The Mythical and Dangerous Game of Frisbee

And I thought I would have nothing to write about today.

Today’s adventures consisted of: The Quest for the Certificat Medical

It started off like any other of my ventures from these past two weeks: heading out of my building into the cold January air, noting the still overcast skies above, and setting forth towards my destination, passing pedestrians, dogs, motorcycles, and dashing across busy streets. I have learned my way around at this point, and am able to find the building I am looking for without a map. Indeed, I don’t think I could have missed it. It was one of the University buildings, and it had no other word for it than immense. I had an appointment with the school’s doctor at 14h30 (2:30PM) for un certificat medical, which I needed to give to the Association Sportive at Sciences Po in order to join the Ultimate Frisbee team, and I arrived at the building without a minute to spare. Now it was just a matter of finding the right office. I wandered about until I found a sign that looked promising, and I scaled the staircase until I reached the top, at the 6^th floor. I found myself in a fairly deserted hallway, looking more academic than medical. I realized I had brought myself to the offices of the medical school, not the doctor. I took the elevator this time to the Rez-de-chaussée  (ground floor) to start again. I found a smaller, more useful sign pointing me to the first floor. I reached a small office and adjoining waiting room, with smiling receptionists. This looked more promising.

I greeted them and said I had an appointment for 14h30 (though at this point I was running 15 minutes late due to getting lost). They found my name and asked for my student ID card. I told them I don’t have it yet because I’m an exchange student, and the told me not to worry, they would see me anyway. I received a clipboard and pen, and was directed to a bench with some other students to fill out a form and wait.

I have done this many times before, just… not in French. Seeing me struggle with some of the more obscure vocabulary, one of the students kindly assisted me in translating the form.

I was called up promptly, and brought to one of the examining rooms. This doctor seemed to be in his mid sixties, though he spoke kindly and when he asked me questions. Then we came to the question of what sport I play.

« Et vous jouez quel sport? »

« C’est l’Ultimate. »

« Quel sport ? »

« L’Ultimate Frisbee. C’est à Sciences Po, j’ai une carte ici avec mon nom ; c’est un vrai sport. »

 He hadn’t heard of it. He asked me to write it down for him. He walked out of the room for a moment, then came back and said,

« On ne peut pas vous voir ici, c’est un sport très violent, vous avez besoin à aller à une autre adresse. »

Ultimate? Violent? Well, I mean I guess it can get a bit extreme. I’ve seen a few concussions, plenty of twisted ankles and shin splints, and more bruises than I can count, but is it really more violent than say, soccer?

I was brought to the front desk and given a new address and number where I should be seen. I couldn’t believe this. The receptionists sounded curious; what sort of sport could I be playing that was so dangerous? I tried to explain Frisbee to them, saying it was sort of like soccer (football), but with a Frisbee. I said I couldn’t understand why he said it was dangerous. Though it can be extreme, I had never been injured. They looked apologetic as they bid me to go.

I left the building heading home, shaking my head in frustration.

Why? Seriously? Violent?

It was just as I was leaving the block that my new French cell started to ring. I answered it, but couldn’t really understand what they were saying on the other end, and I told them so. They switched the phone to someone who spoke English.

“Hello, you just came up for un certificat medical for a sport?”

“Yes.”

“I think there has been a mistake, the doctor thought you meant Ultimate Fighting, not Frisbee.”

Oh wow, no wonder.

“Have you gone far?”

“No, I’m right outside.”

“Okay, could you come back up?”

“Sure.” Then I hung up.

No wonder they didn’t want to see me before! They thought I was doing, I don’t know, boxing, or wrestling, or I don’t know what.

I came back up and spoke to the man from the phone. He reiterated what he said before, and apologized for the confusion. As I filled out the clipboard form again, he asked me curiously, what IS Ultimate? Was this a sport at Sciences Po?

I said it was, and that it might be a new sport here this year, but that it definitely was not a new sport. I explained that it is sort of like football, but with a Frisbee.

“Or handball.” Said one of my friends from the Welcome program on the bench next to me.

The same doctor brought me back to his office, and the appointment went smoothly from there. I received my certificat medical, and left the building smiling to myself.

I taught French doctors about Frisbee, what did YOU do today?

