this fonctionnaire made me laugh today, but the dream is dead

As I am sitting in front of a concours issued secretary at a university today I couldn't help but be blinded by the ironic string of words that were leaving her mouth.

I went there for some more information on a course that I'm interested in doing next year. My careers mentor at the ME of F asked me to get some more information on the course in order to determine what type of jobs graduates do, how many of them find jobs afterwards etc. Kinda important stuff right?! Well, it seems that these questions really cheesed this fonctionnaire off. She said that it wasn't information to be given out and she said that it was the first time anyone had asked, and totally didn't see the importance of why I was asking. I gritted teeth and explained that it was my career mentor that advised me to find out this information in order to create my project, but no, she still thought I was rude and even seemed peeved that I'd mentioned this career mentor.


I knew it was time to leave when she accused me of just wanting to be told what course to take, that she couldn't tell me what I should do, that it was for me to construct my dream and that they were just the people to enable me to follow said dream. Haha? Dream? So, you being a fonctionnaire, who had to sit a concours in order to be then 'placed' in a department of probably not even your choice, you have the right to talk to me about following your dreams? My cul.

I left saying that I might sign up for the course once I'd defined my 'dream' and forced a bonne journée. I know I shouldn't be angry or upset about this hollow woman, but I can't help it. She really annoyed me. How dare she talk to me about dream jobs when the country where I find myself doesn't recognise my degree and won't allow me to sign up to a course that needs (the French) highschool diploma despite already having a bachelors? I'm just trying to save time by asking what type of jobs I would be able to do with certain diplomas under my belt. There is no way I am going to do another degree or diplmoa if the final outcome is unknown. I don't think that is stupid or rude to ask.

Unfortunately, if I do decide to do this degree, I'll have to go through her in order to get signed up and something tells me her concours certifucate will make my route there less than smooth.

Are you doing your dream job or did you settle for something else now you are in France? I would be interested to find out!

My good manners are wasted in France

I'm sorry Mum, you raised me well, spent 18 years forming me into a human being who respects rules and other people and taught me the art of politeness. I'm sorry I moved to France and all your hard work was wasted, that no one appreciates it.

In the bus queue yesterday, I hovered back as the bus rolled up to allow an eldery lady pass in front of me. The people behind me sighed loudly and pushed past me muttering that I was holding them up. The poor old lady got on last.

Today, again on the bus, I was the first at the bus stop, and was waiting ages for the bus. I was in the place to get on the bus first but yet as the bus pulled up, every single last person surged forwards leaving me to get on last and as a result, not get a seat.

It really drives me mad this behaviour. I almost want to shout out something but I know that this behaviour is quite normal in France. I always stand up too for elderly people or heavily pregnant women but I am totally in the minority.

You just can't change how you were brought up I guess.

The joke is on my Carte Vitale

I laughed out loud when I inserted my Carte Vitale into the machine at the pharmacy this morning, but to be honest I didn't expect anything different. 'Your card no longer works, please see the relevant authorities'.

I've had a hate-hate relationship with my carte vitale throughout my French life and now I can finally laugh in it's face at its uselessness.

When I lived in the North, I got my health insurance number like we all do and got my first green health insurance card or my 'carte vitale'. Great, that's done then. Oh no...

When I moved to the neighbouring departément picardie I never gave it a thought. After all, health insurance is a national scheme right? My card was going to work right? Wrong. I found out the painful way when I was admitted to hospital with a suspected burst appendix. 'Madame, your card isn't working (how are we going to prove you have the right to heqlth care??)' What? You can imagine the fall out that caused at the hospital.

With investigation, I found that you had to update your carte vitale at pharmacies anytime anything changes in your life....you move, change mutuelle etc. I also found that if your card couldn't be updated, you had to get a new one.

Wait a minute...why wouldn't your card be able to be updated? Surely that's the point of the machines to connect to the national database?! Ha, not so fast. With a shrug only a French fonctionnaire could manage I was told that moving departments 'sometimes' means getting a new card. Fine I thought, let's just it over with, fill in the forms and wait 4 months for the new card.

(As a side note, what do you think happens to the information on the old card? Is it just lost, forgotten about? Like my medical history doesn't matter? It's definately not on my new card that's for sure. Worringly really)

Annnyway, I knew the next battle was coming when I decided to get out of Education Nationale. You see, teachers get their own super special branch of health insurance called the MGE of N. Same carte vitale, totally different approach. Not to mention their super dooper mutuelle to help pay for health care. Not being a teacher anymore meant changing over to the general scheme CPA of M.

I was ready for the battle. I went to the office in town and explained that I was no longer a teacher (the woman looked at me like I'd just said I'd met santa...no one quits being a teacher) and I got all the paperwork to fill in. I recently received a letter saying 'You have been informed that it's possible to update your card, please do so'. Great I thought. They say it's possible, it must be. Zoom forward to the first paragraph of this post.

