The 4 plots I worked on

There were four plots of land that needed to be reworked. All but one had been used for gardening last year. The one exception had a lot more grass that was more deeply rooted – it proved very difficult to remove. Grass is seriously a force to be reckoned with – don’t let it get out of control! (It wasn’t until I began writing this blog post that I remembered I had already learned this lesson a few years ago when I was living in a house that had been uninhabited for a year or more and I had to de-weed the front and back yards. I definitely blocked those few days out of my memory!)

La grelinette on the really overgrown section

Anyways, with my trusty grelinette (brand name of the tool shown in these pics) and weed-wacker, I conquered most of the grass in these areas. Once everything was passed over with the grelinette, then I went back over each section and used a hoe (ha!) to render the earth finer. It was important that very few clumps of grass and roots were left behind to avoid any maivaises herbes popping up as things start growing and to make it easier for whoever will be using the grelinette next year!

Me using la grelinette

At first, I was very careful to wear gloves while working. When mixing up this earth that had been covered and rained on for several months, I encountered some yucky things – tons of worms, anthills, rotting plants, as well as some stray horseradish roots which went into the pantry. I didn’t want to touch any of it because I can be kind of squeamish. By the end, I was sitting in the dirt wearing shorts, using my bare hands to remove the plain dirt from the old grass. Sometimes, I’d pick up a worm or two. Just the week before, I would have freaked out and screamed, but by the end of my week on the farm I just tossed it aside. I think my initial squeamishness was just a question of not being familiar with the work. As soon as I had a little experience under my belt, I was no longer afraid. If only people in the world could undergo the same transformations regarding more serious topics than worms…

1st pass almost done

Gundula doing 2nd pass – you can see the difference between the darker dirt in front and the lighter dirt behind in which the clumps are still too thick

After all the earth had been worked (sometimes a third pass with the hoe was necessary to make sure the dirt was fine enough), I sprinkled compost all over the plots with a pitchfork (and sometimes my hands!). Then the fun part began. Gundula and Louise consulted last year’s garden map to ensure that the new plants wouldn’t be planted in a section where they had been planted last year. They sketched out the garden and we measured out some rows for the broccoli and leeks. Early in the week, we went to a local farmer’s market to pick up seedlings they had ordered from a local gardener a few months ago.

Compost sprinkled on top

Dirty hands – don’t care! Who am I?

The rest was easy: we dug holes for each seedling, sprinkled compost in each one, mixed it in with the dirt, and placed each seedling inside. After a little water for each plant, that was it! I was so happy to see the little tomato, lettuce, broccoli, and leek plants.

Tomatoes!

Broccoli and leeks with anti-hen fence erected

Working in the garden was so pleasant and gratifying. Some days it was a little rainy, but most days it was sunny and warm. The peaceful countryside was exactly the right antidote to the grating cacophony of the city – birds chirping, goats and cows bleating and mooing, the rooster crowing randomly, and one single car driving down our dead-end street, causing me to look up because I was noticing ONE vehicle (!!!), were all I heard.

The grelinette/hoe action was very meditative and difficult physically. I loved sweating and “earning” my big lunches and goûters with this work. Sometimes Gundula and Louise would join me, and we’d hang out and talk or just work together in silence. The hens and le coq would always come to eat the worms, and the dogs and cats would come to watch the action or sunbathe. My very favorite part of working in the garden was that without fail, within five minutes of beginning work, Lunette the cat would come find me and stay with me the whole time. She would rub my leg or the tools I was using – one time when I was squatting to dig a hole, she even climbed on my back and got comfy!

Lunette <3

As I was working, I kept thinking to myself, “I can’t believe farming used to all be done by hand!” This is just one tiny organic garden and I know that most produce being grown these days has a lot more machine help. But, I am glad I got to see how it feels to tend a garden by hand. It makes me appreciate food even more when I see how much hard work goes into creating it. It was also really exciting to see compost being put to use – I would put things in the green bin in the kitchen, empty that bin onto the compost heap outside, and right next to where I emptied it is where I would get wheelbarrows full of decomposed compost (redundant, but you get what I’m saying right?) to sprinkle on the garden. The circle of [plant] life!

Stay tuned for more posts about goats, cheese-making, and some visits to nearby towns!