I brought the form to the Association Sportive office at Sciences Po, and headed for home, quest complete.

À Bientôt!

The Top Ten Things I Have Seen in Paris So Far:

1.     Scarves

Scarves are so essential here! I wasn't sure I believed my mom when she told me I'd need scarves in Paris, but nearly EVERYONE wears them! All the time! Inside and out! I never used to wear scarves, but now I feel I can't leave the building without one!

2.     Sandwiches

Ahh yes. The common food for on the go. And really it's a staple in the U.S. as well, but I've never seen anything like this! Nearly everywhere there are stands, cafés and restaurants selling sandwiches! And not the square-loaf, white bread kind, we're talking full on baguettes here. I am going to turn into a sandwich.

3.     Soldes

It was at least a full day before I realized that this word posted on every surface was not a company, but the word sales. Riiiight, that makes much more sense. Almost everything is on sale right now, and I think will be until some point in February.

4.     Black Clothing

I have not seen a flashy dresser here. Not once. Ever. They are quite chic though.

5.     Leather shoes

They are on sale, everywhere, so pretty, I still could never afford them...

6.     Billets pour le Métro

Scattered everywhere, mostly on the actual Métro. These tickets are expensive, may need a pass soon.

7.     Cigarettes

Yeah, a lot of people smoke.

8.     Pigeons

It's a city. Enough said.

9.     Bars

On every corner, on every block. 

Drinks are so expensive, but the music can so rock. 

(and that's the extent of my rhyming capabilities at the moment, thank you)

10. Gyros

I. LOVE. GYROS. with frites!! 

More to come soon!

À Bientôt!

First Week

It has been raining for DAYS. Granted, it hasn’t been pouring, but just enough that you go outside and go about your business, hoping the drizzle will let up, but it DOESN’T.

Despite the rain, I am having a fantastic week!

The first week here at SciencesPo has been very welcoming and informative. There have been scheduled activities and tours nearly every day for the international students, and the other French students have been gracious and enthusiastic in making us feel welcome here. There was also a Methodology course required for everyone enrolled in the Welcome Program, taught daily from Tuesday through Saturday. This course taught the international students the French methodology for written and oral work in class, proving to be very different and often more complex than the work that the typical American student is used to presenting at their home institution. Nonetheless, the course was very informative and guided us to understanding the sort of quality of work that would be expected of us this semester.

The Welcome Program also helped the international students to socialize amongst themselves and meet other students from around the world. I myself have met many other American students, as well as students from all over Europe, China, and Australia, to name a few. It has been a wonderful experience to meet other students from all over the world.

Additionally, I also had some college friends from the U.S. stay with me for a few days last week, which was awesome. They had been doing some traveling of their own, and came to Paris for their last stop before going home. I showed them around my area of Paris, and we did a lot of touristy sight seeing as well, including Notre Dame, Versailles, and the Eiffel Tower. All places are very much worth the visit.

We started off with going to Versailles on Thursday morning, not really having a clue as to how to get there by train, and having to figure it out as we went along. We did eventually make it there without too much trouble. It was cloudy, but nice enough that we could walk around the gardens, which, even in January, are breathtaking. The fee to walk through both the palace and the gardens was decent, only 15€, and I say that’s decent because I could end up spending that much going out for drinks with friends. I was very pleased to see the hall of mirrors again, this time only filled with tourists instead of scaffolding (or d’échafaudage, I love that word) like it had been during my last visit when they were cleaning it, I think.

We came back to Paris in the afternoon for lunch and to tour Notre Dame. I left them around 2:30pm (14h30) to go for a ride on a Batteau-Mouche, which is a boat tour on the Seine. It was a free ticket through the Welcome Program, so I took advantage of the opportunity.

It was freezing out on the water, but at least I chose the afternoon tour instead of the evening one. I can’t imagine how cold that would have been. Not many of the other students chose the afternoon tour, so I’m guessing the rest went at night.

I had taken a similar ride on the Seine a few years ago, though with the added experience of getting up and walking around the deck, it felt more surreal than touristy. It really hit me then. I live in Paris. I’m not here to take pictures of everything from every angle, placing myself in front of historical monuments with two thumbs up, none of that. I get to live here. The way I see it, I’d rather experience seeing everything with my eyes, not through a lens. Besides, if I want pictures of most of these sites, I could find them online. No need to waste my time. I will take pictures with friends, for sure, but I see no point to having a million pictures of the architecture.

