.  Her ability to speak English evaporated and she hit me with a barrage of French.  I had no clue what she was saying. I tried to respond in French, or at least my version of French (Frenglish), but she expressed innocent puzzlement.

After retiring to a corner and consulting my online French dictionary I made a third attempt to explain why I deserved a refund and or at least an audience with a supervisor.  This quickly degenerated into sentences of three words or less that might or might not have been French.  (At this point I was playing to the large crowd that had accumulated around me.)

"Ces audioguide est mort.  Le batterie est mort. C'est défective. C'est merde (crap)."

[Polite laughter from the crowd.]

"C'est incrédule. C'es vol."  [I intended to say this is robbery, but I might have said something else.  In any event, the crowd thought my French monologue was very funy.]

"Je voudrais mon 6 Euros, si vous plait."  (I would like my 6 Euros back, please.)

I am not sure if the crowd was laughing at me or with me, but they were definitely laughing. The laughter was giving me time to dredge up another French word from my brain and fire off a new salvo.

The guards started conferring and they seemed to be calling on their radios for instructions or perhaps reinforcements. The chatter on the guards' radios was beginning to distract the audience, but I still got a few laughs from the crowd and a lot of polite smiles from the clerk.  Eventually, I used up my my entire arsenal of French words. I think that the clerk felt sorry for me so she gave me a business card of the person that I think she said might have been her supervisor. She told me to call the name on the card on Monday.

I decided to retreat to a corner to look up a few more words to restock my arsenal for my next attack. However, suddenly it was no longer a war of words.  I don't know if it was a coincidence, but guys with machine guns now entered the lobby and I was flanked by guards.  My audience dispersed.  One of the guards suggested politely that it might be time for me to leave.  Initially, I protested that it was raining outside and I did not have a raincoat or umbrella, but since the museum guards had backup with guns, I decided to do as they suggested. Score another victory for the French.  Much like the Germans after WWI, I plotted my revenge as I walked home in the rain.

Oh yea.  I also watched the finish of the Tour de France this afternoon.  It was pretty much a parade, but still fun to watch.  You've got to love Paris.

The Tour de France

Rejoining the 21st Century

Today I rejoined the 21^st century.  This morning AT&T finally sent me the unlock code for my phone (which they had promised by July 3).  It seems that American bureaucracy is really slower than any French bureaucracy that we have yet to encounter.  This afternoon we inserted a French SIM card in my phone today.  I have been effectively without a cell phone since we left the United States on June 21.

Actually, life without a working cell phone has been great most of the time.  It has prompted me to leave my cell phone at home and enjoy Paris.  When I was in the apartment, I was able use the wifi to get my email and I was able use Viber or Facetime to communicate with people in the United States.  Unfortunately, the internet access from our building seems to grind to a halt in the evenings, but if I got up early I can download messages and if I stay up late I can use the wifi to call family. 

The biggest problem has been when Bronwyn and I are in different places trying to communicate with each other (usually trying to figure out why the other person is not where I thought we were supposed to meet).  I had forgotten how nice it is to be able to call the other person anytime from anywhere.  It will also be nice to access Google Maps when want to find a location in Paris.  The tiny little SIM card in the bottom right part of the picture makes all the difference.  Now I will be able to stumble around the streets of Paris staring at my cell phone rather than looking at the sites or watching the fascinating people like the other zombies.

My next challenge is to figure out all of the instructions and agreements that came with the SIM card. I must confess that I did not exactly understand all of the terms of the cell-phone plan when the representative explained it to me (in French).  It seemed like we were told that it is free for us to text out to the United States but that we get a charge when we receive a text (or call) from the United States.  I am also not clear what the charges are when we try to use the phone in Germany or Belgium.  I guess I should not be surprised that 2.5 weeks of French language class has not equipped me to understand a French cell phone contract.  I can't even understand a cell phone contract when it is in English.

After getting the SIM card, we had a wonderful lunch at a cafe, and wandered around the city, eventually ending up at the Opera.  What a SPECTACULAR building!  It would be great to see a performance in this beautiful building.  They even have a box reserved for the Phantom of the Opera.

  

Musée Jacquemart-André.....an unexpected treat!

