Encore Plus Fort....
Really, you wanted to know about my entry into France. How it's been. What I've done. Etc. Well there isn't really anything to tell. I'm here and I have an address.
I suppose that isn't interesting. Let me tell you then, just sit there for a moment, and let me tell you about "Ma Rentree En France."
You see. It all started with an extremely lonely plane ride from Dulles to Keflavik international airport -- that's Iceland. From Iceland I would head right into France with a plan to hit the concourse runnning. I had several things to do. First I had to go to campus to get paperwork settled for school and to get a dorm room. Then I had to go to the dorms and get the room so I had a home to stay in. This of course needed to be completely taken care of by 5 as afterward everyone shuts down for the weekend. Well, if everything didn't work out, I'd be out of a bed and on the streets for Friday night. So, just to be on the safe side I got a hotel room for Friday night-- I figured I could drop my luggage off there instead of dragging it all around campus, and if everything doesn't go as planned I'll have a place for the night and can figure out what to do from there. The plane landed at 1:00 in the afternoon on Friday, so I figured it would be a lot of rushing around, particularly after traveling so far and so long, but it'd be worth it to get settled in and have fewer worries for the weekend.
Planes were not pleasant, with screaming kids and some turbulence, but they were on time. Landing at 1 I didn't get out of the airport until about 1:50 and grabbed a taxi to take straight to the hotel, which can be found in Nanterre along with the University, but it wasn't next door or anything. So after my 40 minute cab ride, I was at the hotel. Checked in, dropped things off, and was out of the hotel and in another cab by 3:00. Turns out Nanterre is confusing and difficult to navigate, even with a GPS system and innate knowledge of the area -- either that or the driver was trying to really take me for a ride. As we made the same circle a second time, I drew his attention to this and got a few euro knocked off the bill. He was a nice kid, and played it as though it was tough to figure out how to get around which it really did seem confusing with signs pointing every which direction for the University. In any case, made it to campus. 3:30. Time's moving fast. Time to find the person in charge of the exchange. Batiment A, here I come.
I didn't have her office number, it wasn't in any information i could find, but Batiment A was about international exchanges and relations and all that business. Walked into Batiment A. There is an 'Accueil' (welcome) desk. I walked up to the welcome desk, relieved that I would be able to quickly and easily locate the office. Then I asked the desk for directions to her office, getting a confused look and eventually writing her name down on paper to try and be clear. Having no idea, and seemingly in disbelief that the person even existed the desk suggested I head into room A09, just around the corner.
This is one (of many) rooms for inscription (registering for your classes basically). Into the room I head, map of hte campus in hand, and high hopes in mind. Again I ask for the program director's office--again I give her name--again nobody has an idea of who or where she is. Not frustrated, but a little disappointed, the best advice I get is to head up to A103, apparently there is an international relations office there. Up the stairs I head...it seems like twice as many stairs as necessary for one flight, but after those 40 steps, I arrive at the first floor. (In France (and other countries I'm sure), the ground floor is either 0 or the rez-de-chausee, and the floors begin counting as you go up and thus the first floor is the first floor up from the ground.) A handwritten sign is on the door of room 103, "For exchange students incriptions, go to room C12." (It may have been C13, I don't remember that well.) Batiment C, here I come.
Confident of the room, and confident I would not find who I was looking for, I headed to Batiment C. Here I would find a collection of 17-20 year old boys and girls who seem to be somewhat in charge of explaining inscriptions and campus life to any foreign students walking in and trying to get their business organized. Well, I could care less about 99% of what was going on, I really just wanted to find the office or the person I needed. Thus, I ask two people that weren't helping anyone at the moment. As to be expected there is a certain consistency with people, as nobody has any idea of who the person is. Never even heard of her. Awesome. They were kind enough to give me a sheet of orange paper--a sort of hall pass to get around and to go directly to a building or office without being stopped by the numerous security guards standing around smoking. Apparently they ensure only so many people are in a building at a time...with the thousands of students trying to register, it makes some sense. Now I can blow right by everybody. I have a little sheet of paper, signed and ready to go. It gets me directly to ... A09. Batiment A, here I...
