With my first few entries of this blog, I was aiming to paint an illustrative, inspiring, and too-good-to-be-true image of my life here in Aix-en-Provence. Everything I wrote is how I truly see it, bona fide Holly's point of view. While this place continues to amaze and surprise me every day, and I do absolutely love it, today's entry serves to allow me to vent a little, and to show my readers (especially any of whom may be a tad jealous), that it's not always peaches and cream en France.
The bus system here.
Because Hillary (my dear friend and housemate) and I live a considerable distance outside of downtown, we decided to try to figure out the labyrinth that is the bus system. I originally thought maybe I'd just walk every day so that I could enjoy the fresh air and get a daily walk in, but that was just a little too ambitious. Heavy books + laptop + potential bad weather + early mornings means I'm taking the bus every once in a while.
One day after school we went to a bus stop near the university to await bus #21, which takes us right to our street. 21 was boldly posted on the list of routes that stop there - perfect! We were becoming Aixoise pros right away. Piece of cake.
... I wish.
Bus 21 never came, and it finally took me asking a bus driver of a different bus what the deal was. His response (in French) was something like, "Oh yeah, 21 doesn't come here any more. It takes them a while to update the lists."
Are you KIDDING me? I'm sorry, but it's times like this that I think, This would NEVER happen in New York. Or Chicago. Or Philadelphia. Or Charlotte. Even the CAT bus at Clemson. Or any other American city where people have places they need to be, on time. Sorry to vent, but it's true. Americans would not put up with this nonsense, and neither would I.
Customer Service
Here at IAU, we've been well trained to make sure we say "bonjour," "merci," and "s'il vous plait" whenever we enter a store. La politesse is very important here, and just like at home, having good manners is very important, and it means a lot to the store managers. I couldn't agree more.
Well, today was no different. I was at the grocery store called "Casino" with Hillary, picking up a few necessities to get me through the week - pens, wine, grapes, bread, et cetera. I always get just a tiny bit stressed going through a grocery line in France, because people who wait behind you can practically smell the "foreigner" in you, even though I've tried painstakingly to fit in here with my blue striped shirts and scarves and black ballet flats.
I'm waiting patiently in line, giving the people in front of me plenty of room. When it's finally my turn, a man jumps in front of me to ask the cashier if she has change for one of his 50 cent coins. (Really? Change for a COIN? I've heard of change for a $20 but really...) So of course the cashier disregards me and deals with the man who needs coins.
Now it's my turn. I say "bonjour," smile, and start putting my groceries on the belt. Everything's going smoothly, until she gets to the grapes. Oh, the grapes. I had picked out these lovely grapes, the kind that you'd imagine a Greek goddess eating. They're dark, natural looking with a little farm dust on them, and the perfect ripeness. I had placed them in a plastic bag, but forgot to mark the weight of them. So the lady gives me this look, as if I could not be any more moronic. There are maybe 7 people behind me in line at this point.
I run back with the grapes to the produce section, weigh the grapes, and print out the sticker. I come back in line, perfectly willing to wait at the end of the line, because I didn't want to inconvenience anyone. But the lady yelled at me to come forward, since she'd already started ringing me up.
So I proudly presented to her my freshly-weighed and priced grapes, and she took the bag and held it like it was a dirty diaper. This time, she looked at me like there was something wrong with me, just shaking her head as if I was a lost cause.
I never did understand what I did wrong, because there was no way I would remotely consider contributing ANY business to that store, ever. So I left my pile of groceries on the counter, unpaid for, for Madame Baguette-up-the-Derrière to sort through and put back where they belong. I was starting to miss my grocery stores at home, who know about customer service. (And have the technology to just weigh the grapes at the register for you).
Sidewalks
I dont think anywhere in the world is more strict on parking regulations than Clemson University. Believe me, I've been to the Parking Services office a number of times to try to appeal tickets for being in the wrong spot. It's people like me who keep them in business.
While it would have been nice to catch a break every once in a while, here in France, parking is simply not regulated. On the walk to school (since, as you know, the bus can't always be counted on), I have to dodge more cars parked on sidewalks than I can count. Which is dangerous, because that leaves nowhere to walk except for the busy street. It seems that cars can just post up wherever they like, whenever they like. Parking spot? Psh, who needs those. I'll take the sidewalk.
It's not just cars, though. Construction seems to be happening constantly, but instead of creating a safe, alternate route for pedestrians, we're just on our own, to cut through a gas station or walk in the street around the piles of debris.
In closing, I hope this has at most provided some entertainment. I still feel incredibly lucky and happy to be living in Aix, despite these harmless interactions I've had. Hey, it's all part of the experience, right?! It just goes to show that no place is perfect, no matter how good the food is.
