7:20 pm. I should be eating dinner right now to get back on schedule. But it's also 1:21 am so I'm not so hungry.
Were you expecting me to write while I was gone? If so, I'm sorry. I should have mentioned that I planned it to be a blog-free time. Mostly for convenience. I didn't bring my computer--I had access to the computer where we stayed. Also, writing with Mom looking over my shoulder seemed like a bad idea.
Ok, short version: I'm moving to Paris on May 27! I bought my plane ticket today. I found a place to live. I put a deposit down. It was not romantic love but it was total confidence that I will like it there, that I will be happy and that going is what I want to do. I can handle it. I will learn French! I will read, write, knit, bike, walk and make full use of the public transportation system. I will drink coffee in the morning standing at the bar. I will shop at open markets, go see movies in English with French subtitles and maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get confident enough to get lost.
More later.
Grateful for: my wonderful plan.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Resistance
Last week, when I went out to lunch with Sailor, I talked about the time I went for a long trip (three months) to Europe on my own. I went a few months after I officially graduated from college, though it had been almost a year since I'd taken any classes.
It was an interesting but difficult trip. Much of the time, I was on my own and was incredibly lonely. It was not the fun, freewheeling affair that I'd hoped for. At 21-years-old, I did not fully appreciate the freedom that solo travel afforded, though that was exactly why I'd gone on my own. A couple of years earlier, I'd gone on a trip through school, and hated the group aspect of it. I was determined to make my own adventure--really see and experience the places that I visited--and go at my own pace. In that, I largely succeeded, but I was not very happy in the process.
I am a better solo traveler these days, as my trip to Peru a few years ago proved. But that was a 20-day trip, not a six month long relocation. It shouldn't surprise me that I am terrified at the prospect of going to Paris.
When I talked to Sailor about that trip of long-ago, I lost track of the point I was trying to make. This is the point: the few weeks before my trip, when I was packing and finalizing arrangements (I gave up my apartment and stored things around town, with friends), I was consumed with misery. I dreaded the trip. I fell into a mad crush with a guy I barely knew. (He was the roommate of a guy I dated a few times.) Man. While I was on that trip, I made lots of phone calls from pay phones and phone offices to my mom. I called Audrey a few times. I also wrote a bunch of letters (ah, the old days!)...and most of them went to that guy. Um...whoops.
When I got back, I was embarrassed. It was clear that the guy was not interested in being my boyfriend (foolish man) and I'd exposed myself to him. We went to lunch one day and I awkwardly apologized and asked him to just forget what I'd written. He was quite kind and assured me I'd done nothing worrisome. Hmm...I wonder what happened to that guy?
Anyway. Still not the point. See, this is what I do when I don't want to talk about something. I digress. I distract with (entertaining?) vignettes. I don't get to the point.
The point: I'm scared. I don't want to go. It's too hard. What if I don't like it? What if I'm bored? What if I'm so lonely it keeps me from enjoying myself? What if I don't write? What if what I write is crap? What if I don't have enough money? What if...what if...what if...
I'm lucky. Things have been going great. I'm a planner and my planning has paid off. I can do this trip and still have money left over. I SHOULD go. But do I have to? Do I want to? I like my house so well, and it's so snug, and I'll miss the cat...and my friends (!)...and it's so easy to be here, to stay here....
Change, even luxurious, indulgent, only-available-to-the-privileged-few change is hard. Change is hard, but is it good?
Grateful for: change.
PS Sorry, didn't meant to be a tease about Sailor. The verdict: friendship. That's a good thing.
It was an interesting but difficult trip. Much of the time, I was on my own and was incredibly lonely. It was not the fun, freewheeling affair that I'd hoped for. At 21-years-old, I did not fully appreciate the freedom that solo travel afforded, though that was exactly why I'd gone on my own. A couple of years earlier, I'd gone on a trip through school, and hated the group aspect of it. I was determined to make my own adventure--really see and experience the places that I visited--and go at my own pace. In that, I largely succeeded, but I was not very happy in the process.