I knew there was something more to A09, then was being let on. Back to A09 I head. It's been engaging, and I am learning the lay of the campus. At least, I know where buildings A, B, and C are all located. They are all, also connected--but the doors between them are all locked at this point. Don't need any drifters I guess. Into A09. I'm not sure even what to ask. I ask the same question again. Next they ask what it is she does; I explain the general exchange program. I explain that there wasn't anyone in 103, but a sign that says C12. Suddenly the kid remembered something. C12 is where the inscriptions are being done for foreign exchanges. I should head there. I just came from there. No, he's sure someone there can help me. Batiment C...
Batiment C will not be of any help, again. Into C12 I walked. Apparently the director is either a missing person or a complete figment of my imagination. And despite the surprising friendliness of people, nobody is able to help. I'm slowly explaining to a girl who looks to be 15ish who I'm looking for and what she does. Then a security guard comes in, asking about where I needed to be (probably a result of having seen the same guy walk back and forth a couple times now. He asks what I was looking for. Back to A09 I go. Batiment A.
In A09. Nothing to say. Nothing to do. A third person asks to help me. Still no clue who the person is. Still the best that can be suggested is C12. This person has to exist. They have to be around. Someone has to know her. I tried A103 again. Knocked harder this time. Was convinced that everyone is at C12. I'm at a loss. Batiment C.
Between A and C is B, locked off but with people in the front doing some kind of student help. I dragged my feet, step by step, headed toward Batiment C, again. Constantly looking around for some other kind of clue, some large, neon sign that tells me which way to go. Then, as I'm dragging my feet, searching, struggling, a ray of light that is another student asks if I need help. Yes. Yes I did. She asked who I was looking for. I told her. It was fantastic. She had no idea who the person was. What she did know was a big help though, as I explained that the director helped with international relations the helper explained to me that "International Relations" was in Batiment L. What? No wonder nobody has heard of the person I'm looking for. She doesn't exist in these buildings, she must be in Batiment L. A clear and fortunate explanation of all my wasted efforts. It was tough, but I was finally headed somewhere. Across campus was but a stroll in comparison to those long trips between A and C because I had a new found spring in my step. A step that would take me to resolution and eventually a dormitory. Yes. Batiment L, here I come!
On the other side of campus, past buildings G, E, and F, and not even close to A, B, C, D, or DD, was Batiment L just waiting to help me. Into Batiment L I go. To the Accueil desk, I'm looking for the international relations department. A gentleman tells me to go past room R07 and to the left. Wait. R07? What? How did I not end up in L? For whatever reasons, I was in L, but they also have R numbered rooms. Sure. Also, apparently the gentleman who told me left, really meant right. I get confused too, so I won't fault him. I'm on my way to success. After some brief confusion and being confused on my part, I found the international relations department. Oops. It was definitely the place for international relations, as in the study of international relations. Naturally, it figured. Definitely my fault on that one. Huh, well, I saw something on the ground floor that may have been helpful, so I'll go check it out. On the ground floor I found the French Language for Foreigners --they call it something else. But I thought, this is here and so the actual exchange people can't be far. I thought that they deal with a lot of exchange students, maybe, maybe someone will know where in Batiment L I can find my director. I ask the man who's hanging out. Finally. Yes. He has heard of the person I'm looking for. He has heard of her, he has dealt with her, and he knows where her office is. This is the best news I've had all day. And so off I go, unsure of what to expect, to A - 1 - 0 - 3. Batiment A, I'm coming for blood.