What is wwoofing? World-wide opportunities on organic farms. Directly from their website, “WWOOF is an exchange – In return for volunteer help, WWOOF hosts offer food, accommodation and opportunities to learn about organic lifestyles.” The French wwoofing site works like this: you pay €30 for 1-year access to the catalogue of farms needing help. Then you can browse ads by department and contact the farmers directly. (Each country’s website is different so look at the first wwoof site I linked to for further information on countries other than France.) After sending out a ton of emails, I found a goat farm that had an opening for the dates I wanted to go.

A few hours after arriving from Paris, Louise asked me to lead the goats to the pasture. They kept bumping me and I was so scared! By the end I was petting them.

Having never worked on or really ever set foot on a farm, I had no expectations. My main goals for the experience were to learn about farming, do some real physical activity, and accomplish something. I didn’t expect to have such great conversations, eat such good meals, or learn so much.

The garden where I worked a lot, their house is behind the big tree.

From the minute I first met Gundula (German woman in her 50s), Louise (Dutch woman in her 50s), and Maëva (French woman, 25), I felt at ease and welcomed. They were so hospitable and treated me more like a guest than a volunteer. Soon after my arrival I found myself integrated into the routine of the farm.

The Routine of the Farm

between 5 and 6am: wake up. La Traite (the milking of the goats). Other things I don’t know about because I didn’t enter the routine until…
between 8-8:30am: breakfast. Homemade bread smeared with butter, homemade cheese, homemade jams, organic hazelnut spread, local artisanal honey, tea made by one of their local friends…
9am: clean la chèvrerie (the barn where the goats live). feed the goats. feed the other animals (1 horse, 2 pigs, male and baby goats). if it’s not raining, lead the goats to a pasture.
11am-2pm: miscellaneous activities that change daily. sometimes cheese-making, sometimes cleaning, repairs, gardening, cooking, host random visitors who came to buy goat milk, etc.
between 1 and 4pm: lunch. always a long, hot lunch of things grown on the farm or purchased locally with dessert and coffee at the end. then: work. same as miscellaneous activities above. go get the goats if they were in a pasture.
5:30pm: goûter (snack) – always a cake or cookie with tea or coffee.
6pm: feed the goats, La Traite.
8-9pm: showers, then dinner which consists of the same things as breakfast. always a matzah-like cracker spread with butter, fresh goat cheese, and jam or honey at the end (this is just a quirk of Louise and Gundula but I started doing it too). This is where my day ended.
10-??: Louise and Gundula continued working. feed the goats again. cheese-making. treat sick goats. etc.

The tree is a cherry tree! and behind it is my cozy little trailer “le caravan”

Having a farm is SO MUCH WORK. They have been doing this 7 days a week for the last 15 years with only a handful of instances where they’ve left the farm for a vacation. Because I have so much downtime in Paris, I relished the opportunity to sweat and actually accomplish things, but I can imagine that it gets really difficult to keep going after more than a few months. By Sunday I was already having a hard time staying energized and that was only after one week!

Left: la chevrerie. Right: baby goat house

I’m so glad I’m no longer ignorant of this lifestyle. There are farmers all over the world producing the food we need to survive, and without any connection to them it’s hard to be aware of the hard work they do and the sacrifices they make. No sick days for them, no Christmas bonuses…no real Christmas break either! The goats have to eat – constantly! The sad fact is that the financial compensation nowhere near matches the effort dispensed. Luckily, my hosts seemed to love what they do and were really committed to their lifestyle and career choices. Overall, they seemed really happy.

I loved being able to take part in such a local and organic-focused home. In my daily life, I do my best to stay away from food that has been transported very long distances and yes, I would prefer not to ingest a ton of pesticides and other chemicals with my food. However, most of the time this is not feasible in terms of my budget or surroundings. During these 9 days I was happy to be able to join in their lifestyle.

Coming soon: more posts and photos about my experience on the farm.

I am also applying to graduate school in Paris for fall 2013 and looking into some options in California as well. I am agonizing over the decision of what direction to go in after this summer – it’s a tough choice! After living somewhere for 2 years, it’s hard to pick up and leave. Actually, I’ll be honest, deciding how long to stay has been a decision that has plagued me since I arrived. My anxiety of “where to live, what to do” comes and goes but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be 100% happy where I am? Luckily I have some time until I have to make a final decision, so until then, I’m focusing on the fun stuff and enjoying myself!

