Giving Thanks in Paris

I learned this week (from a New York Times op-ed) that the first religious pilgrims to settle in the New World were actually French, not English. (According to the article, the French Calvinists arrived in Florida about 50 years sooner than the Pligrims landed at Plymouth.)

Whether we were remembering the English or the French settlers, we of course celebrated Thanksgiving. Nick and Monica hosted about 20 of us for dinner, after everyone's classes were over for the day.

I brought a green bean casserole to contribute (most people brought a dish), after finally tracking down the ingredients at an American grocery store in Paris, called The Real McCoy. I was completely blown away as I walked in -- it'd been a long time since I'd seen so much junk food in one place! :) Most items are kept behind the counter, so you have to ask a clerk to take down the things on your list. (I half-suspect that this is done to delay the sticker-shock, as the markups are absolutely atrocious. Sometimes, though, the prices are worth it: you really can't have a green-bean casserole without a can of fried onions!)


Last night, we finally made our first visit to the Louvre since we've been in Paris. We were there specifically to hear one of Matt's friends -- an Art History student -- present a painting. She and her classmates had selected favorite works of art currenly displayed in the museum, and were offering late-night gallery talks to help people understand and appreciate the works. After we heard Gaby's presentation, we spent time exploring other parts of the museum. We left the museum after 10 p.m., then wandered home on a beautiful, cold Paris evening.

The Inevitable Post About Amazing French Healthcare

I suppose everyone knew this subject would crop up sometime on the blog: so far, the French health care system seems utterly fantastic.

Matt and I were each required, as part of our residence permit applications, to join the national health plan -- at an annual premium of less than 200 euros. For that, we qualify for 100% reimbursement of doctor's visit costs and most prescriptions (like in the US, certain brand-name drugs aren't fully covered).

We have been completely amazed by the difference from the experiences we've had in the US. In the first place, it's easier to get an appointment: Matt called on a Wednesday to schedule his physical -- and got an appointment on Friday afternoon! And even more important, the visits simply feel less rushed and more patient-centered.

When I had an appointment, I was welcomed into a waiting room furnished with beautiful oriental rugs and velvet-covered furniture (and all the magazines were current!). The doctor called me into her office after less than ten minutes, but still apologized profusely for the "exceptionally long" wait. We went into her even-more-beautifully-decorated office, where she took my history and vital signs herself. After she had collected all the basic information, she took me into a small examining room and covered the table with an actual cloth sheet (instead of that roll of crinkly paper). The physical exam took less than five minutes, and we returned to the doctor's office to finish up the visit. The doctor herself made the necessary notes in my chart, answered all my questions, and then handed over the bill -- which came to less than 70 euros, including lab fees. As soon as I mail a copy of the receipt to the insurance company, I'll be reimbursed (within two weeks) by direct deposit into my bank account -- so much simpler than in the US.


Today, Matt and I attended a "baby party" for our friends Nick and Monica, whose first baby will be born next month. (Nick is my classmate both here and back home -- we were in the same 1L section. Monica, his wife, is finishing her dissertation here in Paris.) We all chipped in for a couple of small gifts (they're trying not to accumulate too much stuff, since it all has to be shipped home in a few months).

About 15 of my classmates were there, as well as a dog named Kiwi. As you might have heard, Paris is pretty dog-friendly: they're welcome in nearly all restaurants and most grocery stores. But they are never welcome in parks: Parisians are terrible about cleaning up after their animals (even after several years' strict enforcement of the 'poop-scoop' laws) and green space is at a premium. Violate the rule, and you can expect a quick ticket!

We're looking forward to this holiday week, as we're gathering with a big group at Nick and Monica's house for a potluck Thanksgiving dinner (after we finish our regular day of classes, of course). We miss everyone, and hope you have a safe trip (if you're travelling) and a wonderful celebration.

A Quiet Weekend at Home

We had originally intended to go back to Versailles yesterday, to tour the Palace and the Stables (last time we were there, we spent all our time wandering through the truly enormous gardens). After a series of minor, schedule-delaying events, we ultimately scrapped our plans and just spent a quiet day around our neighborhood.

