For example:
-The lady at the bank who spoke slowly for us when opening accounts and welcomed us to Reims, the morning after we'd arrived. She recognizes us every time we go into the bank now and will usually check with us before helping others in line to make sure we're settled.
-Our charming waiters at the several brasseries we've visited, one of whom greeted us in English (that obvious?) and was pleasantly surprised and obliging when we requested that the conversation continue in French. Everyone seems so amused and pleased that we "speak" French- I just worry about the professors who have no financial interest in making us smile.
-The older gentleman in front of us in Orange (France Telecom) who spent half an hour talking with me about the French. Memorable moment: his telling us how many Rémois (citizens of Reims) leave their dogs out on the street when they go on vacation. He then joked that he does the same thing with his wife *oh my!*
-The agents, especially Céline, at Brooks who spent vast amounts of time helping us look at apartments (the keys to which they entrusted to us with just an ID and a smile). Then when our first choice (which was really not that great) was taken, she felt so bad that she called for an apartment that wasn't technically available yet. It ended up being a great place! Then the woman who went over our lease with us spoke "doucement" and reviewed key terms with us. The best part is- most agencies don't rent to foreigners without French guarantors, Mme Madeira called it a "petit cadeau." (little gift)
-Conforama staff who unintentionally saved us 80 euro. We had to rent their van, which is only available for an hour for 20 euro. For each additional 15 min after that it's supposed to be somewhere around 10 euros. The first warehouse employee loaded our stuff into the van, checked it out and chatted with me about school, insisting that I try the food in France because it's the best in the world (well duh!). We then had to go to another depot to pick other things up where they were supposed to write down our time of departure, but didn't do so even at my discreet prompting, so we were able to get other things we needed, unload our stuff and drive back. We felt bad being dishonest, so I explained that the departure time hadn't been filled in, but instead of charging us anyway, the woman at the desk wrote in that we'd been gone for 40 minutes, instead of 3 hours... We then were shuffled back to the warehouse employee who seemed pleased/surprised that the van had not been scratched, was impressed we'd moved everything ourselves (where were our "hommes forts" -strong men- he wondered? Aux Etats-Unis, we sadly replied), and reminded me to try the food. Yes, sir!
-In the middle of all of that picking up of furniture, I realized that I hadn't the faintest clue how to drive a big, manual transmission van in reverse (I'd only had to pull out and park before going to the next store). I was absolutely mortified and tried checking the ambiguous owner's manual before getting the guts to ask a woman with her two sons to help me. She hopped right into the van (no small feat for someone who was probably about 5' and 150 lbs) and showed me. When I thanked her profusely, she just shrugged and said it happens to everyone.
-The charming bakery people around the corner who seem to have begun to recognize us when we come in for one of several of our baguettes every day.
Now that I've finished my Oscar length thank-you list... I have just one complaint. The supermarkets are no fun at all! There aren't nearly as many options for things like vegetables (which we were dying for when we moved in after a week of mainly cheap carbs), even in cans or jars. My next step is to figure out where the markets are and to hope I can find some frequently enough to avoid cramming our tiny fridge with fresh produce that I've stocked up.
I'll post some pictures of food and our apartment next.
A bientôt!
No comments:
Post a Comment