Here’s what I’m loving lately…

1. Watching the snow melt (ok this was like a month ago but it’s still cool!)

2. Radishes as a snack

crunchy goodness

3. A fun party where I learned, and then forgot, some Portuguese. I do remember how to say cheers (saúde!) – an important word to know in any language, I say.

My friend Kat and I

4. I am a choir dork 4 lyfe

PCS for Paris Choral Society

5. Making a cake, forgetting the flour, covering the mistake in ganache. My tip for this cake, other than DON’T FORGET THE FLOUR, is to whip the egg whites when they are truly at room temperature. Mine whipped up in like one minute, it was amazing.

Ganache fixes all mistakes, right?

6. Velib!!! I feel like SUCH a baller biking around Paris. I biked home from class the other day – from St. Michel, past Notre Dame, all the way down Rue de Rivoli past the Louvre, through Place de la Concorde (still trying to figure out how to get through there without dying or having to walk my bike through crosswalks) and up the Champs-Élysées to chez moi. I don’t think I’ll ever have a commute like this again.

7. Been listening to a new-to-me fun French artist, discovered through an American friend.

8. Instead of using bookmarks on my browser, I started using Feedly to organize all my online reads. I’m into it! You can organize the sources you read in many different ways and it keeps all my mindless internet reading in one place so I can choose when to zone out online.

9. My old furniture was replaced with shiny new Ikea stuff! In case you are curious about what my apartment looks like, here are some pics. Sorry it’s not neater.

Entry

Bed

Table and new chairs

Kitchen area

Hi!

10. I had the pleasure of going to a gathering at a friend’s apartment in Montrouge, a city right outside Paris. They just opened up a new metro stop on the line 4 and I was SO excited to check it out! It’s so cool to imagine people in 100 years feeling about the Montrouge stop the way I feel about the older metro stations in Paris proper. Here are some pictures I took (I’m such a dork):

Bright and shiny

It’s so clean and bright!

So excited to be in a new metro station!

Clean white bench on a clean street

I become accustomed to the dirt, grime, and noise in Paris. Just beyond the Rue Périphérique, life is instantly calm and quiet. It’s nice to be in a big exciting city, but I’m happy to get out every once in awhile.

why hello there

Spiced Banana Bread
Adapted from here for the basic recipe and here for the spices

Ingredients

1.5 cups all-purpose flour, plus a tablespoon or two for dusting the pan
1/2 cup buckwheat flour
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 very ripe bananas, mashed into about 1.5 cups
1/4 cup plain yogurt
2 large eggs, beaten lightly
3/4 stick/6 tablespoons/85 g unsalted butter, melted and cooled, plus more for the pan
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or add 1 sachet de sucre vanille to the sugar measuring cup before you measure the normal sugar)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon pain d’épices mix (or 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, pinch of ground cloves, and a few grinds of black pepper)

1. Adjust an oven rack to the lower-middle position and preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9 by 5-inch loaf pan, then dust the pan with flour.
2. Mix the mashed bananas, yogurt, eggs, butter, and vanilla in a medium bowl.
3. Add the flours, sugar, baking soda, and salt to the wet mixture and mix until just combined.
4. Scrape into the prepared loaf pan. Bake 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into center comes out clean and top is brown.

This is what “mix until just combined” means

€18 for a clean, safe and big room

We arrived on Friday night close to midnight. A walk through the silent town in search of beer was unexpectedly relaxing for two parisiennes used to constant noise. The escape from the din of glass being recycled, squeaky bus breaks, and annoying accordian players in the metro definitely helped get rid of a back knot or two.

We walked until we found this bar with chill ambiance – can you spot me in the picture?

I asked the bartender for a good local beer, and she served me a Schwarz beer on tap. It was so good that I had to get a second one! It tastes very similar to Kozel Černý, the beer I loved drinking when I studied abroad in Prague. I thought Schwarz was a maker, but it turns out it’s just the type of beer, so unfortunately I can’t repeat the experience.

Saturday morning…

Walking the silent, tranquil streets early Saturday morning

One of many footbridges over the canals

The trams connect the city well – this one is in front of the theatre, I think.

This sleeping square was too cute.

Tiny alleys led off the main roads | It was common to see both German and French signs

“Today I’ll change the world”

I could have continued walking around and taking pictures all day. I just love seeing new places and despite the gray skies, everything was so beautiful and inspiring to me. There were so many cool little things I kept noticing everywhere and there were no tourists out at all. But, breakfast must not be missed, especially when traveling.