I know...I have been a real slacker when it comes to the blog.  Rick has done such a good job, that I am feeling a little inadequate!  But this afternoon, I was inspired to write after visiting the Musée Jacquemart-Andre.
Let me start by saying that every afternoon, we try to take in something cultural around Paris.
We are running out of time, and there is still so much to see.
Today, we decided to go the Musée Jacquemart-Andre.
Neither Rick nor I (nor Joanie) knew anything about this museum, other than what was written in the Rick Steve's guidebook (aka our travel bible).  We wanted something a little smaller than the other museums that we had recently visited....mainly because Joanie was not digging the "museum" idea.  I cannot say I totally blame her.  The Louvre is so big;  I appreciate it for what it is, but I cannot say that it is my favorite.  The Orsay is wonderful, but it is crowded and requires a fair amount of time to truly appreciate it.   So something small that could be covered in under 90 minutes was what we were hoping to find.
All I can say is....WOW!
If you are planning to come to Paris, make sure this museum is on your list.
The museum was the actual home of Edouard André and his wife Nélie Jacquemart.   They had no children, so they could spend their money on art and their furnishings, rather than on college funds.
The home is filled with paintings by Botticelli, Rembrandt, Fragonard....just to name a few.

My favorite part was the double helix staircase that is located in the Winter Garden room.  The man who designed it lost out to Charles Garnier when it came to designing the Paris Opera House.  So this guy was no slouch. It is made of marble, iron,  stone and bronze.  It is breathtakingly beautiful.  

At the top of the staircase is a fresco that the couple purchased from an Italian villa in 1893.

There is so much more to this house, but words do not do it justice.

I asked my minion what she thought of it, and she said that she actually liked it. 
I'll take that as an endorsement!

This was a panoramic shot that Rick took on his iPhone

After the museum, we walked to the beautiful Parc Monceau and had goȗter.  
All in all, a pretty nice way to spend an afternoon.

Bastille Day (aka La Fête nationale or Le quatorze juillet)

La Fête nationale (the National Celebration), which is commonly known in France as "Le quatorze juillet" (the 14th of July) and in the United States as "Bastille Day," is the celebration of the storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1989, at the beginning of the French Revolution.  In Paris, it is celebrated with the oldest military parade in Europe, balls at local firehouses, music, free arts events, and fireworks.

We decided that we had to see the famous military parade (which I suggest renaming to "the Parade of Funny Hats") so we dutifully arrived an hour early to find a good spot at the end of the parade route near the Assemblee Nationale (formerly the Palais Bourbon). At our vantage point, the parade began with all forms of military aircraft flying overhead. After the airplanes, it seemed that every branch of the military, police and fire departments had an opportunity to strut their stuff.

The parade had everything you would expect from a military parade - bands, platoons of singing soldiers, swords, guns with bayonets, tanks, artillery, soldiers on horses, soldiers parachuting out of the sky, generals with chests full of medals, and (of course) lots of funny hats.  Even the firemen had machine guns with bayonets and shiny helmets.

Not to be outdone, the protesters (not pictured here, but you can watch a video at http://www.zie.nl/video/fa4zvgtfhazp) had their own funny hats and songs (their favorite seemed to be "L'Internationale").  At least one protester decided to lie down in front of the parade, but he was quickly carried away by the police.  Although the protesters were relatively ineffective at blocking the parade, the swarms of newsmedia trying to get video of the confrontation, as well as the gawkers and platoons of police watching the protesters, managed to effectively block the parade route, which caused a large part of the parade to be diverted away from us,  Eventually, a line of paddy wagons arrived and parked across the street from the protesters.  That seemed to quiet things down.

Pompiers (firemen) retuning their shiny hats

Unfortunately, after the parade, it seems that everybody except the protesters had to return their swords and funny hats. We didn't have any funny hats to return so we treated ourselves to lunch at a small (5 tables), very French, cafe near our apartment. We had a very relaxed lunch on the sidewalk with great food at a reasonable price.

Tonight we head to the Champs de Mars to watch the fireworks display at the Eiffel Tower.

First Week in Paris

We've been in Paris for 11-1/2 days and every time that I think that we are starting to figure things out, I realize that we have not yet begun to scratch the surface of understanding life in Paris. We still get lost occasionally, but we are learning to do the basics such as buying groceries, renting bikes, banking, getting around on the Metro, and ordering food in a restaurant.  Our biggest blunder so far was to purchase a rotisserie chicken at the local organic food market.  It ended up costing around 40 euro.  I think that I need to learn to understand how to understand the answer when I ask "how much is that?"

