Expensive tea, the Sacred Heart, and Greek food en France

Tuesday/Mardi/Martes I woke up late because I was too lazy to dig out my alarm clock and set it the previous night. I managed to still grab breakfast, but I missed the optional morning excursions. It turned out for the better though probably, because I bought an internet card and went online for a bit, then explored the area outside my hotel with a few people. We hit up a Starbucks (apparently there aren’t any in Rennes, but Paris definitely had a few. Nothing like New York City though, or even Pittsburgh).

Starbucks in France is so. incredibly. expensive. I thought that I was being a smart frugal girl when I ordered tea (also… I hate coffee), but the tea was 3,10€. That’s $4.02, for all of you not following along at home. Yeah. Whatever Starbucks.

We got lunch again at the hostel, and went out afterwards for a tour of l’Hôtel de Ville. It’s this really pretty building in Paris that’s home to a lot of offices, as well as hosting tons of parties and stuff throughout the year. This is another thing that I’m not sure if I saw or not the last time I was in Paris… whoops.

Afterwards a small group of us headed out with one of the moniteurs to Montmartre. We saw the Sacre Coeur, as well as some amazing views of Paris. Then everyone went out for coffee… and I got a crêpe. MmMmm…

FYI: The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus of Paris, commonly known as Sacré-Cœur Basilica (French: Basilique du Sacré-Cœur), is a Roman Catholic church and minor basilica, dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, in Paris, France. A popular landmark, the basilica is located at the summit of the butte Montmartre, the highest point in the city. Just in case you didn't know. I didn't, until I few days ago. Thanks Wikipedia.


View from the Sacre Coeur


Le Sacre Coeur. I didn't take this photo. Mine were terrible quality, plus it was a really really grey day.

We had dinner free, so a group of us walked around with the moniteurs and settled on a Greek restaurant. One of the moniteurs did a bit of negotiating, and managed to get us a discount if we all ordered the same meal. We ended up paying 6€ each... otherwise, it would’ve been more like 11 or 12. I don’t think you can play that game in the US, but I had no problem with it here. We had gyros with French fries. I tried to remember some of my Greek, but that was a complete fail…

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Arriving in Paris

So I wake up on the fight, after probably one of the MOST uncomfortable sleeps in my life, and I’m in Paris. I have also missed “breakfast” which was apparently an apple pie-like pastry thing. Like, the type of thing you’d find at a 7-11. Damn. Side note: I miss 7-11s.

The group was meeting between 930-1030 at like, 2C? Dude. Charles de Gaulle airport is one of the MOST confusing airports I’ve ever navigated though. And I’m proud to say that I’ve successfully navigated a fair few.

So I ended up meeting up with a few other kids from CIEE right when I got off the airplane. It took us about 30 minutes to get our bags, get through immigration, take the tram, etc etc. During these 30 minutes, I really regretted bringing two 50lb suitcases. I was always the last one in the group because I kept having to change my grip on my luggage, pick up my luggage when it fell over, or just simply take breaks. I mean, I know that this is just an issue I’m going to have to deal with my first few days moving around and also my last trip to Paris in May (to fly out), and that I won’t regret packing thoroughly… but still. It was a HUGE pain. I have a big suitcase on wheel and a huge duffel, so I usually put the duffel on top of the suitcase with wheels and wheel it around. Of course, it usually falls off every 2-3 minutes. Anyway, Katy’s poor luggage-handling skillz aside…

We finally meet up with the group, including the two coordinators, right by the Air France check-in desks. I tried to use my Verizon phone… it worked from the Dominican Republic, albeit being mad expensive… so I figured it would from France too. Nope. It doesn’t receive any signal, not even the time. So now it’s just this random hunk of plastic that I keep carrying around with me in my purse, because I forget that it will serve me absolutely no purpose in this country. I ended up using a phone card that one of the coordinators had to call my parents (it was like… 330am) and we hung out for a bit before bringing all of our stuff (more luggage issues… I still have blisters) out to the bus.

We drove from CDG about 40 minutes (I fell asleep… Colleen.) to downtown Paris and settled in at our hostel. I’d never stayed in a hostel before and I really didn’t know what to expect. There are like 38 people in our group (and we’re apparently getting 4 more once we get to Rennes), 4 moniteurs (students at our university whose job it is to help us through orientation and on-and-off during the semester…. They’re all really cool), and the 2 coordinators… so we were a large group. They broke the girls in CIEE up into bedrooms from 3 students to 10 students- mine had 7- and we brought our bags up after eating lunch.