I strive not to feel embittered by these cultural snafus, but instead, to be all the more thankful to be a citizen of the capitalistic, caring, schedule-oriented, and free place that is the United States of America.
The bus system here.
Because Hillary (my dear friend and housemate) and I live a considerable distance outside of downtown, we decided to try to figure out the labyrinth that is the bus system. I originally thought maybe I'd just walk every day so that I could enjoy the fresh air and get a daily walk in, but that was just a little too ambitious. Heavy books + laptop + potential bad weather + early mornings means I'm taking the bus every once in a while.
One day after school we went to a bus stop near the university to await bus #21, which takes us right to our street. 21 was boldly posted on the list of routes that stop there - perfect! We were becoming Aixoise pros right away. Piece of cake.
... I wish.
Bus 21 never came, and it finally took me asking a bus driver of a different bus what the deal was. His response (in French) was something like, "Oh yeah, 21 doesn't come here any more. It takes them a while to update the lists."
Are you KIDDING me? I'm sorry, but it's times like this that I think, This would NEVER happen in New York. Or Chicago. Or Philadelphia. Or Charlotte. Even the CAT bus at Clemson. Or any other American city where people have places they need to be, on time. Sorry to vent, but it's true. Americans would not put up with this nonsense, and neither would I.
Customer Service
Here at IAU, we've been well trained to make sure we say "bonjour," "merci," and "s'il vous plait" whenever we enter a store. La politesse is very important here, and just like at home, having good manners is very important, and it means a lot to the store managers. I couldn't agree more.
Well, today was no different. I was at the grocery store called "Casino" with Hillary, picking up a few necessities to get me through the week - pens, wine, grapes, bread, et cetera. I always get just a tiny bit stressed going through a grocery line in France, because people who wait behind you can practically smell the "foreigner" in you, even though I've tried painstakingly to fit in here with my blue striped shirts and scarves and black ballet flats.
I'm waiting patiently in line, giving the people in front of me plenty of room. When it's finally my turn, a man jumps in front of me to ask the cashier if she has change for one of his 50 cent coins. (Really? Change for a COIN? I've heard of change for a $20 but really...) So of course the cashier disregards me and deals with the man who needs coins.
Now it's my turn. I say "bonjour," smile, and start putting my groceries on the belt. Everything's going smoothly, until she gets to the grapes. Oh, the grapes. I had picked out these lovely grapes, the kind that you'd imagine a Greek goddess eating. They're dark, natural looking with a little farm dust on them, and the perfect ripeness. I had placed them in a plastic bag, but forgot to mark the weight of them. So the lady gives me this look, as if I could not be any more moronic. There are maybe 7 people behind me in line at this point.
I run back with the grapes to the produce section, weigh the grapes, and print out the sticker. I come back in line, perfectly willing to wait at the end of the line, because I didn't want to inconvenience anyone. But the lady yelled at me to come forward, since she'd already started ringing me up.
So I proudly presented to her my freshly-weighed and priced grapes, and she took the bag and held it like it was a dirty diaper. This time, she looked at me like there was something wrong with me, just shaking her head as if I was a lost cause.
I never did understand what I did wrong, because there was no way I would remotely consider contributing ANY business to that store, ever. So I left my pile of groceries on the counter, unpaid for, for Madame Baguette-up-the-Derrière to sort through and put back where they belong. I was starting to miss my grocery stores at home, who know about customer service. (And have the technology to just weigh the grapes at the register for you).
Sidewalks
I dont think anywhere in the world is more strict on parking regulations than Clemson University. Believe me, I've been to the Parking Services office a number of times to try to appeal tickets for being in the wrong spot. It's people like me who keep them in business.
While it would have been nice to catch a break every once in a while, here in France, parking is simply not regulated. On the walk to school (since, as you know, the bus can't always be counted on), I have to dodge more cars parked on sidewalks than I can count. Which is dangerous, because that leaves nowhere to walk except for the busy street. It seems that cars can just post up wherever they like, whenever they like. Parking spot? Psh, who needs those. I'll take the sidewalk.
It's not just cars, though. Construction seems to be happening constantly, but instead of creating a safe, alternate route for pedestrians, we're just on our own, to cut through a gas station or walk in the street around the piles of debris.
In closing, I hope this has at most provided some entertainment. I still feel incredibly lucky and happy to be living in Aix, despite these harmless interactions I've had. Hey, it's all part of the experience, right?! It just goes to show that no place is perfect, no matter how good the food is.
I strive not to feel embittered by these cultural snafus, but instead, to be all the more thankful to be a citizen of the capitalistic, caring, schedule-oriented, and free place that is the United States of America.