I met up with my friends again later that night in front of the Eiffel Tower, though we kept just missing each other and met up a little later than expected. And by then it was very, very cold. The tower was beautiful all lit up, but all I could think about was finding my friends and where we would stop for dinner. Since the Tour d’Eiffel is one of the most touristy places you can go in this city, naturally there are people wanting to sell you souvenirs. The place was nearly buzzing with them, men walking about selling light up miniature Eiffel Towers and Eiffel Tower key chains.  I am glad I remembered then how to say, “No, thank you, I don’t want any,” in French (Non, merci, je n’en veux pas,) but I had to say it a LOT. I do feel bad in a way turning them down, but they were everywhere and approaching anyone who looked like a tourist, trying to make a deal every few minutes. By the time I did meet up with my friends, I was very ready to leave.

We stopped for some food a few streets away, then headed back towards my apartment. We then went out to visit some bars in my neighborhood. We were lucky enough to meet up with most of my new friends from the Welcome Program, and we spent the evening hanging out with them.

I have since heard that my friends returned home safe and sound last Friday, and since then I have been mostly working on finishing my Methodology course, and participating in the last of the Welcome Program activities. Yesterday I participated in the Buddy Program with SciencesPo, which pairs international students with a French ‘buddy’ from SciencesPo to help guide them through the semester if they need someone with whom they can ask questions. My ‘buddy’ is very nice, as are the other ‘buddies’ in the program, and they showed us around the city some more last night, with a few games and challenges in between, including but not limited to: giving ‘free hugs’ to tourists in front of the Louvre, making a human pyramid in the Jardin des Tuileries, and ‘looking like tourists’ for a photo in front of l’Obélisque. It was all very silly and fun.

I have no classes this week since I am in the English program, so I will be taking the opportunity to visit as many art museums as possible; I’ve heard that the Musée d’Orsay is free after 6pm on Thurdays to students, as is the Louvre after 6pm on Fridays.

On a final note, seriously, why had I never had kebabs or gyros in the US?? I may become addicted to them here…

À Bientôt!

Arriving in Paris

Whoa my goodness, I’m in Paris, and I haven’t updated in over a week. My apologies.

This was mostly due to complications of not having the right adapter for my laptop to begin with, and taking until Wednesday to find a suitable one. Granted, I could have updated en route via my Blackberry I suppose, but it’s a small keyboard and I’d rather be at leisure with a full sized one. So there.

Naturally, I have SO MUCH I need to comment on after having been here a full week, so let’s start with when I first arrived in Paris.

I arrived on time at the airport on Saturday night, and managed to retrieve all my bags from the baggage claim, even my skis. I went to find my driver for the shuttle I scheduled, and since I did not see anyone holding up a sign with my name on it yet, I went off to the side to wait, rather than standing in the middle of the arrivals gate with my four bulking suitcases. One taxi driver asked me if I needed to call a taxi, and I stammered in French that I didn’t need one thank you, I already had a shuttle. It took several tries for him to understand what I meant, since I realized I didn’t actually know the word for shuttle. My driver came along within a few minutes, and we were on our way to pick up my keys.

Now, I had only just changed the address I needed to be brought to the day before, due to a scheduling conflict. I had tried in vain in between connecting flights to contact the shuttle company again to let them know that I actually had two locations, the first to pick up my keys, and the second to be brought to my apartment. So I’m sitting in the back of the shuttle, rehearsing and working up the courage to ask my driver in French if he could please first bring me to my scheduled destination, wait 5 minutes, and bring me to the second, way over on the other side of the city. I knew this wouldn’t have cost me more to begin with, since it was one fee of 99€ for the private van, but still, I wished I had some Euros in my wallet so that I could at least tip him. Thankfully he was willing to do as I asked, and he brought me right up to my apartment and dropped off my bags and myself on the sidewalk in front of my building.

