Un pompier ou un docteur

After spending a weekend having a shooting pain run from my elbow to my wrist on my right arm I decided I better just suck it up and head to the doctor and find out what is going on. No, it's not sympathy pain for Dancing with the Stars' Cristian de la Fuente it actually is a pulled tendon or pinched nerve...look the conversation with the doctor was half in French and half in English so give me a break here.
First off, if you'd like to know about my first experience with Dr. F you can check out my previous post- le medecine (be prepared to hear more personal information about painful urination than you'd ever care to read). This time, instead of making an appointment or un rendez-vous, I decided I'd go to his open morning hours which start at 7:30 a.m. and end at 12:30 p.m. I couldn't go first thing in the morning because Ally had her own appointment at le veterinaire for her yearly shots. I slowly made my way to the doctors around 9:30 a.m. - I say slowly because let me tell you driving was not a joy. You try shifting when your right forearm is suffering from pain shooting through it like a volt of electricity every time you move just so. 2 hours after sitting in the waiting room - salle d'attendre - I made tentative conversation with my fellow patients. They had been complaining to one another in rapid French I just couldn't really understand exactly what was happening. When they turned to me with a question I pulled out my standard, "Je suis desolee, je ne parle pas tres bien francais" "I'm sorry, I don't speak French very well." They were all very kind and slowed down their speech (somewhat) and used a little bit simpler language and I discovered that they had been waiting for 4 hours and that the doctor was not only a doctor, but also un pompier - a fireman! He had left his office for an hour that morning in his capacity as a fireman! Can you believe that? While he had a room full of patients waiting to see him he ran out of his office to attend to a fire! or something. he didn't look singed or anything even though he was still wearing his pompier shirt when I finally saw him at 12:30 p.m.!

If you haven't read about my first visit to Dr. F you should know that he has no secretary, no one to help him in his office. He runs the whole show, so it's not even like there was a secretary who could calm the patients down and explain where the doctor was and why. Nope, just a room full of grumpy sick people waiting for a doctor who had run out of his office! How crazy is that?

chez coiffeuse

chez coiffeuse = the hairdressers or hair salon. And, yes, I finally dragged myself to the salon to get a haircut. As you can see in the photos I was in desperate need of some les cheveux help (hair). I popped into the salon in Saint-Genis on Tuesday to faire une rendez-vous (make an appointment) I find it's much easier for me to do things in person when I'm trying to speak French rather than over the phone. It's so difficult to understand people on the phone when their speaking French. Facial expressions and gestures are key to my French speaking abilities. So, after answering "Non" to the question of when would I like to make the appointment -for some reason I thought she was asking if I had been there before. Oops. I don't know why I have such difficulties with questions, but they are a pitfall in my French understanding. Once it was established that she was asking WHEN, I managed to make the appointment for Wednesday morning. I had been talking for weeks, months even about getting my haircut but it just seemed so expensive and such a hassle. But, really...look at those photos! I hadn't had my hair cut in almost a year. I know, it's embarrassing to think I let it get so scraggly...but when it's longer and you pull it up most of the time you don't really notice. But I've been wanting a change. Nothing too dramatic but something different than this ragged mass of hair I've been sporting for months. Besides, we're going back to the U.S. in May for my sisters wedding and I thought that was good motivation to get spiffed up. They say you should never change your hairstyle before a major event so I wanted to get it done now so I could get used to it or get it fixed if I totally hated it. Cut my hair...or else.

With only minor trepidation I had my DH drop me at chez coiffeuse (or maybe it's supposed to coiffeur I used the feminine form since I had a female stylist, but I have no idea if this is correct French or not). Why should I have any trepidation at all? Well, if you've read any of my posts you know I'm a freak and nearly pee my pants with fear every time I venture out and have to use French. I was prepared though. I had looked up key phrase in hair cutting. Thank you Rick Steves! We have a great little phrase book with French, Italian, & German and it is hugely helpful. I recommend it to anyone traveling. Heck, anyone moving to another country and need assistance with the language. It doesn't have everything you will ever need but does include some extremely helpful phrases and a menu decoder (this has even helped me at the grocery store on occasion). So, enough of that. I was armed with phrases such as: Je voudrais une coupe (or j'aimerais) = I would like a haircut. Coupez ca a peu pres. = Cut about this much off. and La frange = bangs. With these key phrases and the requisite hand gestures and facial expression (if you know me you know I'm never at a loss for a good facial expression!) I felt sure I could accomplish this monumental task of getting my hair cut.

