The one with the German last name, the French first and middle names, and the American passport.

Alors, I am STILL homeless in France. Turns out French bureaucracy really does live up to it's reputation. I'm still trying to get that apartment I found a week ago. There is a series of hoops to jump through first though. First, I had to open my French bank account which was not an issue except that I had to get a letter from the people I'm staying with, a bill in their name at their address, and a copy of their passport. Well, the bill was in the man's name but the copy of their passport was in Fred's name. Oh là là. French bureaucracy does not like this. So I was supposed to go back to the bank today to turn in the copy of the correct passport but I forgot one little detail - I started work officially yesterday! So while I was supposed to be at the Banque Populaire, French high school kids were asking me if I like beer. And alas, you have to make an appointment to go to the bank in France. And they're closed on Mondays. All. Day. Also, found out that Janet, the director of the English department at Lycée Choiseul (my school) is basically a saint and offered to sign as my guarantor without me even asking - so I went back to the rental agency yesterday thinking I had basically everything I needed. No no no no no. They ripped me a new one. I got a list with about ten items I needed from her including but not limited to everything I had to get from the couple I'm staying with, plus her work contract, her last 3 pay stubs, and her tax records from TWO YEARS AGO. Really, France, really? Apparently this is normal for here though! Also the kind couple who probably thought I'd be here for about 3 days has told me they need my room by Saturday since someone is coming into town, which is fine and completely understandable - I've been here a while now! But that poses a little bit of a problem because I have orientation in Orléans all day on Friday and I have to take a 7 a.m. train that day and won't be back until at least 9 p.m. probably, so really this means I need to be outta here Thursday, not Saturday! Did I mention the place I'm moving to isn't furnished? So that's a whole other obstacle because I obviously don't have a car here, and even if I did, French cars are usually no bigger than my Civic. Ikea delivery, anyone? But I don't have to work tomorrow, so hopefully I will have some keys by then, god willing.

But work is great! There really is wine in the teacher's lunch room - no joke. Vive la France. Kids seem to think I'm cool because I've been to California and like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Of course one of the first questions every class asked me (I've been to 6 different ones and still haven't even seen all of them yet - never going to learn all their names!) is whether or not I speak French. They're not supposed to know I do. Oops! So I went with the "yes, I speak French, but not with you" tactic. The thing that's going to be tough I think (other than getting them used to my American accent since they're so used to hearing British English...) is being an authority figure and not their friend since I am so close to their age. Realized today I'm the baby of the staff. I think the next youngest person seven years older than me! It is kind of cliché though, isn't it? Twenty-two year old girl pursues lifelong dream of living in France. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I got placed at a fantastic school in a wonderful town and have made friends with lots of other assistants! Canadians, Brits, Scots, other Americans, Germans, Austrians, and of course, the French!

Other funny questions the kids asked:

• Have you ever seen Barack Obama? (I actually went to one of his rallies in Atlanta in 2007 when he was campaigning, so that was pretty cool!)
• Is it really hard to get into aaaar-vaaaar (Harvard)?
• Do you like Irish pubs?
• Do you like swimming pools?
• What is prom like?
• Did your university have sororities? (these kids watch too many movies!)
• And my personal favorite: Do you like France?/Why did you come to France? To which I was like, why would I not come to France, the pay is just a bonus! Though I suppose if I'd had a French assistant in my high school I probably would've asked her why she came to America. Grass is always greener syndrome. 

Sidenote: Friends with Benefits is in theaters over here and its French title is "Sexe entre amis" - literally "sex with friends." I guess there's no translation for that.

Sidenote deux: Spelling my last name for French people is my new favorite thing. It usually results in laughter and a muffled "ooolz-auzen." Ouiiiii, c'est ça.