Well
this blog post has certainly been a long time coming. One thing I
didn’t expect from working the whole 9-5 office life is how busy and
exhausted I feel, even with no homework at the end of the day! Plus
there is the fact that I have been actively engaging in the plethora of
happy hour deals offered all around the city, so I don’t really get home
until 11 or so... All in all, the working life in paris isn’t too bad. I
feel like I’m getting to see another version of the city. I’ve done the
student life - late nights, libraries, school admin, coffee from the
vending machines and apartment parties. Then I’ve done the
nannying/family life - waiting outside of schools, holding hands on the
crosswalk, helping with homework and playing legos in family apartments.
Now I’ve entered into working life. So far this has composed itself of -
morning showers and ironing dress shirts, notetaking and handshaking,
sitting in cafés for lunches and coffees, and craving a beer at 5 pm
sharp. With the light lasting until 10:30 PM, and when we get a break
from the rain that refuses to leave paris for good, getting drinks with friends in a café and watching the sunset is about as good as it
gets.
Working
at the senate wavers between being insanely cool and horribly
terrifying. First and foremost, I spent all of my time before my
internship started agonizing over what I was going to wear. Living in
Paris, one of the most expensive places in the world, working at the
senate, one of the shmaniciest institutions in the city, and having
hardly a euro-penny to my name, did not make for a quality combination.
All I can say is, thank you zara, for dressing me head to toe. Now I’m
going to add, as of last wednesday, thank you city-wide,
nationally-mandated sales, for helping me look like something other than
a walking zara advertisement. The point is that since I put all of my
stress into my clothing options, I failed to recognize what should have
been a much more pressing worry, the fact that my office will operate
entirely in french. As in, I should probably have started to prepare in
some way to be dealing with people in french without having a panic
attack over every email. But oh no, I just wanted to look good.
This little rant is the product of my first few weeks in the office when I realized, hey now, I am still struggling to learn this language. My boss is a diplomat by profession, only working in the senate for the next few years and he was previously posted in London for four years so we work together in English (in case anyone was getting too impressed here, and thinking I was working in French). Here comes the problem. I have been living in Paris for the past year, and going to school in French. I have been reading and writing french, talking french (mostly at night, on da streets) and I have slowly been growing in confidence that I can, one day, claim to master this language. Then I entered the senate. While I understand next to 100% of what people say to me, say in meetings, and say officially, I am entirely helpless in conversations between the advisors. Just picture me on my first day, the small 21 year old American girl sitting at lunch surrounded by 40+ year old politologues speaking in super fast, casual (but different kind of casual or slang than younger folk), and heavily-referenced french about super complex inter-party dynamics of the french socialist party. Or conservative party. Or communist party. Not only did I have trouble following the language, new vocabulary, fancier syntax, but I had no idea who they were talking about! Names going back right and left, many of them first name references only that apparently needed no more introduction than “Hèlene, friends with Theirry,” or “Sciences Po with Andrè.” Even getting that much was lucky. When we left the meeting François, my boss, turned to me apologetically and said, “Sorry about that, it was like a French West Wing in there, huh.” Gulp.
This little rant is the product of my first few weeks in the office when I realized, hey now, I am still struggling to learn this language. My boss is a diplomat by profession, only working in the senate for the next few years and he was previously posted in London for four years so we work together in English (in case anyone was getting too impressed here, and thinking I was working in French). Here comes the problem. I have been living in Paris for the past year, and going to school in French. I have been reading and writing french, talking french (mostly at night, on da streets) and I have slowly been growing in confidence that I can, one day, claim to master this language. Then I entered the senate. While I understand next to 100% of what people say to me, say in meetings, and say officially, I am entirely helpless in conversations between the advisors. Just picture me on my first day, the small 21 year old American girl sitting at lunch surrounded by 40+ year old politologues speaking in super fast, casual (but different kind of casual or slang than younger folk), and heavily-referenced french about super complex inter-party dynamics of the french socialist party. Or conservative party. Or communist party. Not only did I have trouble following the language, new vocabulary, fancier syntax, but I had no idea who they were talking about! Names going back right and left, many of them first name references only that apparently needed no more introduction than “Hèlene, friends with Theirry,” or “Sciences Po with Andrè.” Even getting that much was lucky. When we left the meeting François, my boss, turned to me apologetically and said, “Sorry about that, it was like a French West Wing in there, huh.” Gulp.
Thus
this summer quickly turned into: The Summer that Ariella Learns French
Fluently and with Grace until she turn into a
Perfectly-French-Speaking-Fairy-Princess. How is it going, you may ask?
Swimmingly! Really, I’m delving into a lot of grammatical things that I
never understood and never bothered to understand. I’m taking french
lessons twice a week and learning SO MUCH, but mostly about how the
french I “knew” is more just the french I casually made up and no one
corrected me on. At first was very demoralizing - there’s nothing worse
than losing confidence in your language skills. Especially when you work
in a french office. But slowly and surely I’m getting there. I’ve made
the stupidest mistakes, been asked questions in french (in front of
everyone) and looked back blankly, and today even wished someone “Good
Afternoon” at 10 am. So, it’s a process. But I am having less of those
moments when you’re trying to say something, start to falter half-way
through only to trip up on the hard french “r” and end up red-faced and
spitting, like an angry cat (to the great discomfort of all parties
involved). So that says something, right? In all seriousness, I’m
advancing, figuring out how to write fancy french emails and can read
with practically no difficulty at all. I’m not quite at the Fairy
Princess part, but I’m definitely not the frog! Chuckle. (More than just
a terrible allusion, this is also a reference to a fun bar in Paris
called Princess and the Frog! Aren’t I too cool?!)
So
those are my thoughts on french. I feel like that must be super boring
for all of you who just read it, so as a reward for getting to this
point (or for having the courage to skip down to here) I will try to
think of fun things I’ve been doing. Here’s a list (because my witty,
running commentary is running low): I’ve been wandering along the seine
thinking of plans for next year and beyond, going to bars that Hemingway
frequented (and paying way too much to do so), drinking wine in front
of the Eiffel Tower with wonderful friends from CC. I’ve been
shamelessly flashing pedestrians as I hop on and off rent-a-bikes,
making best friends with all of the senate secretaries, and getting used
to eating lunches alone in the gardens. I’ve been going to conferences
on women’s rights, discovering the nuances of the stylish pant suit
(taking notes from Hillary), and enjoying verre upon verre of free
champagne at work events. I’ve been perusing city sales, meeting young
professionals, and listening to live music on the streets. I’ve been
refusing to clean my apartment, while simultaneously trying to keep out
my ever-unpleasant, mousey guests (what can I say? They can’t seem to
get enough of me.) I’ve been discovering addicting tv shows (Game of
thrones anyone?) during the rare down moment, and planning end-of-summer
trips to London, Austria and maybe even Tunisia. I’ve been dreaming and
drinking and pretending that exercise is too “American” to indulge in
while here. I’ve been counting down the days until I’ll be in Squam Lake
in NH, and pressing down the simmering panic that my time here is
coming to an end. I’ve been failing to write any blog posts and then when I do,
writing them in a horribly stiff poetic format to boot!!!
I
hope this blog was sufficiently thrilling for you all out there,
despite the fact that I feel like it didn’t really say anything at
all...I’m thinking I’ve got one more year-abroad post in me before I go,
but I wouldn’t hold my breath.
Gros bisous mes amis, et pour la plupart de vous, à bientôt!