I am a better solo traveler these days, as my trip to Peru a few years ago proved. But that was a 20-day trip, not a six month long relocation. It shouldn't surprise me that I am terrified at the prospect of going to Paris.
When I talked to Sailor about that trip of long-ago, I lost track of the point I was trying to make. This is the point: the few weeks before my trip, when I was packing and finalizing arrangements (I gave up my apartment and stored things around town, with friends), I was consumed with misery. I dreaded the trip. I fell into a mad crush with a guy I barely knew. (He was the roommate of a guy I dated a few times.) Man. While I was on that trip, I made lots of phone calls from pay phones and phone offices to my mom. I called Audrey a few times. I also wrote a bunch of letters (ah, the old days!)...and most of them went to that guy. Um...whoops.
When I got back, I was embarrassed. It was clear that the guy was not interested in being my boyfriend (foolish man) and I'd exposed myself to him. We went to lunch one day and I awkwardly apologized and asked him to just forget what I'd written. He was quite kind and assured me I'd done nothing worrisome. Hmm...I wonder what happened to that guy?
Anyway. Still not the point. See, this is what I do when I don't want to talk about something. I digress. I distract with (entertaining?) vignettes. I don't get to the point.
The point: I'm scared. I don't want to go. It's too hard. What if I don't like it? What if I'm bored? What if I'm so lonely it keeps me from enjoying myself? What if I don't write? What if what I write is crap? What if I don't have enough money? What if...what if...what if...
I'm lucky. Things have been going great. I'm a planner and my planning has paid off. I can do this trip and still have money left over. I SHOULD go. But do I have to? Do I want to? I like my house so well, and it's so snug, and I'll miss the cat...and my friends (!)...and it's so easy to be here, to stay here....
Change, even luxurious, indulgent, only-available-to-the-privileged-few change is hard. Change is hard, but is it good?
Grateful for: change.
PS Sorry, didn't meant to be a tease about Sailor. The verdict: friendship. That's a good thing.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Visa story
This morning, I went to the French Embassy to submit my application for a long-stay visa.
I did some research and found that bus goes from Union Station to right outside the Embassy. I got up extra early and caught the bus. My appointment was at 8:55am. The bus dropped me off outside the embassy at 8:18.
I walked through the pedestrian gate and was waved over by a man encased in a round brown-glassed security "hut." As I approached I started to pull out the email I'd printed out in anticipation of the visit, "Please print this email as it will be requested by the security."
The man said, "Are you here for a visa?"
I said, "Yes."
He said, "They don't open until 8:45."
"Oh." I said, "I guess I'm early." I didn't move.
He said, "Yeah. And the facility isn't open. There's nowhere to wait."
I said, "Oh." I felt a little helpless and lost. I looked around. We were: nowhere.
He said, "There's a cafeteria across the street."
"Ok, thanks. I'll come back. Thanks."
I walked across the street to what turned out to be (part of) Georgetown U's Medical Campus. I never found the cafeteria, but that was ok. I'd picked up some coffee and a roll at Union Station. I wandered around and looked at the sculpture, which was plentiful. It was breezy and lovely, but too cool to sit outdoors. I found an indoor lounge and read for a few minutes. At 8:40am, I went across the street and back to the embassy.
This time, in exchange for my driver's license, I got a visitor's pass and directions to the visa office. I walked up the drive and found a seat in the office. A sign read, "If you have an appointment, please take a seat. You name will be called." Within ten minutes, my name was called.
I went to the window and was asked my purpose. I presented my passport. The lady said, "Are you going to study?"
"I'm going to take a class."
"You need a different visa then."
"What?"
"You need a student visa, good for 90 days. And you need another visa if you want to stay longer."
I was befuddled. "Well, I, I'm not taking a degree, it's just a language class."
"It is the same. You don't understand."
"I didn't read that on the website."
"You read the wrong website."
I thought, "You mean the French Embassy one?" I said, "I have all the documents for the long-stay visa..."
