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Vente privée
One of the many perks (and quite possibly the best one) of my job includes priority access to many vente privées throughout the year. A vente privée literally translates to "private sale," but saying it in English doesn't quite give off the same meaning as when I hear it in French. I'd compare it more to a special few days when guests can shop a brand name at their leisure and pay for their items at a very generous employee discount. Sometimes, this means that the sale will be full of past seasons' collections or off-colored and blemished items, but that is not usually the norm.
Last year, I attended my first vente privée in Paris, and it was such an adrenaline rush. Usually, a huge line forms before the sale begins, and depending on the brand's popularity, it could continue throughout the day. Most sales are held in spaces or warehouses specifically designed and purposed for such, which means they are professionally staffed with people who run these kinds of private sales for a living. Nothing but wallets and cell phones are permitted on the selling floor, so a mandatory coat and purse check is the first place to visit after showing your invitation and ID to the security guard at the door (once you've finally made it there). Then, you grab a massive plastic bag and fill it with as many shoes, purses, wallets, and clothes your heart desires before finally sorting it out into "keep" and "sadly leave behind" piles.
There are no dressing rooms to try your clothes on, so oftentimes, you'll catch a glimpse at someone's undies or see people posing with their hangered treasures in front of the few mirrors available. Most bags, shoes and haute couture items are placed on shelved walls guarded by staff members who stand in front of the shelves and behind a table of display bags. You can usually grab what you want from the table, but if you notice something sparkling on the shelf, you can simply ask for it from the staff member.
As much as it all sounds like such a privileged and organized event, it can get pretty ugly. I went to a sale a few weeks ago on its third day of opening (vente privées can last anywhere from one to five or more days), and could not believe the chaos that normally respectable ladies were causing ... for fabric bags, no less! The staff can only stock so much on display, so the rest is left hidden "backstage" in cardboard boxes that don't give any indication as to what's in them. For deal-desperate shoppers, this means that as the day goes on, there will be more stock with possibly newer items available for sale, so, someone's dream bag could be trapped in a cardboard box and not come out until the end of the sale. And, that's what these "ladies" were hoping would happen for them if they waited and pushed long enough. Despite there being limits on how many bags and shoes can be purchased, these women had gobs of handbags well over the limit and had invited every friend, neighbor and cousin to come with them so they could amass the most stock possible. I could barely stand the insanity, so I left empty-handed from that sale and swore to never again wait to come when the invitation is extended beyond the employees of the company (it's usually open to anyone with an invite after the first day).
There are a few "big" brands that everyone looks forward to but are really strict on the amounts of items you can buy and whether or not you can bring a guest (you usually can't for the popular brands). And, as for the prices, well, they're quite good considering the brand that's being sold and the retail prices that the items would normally sell for. But, these are expensive goods we're talking about here, so it's kind of just relative.
My job has definitely fed my desire for fancy purses and logoed shoes that I never really had so much before. Women at my office are often dressed head to toe in recognizable designer threads, so walking around in my Zara dress, H&M heels and Gap handbag doesn't turn many heads for the right reason. And, mostly I'm OK with that. I never buy everything I want, but I often rationalize my rare vente privée splurges by reminding myself that every Parisienne needs a nice handbag (or four) and that I won't have access to the sales once my work contract is up. Now, rationalizing my need for three more handbags to Gui, well that's another story, and obviously, he's no longer sensitive to my so-called "need" to fit in.
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Last year, I attended my first vente privée in Paris, and it was such an adrenaline rush. Usually, a huge line forms before the sale begins, and depending on the brand's popularity, it could continue throughout the day. Most sales are held in spaces or warehouses specifically designed and purposed for such, which means they are professionally staffed with people who run these kinds of private sales for a living. Nothing but wallets and cell phones are permitted on the selling floor, so a mandatory coat and purse check is the first place to visit after showing your invitation and ID to the security guard at the door (once you've finally made it there). Then, you grab a massive plastic bag and fill it with as many shoes, purses, wallets, and clothes your heart desires before finally sorting it out into "keep" and "sadly leave behind" piles.
There are no dressing rooms to try your clothes on, so oftentimes, you'll catch a glimpse at someone's undies or see people posing with their hangered treasures in front of the few mirrors available. Most bags, shoes and haute couture items are placed on shelved walls guarded by staff members who stand in front of the shelves and behind a table of display bags. You can usually grab what you want from the table, but if you notice something sparkling on the shelf, you can simply ask for it from the staff member.
As much as it all sounds like such a privileged and organized event, it can get pretty ugly. I went to a sale a few weeks ago on its third day of opening (vente privées can last anywhere from one to five or more days), and could not believe the chaos that normally respectable ladies were causing ... for fabric bags, no less! The staff can only stock so much on display, so the rest is left hidden "backstage" in cardboard boxes that don't give any indication as to what's in them. For deal-desperate shoppers, this means that as the day goes on, there will be more stock with possibly newer items available for sale, so, someone's dream bag could be trapped in a cardboard box and not come out until the end of the sale. And, that's what these "ladies" were hoping would happen for them if they waited and pushed long enough. Despite there being limits on how many bags and shoes can be purchased, these women had gobs of handbags well over the limit and had invited every friend, neighbor and cousin to come with them so they could amass the most stock possible. I could barely stand the insanity, so I left empty-handed from that sale and swore to never again wait to come when the invitation is extended beyond the employees of the company (it's usually open to anyone with an invite after the first day).
There are a few "big" brands that everyone looks forward to but are really strict on the amounts of items you can buy and whether or not you can bring a guest (you usually can't for the popular brands). And, as for the prices, well, they're quite good considering the brand that's being sold and the retail prices that the items would normally sell for. But, these are expensive goods we're talking about here, so it's kind of just relative.
My job has definitely fed my desire for fancy purses and logoed shoes that I never really had so much before. Women at my office are often dressed head to toe in recognizable designer threads, so walking around in my Zara dress, H&M heels and Gap handbag doesn't turn many heads for the right reason. And, mostly I'm OK with that. I never buy everything I want, but I often rationalize my rare vente privée splurges by reminding myself that every Parisienne needs a nice handbag (or four) and that I won't have access to the sales once my work contract is up. Now, rationalizing my need for three more handbags to Gui, well that's another story, and obviously, he's no longer sensitive to my so-called "need" to fit in.
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My latest splurge.
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My latest sacrifice. (So sad.)
Dernière minute
I'm not really a last minute kind of gal. I like to plan ahead, make reservations, shop around and do everything I can to ensure that whatever is happening is done so in the smoothest and most efficient way possible. I don't mind saying yes to a last-minute invitation or hop off to a movie or dinner on the spur of the moment, but when making plans to, say, host a party or take a trip, quick decisions make me nervous and wary.
This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk. Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them. Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough. I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts.
On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together. It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff. My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others. Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see. But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see. Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time.
Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing. I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?
Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France. Just leaving. I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad. All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies. I just wanted to be near them all.
So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket. Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy. He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation). So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it. More than cool. He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance. I was elated.
I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good. Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind. I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent. Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics.
This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk. Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them. Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough. I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts.
On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together. It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff. My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others. Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see. But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see. Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time.
Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing. I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?
Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France. Just leaving. I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad. All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies. I just wanted to be near them all.
So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket. Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy. He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation). So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it. More than cool. He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance. I was elated.
I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good. Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind. I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent. Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics.
Auntie's on her way! See you soon, cuties!
Out of the woodwork
I've been thinking a lot about my blog lately; my poor, neglected, orphaned blog. I think I want to jump back on the wagon and rediscover the therapeutic benefits that thought-disposal provides to my tangled-up, conflicted expat emotions.
There's quite a bit of stuff going on round these parts lately. I'm still working on Fancy Street, with fancy people in their fancy clothes, speaking their fancy French. My French is still not quite so fancy, but I have to admit it's improved substantially since the last time I blogged. I can generally hold a telephonic conversation now, and my vocabulary list has expanded at least two-fold. I often hear myself speaking and think of how impressed my girl friends back home would be, being fancy French-speakers themselves. I still improperly conjugate my verbs and say things like à bientôt when I should really say à toute or à plus-tard, but to that I say, "whatevs." At the office I'm still pretty much the outcast, alien American that people kind of look at suspiciously, as if waiting to see if I'll explode or bust out in song and dance. And, at least once a week I find myself in culture-shock hell and wishing I could hail a cab to the airport to jump on the first 14-hour flight headed West. But mostly, I'm getting the hang of the Paris version of the daily grind and find comfort in the habits that I am used to and the skills that set me apart from everyone else (that mostly being my English-speaking talent).
And, it's still winter in Paris, so I'm hoping that has something to do with some of my work woes. This year, winter has been pretty rough on me. I've never gone so long in my life without seeing the sun or wearing flip-flops. I'm going to blame this rant on my lack of vitamin D, but seriously, summer could not come any sooner! (Man, do I sound whiney!) Besides the gloomy, frigid weather of late, Paris folk don't get any warmer or friendlier in the wintertime either, which is why I stocked up on paperbacks from WH Smith yesterday to hide my face behind during my somber morning metro rides. There's nothing worse than staring at a car-full of grumps in the morning before the first coffee's been poured.
But there is light at the end of the gloomy, snow-filled tunnel, and it comes in the form of les vacances! Gui and I are planning our winter, spring and summer trips right now and just thinking about the possibility of a beach and a tank-top in my near future has got me snubbing the cold. We probably won't be headed anywhere warmer until March, but I think I can handle a few more weeks of hoofing it under cloudy skies if I have a sandy towel and umbrella-topped cocktail to look forward to.