A103. I have confidence it's the right place. I don't know what will have changed between the minute I first got there, and now, but something has. Possibly just in me, 'cause I'm definitely getting tired, frustrated, and hungry. Back to Batiment A. Into Batiment A, past the security guards and up the unnecessary flights of stairs to A103. I'm there. It's the same. Same handwritten sign and same unhelpful everything around it. That man was certain, certain that it was 103. Yeah, he mentioned it was right around A103. Wait, there is another 103, there's an A103A, and an A103B. A103A clearly says something about physical sciences though. Whatever. I knocked to see if anyone was in A103A. There were. I asked if they knew the director. They didn't. I asked if they had an idea of where I should be looking. The friendly, and round physics teacher told me exactly where to go. A104.
A103, and A104 are in the corner together. A103 on one side, the left side, and A104 on the other side, the right side. Turns out 104 is very nearly, exaclty the place I had been looking for. There is a sign, explaining who is in the office and that the office handles international relations e.g. exchanges. Sweet. Still, again, I was tired, and frustrated, and naturally the person I'm looking for was not actually on this list. Still not the right place. I'm tired. I'm done. I'm walking away dejected and heartbroken and seeing that on the same wall of 104 is 106. A106. Same titles and function, international relations. But new people. Here she was. Finally. I found her name, First Initial, Period, Last Name. It was incredible. And like a light of glory, with little hope left. It is 4:55. No way. I can't make it in time. Well, maybe if I can get through this quickly, and have the director help me a little, I can get the directrice at the dorms to stay a little late and be super nice and give me a place to stay. There's still a chance!
My plane landed at 1:00 p.m., giving me a possible afternoon to get things done. It was a lot of running around, and my chances were slim to none at this point. Truly, I didn't expect much either. Nothing against the French, but they are known (in my mind) for closing their doors early, not giving a darn, and ensuring that they are home by 5, as opposed to just leaving at 5. I can assure you, that was not the case here. I gave the door a solid knock; one that says I'm here and I have a reason to be. As I waited for some answer I was checking out the signs around the door, some handwritten, some general college campus ads, and one that told me the office hours. It closes at 12:30 on Fridays.
I miss Helga, a lot.
Law.
Really, you wanted to know about my entry into France. How it's been. What I've done. Etc. Well there isn't really anything to tell. I'm here and I have an address.
I suppose that isn't interesting. Let me tell you then, just sit there for a moment, and let me tell you about "Ma Rentree En France."
You see. It all started with an extremely lonely plane ride from Dulles to Keflavik international airport -- that's Iceland. From Iceland I would head right into France with a plan to hit the concourse runnning. I had several things to do. First I had to go to campus to get paperwork settled for school and to get a dorm room. Then I had to go to the dorms and get the room so I had a home to stay in. This of course needed to be completely taken care of by 5 as afterward everyone shuts down for the weekend. Well, if everything didn't work out, I'd be out of a bed and on the streets for Friday night. So, just to be on the safe side I got a hotel room for Friday night-- I figured I could drop my luggage off there instead of dragging it all around campus, and if everything doesn't go as planned I'll have a place for the night and can figure out what to do from there. The plane landed at 1:00 in the afternoon on Friday, so I figured it would be a lot of rushing around, particularly after traveling so far and so long, but it'd be worth it to get settled in and have fewer worries for the weekend.
Planes were not pleasant, with screaming kids and some turbulence, but they were on time. Landing at 1 I didn't get out of the airport until about 1:50 and grabbed a taxi to take straight to the hotel, which can be found in Nanterre along with the University, but it wasn't next door or anything. So after my 40 minute cab ride, I was at the hotel. Checked in, dropped things off, and was out of the hotel and in another cab by 3:00. Turns out Nanterre is confusing and difficult to navigate, even with a GPS system and innate knowledge of the area -- either that or the driver was trying to really take me for a ride. As we made the same circle a second time, I drew his attention to this and got a few euro knocked off the bill. He was a nice kid, and played it as though it was tough to figure out how to get around which it really did seem confusing with signs pointing every which direction for the University. In any case, made it to campus. 3:30. Time's moving fast. Time to find the person in charge of the exchange. Batiment A, here I come.