"No. There are different kinds of long-stay visas. There are rules. It's important!"
I said, "Well, can I just apply for the tourism visa? I won't study. I'll promise not to study."
She kept my passport and told me to cross out "study" from my forms. When I started the crossing out while still standing at the window, she sent me back to my seat.
I sat and scribbled over the places where I'd written study and crossed out the name of school where I planned to take a French language class. Oy.
I went back to the window and handed her the altered forms. She said, "Do you have the other photos?" I handed them over.
"Do you have the next document required?"
I handed her my bank records. She made a mark on the application form.
She said, "Do you have the next document?"
I gave her a piece of paper on which I'd typed that I promised not to work while in France. It was signed and dated. She said, "Add to this that you will not study." I did. She made another mark.
She said, "Do you have the next document?"
I gave her the proof of medical insurance. Check. Then the "non-criminal record" certification. Check. Last, a note saying I'm staying with a friend. (They want a deed to an apartment...but how would I get that?) She didn't like the letter either. "No id?"
I said, "No, but I have a copy of her utility bill."
The woman said, "We'll call you. Please sit down."
I sat. I was discouraged. I thought, "Fine. Forget France. I'll go for three months...and then I'll live in the UK. Or somewhere else." I struck up a conversation with a woman sitting near me.
I was called up again, this time by the man working there. He said, "Write your name on this envelope. We will send the approval there. It will take up to two months."
"Two months! That's not what it said on the website!"
"You read the wrong website! Do not argue with me!"
I said, "I have it right..."
He cut me off, "Write your name and address please!"
I wrote my name and address on the envelope. I was asked to sit again and wait. I looked at the copy of the webpage. It read, " The procedure takes about 1 to 2 weeks for US citizens and 2 months for others nationalities."
I chatted some more with my new friend.
I was called to the window again. The man handed me a few pages of blank white paper. "Please go sit at that table and write on this paper exactly what you plan to do in France."
I stared at him and took the paper and sat at the table. I glanced at my waiting room friend and shrugged my shoulders. I wrote an essay that went something like this:
I brought the completed "essay" back to the man. He smiled at me and asked me to sit down again. I felt a little dazed. I said to my friend, "It's like writing a grad school application." It wasn't exactly that, though. It was like writing the essay for my application for in-state residency in North Carolina. How to be honest and yet leave an opening for what I really intend to do (basically what I said, but I'm still going to take a French language class! Please don't tell).
I waited and was called again. The man gave me a big smile and said I would get the visa TODAY. He told me he could offer two kinds of visas: 1) six months only and nothing else to do or 2) indefinite, but with the need to apply for a residency card within 90 days of arriving in France. I chose number two.
I sat again and waited. By 10:15 I left the office with a visa.
At some point they must have realized that this is what I was asking: please let me come to your country, spend all my money, then go home. Who would say no to that?
Boy oh boy. I sure hope I'm doing the right thing!
Grateful for: persistence.
I did some research and found that bus goes from Union Station to right outside the Embassy. I got up extra early and caught the bus. My appointment was at 8:55am. The bus dropped me off outside the embassy at 8:18.
I walked through the pedestrian gate and was waved over by a man encased in a round brown-glassed security "hut." As I approached I started to pull out the email I'd printed out in anticipation of the visit, "Please print this email as it will be requested by the security."
The man said, "Are you here for a visa?"
I said, "Yes."
He said, "They don't open until 8:45."
"Oh." I said, "I guess I'm early." I didn't move.
He said, "Yeah. And the facility isn't open. There's nowhere to wait."
I said, "Oh." I felt a little helpless and lost. I looked around. We were: nowhere.
He said, "There's a cafeteria across the street."
"Ok, thanks. I'll come back. Thanks."
I walked across the street to what turned out to be (part of) Georgetown U's Medical Campus. I never found the cafeteria, but that was ok. I'd picked up some coffee and a roll at Union Station. I wandered around and looked at the sculpture, which was plentiful. It was breezy and lovely, but too cool to sit outdoors. I found an indoor lounge and read for a few minutes. At 8:40am, I went across the street and back to the embassy.