Grande Epicerie

Of course, we've also been visiting a couple of tourist sites every day including Notre Dame Cathedral, the Picasso Museum, Sacré Coeur, the Eiffel Tower, the Monet Museum, and the Bastille (or at least the remains of the Bastille), as well as lots of chocolateries, patisseries, and gelatories. Despite all of the walking, I don't think I am likely to loose any weight in Paris.

For the past week, Joan and I have also been taking a French immersion class.  My class has 8 students representing a wide range of nationalities (Venezuala, Mexico, Indonesia, Phillipines, Canada, South Africa and the U.S.), ages (18-64), and backgrounds.  When we signed up for the class we given a description of each level of instruction and asked to choose the appropriate level of instruction. At the bottom level of instruction there was a choice between "beginner" and "complete beginner" According to the materials, I should categorize myself as a complete beginner if:

                    - I can spot if someone is speaking French even if I don’t understand the meaning.
                    - I know a few very basic words.
                    - I cannot complete basic needs in French.

Bronwyn using her phone to navigate

Beginners were supposed to be able to ask and answer basic questions, understand directions, order food in a restaurant, and many other things.  Clearly, I was a complete beginner.  Unfortunately, I accidentally did better than expected on the placement exam despite answering six pages of questions with "??????".  As a result, I was thrown into a class that included at least two people who were much more advanced than me.

At first, the class was overwhelming and frustrating.  Although I only understand about 20% of what is said in class, I do feel like I am learning a little French and my presence in the class makes the others feel much better about their language skills.  For example, I have been a source of entertainment for the rest of the class as I struggle to correctly pronounce basic phrases.  Even a simple phrase, such as "I live in the United States" is a tongue twister for me.  The French version is "J'habite aux États Unis."  It looks simple and if I saw the words written on paper I might guess that "États Unis" refers to the United States, but unfortunately it sounds nothing like it looks on paper.  The French like to run words together and ignore consonants just to confuse people like me.  Pronounced properly, it sounds something like "jah-beet ah-say-tah-zoo-nee."

People on the sidewalk outside fashion show

One thing that I am enjoying learning is French idioms, which are full of politically incorrect expressions.  My favorites are "femme de foyer" (housewife) and "lèche-vitrine" (which means "window shopping" but literally translates to "licking the glass").

As we enter our second full week in Paris, we are falling into a routine - fresh croissants for breakfast, an afternoon snack (goûte), an evening stroll (with great people watching particularly during fashion week), and a late dinner,  Paris continues to produce new surprises, such as stumbling onto movie stars and fashion designers exiting from a John-Paul Gaultier fashion show. I find myself looking forward to learning to speak and understand French a little better so that I can absorb even more of the fascinating culture.  Maybe I will find time to learn to play boules with the old men in the park.  Maybe AT&T will finally send me the unlock code for my phone so that I can insert a French SIM card.  Who knows what the new week will bring?

The Reason for the Banking Crisis in Europe (or the Bureaucracy Challenge: AT&T vs. BNP Paribas)

Only our third day in France and we've already figured out the reason why some European banks don't have enough capital.  It seems that European banks don't want new deposits.  Actually, to be fair, it seems that a bank in France is much more than a bank in the U.S.  When you have a banking relationship in France, the bank is implicitly and explicitly vouching for your credit and character.  Thus, banks in France want a lot more information than a U.S. bank before they accept your money.

Nonetheless, we were resolved to open a bank account today because we wanted to get a cell phone. Why are the two related?  The French cell phone companies that we talked to yesterday wanted us to have a French bank account before opening anything other than a prepaid account with a new phone.

After researching French banks, we decided that the best bank to use was BNP Paribas so at 9 a.m., we marched into the nearest BNP Paribas branch and after several minutes of discussion between Bronwyn and bank officer (in French), we think that we were told that they could not open an account at the local bank branch, but that we should try the next branch down the street.  What kind of bank has branches where you can't open an account and deposit money?