I didn't have her office number, it wasn't in any information i could find, but Batiment A was about international exchanges and relations and all that business. Walked into Batiment A. There is an 'Accueil' (welcome) desk. I walked up to the welcome desk, relieved that I would be able to quickly and easily locate the office. Then I asked the desk for directions to her office, getting a confused look and eventually writing her name down on paper to try and be clear. Having no idea, and seemingly in disbelief that the person even existed the desk suggested I head into room A09, just around the corner.
This is one (of many) rooms for inscription (registering for your classes basically). Into the room I head, map of hte campus in hand, and high hopes in mind. Again I ask for the program director's office--again I give her name--again nobody has an idea of who or where she is. Not frustrated, but a little disappointed, the best advice I get is to head up to A103, apparently there is an international relations office there. Up the stairs I head...it seems like twice as many stairs as necessary for one flight, but after those 40 steps, I arrive at the first floor. (In France (and other countries I'm sure), the ground floor is either 0 or the rez-de-chausee, and the floors begin counting as you go up and thus the first floor is the first floor up from the ground.) A handwritten sign is on the door of room 103, "For exchange students incriptions, go to room C12." (It may have been C13, I don't remember that well.) Batiment C, here I come.
Confident of the room, and confident I would not find who I was looking for, I headed to Batiment C. Here I would find a collection of 17-20 year old boys and girls who seem to be somewhat in charge of explaining inscriptions and campus life to any foreign students walking in and trying to get their business organized. Well, I could care less about 99% of what was going on, I really just wanted to find the office or the person I needed. Thus, I ask two people that weren't helping anyone at the moment. As to be expected there is a certain consistency with people, as nobody has any idea of who the person is. Never even heard of her. Awesome. They were kind enough to give me a sheet of orange paper--a sort of hall pass to get around and to go directly to a building or office without being stopped by the numerous security guards standing around smoking. Apparently they ensure only so many people are in a building at a time...with the thousands of students trying to register, it makes some sense. Now I can blow right by everybody. I have a little sheet of paper, signed and ready to go. It gets me directly to ... A09. Batiment A, here I...
I knew there was something more to A09, then was being let on. Back to A09 I head. It's been engaging, and I am learning the lay of the campus. At least, I know where buildings A, B, and C are all located. They are all, also connected--but the doors between them are all locked at this point. Don't need any drifters I guess. Into A09. I'm not sure even what to ask. I ask the same question again. Next they ask what it is she does; I explain the general exchange program. I explain that there wasn't anyone in 103, but a sign that says C12. Suddenly the kid remembered something. C12 is where the inscriptions are being done for foreign exchanges. I should head there. I just came from there. No, he's sure someone there can help me. Batiment C...
Batiment C will not be of any help, again. Into C12 I walked. Apparently the director is either a missing person or a complete figment of my imagination. And despite the surprising friendliness of people, nobody is able to help. I'm slowly explaining to a girl who looks to be 15ish who I'm looking for and what she does. Then a security guard comes in, asking about where I needed to be (probably a result of having seen the same guy walk back and forth a couple times now. He asks what I was looking for. Back to A09 I go. Batiment A.
In A09. Nothing to say. Nothing to do. A third person asks to help me. Still no clue who the person is. Still the best that can be suggested is C12. This person has to exist. They have to be around. Someone has to know her. I tried A103 again. Knocked harder this time. Was convinced that everyone is at C12. I'm at a loss. Batiment C.