This time, in exchange for my driver's license, I got a visitor's pass and directions to the visa office. I walked up the drive and found a seat in the office. A sign read, "If you have an appointment, please take a seat. You name will be called." Within ten minutes, my name was called.
I went to the window and was asked my purpose. I presented my passport. The lady said, "Are you going to study?"
"I'm going to take a class."
"You need a different visa then."
"What?"
"You need a student visa, good for 90 days. And you need another visa if you want to stay longer."
I was befuddled. "Well, I, I'm not taking a degree, it's just a language class."
"It is the same. You don't understand."
"I didn't read that on the website."
"You read the wrong website."
I thought, "You mean the French Embassy one?" I said, "I have all the documents for the long-stay visa..."
"No. There are different kinds of long-stay visas. There are rules. It's important!"
I said, "Well, can I just apply for the tourism visa? I won't study. I'll promise not to study."
She kept my passport and told me to cross out "study" from my forms. When I started the crossing out while still standing at the window, she sent me back to my seat.
I sat and scribbled over the places where I'd written study and crossed out the name of school where I planned to take a French language class. Oy.
I went back to the window and handed her the altered forms. She said, "Do you have the other photos?" I handed them over.
"Do you have the next document required?"
I handed her my bank records. She made a mark on the application form.
She said, "Do you have the next document?"
I gave her a piece of paper on which I'd typed that I promised not to work while in France. It was signed and dated. She said, "Add to this that you will not study." I did. She made another mark.
She said, "Do you have the next document?"
I gave her the proof of medical insurance. Check. Then the "non-criminal record" certification. Check. Last, a note saying I'm staying with a friend. (They want a deed to an apartment...but how would I get that?) She didn't like the letter either. "No id?"
I said, "No, but I have a copy of her utility bill."
The woman said, "We'll call you. Please sit down."
I sat. I was discouraged. I thought, "Fine. Forget France. I'll go for three months...and then I'll live in the UK. Or somewhere else." I struck up a conversation with a woman sitting near me.
I was called up again, this time by the man working there. He said, "Write your name on this envelope. We will send the approval there. It will take up to two months."
"Two months! That's not what it said on the website!"
"You read the wrong website! Do not argue with me!"
I said, "I have it right..."
He cut me off, "Write your name and address please!"
I wrote my name and address on the envelope. I was asked to sit again and wait. I looked at the copy of the webpage. It read, " The procedure takes about 1 to 2 weeks for US citizens and 2 months for others nationalities."
I chatted some more with my new friend.
I was called to the window again. The man handed me a few pages of blank white paper. "Please go sit at that table and write on this paper exactly what you plan to do in France."
I stared at him and took the paper and sat at the table. I glanced at my waiting room friend and shrugged my shoulders. I wrote an essay that went something like this:
While I am in Paris, I plan to partake of the cultural opportunities--cinema, museums, concerts--that the city has to offer. I plan to spend time writing for a personal project. I will travel in the country. I also plan to use Paris as my "home base" when I go visit my friends in other parts of Europe. The time is a rest from my job, which I will resume when I return to the US.
I brought the completed "essay" back to the man. He smiled at me and asked me to sit down again. I felt a little dazed. I said to my friend, "It's like writing a grad school application." It wasn't exactly that, though. It was like writing the essay for my application for in-state residency in North Carolina. How to be honest and yet leave an opening for what I really intend to do (basically what I said, but I'm still going to take a French language class! Please don't tell).
I waited and was called again. The man gave me a big smile and said I would get the visa TODAY. He told me he could offer two kinds of visas: 1) six months only and nothing else to do or 2) indefinite, but with the need to apply for a residency card within 90 days of arriving in France. I chose number two.
I sat again and waited. By 10:15 I left the office with a visa.
At some point they must have realized that this is what I was asking: please let me come to your country, spend all my money, then go home. Who would say no to that?