That evening, we went for dinner at a restaurant that's become one of our favorites, just because it makes us laugh: Buffalo Grill. Any guilt we might have felt about avoiding the more "French" choices is assuaged by the fact that we have an absolutely fantastic time whenever we're there, laughing at the music (what was being played on country radio two years ago) and decor (every "Western-theme" stereotype you can think of) while enjoying the view (over one of Paris' better-known plazas, Republique) and the food (the steaks, burgers, and ribs are all pretty credible).

Today was a really lovely fall day in Paris -- the near-constant drizzle broke, it was only pleasantly cool, and there was just enough of a breeze to twirl the falling leaves prettily in the air.

We started our day by attending church at the American Church in Paris, as we've been doing for the past several weeks. ACP is an interdenominational Christian fellowship, with a mainly-but-not-exclusively Anglophone congregation. By sticking around for the coffee hour after the service, we're starting to recognize some faces and develop a few friendships. We're also trying to take an active role in some of the church activities -- I'm joining the knitting circle, and we're both going to help with bake for next week's Christmas bazaar. (I can't believe the holidays -- and exams! -- are coming so quickly!)

After church, we wandered down to another Paris institution: the Shakespeare & Co. bookshop. The shop was opened in 1951 by George Whitman, an American serviceman who stayed in France after World War II was concluded. The tiny and perpetually-crowded ground floor is filled with an amazing collection of used and new English-language books. Upstairs, you can find the shopowner's original collection of books from 1951: not for sale, but free for you to sit and peruse for as long as you like. Nestled among the shelves and stacks of books are a few beds: apparently, young writers are invited to come to Paris and exchange part-time work in the bookshop for a free place to stay. We came home with several more books to fill our "spare" time (read: the last few minutes before sleeping), each of them proudly bearing a Shakespeare & Co. stamp on the title page.

A Visit to History

Yesterday marked 90 years since World War I was ended by the signing of an armistice treaty near the town of Compiegne, France. By train, it's less than an hour from Paris -- so, last Saturday, Matt and I decided to check it out.

We planned our trip based on a recent article in the New York Times' Travel section; unfortunately, the article turned out to have been rather misleading about the distances between "things to see." Even so, we were able to see not only the Armistice Clearing, but also the Chateau de Compiegne.

The Chateau, which is located in the middle of town, is more like a large palace than a true "castle." We were the only two people with tickets for the 'public tour', so we ended up with an extended private visit to the apartments of the King and Queen. (The Chateau doesn't allow photographs, so I've used a few from their website. If you'd like to see more, the link is http://www.musee-chateau-compiegne.fr/.)

One of our favorite rooms was the Emperor's Library, displayed as it would have been furnished for Napoleon. Napoleon kept himself incredibly busy and did not like to waste time -- so, he ordered that the libraries in each of the palaces he frequented be arranged in the same way, so that he did not lose time looking for the particular book he wanted.

Our guide told us that Napoleon was so obsessed with using time efficiently that he would not even attend the dinner parties he hosted -- instead, he'd wait until everyone was seated and the main course was being served, then walk to the dining room, fill his plate and make a few minutes' conversation with the guests, and then return to his desk to have a working dinner. We also saw his bathtub, custom-fitted with a desk surface: although Napoleon's excema was treated with four daily soaks, he found a way to make even his bathtime productive!


During Napoleon's reign, this room was used as a grand ballroom. During the Second Empire (under Napoleon III), the room was converted into a massive dining room capable of seating 100 dinner guests at a single table. (Napoleon III and his wife Eugenie hosted massive, week-long festivals for notable French citizens.) The room was converted into a hospital for injured civilians during the First World War. (Other rooms served wounded soldiers.)

One incredibly large room was furnished with wall-hung tapestries which depicted notable hunts in the forest of Compiegne. I was completely blown away by one in particular, which included the unmistakable image of an Appaloosa horse. Appaloosas (the breed of horse I grew up with) have incredibly distinct physical characteristics, in their faces, bodies, feet, and tail -- the tapestry depicted every one. The reason I was surprised to see an "App" represented in a European tapestry is because they were developed by the Nez Pierce tribe in what is now Idaho. The guide and I had a long conversation about this, and decided that the French army must have purchased/stolen some Appaloosas while in control of the Louisiana Territory, then taken the horses back to France. (The Appaloosa is popular in France today, and probably has better esteem among French horsemen than Americans!)