After eventually locating a slightly larger branch "down the street" we were given a long list of documents that they would require in order to consider our request including:

• Proof of residence (such as phone, water and electricity bills) authenticated by the French Ambassy [sic] / Consulate in the United States [it is no wonder that the French consulate in Atlanta has such limited time to review visa applications when they are also expected to verify telephone and gas bills for French banks]
• House insurance certificate
• Last salary slip 
• Proof of legal residency in France (residency visa?)
• Banking letter of recommendation in French and English detailing at least the address, the family name, the surname, our birth dates, the value of all of our bank accounts, the value of our other assets, the normal "flow" through the bank accounts, the length of time that we have had accounts with the bank and a (further?) proof of residence in the U.S.  Naturally, this would need to be verified with all possible seals and ribbons (mere notarization would not be enough)

After Bronwyn and I conferred about the difficulty of the request, Bronwy politely lied in French to the bank clerk and told her that we could get the necessary information.  This obviously surprised the clerk, but she advised us that they would not be able set up an appointment for us to open up a new account until next week.  We were beginning to get the impression that European banks really don't like opening new accounts and having people deposit money in their bank.

Fortunately, Bronwyn is not easily deterred.  Since BNP Paribas is a major international bank and it is headquartered is in Paris (apparently there are about 20,000 employees in Paris), she asked if there was anybody in Paris who might be able to meet with us to discuss opening a new account before next week.  Although the clerk seemed skeptical that the bank could free up an employee to accept a deposit she eventually was able to find one employee on the opposite side of Paris who appeared to have an opening in his schedule today at 11:30 a.m.

We went back to the apartment, gathered as much financial information as possible, and then hustled across town (using our new Metro cards) hoping we would not be late.  We arrived a couple of minutes early.  After we waited for 30 minutes with minimal acknowledgement from the receptionist we were eventually informed that a mistake had been made and that the appointment had been scheduled at a time when the person we were supposed to meet was to be at a meeting outside the office.  At first we were told to wait, but eventually the receptionist suggested that we return next week.

After hearing our tale of woe, the receptionist returned to her desk and had a telephone conversation with the bank officer.  Just as we were about to leave she informed us that the bank officer was going to return and meet with us.  An hour after we arrived, we were greeted by the bank officer and invited to come back to an office.  He was actually very nice, he spoke excellent English and it seemed that he really was missing a lunch appointment to fit us into his schedule.

Bronwyn explained our situation.  One of the first things that the bank officer wanted to know was our phone number.  It seems that you have to have a phone number to open a bank account (and a bank account to get a phone number).  We dodged that bullet by giving him the phone number of our home in Charlotte and cell phones, which were no longer operative.

Although the bank officer was very accommodating and waived many of the requirements, the bank officer informed us that in order to open an account we would still need to get an original signed letter of reference from our home bank verifying our financial life history. More significantly, we would need to deposit 15,000 Euro for at least two years as collateral, in addition to whatever amount of money we wanted to actually use in France.  (I was tempted to remind him that we just wanted to deposit money into a checking account, not take out a loan, but fortunately I kept my mouth shut.) After two and one-half hours at the bank we walked away with a long list of information that the bank would need, but no bank account that we could use.  It seemed that we would not have a bank account for at least a couple of weeks.

Fortunately, all was not lost.  Bronwyn found a cell-phone provider that appeared to not require a bank account as a condition to getting a cell phone.  Even better, the cell phone company had an office on the same side of Paris as the bank offices.  This cell phone provider (the name of the company is "Free") was much more flexible and gladly handed us a sim card for our iPhone and required only a credit card for unlimited calling and data to Europe and the U.S.

The only catch was that our cell phones were still locked by AT&T even though we had begun the process to get AT&T to unlock the phones three weeks earlier and had been promised by AT&T that we'd be able to unlock the phones by the time our AT&T cell phone service ended on July 3.  After multiple trans-Atlantic calls to AT&T we finally succeeded in unlocking Bronwyn's phone and installing the new European SIM card at 9 pm.  Still, we are declaring the day a success.  We may not have a bank account, but we have a working cell phone and we are no longer dependent on free Wifi.

AT&T thinks that they might be able to get around to unlocking my phone within two weeks.