Boy oh boy. I sure hope I'm doing the right thing!
Grateful for: persistence.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Hypothetically
Let's say you go to a happy hour where you see a guy you haven't seen for a long time.
Let's say it's a guy who has, on every occasion that you've met, cornered you, isolated you or otherwise ensured that he had your full attention.
Let's say you didn't particularly object to this because you find the guy smart, funny and attractive.
Let's say that while he's talking to you and telling you jokes--and refining the joke telling so that you won't be offended (respecting your preference for juvenile, non-scatological humor)--he touches you. He touches your arm, he makes firm, leg-to-leg contact. He also makes eye contact and smiles a lot.
Let's say that once he tried to set you up with a friend of his by inviting both of you to a happy hour. Even on that night, he ended up spending the later half of the evening talking to you, and only you, and making it impossible for anyone else to approach you.
Let's say this has happened about four times. Other than these friendly, public encounters, and a handful of emails, no other contact has occurred.
What would you make of it?
Grateful for: attention.
Let's say it's a guy who has, on every occasion that you've met, cornered you, isolated you or otherwise ensured that he had your full attention.
Let's say you didn't particularly object to this because you find the guy smart, funny and attractive.
Let's say that while he's talking to you and telling you jokes--and refining the joke telling so that you won't be offended (respecting your preference for juvenile, non-scatological humor)--he touches you. He touches your arm, he makes firm, leg-to-leg contact. He also makes eye contact and smiles a lot.
Let's say that once he tried to set you up with a friend of his by inviting both of you to a happy hour. Even on that night, he ended up spending the later half of the evening talking to you, and only you, and making it impossible for anyone else to approach you.
Let's say this has happened about four times. Other than these friendly, public encounters, and a handful of emails, no other contact has occurred.
What would you make of it?
Grateful for: attention.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Enough?
Is it boring yet to say how stressed and overwhelmed I am by all my planning?
Last night, I walked home and had to rush out to take Tabitha to the vet. She needed her regular shots. Woo-hoo, that was one unhappy kitty! And she has to go back in three weeks for a booster! That will be fun.
I'm busy setting up appointments to see apartments in Paris. I'm emailing every likely place that comes up on craigslist. Some even respond. It's not a ton of places. I'm nervous.
I have almost all my documents, save one, for my appointment with the French Consulate/Embassy on Friday. Do I go without that document? Do I reschedule the appointment if it doesn't come?
I'm having people over for Passover on Saturday. Almost no one can come! I'll have between 2 and 5 guests. Oy. I have to shop tonight. Clean on Wednesday and Thursday. Cook on Friday and Saturday.
I'm still going to play soccer on Saturday. And Sunday. Don't say it.
Oh, and Sailor? He changed our Wednesday night after-work to a Thursday lunch. Boo.
Grateful for: a plan.
Last night, I walked home and had to rush out to take Tabitha to the vet. She needed her regular shots. Woo-hoo, that was one unhappy kitty! And she has to go back in three weeks for a booster! That will be fun.
I'm busy setting up appointments to see apartments in Paris. I'm emailing every likely place that comes up on craigslist. Some even respond. It's not a ton of places. I'm nervous.
I have almost all my documents, save one, for my appointment with the French Consulate/Embassy on Friday. Do I go without that document? Do I reschedule the appointment if it doesn't come?
I'm having people over for Passover on Saturday. Almost no one can come! I'll have between 2 and 5 guests. Oy. I have to shop tonight. Clean on Wednesday and Thursday. Cook on Friday and Saturday.
I'm still going to play soccer on Saturday. And Sunday. Don't say it.
Oh, and Sailor? He changed our Wednesday night after-work to a Thursday lunch. Boo.
Grateful for: a plan.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Pretend
Lucky readers, you have in store for you today a post ever-so-slightly related to dating. Are you excited?
I went to the baseball game on Wednesday with (work-friend) Nancy. As we watched and tried to stay warm, she mentioned another friend who had made an off hand remark to her about a "guy I sleep with sometimes."
