Is it bad when there’s a slight wheeze in the bottom of your lungs when you breathe? How about if you’re also running a slight fever? Add in coughing up a lung? Is that bad? Yeah, pretty much what I thought.
Well as some of you have heard the language lessons have begun in earnest. My question is this, with all the new and wonderful technology available why can’t we learn a la Matrix. Plug in a learning module and record it onto your brain. Someone should seriously work on that. Well, in lieu of that I make my pilgrimages to ImpaQt.
My lessons take the form of projects. We prepare for the project in the morning, vocabulary, pronunciation, comprehension, role playing various scenarios and other general preparations (some involving maps and appointing a co-pilot). Then we attack the project in the afternoon. I’m not supposed to speak any English during the day. Just French, if I get stuck and can’t think of a word I’m supposed to work around it or use a different word. Sometimes I cheat and throw in the Spanish word. Mina, my language coach, knows Spanish however and calls me on it. If I speak English she begins to loudly hum the French national anthem. Sort of like putting your fingers in your ears and shouting loudly ‘I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you, la la la la la la la’. I like Mina, she’s a hoot.
Over all it’s fun and frustrating and sometimes slightly humiliating. I sometimes cry from the sheer frustration, but most often I laugh. Jane and Maggie teach French people English and Mina works with me on my French. We do morning warm ups, usually as a group, that involve goofy stuff like charades or guessing games. The warm ups end with everyone laughing and usually with me telling Maggie she ‘sucks’. (Long story) All in all the entire atmosphere is one of fun and encouragement. I really enjoy Mina, she has a good sense of humor and she’s very encouraging. Though sometimes, for reasons I cannot understand, Mina says I’m sarcastic, can you believe that, me sarcastic? Honestly.
The hours fly by and returning to the office at the end of an afternoon project we do a brief feedback session and plan the next meetings project. By the end of the day I’m actually physically and emotionally drained and exhausted. On some nights and early mornings following a day of French I actually dream (perhaps nightmares should be inserted hear instead of dream) French conversations. In my dreams however I’m really good. (Right. In my dreams!)
On Wednesday (2/18) the project was ‘projet permis de conduire’. My car insurance company requires that I have a French driver’s license. My IL license is only good here for one year so I need to get it changed. According to everything I’ve read about the licensing process, Illinois is one of the few states that have arrangements with France to exchange drivers’ licenses. This means that the French will allow me to turn in my IL driver’s license for a French one without having to take a written or driving test. Cool right? Well yeah in theory it sounds easy, but the ensuing paper chase makes me wonder if the tests wouldn’t be easier and less fraught with red tape.
The previous night of internet research turned up information that was a bit disturbing. In order to ‘exchange’…
(yeah the word exchange implying [at least to me] that I hand them mine and they hand me a new one of theirs – foolish American!)
…my driver’s license I would have to assemble the following paperwork.
1. 2 passport sized photographs
2. Proof of residency. Usually in the form of an EDF/GDF bill (electric and gas).
3. The appropriate form completely filled out. (To be obtained at the préfecture)
4. An official translation of my American driver’s license. (Hmm.)
5. Present my ‘Carte de Séjour’ and a copy of the front and back of it.
6. A fee of 65€. (The information on the Am. Embassy site says that this is a free service?)
Alright then, this meant that our day project would have to be to first find the préfecture (I had tried alone the day before and never did find it) obtain the necessary form and find out who could do the official translation of my driver’s license. Preparations included practicing questions I would need to ask and learning to listen for key words in the other person’s response. You would not believe how much easier it is to decipher what someone is saying when you are looking at them. Without facial clues or lip reading you are left with only your ears and you have toreally listen. I also appointed Mina the co-pilot as it’s hard to drive in downtown Toulouse and read a map at the same time.
As it turned out the hardest task of the day was to find a place to park. We drove up and down streets looking for the prefecture, then finding the road to the préfecture (among others) closed we decided to park a little further out of the center and walk there. We ended up parking at least 2 miles away; I think it was actually more. We parked on the west end of the downtown area and had to walk all the way to the east end of the downtown area.
During our invigorating walk we began to notice that something was definitely amiss. There were gendarmes and police everywhere. They were massed on street corners, they were directing traffic and dozens seemed to just be milling about up and down the sidewalks.
We walked and walked and walked and by the time we finally reached the préfecture my feet were beginning to hurt a bit. At the prefecture we picked up the form and I got one for S too. Then a new ribbon of red tape was added when the man saw my Carte de Séjour. You see I don’t actually have a Carte de Séjour, what I have is a temporary document, the actual one is supposed to be in the mail. The man at the préfecture said that I would have to have the real one to apply for my new license. Ok, fine.
Next I asked him for a list of people who could do the official translation. He directed us back to the front desk were we were then further directed to inquire at the ‘Palais du Justice’ (Palace of Justice – Court House). The nice lady directed us further east. Another ¼ mile later we found it and the terribly rude woman behind the counter gave me a copy of a list of 8 people who could do the official translation.
On the walk back it began to get more overcast and ominous looking. This is when we noticed that one of the major roads through town was closed to traffic. Police patrolled barriers across the road and on the road were several police vans and at least 3 gendarmerie busses. Ok, something was definitely going on, but we had no idea of what it could be.
For added fun and excitement, halfway back to the car it started to rain. Yup, rain. It was cold and now we were also getting wet. As we walked I was sure that something had happened to my car. The walk back seemed much longer than the walk over, I guess because of the rain. I kept asking Mina “Did we really walk this far?” She assured me that we had. Her feet were beginning to bother her too.
We finally reached the car and begin our return to the ImpaQt office.
As a side note I would like to also add that when we got on the Auto Route traffic was backed up and a sign said that the road was closed ahead. I hoped that the road would be closed just after the exit we needed and Mina looked it up on the map and it appeared as if we would get lucky, but no. We had to get off the Auto Route and take the back roads home.
This is the part were I say... umm... well... Ok fine, I’ll say it. Thank god S made me learn the back roads or I would have been in big trouble then. Ok, there I said it, ok. S was right I was wrong. ::scowling at a gleefully dancing S:: Whatever!
So anyway, on Thursday morning when I woke up after sleeping like the dead, I was coughing. I was coughing one of those slightly barky kinds of coughs and my eyes had that slightly feverish feel. So like a good girl I loaded up on my Echinacea and vitamin C and then went to ImpaQt to spread my germs. The project for the day was ‘projet coiffure’; I needed a haircut.
Upon my arrival at ImpaQt, the ever chipper Maggie informed us that the entire hubbub of the day before was due to the Prime Minister of Israel being in town to visit Airbus industries. Because of Ariel Sharon I was forced to park miles from where I needed to go, and then walk back part of that trip in a cold rain. Because of Ariel Sharon I am sitting here on Friday afternoon typing this Blog in bed after having spent all day here running a fever, trying not to cough up a lung and under the influence of large quantities of Nyquil. There is a very disturbing wheeze and rattle in my lungs when I breathe and I feel like crap.
Taking the high road, however, I do not point a finger of blame. I just want to say that I hope that Mr. Sharon had a pleasant and productive visit to our lovely city. (Sarcasm? Me?)