Kugelhopf and a cinnamon roll thing

More exploring in this very walkable town! Up first:  Cathédrale Notre Dame.  It’s a beautiful building!  I love the pink sandstone that gives it quite a different look from most cathedrals I’ve seen. 

The side of the cathedral

Notre Dame from front

The inside of Notre Dame

Light

Then…a climb up the tower to see the view. For a sixth-floor dweller like me, this was easy!

My foot on stairs – proof!

Getting towards top – reminds me of Prague!

Phoebe and I at top – it was snowing a bit and not super clear but still beautiful

The tippy top where the bell is

Back on flat ground, we continued exploring. The canals are beautiful and calm – you can run or bike along them, or sit and watch the ducks and swans float by.  There are little shopping areas and restaurants to be found everywhere, as well as residential neighborhoods. 

Many buildings in the town were in this style – I could stare at them all day every day

We rested under this tree for a bit.

Pretty soon we’d walked enough to get hungry – it was time for some choux-croute, basically hella flavorful saurkraut and sausage.   It’s a great meal to eat in cold weather. Pretty much every restaurant was serving it so we picked a random place in which to eat. We were served a vegetable soup that BLEW my mind with it’s flavor level. The secret ingredient was…choux croute!

During lunch, we decided to take a bus to Germany! It was only about 20 minutes away, so off we went to Kehl.

Wilkommen!

It was unnerving to walk into a bakery and realize I had no idea how to order strudel in German. Phoebe and I pooled our knowledge before the woman behind the counter came over to us and we managed to order zwei strudel, bitte! (Not schweine like I originally said, thank goodness for hand gestures and friendly German people.) It made me realize how comfortable I’ve gotten with the French language, but also reminded me of how exhilirating it is to have those small victories of accomplishing something in another language.

strudel!

Some more exploring:

I loved this little neighborhood

We found some structures and climbed them!

Walking back to the bus, we saw this flame thrower!

We headed back to Strasbourg for dinner (flamenkuchen – thin flatbreadish thing with cream, onions, and bacon and I got mine with cheese – DELICIOUS) and some more exploration before our late train back to Paris. I love traveling in such a low-key way, with less pressure to have The Best Trip Ever. The best part about living in Europe is that it’s so easy to get out of the town you are in and see a completely different place without spending too much money or taking too much time to arrive. I recommend Strasbourg, even if you are coming from far away.

This was my first time baking with buckwheat flour and I’m a convert! It has a deep and nutty flavor that plays well with the chestnut cream. Unlike all purpose flour which only serves to form other cookies, buckwheat flour becomes one of the main flavors of these cookies.

Ever since I first tried crème de marrons, I’ve wondered how it would taste in cookie form. I finally got around to testing it out, and I’m glad I did! I’ll warn you though: these are addictive!

Crème de Marrons Cookies with Fig Jam

Ingredients

1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup brown or white sugar
1 packet of vanilla sugar (optional)
1/2 cup crème de marrons
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla (if you have no vanilla sugar)
3/4 cup buckwheat flour
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
fig jam

Preheat oven to 350°F/180°C. Cream together the butter and sugar(s) until smooth. Add the crème de marrons and egg and mix until smooth – the batter might get weirdly lumpy but don’t panic. Add flours, baking powder, and salt and mix batter until combined. Roll dough into balls that are 1.5 inches in diameter and then chill the dough for at least 30 minutes. Bake cookies for 10 minutes. Remove from oven, and use a small spoon to create a dip in the top. Fill each indentation with fig jam. Return cookies to oven, making sure to rotate the pan the other way. Bake 7-10 more minutes, or until cookies are set and starting to brown on the bottom.

Make space for the jam!

Despite my annoyance at the circumstances, we had a great time together. We played Scrabble, allowing both French and English words. This is now my new favorite way to play – it really opens up your options! It was a great game for us to play together because we both learned some new words. I learned the word for “burp” – un rot, and taught him the words seam, nub, and yam.