I said, "A guy she sleeps with sometimes?"
Nancy said, "I know."
I said, "Hmm. I think I'd like to have a guy I slept with sometimes."
She said, "Oh, c'mon. You so could. But you don't want that! You couldn't even do that."
I said nothing but merely grumbled.
Nancy continued, "You'd be all, 'when's he gonna call me?' and 'does he like me?' You'd get obsessed. You can't do that."
I stayed silent but I thought, "I don't always get obsessed." But I've been defending myself against obsession charges for so long, that I didn't think it was worth arguing the point.
Nancy finished up with, "You can't not care. You CARE. You can't even PRETEND not to care!"
I laughed hard at that. I said, "It's so true. I can't even pretend not to care."
"That's a good thing." Nancy said.
"Yes. I think so."
Something happened yesterday that really hammered it home. I was at work, it was a little after 5pm. I was planning to leave around 5:45, when I would drive to the shelter where I read to the kids once a month (with Kristin and Barbara).
Then, I get an IM. From Sailor. It simply says, "Jazz at the courtyard of the American Art Museum, 5-8." A second message follows with a link.
I'm astonished. This is the first time Sailor has ever asked me, solo, to do anything. How long has it been folks? A year or more? Geez louise. And I have to say no!
I respond: Sounds fun but....I have to go read to homeless children.
At this point, I call Pele, because I have to tell someone. We're on the phone when Sailor finally responds.
Sailor: Oh, that's the best excuse you can come up with? Maybe next time.
Then he signs off!
I say to Pele, "See, I can't even pretend not to care!"
She laughs.
Today, when I get to work, I send a link to Sailor with the name of the outfit through which I do the volunteer reading.
He responds: anyone can make a website.
This afternoon, around 4pm, I send him another IM saying: happy hour tonight?
Sailor: sounds good, but I can't make it.
Jamy: helping needy children?
Sailor: nothing so altruistic.
Jamy: well, ok, so when can you make it?
[long pause]
Sailor: monday or wednesday?
Jamy: wednesday. tabitha goes to the vet on monday.
[long pause]
Jamy: ok, have fun tonight. talk to you next week.
Sailor: you too.
The End.
The whole not caring thing is really overrated, isn't it?
But, you know what I've decided not to care about? What Sailor thinks of me. What have I got to lose?
And, anyway, I'm going to Paris. Heh.
Grateful for: caring.
I went to the baseball game on Wednesday with (work-friend) Nancy. As we watched and tried to stay warm, she mentioned another friend who had made an off hand remark to her about a "guy I sleep with sometimes."
I said, "A guy she sleeps with sometimes?"
Nancy said, "I know."
I said, "Hmm. I think I'd like to have a guy I slept with sometimes."
She said, "Oh, c'mon. You so could. But you don't want that! You couldn't even do that."
I said nothing but merely grumbled.
Nancy continued, "You'd be all, 'when's he gonna call me?' and 'does he like me?' You'd get obsessed. You can't do that."
I stayed silent but I thought, "I don't always get obsessed." But I've been defending myself against obsession charges for so long, that I didn't think it was worth arguing the point.
Nancy finished up with, "You can't not care. You CARE. You can't even PRETEND not to care!"
I laughed hard at that. I said, "It's so true. I can't even pretend not to care."
"That's a good thing." Nancy said.
"Yes. I think so."
Something happened yesterday that really hammered it home. I was at work, it was a little after 5pm. I was planning to leave around 5:45, when I would drive to the shelter where I read to the kids once a month (with Kristin and Barbara).
Then, I get an IM. From Sailor. It simply says, "Jazz at the courtyard of the American Art Museum, 5-8." A second message follows with a link.
I'm astonished. This is the first time Sailor has ever asked me, solo, to do anything. How long has it been folks? A year or more? Geez louise. And I have to say no!
I respond: Sounds fun but....I have to go read to homeless children.
At this point, I call Pele, because I have to tell someone. We're on the phone when Sailor finally responds.