The room I was staying in… that’s my bed


The main room in our hostel-room-thing

A couple people went out in the afternoon to explore the city… I went against my normal “I do not nap” rule and crashed for a bit. It was that or passing out somewhere on a sidewalk in Paris.

After my lovely nap, we all went out to dinner at a restaurant called Relais d’Alsace. Which I’m pretttttty sure that we went to the last time I was in Paris, but I’m not positive. Dinner was fish, which I usually don’t like… but it was covered in butter, so no complaints. We had a couple different choices for dessert, and I got the crème brûlée. I’d never had it before (I know. Foodie fail), and I figured that I’d try it. Veryyyyy good.

After dinner we headed back to the hostel. Some people went out to explore the city, but I was still dead tired.

Hmmm well that’s it for the summary of Monday, but what else can I say… so yeah, there are going to be 42? of us in the group. Right now there are only 4 guys, I’m not sure if there are going to be any guys in the group of 4 that’re (love awkward contractions) joining us. I didn’t find that too surprising- in my French classes (both in high school and at Pitt) there are never more than 3 or 4 guys. There are people from all over the US, including people from semi-nearby me: Rochester and Westchester. Most people are French majors or minors, as to be expected….

I keep wanting to compare this experience to mine in the DR, which really isn’t fair to do. So I’m going to try not to do it right now, but no promises for later on.

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Longest Day Ever

Sunday morning my parents drop me off at the airport. There were 5 flights I could’ve taken to Philly to catch my 615pm flight to Paris, and I picked the second-to-earliest one at 720am. You may call me crazy, but then you obviously haven’t lived in central New York where ANY weather is possible. I would rather have a 9 ½ hour layover in Philly (which I had) then have my flight be delayed/cancelled and arrive late to Philly.

So I get to Philly and hang out for, well, 9 ½ hours. So boring. I slept for a bit (as I hugged my purse containing my visa), talked to some nice Swiss people, did a few laps across the Philly airport (exercise), got an overpriced McDonald’s salad… etc. My flight to Paris is delayed, so we end up leaving around 730pm.



The airplane is MASSIVE. At least 300 seats. I get this really nice seat with a lot of legroom… but then this old man who seems quite grumpy pulls a stewardess over to my seat and tells her that he wants my seat. Not a seat with a lot of legroom, not a seat in my aisle… MY seat. So I mean, yeah, I let him sit down and I take his seat (which is the in middle of 4 seats in the middle of a huge block of seats). Then the stewardess comes over to me, apologizes, and offers me another aisle seat. So I take that. Then another stewardess comes over and asks me if I want to move. And I’m like “No, this is fine…” “Are you SURE?” “Uh…. Yeah…?” “Wait, come here.” And she pulls me aside and tells me that the LAST person with THAT seat asked to move because someone around them smelled really bad.

So I end up getting an aisle seat in the back of the plane, away from any smelly people, but with barely any legroom and a lot of noise. It was clear that the stewardesses felt pretty bad, and kept telling me that I could get whatever I wanted to drink. I told them that I wasn’t legal and couldn’t drink. Then they were like… “Oh… do you want headphones?” I mean, I probably could have gotten away with getting a drink without an ID, but I was planning on taking a sleeping pill, so I felt it was for the best not to drink anything.

There were TVs on the back of all the seats, and there were a lot of TV shows and movies offered. I chose to watch Easy A… I tried to watch it in Spanish, but then realized I was too tired to understand. Then I tried to watch it in French… and realized I was tooo tired to understand. So I took a sleeping pill and put it on in English. Great movie. I also got dinner. Then I passed out.

END OF SUNDAY ENTRY. Even though at this point, it’s technically only like 9pm.

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Désolée!

Hey all! sorry I'm terrible and haven't written yet.

and sorry that I'm not going to write at all in this post either. I'm just writing to say that I'm A) alive B) enjoying France C) really liking my family.

Oh, and, D) busy and/or tired ALL THE TIME.

On the bus on the way from Paris (to Rennes, where I currently am) I wrote 2 blog entries about my first two days in Paris... but I haven't written about my time since, yet, and I don't want to post those until I'm all caught up. So you'll have to wait a liiiiiiittle bit longer.

Not that anyone is pressuring me to blog, besides, err, myself... I just thought I'd let you all know that blogs are coming. as soon as I have time. and energy. maybe I should start drinking Diet Coke again...

I shall leave you all with a photo of me looking like a tool in front of the Lourve.

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VISA: OBTAINED.

