Good bye, mes amis ;-(

I think that it is time to say good bye from Bisou Francaise. I have been in the US almost 2 weeks now and will have few French antidotes to share. I am going to be starting a new blog soon, once we move into our new house and get settled a bit.

Stay tuned for more about us and our new lives in Maryland here.

Banking Woes

For historical reasons, I have accounts with 3 different banks in France. I would like to have only one bank account. But unfortunately banking in France just isn't easy....

I went to my "home" office to ask to meet with a financial adviser to close the accounts at La Poste. The woman was very offended that I would even think about closing my bank account and told me to fill out some paper and send it to Marseille. After calling the number for the bank in Marseille to see how to fill out the form, I was informed that actually I have to write a letter stating I wanted my accounts closed and then send them a RIB of where I wanted the money transfered. So I wrote the letter, only to receive a letter stating that I actually had to meet with a financial adviser to close the account. After explaining my impending move to the US, I was informed that I would have to 1) Move my home bank to Bordeaux, if I didn't want drive all the way to Toulon on my next visit to the inlaws in Bordeaux. 2) Make an appointment with a financial adviser a month ahead of time at my new home bank and 3) While on my next vacation in France in a year or so, I could meet with the financial adviser and fill out the paperwork to close my account, which could take about a month or so...

What do expats who don't have relatives in France do? Visit to close their account?


So what I have decided to do was to put as much money as possible into my other bank, by writing a check to myself. It will only take my a week or so, since I have a limit on the amount of money that can be transferred in one day from my La Poste saving to my La Poste checking and then some time for the check to clear in my other banks account. To use the money here in the US, it is another letter requesting the right to wire the money to my US bank account and sometime for an international wire transfer. Maybe I will have my money by the end of the month. I hope so, I need it to start my new life....

Just Friends

France and I had a rocky relationship and in the end we figured out that we weren't meant to be. But maybe we could be friends...

My last week or so in France was spent reestablishing our friendship. I remembered all the things I love about France and leave on a good note. Like roommates who were great friends but bad roommates, you have to just get over the bad times.

I finished my time in Provence in Arles. A city of the Roman Empire, there is a large arena, a grand theatre and a bath house. While I didn't do much Roman bathing, I did try to see the sights. Arles was also the home of Vincent Van Gogh. Poor Van Gogh, was a lost soul, who eventually cut off his own ear. But his paintings were very beautiful and that was partly because of Arles itself. I didn't find his Iris field, but there is a Van Gogh bridge in Arles that apparently the artist painted. My last taste of provence was a traditional soupe de poisson with a nice Rose.

Next I spent an afternoon in Nabonne plage. I might have said this before, but Narbonne, the city where the roads to the Roman empire met, is not very nice. But Narbonne plage is a hidden jewel. We had a nice seafood lunch and walked along the beach. My little one went swimming in the sea one last time. Might not be the "Cote d'Azur", but beautiful white sand beaches, make Narbonne plage a top destination for enjoyable sun-bathing for anyone.

After a hellish 6 hours in the car with 2 kids, we slowly made our way to Royan. Royan is on the Atlantic coast about an hour and 1/2 from Bordeaux. The Atlantic oceans is a little colder than the Med but just as beautiful.

Just a few more days left on the west-coast to perfect my tan and then I am on my way home to the USA.

The begining and the end

Two years ago yesterday, I arrived in France 5 months pregnant, tired and already a little weary of my new life as an expat. My husband had moved to France 6 weeks earlier and had told me of all the difficulties of securing an place to live, a doctor for me, etc. When I arrived at the MRS airport (Marseille airport), there was no husband to greet me. I think I must have looked like the biggest fool ever, crying for 15 minutes at the airport -- wondering whether he had forgotten about me and how to get in touch. I didn't even have a number to call and had forgotten how to use the French pay phones, which require that you buy a card at the Tabac store. I didn't know where I could find a card at the airport. Anyway just about the time I was contemplating getting back on a plane straight to the US, my hubby arrives with complains of traffic and getting lost. This was to be my beginning in France. I can't say that there was a "golden period" . The administrative paper work was never taken care of, the doctors constantly overcharged me, companies were always screwing me out of money one way or another, usually directly through my bank account, so I would have to call their 30 cent/minute number to get it all straightened out, never to actually get reimbursed.

