Showing posts with label bitching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bitching. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Faux Amis - Tampon

Here's a fun one! Today we're talking about everyone's favorite subject: feminine hygiene products! Speaking of feminine hygiene...I won't ever have to cover douche, will I?

So, in August, I'm traveling with my family and we're in a souvenir shop. My dad calls me over and says, "Sam, take a picture of this." And I obey.


There are a number of things I love about this situation. 1 - My dad was the one who pointed this out. 2 - The fact that when I think about it, I wonder why this doesn't actually exist (you know, like training bras - My Princess Tampons! They've got to have Hello Kitty ones in Japan, right?), and 3 - I can't decide whether the box above it was even funnier.


Tampon in French means stamp, but the kind you make in ink (not the envelope stamp, that's timbre) (And chevalier means knight, fyi). Tampon can also refer to a swab or a buffer. This is just one of those things that no one warns you about! Seriously, I've been learning French for how many years, and no one has ever bothered to teach me the word for tampon (which is actually also tampon, by the way, but how do you make a difference when you go to a store and ask where the tampons are?), or at least give me the heads up, like, "Hey, tampon isn't always what it looks like." But they don't teach you unsavory yet really useful words like condom (see preservatif) or pad (I had to look up sanitary napkin in an online dictionary, since they didn't have it under "pad": serviette hygiénique or serviette périodique). This is something legitimately useful and practical in everyday life, and yet my fine, public school education completely neglected it. Thanks a lot, American educational system.

French word:
un tampon
English equivalent:
Yes, it means a tampon. But also an ink stamp, or a cotton swab, or a buffer.

Word of the Day:
tampon en caoutchouc
rubber stamp (I just love how weird the French word for rubber is... caoutchouc...)

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Carte de Séjour Medical Visite

Okay, I just wanted to write this up since the process was so confusing, and sites about it really didn't give me an idea of what it would entail, and I want to complain, too.
Since I'm here for the full school year, and I'm not a citizen of a European-Union country, I had to get a long-term visa in the U.S. before arriving, and a carte de séjour when I got here in France. The following is the story of what I had to do. Note: a great deal of this probably only applies to people studying in Toulouse, or something along those lines, so elsewhere, you might have different requirements/processes...but it's still always annoying.

Visa
Being from Pennsylvania, I had to go all the way to Washington D.C. - in person - to get my visa. It was confusing, and the requirements were weird (like a notarized letter from a parent saying they'd give me a certain amount per month, which seemed like an easier option than proving I had the funds), but they were spelled out on various websites, so when I got there everything went smoothly. I hadn't realized I'd needed to have printed out this one receipt from CampusFrance, and that was annoying, but all I had to do was wander to another office in the consulate and ask them to print it out, so it worked out okay. I had been stressed out, but the guy working at the consulate was really nice, and it was the end of their day, so that could have been why it was relatively empty and low-key. I left with my visa, went sightseeing with my brother to the Independence Mall, and returned home.

Carte de Séjour
Okay, there is just something about the French bureaucracy that bugs me. And that something is their need for excessive documentation. I had to go to an authorized translator to get my birth certificate translated into French (though was it really that hard to read in English? Like they couldn't have gotten the gist of "Mother," "date," "name," and so forth?), and that cost me more than I wanted - something around 25 euros, I think, though I don't remember exactly. Plus, and this may be just a Toulouse thing, we were supposed to come with a stamp valued at 55 euros. I think you can buy it at a tabac, but luckily another guy in the program didn't realize he didn't need a carte de séjour until after he had bought it - again, confusing administration policies are so French - so I just gave him money for his.
I went to the C.R.O.U.S. office and waited around - there was no one at the desk, naturally, so I hung around pretty awkwardly - and then finally gave my copies of everything they could ever want to know about me to the lady, with only one close call. You see, the French govt asked for everything I had already given the French consulate in the U.S. - except in French. I didn't have the notarized document from my Dad in French, because duh, he doesn't speak French, and it felt unnecessary to translate it. Luckily, the other guy working there knew how things worked, and when my lady asked him about it and said I had given it to the Washington consulate, he said that yeah, it was fine. Phew!
They then gave me a provisory carte de séjour, and I waited around until somebody gave me a paper saying they'd contact me about a medical visit at some later time. I asked when, and the guy said that if I didn't get it some time before my card expired, I should call them about it. Of course, my card didn't expire for another 3 months, so he was really not giving me any idea of when to expect it.