Lo and behold, for once, I was right. I succeeded quite well. OK, at first there was a bit of confusion because I had no idea what the stylist, Vanessa, wanted from me as she tried to put that smock on me. You know how they cover you all up so you don't get masses of cut hair all over you? Well, every place I've ever been to in the U.S. they just place it over you and velcro or snap it shut behind your neck. But at this salon you actually had to put your arms through - there were sleeves. It took a few perplexing minutes for me to see these. Poor Vanessa must have been thinking "Quelle connard." What a jerk. OK, she probably wasn't thinking that, but she was getting a little irritated with me as she kept repeating her instructions and I just sat there staring at the smock like an idiot. Oh well, I eventually figured it out and we carried on. I explained in my lovely broken French that I wanted my hair cut a mes epaules (to my shoulders). She said Ok and we proceeded to the washing and then on to the cutting. I just love having someone wash my hair. Don't you? It's so luxurious. You just lean back and let someone else do all the work and it feels so good, like a scalp massage!
I was very pleased with the end result and I even tried to make a little conversation with Vanessa. Asking if she thought I should have bangs? La franges!? She looked at me aghast. Even if I couldn't understand everything she said she definitely was against my having bangs - that much was apparent by the look of utter disgust plastered all over her face. Well, I'll just have to trust the stylist that my face is not destined for bangs any time soon. So, in closing. I will post some pictures of my haircut. All in all it was a good experience and I'll probably go back to Vanessa when I need a trim. I was a little disappointed that my 50 Euro haircut didn't seem to include much styling. She just blew it dry. Perhaps that's because when she asked me if I wanted it nature I said "oui". I wasn't exactly sure why she was asking me what I assumed to me, "Do you want your hair natural?" What other way is there? Also, I thought she was talking about cutting it, not styling. Oh well, better luck next time.

So, other than I look sort of stone out or something in my photo - my darling husband kept making me laugh - what do you think? I don't think it's such a huge change, but it's nice. It at least doesn't look so ragged and bushy. I'm really happy with it. C'est bien!!

Enchante

I met three charming little French girls today. They were walking their dog and stopped by the fence to visit with Ally just as Ally and I were getting ready to go for our afternoon walk. We stopped and spoke with the girls for a bit. They were very good about slowing down their French for me and they could speak English beautifully. Well, at least 2 of them could . Either the youngest girl didn't speak English or she was just shy - her older sister, at least I think she was an older sister- did all the translating for the younger one when I couldn't understand what she was saying (though she didn't talk much). They loved Ally and Ally could have cared less about them. All she wanted was to go on her walk. She wasn't even interested in their dog, Samba. Oh well, what a stuck up little dog we have.

The oddest thing about meeting these girls was that they kept asking if I wanted them to walk Ally. I was a bit confused having told them that I was going on une promenade- a walk (at least that's what I was trying to say in French). Finally, I figured out the littlest one wanted to actually walk Ally, hold the leash. I thought this was not such a great idea so I said no, but they could walk with us if they wanted. I tried to explain that Ally sometimes pulled or got excited when she saw a cat and so it was best if I walked her. I think they were a little put out with me, but they were still very nice. I don't know why I find it so weird, but this is the second time I've had a child here want to walk Ally for me. Children I don't know and who don't know Ally. I find that so bizarre. You don't just walk other peoples dogs. Is it a cultural thing or do American kids do that too? I've never had any children in the States ask to walk Ally. Sure they've wanted to pet her, but never take her for a walk. This little girl took my no with grace, but the little boy who had asked me kept insisting that he could walk her and trying to grab the leash from my hand. Come to think of it that little boy was maybe American...or British. I can't remember. Regardless, I know Ally is cute and all but she's a pretty big dog. She's nearly half the size of these kids who want to walk her. I find it utterly baffling.

well, that's about all for today. Not much going on, just practicing my French with the little girls fo the neighborhood. I have to say that I am quite jaloux (jealous pronounce ja-looze or maybe it's ja-loo...) of their ability to speak English so well, when here I am living in France for cripes sake unable to understand simple phrases. Ah well, it' s my own fault for not practicing more. The more effort I make the better I will become. Right? Right. I knew that's what you'd say, so I just answered for you. It's easier that way.