After the game, I made him practice the piano because he was definitely not sick. While listening to him play, I started doing some yoga on the carpet. He wanted to join in so I began teaching him some poses. Sidenote: kids are so flexible, it’s annoying! We did some crunches together and he helped push down on my knees while I was stretching out my legs. I like getting paid to work out! We were hanging out on the floor cooling down, talking about the splits, and he remarked that it would be much easier to do the splits if you had a seam for a leg. I was so confused until I finally realized he had mixed up “seam” and “nub!” Oops! We both cracked up imagining a seam on someone’s leg.

I’m proud of him for trying to use new words in conversation right away! I doubt he’ll ever mix up those words again, now that he has a fun memory to go along with them. I have made similar errors countless times since I moved here. Making mistakes in French has allowed me to learn and retain far more than if I depended solely on my flashcards. (My friends’ mistakes have been cemented in my mind as well. I’ll never forget my friend Kelly’s mistake of asking friends of her bf whether they were going to cook something à poil [naked] instead of à la poêle [in a frying pan]. Poil and poêle are pronounced the exact same way {pwal}, so that little “la” made a big difference. Eek!)

Perhaps this can be applied to life in general as well. After my recent visa debacle, I am so much more aware of paperwork and fine print. As I embark on another semester of school, some travel, and then deciding what to do next fall, I will try to remind myself not to fear the mistakes that I will surely make, but just remember to learn from them and hopefully not repeat the same ones twice!

If you have similar language mess-up stories, feel free to share in the comments below. It’s embarrassing but you might as well laugh it off!

I went back to Paris in September (2012) and had a great time in my program at the Sorbonne. Maybe one day I will write a post about my experience in the program, but for now I’ll just say that I highly recommend it. My professor was great and I improved so much. I went home for Christmas, and my visa didn’t expire until February, so I decided to just deal with extending my visa in Paris after I got back from the States for the holidays. (Mistake #3)

I flew ALL THE WAY TO OAKLAND, CA for Christmas and did not use the opportunity to go to the consulate and get a new visa. This is because I didn’t know that I needed a new visa. I thought I had a student visa, which can easily be extended in France if you have all the right paperwork (which I do). Surprise! The mean man at the consulate did not give me a student visa. He gave me a special type of visa that is called “long séjour temporaire – dispense titre de séjour.” I didn’t notice. I had looked over the visa a few times after I stupidly left the consulate without asking any follow-up queestions, and I just didn’t notice that “étudiant” was not anywhere to be found. I guess I was looking, but not seeing. If I had noticed, I could have looked here, where it lists my exact type of visa and then states underneath: This is a temporary visa to stay in France for 3-6 months. The owner of the visa is not allowed to apply for a carte de séjour in France; they must return to their home country when it expires.

Sure enough, when I went to three different offices of the Prefecture de Police in Paris I was told the same thing by everyone working there: you have to go back to the US. I felt so stupid for not realizing sooner (before Christmas, for example!). As the reality of my situation sunk in, so did the devastation. The thought of leaving France brought me to tears all that week- if I’d had any doubts about whether I wanted to stay before, they were definitely gone now. I spent the week attempting to find a way to renew my visa without having to return to the US. I even worked with this company to see if they could find a solution. If you find yourself in a similar situation as me, I highly recommend that you contact Olivier – he’s a tireless creative thinker who can find a solution to almost any problem that involves French bureaucrats. I say almost because even he couldn’t get around my visa.

Luckily, the round-trip tickets were the lowest price I’ve ever seen them! So, I made an appointment at the French consulate in SF, booked my ticket, and came back home just one month after I had left from Christmas. I triple checked what documents I would need and I had several people look at the website with me to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. I am now humble and admit that everyone needs two pairs of eyes for things like this! I went on Monday morning to my appointment, and sure enough, it was the same man from the summer.

I waited in the row of chairs, breathing slowly and deeply. When he called my name, I braced myself for an evil glare or a snarky comment. But I shouldn’t have flattered myself that much, because he had no idea who I was. He asked for papers one by one, and I provided everything instantly. We discussed everything in French and he didn’t correct me, although I know I made some weird mistakes because I was nervous. He asked me why I was going and my reply was that I wanted to learn French. When he found out that I had already completed a bachelor’s degree, he asked me why I hadn’t majored in French. The way he said it, he made it seem like I was stupid for not beginning my French studies at the age of 5. I replied as politely and nicely as possible even though I was thinking: Um…because I majored in music?! I also mentioned that I will apply for a Master’s in France for next fall.

