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Lost in Translation

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Today I had a moment that was lost in cultural translation. A rather big – four mile moment.

I’m settling into my new apartment and am exploring the city. I’ve made an appointment at the bank to open a new account, visited the school campus, been downtown to run errands, etc. I’ve been walking, a lot, and have figured out the tram system.

But facilitate getting organized and getting settled – I decided on an IKEA run. (PS. Miss Mercer you got off easy and you still owe me one ;0) The local IKEA isn’t far from my new place and should in theory be easily accessible via public transportation.

However, the city is expanding one of the tram lines and adding a new stop. So the directions provided on the IKEA website weren’t valid. But the bus lines are still running and the center should be easily accessible. I love public transportation but am always leery of bus lines. In general I find them harder to navigate. It’s hard to know which stop is yours, if you are traveling in the right direction and even when the next bus will be coming. But I felt the IKEA trip was necessary – so after about 30 minutes of internet research I decided to brave it.

I set out this afternoon map, directions, large bag and backpack in tow. I easily found where I was supposed to board the bus. And the tram station with a map and a ticket machine. However, no where on that map was the bus line I needed. I double checked my instructions and my paper map. I was in the right place but still no bus. Realizing I was about halfway to IKEA already I decided to walk the rest of the way. The whole trip door to door is only about two miles. I figured I could cab it back if I bought a lot of stuff.

I easily found my way to the IKEA store…but….it was closed. Actually the entire shopping center – which also contained a Toys R Us of all things – was closed. Apparently in the typical French, well Western European fashion, Sunday is in fact a day of rest. Who knew? Apparently I am used to the Cali way – where it is rare for stores to be closed on Sundays. You occasionally see service locations – salons, cobblers, tailors – closed on Sundays but never big box stores. So when I was checking out the website for an address and directions I didn’t even bother to look at the store hours.

So after my two mile trek I found myself standing in an empty parking lot – no taxis or buses in site. And I began the trek back. At least in the process I also found the lovely Bordeaux lake park. When the weather is nice I know where I can go for water sports, picnics and time outdoors.

As I got back to my apartment I decided I would at least do one productive thing and head to the grocery store. As I have to carry everything I’ve been collecting basics in stages and I thought I would make a plan for dinner.

But again there was a breakdown in cultural translations. The grocery store closes at 1 pm on Sundays……..

Belle Bordeaux

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Clearly, I have made it to Bordeaux!! But, I’ve been a bit too jet-lagged to write coherently.

After a stressful fight with AirFrance in Paris – apparently the automated system is great until you have something like a large, heavy bag that doesn’t work fit within the system – and another visit by the flying panties – I finally made it to Bordeaux. I spent my first night at a quaint, small and very European Best Western at le Gare St. Jean, Bordeaux’s primary train station. Apparently, this is one of the city’s rougher neighborhoods – but I wasn’t concerned for my safety at all. It was a bit like being in a baby-SF Mission. Or maybe just downtown SJ after a Sharks game. I would love to say I saw a ton of cool things and explored the neighborhood in detail but I will confess despite an hour plus long walk, I don’t remember much.

The next morning I conquered the tram and made my way to the city’s Chartrons district and my new flat. My lovely landlady drove me back to the hotel in her Twingo where we actually managed to stuff all of my luggage into the back of her car and make our way back. And the lovely staff at the hotel actually allowed me to check out early. Unfortunately, I wasn’t expecting such a precipitous move and in the process of frantically re-stuffing my bags I missed one of my hairbrushes. But that was my only loss – and I really can’t complain. Particularly as my favorite hairbrush made it.

That afternoon I unpacked and started an initial shopping list. So I set out to master the local supermarche (a bit like a Walmart on crack). However, I have to confess I was completely overwhelmed. It took me 20 minutes just to find the milk and the eggs. So I grabbed basic essentials (toilet paper, milk, eggs, cheese and bread) and a few items for the flat (Swiffer, hangers, etc) and made my way back. I spent the rest of my evening getting organized and trying to stay awake.

Yesterday I began running errands in earnest and explored my new neighborhood. I picked up my first piece of mail – a package for my birthday sent from London, made an appointment at the bank to open a new account, and found a place to make copies. I also made my way back to the supermarche for a more in depth exploration and more essentials. Now at least I have ziplock bags, trash bags and some real food.

And last night, in honor of my upcoming birthday, my landlady invited me to a dinner party with her friends. I learned that my French is coming along better than I thought, but I have a hard time understanding conversations when more than one person speaks at the same time. Also, to state the obvious, French people speak very fast. 😉 But all in all it was a lovely (if very late – I went to bed about 2 am) evening. And there was even cake!

I’ve had a lazy morning but am getting ready to head to centre-ville (city center), camera in tow, to find the Apple store, a cell phone provider and go exploring. My one major communication fail with my landlady has been about connecting my time machine to the wireless router or modem. So far we haven’t made it past “but we have wifi.” Hence the hunt for the apple store – I will just manually back up my computers for the time being. Plus I don’t want to impose too much as the wifi is centered in her apartment. And I would like to feel connected again.

A plus tard!

Bonjour Paris!

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Three out of four flights and I’ve finally made it to France!!!

I am currently sitting in the Orly airport enjoying free wi-fi and waiting for the chance to drop off my bags. Apparently bag check in is much more efficient in France and you can’t check your bags in more than 90 minutes before your flight. Unlike San Francisco where bag check in ends 70 minutes before departure. I like the efficiency. I think. It means that I am currently waiting with all my bags and watching the clock as I really would like to freshen up in the bathroom – but there is no way I fit through the doorway with all my stuff. And yes it’s a lot of stuff. Even the Air France staff was a little taken aback.

I will confess – I do feel a bit ungainly sitting next to all of these put together and lovely French women. I’m in sweats I’ve been wearing for about 22 hours, have no make-up on and I’ve got all of this baggage. I REALLY need a shower! I smell like plane.

But I am surprisingly awake. Maybe not at my best, definitely struggling with my rusty French, but awake. Apparently two cocktails at the airport and two glasses of wine on the plane are conducive to actually sleeping. The empty middle seat in my row helped a lot too!

I was also surprised by customs – or the lack there of. Maybe I am just used to fling to London Heathrow where they are overly cautious. But they barely glanced at my passport. Didn’t even check my visa or look at my bags. The whole thing took about 30 minutes – 5 of which was waiting in line and the rest was waiting for my bags to be unloaded.

Well writing this post has killed about 20 minutes, about 50 to go. I’m going to go find something else to keep me busy so that awake status doesn’t change! Looking forward to finally arriving in Bordeaux.

A plus tard!