I realize it has been a long time since I last posted, but I've been really busy. As many of you know I am working on my dissertation which takes up a lot of my time. Throw into the mix my 20 hours per week in class learning French plus my research positions with professors at the University of North Texas my time is limited. But this is changing. Next weekend Angela and I are going to the Alps, which will be a nice beginning to Spring. We now have trips planned to Rome, Monaco, London, Sicily, Andorra, Barcelona and Dublin, which should be a blast.
My French is coming along, I just finished what would be the equivalent of 2 semesters of college French in the US. I'm still having a lot of trouble understanding when people speak, but I can form sentences, read simple French fairly well and write very simply. I am basically the equivalent of a 3 or 4 year old French child, maybe a stupid 5 year old.
In order to get my visa validated so that I can stay in France for more than 3 months I had to fill out some paperwork, and buy a 55 Euro stamp (un cinquante-cinq Euro timbre). These stamps are the French government's way of imposing taxes. In order to do certain things you have to buy the stamp, if you have the stamp you've paid your tax. It's really quite efficient. This is particularly true since you can usually buy them at a Tabac. The problem is that Tabacs don't seem to carry the 55 Euro stamp, so I had to go to the treasury. I went at around 1pm to avoid crowds. I walked up to the Accueil desk (which is like the welcome desk) and two people were sitting at it. I said to them, "Je voudrais un cinquante-cinq euro tampon, s'il vous plait." The woman sitting at this desk started speaking to me in French, I nodded, and then she gave me a number and pointed to the seats. While she was doing this the other man, who looked like a cross between Ron Jeremy and a mailman (he was wearing a track suit at work) got up and walked away. I went to go sit in a chair when my number was called (I might add at this point I was the only person there). They went through all of the trouble of giving me a number rather than telling me I could go and talk to the person who can help me. My thought on this was, "well maybe the number has something to do with accounting what they do." Like, they have to do it so they can show their boss that they were in fact working, or so they can keep track of how many people come in, etc. I walk over to the worker who called my number, it was the same guy who had been sitting at the Accueil desk and had heard me ask for the 55 euro stamp. He looks right at me and asks me what he can do for me, making me labor through my French again, all the time knowing damn well exactly what it is that I want.
I have one last story, the one that corresponds with the title of this post. Yesterday I was riding the bus from our apartment to the nearest Metro stop. It's about a 12 minute ride from my bus stop to the Metro and there are about a half dozen stops in between. As the bus pulls up to the stop before the Metro and woman with Down Syndrome gets on the bus in nothing but her underwear and a t-shirt. I might add it was below freezing yesterday morning. She was shivering and crying. I was watching her hoping that somebody who speaks French would ask her if she is alright, but nobody did. In fact, people seemed to be moving away from her. Finally, I got up and walked over to her and in English asked her, "Are you okay?" I didn't understand her response except for the word, "non." As we pulled into the Metro stop I signaled for her to come with me. She followed me and I walked her over to some police. I told the police in English the situation and told them that I don't know what her problem is, but she is certainly distressed. A police officer who spoke some English told me that they would help her. I walked away and got on the Metro. I'm not writing this so people know how great I am for helping this woman, but rather to point out how shitty other people are. It really made me question people's humanity.
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