After that, everything went smoothly and he said it would take less than a week. I got a call on Wednesday that I could come in to pick up my passport. I went in on Thursday and when he called me up, something was wrong. He had all the documents from my dossier spread out. He informed me that I had not re-registered for Campus France and paid the fee again, and that I would have to register again and reapply for a visa after I received all the documentation from Campus France. I knew there was no way that would be an option for me, since it would take weeks to do all of that. I stayed calm and simply said, hmmm, that poses a little bit of a problem…

He agreed. I kept saying gently and with a bit of pleading, I just didn’t know, I didn’t know you had to re-register with Campus France…and he was silent for a bit. He told me to sit down and wait. When he called me back up he said, I decided to give it to you anyways. !!! I looked at the visa in my passport he had just handed me, and saw that it was a student visa for a whole year. He must have really trusted me when I said I was applying for a Master’s. Why couldn’t he have trusted me when I said I was taking 2 semesters of classes? That is what makes me want to pull my hair out when dealing with these people. But whatever…this time I really had prevailed!

This whole experience has been anything but fun. It was costly, stressful, and frustrating. But at least I learned some big lessons during this whole process.

1 – It never helps to get overly emotional when dealing with governmental procedures. Those people are just doing their jobs (poorly) and they have to follow the rules (loosely). You have no power – accept it! You might get caught with someone when they are having a bad day, or when body-snatchers have taken over, as was clearly the case with my friend at the SF consulate. So be polite, say you are wrong, say they are right, don’t yell, and hope for the best.

2 – Apparently I am blind; it’s best to ask for help when things are really precise.

3 – Start these processes early. Give yourself time to f*ck up and then time to fix things so you don’t have to buy international flights unexpectedly.

4 – As with pretty much everything in life, have about 5x as much in your savings than you think you’ll need.

5 – Accept change. Part of the reason why I had remained so calm the second time at the consulate was because I had accepted my fate. I wasn’t sure if I would get a new visa, so I had already made a plan to move back to Oakland and work until I could save up enough to move back to France. If I hadn’t gotten another student visa, I would have made it work. There is not only one city that I can live in and be happy! I try to do the best I can with hurdles that come up, and then move on! But, lucky for me, I get to go back! See you back in Paris.

When I first moved to Paris, I was with a program called TAPIF (Teaching Assistant Program in France). They provided us with all the information we needed to know about the process that would allow us to legally work and live in France. As problems arose, we were able to communicate with a member of their staff whose sole purpose was to help us teaching assistants pre-departure.

I didn’t really understand or care about the processes I went through to get my visa. I just followed the directions given to me in my TAPIF handbook. All I understood at the time was that there was a ton of paperwork, it was both stressful and boring, and if I just did what they said, I could move on and actually BE in France, eating baguettes every day.

By spring of 2011, I knew that I wanted to stay in France longer but having been rejected for a second year of TAPIF, I needed something else to do. I knew several people who had taken French classes at the Sorbonne and it seemed like a perfect fit – a great way to get a student visa to prolong my stay in France as well as deepen my knowledge of the French language. At my appointment to sign up for classes, I told the woman (for whom I believe French was not her native language) that I wanted to take two semesters of classes. She happily accepted my credit card to pay a deposit and printed out a confirmation sheet. I glanced at the sheet to make sure it stated the school’s name and address and had an official stamp, since I had read on the French consulate’s website that those things were very important in order to be approved for a visa. All was well (spoiler alert: all was NOT well, mistake #1), and I flounced out of the office, off to a picnic with friends.

Come early July, I had packed up my little room (leaving most of my things with my second au pair family) and said à bientôt to all my friends. Back in Oakland for two months, I spent the summer seeing friends, working in my mom’s office, petting my cats, and attending my brother’s wedding. A few weeks before I was scheduled to fly back to Paris, I had my visa appointment at the consulate in San Francisco. I had read through all the required documents on their website and brought them all with me to the appointment. I chatted in French with the girl who reviewed and approved my dossier. While waiting to be called up to take my visa picture, I was mentally high-fiving myself for how awesome my French had gotten and how I totally had my shit together.