Between A and C is B, locked off but with people in the front doing some kind of student help. I dragged my feet, step by step, headed toward Batiment C, again. Constantly looking around for some other kind of clue, some large, neon sign that tells me which way to go. Then, as I'm dragging my feet, searching, struggling, a ray of light that is another student asks if I need help. Yes. Yes I did. She asked who I was looking for. I told her. It was fantastic. She had no idea who the person was. What she did know was a big help though, as I explained that the director helped with international relations the helper explained to me that "International Relations" was in Batiment L. What? No wonder nobody has heard of the person I'm looking for. She doesn't exist in these buildings, she must be in Batiment L. A clear and fortunate explanation of all my wasted efforts. It was tough, but I was finally headed somewhere. Across campus was but a stroll in comparison to those long trips between A and C because I had a new found spring in my step. A step that would take me to resolution and eventually a dormitory. Yes. Batiment L, here I come!
On the other side of campus, past buildings G, E, and F, and not even close to A, B, C, D, or DD, was Batiment L just waiting to help me. Into Batiment L I go. To the Accueil desk, I'm looking for the international relations department. A gentleman tells me to go past room R07 and to the left. Wait. R07? What? How did I not end up in L? For whatever reasons, I was in L, but they also have R numbered rooms. Sure. Also, apparently the gentleman who told me left, really meant right. I get confused too, so I won't fault him. I'm on my way to success. After some brief confusion and being confused on my part, I found the international relations department. Oops. It was definitely the place for international relations, as in the study of international relations. Naturally, it figured. Definitely my fault on that one. Huh, well, I saw something on the ground floor that may have been helpful, so I'll go check it out. On the ground floor I found the French Language for Foreigners --they call it something else. But I thought, this is here and so the actual exchange people can't be far. I thought that they deal with a lot of exchange students, maybe, maybe someone will know where in Batiment L I can find my director. I ask the man who's hanging out. Finally. Yes. He has heard of the person I'm looking for. He has heard of her, he has dealt with her, and he knows where her office is. This is the best news I've had all day. And so off I go, unsure of what to expect, to A - 1 - 0 - 3. Batiment A, I'm coming for blood.
A103. I have confidence it's the right place. I don't know what will have changed between the minute I first got there, and now, but something has. Possibly just in me, 'cause I'm definitely getting tired, frustrated, and hungry. Back to Batiment A. Into Batiment A, past the security guards and up the unnecessary flights of stairs to A103. I'm there. It's the same. Same handwritten sign and same unhelpful everything around it. That man was certain, certain that it was 103. Yeah, he mentioned it was right around A103. Wait, there is another 103, there's an A103A, and an A103B. A103A clearly says something about physical sciences though. Whatever. I knocked to see if anyone was in A103A. There were. I asked if they knew the director. They didn't. I asked if they had an idea of where I should be looking. The friendly, and round physics teacher told me exactly where to go. A104.
A103, and A104 are in the corner together. A103 on one side, the left side, and A104 on the other side, the right side. Turns out 104 is very nearly, exaclty the place I had been looking for. There is a sign, explaining who is in the office and that the office handles international relations e.g. exchanges. Sweet. Still, again, I was tired, and frustrated, and naturally the person I'm looking for was not actually on this list. Still not the right place. I'm tired. I'm done. I'm walking away dejected and heartbroken and seeing that on the same wall of 104 is 106. A106. Same titles and function, international relations. But new people. Here she was. Finally. I found her name, First Initial, Period, Last Name. It was incredible. And like a light of glory, with little hope left. It is 4:55. No way. I can't make it in time. Well, maybe if I can get through this quickly, and have the director help me a little, I can get the directrice at the dorms to stay a little late and be super nice and give me a place to stay. There's still a chance!
My plane landed at 1:00 p.m., giving me a possible afternoon to get things done. It was a lot of running around, and my chances were slim to none at this point. Truly, I didn't expect much either. Nothing against the French, but they are known (in my mind) for closing their doors early, not giving a darn, and ensuring that they are home by 5, as opposed to just leaving at 5. I can assure you, that was not the case here. I gave the door a solid knock; one that says I'm here and I have a reason to be. As I waited for some answer I was checking out the signs around the door, some handwritten, some general college campus ads, and one that told me the office hours. It closes at 12:30 on Fridays.
I miss Helga, a lot.
Law.
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