After spending a few hours in the Chateau, we took a taxi out to the Armistice Clearing and museum.

At the end of World War I, Mashall Foch directed the train service to find a secluded place where two trains (one for the French negotiators, another for the Germans) could be brought together and the peace negotiated. A site less than five miles from Compiegne was selected, where the German and French trains could be arranged less than 100 feet apart. Today, concrete monuments mark the precise locations of the French and German trains during the negotiations.

A museum was constructed a few hundred feet away to preserve Marshall Foch's carriage. Twenty years later, in preparation for negotiating the French surrender, Hitler directed that the museum be destroyed and the carriage brought back to the precise place where it had stood during the World War I negotiations. The carriage was taken to Berlin for public display, but was destroyed before the end of World War II.Today, the museum has been rebuilt and Marshall Foch's carriage has been precisely reconstructed.

Compiegne is also the place where Joan of Arc was captured in 1430 as she led a battlefield retreat. A statue of her stands across from city hall.

With apologies for the delay..

It has been an embarassingly long time since we've posted an update -- so, this will likely be an overlong attempt to catch you up on things that've been happening over the last few weeks.

The election, of course!

I'm embarassed to admit that Matt and I slept through the election the whole world watched! I got up to see Dixville Notch cast their first-in-the-nation ballots (Humprey was the last Democrat to win there!), and we watched CNN International work over the first exit polls as we ate dinner. Since the first polling stations wouldn't close until 1:00 AM our time, and we both had class early Wednesday morning, we decided to get a good night's sleep and leave the results until morning. (Trying to fall asleep that night reminded me of what it felt like on Christmas Eve as a little girl!)

We, of course, had long-since cast our ballots. I actually got to vote twice -- completely legally! Although we mailed our absentee ballot requests on the same day, Matt received his ballot more than two weeks before I got mine. The Embassy advised that anyone who had not received a ballot by October 20 should complete a Federal Write-In Absentee Ballot, which allows you to indicate a preference for the presidential, US Senate, and US House races. If/when your absentee ballot arrives, you're supposed to complete and return it just as normal. The idea is that the election officals keep any FWABs unopened until November 4: if the regular ballot is returned, then the FWAB is discarded and only the regular ballot is counted. (This being DC, who knows how well the process worked...but at least it wasn't a swing state! In fact, the only competitive race on my ballot was a neighborhood council seat.)

As you may have heard, the idea of "President-Elect Obama" is very popular over here. Newspapers and magazines are carrying headlines like "Obama: What the World Was Waiting For" and "For those who doubted America, the election was the best response!" (I do have the impression, though, that this isn't so much a pro-Obama sentiment as it is an anti-Bush/McCain attitude.)

The holidays are upon us

Those who have never spent the early fall outside the US may not appreciate the strategic value of Thanksgiving: holding back Christmas! On November 1, the Halloween items came down and the Christmas displays went up all over town. Some of the shop windows are absolutely gorgeous; my favorite, though, are the Christmas trees at Bon Marché (a big department store) -- there are six totally different trees, each one supposed to be an inspiration for what your own tree could look like (all you have to do is invest heavily in their fine array of decorations, of course!).

A trip to Versailles

Matt and I took a quick afternoon in Versailles at the end of October. We happened, though a fortunate accident-of-planning, to be there for "Les Grands Eaux Musicales", an occasional performance of classical music projected throughout the gardens. We arrived early enough that the fountains hadn't been turned on, so we enjoyed a leiurely stroll through the autumn leaves. (I had actually never jumped into a raked-up pile of leaves before, but finally got my first chance!) The gardens are still meticulously maintained, and we had a wonderful time watching the water and listening to the music.

Still exploring Paris

As the days get shorter, we've taken to exploring the 'indoor' attractions of Paris a little more than the grand monuments. Most recently, we found what has to be the best hot chocolate in Paris. I often steer clear of places that all the guidebooks recommend (I usually think they're too crowded to be enjoyable), but Angelina's turns out to be worth the wait! The hot chocolate tastes like a delicious chocolate bar was melted down and cream was stirred in -- it's so rich that you really can't have more than just one cup!

Along with a small group of friends, we're starting to make ritual of having tea every Thursday at the Mosque of Paris. The tea is wonderfully minty and sweet, and the tearoom is beautifully decorated: I'll do my best to remember my camera this week!