We already know that we'll be going to Texas in June, though. If I could take more than a couple of days paid vacation before then, we'd be going in March, but c'est la vie. Besides the obvious reasons of seeing family and friends, Gui and I will be going back to the States in June to "activate" his immigration visa. He applied for the visa in August last year and after going through the process at the embassy in Paris, he recently received the literal stamp of approval to live and work in the States, which requires him to enter the US within 6 months. We're really excited about moving back, and we're hoping to get a date worked out and plans set in stone once we're there in June. There's still loads to sort out, but thankfully, we have some time before my work contract is up to work out the logisitcs and make some decisions. I do already know, however, that whatever date we decide on moving back, it must be before next winter hits. It's pretty clear that my Texan blood just isn't cut out for this big-city winter!
There's quite a bit of stuff going on round these parts lately. I'm still working on Fancy Street, with fancy people in their fancy clothes, speaking their fancy French. My French is still not quite so fancy, but I have to admit it's improved substantially since the last time I blogged. I can generally hold a telephonic conversation now, and my vocabulary list has expanded at least two-fold. I often hear myself speaking and think of how impressed my girl friends back home would be, being fancy French-speakers themselves. I still improperly conjugate my verbs and say things like à bientôt when I should really say à toute or à plus-tard, but to that I say, "whatevs." At the office I'm still pretty much the outcast, alien American that people kind of look at suspiciously, as if waiting to see if I'll explode or bust out in song and dance. And, at least once a week I find myself in culture-shock hell and wishing I could hail a cab to the airport to jump on the first 14-hour flight headed West. But mostly, I'm getting the hang of the Paris version of the daily grind and find comfort in the habits that I am used to and the skills that set me apart from everyone else (that mostly being my English-speaking talent).
And, it's still winter in Paris, so I'm hoping that has something to do with some of my work woes. This year, winter has been pretty rough on me. I've never gone so long in my life without seeing the sun or wearing flip-flops. I'm going to blame this rant on my lack of vitamin D, but seriously, summer could not come any sooner! (Man, do I sound whiney!) Besides the gloomy, frigid weather of late, Paris folk don't get any warmer or friendlier in the wintertime either, which is why I stocked up on paperbacks from WH Smith yesterday to hide my face behind during my somber morning metro rides. There's nothing worse than staring at a car-full of grumps in the morning before the first coffee's been poured.
But there is light at the end of the gloomy, snow-filled tunnel, and it comes in the form of les vacances! Gui and I are planning our winter, spring and summer trips right now and just thinking about the possibility of a beach and a tank-top in my near future has got me snubbing the cold. We probably won't be headed anywhere warmer until March, but I think I can handle a few more weeks of hoofing it under cloudy skies if I have a sandy towel and umbrella-topped cocktail to look forward to.
We already know that we'll be going to Texas in June, though. If I could take more than a couple of days paid vacation before then, we'd be going in March, but c'est la vie. Besides the obvious reasons of seeing family and friends, Gui and I will be going back to the States in June to "activate" his immigration visa. He applied for the visa in August last year and after going through the process at the embassy in Paris, he recently received the literal stamp of approval to live and work in the States, which requires him to enter the US within 6 months. We're really excited about moving back, and we're hoping to get a date worked out and plans set in stone once we're there in June. There's still loads to sort out, but thankfully, we have some time before my work contract is up to work out the logisitcs and make some decisions. I do already know, however, that whatever date we decide on moving back, it must be before next winter hits. It's pretty clear that my Texan blood just isn't cut out for this big-city winter!
First day fabulousness
I wore 4-inch heels on my first day of work and I surprisingly didn't regret it. It might have had something to do with my adrenaline pushing at full speed for most of the day, but I'm sure it helped that I was spending my entire day working in one of the most luxurious offices in Paris for the finest luxury goods company in the world. Without going into too much detail, I will say that I really lucked out with my job search, and I could not have dreamed up a better place to kick off my career in Paris - French-style.
I'm not going to lie - my new job (assisting a team in a financial capacity) is no walk in the park, but I'm so thrilled to be back in the saddle again, with looming deadlines and major responsibilities. From the moment I walked in the door, I felt the pressure of expectation that I had been so dearly missing and longing for these past several months. My colleagues put me straight to work...in French, bien sûr, leaving me no time to stop and ponder the subjunctive or consider synonyms for my overused adjectives. Like I said: no walk in the park. But, I surprisingly soaked it all up, understood every last preposition as if my life depended on it, and came to the conclusion that I'm really going to like my new job.
I've never been so happy to be so insanely busy in my life. It feels great to be challenged; to know that even though I'm good at something now, I'm probably going to be great at it soon. Really, the only time I felt remotely inadequate was when I took a tour of the floor and had to meet (read: make small-talk) with everyone else. I'm waiting (impatiently) for my professional communication skills to improve, but I'm proud to have already made it this far.
I've still got a long way to go, I know. For the moment, though, I'm ecstatic! And, after putting in a nearly 10-hour day, I came home to a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of the most delicious champagne I've ever tasted. Then, I was treated to a three-course meal at my favorite restaurant in Paris (and the same one that we dined at after our wedding). Gui definitely knows how to celebrate new beginnings!
I will say, though, that getting into a new routine that involves early evenings and even earlier mornings is not going to be so easy for me. I've been so used to going to bed and getting up at my own leisure, that waking up before it's daylight is not such an easy transition. So, I'm off to get some rest before another exciting and busy day commences. Tomorrow I'm looking forward to digging my feet into the pile of work that I've gotten myself into, but I think I'm going to give my heels a rest and maybe sport a pair of stylish flats instead.
I'm not going to lie - my new job (assisting a team in a financial capacity) is no walk in the park, but I'm so thrilled to be back in the saddle again, with looming deadlines and major responsibilities. From the moment I walked in the door, I felt the pressure of expectation that I had been so dearly missing and longing for these past several months. My colleagues put me straight to work...in French, bien sûr, leaving me no time to stop and ponder the subjunctive or consider synonyms for my overused adjectives. Like I said: no walk in the park. But, I surprisingly soaked it all up, understood every last preposition as if my life depended on it, and came to the conclusion that I'm really going to like my new job.
I've never been so happy to be so insanely busy in my life. It feels great to be challenged; to know that even though I'm good at something now, I'm probably going to be great at it soon. Really, the only time I felt remotely inadequate was when I took a tour of the floor and had to meet (read: make small-talk) with everyone else. I'm waiting (impatiently) for my professional communication skills to improve, but I'm proud to have already made it this far.
I've still got a long way to go, I know. For the moment, though, I'm ecstatic! And, after putting in a nearly 10-hour day, I came home to a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of the most delicious champagne I've ever tasted. Then, I was treated to a three-course meal at my favorite restaurant in Paris (and the same one that we dined at after our wedding). Gui definitely knows how to celebrate new beginnings!
I will say, though, that getting into a new routine that involves early evenings and even earlier mornings is not going to be so easy for me. I've been so used to going to bed and getting up at my own leisure, that waking up before it's daylight is not such an easy transition. So, I'm off to get some rest before another exciting and busy day commences. Tomorrow I'm looking forward to digging my feet into the pile of work that I've gotten myself into, but I think I'm going to give my heels a rest and maybe sport a pair of stylish flats instead.
Funny how it all works out.
I feel like it's the first day of school tomorrow. I've been running around the apartment getting my paperwork and supplies ready, my bag packed and picking out an outfit for what will be my first day of work in nearly two years. And I am SO excited!
To backtrack a bit, I had a really successful interview with that French speaking recruiter a couple of weeks ago. She sent me on to interview with the company she was recruiting for that same week. It was a terrifying experience.
By this time, I had been sick with what was probably laryngitis or strep-throat for more than a week and my sexy-phone-operator voice and coughing fits did not make it any easier to interview in a language I'm still struggling to speak. I met with the human resources director for the company and found myself having an incredibly hard time understanding her. At one point, my focus during the interview seemed to shift from highlighting my qualifications to stifling my persistent coughs. As I sat in her corner office with a perfectly centered view of the world's most famous radio tower, I realized that this was my chance to get my foot in the door, and I was scared I was letting it get away because of a stupid cough. A few minutes into what was becoming a train wreck of an interview, she excused herself from the conversation to read through what the recruiter had sent her detailing my qualifications and requirements. I used those precious few minutes to gather my thoughts and come up with a way to get back on track with the interview.
When she returned to continue the Q&A with me, I did everything I could to assure her that I was well qualified for the job, that I was ready to continue my career, and that I would be a great fit with the company. She seemed mostly pleased with what I had to say and eventually asked me to sit down with the person whose position I was interviewing for to get more details about the job. This time it was in English, and I have to say that I felt rather confident when she said she'd be in touch, which is why it was so surprising to me when a week passed by and I hadn't heard a thing. Not a "yes" or a "no" or a "we're still thinking it over" - rien.
I thought back about what could've gone wrong; about my qualifications and French speaking skills; about my fumbled interview with the HR director. And, I convinced myself that I was just not cut out for the job.
Then, the next day, someone calls me late in the evening from the same company but from an entirely different department. She explains that her boss received my CV from HR and wanted to see me the next day for a job in their department. I was baffled about who this person was, why they wanted to see me so soon and what type of position they were recruiting for. Up until this point, I'd been dealing entirely with the recruiter and I started wondering if this phone call was even legit. Despite not having much time to prepare for the interview - especially for one that's for a mystery job in a mystery department - I got myself up the next morning, put on my suit and heels, and made my way to the fanciest street in Paris to see what was going on.
It turns out that the job is quite different from the one to which I previously applied, but it's slightly more intriguing. I met with the entire team that same day, and I was really surprised at how perfectly matched I seemed to be for the opening in their team. They must've been equally surprised because they offered me the job less than two hours after I bounced out of their office with a grin on my face.
I still don't know why my CV was passed along or what became of the other job, but I'm chocking it all up to fate. It amazes me how all of the pieces just fell into place, and I'm so astonished at how incredibly well my new job suits me (despite the fact that it's mostly in French, bien sûr). Tomorrow's my first day, and I might end up hating or loving my time there, but I've got to say that I've always put my faith in fate and it would seem that it has yet to ever steer me wrong.
