Nice, in photos

We heard the news after we got back from the fireworks. We probably would have gone to bed and slept in ignorance until the morning, but Hugo gets news alerts on his phone.

On Friday, there was an outpouring of shock and grief over the attack in Nice on social media. But at least in Lyon, there doesn’t seem to be a public space of tribute and mourning, like there was after the Paris attacks, where people leave flowers and messages. The public reaction is different this time. Maybe it’s because the possibility of more attacks has been hovering in the background, especially during the Eurocup. But that doesn’t diminish the magnitude of this tragedy.

I dug up my old photos of Nice. I haven’t been there since 2012. I thought it was only two years ago, but then I did the math. I meant to go back this summer, but time is short. (By “short” I mean “hurtling along at rogue rocket speed.”)

Continue reading “Nice, in photos”

Advertisements

Schmuck!

We were watching The Holiday.

(You know, the movie with Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet, and they switch houses for Christmas and then fall in love and stuff? And Jude Law has two tiny daughters who each have their own cellphone. Don’t get me started on that plot point.)

Right, so we were watching The Holiday, and we got to this scene. (Skip to 1:40 to get to my point.) Iris (aka Kate Winslet) is telling Arthur about the jackass she left back in England, and Arthur simply says, “So he’s a schmuck.”

Hugo paused the movie. “Ça veut dire quoi, un schmuck?” he asked me.

“Um, a schmuck is like, a not nice guy. Kind of a jerk. Or like, a stupid person you don’t like.” He repeated it a few times. “Schmuck. Schmuck? Schmuck!”

And we carried on with the movie. (Spoiler alert – Kate Winslet got rid of her schmuck and Cameron Diaz learned to cry. Hooray.)

The next day, we were on the road and Hugo wanted to stop at McDo, but I disagreed. “Noooon, pas McDo, not McDonald’s!” I groaned. He looked at me sideways with a glint in his eye and exclaimed, “Schmuck!”

For the next few days, he wielded his new word with relish at any opportunity that prompted an insult.

“Tu as mangé le dernier biscuit! You ate the last cookie! Schmuck!”

And just now: “Hey chéri, you said it was okay for me to blog about when you learned the word ‘schmuck’ right?”

“Non, schmuck! …just kidding, tu peux.”

 

I always hesitate to blog about funny things Hugo says in English because I don’t want it to seem like I’m making fun of him – really, his English is excellent. He can keep up in conversations with my family and anglophone friends so well that I never worry about it. He can properly pronounce “squirrel” and “hungry” which we all know is quite an accomplishment. But sometimes he says stuff like “Your feets are cold!” and “It’s in minty condition” which I think is so, so cute. But maybe it’s less cute if you’re not dating him, which I assume no one else is. 

For a truly hilarious blog about an American expat’s foreign spouse’s English quips, you must read Oh My God My Wife Is German. Trust me.

 

 

Winning an epic battle with French lab billing

A great pastime, particularly among foreigners in France, is complaining about the bizarre inefficiency of the French system and all the frustrations that come with it. I’ve ranted about French bureaucracy a considerable amount, but all of these experiences that make you want to clunk heads together are the rule, not the exception. Everyone has lived them, even French people.

So I’m happy to present to you a France success story! I like to tell it because I get to rant for most of the story (ranting is only fun after it’s all over) and it still has a happy ending. Are you ready?

In January, I went to the doctor. She said she was going to do a test that would cost 7 euros once it was reimbursed in part by social security. Fine, I said. In France, the doctor actually gives you your lab sample packaged in an envelope and you have to take it to the post office to mail it to the lab yourself. Weird, but okay.

A few weeks later, I got a bill for 23.10€. I sent a check, because that was the only way to pay. And that was that.

Except that a couple months later, a scary collection agency note showed up at my door, threatening to fine me over 100 euros for not paying the bill, which I had paid. So I called them up.

“Um, actually I did pay this bill a few months ago,” I explained.

They insisted that there was no record of my payment.

“Fine, then I would like to pay it now. Can I use an American credit card? I’m having some problems with my French bank.”

“Yes, clearly you are,” the woman smirked condescendingly.

(My French bank problems are an entirely different saga, and do not involve a lack of funds to pay a 23 euro bill.)

I argued with her until she conceded to let me pay the original amount owed, minus additional charges.

And that was that.

Except that it wasn’t, because in May (remember, this all started in January) the laboratory cashed my check. They cashed the check that they had said they had never received, after sending a collection agency after me, months after I had paid the collection agency!

I only had the number for the collection agency, and naturally, this debacle was not their problem.

“You’ll have to take this up with the lab because they are the ones who cashed your check.”

“Okay, could you please give me their phone number?”

“I can’t share that information with you, but here is there address. You can write them a letter.”

I can write them a letter?! (Side note: Sometimes, in France, you will be told that the only way to accomplish something is to write a letter. It sounds like a joke, but it isn’t.)

Thankfully, Google seemed to think it was okay to give me the lab’s phone number. You’re the best, Google.

So, in my best polite French, I explained that there seemed to have been an error.

“You’ll have to take that up with the collection agency, that’s not my problem,” the receptionist brushed me off.

“Oh no no no no nononononono.” My polite French got less polite. “I have paid almost fifty euros for something that was supposed to cost seven. Do you find that normal and correct? I did send the payment on time, and when I was told you had lost the check, I paid immediately a second time to resolve the issue.”

“We didn’t lose your check!” She was indignant.

I was confused. “Then… why… but… the collection agency?”

“I don’t know what my colleague did, but we didn’t lose your check. We sent you the reimbursement form, didn’t you get it?”

“Madame, the issue is not the assurance maladie reimbursement. The issue is that you have charged me twice and you need to reimburse me.”

Here, there was some hemming and hawing, and she put me on hold. Apparently, she didn’t share my view that reimbursement was obligatory in this scenario.

Finally: “My supervisor says we can send you a check.”

“Wonderful! When might I expect to receive it?”

“Bah, je sais pas madame! We have other clients, not just you. It won’t be tomorrow.”

“I understand, but could you give me an idea? A week? Two? I’ll be moving in a month.”

“You had better give me your new address. Ca ne va pas être demain!” she repeated.

“I don’t have it yet, and I really think that three weeks is sufficient time to send a check.”

“You’re moving in a month and you don’t have a new address? You’re really pushing it, madame.”

It sounds polite because we were calling each other madame, but the whole thing had turned into quite a spat.

“Look,” I said. “I am sure that you will be able to successfully mail this check in two weeks. In the event that I don’t have it before I move, I will contact you again. Will that work for you?”

“Yes. Au revoir.”

“Thanks so much for all your help and bonne journée!” I spit out sarcastically, sure that I was going to have to call and harrass her for the money in a few weeks.

But. BUT! Here’s the happy ending. Are you ready?

The check came in a few weeks time, and I cashed it. HOORAY!

The end.

Have you ever battled the French system? Tell me your story, or leave a link to your own rantings!