Sailor: Oh, that's the best excuse you can come up with? Maybe next time.
Then he signs off!
I say to Pele, "See, I can't even pretend not to care!"
She laughs.
Today, when I get to work, I send a link to Sailor with the name of the outfit through which I do the volunteer reading.
He responds: anyone can make a website.
This afternoon, around 4pm, I send him another IM saying: happy hour tonight?
Sailor: sounds good, but I can't make it.
Jamy: helping needy children?
Sailor: nothing so altruistic.
Jamy: well, ok, so when can you make it?
[long pause]
Sailor: monday or wednesday?
Jamy: wednesday. tabitha goes to the vet on monday.
[long pause]
Jamy: ok, have fun tonight. talk to you next week.
Sailor: you too.
The End.
The whole not caring thing is really overrated, isn't it?
But, you know what I've decided not to care about? What Sailor thinks of me. What have I got to lose?
And, anyway, I'm going to Paris. Heh.
Grateful for: caring.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
I hate you Citibank
One of the many preparatory steps I took for my Paris adventure, was to open a new bank account. I already have two banks with which I do business, and a mutual fund operator, but none of them have an international presence. What I needed was a bank with branches in the US and France. Citibank seemed to fit the bill.
After one of my multitude of trivial doctor's appointments last week, I noticed a Citibank (henceforth abbreviated as "CB") branch on my walk from doctor's office to the metro. Perfect! I stopped in, waited a good 20 minutes, talked to a guy for at least another half an hour, and walked out the proud new owner of a CB account.
I got home, logged on and set everything up for internet banking. I set up links between the new account and one of my other accounts. Excitement!
Today, I remember to check on line for CB ATMs in Paris. The rates are much better if you make the transactions on their ATMs--even if it's on your US account.
After more searching than seems reasonable, I come to the page that lists all the countries where CB has branches. France is not on the list.
Astonishing! I call the relevant number and ask, "Are there any CB ATMs in Paris?" She puts me on hold.
The answer? "No."
Damn. I call the US number and say I want to cancel my account because I only opened it because I was told they had branches in France. The fellow on the phone says, "We do have branches in France!"
I say, "Not according to your website."
Guess it's HSBC for me. Argh!
Grateful for: patience.
After one of my multitude of trivial doctor's appointments last week, I noticed a Citibank (henceforth abbreviated as "CB") branch on my walk from doctor's office to the metro. Perfect! I stopped in, waited a good 20 minutes, talked to a guy for at least another half an hour, and walked out the proud new owner of a CB account.
I got home, logged on and set everything up for internet banking. I set up links between the new account and one of my other accounts. Excitement!
Today, I remember to check on line for CB ATMs in Paris. The rates are much better if you make the transactions on their ATMs--even if it's on your US account.
After more searching than seems reasonable, I come to the page that lists all the countries where CB has branches. France is not on the list.
Astonishing! I call the relevant number and ask, "Are there any CB ATMs in Paris?" She puts me on hold.
The answer? "No."
Damn. I call the US number and say I want to cancel my account because I only opened it because I was told they had branches in France. The fellow on the phone says, "We do have branches in France!"
I say, "Not according to your website."
Guess it's HSBC for me. Argh!
Grateful for: patience.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Drowing in minutae
Oy. Bad blogger! I have no intention of giving up the blog, in case you were wondering. I know I'd be wondering if one of my several weekly reads started posting twice a week: MAX. Yeesh.
You know, the whole point of this trip to Paris is to write. Yet, the amount of planning, worrying and organizing it requires is sapping my energy to do almost anything else! No writing, no reading...not even knitting! I could knit but I'm toning it down due to continued, unrelenting, shoulder pain. I'm on the good drugs now so hopefully I will recover enough to take it up again.
I also made, in retrospect, a good decision to not row this year. First, it wouldn't be much of a season. Second, my shoulder still hurts and rowing would only make it worse. Third, who has time?