Picture if you will, it is around 7PM (or 19h) in Paris, and the sun has set. It is a well -lit street just off of one of the main boulevards in the arrondissement, brimming with people, dogs, cars, bikes, and mopeds. The florescent sign over the pharmacie on my street says that it is 11˚ C (so that’s about 51.8 ˚ F). In January. My apartment rests over a chic clothes shop, like many others on the street.

I struggled with my bags, which I could never carry all at once, to pull them up to the front door of my building. There was a group of men whom had just exited the door and were talking amiably amongst themselves in front of the entrance. I can only imagine how I looked as I approached, dragging a couple bags at a time, inching towards the door, looking like I had been traveling for over 24 hours, and again, stammering in French that I needed to get inside. They very kindly opened the door for me using the access code (which I had myself stuffed in my purse when I had picked up my keys), and each picked up a bag and brought it through the entrance, and neatly stacked them in the elevator. One asked if I was an American (dang, cover blown already?), and I said yes. They welcomed me to France and left the building. I stood in the tiny ornate elevator, puzzling. The liaison person whom had found me this place and given me my keys had said this building had no elevator. I curiously pressed the button for the sixth floor.

Of course nothing happened. I began to wonder whether it was just broken. Steeling myself for the inevitable, I faced the dark spiral staircase.

I knew there was no way I could carry all my bags at once, and even then I wondered whether I could drag just one up either. I tucked my heavier suitcases in a shadowy corner not visible from the entryway, and started up.

This was going to be impossible.

The stairs spiraled up clockwise, a nightmare for a lefty if descending the staircase. Also, I couldn’t find the light switch, and I was already sweating buckets after the first flight of stairs, but I kept going, bringing up one bag one floor at a time, and coming back for the rest after each floor. By the third trip to the first floor, I was really driving the dog behind the door of the first floor apartment nuts. I really hoped I wasn’t bothering other residents as well with my clunking and thumping around. It wasn’t until I had established all my things on the second floor and was starting with the third that I remembered something I had seen in the directions given to me with my keys. I scrambled to find the slip of paper, and read it from the light of my Blackberry.

“To access your floor, go past the elevator into the small interior courtyard. Proceed to the far left door of the small courtyard and take steps to the 6^th (and last) floor. Your room is along the hallway, the door is marked with an ‘A’”.

What small interior courtyard?!?

I managed to swear only at a whisper, and groan in exasperation. No wonder this part of the building looked so nice. All the while the dog on the first floor was howling away at my intrusion as I began correcting my mistake and taking all the bags down again. I managed to fall only once, and just down a few stairs, blaming the right-handed staircase. Once I managed to get everything downstairs again, I proceeded past the elevator through a back door.

It was indeed a small interior courtyard, complete with dumpsters and recycling bins, and one door. I took one of my bags and started again.

This was yet again another dark spiral staircase, far more worn down and looking more like they led to an attic than apartments, though they were mercifully spiraling in the other direction. I decided to just stick with taking each back all the way to the top this time, leaving the others in the courtyard and hoping that would be the best method. After what seemed like hours, I managed to drag all my bags (two of them nearly 50lbs each), one by one to the very top floor to my room.

It was much the size I had expected from the description, about 8’x12’, with one large window looking out over the courtyard, complete with twin bed, mini fridge, hot plate, sink, shower, and storage space abundant. I explored the nooks and crannies, opening all the cupboards. I found a table that folded up into the wall, and a closet space of sorts. I was horrendously pleased that I had my own shower, and proceeded to rinse off after hours of travelling before calling home. The W.C. (water closet aka toilet) was down the hall, and I learned that I shared it with the five other residents on the hall, mostly other American students. After I had settled in a bit and unpacked, I went downstairs to explore the street a bit. I managed to buy some toiletries at the pharmacie, but not much else was open by that time. I figured I could try grocery shopping in the morning.

Sunday was gorgeous. The temperature felt like the mid-fifties Fahrenheit, the sky was clear, and so many people were out enjoying the weather. It didn’t take me long to realize that the Monoprix around the corner was closed on Sundays, and would need to wait to buy foodstuffs. Instead, I roamed the streets of the arrondissement, learning my way around, finding post offices, ATMS, and markets. I purchased some veggies and apples at a grocer’s, and found a boulangerie (bakery) where I bought a baguette. Not really a meal there, but some sustenance. I brought it all back home, munched, then decided I wanted to find Notre Dame and do some sketching. I found it on my Blackberry, and accordingly found it fairly easily within walking distance.

