Jeremy had lunch with his boss today while I stayed in the hotel. It’s not that I was uncomfortable to go out on my own, I feel very safe here, it’s my feet! Americans definitely don’t walk this much, I have a lot of muscle to build if I’m gonna make it here! Not to mention all my shoes I brought were new so I was breaking them in. Not the smartest decision, I know, but the only pair of shoes I actually owned before buying some for Besançon is a pair of ratty, beat up purple sneakers. I would definitely be screaming tourist then! Women do not, under any circumstance, wear sneakers in France. It’s fashionable for men and teens of either gender, but it is a huge no-no for adult women.
When Jeremy got back from lunch, we checked for any contact from the relocation company. They had e-mailed us saying that they had some listings for us to see tomorrow afternoon and what we would need in order to sign for an apartment. Things like passports, paystubs, work contracts, transfer contracts, W-2s, bank statements, our last apartment lease contract, a French bank account…you know, things you should know about BEFORE you’re actually in France so you can bring it with you! Luckily, Jeremy had copies of almost everything on his laptop since he needed a lot of that stuff for his transfer anyway. The only things he did not have access to was his paystubs, his W-2, bank statements, lease contract and of course a French bank account. He managed to get the paystubs e-mailed from the US branch and after some finagling the bank statements, the W-2 would have and the lease contract would have to wait until we were back in the US though.
The bank account was going to be a potential problem though. You see, in order to get a French bank account you need a French address! In order for us to get an apartment, therefore an address, we needed a bank account! You see the conundrum here? Jeremy’s boss said we might be able to put the company’s address down and recommended Banque Populaire, as that was the bank the company used. The relocation company said she would find a bank that had a representative that spoke English and make an appointment for tomorrow, but she doubted Banque Populaire would work and she had two other ones in mind.
That afternoon Jeremy got a text from his coworker Olivier. Olivier was originally part of French Parkeon, then about 5 or so years ago transferred to US Parkeon, stayed for three years, and is now back in French Parkeon. Jeremy knew him from the US and also spent a majority of his time with him when he was in Besançon last year. Olivier had returned from vacation and wanted to spend time with us and help us out. Yay, we aren’t alone in a foreign country anymore! So we had a small chat with him that afternoon and were invited for dinner that evening.
Late afternoon we did a little more sight-seeing. By sight-seeing I really mean getting acquainted with center city. Except for the Citadel and the Museum of Time there isn’t much tourist-type stuff. The relocation company said they would call around 5-6 pm to tell us what time our bank appointment was at and when S would pick us up but lo-and-behold, there was no call. Olivier picked us up at 6 pm and brought us to his apartment.
He has a classic older apartment in center city. This generally means there are some apartment buildings facing towards a private courtyard. The apartments have high ceilings, large windows, and white paneled walls that actually have storage space behind almost every panel. They typically don’t have balconies or elevators. Olivier owns his apartment versus renting it. I met his wife, Valerie, and his two daughters whose names embarrassingly escape me. I’m not quite sure I was ever properly introduced to them and for the rest of the week I tried to listen for their names but they were always called by pet names. It was here that I had my first French meal. A meal in France is very drawn out. If you are going to a restaurant or having people over, the meal is the night-time event. There is no “dinner and a movie” or anything of the sort. A dinner is a multiple course, multiple hour event. So we started with simple appetizers of dips with bread, chips, tomatoes, peanuts, and wine. This lasted for about an hour. The main meal was pizza. It’s not very French, I know, but Olivier wanted to make something vegetarian and this was what he came up with so he could have two pies with meat and two vegetarian pies. The first two pies, one vegetarian and one with meat, were served and more wine was poured. This lasted about an hour before the next two pies were served which took another hour. Don’t forget the wine. Then the dessert of fruit, cheese, and bread was served. Those with white or rose wine had to switch to red, as this goes better with cheese. The fruit was delicious though I have no clue what it was or how to say it. It tasted like some kind of mixture between a pear and a peach, and the skin was that of a firm pear or soft apple. There were three cheeses; comté, brie, and some cheese that began with a ‘c’ that I couldn’t possibly pronounce. Comté is the regional cheese (get it, we’re in the Franche-Comté region) and is a hard cheese. I liked it a lot which pleased Olivier and his family, I guess it was some sort of regional pride. The brie and the other cheese were soft and I did not like them at all. The brie had a very strong bite to it and the rind was even stronger, while the other cheese was so salty and I did not like the rind on that either. With soft cheeses you typically eat the rind but maybe next time I’ll try without and see if I can tolerate it more, as Jeremy really liked the brie. So after our four hour meal it was definitely time to go to sleep. Jeremy had a voicemail on his phone from the relocation company stating our appointment for the bank was at 11:30 and she would pick us up at 2:00 for apartments. Guess which bank it was? Banque Populaire, the one she was so sure wouldn’t have the time of day for us. Anywho, Olivier and his family are very nice, and we’re grateful to have them with us.