Uncomfortably French

As Matt mentioned in the last post, we're both shaking off the remnants of whatever it is that we caught. One of the less-fun parts of expatriating is that we can probably expect to catch every bug that goes around town, simply because it's completely unrelated to anything our immune systems have seen before.

Sometimes over the few weeks, I've been surprised at how the small things often make me feel the most foreign. Last week, it was the discovery that virtually every medication the pharmacist suggested was in an effervescent form. At home, I would have just swallowed a pill or two. I had the same trouble when I ran out of multivitamins -- almost everything I found was in a powdered form, meant to be taken in a glass of water. When I finally tracked down a capsule form, the checkout woman was so surprised that she asked if I knew what I was buying -- after all, "most people find it easier to take the powder." We've made lots of small changes to the way we might do things at home (e.g., transforming my grandmother's chicken noodle soup recipe into one for duck noodle soup, to save more than 50% on the meat!) but I somehow can't get used to the idea of dissolving and drinking my vitamins each morning.

Foreign or no, I am now a legal resident of France for the year -- I had my official medical appointment this morning, and received my carte de sejour. The process wasn't too tedious -- I arrived at 8:45 and was done by 10:15. Like all things French and govermental, though, it was thoroughly bureaucratic -- I was seen by three different medical technicians. The first checked my height, weight, and corrected vision, then sent me back to the waiting room. Then, I was sent for the chest x-ray (testing for tuberculosis): I was ushered into a small changing room, told to remove everything from the waist up, and left to wait until the technicians were ready for me. (There were actually three changing rooms, which each had one door to the hallway and one door into the radiography suite -- I presume that the techs could just go from one to the next, taking one film after another.) After spending yet more time in the waiting room, I met with a doctor who read my x-ray, listened to my lungs and heart, took my blood pressure, and asked me if I had any communicable diseases. Then, she signed and stamped a form certifying that I was adequately healthy to be admitted into the country.

The last step in acquiring my carte was to submit that health certification and 55 euro tax (payable only by stamp, which may only be purchased at convenience stores -- seriously). And after all that, I received a 3"x5" laminated card which documents my right to reside in France for the year.

An uneventful week

This past week and a half I have had the flu, and Jess as well, although hers was a lighter case. Since not much has happened, I thought I would talk about the metro system here in Paris.

Classes have been going well so far. Much too early for my taste, especially with the metro ride to get to school in the morning. Tomorrow there might be a transit strike, so even earlier to rise, wahoo.

Getting to school usually involves getting up at seven, getting ready and then hoping on the metro. The Paris metro has some charms. There are long walkways reminiscent of those that can be found in the London Underground. Paneled with white ceramic bricks, the underground labyrinth with so many people marching somewhere reminds me much more of New York’s system than that of DC. But unlike New York’s, the metro here is clean. That cleanliness is not accomplished at the expense of an overbearing security force that arrests pregnant women for finishing a granola bar like in DC; there are even vending machines in some stations here. The only issue I have with the metro here on the cleanliness front is that there is one stretch of tunnel at the Remeau-Sebastopol station (where I change trains) that smells of stale urine. I guess one of the denizens of that station can’t be bothered to go outside and find facilities.

But despite the homeless in the metro (there are actually far fewer homeless in Paris than in DC), there have not been the kind of ‘crazy’ encounters here as back home. One of the more memorable anecdotes so far happened on an evening when Jess and I were going to some event with Jess’ school friends. There was this guy that I was out of the corner of my eye putting what looked like a nylon stocking on his head. I of course thought that something bad was about to happen. I haven’t seen people become physically aggressive on the metro before, but the guy singing about how he wanted to shoot everyone who worked for the government came close. But, I digress, this guy actually turned out to be even less harmful than the enthusiastic young LaRoushies we ran across in DC. He was actually performing a scene from a play by Moliere – the white nylon beanie was a part of his costume. He wasn’t even fishing for money, just wanted to put on a performance and encourage us to buy tickets to the full-length show; I don’t quite think we are in DC anymore.