Not so fast. The supervisor was in possession of my dossier and he called me up to the window. He said flatly that he couldn’t issue me a visa. I tried to remain calm, even as I was inwardly panicking about the logistical nightmare that would follow if I was not granted a visa. Would I have to fly back to France and bring all my stuff home? Could I get a refund on my school tuition? As we continued talking, I got more and more frustrated – he had a really irritating way of cutting off every sentence I began. Finally, he explained (rudely) that on my application form I had requested a visa until May, but the receipt from the Sorbonne that I had provided only showed payment for one semester. The woman at the Sorbonne had misunderstood me and I didn’t notice!

I still don’t understand why this man at the consulate couldn’t just say, I can give you a student visa until January and then you can extend it at the prefecture once you are there. Instead he kept saying too bad, I’m not issuing one to you. I got really upset as it sunk in that he was denying me. I had just had a great year abroad and loved it so much that I wanted to stay. I had gone through all the stress of finding a new place to live and work, moved my possessions across Paris, and arranged my finances to be able to pay for classes which would be a great step toward a possible career in France or a French-speaking company. I had flown all the way back to California, I had navigated their stupid shitty website to make my visa appointment, and made tons of copies of stupid forms and documents. I had paid $140 to Campus France (a completely useless organization) just to be able to study there. And now this stranger was telling me no?!

And he wasn’t just saying no, he was saying it in the meanest way possible. When I explained in a trembling voice that I had used my savings to pay for school and my expensive round-trip ticket and that I HAD to get a visa, he said, No, you would LIKE to get a visa. You would LIKE to go to France. It’s ME who decides, not you! I can turn you away if I want to. Then he suggested, seriously, that I go back to the school IN PARIS and sign up for the spring semester as well. It was AUGUST, the month when most French people take vacation and leave France. The school was definitely not open, and obviously I couldn’t afford to fly over just to get a stupid piece of paper.

His tone, words, and message INFURIATED me. I hate being told what to do, and I really felt that he was being unnecessarily mean. I started sobbing uncontrollably. He said I could put the application in but he would probably reject it. I had to take my picture anyways and my face looks so sad in it. I left the consulate and continued to cry on the street in San Francisco, where three different strangers approached me to comfort me. One guy stopped me, grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye, saying firmly, “It’s gonna be ok.” A girl said something similar. On BART, an older man grabbed my hands and prayed to God to quiet my soul. Wow! Even though I was really upset, I still was laughing a bit on the inside at these three random people who wanted to comfort me, all in very different ways.

Now that I’ve had six months to get over it, I realize that I approached the situation with the wrong attitude. Yes, I am an independent individual who is free to make her own choices. But when entering a foreign country, especially to do something other than tourist activities, a part of your freedom must be surrendered. Other countries have the right to place restrictions on those who want to enter for whatever reason and compliance is mandatory. I knew in my mind that I was 100% planning to sign up for another semester in the spring. I know that I am a trust-worthy person and that I have never intended to work illegally or become a terrorist in France. But the French government doesn’t know that – they need proof. My paperwork did not prove that, so he had every reason to deny my request. The French are not known for their stellar customer-service, and this man was a living example of how they tend to deal with people.

Part 2 coming soon!

In December, I decided to check out this noodle place I’d read about on Girl’s Guide to Paris. I met up with Phoebe to try it for the first time; she was running late, so I stood outside and noticed that one of the chefs was making the noodles I was about to eat by hand!  I quickly became engrossed as she took a large chunk of dough in her hands and stretched her arms wide, pulling the dough with her as she went. She did this repeatedly until she had an armful of noodles. Who knew it was so simple?!  Every so often she would look up at me and smile, and I’d try to slyly look away and pretend I wasn’t drooling.

Phoebe and I sat at one of the tiny tables and we both ordered the noodle soup called “Zati” that is made with spicy ground pork. It’s hard to know which aspect of this amazing soup to devour first – the spicy and flavorful broth, the chewy and salty noodles, the meat and beans hidden throughout, or the sprinkling of onions and cilantro that freshen it up.

This is embarrassing but the following fact will illustrate how good this place is: I went to Happy Nouilles three times in three weeks and returned a fourth time last weekend. It snowed for a few days last week and I was chilled to the bone.  I knew this soup would be the perfect thing for a snowy Saturday.  Now I’m hoping it snows again so I can return, although if it doesn’t I’ll probably go anyways. 

Happy Nouilles
95 Rue Beaubourg
75003 Paris
metro Arts et Métiers
*be aware that it’s usually packed and there is not much space between each table – not the most comfortable dining experience but delicious all the same