I have a dozen annoying calls that I'm working through every day: to the phone company, the student loan people (can I lower my payment temporarily?), cell phone company (grrr...pure evil!), a roofer.
I have to visit the bank, open a new bank account, link all current bank accounts.
The tedium is never ending. Never ending. I sure hope it pays off!
Grateful for: organizational skills.
You know, the whole point of this trip to Paris is to write. Yet, the amount of planning, worrying and organizing it requires is sapping my energy to do almost anything else! No writing, no reading...not even knitting! I could knit but I'm toning it down due to continued, unrelenting, shoulder pain. I'm on the good drugs now so hopefully I will recover enough to take it up again.
I also made, in retrospect, a good decision to not row this year. First, it wouldn't be much of a season. Second, my shoulder still hurts and rowing would only make it worse. Third, who has time?
I have a dozen annoying calls that I'm working through every day: to the phone company, the student loan people (can I lower my payment temporarily?), cell phone company (grrr...pure evil!), a roofer.
I have to visit the bank, open a new bank account, link all current bank accounts.
The tedium is never ending. Never ending. I sure hope it pays off!
Grateful for: organizational skills.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
When it rains...
...it drizzles.
Last week, I called Diego and left him a message about how well my trip planning is going. I have a renter, I have informal approval for the leave, it's all coming together.
He called me back and left a message about how he had some friends who had the perfect guy for me (smart, Jewish, attractive). He was excited but warned them that I might be going to France. And guess what, now I am going to France! So, no set up for me.
I called him back and left yet another message and said, "No, ,no, NO! You have to introduce me! This is what's supposed to happen! This is what I've been waiting for!" Then, perhaps, I laughed maniacally.
Set up is pending.
Today, I had an entirely too long a lunch with a guy I know from college who was only kind of my friend back then. He's super geeky guy, now a successful professor type, happily married with FOUR children. He's probably a couple of years younger than me. He's just as I remembered him, but taller and a touch heavier (wish I could claim the former!).
We had a good time, somewhat to my surprise, but I rambled far too much about the ins and outs of my job (at his prompting).
I did not tell him about France.
The most amusing moment of the lunch was when he asked (not in these words) if I was interested in being set up with a nice, Jewish, age appropriate DC-dwelling friend of his.
When I realized where he was heading, I looked down, laughed nervously and probably blushed. But I said yes. Of course!
That makes two set up offers with nice Jewish guys in the last week.
Total number of previous DC set-ups with nice Jewish guys: one.
Total life time number of nice Jewish guy boyfriends: zero.
This leaving the country thing may pay off yet!
Grateful for: friendly offers.
Last week, I called Diego and left him a message about how well my trip planning is going. I have a renter, I have informal approval for the leave, it's all coming together.
He called me back and left a message about how he had some friends who had the perfect guy for me (smart, Jewish, attractive). He was excited but warned them that I might be going to France. And guess what, now I am going to France! So, no set up for me.
I called him back and left yet another message and said, "No, ,no, NO! You have to introduce me! This is what's supposed to happen! This is what I've been waiting for!" Then, perhaps, I laughed maniacally.
Set up is pending.
Today, I had an entirely too long a lunch with a guy I know from college who was only kind of my friend back then. He's super geeky guy, now a successful professor type, happily married with FOUR children. He's probably a couple of years younger than me. He's just as I remembered him, but taller and a touch heavier (wish I could claim the former!).
We had a good time, somewhat to my surprise, but I rambled far too much about the ins and outs of my job (at his prompting).
I did not tell him about France.
The most amusing moment of the lunch was when he asked (not in these words) if I was interested in being set up with a nice, Jewish, age appropriate DC-dwelling friend of his.
When I realized where he was heading, I looked down, laughed nervously and probably blushed. But I said yes. Of course!
That makes two set up offers with nice Jewish guys in the last week.
Total number of previous DC set-ups with nice Jewish guys: one.
Total life time number of nice Jewish guy boyfriends: zero.
This leaving the country thing may pay off yet!
Grateful for: friendly offers.
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