The trains themselves are a nice ride, they actually run on what appear to be rubber tires; at least some of them do, which is odd in its own right. The cars are oddly proportioned. There are seating sections in between the, let’s call them foyers. These foyers in front of the doors have seats that can fold down if there is room, but more often than not, there is no such room, so everyone stands packed into this small area in front of the door desperately trying to grasp one of the two poles available to be held onto. The idea of overhead rails like those found on the cars in DC or New York has not caught on as of yet. Conversely, the seating sections I mentioned earlier only have the seated passengers and so are quite roomy even when the rest of the train is cramped well beyond comfort. There is just not enough room to stand between the seats nor anything to grab onto; in an odd layout.

But in the end, everything else is perhaps compensated for by a metro stop that we rarely ever pass. There is a stop near the Louvre that has a small collection of some artifacts drawn from that museum’s collection. This is not a completely innovative idea, but still one of the most charmingly mundane aspects of this city that we both find ourselves taking for granted, but occasionally amazed by nonetheless.

La Rentrée

Last week, our summer vacation ended and it was back to school. We celebrated with a group of my classmates by gathering to watch the sun set and the lights of Paris come up. Turns out, the Eiffel Tower sparkles for the first few minutes it's illuminated. (The Tower is bathed in blue lights and decorated with gold stars to celebrate the French presidency of the EU -- it's currently their turn in the six-month rotation.)


The next day, we headed down to check out the pet market. We'd first discovered it two weekends ago, when we happened to wander past just before they finished packing everything away. This time, we enjoyed checking out all the small pets being offered for sale -- many, many beautiful birds (everything from finches to fully-communicative parrots); hamsters; guinea pigs; chinchillas; and even chipmunks. Our informal assessment is that chipmunks don't take well to caged life -- they were incredibly edgy, and (apparently) trying to work off the nervous energy by sprinting loop-the-loops around their cages.

We also picked up a few new toys for the cats, who have made themselves completely at home in the new apartment by losing every one of their toys. Since we've been slower than they at discovering all the best hiding places, the easiest thing to do (read: "thing that prevented yowls of boredom at 3:00 AM") was to replace a few of them.



After the weekend's fun, we put our noses back to the grindstone:

Matt is in class every day from 9:00 until 12:00, and Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from 2:00 until 5. He's in a beginning French class, but it's moving at a much faster pace than any class I ever had: they had their first unit test this morning! (The goal, of course, is to head home ready for the translation exam required for his PhD -- at this pace, I have no doubt he'll be good to go.)

I have seven classes (six law classes, plus a French class), with my week beginning at 7:15 PM on Mondays and ending at 12:15 on Thursdays (plus, of course, however long homework takes). One of my less-favorite elements of studying at Sciences-Po -- but something the university is famous for -- is something called the "exposé." This is a ten-minute presentation on a specific aspect of the course topic: it sounds simple enough, except that 2/3 of your grade for the course will depend on how the professor scores your presentation! My first exposé will be on Thursday morning, and my second will be next Wednesday night. (Fortunately, both of these classes are conducted in English -- public speaking in a second language is a fear I can put off for a few more weeks yet.)

The Techno Parade and a Ficus Plant

Who: Large trucks bearing oversized speakers, and lots of half-clothed, half-drunk techno music fans
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: Directly between our apartment and the grocery store

When we decided to make a grocery run on Saturday afternoon, we had no idea what was lurking 500 feet from our front door: the Techno Parade. First we heard the party, then we saw it. Traffic was stopped, and the street was absolutely packed with people. Every minute or two, another music truck would roll slowly by: each truck had a DJ, at least eight six-feet-tall speakers, and a contingent of girls dancing to the beat.

We fought our way through the crowds to pick up the things we needed. But as we entered the store, we noticed that plants were on sale for 50% off. We'd been talking about getting a plant to fill in an empty corner of the apartment -- but it would have to be reasonably tall and fairly hardy (Gloria has a habit of chewing the leaves off small potted plants). What we found was a four-foot ficus plant. Unfortunately, we don't have any pictures (after all, we'd just been headed out for groceries!), so I'll have to ask you to imagine Matt, carrying a large plant, and trying to find his way through a the crowd.

We do, however, have somewhat more typical pictures of Paris. Last weekend were the National Patrimony Days, when museums, government offices, and historic sites throw open their doors for no admission charge. We didn't take as much advantage of this as we likely should have, but we did enjoy climbing all the way to the top of the Arc de Triomphe (284 stairs!) and getting some beautiful views of the city.