Notre Dame is gorgeous, and I always feel like an art history dork in the best way when I go to historic sites. I spent about an hour drawing the façade, sitting on one of the benches, occasionally people-watching, before going in for walking along the déambulatoire. One important thing I learned that day though: if you are sitting too long in a public tourist trap like that, people may come up to you asking you to donate to their organizations. It is best I think to politely say no.

After I had explored Notre Dame, I went wandering along some of the streets on the other side of the Seine, watching street performers, and walking over the bridges. I bought a small ice cream, and you have never tasted vanilla like they can do it homemade, oh boy.

I made my way back to my new home to rest a bit before scoping out the town for an inexpensive place to eat. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to have any luck before I found a small crêperie that served a sandwich or panini with fries and a small soft drink for 5,50. Score. I sat in there eating what was basically French fast food for a bit, and then made my way back towards home. I found a small bar/tabac around the corner on my block, stopped in for a glass of beer, and just relaxed at a table by the window for a bit, checking email on my Blackberry. Not bad for a first day.

There is more to come as I catch up on my adventures from my first experiences at Sciences Po this week, but until then,

À Bientôt!

Introduction: Visas, Goodbyes, and Packing

Bonjour tout le monde!
As those of you who may be following this blog may know, I'm off to Paris!
This process has been by far the most complicated and infuriatingly bureaucratic thing I have ever attempted, and has made my fall semester terribly stressful and exhausting.
BUT! The paperwork is almost over (despite a new list of things to get done once I actually get there), and now it's the moment we've all been waiting for... no, not flying,
PACKING.
In a word, ugh.
Thanks to much help from friends and family I was able to acquire all (at least nearly all) my belongings from school and home, and have unceremoniously dumped them on my side of the bedroom I share with my sister. Despite the load of it all, it probably won't take that long, considering the amount of practice I've had over the years with packing and unpacking; I'm just not particularly looking forward to carting it all to the airport, and hoping it's not too heavy.
In recent news, I received my student visa!
Do the conga with me! Chachachacha chacha!
A horrendous process at best, getting a visa is not actually that difficult to do once you have gotten all your paperwork in order and you seem like a sensible and safe sort of person to send into the country. It can just be annoying to gather all said paperwork and make the appointment after you have the say so from Campus France, but that's a whole other headache I won't get into.
Funny story about my visa appointment actually, concerning being official and all. My mom drove me to the Consulate for my appointment, and went to find a parking place. I was left to walk briskly through a golden revolving door, in new shoes, coat, and scarf (apparently the French are BIG on scarves these days, but more on that later) to look presentable. I showed my ID at the front desk and signed in, and was directed to the 7th floor. I had been warned beforehand that I would need to present my proof of appointment to the guard before being let in, but I guess I should have expected that he would search my bag too. After he let me in, I waited for the woman behind the counter to call me up. The consulate consisted of a couple small waiting rooms, with a glass window over the counter, rather like a movie theater. She called me up, and began asking for my documents, one at a time, under the counter. I was nervous, but glad I had everything I needed.
Then I heard my Mom's voice coming up behind me and I jumped. She and my sister wandered in, and seated themselves, as if this was a casual waiting area. My first thought was,
"How on EARTH did you get in here??" Then I remembered, she's my mom, and has Jedi powers.
Apparently the guard didn't need to see any official documents from her. He didn't even search their bags! Everyone else was being interrogated by the guard with the accent, but my mom? Ohh, no.
If that weren't enough, she did it again when we came back up after running to the ATM. The guard didn't even remember that he had my form, and my mom just looked at him and said,
"You don't need to see her form."
"I don't need to see her form?"
"She's all set. We just went to the ATM."
"Oh. Okay, go on in."
These are not the droids you're looking for.
And once again, our bags weren't searched.
I was just incredulous. My mother never ceases to amaze me.
I'm grateful I got the chance to say goodbye to many of my friends from school, whom I will sorely miss, and I hope they all have a good spring semester.
That's all I have for now, but will hopefully update en route and certainly when I arrive.
À Bientôt!