two steps forward, one step back

After a week of driving all over northern France and successfully getting us to all of our destinations, I was feeling pretty confident. I drove us to the seaside, I found the Abbaye de St. Riquier, and an elusive restaurant in the country that Philip recommended. We went to Mont Saint Michel, and then found Shannon's house in St. Malo on the first try. I navigated my way through the winding roads of Normandy to the D-Day Beaches. And miraculously, I found my way to Damien & Kathy's place in Nanterre without calling for help.

And then today, I had to deal with the phone company. My fixe quit working last week, but I didn't have time to worry about it until after Mom & Mickey went home. Yesterday afternoon, I spent a long time trying to me dépanner according to the directions on the website. (Thank goodness my Internet was still working). Finally, I admitted to myself that I had to call Orange from my cell phone. Hello 0,34€ a minute on top of using my forfait, but what other choice do I have?

I guess France doesn't outsource their customer service to India like American companies. The few times I had to call for my DSL at home, the representatives were overly nice. Not the case today. The man was not patient with my lack of technological vocabulary, he was not pleased that he had to wait for me to find my account number, and he did not offer assistance when I asked where I could find it. I reset the modem according to his directions, and then had problems because I have a Mac. And then more problems because I have a wi-fi connection. This was not good news to him. He said something like, I'm going to read you the directions, and YOU must translate them for your Mac. When he asked me what message I got on the computer, I had to translate into French for him, and I'm sure I did a terrible job. And when we finally got to the right page on the internet for me to reset everything, I didn't have the password. Not good, not good at all. Basically, he told me to find the password and do the rest myself. Thanks, bye-bye. And then I realized that not only did I not have telephone, but my internet service had been cut off as well, and it seemed as if it would stay that way until I found the password. Momentary panic set in. And then I remembered that very-organized Nathalie had a file box in the closet, and maybe there would be something in the telephone papers. I felt slightly guilty for looking in there, but then... Eureka! I found what I needed and within 2 minutes, everything was up and running again.

Everything, except my self-confidence. And then this afternoon, I read an article in the New York Times about study abroad programs. "R. Michael Paige, professor of international and intercultural education at the University of Minnesota, says the struggles of getting along — from figuring out how to make a phone call to managing a rocky host-family relationship — are central study-abroad experiences." While I'm not a 20 year-old doing my junior year abroad, I was reminded that not everything about my year in France is supposed to be easy. Yes, I have been slightly traumatized by this morning's phone call, but I did manage to restore my phone service. More importantly, I know how to do fix it myself, so next time I won't even have to call.