Chez nous

It's hard to believe we've been in Paris for nearly two weeks now! The first few days were filled with a seemingly endless to-do list -- there are still many, many things left to do, but we're finally beginning to feel a little settled in here.

For those who don't know, we celebrated our wedding with our families in St Andrews on August 7. We took a brief honeymoon to Colonial Williamsburg, then drove (20 hours) from Virginia to Kansas, where my parents hosted a combination wedding reception/going away party. Then we drove (14 hours) from Kansas to Michigan, where Matt's mom hosted a similar event. And then, we drove out to DC (11 hours) to try our own hand at a reception/party for our DC friends, as well as get moved out of our apartment.

We flew from DC to Paris (by way of Copenhagen) on September 2, with four heavy suitcases and two thoroughly unimpressed cats. Even though they would rather have been at home, the cats travelled like champs -- we didn't sedate them at all, they didn't complain (most people near us on the planes didn't even know we were travelling with pets!), and they even ate and drank during the long flight. Getting them through customs was far easier than we expected: no one asked for any of their health certification, or even looked into the carriers -- we just walked right through. (Both of us have wondered if we might have gotten away bringing Rosslyn, but I somehow doubt everything would have gone so smoothly if one of the carriers was quacking...)

We went straight from the airport to our new apartment, and met the manager to pick up the keys. We have a great one-bedroom apartment, one floor off a relatively quiet street in the Third Arrondissement.

I'm now about one-third of the way through an extensive orientation program Sciences-Po (my university for the year) has designed specifically for the American students in my program. We're taking a language class designed to bring our French up to snuff, as well as a methology course designed to teach us the formatting, protocol, etc. that's expected by French professors.
"Real" classes start on September 29. I have six classes this semester -- two required classes, plus four electives. Three and one-half of my classes will be taught in English, and the other 2-1/2 are in French (obviously, there's one bilingual seminar).

Matt's school (he's taking an intensive, year-long language course) is on a more traditional French schedule, so he won't start classes until the end of the month. Until then, he gets to slowly explore Paris, although he's also doing some ongoing work related to his PhD.

Much of our "free" time has been taken up by trying to satisfy the bureaucrats. Matt and I each received student visas before we left the US, but, because we're planning to be here for nine to twelve months, we have to convert them to temporary residence permits. As it's been explained to me so far, this basically requires four steps: (1) registering at the university as a student; (2) acquiring health insurance; (3) qualifying for the residence permit; (4) proving that we're adequately healthy to be allowed to stay in France for awhile.

So far, I've done (1) and (2). Registering for health insurance was shockingly easy, and entirely online: I just completed a simple registration form with my name and address, then ticked off which form of insurance I wanted to pay for. I stood in line for 90 minutes to get my student ID last Wednesday, and was one of few students to succeed (read: have all the necesary documents) on my first attempt.

So, it's on to Step 3 -- now, I'm trying to get my carte de sejour (residence permit). The number of papers they require is truly amazing. To give you an idea, I've got to submit my birth certificate; my student ID; our apartment lease; our renter's insurance policy; a copy of my student visa; a copy of the picture page of my passport; our marriage certificate; a letter certifying that I was admitted to Sciences-Po; a form certifying that I have registered for classes; my health insurance card; two photocopies of everything; and a self-addressed, stamped envelope so everything can be returned to me after it's reviewed. I've triple-checked the list, and I think this is everything I'll need -- so, after I finish class tomorrow, I'm headed off to the office, where I'm sure I'll be told what I've forgotten. :)

After this, Step 4 requires an offical government medical exam -- I'm not 100% sure what to expect, but "they" say it's basically a quick physical, plus an X-ray to check for tuberculosis. I am 100% sure, though, that this exam isn't very useful at protecting the public health, as I will have spent several weeks in France (theoretically infecting the public-at-large) before I see a doctor. Neverthess, it's required unless you desire to be an illegal immigrant -- a status to which neither Matt nor I aspire. :)

Since the whole process begins when you enroll at school, we'll get to run through this all over again as soon as Matt's classes start -- I'm hopeful, though, that it'll be a little easier because we'll know what he needs, based on what I needed.

We'll try to post weekly updates, just to share what's happening in our lives. We hope all of you are well, and hope that you'll send us your news (just let us know if you need our address)!