Well, to make a long story short (except for not, because I'm pretty sure it was mentioned in every blog I wrote), I did end up getting my French visa. I went back down to New York City with a friend a few weeks ago and picked it up. The scary lady was still there, of course, and still just as scary. Last time she had asked me for a letter from my university (which I didn’t have) but I gave her a copy of my Pitt ID instead. I [incorrectly] assumed that this was sufficient, because she didn’t say anything like, you know, “when you come back, bring me a letter from your university”.

So after showing up to the consulate at 9am, waiting for about an hour in the holding pen upstairs, my name gets called. I go up to the desk and give the lady my receipt and passport. She asks me if I have the letter from my university. “Uhh… no. I have my school ID?” (which I have since lost, by the way. If anyone from Pitt has found it, please let me know…)

She scowled at me and was like “No, I already have a copy of your ID. See? I need a letter.” “Oh, I’m sorry, I misunderstood. I thought that my ID was sufficient.”

And here, she turns to the woman in the booth next to her and is like “Oh, well, she misunderstood.” And tells me to sit back down. So I do, and I happen to overhear the girl next to me say that she’s leaving in two days and still doesn’t have her visa. It was her third time to the consulate. Hmm… reassuring.

After about 20 minutes of freaking out, I finally hear my name called again. I didn’t know if she was calling me up to yell at me again and tell me to come back, or what. But when I get to the window, she glares at me, shoves my passport and my OFII form through the slit under the window, and lets me go. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

On my way out of the office, I stop by the security guard’s booth thing. I ask him if he found a scarf a few weeks ago, and he turns it over. Another success. I leave with my $300+ visa and my $7 scarf.

So that was a huge load off. I’m not finished, though. of course. Once I get to France I need to go get some forms taken care of and get a medical examination and other run wastes of my time.

I would like to post of photo of my visa here- I put one up on my Facebook- but it has my full name on it, so I’ll just have to let you all leave it to your imaginations.

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French Consulate Day

Just to warn you, this is an epicly long post.

So today was the day I’ve been waiting for forEVER. Well, waiting for/dreading. Today I went to my visa appointment at the French consulate in New York City. This is the final step of the REALLY REALLY REALLY LONG PROCESS that is Getting A Long Stay French Visa.

In case you haven’t been following along this whole time, kiddies, let me sum this all up for you. I’ll Sparknote it for you.

Early August- got bagels (mmm bagels) with my friend Tori, who is also spending her year split between two countries. She mentions how she’s stressed over getting a visa for her second country. I think, “oh, how lucky am I, neither of my study abroad countries require visas la la la.” Then I go home and, just for fun, shoot “French student visa” into Google. Ohhhhhh damn. Proceed to freak out and call everyone I know who could potentially help me with this.

Mid August- leave for the Dominican Republic

Late August- go to the French embassy in the Dominican Republic, wondering if I could apply from there. Get turned away pretty much the second I walk in the door. See lovely recap of this incident here.

September-mid October- wait, wait, wait until I can get officially accepted to the program.

Late October- got officially accepted to my program. Started the French visa process.

Early November?- apply to CampusFrance. CampusFrance is a seemly pointless step in this process that involves putting basic info about yourself and your plans online and then sending a $70 money order to Washington DC. Schedule visa appointment for December 17th, two days after I am to come back from the DR. Original plan was for me to cancel my final leg (JFK to Syracuse) and just stay in NYC with my sister and go to my appointment from there.

November- gather papers gather papers gather papers. SO MANY DOCUMENTS.

Late November- my mother sends all of the papers that she has (some I have with me in the DR) with my sister after Thanksgiving, so she can give them to me before my appointment. These papers include everything from one-of-a-kind acceptance letters from France to my birth certificate.

Early December- due to the outbreak of Cholera in Haiti and its spread to the DR, as well as my rising stress level about my visa appointment, my parents ask/suggest/highly recommend that I come back early. My flight is changed for two days earlier, and we try to move my visa appointment earlier too. Unfortunately, there aren’t any earlier dates.

Mon, December 13th- fly home. Get in a bit after midnight.

Tues, December 14th- realize that the only bus down to NYC on Thursday is at 1am. Decide that it’d probably be better for me to take the bus the next day (Wednesday).

December 15th- 16th- NYC.
Okay, that enough of a recap? Sorry that’s kind of long. So that brings me to today. Today was a fun day! no it wasn’t. the only good parts of today were that I ate two salads and a really good mini-hot pretzel. and oatmeal for breakfast. food always makes everything better.

