When comparing our lives here in the south of France to our lives in San Francisco & New York, it's no surprise that there are many major differences, but sometimes it's the little differences that we notice.
Maybe it's just the town where we live (Pézenas, in the Hérault, Languedoc-Rousillon), but it's very common to hear people whistling as they walk down the street. I can't remember the last time I heard anyone in the U.S. whistle. Maybe it's just easier to hear when there isn't constant noise from traffic, & I'm sure the sound bounces off the old stone buildings, but I don't think that's the reason. I think it's just that whistling is a forgotten art in the U.S. (& likely elsewhere as well). Hearing someone whistling a tune as they go about their daily activities brings a smile to my face.
French kids seem to have a different approach to playing -- they actually interact with one another, run, kick a soccer ball, laugh, etc. American kids seem glued to their TV/computer/video games/electronic devices or are reliant on organized activities & have lost the art of pure play. It's quite common to see very young (3 or 4 years old) children riding a 2-wheel bike without training wheels. I can't imagine an American parent even thinking of allowing that. In fact, I'm sure they don't even make 2-wheel bikes that small in the States. It's pretty rare to see anyone -- adult or child -- wearing a helmet while riding a bike, & there are definitely no laws requiring them.
Speaking of youngsters, most American parents wean their tykes off the pacifiers (dummy or soother to you Brits) at a fairly young age -- not here. Seeing a child of around 5 or 6 with a Nuk in his mouth would be considered strange in the US, but not in France. I wonder what it does to the way their front teeth come in.
......and then there's the dog poo. Sigh...... I cannot fathom why people who are otherwise clean, sometimes fastidious, allow their pooches to leave little "gifts" whenever & wherever they please. Hasn't anyone heard of picking up after their dog? The worst was when I was leaving the house one day, & just as I was about to put my foot down I noticed (just in time!) that some pooch had left a gift for us, smack-dab at the bottom of our front step. Ugh!! If you're not going to clean up, please do not allow Fifi or Fido to poop right in someone's doorway. People around here probably think I'm rude or highly introverted because when I walk I generally look down hoping to spot every pile of poop before my foot finds it. A friend sent me this image & it's so true!
Vive la différence?
What little differences have you noticed?
One thing I've learned after living in France for over 2 1/2 years is that things here can be inconsistent, especially when it comes to the French bureaucracy. As an American, it is necessary for me to register with the government to obtain a Carte de Séjour -- a residence permit. My first permit was issued in early 2012, not long after we arrived in France. If you wish, you can read the blog post about getting my first Carte de Séjour: Titre de Séjour -- I'm Official!
My first card was due to expire in April 2013, so in January it was time to start gathering the paperwork I'd need for the renewal. In France, each préfecture -- the administrative office for a region -- does things a bit differently. Here in the Hérault, one makes appointments online, which is a great means of avoiding having to queue up early & stand for hours, hoping to see the right person before the office closes for the day. From the stories I've heard from people living in other parts of France, this is a huge advantage.
Once the appointment was set it was time to get my dossier together, so I went in search of the correct document checklist. The préfecture's website has nearly 50 different checklists, & that's just in the étrangers (foreigners) section of the site. I went through the list repeatedly, & finally narrowed it down to a small handful, but I still wasn't sure which was correct, so I asked a friend who understands French better than I do & who has had more experience with the infamous French bureaucracy, & she was not sure either. Between us, we made our best guess. I had nearly 1 month to get my paperwork in order.
The appointment was set for the day before we left for a holiday in Morocco, so the days leading up to the appointment were hectic. One thing I learned was that one should bring absolutely every piece of paper that could even remotely relate to the process, just in case the fonctionnaire deems it necessary, so every meeting at the préfecture means hauling multiple folders.
When my name was called, Chris & I went in to the small office with the woman who would -- hopefully -- approve the renewal of my card for another year. It turns out I had printed the incorrect checklist, but instead of sending me home with a scolding, she simply went into her computer & used the online version of the list & entered all my information directly. So far, so good. She started coughing, so I offered her a mint for her throat, she accepted with a smile, & then she happily went along, entering my information. In France, small courtesies can go a long way.
In under 30 minutes we were done, keeping fingers crossed that all would be okay. If there was any document we had not provided, or something that needed to be translated, they would let us know by mail (using the stamped, self addressed envelope I provided, saving the government a few centimes). We were very lucky this time because the next notification I received was that my card was ready to be picked up when the old one expired, & I didn't have to pay for it. The card usually costs more than 100€, & this was a pleasant surprise. The only glitch was that I went to pick up the card on the exact day my old card expired, but the new one wasn't ready until after that date, so I had to make a 2nd trip to pick it up.
Fast forward to 2014.....As before, I made my appointment & printed off a checklist, gathered all the necessary documentation, & headed to Béziers for my appointment. This time we were greeted by a grumpy fonctionnaire & I could feel my palms getting sweaty & my heart racing because I was suddenly sure this was not going to go well. He seemed a bit perplexed because I don't fit into the typical immigrant status (American spouse of a citizen of the EU). He was so difficult to understand, both because of his strong regional accent & the fact that he mumbled, & I worried that he would think I was either an complete idiot or had absolutely no understanding of French (not that my French language skills are brilliant, mind you). He asked for something that wasn't on the checklist, but I came prepared & was able to give him what he needed.
About halfway through the appointment one of his colleagues came in to ask a question, the answer to which neither was really sure. They seemed to be making fun of another immigrant's situation, which really made me nervous, thinking what power this guy held over me, an immigrant in his country. Yikes!
At the end of the meeting we left & both of us were sure something would go wrong, but there was nothing to do but wait to see what news we would get in the mail. This time the news was even better -- no fee for the card, & it didn't have to be renewed for 3 years, in 2017! I have heard so many horror stories about dealing with the French bureaucracy, but I have to say that I have been pleasantly surprised each & every time, other than one slightly grumpy guy.
Someone, somewhere in France needs remedial training in the number of days in a month. From the perspective of a couple of non-natives, French prescription medications here are pre-packaged in quantities that don't always make sense. In the U.S. when the pharmacist fills the prescription, the prescribed quantity of pills (capsules, tablets, etc.) is counted out by hand or by machine & then put into the vial & labeled with dosing instructions. In France, with one exception, I've only seen pills that come pre-packed in small boxes with push-through inserts, such as the photo below (for a non-prescription medication). The exception was a medication that was pre-packaged in bottles, but this meant that to get the correct number of pills, I needed to buy two bottles, because one bottle did not have quite enough, & I was left with a nearly full bottle of pills after taking the prescribed dosage for the illness.
The packaging shown here is a waste for only 12 pills and it creates more for the landfills, but that is not really the issue. With prescription medications the quantities often don't make sense. For instance, when a doctor prescribes meds that are to be taken daily, the boxes contain either 28 or 30 pills. When looking at a calendar it quickly becomes obvious that there is only one month with 28 days, & only four with 30 days, which means that you will run short of pills in seven of the 12 months. The doctor writes the prescription for 3 months, so it generally necessitates quarterly trips to the doctor, which is reasonable. But, when the pills run out before the end of 3 months, this means that one has to go back to the doctor more frequently to get new prescriptions. Of course, one does not run out of all the pills at the same time, because each medication (& each brand of a particular medication) comes with a different number of pills.
In the grand scheme of things, it's not a huge issue, rather something a bit perplexing to someone not used to this system.