To backtrack a bit, I had a really successful interview with that French speaking recruiter a couple of weeks ago. She sent me on to interview with the company she was recruiting for that same week. It was a terrifying experience.
By this time, I had been sick with what was probably laryngitis or strep-throat for more than a week and my sexy-phone-operator voice and coughing fits did not make it any easier to interview in a language I'm still struggling to speak. I met with the human resources director for the company and found myself having an incredibly hard time understanding her. At one point, my focus during the interview seemed to shift from highlighting my qualifications to stifling my persistent coughs. As I sat in her corner office with a perfectly centered view of the world's most famous radio tower, I realized that this was my chance to get my foot in the door, and I was scared I was letting it get away because of a stupid cough. A few minutes into what was becoming a train wreck of an interview, she excused herself from the conversation to read through what the recruiter had sent her detailing my qualifications and requirements. I used those precious few minutes to gather my thoughts and come up with a way to get back on track with the interview.
When she returned to continue the Q&A with me, I did everything I could to assure her that I was well qualified for the job, that I was ready to continue my career, and that I would be a great fit with the company. She seemed mostly pleased with what I had to say and eventually asked me to sit down with the person whose position I was interviewing for to get more details about the job. This time it was in English, and I have to say that I felt rather confident when she said she'd be in touch, which is why it was so surprising to me when a week passed by and I hadn't heard a thing. Not a "yes" or a "no" or a "we're still thinking it over" - rien.
I thought back about what could've gone wrong; about my qualifications and French speaking skills; about my fumbled interview with the HR director. And, I convinced myself that I was just not cut out for the job.
Then, the next day, someone calls me late in the evening from the same company but from an entirely different department. She explains that her boss received my CV from HR and wanted to see me the next day for a job in their department. I was baffled about who this person was, why they wanted to see me so soon and what type of position they were recruiting for. Up until this point, I'd been dealing entirely with the recruiter and I started wondering if this phone call was even legit. Despite not having much time to prepare for the interview - especially for one that's for a mystery job in a mystery department - I got myself up the next morning, put on my suit and heels, and made my way to the fanciest street in Paris to see what was going on.
It turns out that the job is quite different from the one to which I previously applied, but it's slightly more intriguing. I met with the entire team that same day, and I was really surprised at how perfectly matched I seemed to be for the opening in their team. They must've been equally surprised because they offered me the job less than two hours after I bounced out of their office with a grin on my face.
I still don't know why my CV was passed along or what became of the other job, but I'm chocking it all up to fate. It amazes me how all of the pieces just fell into place, and I'm so astonished at how incredibly well my new job suits me (despite the fact that it's mostly in French, bien sûr). Tomorrow's my first day, and I might end up hating or loving my time there, but I've got to say that I've always put my faith in fate and it would seem that it has yet to ever steer me wrong.
I can speak French?
It's nearly 5 a.m. and I can't sleep. Besides the fact that I "may be coming down with something," my mind is going at full speed, churning with French adjectives while my stomach does a similar dance as it moves from queasiness to fluttering over my conflicted feelings of hunger and excited anticipation. You see, I haven't been completely open about what's been going on in my life lately mostly because what's been going on seemed so mundane, boring and depressing. Ever since I returned to Paris, I've been struggling to find my way out of a big, messy confusion over what comes next. I think I'm at one of those profound moments in my life where I need to make some big decisions about the direction I want to take, and I haven't been very successful with sorting through my thoughts adequately, nor eloquently. But, within a matter of hours, it seems, some things happened that gave me the boost I've needed towards regaining the composure and confidence I'd lost in all my messy introspection.
I didn't mention this before, mostly because I was scared of the possibility of failure and then the subsequent explanation of failure I'd have to provide, but the day after I flew back to Paris, I interviewed for a part-time office job that I had learned about through a friend while on vacation. It was for a short-term contract that started in mid-September and ended just before Christmas, and it was right up my alley both in terms of my expected career path and timeline. It also seemed like a job that would provide the perfect scenario for our situation: by the time Gui received his green card, my work contract would be expired and we'd pack up our things and make our move to the US, all the while, I'm working and we're saving a bit of money for the big move. Well...I didn't get the job. And, although the rejection had nothing to do with my qualifications (so I was explained), I was very discouraged and demoralized after receiving it.
I spent some time afterward rethinking everything - pondering my life and its meaning, my career path and its direction, and analyzing every step I'd taken that had gotten me to this point: jobless and insecure. My apathy reached the point where it was rubbing off on Gui, and for a few days I convinced myself that perhaps I was tainted goods, no longer cut-out for the real working world in which I was once a fearless contributor.
However, having amazing friends and family, as I do, my apathy was greeted more and more with reassurance and faith, and I was convinced to pick myself up, shake myself off and get back to hitting the pavement. So, I worked on my CV and for the past week or so, I checked Paris job-banks daily - sometimes twice or thrice daily - for any job that caught my interest. At first, I was a bit disappointed with my search - it seemed every job that appealed to me and matched my qualifications required a fully bilingual candidate. And, although my French skills are far beyond what they were when I did this whole job-search thing the first time around, I'm still far from fluent (oh, how naive I was way back when I thought 6 months would be enough time to master the French language). Still, I sent my CV and lettre de motivation out to the few posts I found requiring an English-speaker, and I hoped for the best. After a few days, I started getting anxious about the lack of responses, but I trudged on with my daily routine of scouring the web for anything at all enticing to my newly-determined self. Then, on Wednesday, I received a late-afternoon phone call from a company I'd submitted my profile to last week for a job I wasn't exactly head-over-heels for, but still curious about. They asked me a few questions relating to my schedule preference, my education and background and my salary requirements. Then, they asked me to come in for an interview today. I was stoked about the interview, if not equally so about the possibility of a job, but there are a few things about the position that make it less than ideal. The most notable is that it's a part-time job with no possibility of ever becoming full-time. Nonetheless, I regained a bit of lost confidence from receiving the call and went about my day. Then, just before bed on Wednesday, Gui and I were talking about how the job-hunt was going, and I decided to open up my computer to get his feedback about some postings I'd seen earlier in the day. We came across an interesting ad that I hadn't seen before for a position that really intrigued me. I was a little worried about sending in an application since the job was posted back in mid-September, but I got over it and stayed up until after 1 a.m. fine-tuning my CV and LOM before clicking the send button. To my surprise, I awoke this morning to find I had missed a call from the job's recruiter, who was contacting me not more than 10 hours after I'd submitted my application. But, as refreshing as it was to be contacted so quickly, I was less than charmed about returning a call to the very French-speaking recruiter. After replaying the message about five times to catch all the details, I jotted down a few things to say in French, took a deep breath and pressed talk.
My call was answered and after explaining who I was and why I was calling, I politely asked if it would be OK to continue the interview in English. I knew that asking to do this could jeopardize my candidacy, but I explained that although I can understand and speak quite a bit of French, I don't feel like I can adequately express myself in a professional manner. To my surprise, my request was met with the explanation that although the job would be conducted almost entirely in English, working and living in France requires that I learn the language, so it would be to my benefit to continue in French. This was followed by a reassurance that my niveau of French seemed quite impressive, so much that I shouldn't be worried about not being able to express myself. And, with that, I pulled up my theoretical boot-straps and impressed even myself with how competently I was able to articulate my qualifications and communicate my interest in the job. When it was all done, I had secured an interview and could barely recall that the whole thing had been done in a language I thought I barely knew. I was thrilled!
I'm not sure if things will go as well for me during the interview, but I've accepted the fate of both possible outcomes. I realize that this could end with another rejection and then the admittance of said rejection, but really, I'm fine with that - it's just life. More than anything, I'm taking away from this small success a renewed positive perspective about what lies ahead. I feel like I've awakened my inner businesswoman and reminded myself of my worth. Knowing that the direction I'm taking demands confidence, optimism and above all, patience should help me stay on track and endure the inevitable bumps I'll come upon while navigating down this road. Wish me luck!
I didn't mention this before, mostly because I was scared of the possibility of failure and then the subsequent explanation of failure I'd have to provide, but the day after I flew back to Paris, I interviewed for a part-time office job that I had learned about through a friend while on vacation. It was for a short-term contract that started in mid-September and ended just before Christmas, and it was right up my alley both in terms of my expected career path and timeline. It also seemed like a job that would provide the perfect scenario for our situation: by the time Gui received his green card, my work contract would be expired and we'd pack up our things and make our move to the US, all the while, I'm working and we're saving a bit of money for the big move. Well...I didn't get the job. And, although the rejection had nothing to do with my qualifications (so I was explained), I was very discouraged and demoralized after receiving it.
I spent some time afterward rethinking everything - pondering my life and its meaning, my career path and its direction, and analyzing every step I'd taken that had gotten me to this point: jobless and insecure. My apathy reached the point where it was rubbing off on Gui, and for a few days I convinced myself that perhaps I was tainted goods, no longer cut-out for the real working world in which I was once a fearless contributor.