Thus, in the end, it appears that AT&T is even more bureaucratic than either French banks or French telcom companies.  On this 4th of July weekend, it makes me proud to know that after only 240 years, an American company is even more bureaucratic than the European companies.

We celebrated by walking around the neighborhood.  My next goal is to learn to play Boules like the amazing gentlemen pictured below who were playing in the local park.  What better way to learn the culture.

Hot Time in Paris

It has been another day of record heat in Paris.  As a result, other than a walk to the Eiffel Tower this morning (when it was still relatively cool), our sightseeing mostly has been limited to touring the inside of stores with air conditioning (note that the French concept of air conditioning is to place a large portable AC unit near the door to create an initial blast of cool air, but to keep all of the doors open to assure that the temperature in the store never goes below 90 degrees Fahrenheit).

Actually, our time in the stores was probably more educational than any sightseeing tour.  Figuring out how to do the simple things such as grocery shopping is really daunting for me and would be almost impossible if Bronwyn was not fluent in French.  Most of the products in the stores are just enough different that I can spend several minutes just trying to figure out if a box contains laundry detergent, dishwasher detergent or something else.  

Today our big accomplishment was getting month-long subway passes.  Hopefully, we got the right kind of pass because there were a multitude of options.  Even getting the pictures required for the passes was difficult.   We knew that we were supposed to bring to the subway office small min-passport photos which would be placed on the subway pass, but we couldn't quite figure out where to get the mini-photos.  Eventually, we were directed to a photo booth in the subway and the fun began. The photo booth had a long succession of screens with instructions that were mostly indecipherable to me (we did decipher that no smiling is allowed in the photo).  The photo booth automatically determined whether the photo complied with official standards and it prompted you to retake the photo if it concluded that the photo was inadequate.  After several tries, Bronwyn and Joan managed to get a photo that the machine deemed acceptable (photos that make mugshots look flattering), but I was never able to get a photo the ;machine deemed acceptable.  Eventually, I just printed some substandard photos and fortunately the man giving us the passes never looked at my photos to see whether they had the official stamp of approval (which they did not).

If something relatively simple like getting a subway pass or buying soap is challenging, you would have really enjoyed watching us trying to investigate different types of cell phone plans.  The options are baffling and the clerks seemed to be trying to sell us the most expensive option possible.  It sounded like we were being told that it would be cheaper to buy a new phone than simply put a French sim card into our unlocked iPhones, which is what the guidebooks say is the best option.  We gave up before we started a discussion about exactly what type of plan to purchase, but I think that we understood correctly that we have to open a French bank account before they would even consider putting us on anything other than a prepaid plan for tourists.  Thus, tomorrow we try to open a French bank account (in addition to registering with the French police as required by our visa).  It is sure to be another fun day navigating the French bureaucracy.  I've tried to research French banks, but it is difficult to compare "apples to apples" so I've decided that my sole criteria will be whether the bank offices are air conditioned.

(By the way, for some reason, Google assumes that I speak French when I use the web in France, thus I have no idea which button to click to publish this blog entry.)

Nous sommes arrivés!

We have arrived in Paris!

It is hotter than ever here, with no ac, but I am just so happy to be here, I do not care!

Love the apartment….it is in a great location and has a great balcony overlooking the street.

Rick is in the other room snoring away….and it is 6:30pm!  The heat has sucked the life out of him…..oh, and the 5:00am wake up this morning to catch the train to Paris.

We had a little bit of a scare last night because we found out that the Eurostar train were on strike and that the workers in Calais, France (the entry into France) were lighting fires on the tracks to prevent trains from entering into France from London.  Several trains were canceled yesterday, and it was questionable as to whether things would be resolved by this morning.

The good news is that there were no issues….except for the fact that my luggage jammed in the X-ray scanner because it was too fat!!!  Not kidding!  They had to reroute passengers to other lines while they reset the system!  How embarrassing!

Once we arrived in Paris, it took over an hour to get from the Gare du Nord to our apartment in the 6eme….the traffic was horrible.  We are super glad that we do not have a car until after we leave here.

We have already done some preliminary grocery shopping.  I put that in bold, to alleviate any concerns that mon chéri might have.

Rick had a weak moment and got Joanie one of her favorites.

Tonight, we will have a “picnic” dinner….baguette, cheese, sausage, and red wine.  It’s much too hot to cook!