So this morning I got up way too early for someone on winter break to get up- 730- and headed out. Went to UPS to make copies of a few things (these things weren’t on the list of things that I needed, but it really can’t hurt) and buy a pre-addressed envelope. The envelope is for the consulate to send me my visa after it’s been processed. Or so I had thought. Dun dun dunnn. $26 for a stupid overnight envelope. GEEZ .

Got some oatmeal and took the 1 down to 70-something. Walked across Central Park and found the Visa Section of the French consulate. It was only 9am, and the security guard won’t let you in until it’s exactly the time on your sheet (mine said 10), so I killed an hour walking up and down Madison Avenue and window shopping things that I could never, ever afford.


French Consulate @ NYC. The Visa Section was actually around the corner.

At 10 I head into the consulate. I go through security, am given a number, and head up a staircase. There are four booth-y things on the left- kind of like at a doctor’s office? with numbers hung above each of them, and a sheet of glass dividing the visa-seeker from the French consulate worker. Et c’est bien necessaire. Anyway.

I head to the right, where there are about thirty people- a few of them standing- waiting to be called. I eventually get a seat and wait. and wait. and wait. for my number to be called. As I’m waiting, I hear one French woman just yelling and complaining and speaking in a condescending tone to everyone who gets called up. So this is the woman I’ve heard about. Greatttttt. Some girl’s papers were too wrinkled. Other people took too long to search through their documents. Another girl didn’t have her school ID. Etc etc etc.

At 1045- 45 minutes after I got there- my number gets called. However, it’s not to speak to the French lady. Nope, not yet. I go to the first window, where there is a seemingly nicer French man. I present my CampusFrance documents, application (which I screwed up a little bit… I filled in my university in France where I was supposed to fill in my home university. I made up an address for Pitt because I couldn’t remember the actual address. Whatever. 3500 Fifth Ave is close enough to Alumni), and pay for the visa. 50 Euros. Aka 66 dollars or 2454 pesos (ayyy that’s a lot of concho rides). After that I sat back down and waited for the French lady to beckon.

About 10 minutes later, she calls my name. I go up to the window, my heartbeat noticeably faster, and try to be nice. Fail. I don’t even really remember exactly the order things happened- so I’ll do my best... I guess my mind has already decided that this is one memory worth forgetting- but I do remember that I was terrified. She asks me for my receipt from Window 1. There were two receipts, and first I gave her the one she didn’t want. Yell. I give her the other one. Better. I also give her a copy of my passport and my OFII form.

She then asks me to put my fingers on this fingerprinter machine thing. I’m pretty positive that the last time I was fingerprinted I was four, and I was in Jersey (not sure why that’s relevant), and I used ink. I didn’t really understand how to use it and tried to put all fingers on at once, which is apparently what you’re really not supposed to do… got yelled at… eventually figured it out.
Then she needed to take my photo. I took off my coat and scarf and stood against a white backdrop. However, I was standing too far to the right. She told me to move over a bit… apparently I didn’t move over enough… got yelled at.


A fingerprinting machine. not at all like the one that I'm talking about. this one looks easy.

She then asked me for a bank statement. WHAT THE HECK. I’ve heard NOTHING but freak-outs from other kids who say that they went to their appointment with a bank statement and were turned away because they didn’t have a letter from their bank. So, obviously, I got a letter from my bank before I came. Thankfully, my mom also included a bank statement in with my papers.

She then asked for my flight confirmation, which I thankfully had EVEN THOUGH ON THE NY FRENCH CONSULATE WEBSITE IT CLEARLY SAYS DO NOT BUY YOUR PLANE TICKETS BEFORE RECEIVING YOUR VISA. But I’ve learned not to pay attention to a single thing that stupid webpage says.

Lastly, she asks for a letter from my home university. Which had not been mentioned ANYWHERE. “Uh. What letter. I have a letter from my study abroad program?” “NO, from your university in the STATES.” “Hmmm… university in France?” “NO, MA’AM, HOME UNIVERSITY.” “Uhhh well I have a copy of my school ID?” Apparently that was good enough. Thank GOD.

So she then stamps the payment receipt, puts it in my passport, and slides it under the glass at me. “Come back in a week.” “Er… I bought an envelope, I heard that the consulate can send…” “NO, MA’AM, WE DO NOT DO THAT.” “Oh… okay… so I come back in a week…” (Thinking: Christmas Eve is in a week.) “YES, MA’AM. BETWEEN 9-10AM.”

And then I run away, forgetting my scarf. I don’t go back for it. It was only $7.