However, having amazing friends and family, as I do, my apathy was greeted more and more with reassurance and faith, and I was convinced to pick myself up, shake myself off and get back to hitting the pavement. So, I worked on my CV and for the past week or so, I checked Paris job-banks daily - sometimes twice or thrice daily - for any job that caught my interest. At first, I was a bit disappointed with my search - it seemed every job that appealed to me and matched my qualifications required a fully bilingual candidate. And, although my French skills are far beyond what they were when I did this whole job-search thing the first time around, I'm still far from fluent (oh, how naive I was way back when I thought 6 months would be enough time to master the French language). Still, I sent my CV and lettre de motivation out to the few posts I found requiring an English-speaker, and I hoped for the best. After a few days, I started getting anxious about the lack of responses, but I trudged on with my daily routine of scouring the web for anything at all enticing to my newly-determined self. Then, on Wednesday, I received a late-afternoon phone call from a company I'd submitted my profile to last week for a job I wasn't exactly head-over-heels for, but still curious about. They asked me a few questions relating to my schedule preference, my education and background and my salary requirements. Then, they asked me to come in for an interview today. I was stoked about the interview, if not equally so about the possibility of a job, but there are a few things about the position that make it less than ideal. The most notable is that it's a part-time job with no possibility of ever becoming full-time. Nonetheless, I regained a bit of lost confidence from receiving the call and went about my day. Then, just before bed on Wednesday, Gui and I were talking about how the job-hunt was going, and I decided to open up my computer to get his feedback about some postings I'd seen earlier in the day. We came across an interesting ad that I hadn't seen before for a position that really intrigued me. I was a little worried about sending in an application since the job was posted back in mid-September, but I got over it and stayed up until after 1 a.m. fine-tuning my CV and LOM before clicking the send button. To my surprise, I awoke this morning to find I had missed a call from the job's recruiter, who was contacting me not more than 10 hours after I'd submitted my application. But, as refreshing as it was to be contacted so quickly, I was less than charmed about returning a call to the very French-speaking recruiter. After replaying the message about five times to catch all the details, I jotted down a few things to say in French, took a deep breath and pressed talk.
My call was answered and after explaining who I was and why I was calling, I politely asked if it would be OK to continue the interview in English. I knew that asking to do this could jeopardize my candidacy, but I explained that although I can understand and speak quite a bit of French, I don't feel like I can adequately express myself in a professional manner. To my surprise, my request was met with the explanation that although the job would be conducted almost entirely in English, working and living in France requires that I learn the language, so it would be to my benefit to continue in French. This was followed by a reassurance that my niveau of French seemed quite impressive, so much that I shouldn't be worried about not being able to express myself. And, with that, I pulled up my theoretical boot-straps and impressed even myself with how competently I was able to articulate my qualifications and communicate my interest in the job. When it was all done, I had secured an interview and could barely recall that the whole thing had been done in a language I thought I barely knew. I was thrilled!
I'm not sure if things will go as well for me during the interview, but I've accepted the fate of both possible outcomes. I realize that this could end with another rejection and then the admittance of said rejection, but really, I'm fine with that - it's just life. More than anything, I'm taking away from this small success a renewed positive perspective about what lies ahead. I feel like I've awakened my inner businesswoman and reminded myself of my worth. Knowing that the direction I'm taking demands confidence, optimism and above all, patience should help me stay on track and endure the inevitable bumps I'll come upon while navigating down this road. Wish me luck!
My Maintenant
Taking the cue from my sister, I've decided to pull myself back from my blogging hiatus with a summary post of what things are looking like 'round here these days. I hardly know where to start! The most notable difference in my life right now are my eating habits. Last week, I had all of my wisdom teeth removed during what I like to refer to as a nightmarish, hell-of-an-operation. My bottom teeth were impacted and, as the doctor confirmed, presented a few difficulties during the surgery. Beside the pain, puffy cheeks and complications from the surgery, the after-effects from the general anesthesia left me feeling like my mouth had been in a fight with Edward Scissorhands. I know time heals everything, and as I start to recover from the trauma caused by my everyday dental operation, I'm realizing how typical my experience really was. That's not to say I'd ever do anything like that again, but I find comfort in knowing I'm not the only one who suffered so horribly. Is that bad?
Puffy cheeks.
Gui and I are preparing for our big Texas trip coming up in about two weeks now. It's hard to know where to even begin planning such a long trip; I'll be gone for nearly two months and Gui's coming back after one month. Of course we have plans to see family, I've got my 10-year high school reunion to attend (yikes!), and we'll be making the rounds to see our friends and their families. But, I guess we're mostly looking forward to taking a peek at what our lives could be like living back in Austin. We've started the paperwork for Gui's green card, and I've been scouring the web for jobs and polishing my CV in preparation for the impending job-hunt. Until now, the idea of moving back had been more of a surreality than reality, but if all the chips fall into place as we hope, I could be starting a new job while I'm still on vacation. The job market is a vastly different place in Texas than it is in Paris, and that's something I'd sort of naively forgotten. Over dinner last night, we went over possible scenarios and tried to work out details for dilemmas we might find ourselves in, but it's just impossible to know how it will (or won't) all work out. We're resolved to go at it confidently, but aware of the reality of our situation and the possibility of disappointment.
So, these days, I'm spending my time recovering and planning, although I wish I was spending more time using the new sewing machine I purchased a couple of weeks ago.
It's nothing fancy, but it's got a European plug and I was hoping when I bought it that it would be the creative catalyst I feel is missing my from vie quotidienne. I still have a couple of weeks before vacation starts, though and I'm thinking I might be able to crank something out for one of my new nephews who are scheduled to arrive soon. And, can I just say how stokedI am for a family full of boys?!
Puffy cheeks.Gui and I are preparing for our big Texas trip coming up in about two weeks now. It's hard to know where to even begin planning such a long trip; I'll be gone for nearly two months and Gui's coming back after one month. Of course we have plans to see family, I've got my 10-year high school reunion to attend (yikes!), and we'll be making the rounds to see our friends and their families. But, I guess we're mostly looking forward to taking a peek at what our lives could be like living back in Austin. We've started the paperwork for Gui's green card, and I've been scouring the web for jobs and polishing my CV in preparation for the impending job-hunt. Until now, the idea of moving back had been more of a surreality than reality, but if all the chips fall into place as we hope, I could be starting a new job while I'm still on vacation. The job market is a vastly different place in Texas than it is in Paris, and that's something I'd sort of naively forgotten. Over dinner last night, we went over possible scenarios and tried to work out details for dilemmas we might find ourselves in, but it's just impossible to know how it will (or won't) all work out. We're resolved to go at it confidently, but aware of the reality of our situation and the possibility of disappointment.
So, these days, I'm spending my time recovering and planning, although I wish I was spending more time using the new sewing machine I purchased a couple of weeks ago.
It's nothing fancy, but it's got a European plug and I was hoping when I bought it that it would be the creative catalyst I feel is missing my from vie quotidienne. I still have a couple of weeks before vacation starts, though and I'm thinking I might be able to crank something out for one of my new nephews who are scheduled to arrive soon. And, can I just say how stokedI am for a family full of boys?!
Gettin' busy
So, I cut my hair. FINALLY. I'd been talking about getting my hair cut since I got to France nearly a year ago, but finding someone willing and able to work with my thick mane hasn't been an easy task. After a bad experience with an inexperienced stylist last summer, I was a little worried that I'd be unsatisfied once again with the hair salons of France. But, I got a good recommendation from a trusted source, and found myself feeling a few pounds lighter and a bit more stylish after a relatively short visit with a very talented stylist in 5eme arrondissement.
I really love it! It's still pretty long, too, but it seriously feels like over half of my hair is missing - which, for me, is a really good thing. It's a really practical cut for wearing bulky winter scarves and chunky knit hats, which is a must for all the trekking around Paris I've been doing recently. I haven't been doing anything too exciting, but I've managed to get out and about and check out a few shops and landmarks that I've been setting aside for later.
I've also been trying to regain my sense of domesticity lately. For a while there, I hadn't been in any sort of mood to cook, blog or create anything really. I even came down with a sort of "knitter's block" after finishing up my first cable project. Now, I'm slowly recovering and reacquiring my appetite for creativity - I'm catching up on the hoard of backlogged new items in my reader, searching for yummy things to bake and cook for dinner this week, and knitting more projects that I've been queuing up on Ravelry. This week, I've been invited to check out a choir to see if joining the group will be the right opportunity to focus on another long-lost "hobby" of mine - singing. I'm no Mariah Carey, but I've inherited my mom's love of singing to every song, every jingle that comes to my mind. I was in choir up until high school, and I remember being a relatively strong singer - even having the opportunity to sing backups at a SXSW show - but I never kept up with it. Hopefully, this will be a chance to rediscover my love of singing and share it with others who feel the same way about music.
So, things should be getting a little more interesting around here. Besides cooking, knitting, blogging and singing, I'll be working pretty soon, too. Next week, I'll start my first job in Paris at L'Oisive Thé, the tea salon owned by my friend Aimee. I'll only be working about 20-25 hours a week, but I'm really stoked about having a "day-job." The coolest thing about my new employment is that I'll be able to spend some of my days hanging out with Aimee - there's no doubt there will be lots of knit-talk and baking during the day, but I'm also banking on improving my French a bit. It couldn't come at a better time, either. I'm ready to have a regularly-scheduled gig to keep me occupied during the week, and spending it at a tea salon in the lovely Buttes aux Cailles just doesn't get any better, if you ask me.
My latest finished project - a striped beanie for Gui.
I really love it! It's still pretty long, too, but it seriously feels like over half of my hair is missing - which, for me, is a really good thing. It's a really practical cut for wearing bulky winter scarves and chunky knit hats, which is a must for all the trekking around Paris I've been doing recently. I haven't been doing anything too exciting, but I've managed to get out and about and check out a few shops and landmarks that I've been setting aside for later.
I've also been trying to regain my sense of domesticity lately. For a while there, I hadn't been in any sort of mood to cook, blog or create anything really. I even came down with a sort of "knitter's block" after finishing up my first cable project. Now, I'm slowly recovering and reacquiring my appetite for creativity - I'm catching up on the hoard of backlogged new items in my reader, searching for yummy things to bake and cook for dinner this week, and knitting more projects that I've been queuing up on Ravelry. This week, I've been invited to check out a choir to see if joining the group will be the right opportunity to focus on another long-lost "hobby" of mine - singing. I'm no Mariah Carey, but I've inherited my mom's love of singing to every song, every jingle that comes to my mind. I was in choir up until high school, and I remember being a relatively strong singer - even having the opportunity to sing backups at a SXSW show - but I never kept up with it. Hopefully, this will be a chance to rediscover my love of singing and share it with others who feel the same way about music.