Yesterday on my 2 year anniversary of being in France, movers came with their big truck and took all my stuff away. It was cold and pouring rain. Typical. Seems like all my major life events happen in the rain. My stuff has a one-way ticket to the USA. Marseille to Baltimore direct via a shipping container.

So I have another week and half in France -- a mini vacation. All is not lost though. I speak French better than ever and understand quite a bit now. I can't talk about anything intelligent in French -- my feelings about socialism or anything like that. But I can gossip;-)


Thanks for the experience, I will always remember where I had my 2 kids, when I discovered that I couldn't live without crab chips and where I learned that there is no place like home.

Merci to all who read this blog and a big MERCI to all the blogs that I read. You all rock.

Moving Out

As I come down to the last few weeks in France I am a bit overwhelmed with another transatlantic move. How could I possible get all of my junk into a 20FT container and then wait 4-12 weeks for it to arrive in the USA. The moving companies generally don't recommend that you take alcohol back to the US, but I found out that in MD, I just have to apply for a $5 license and then pay 40 cents/liter. So I can take back my wine. YEAH. Sad for me I was either pregnant or breast-feeding my entire time in France so I couldn't enjoy any of it.

In the last week or so, I will try to see my remaining days as vacation days. See a bit of France that I hadn't seen yet, eat all the local foods that I can and maybe even relax.

Once I get to the States, there will be plenty to keep myself busy with trying to find a place to live, a car to get to work and a sitter for my kids.

BTW, anyone need a car, I've got 2.

Plate Wars

During the holidays, the South of France is invaded. Typically these invades are from the north where the weather isn't so nice. More often they are Parisians. They are spotted by their license plates with the 7Xs or 9Xs at the end (75, 93 etc). To defend the motherland against the invades, the Provencial villagers fight back.

Would not be so uncommon for a Parisian to find out that his car is broken into or hear a few swear words as he tries to park on a sidewalk. Everyone parks on sidewalks, but if a Parisian does it, he must hear the wrath of the locals. I suppose only a local is allowed to park on a sidewalk. Although I find that annoying for the pedestrian, especially when I have to walk with my kids on the street, but that is for another post. Unsuspecting foreigners can expect the Parisian treatment, if they rent a car with the wrong license plate. I know some nice Americans who go robbed because of their 75 plates.

I once got the Parisian treatment or perhaps it was a milder form I will call the Lyon aggression. A friend borrowed my roomy Roomster for his move and I drove his car with with his "69" plates, indicating the department where Lyon is. I have never been honked at so much.

If you are ever renting a car in France, ask for the local plate upgrade.

Accent Tax

Now that the weather is warming up, so are the prices at my local market. Turns out that the prices for some good is only going up for people like me... Those with a foreign accent. I am calling it the "accent tax".

My English friend recently tried to purchase a pair of pants for 10 EUR. It was clearly marked 10 EUR as where a bunch of the same pants. But when she went to pay, the guy demanded 15 EUR. The 10 EUR price was a mistake. It wasn't his fault and he wasn't taking anything less than 15 EUR for them. A 50% accent tax.

I usually notice the price of "Provencal goods" are more expensive moving from the winter prices to the summer prices. But usually they change the tags on the prices. But sometimes, they remove the prices so you have to ask to access how much you should pay. However, being clearly marked one price and charging another is just wrong.

Yesterday, after paying 85 cents for a baguette at this one bakery, I found out that the price of the baguettes are actually 80 cents and it is clearly marked. Good thing this is my "back-up bakery", the place I go where when my favorite bakery is closed.

I wonder where else I could be paying an accent tax...