Visite Medicale
I get a letter two months later saying I have an appointment with the ANAEM in Toulouse (which is in charge of migration and such) for my required medical visit - for the next Thursday, giving me only a week. Lucky for me I don't have class on Thursday, or too bad, I guess. I was leaving the next day for the weekend, so I didn't pay much attention to the letter other than writing down when the appointment was, and where.
I finally read the letter fully the Tuesday before my visit and realize that it asks me to bring my vaccination record, hospitalization records, chest x-rays, glasses, and, if necessary, a maternity notice (congé - it's pretty French, don't worry about it). Now, why this "if necessary" was placed before the maternity thing and not before the glasses baffled me, and I pretty much spazzed about everything else.
No one had told me before coming to France, "Hey, make sure you bring vaccination and hospital records," and I couldn't get them mailed to me in time, and I don't have a fax machine with me in my French dorm room. So I freaked and sent a frazzled email to my parents asking what I should do. They emailed me a scan of my 11th grade physical I'd had done by my doctor to play tennis - you know, 3 and a half years ago - and it had a short list of vaccinations I'd had done. I've never been hospitalized, but they never asked for any of that anyway. Here's what did happen:
I go in, wait for a while, then am taken to a room where I'm told to take off all of my clothes in the chest area (AKA any shirts and bras) and put on this weird robe. The lady then makes me stand in front of the x-ray machine, though beforehand she checks that I've followed her directions (since I'm a stupid foreigner, after all), and she gives me more directions in rapid-fire French that I actually don't understand, and ends up just moving me bodily to the position she wants while continuing to blabber in French, and I understand that she'll tell me "aspirez" or "breath in" while she takes my x-ray. This doesn't happen until I misunderstand more of her directions, but it ends up okay.
Then I wait, then talk to a nurse who asks me if I smoke, whether I have insurance (sécurité sociale here), and I show her the VITTAVI information I got mailed to me after signing up for it when I registered for the IEP (Sciences-Po) Toulouse earlier in September. Then she looked at my vaccinations, and I found it funny that she knew that DPT was DTP in France, but asked me what "influenza" was (which I knew! I was so proud - "la grippe," by the way). She told me I should get a booster for DPT/DTP, and I told her the record wasn't quite up to date, and she said things I wasn't quite sure I understood about my university's doctor and getting free shots at this place at the Place de la Daurade (but I'm pretty sure I would have been confused in English, too).
Then I was ushered in to see the doctor, who asked if I smoked, took a quick look at my x-ray, said it was fine, and I was handed off to wait in another room. After some waiting, a lady came in, asked us (since there were others in the room) for our temporary cards and the letter they had sent us with a copied picture of the 55 euro stamp, and then gave us our full-fledged, laminated titre de séjour, all set for us (and a paper that says we've had a medical visit - if you reapply for the carte after a year, to renew it, you show them the paper and don't have to do the medical crap again).
WARNING!
The letter with the medical visit letter was confusing - it said to bring it with you to the medical visit, with the stamp "below" - and right there was a photocopy of the 55 euro stamp. Since I had already paid for the goshdarned thing, I figured I was fine with the letter and brought it with me. Another girl in the room had bought another stamp, and stuck it to the image on the letter. The woman working there must get this a lot, and she had the girl write a letter explaining that she had bought an extra stamp by mistake and needed to be reimbursed. Apparently this happens all the time since the letter applies to the whole region, but buying the stamp beforehand is unique to Toulouse, or something along those lines. So if you got your temporary card from Toulouse, your stamp was taken care of, but if you studied outside of Toulouse, you would have needed to get a stamp and attach it.

AGH! I hate bureaucracies, and the French bureaucracy is up there on the list, I think. But I have my titre in my hands, and it's all over since I'm only here for the year and won't have to renew. And that is quite a relief.

Word of the Day:
radiographie
X-ray

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Rome: Pros and Cons

(Written on the last day of my first trip to Rome, August 21st, 2008)

Con: In mid-August, it is ridiculously hot - sultry even - with little opportunity for shade.
Pro: Water is really accessible, with fountains everywhere, and it's cool and tasty at that.

Con: I felt dirty, pretty much the whole time I was there.
Pro: The dust was mostly from all the really cool old crap.

Con: Speaking of old crap, you could trip over all the ruins all over the place.
Pro: Well, you could trip over the ruins, there are so many, all over the place.

Con: Cobblestone roads. They seem quaint and cool when you first see them, but they can do hell on your feet and luggage, especially when they're sloppy, like in Rome. And car rides are not comfortable.
Pro: The cobblestone fits with the old buildings, fountains, and statues everywhere that really create this antique atmosphere.

Con: Caesar salad. I had some in a restaurant, and it was positively yucky. The dressing was this thick crap, all cheesy or something...yuck.
Pro: Gelatto. Oh-my-God delicious. And I had the best strawberry (fragola) gelatto on the Spanish Steps.

Con: Eating alone: I couldn't share any huge portions.
Pro: Pizza margherita. Mwah! (Said kissing my fingers, Mamma-Mia-Italian-cliche style)

Con: The limited metro and confusing buses.
Pro: The bus I was on was super nice, with a TV and everything. Plus, you can watch Rome fly by.

Con: Not knowing Italian.
Pro: Most people spoke English, and pretty well.

Con: The Vatican Museum is just too much. And you have to walk through the entire thing to get to the Sistine Chapel.
Pro: A combo this time: seeing nuns in all types of nun-garb all over the place....and spiffy Swiss guards!

Con: My feet are killing me.
Pro: The Fanta here is more like Orangina than orange soda.

Con: Seriously, I think my feet are permanently swollen, with blisters in weird places.
Pro: That's not totally Rome's fault, my feet took a beating in France, too.

Con: I've been cut off from news; even when I see it, I don't really understand it.
Pro: I find it funny that the Herald is the international English paper. Like, okay then.

Con: In a weird turn, my shins even feel weak.
Pro: Again Sam, not all Rome's fault, mostly just yours.

Con: Italian waiters are not very attentive.
Pro: They deliver to your table delicious pasta.

Con: The Italian/European keyboard - nothing is where it's supposed to be, and it took me forever to figure out how to get an @ sign.
Pro: I haven't had to use an internet cafe yet.

Con: My feet...
Pro: Oh, shut up about your feet already.


Word of the day:
Uscita
It's on all the exit signs in Rome, but also the term for the boarding gates at the airport.

Ciao Roma!