So, things should be getting a little more interesting around here. Besides cooking, knitting, blogging and singing, I'll be working pretty soon, too. Next week, I'll start my first job in Paris at L'Oisive Thé, the tea salon owned by my friend Aimee. I'll only be working about 20-25 hours a week, but I'm really stoked about having a "day-job." The coolest thing about my new employment is that I'll be able to spend some of my days hanging out with Aimee - there's no doubt there will be lots of knit-talk and baking during the day, but I'm also banking on improving my French a bit. It couldn't come at a better time, either. I'm ready to have a regularly-scheduled gig to keep me occupied during the week, and spending it at a tea salon in the lovely Buttes aux Cailles just doesn't get any better, if you ask me.
My latest finished project - a striped beanie for Gui.
Making a home
Since arriving in Paris for the first time nearly a year ago, I've struggled with identifying myself as a resident rather than a tourist or visitor. For me, home has always been defined as a place where I can navigate myself around without challenge; someplace wherein lies a support system of people who I can turn to for just about anything - for comfort in times of crisis or to share a good laugh with.
My first few months in Paris were riddled with jet-lag, over-sleeping, meet-ups and parties with Gui's friends and family and occasional headaches from trying to communicate between languages. I rarely left the house without someone else in tow to show me where to go and how to get there, and the few times I did venture out on my own, it was only to familiar spots or after two hours of preparation and mapping on the internet. I guess I was living like a tourist then. Now, I'm noticing myself growing braver about finding my way around the city. I'm at the point where I'm confident enough to trek through town with an address and arrondissement in my head and capably find where I need to go. Perhaps my bravery comes from carrying my trusty Indispensible or my wireless connected phone that can search Google maps for me, but even so, my new home is starting to feel more familiar everyday.
And, I suppose it helps that recently I've had a lovely group of anglophone ladies enticing me with invites to fun places around town. It's unbelievable how much of an impact having friends can have on an etranger's life (well, at least on mine). To be surrounded by impossibly friendly folks who've often gone through (or are going through) similar circumstances as mine, who are looking for like-minded friends to enjoy this amazing city with, who miss the same things I miss, who still pull out their cameras to take a picture of the Eiffel Tower for the zillionth time, who aren't afraid of a little rhum-rhum (or beer, or vodka/orange) and who don't mind occasionally shelling out 20€ on a glass of champagne and a plate of macarons just to check out the latest fancy bar on the Champs-Elysées is, more than anything, what makes living in this great city so much more like being at home. I never imagined my life with friends here. I guess I always figured I'd live my life here, meeting French people from work or school but spending my free time with Guillaume and his friends. Envisioning a large group of intelligent, adorable and generous (English-speaking) women available for happy-hour, house parties, movies and lunching, was never even in my periphery. I feel like I've hit the jackpot in the friend department!
But, beyond my newfound social life, I'm still trying to get into a routine with my "professional" life. After mulling it over in my head and soliciting advice from my well-informed friends and my practical-minded husband, I've decided to put my career ambitions aside for these next few months while I focus on conquering the ever-frightening French language. I've been on a few interviews for really decent job positions, but each time my lacking French skills were what kept me from getting the offer (or so they told me, anyway - maybe they didn't like my shoes or haircut - I wouldn't blame them, I'm in serious need of both). And, when I eventually found myself applying for a really great job teaching business English, I felt a twinge of relief and excitement that I'd finally found something to challenge me, get me back to work and help me gain some experience. But, even though it would have ideally been a perfect solution to my unemployment problem, in the end, I decided that taking on 20 hours of French courses a week was enough to keep me busy without the added distraction of a challenging part-time job. I guess a lot of other factors weighed in there, too, but I know keeping French classes at the top of my priority list is the best route for me to take for now, and so I'm taking it.
Still, I'm managing to keep myself occupied these days as a volunteer for an English-speaking non-profit organization in Paris, and above all it's been a really great place to keep my normally sharpened computer skills from getting too rusty. I'm getting a good idea of what it would be like to work with French folks, too, and on more than one occasion I've found myself on the receiving end of a phone inquiry in French, in which case my limited skills are definitely being tested. I don't mind that. And, it makes me feel quite good when I can get a point across or at least tell the person to hang on long enough to fetch someone who can understand them.
Summer's come and gone (in a blink, it seems), and there are a lot of changes going on in Paris and in my little life. It's getting colder, streets are full of people, shops are donning knee-high boots, wool coats and chunky sweaters (yay!) and I'm starting to get a taste of what it's really like to make a life here. I'm finding my groove, setting up a routine, and making myself at home. And, it's actually rather nice.
My first few months in Paris were riddled with jet-lag, over-sleeping, meet-ups and parties with Gui's friends and family and occasional headaches from trying to communicate between languages. I rarely left the house without someone else in tow to show me where to go and how to get there, and the few times I did venture out on my own, it was only to familiar spots or after two hours of preparation and mapping on the internet. I guess I was living like a tourist then. Now, I'm noticing myself growing braver about finding my way around the city. I'm at the point where I'm confident enough to trek through town with an address and arrondissement in my head and capably find where I need to go. Perhaps my bravery comes from carrying my trusty Indispensible or my wireless connected phone that can search Google maps for me, but even so, my new home is starting to feel more familiar everyday.
And, I suppose it helps that recently I've had a lovely group of anglophone ladies enticing me with invites to fun places around town. It's unbelievable how much of an impact having friends can have on an etranger's life (well, at least on mine). To be surrounded by impossibly friendly folks who've often gone through (or are going through) similar circumstances as mine, who are looking for like-minded friends to enjoy this amazing city with, who miss the same things I miss, who still pull out their cameras to take a picture of the Eiffel Tower for the zillionth time, who aren't afraid of a little rhum-rhum (or beer, or vodka/orange) and who don't mind occasionally shelling out 20€ on a glass of champagne and a plate of macarons just to check out the latest fancy bar on the Champs-Elysées is, more than anything, what makes living in this great city so much more like being at home. I never imagined my life with friends here. I guess I always figured I'd live my life here, meeting French people from work or school but spending my free time with Guillaume and his friends. Envisioning a large group of intelligent, adorable and generous (English-speaking) women available for happy-hour, house parties, movies and lunching, was never even in my periphery. I feel like I've hit the jackpot in the friend department!
But, beyond my newfound social life, I'm still trying to get into a routine with my "professional" life. After mulling it over in my head and soliciting advice from my well-informed friends and my practical-minded husband, I've decided to put my career ambitions aside for these next few months while I focus on conquering the ever-frightening French language. I've been on a few interviews for really decent job positions, but each time my lacking French skills were what kept me from getting the offer (or so they told me, anyway - maybe they didn't like my shoes or haircut - I wouldn't blame them, I'm in serious need of both). And, when I eventually found myself applying for a really great job teaching business English, I felt a twinge of relief and excitement that I'd finally found something to challenge me, get me back to work and help me gain some experience. But, even though it would have ideally been a perfect solution to my unemployment problem, in the end, I decided that taking on 20 hours of French courses a week was enough to keep me busy without the added distraction of a challenging part-time job. I guess a lot of other factors weighed in there, too, but I know keeping French classes at the top of my priority list is the best route for me to take for now, and so I'm taking it.
Still, I'm managing to keep myself occupied these days as a volunteer for an English-speaking non-profit organization in Paris, and above all it's been a really great place to keep my normally sharpened computer skills from getting too rusty. I'm getting a good idea of what it would be like to work with French folks, too, and on more than one occasion I've found myself on the receiving end of a phone inquiry in French, in which case my limited skills are definitely being tested. I don't mind that. And, it makes me feel quite good when I can get a point across or at least tell the person to hang on long enough to fetch someone who can understand them.
Summer's come and gone (in a blink, it seems), and there are a lot of changes going on in Paris and in my little life. It's getting colder, streets are full of people, shops are donning knee-high boots, wool coats and chunky sweaters (yay!) and I'm starting to get a taste of what it's really like to make a life here. I'm finding my groove, setting up a routine, and making myself at home. And, it's actually rather nice.
First Interview
So, I've been sending my CV off for various job postings that I've found mostly on the lifesaving Fusac website and magazine. I'd say that I've applied to about five different places, and I've received three calls back, which isn't as bad as I expected. Despite the fact that the information about my basic French skills is clearly stated in English on my CV, the first two people who called me only spoke French and told me that I would need to have a good grasp of French for the job. I've been really upfront about my skills (or what I perceived as being upfront), but apparently that's of no consequence to some folks. Thankfully, I've been getting great advice from seasoned transplants who've gone through the ropes of job-searching and interviewing with French companies, and it's really been invaluable. Now, I know a little more about what's expected of me, what "basic French" means to prospective employers and how to handle myself a bit more on the phone. (Thanks Sam and Emily!)
There aren't many jobs around here that don't involve at least a good grasp of French, so my choices have been pretty limited. Even if a job posting says that the work will be done completely in English, it usually involves working with other francophones and having the ability to casually converse with others (which is the type of job I'm hoping to land). So, I was a little relieved and surprised when I received a call back from someone speaking perfect American English, requesting a phone interview with me. When I called back, I realized that the American voice was just a proxy to the real interviewer and I had the daunting task of speaking French for the first half of the phone interview. After a rough start, I was finally and thankfully asked to switch to English to be better understood (yikes!). Despite my acknowledged basic French skills, my prospective employer seemed to like me and asked me to come in to see her for a face-to-face interview.
My interview was scheduled for this afternoon, and knowing that I'd be interviewing in the 1ère arrondissement I was a little intimidated. Even though I spend my days in and around Paris, buying baguettes and drinking wine, I'm no vraie Parisenne and am always very conscious about my position as an outsider. The 1ère is the physical epicenter of Paris, the heart, the point from which the entire city radiates from. And, it's home to the Louvre, Palais Royal, the Ritz and Les Halles. It may not be the most popular or populated district in Paris, but to me it's where Paris begins. I had no idea what to expect, how to prepare and I was especially distraught with how to dress.
