So a week ago I opened a bank account at the post office.  As in Japan, the postal service also serves as a sort of national bank.  The people were really really nice about helping me with the account and they spoke really slowly so I could understand their French.

The man who opened my account was especially nice probably because he had just opened an account before for another English assistant.  Actually, I thought I knew about all the other assistants in my town but apparently this one slipped through my highly attuned “assistant radar.”  He is the assistant for the postal worker’s wife who is a teacher at one of the high schools here.  When I told the man at the post office that I did not know the other assistant, this is what he said:

“Oh, really?  Do you want his phone number?  I have it here, let me give it to you.”  Then he ruffled through his drawer of files (confidential, I thought?!?) and pulled out the assistants’ account information, plopped it in front of me and pointed to his phone number.  “There”  he said.  I can only hope that he is not as forthcoming with my personal information…twas a little strange I thought.

It was partly due to this display that when I came back the next time with a request for some “RIBs” (official slips that prove my name and account number) and realized that I had forgotten my passport (my only official piece of identity) I went ahead and waited in line until I was called.  When the woman at the counter asked for my passport I put on my best “lost puppy” face and said “I don’t have my passport, but I have my California driver’s license…and here, a credit card with my name on it too…” and, only a little surprisingly, she gave me the RIBs (with a little exasperated sigh at least) even though all I had was a state id from a foreign country.  Should I be happy that they are so lax, or really, really worried??

Anyway, later that day I was able to hand in my RIBs to the secretary at school which means I can get paid (yay!) and hopefully, the money will still be in my account when I go to get it… :-/

This weekend I am finally moving to a permanent place.  And it’s in Montpellier! I’m really really excited although the thought of such a long commute to work puts a little damper on it.  (Takes about two hours door to door.) But the pros of living in a bigger city and commuting to work far outweigh the cons.  Not the least of which is the fact that now I don’t have to play where I work.  That’s an important point for me to consider because a lot of my students are over 18 (the legal drinking age here) and I would really hate to run into them at a bar.  That would be straaaaaaange….

What’s more is that the place is one of my teacher’s friends who is letting me stay at his (very nice) house for quite cheap while he is living with his girlfriend at her place.  And thank goodness too because I never would have been able to afford a place in Montpellier AND pay for a train card to commute.  So, thanks to everyone here being really really nice and accomodating I’ve been able to adjust easily,  and now, I have a sweet place to call home.

Last night I went out with the other foreign language assistants who are also living in Beziers: one American (a Texan, no less), a Brit and a German.   There are other assistants who work in this town but we are the only four fools who have yet to flee to Montpellier.

However, after last night I am longing just a little bit more for my getaway to the city.  After a lengthy tour of Beziers (on foot) including a trip to the “hip” bar (which was boarded up, we should have taken the hint and just gone home then…) we finally found a cafe/bar that had a little life in it: mid-life, that is.   As fun as the black-clad, over-forty hipster scene is, it was still not exactly what we had had in mind when we set out.  Nonetheless, my wine was just 2,50 euro per glass and it was delicious, so the evening wasn’t completely without merit.

Perhaps next weekend we’ll go bowling.

cheese is cheap, baguettes are cheaper.

i still have no permanent place to live but somehow it’s ok anyway.

two ten year old boys stalked me and tried to lift my skirt.

i’m now an expert at sidewalk dog poo dodging.

there is a salad here that is just cheese and lettuce.  no one eats the lettuce.