When Jeremy got back from lunch, we checked for any contact from the relocation company. They had e-mailed us saying that they had some listings for us to see tomorrow afternoon and what we would need in order to sign for an apartment. Things like passports, paystubs, work contracts, transfer contracts, W-2s, bank statements, our last apartment lease contract, a French bank account…you know, things you should know about BEFORE you’re actually in France so you can bring it with you! Luckily, Jeremy had copies of almost everything on his laptop since he needed a lot of that stuff for his transfer anyway. The only things he did not have access to was his paystubs, his W-2, bank statements, lease contract and of course a French bank account. He managed to get the paystubs e-mailed from the US branch and after some finagling the bank statements, the W-2 would have and the lease contract would have to wait until we were back in the US though.
The bank account was going to be a potential problem though. You see, in order to get a French bank account you need a French address! In order for us to get an apartment, therefore an address, we needed a bank account! You see the conundrum here? Jeremy’s boss said we might be able to put the company’s address down and recommended Banque Populaire, as that was the bank the company used. The relocation company said she would find a bank that had a representative that spoke English and make an appointment for tomorrow, but she doubted Banque Populaire would work and she had two other ones in mind.
That afternoon Jeremy got a text from his coworker Olivier. Olivier was originally part of French Parkeon, then about 5 or so years ago transferred to US Parkeon, stayed for three years, and is now back in French Parkeon. Jeremy knew him from the US and also spent a majority of his time with him when he was in Besançon last year. Olivier had returned from vacation and wanted to spend time with us and help us out. Yay, we aren’t alone in a foreign country anymore! So we had a small chat with him that afternoon and were invited for dinner that evening.
Late afternoon we did a little more sight-seeing. By sight-seeing I really mean getting acquainted with center city. Except for the Citadel and the Museum of Time there isn’t much tourist-type stuff. The relocation company said they would call around 5-6 pm to tell us what time our bank appointment was at and when S would pick us up but lo-and-behold, there was no call. Olivier picked us up at 6 pm and brought us to his apartment.
He has a classic older apartment in center city. This generally means there are some apartment buildings facing towards a private courtyard. The apartments have high ceilings, large windows, and white paneled walls that actually have storage space behind almost every panel. They typically don’t have balconies or elevators. Olivier owns his apartment versus renting it. I met his wife, Valerie, and his two daughters whose names embarrassingly escape me. I’m not quite sure I was ever properly introduced to them and for the rest of the week I tried to listen for their names but they were always called by pet names. It was here that I had my first French meal. A meal in France is very drawn out. If you are going to a restaurant or having people over, the meal is the night-time event. There is no “dinner and a movie” or anything of the sort. A dinner is a multiple course, multiple hour event. So we started with simple appetizers of dips with bread, chips, tomatoes, peanuts, and wine. This lasted for about an hour. The main meal was pizza. It’s not very French, I know, but Olivier wanted to make something vegetarian and this was what he came up with so he could have two pies with meat and two vegetarian pies. The first two pies, one vegetarian and one with meat, were served and more wine was poured. This lasted about an hour before the next two pies were served which took another hour. Don’t forget the wine. Then the dessert of fruit, cheese, and bread was served. Those with white or rose wine had to switch to red, as this goes better with cheese. The fruit was delicious though I have no clue what it was or how to say it. It tasted like some kind of mixture between a pear and a peach, and the skin was that of a firm pear or soft apple. There were three cheeses; comté, brie, and some cheese that began with a ‘c’ that I couldn’t possibly pronounce. Comté is the regional cheese (get it, we’re in the Franche-Comté region) and is a hard cheese. I liked it a lot which pleased Olivier and his family, I guess it was some sort of regional pride. The brie and the other cheese were soft and I did not like them at all. The brie had a very strong bite to it and the rind was even stronger, while the other cheese was so salty and I did not like the rind on that either. With soft cheeses you typically eat the rind but maybe next time I’ll try without and see if I can tolerate it more, as Jeremy really liked the brie. So after our four hour meal it was definitely time to go to sleep. Jeremy had a voicemail on his phone from the relocation company stating our appointment for the bank was at 11:30 and she would pick us up at 2:00 for apartments. Guess which bank it was? Banque Populaire, the one she was so sure wouldn’t have the time of day for us. Anywho, Olivier and his family are very nice, and we’re grateful to have them with us.