After raiding my shabby closet, I finally threw together a modest ensemble, slipped on a pair of the second-tallest heels I own, grabbed my passport and hit the cobblestone. I quickly realized why my heels had been tucked in a shoe box at the back of the closet since I brought them here in April. And now I know that only vraie Parisian women should wear heels higher than two inches when walking around the city.
I made it to my rendezvous with time to spare, but was quickly let into a first floor converted office. The woman who was to conduct the interview was apparently busier than she'd expected to be and kept me waiting a long time before seeing me. When we finally got to talking, I felt a little more comfortable about the job description and understood the basic daily operations of the business. Then, just when I thought the interview had come to an end, she asks me to do some on-the-spot writing samples for her. Writing? Ok, cool. I can do this - I write all the time, and I've written countless business letters on a multitude of topics, so I've got this. But, oh no. She wants me to write a mock business letter and then translate it into French. Even after I laughed, asked if she was serious and gave her a you-obviously-don't-understand-what-not-knowing-French-means look, she said she wanted to see a French translation. Fine. But, knowing that translating practically word for word is a big no-no, I did it anyway (seriously, I had no other option) and had my told-you-so face ready when she finished reading the first sentence, responing with pas de tout and what I swear was the phrase c'est nul under her breath.
But, apparently that wasn't enough to persuade her to end the interview because she then asked me for one more writing piece. This time, she wanted me to write her a letter, to tell her why I should be hired and what I can bring to the position (in English, thank goodness). In an attempt to redeem myself, I wrote a pretty decent cover-letter-type letter to her, which she read right in front of me. (Awkward.) I was worried that maybe I didn't mention enough specifics or provide enough information, but then she responded by saying that she was rather impressed that I was able to compose such a letter in a few moments. And then I breathed a sigh of relief and felt a little redemption. 'Guess those standardized writing tests in high school really paid off.
Two hours and three letters later, I walked out of the office still not knowing if I'd be offered the job, but feeling rather satisfied with my first French interview. I'm not putting much pressure on myself to find a job quickly, and I still have a few options, like continuing language classes full-time and doing volunteer work until I have the skill set I need to work in a French environment. But, I'm taking every opportunity seriously even if as nothing more than a learning experience. It feels really strange to have nearly 10 years of working experience yet feel like an entry-level candidate. There's a big part of me that's dying to get back to work and willing to take whatever I can get. But, I've still got a little pride to knock out of the way before I can feel comfortable starting at the bottom again. Right now, it seems my options are to take what I can get now and hope to advance my French skills while on the job, or dedicate my time to mastering the language until I'm comfortable to apply for a more agreeable bilingual job (which could take at least 6 months of full-time studies). I'm hoping the answer comes to me soon, but in the mean time I'll be preparing for more writing exams and 2-hour interviews.
There aren't many jobs around here that don't involve at least a good grasp of French, so my choices have been pretty limited. Even if a job posting says that the work will be done completely in English, it usually involves working with other francophones and having the ability to casually converse with others (which is the type of job I'm hoping to land). So, I was a little relieved and surprised when I received a call back from someone speaking perfect American English, requesting a phone interview with me. When I called back, I realized that the American voice was just a proxy to the real interviewer and I had the daunting task of speaking French for the first half of the phone interview. After a rough start, I was finally and thankfully asked to switch to English to be better understood (yikes!). Despite my acknowledged basic French skills, my prospective employer seemed to like me and asked me to come in to see her for a face-to-face interview.
My interview was scheduled for this afternoon, and knowing that I'd be interviewing in the 1ère arrondissement I was a little intimidated. Even though I spend my days in and around Paris, buying baguettes and drinking wine, I'm no vraie Parisenne and am always very conscious about my position as an outsider. The 1ère is the physical epicenter of Paris, the heart, the point from which the entire city radiates from. And, it's home to the Louvre, Palais Royal, the Ritz and Les Halles. It may not be the most popular or populated district in Paris, but to me it's where Paris begins. I had no idea what to expect, how to prepare and I was especially distraught with how to dress.
After raiding my shabby closet, I finally threw together a modest ensemble, slipped on a pair of the second-tallest heels I own, grabbed my passport and hit the cobblestone. I quickly realized why my heels had been tucked in a shoe box at the back of the closet since I brought them here in April. And now I know that only vraie Parisian women should wear heels higher than two inches when walking around the city.
I made it to my rendezvous with time to spare, but was quickly let into a first floor converted office. The woman who was to conduct the interview was apparently busier than she'd expected to be and kept me waiting a long time before seeing me. When we finally got to talking, I felt a little more comfortable about the job description and understood the basic daily operations of the business. Then, just when I thought the interview had come to an end, she asks me to do some on-the-spot writing samples for her. Writing? Ok, cool. I can do this - I write all the time, and I've written countless business letters on a multitude of topics, so I've got this. But, oh no. She wants me to write a mock business letter and then translate it into French. Even after I laughed, asked if she was serious and gave her a you-obviously-don't-understand-what-not-knowing-French-means look, she said she wanted to see a French translation. Fine. But, knowing that translating practically word for word is a big no-no, I did it anyway (seriously, I had no other option) and had my told-you-so face ready when she finished reading the first sentence, responing with pas de tout and what I swear was the phrase c'est nul under her breath.
But, apparently that wasn't enough to persuade her to end the interview because she then asked me for one more writing piece. This time, she wanted me to write her a letter, to tell her why I should be hired and what I can bring to the position (in English, thank goodness). In an attempt to redeem myself, I wrote a pretty decent cover-letter-type letter to her, which she read right in front of me. (Awkward.) I was worried that maybe I didn't mention enough specifics or provide enough information, but then she responded by saying that she was rather impressed that I was able to compose such a letter in a few moments. And then I breathed a sigh of relief and felt a little redemption. 'Guess those standardized writing tests in high school really paid off.
Two hours and three letters later, I walked out of the office still not knowing if I'd be offered the job, but feeling rather satisfied with my first French interview. I'm not putting much pressure on myself to find a job quickly, and I still have a few options, like continuing language classes full-time and doing volunteer work until I have the skill set I need to work in a French environment. But, I'm taking every opportunity seriously even if as nothing more than a learning experience. It feels really strange to have nearly 10 years of working experience yet feel like an entry-level candidate. There's a big part of me that's dying to get back to work and willing to take whatever I can get. But, I've still got a little pride to knock out of the way before I can feel comfortable starting at the bottom again. Right now, it seems my options are to take what I can get now and hope to advance my French skills while on the job, or dedicate my time to mastering the language until I'm comfortable to apply for a more agreeable bilingual job (which could take at least 6 months of full-time studies). I'm hoping the answer comes to me soon, but in the mean time I'll be preparing for more writing exams and 2-hour interviews.
Changing seasons
The days in Paris are changing. Darkness comes sooner and the sun less often these days, and everything from my eating and cooking habits to my wardrobe is slowly changing in preparation for the cooler Autumn weather. This has been my first summer in Paris, and although I've heard it hasn't been a particularly usual one, I found even the few days of heat were enough to make this Texas girl welcome these current changes with open arms.
It's really strange not to have a set schedule or routine everyday, but I somehow feel like I have things to do that fill up my day. Really, besides grocery shopping, cleaning and cooking (omg, I've really become a desperate housewife - someone save me!) my days are pretty much up to me to spend as I choose. Last week, I applied to a handful of jobs for English-speaking positions, but it's just a start. I also sent off an application for volunteer work, but shouldn't expect to hear anything until mid-September. It's still not the best time to be on the hunt for a job in Paris; people are just now returning to work from vacances as Summer comes to an end.
Thanks to my blog, I've been really glad to have made a few friends that have a little time on their hands, too. It's so great to know and talk to people who've gone through and are still going through all the same things I'm going through. Plus, it's always more fun to bounce around Paris on a rainy day indulging in Mexican food, free ice cream and witnessing the occasional apartment fire with others.
It's really strange not to have a set schedule or routine everyday, but I somehow feel like I have things to do that fill up my day. Really, besides grocery shopping, cleaning and cooking (omg, I've really become a desperate housewife - someone save me!) my days are pretty much up to me to spend as I choose. Last week, I applied to a handful of jobs for English-speaking positions, but it's just a start. I also sent off an application for volunteer work, but shouldn't expect to hear anything until mid-September. It's still not the best time to be on the hunt for a job in Paris; people are just now returning to work from vacances as Summer comes to an end.
Thanks to my blog, I've been really glad to have made a few friends that have a little time on their hands, too. It's so great to know and talk to people who've gone through and are still going through all the same things I'm going through. Plus, it's always more fun to bounce around Paris on a rainy day indulging in Mexican food, free ice cream and witnessing the occasional apartment fire with others.
Chicken burrito at El Sol y La Luna (too bad it wasn't related to the restaurant on S. Congress of the same name...migas, por favor)
A fire in the 6eme.
Emily seems to be enjoying the spectacle, but rest assured she's really just in awe at seeing her first apartment fire in Paris. We were all kinda weirded out.
Gelato in the rain with Sam & Emily. Thanks to Monsieur Lebovitz, we scored free gelato at this new gelateria. 
The nougat flavor (I think called toroncino or something) was TO DIE FOR.I'm really looking forward to what changes Fall and Winter will bring me. I'm excited about working here for the first time, meeting more great people and seeing some familiar faces in my neck of the woods. A dear friend of mine who I'd lost touch with over the years is planning to make her way over in the new year and I'm hoping by then my life will be sorted out a bit more, or at least aiming in some sort of direction. I know I've got to be patient and determined during my job search, so I've been taking it seriously without putting too much pressure on myself. I am, however, considering taking the advice of others who've been in my shoes and am keeping myself open to the idea of teaching English either as an assistant, private tutor or babysitter. There really are more opportunities for that type of work with my native-English skills, and working a part-time schedule will allow me to continue French classes, even give me time to volunteer. But as eager as I am to work, for now I'm not complaining about my free time that I know I'll miss when the reality of a true work day finally slaps me in the face.