Please, was I really going to believe a bit of French paperwork saying that something was possible? No, I'm wiser than that. So, what's next in my Carte Vitale story? I will be sending off for my third carte vitale in 4 years. Unfortunately they have just started putting photos on them so that's something else to do. J had to get a new card too recently when he changed his official doctor to a local one. He waited 6 whole months for his so I won't be holding my breathe that I'll be getting mine anytime soon. He couldn't even fill in the form to get one as his request was in the 'system' and he had to wait to receive the form in the post, and wait he did.

I'd like to take this moment to remember all my medical history that has been lost and hope that one day a doctor won't need this information for alas, it went to carte vitale heaven.

The carte vitale. Not so vital after all.

As I was saying....

... In my last post yesterday about how I've given up on my nationality and having loads of things to write about but not being able to......Yesterday I had a typical example of how I am received in the shop that I just had to share. At one point yesterday I was asked to explain the finer details of custard to a woman (yes, my life is stimulating) and after doing so, she turned to my boss and said, and I quote 'c'est une anglaise?' He just did his usual (unfunny, and not necessary) thing of 'no, she's Welsh' but I mean.....come on? What was more insulting? The fact that she turned and asked my boss if I was English, or that fact that she used 'c'est' (it) rather than 'she' or even that I didn't actually get angry until I thought about it. It's happened before (I may or may not have blogged about it about it happening in a lav-matic a few years ago) but seriously, I just helped this woman, and I was standing right in front of her. I can accept 'oooh, you're English, where abouts?' and I've even known to crack a smile for 'oh, it's not only the products that have been exported' but just don't insult my intelligence by asking my boss if I'm English when I've just helped you choose your Baked Beans. OK?

Bouche Cousue

Things are fine here, and despite what the lack of blogging suggests, I actually have loads of things to blog about but alas, can't because it is all job related.

Working has opened my eyes to a lot of things, exposed me to loads of experiences (good and bad) and has confirmed above all that teaching is not for me. It's been heaven not preparing lessons and even though I work all day saturday which is a bummer, I'm all up for going out in the evening - that never happened even when I was teaching.

All in all, I'm a lot better - my mood is infinitively better, I have more energy and I cope much more with everyday tasks. All these things were difficult a few months ago. J has seen a huge difference in me too and the dynamics between us have totally changed for the better!

Being bouche cousue about my job is quite hard. Working in a shop that sells British products provides masses of sketch show material....I'm compiling it as I speak!! Try explainig Marmite or Jelly or Lemon Curd to a very suspicious audience.... or that there are many types of curries......or most annoyingly that Le Welsh is uuur, Welsh and not English and that cheddar is not orange. Don't even ask me how I'm coping with my nationality. I just say 'oui' when I am asked 200 times a day 'Are you 'anglaise'. Sometimes a girl has to accept defeat.

The perils of food shopping in the rain

This is quite possibily my least favourite activity and one in which I have just gone through, with predictable outcomes. I'm soaked, clammy, have sore arms and am rather cheesed off.

You see, the formula goes like this: heavy bags x waiting for bus + attempting to maintain balance with said heavy bags whilst on bus = no fun at all. Added to this is the fact that the buses become saturated with people when it's raining and the floors get slippery and aggghhhh. Has anyone noticed how people smell worse in the rain too? It's like wet dog syndrome. As well as being up close and personal with people you'd much rather not be, you get to smell their wet cigarette smokey coats or damp leather jackets, or worse. yuck.

I'm just thankful it's not a permament occurence. It's just it's happening a lot recently as J is away all week long with work and will be for weeks to come.

One consolation today - at least I now have something nice to eat for tea!! Just got to dry out beforehand to enjoy it!

One of those (good) days...

At the weekend, J's brother, girlfriend and 17 month old baby C came to visit for the holidays. It was a big event considering they live the other end of France now and only come back for holidays. C got baptised in the summer and as a lot of the family couldn't go (too far) J's mum decided to celebrate their arrival this time around.

So, on Sunday, 32 of us piled into the dining room for 4.30pm precise and we ate 'navettes' (long sandwich rolls - ham, cheese and paté bien sur) and had yummy cake and champagne. I used to get overwhelmed at family events but I cope great now following conversations and chatting away to my neighbour. And I didn't even think about having to bise 31 people.....haha

I am still amazed at how big J's family is. 32 was just the close family - and J's mum is an only child! If I had the same party in the UK, we would be 14 - including aunts, uncles, cousins and babies (and me and J!)

I was also amazed to see how baby C is developing. I last saw him two months ago and he's now started to talk - he knows me and calls me 'tata' (auntie). Coming from a tiny family, I've never had the experience of babies that know who you are and it really touched me. Much more so as it's in French, in France, in my new life that I'm creating for myself. If ever there was a moment where I realised that I'm here, that I'm doing it in France, it was the moment I heard C call me tata. *grin*

When did you realise you were 'doing it' in France?