So I’m perplexed. I still have my passport. And I also have a $26 envelope, addressed to my house, that I’m really not planning on doing anything with. But I want that $26 back. And more importantly, I really, really do not want to have to come back here on Christmas Eve. And also, one more time, why the hell do I still have my passport?!?! That’s where they’re supposed to put this stupid visa.

I start to walk across the park, think for a minute, then turn around and walk back to the consulate. I ask the security guard when I’m supposed to come back, can I have anyone else come back for me, and why do I still have my passport? He says “Between 9-10am Friday”, “Yes, as long as they have this receipt”, and “They know what they’re doing.”

Uh, okay. So I keep on thinking for a few hours that I’m going to need to come back down here on Friday morning… screw that… but then I talk to someone else from my group who tells me that I can come back Friday at the earliest. As in, I can come back between 9-10am on any day, as long as it’s next Friday or later. So THAT makes me feel better. And it makes a lot more sense.

I also get the feeling that if I were to come back on Friday, there’s a decent chance that I’d get told “Oh, it’s not ready yet, come back Monday”, or something equally as terrible.

So that’s my story. I’m currently on a Megabus headed north (we’re only 70 minutes behind schedule- spent a considerable amount of time waiting out in the cold for this thing), and I’m realllllly hoping that I’ll be able to spend the next few nights at home. Por favor. I enjoy travelling and all, but I also enjoy my house and my own bed and my kitchen and not living out of a suitcase.

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¿Te gusta mi país?

Again... written on the airplane, posted in JFK.

I was asked many times during my four months in the DR the question: ¿Te gusta mi país? Do you like my country?
Personally, I think it’s pretty ballsy to respond to this question- no matter what your opinion actually is- in a negative way. Yeah the States has its issues, but I would still probably get kind of ticked to hear a foreigner go on and on and on about the US being terrible.

So whenever I got asked this question- no matter what I was feeling at the time- I would respond overall positively.
And now, sitting on a half-full JetBlue plane, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, trying to be all deep and reflective and stuff… the goods totally outweigh the not-so-goods. Both with the country, and my experience in general.

The people:
Well, besides the entry that I just posted about Dominican men and piropos… ignore that one for now… I really did like the people here. Everyone- including women- is so friendly. Example: my university. Some friends from PUCMM have told me that most PUCMM students are snotty, because it’s “the university for the rich kids”, but I really didn’t find that at all. Whether it was doing group projects in class, asking directions, or just waiting in line next to someone in the cafeteria. Even when I had to teach English classes at PUCMM for my TESOL class, all of the students were really respectful. Granted, I don’t know how much of this was due to me being white. It’s definitely possible that attitudes are different towards Dominicans from other universities.

The climate:
Uh. I lived on an island in the Caribbean? Do you really want me to explain and shove in your face one more time that I spent the fall/pre-winter months in paradise, while most of you were scraping ice off your windshield in the morning and turning your car on 5 minutes early to heat it up? No?

The food:
FRIED STREET FOOD. Empanadas, yaroa, yaha, yucca balls…
FRESH FRUIT. Pineapple, mangoes, oranges, avocado, bananas, plantains, coconut…
Those are the two groups that really stand out to me, but also just even day-to-day Dominican cuisine. Rice and beans (which I know realllllllly got to some other students in my group, but I never really had a problem with it), tostones, guac, fresh fruit juice, sweet plantains (sliced plantains with sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg)… Lunch was prepared Monday through Friday by our housekeeper, and there were always at least five plates on the table full of food.

The language:
I had never been confident with my Spanish-speaking abilities before coming to the DR. At all. I couldn’t conjugate an irregular verb to save my life (how I passed 4 years worth of Spanish classes is beyond me) and my American/French accent was laughable. However, after just a few days in the DR, I just wanted to talk as much as I could. And then talk some more. And more. It didn’t take me too long to become comfortable speaking, even though I knew that I was still making mistakes. But I mean, whatever. Cliché, but I’m never going to get better if I never practice. When I’m back in the states, I want to speak Spanish at every opportunity. Hold me to that, someone. Anyone.

And I'm sure I'll have more to add later. It was a great experience. My host family was awesome, the Dominicans I became friends with were great, and I'm also really glad that I got to become close with other Americans. Even though they were often detrimental to my attempt at Spanish-only conversation. Just as I'm sure I was to theirs. (Does that even make sense...?)

I found this site with interesting/informative/funny articles about the DR.

And here they have 21 Things to Know Before Coming to the DR. Not that I think any of you are planning to come to the DR anytime soon, but para que sepan.

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