No excuses!
Now (besides my lower than generally acceptable French skill level), I have no excuse for being jobless anymore. After a patience-testing wait at the prefecture late this afternoon, I was handed a half-sheet of paper that's proof of my application for residency, and that I will use as evidence of my right to work in France until my actual card arrives - hopefully within the next three months (we'll see how that goes). It's funny because we actually had an appointment with the same woman who set the appointment in the first place, whose awful people skills and overwhelming rudeness we both were blown away with last time. She seemed fifty times happier this time and even made a few jokes and got us in and out within 30 minutes of our appointment time. We think it had something to do with her imminent three-plus weeks of vacation.
We asked a few questions, most of which were answered with "we don't do that here," but the most important question was the one about my eligibility to work. At first, we were told that I couldn't work with just a récépissé (which is just a receipt that shows I've applied for the residency permit), but after inquiring a bit, she told us that, in fact, I could work with it and that my eligibility would be printed on the document. Man, I wonder if I'd have the same eligibility if we hadn't been brave enough to ask?
All in all, it went pretty smoothly. We only had to wait a couple of minutes after our appointment to be seen, and would you believe it if I told you (speaking to those of you who've gone through this before) that we actually had everything they required for the application EXCEPT a copy of the stamp indicating my entry into France with my visa? Would you also believe that that was the only thing not mentioned on the list of required documents to bring? Luckily, we caught our guichetiere on a good day and she was kind enough to make copies for us without much hassle.
Now, I'm just waiting to get the information for the infamous medical exam. If I'm lucky, I might just get my actual cds a few months before I have to reapply for the next one. Ah, the French.
I've never been so excited about being able to work; now, I'm off to do the impossible and find a job.
That last line says I can work! :)
We asked a few questions, most of which were answered with "we don't do that here," but the most important question was the one about my eligibility to work. At first, we were told that I couldn't work with just a récépissé (which is just a receipt that shows I've applied for the residency permit), but after inquiring a bit, she told us that, in fact, I could work with it and that my eligibility would be printed on the document. Man, I wonder if I'd have the same eligibility if we hadn't been brave enough to ask?
All in all, it went pretty smoothly. We only had to wait a couple of minutes after our appointment to be seen, and would you believe it if I told you (speaking to those of you who've gone through this before) that we actually had everything they required for the application EXCEPT a copy of the stamp indicating my entry into France with my visa? Would you also believe that that was the only thing not mentioned on the list of required documents to bring? Luckily, we caught our guichetiere on a good day and she was kind enough to make copies for us without much hassle.
Now, I'm just waiting to get the information for the infamous medical exam. If I'm lucky, I might just get my actual cds a few months before I have to reapply for the next one. Ah, the French.
I've never been so excited about being able to work; now, I'm off to do the impossible and find a job.
That last line says I can work! :)Trying to fall in love with French
This is my last week of French classes, for now at least. I was supposed to be finished last week, but I decided to enroll in another week to round it up to a four-week lesson. Reflecting on how much I've learned in four weeks, I really feel like I've come a long way. I've still got SO much further to go, but I'm more confident in a few of my skills, and I think I've increased the overall versatility of my speech. But, as I said before, I've got a long ways to go.
I still can't fully express myself in French - or even mostly express myself. I find I'm constantly asking how to say something or another in French and repeating the same words or phrases over and over. Many times, midway through a thought that I can't quite get across, I stop and decide to cut myself off for fear of saying the wrong thing or sounding stupid. I know it's all part of the learning process, but it's an exhausting feeling to be defeated each and every day by a language that makes no sense. I found some consolation today in class when a girl who has command of Portuguese, Spanish and English told me of her frustrations with learning the French language. Those seated next to us were also in agreement that the language is so complex and completely taxing. I mentioned that when I was living in Italy, I would find myself dreaming in Italian, thinking in Italian and feeling the language; conversely, it's never been like that for me with French. Sure, I studied Italian for a few semesters, but I never practiced, never listened to Italian radio or watched Italian TV on a daily basis, and I don't ever remember thinking of it as such a laborious subject. What I do recall is feeling like I was meant to speak the language, like it was somewhere in me all along, just waiting to be brought to life. I don't have that same feeling with French.
After class today, I found myself dreaming about moving away from France to Italy or Spain. I don't think that's something Gui and I would ever really do without a really good reason, but it was nice to think of how much easier life might be if I could live in a foreign country and be able to speak the language with comfort and confidence, working and enjoying my life as an "insider" rather than someone trying to figure it out. Then, I could really start my life there - do real work instead of going to school to learn how to read and write and talk; I could do so many things that I dream of doing here, like volunteering and taking music lessons, but instead I find there's always that black cloud of non-fluency looming over, reminding me of my below-par skill set.
I really hope (and plan) to one day master the language enough to get a job and converse freely with friends and family, but I don't imagine that will be anytime soon. A week from Friday, we have my carte de sejour meeting at the prefecture where I believe they'll assess my skill level (or send me somewhere to do that) to determine if language classes will be needed and if so, how much. It's part of this new integration contract they're implementing throughout France. I'm all for getting 200-400 hours of free language classes, and I want nothing more than to find my passion for French like I found for Italian. Yet, some part of me still yearns for the easy way, for a way to bypass months ( if not years) of language classes just to get to the point that I was at eight months ago (geesh! I've been jobless for eight months, who in the world is going to hire me?!). Sometimes I feel like I'm going backwards or not going at all, and it worries me to ponder where my professional life and personal ambitions will be in a year. All I hope is that I'm not still sitting in a class with the same folks trying to figure out how to politely say, "may I please have a baguette and a chocolate eclair?"
I still can't fully express myself in French - or even mostly express myself. I find I'm constantly asking how to say something or another in French and repeating the same words or phrases over and over. Many times, midway through a thought that I can't quite get across, I stop and decide to cut myself off for fear of saying the wrong thing or sounding stupid. I know it's all part of the learning process, but it's an exhausting feeling to be defeated each and every day by a language that makes no sense. I found some consolation today in class when a girl who has command of Portuguese, Spanish and English told me of her frustrations with learning the French language. Those seated next to us were also in agreement that the language is so complex and completely taxing. I mentioned that when I was living in Italy, I would find myself dreaming in Italian, thinking in Italian and feeling the language; conversely, it's never been like that for me with French. Sure, I studied Italian for a few semesters, but I never practiced, never listened to Italian radio or watched Italian TV on a daily basis, and I don't ever remember thinking of it as such a laborious subject. What I do recall is feeling like I was meant to speak the language, like it was somewhere in me all along, just waiting to be brought to life. I don't have that same feeling with French.
After class today, I found myself dreaming about moving away from France to Italy or Spain. I don't think that's something Gui and I would ever really do without a really good reason, but it was nice to think of how much easier life might be if I could live in a foreign country and be able to speak the language with comfort and confidence, working and enjoying my life as an "insider" rather than someone trying to figure it out. Then, I could really start my life there - do real work instead of going to school to learn how to read and write and talk; I could do so many things that I dream of doing here, like volunteering and taking music lessons, but instead I find there's always that black cloud of non-fluency looming over, reminding me of my below-par skill set.
I really hope (and plan) to one day master the language enough to get a job and converse freely with friends and family, but I don't imagine that will be anytime soon. A week from Friday, we have my carte de sejour meeting at the prefecture where I believe they'll assess my skill level (or send me somewhere to do that) to determine if language classes will be needed and if so, how much. It's part of this new integration contract they're implementing throughout France. I'm all for getting 200-400 hours of free language classes, and I want nothing more than to find my passion for French like I found for Italian. Yet, some part of me still yearns for the easy way, for a way to bypass months ( if not years) of language classes just to get to the point that I was at eight months ago (geesh! I've been jobless for eight months, who in the world is going to hire me?!). Sometimes I feel like I'm going backwards or not going at all, and it worries me to ponder where my professional life and personal ambitions will be in a year. All I hope is that I'm not still sitting in a class with the same folks trying to figure out how to politely say, "may I please have a baguette and a chocolate eclair?"
And so it begins
I've been reading for months now fellow expatriates' experiences with the infamous carte de sejour that in my particular situation is required to hold if my intention is to reside in France - which is the case! I've heard everything from horror stories to fairy tales from others' experiences dealing with French prefectures. I'm still not completely sure what to expect when Gui and I make our first appearance at the local prefecture in Boulogne (where we will, presumably, be residing). Actually, the whole apartment thing is proving to be very important for the carte de sejour - we have to show proof of our residency within the bounds of the prefecture, as well as an unceasing communauté de vie (community of life...or sharing a residence), presumably in our own place with both of our names on a mortgage or lease. So, I can't actually start the process until we've signed for a place, which puts a little more pressure on our apartment-hunting process.
What I've gathered about the carte de sejour (cds) so far, is this:
#1, I will need to make an ungodly amount of copies of everything I have with my name on it, with Gui's name on it, and that proves in any way my existence as his foreign-born wife (translated if need be)
#2, I shouldn't expect to have copies or originals of everything I need on my first visit (from what I've heard, I think it would be setting some sort of French record if I could get it all done in one go)
#3, I will have to submit to a medical exam that consists of taking off my top, squishing my boobs against an x-ray machine and answering questions about my smoking habits
#4, I willbe asked politely if I'd like to have to sign a contract that indicates my willingness to receive French values and integrate within its society. This contract will require my presence at two day-long classes, one on French history, one on French culture, and will also test my French speaking abilities in order to prescribe the appropriate number of language course hours they will offer me for free. As cool as free sounds to me, I'm pretty sure my lowly skills will get me stuck in a 400-hour program (that's the maximum) that will mandate a 35-hour week of learning French for 12 weeks. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd love to do just that - all my life, in fact - but I need to make some money, yo. I'm ready to get back to work. Even though I read somewhere (actually somewheres since I saw it on two people's blogs) that the French government will compensate you for your time if you have to take classes on a full-time basis. Problem is, I haven't read this on any official website and I haven't worked since November of 2007 (a disbelief even I struggle to fathom)!! Why would they compensate a (now, technically) housewife-ish foreigner like me?
