Paperwork.

You can't break a promise to a four-year-old.  That was why, during one of my last days in the United States last August, I could be found perusing postcards at Como Zoo.  Almost every Sunday last year, as part of my job with Berlitz, I taught Daniel and his dad, Kevin; Daniel loves animals and loved the zoo, so I told him I'd send him something from Minnesota when he and his family moved back to Shanghai last June.

While teaching with Berlitz last year, I remember having adult students come to their lessons in a panic over things like bank accounts, mortgages, and car payments.  While I always made sure to answer their questions, define words, and practice any conversations they requested, I didn't fully understand at the time how they felt or why they would often thank me profusely for what seemed like the smallest bits of information.

My first two weeks in la Roche-sur-Yon were a humbling experience.  While I've now started to find the town very charming and rich in unexpected ways, my first days were truly a struggle.  I've been attempting to s'installer (settle/move in) in several ways: opening a bank account, getting a phone number, completing housing and immigration forms with the French government, enrolling in social security and health insurance, figuring out my apartment/roommates/facilities...oh, and getting trained in on my actual job, too.  I'll tell you the story of just a sliver of the paperwork cauchemar (nightmare) so you can get an idea: the following is a piece of the bank/phone saga.

I thought I had a great plan before I left the U.S.  I had asked a CELTA friend, Katie, for some phone plan advice, and she gave me a few companies to research.  While I was in Paris, I stopped by the Virgin Mobile store to see if I could get a plan started.

You can have very strong language skills and still have no idea how to explain yourself in a phone store, I discovered quickly.  While I was able to perfectly describe what I wanted in a roundabout way, I did not have the exact French language for words like "plan", "no contract", and "unlocked".  For the record, I have now learned these useful mots du jour:

un forfait - plan
sans engagement - no contract
débloqué - unlocked

The man working at the store tried very hard not to laugh at the extravagant phrases I was using to describe what I needed, and then explained that it was necessary to open a bank account before I could buy a French SIM card.  He also noted that there was a Virgin Mobile store in Nantes that I could visit once I'd arrived in la Pays de la Loire.

I needed to open a bank account for several other purposes as well, so it was my first priority when I arrived in la Roche-sur-Yon (aside from buying a toothbrush, but that's another story).  On my second evening in la Roche, I met the only other American here, Elyse, and she recommended a bank that she's used before called LCL.  After asking her some questions about her experience, I decided to open an account there as well.

In order to open a bank account in France, you need a few documents: your passport, of course, and une attestation d'hébergement - a document that proves that you live in France.  For that, I needed to find la gestionnaire, Madame Baudry, au lycée (at the high school) where I'm living.  While Mme Baudry lives in the same building as me, I couldn't seem to track her down for two full days; finally, I went to her office first thing in the morning and told the other two women who worked there that I didn't mind waiting - I had brought a book and was going to stay until Mme Baudry returned.  I had nothing else to do until I obtained the document.

I thought the two women were going to have a nervous breakdown with me sitting there; despite my protests, they fervently searched for Mme Baudry's whereabouts and kept asking if I wouldn't rather repasser plus tard (come back later)? - but when I asked for a specific time, they said they didn't know.  It took all morning, but Mme Baudry returned, met with me, and I left with my attestation d'hébergement in hand.

Later that day, armed with my identification and paperwork, I showed up à la banque LCL, fully expecting to have an account opened by lunchtime so I could get a phone plan in Nantes the following day.  I learned my next phrase du jour beforehand, thinking it was basically sufficient enough to explain myself:

Je voudrais ouvrir un compte bancaire. - I would like to open a bank account.

Of course, I embellished the phrase for the man at the front counter, explaining a little more about my situation.  He looked at me as though he would die of fright, and promptly led me back to a couple of offices where he spoke very rapidly in French to the two women working there.  One, Hélène, asked if I could make an appointment to come back later.  I said, "Of course; when?"; she responded, "Next Tuesday?"; I must have looked absolutely horrified...Hélène was sympathetic and met with me right away.

In the U.S., you can go to the bank and do transactions anonymously or meet with any available banker to discuss the specifics of your account.  In France (at least, in small-town France), no.  You are paired with a banker who is responsible for you and your account; you have to go to that person anytime you have a question or want something changed.  That is why, normally, you have to schedule a rendez-vous with your banker - he or she needs time to research your situation and needs in order to best help you.  Luckily, Hélène had just guided Elyse through the process of opening an account and was familiar enough with it to bend the rules for me.

Hélène was the first person in la Roche-sur-Yon who went the extra mile to be incredibly patient and help me out.  She also made me realize exactly how much it means to foreigners to have a native speaker who is patient enough to allow me to use my French but who is also willing to explain things several times so that I understand, and slow down her speech when necessary for me to comprehend.  While I understand basic bank lingo in the U.S., I felt completely stupid and a little scared at first not fully understanding the phrases for things like "monthly credit card charge", "security charge" (in case the card is stolen), "minimum account balance", etc.  Now, after the initial shock, I can use my frequent trips to the bank as learning experiences to obtain more French vocabulary.  Hélène explains things very calmly and simply.

Unfortunately, my luck stopped there.  I traveled to Nantes the next day to be told by Virgin Mobile that il faut absolument avoir une carte bleue (you absolutely have to have a bank card) to get a SIM card.  So I had to wait a week before a couple of bank codes were mailed to me: first, my internet code; then, my PIN for my card.

While waiting for my card and PIN, I stopped at nearly every phone shop in la Roche, comparing prices and requirements.  When I finally received the card and activated it, I thought I had everything figured out (again):  I went to Crédit Mutuelle on a recommendation.  This time, I expected to have to schedule a rendez-vous later, but they took me without a problem.  Another new ally, Vincent, was ready to break a couple of rules for me to get my phone up and running sooner rather than later...mais alors, he was hit with a computer error message while trying to input my card information.  After much ado and a few phone calls, he gave me the bad news.

You can pay for your French phone plan however you like; however, to pay for the French SIM card and phone number with that particular company (which costs as little as one Euro.  One.  Euro.) you have to use a MasterCard - not VISA - connected to your bank account.  Of course, my bank card is a VISA.

In the end, I was able to order my SIM card online through a different company and pick it up a week later at a store about twenty minutes north of centre-ville; after some scary moments attempting to navigate automated messages in French, my phone is up and running.

Around the same time, I received an email from Kevin - Daniel received my postcard and was so excited to tell his teachers and classmates that he received a letter "from the other side of the world".  I'm happy to now better understand how their family, and many others, felt moving across the world, struggling to establish themselves in a place with different systems and customs for things as "simple" as opening a bank account.