Pride

Can I just tell you guys how proud I am of myself? The word of the day is: fierté (fee-air-tay)= pride or fier, which means proud. Why you might query am I so proud of myself on this particular day? Well, sit back and I shall tell you.

It's quite simple really. I accomplished a few small tasks in French. That is the reason for my fierce fierte. This morning after dropping Josh off at CERN, he had promised me the car today to run errands and, naturally, he missed the bus. I shouldn't complain, but sometimes I wonder about his time management skills (Honey, if you're reading this I'm obviously over-exaggerating to make it more fun to read - obviously....) Umm....anyways. It was actually a good thing I had to drive him in because it meant I got off my butt and out of the house early instead of farting around twiddling my thumbs growing more and more anxious about my upcoming task of talking to the insurance company. Now, this is something that would make me neurotic in the States, just think how I felt at the idea of having to accomplish this feat in French! I gathered together all my insurance info, along with every ounce of courage (ironically courage is the same in French, just pronounced more French like). So, armed with proof that I had insurance there, mon courage, and a French/English dictionary I bravely entered the insurance office.
I sat nervously awaiting my turn. A very nice gentleman asked if he could help me and with a flustered smile I began with my usual phrase, "Je suis desole, mais je ne parle pas tres bien francais." For those who know French you know there are a bunch of accents left off, it's just that it's such a pain in the arse to put them in, so I'm leaving them out for now- please forgive me. Back to the story at hand. Josh thinks it's pretty funny that I start out every meeting with a French person this way, but in my mind it tells them straight off the bat, "hey, look I'm trying. If I sound like a child you know why." It also, often, helps in getting the native French speaker to immediately slow down their insanely fast French so I might actually understand 1/3 of what they are saying.
Upon hearing the word inondation (flood - see Tuesdays post if you don't know what I'm referring to) I was ushered into this kind gentleman's office and the paperwork was pulled out. All-in-all it was a pretty easy process. We didn't have much damage to claim and through hand gestures and words pulled earlier from the dictionary I was able to describe what had happened and how our landlords proposed fixing the problem. They are having a drainage pipe installed along the side of the house and they are supposed to have someone put a sealant on/in? the kitchen walls and floor. Who knows when that will happen. Because we only had a rug that was damaged (and second-hand at that, though I didn't tell the insurance agent) I don't know as we'll get any compensation. We need the receipt for the rug, which we don't have. The insurance man suggested I go to the store and see if they will give me another receipt. I have no idea if this would actually work, who knows!?! Maybe I'll try it anyways.
After accomplishing that hurdle, with very few problems, I might add it was on to my next big task. The Bank. dum dum dah. When we first got here and opened our bank account we were told that we really didn't need checks. Most people don't use them they just do money transfers from one account to another. This was surprising to us, but seemed the thing to do so that's what we did. I have to say it's pretty convenient. Every month our rent is automatically deposited into our landlords account, our electricity, Internet, and phone, are all paid automatically. All we have to do is ensure that there is enough money in the account to pay for everything (a difficult task in and of itself) The problem comes when you receive a bill for something new, something that you can't just run down to the local branch and pay in cash. We received 2 of this sort of bill. I was stumped as to how to pay it. One was for an a doctors exam. I had paid the doctors bill, in cash, at the office (I find it hard to believe that neither the dentist or doctor that we've been to thus far accept credit cards -it's cash or check so now we make sure we have loads of cash on hand when we visit - but I digress, again) but then I get a bill in the mail for the lab fees. oy vay what to do now? So, this morning I made my way to the bank, started off with usual deprecating sentence then asked how to pay these bills. One was easily taken care of, he just entered the transfer into the account. The second he told me I had to go to a Swiss post office (the bill was from Switzerland and in Swiss francs) and do it there. I wasn't terribly clear on what exactly I could do there, except I know he said it was free - gratuit - all I could gather was that it is maybe similar to a money order. I haven't done this in States, but I know it can be done. So, next week I shall venture to get this bill paid, or perhaps this afternoon. Once the glow of accomplishment wears thin and I need another shot of fear induced adrenaline and the following rush of pride at managing to get some small task finished in French and without breaking down into tears.
Yay, for me. I'm giving myself a nice little pat on the back. Hope your day is filled with little accomplishments as well!