And finally, #5, I should expect for this entire process to take anywhere from 4 months to a year (which is a little comical since the first cds is pretty much always issued for only a year's time...or so I hear). And get this, you have to apply for a renewal cds two months prior to the expiration of your original cds. Oh, the Frenchness of it all. Who says the French system is a bureaucratic nightmare? Hogwash.
This all brings me to another topic that I'm still struggling to sort out about my move to France. I'm still stuck about what to do when I finally get there. I'm still waiting for a reply from a school I applied to long ago, which in my mind indicates a negative response to my application for admission to their master's program in Paris. I'm going to give them a call on Monday, fo' sho' though. I seriously think I should pursue a year-long master's degree at this point, but my bank account and bills are begging me to get back to work.
Can I really make someone else pay my bills? That's yet to be seriously asked or answered, so I'll wait until that time comes (if ever). But, I'm finding the whole dependency thing is not really for me. I think my my ego is too big, my mind too enthusiastic and my eyes too coveting to not be making and spending my own money. I'm still at a selfish point in my life, where I want to satisfy my wants and pursue my goals at whatever cost it takes (this is likely why I haven't yet joined my more mature friends who are impregnating themselves by the droves). So, there lies my predicament - stay jobless another year to get a master's while my husband pays my bills OR find a jobby-job asap and get back to acting like a real adult. It'll be interesting to see how this one turns out. No doubt I'll be letting you know.
What I've gathered about the carte de sejour (cds) so far, is this:
#1, I will need to make an ungodly amount of copies of everything I have with my name on it, with Gui's name on it, and that proves in any way my existence as his foreign-born wife (translated if need be)
#2, I shouldn't expect to have copies or originals of everything I need on my first visit (from what I've heard, I think it would be setting some sort of French record if I could get it all done in one go)
#3, I will have to submit to a medical exam that consists of taking off my top, squishing my boobs against an x-ray machine and answering questions about my smoking habits
#4, I will
And finally, #5, I should expect for this entire process to take anywhere from 4 months to a year (which is a little comical since the first cds is pretty much always issued for only a year's time...or so I hear). And get this, you have to apply for a renewal cds two months prior to the expiration of your original cds. Oh, the Frenchness of it all. Who says the French system is a bureaucratic nightmare? Hogwash.
This all brings me to another topic that I'm still struggling to sort out about my move to France. I'm still stuck about what to do when I finally get there. I'm still waiting for a reply from a school I applied to long ago, which in my mind indicates a negative response to my application for admission to their master's program in Paris. I'm going to give them a call on Monday, fo' sho' though. I seriously think I should pursue a year-long master's degree at this point, but my bank account and bills are begging me to get back to work.
Can I really make someone else pay my bills? That's yet to be seriously asked or answered, so I'll wait until that time comes (if ever). But, I'm finding the whole dependency thing is not really for me. I think my my ego is too big, my mind too enthusiastic and my eyes too coveting to not be making and spending my own money. I'm still at a selfish point in my life, where I want to satisfy my wants and pursue my goals at whatever cost it takes (this is likely why I haven't yet joined my more mature friends who are impregnating themselves by the droves). So, there lies my predicament - stay jobless another year to get a master's while my husband pays my bills OR find a jobby-job asap and get back to acting like a real adult. It'll be interesting to see how this one turns out. No doubt I'll be letting you know.
Lame update
I'm not in Dallas anymore.
I'm temporarily working at my old job in Austin.
I'm spending quality time with most of the people I love.
I've become quite the gypsy.
I can't wait for Thanksgiving to see my nephews, sis and Georgia peaches.
I'm not going to London after all (for now).
I'm moving to Paris at the end of November.
How's that for an update? :)
More soon...
I'm temporarily working at my old job in Austin.
I'm spending quality time with most of the people I love.
I've become quite the gypsy.
I can't wait for Thanksgiving to see my nephews, sis and Georgia peaches.
I'm not going to London after all (for now).
I'm moving to Paris at the end of November.
How's that for an update? :)
More soon...
Valley Girl
I've recently discovered the true meaning of a "valley girl" since I started working in the valley last week. There are quite a few differences between the valley, the OC and LA. I haven't yet figured them all out, but I've noticed a few. The biggest difference to me, though, isn't necessarily the people so much as the weather! I need to get my A/C serviced, so I've been rolling down the windows lately, and just as I make my way from the 101 in the Valley to the 405 heading toward LA, the temperature drops about 10-15 degrees around one curve! And, just as I leave the 405 toward Long Beach, another burst of cooler air hits and the temps have gone down 20 degrees from the time I left work to the time I get home! It really is crazy to experience. As pretty as all those mountains are in the valley, I'm much happier being near sand and ocean, profitting from the cooler temps.
Dangerous working conditions
So, this week I was able to see for the first time where I'd been training to work for these past few months. Although the store's not quite ready yet (and it's going to be SO awesome when it's ready), I've determined that the mall we're in is absolutely a dangerous place for me to be working in. It's home to 2 of my favorite places (besides the store I work for), Pinkberry & Target...yes, TARGET inside the mall! Not to mention, the foodcourt at this place is incredible; they've got Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, French, Greek, a NY deli, a gourmet sandwich shop, burgers, and any kind of food you could want to have for your 1-hour lunch break, not to mention a creperie and gelateria for dessert. I was stoked when I realized how close we were to the Starbucks, but little did I know I'd have far more temptations to fight around the mall. They have an entire section dedicated to cosmetics...Sephora, Bare Escentuals, MAC...and shoe-stores galore! But, it's going to be only window shopping for me for now, at least until my commute to work stops costing me $140 in gas every week! Gotta love the California cost-of-living....boooo!
Good stuff...
Today was a success! The meeting for work was informative and overall enlightening for the best job in the world (that I have). And, most importantly, the San Antonio Spurs are the NBA Champs once again...YEEHAW!! I am so happy to be a Texan right now and I sure plan to boast about that tomorrow at work! : )
That's all I have to say about that.
That's all I have to say about that.
Under the weather
Around 10 this morning, during the midst of my daily work routines, I started feeling really weak, lightheaded and achy. The rest of the day was a struggle, but I made it through and came home to a long nap. I just woke up to find my honey cleaning the dishes and snacking for dinner. He brought me some water while I was napping, so I can stay hydrated, but a long nap definitely helped tremendously! Tomorrow, I'm going to Beverly Hills for a meeting, so I hope I'm feeling back to myself by then! I just can't wait for my insurance to kick in...I'm in desperate need of new contacts and glasses, not to mention how helpful it'll be to have a primary doctor for days like this!
Under the weather
So, yesterday afternoon I started feeling a little tickle in my throat. I know what this means, and it's been happening in my life more often as I've gotten older than when I was a kid. Yep, I'm coming down with something. I don't know what's up with me. A few months ago ... like January ... I had a hacking and un-relenting cough that lasted well over 3 weeks. And, in November when I went to visit Guillaume, I had the same kind of sore throat I'm having now. I still have some meds from those past 2 times being sick, so hopefully I'm on my way to recovery. The last thing I want is to be sick when there's good weather to enjoy. Not to mention, I'm really enjoying my job at the moment, too. I never knew I could work a full 8 hours (sans internet and email) and be happy with my job!! Definitely feeling lucky about that.
Anyway, I'm feeling a little feverish and trying to keep my mind off my sore throat and achy pains, hoping it will subside by the morning and I'll be as good as new. I'm taking off 2 weekdays next week for my bday and to spend as much time with Irisa while she's here visiting, so I'm not about to take another day and jeopardize that. Oh, and speaking of Irisa, we've got standby tix to see the Ellen Show on my birthday, and if I know us persistent girls, we'll be there cheering her on while she's dancing around the audience!! We're planning to get there as early as possible to queue up for a prime place in the standby line, because I hear most early standby-ers usually get through. It's sure to be a memorable Hollywood birthday - Ellen in the afternoon, Jimmy Kimmel in the evening and Beauty Bar in West Hollywood (also know to locals as WeHo) to finish off the night.
Oh, and one more thing I'll mention in this entry while I'm here...today a guy with a Texas cap came in with his girlfriend and we chatted a bit about Austin and moving to Cali and where we went to high school, etc. It was very cool and my first encounter with a Texan...and fellow alumnus here in Cali. I was totally stoked even though I know there are tons of us Texans around these parts.
Anyway, I'm feeling a little feverish and trying to keep my mind off my sore throat and achy pains, hoping it will subside by the morning and I'll be as good as new. I'm taking off 2 weekdays next week for my bday and to spend as much time with Irisa while she's here visiting, so I'm not about to take another day and jeopardize that. Oh, and speaking of Irisa, we've got standby tix to see the Ellen Show on my birthday, and if I know us persistent girls, we'll be there cheering her on while she's dancing around the audience!! We're planning to get there as early as possible to queue up for a prime place in the standby line, because I hear most early standby-ers usually get through. It's sure to be a memorable Hollywood birthday - Ellen in the afternoon, Jimmy Kimmel in the evening and Beauty Bar in West Hollywood (also know to locals as WeHo) to finish off the night.
Oh, and one more thing I'll mention in this entry while I'm here...today a guy with a Texas cap came in with his girlfriend and we chatted a bit about Austin and moving to Cali and where we went to high school, etc. It was very cool and my first encounter with a Texan...and fellow alumnus here in Cali. I was totally stoked even though I know there are tons of us Texans around these parts.
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