Yesterday I went to bed really late, then I had a weird dream that all the other exchange students were watching me sleep, and I woke up at 4:00am and couldn't fall back asleep for a while, so my alarm clock ended up failing to wake me up, or, as I like to remember it (and as my professor heard it) my alarm clock didn't go off that morning.
I was 45 minutes late. I missed a test. I was so exhausted it rivaled the time a few weeks ago I got sick in Poland and thought I was dying. Whenever me or my sister would prop our heads up at the dinner table, my mom would ask "is your head too heavy for your neck"? For once I could have honestly answered yes. I was holding my head up with my arm and my eyelids open with my fingers. Then five minutes before class: "We're going to end class five minutes early so your colleague can take her test."
Thanks prof. Thanks for announcing that. Walking in in the middle of class wasn't mortifying enough.
Then there were two hours of presentations, and then we had a meeting with Judith, she and Andree organize the program. They are...they're very blunt, let's just leave it at that.
I can't overemphasize how exhausted I was. It didn't help that it was really, really hot, even for Montpellier. Which is pretty dang hot. It also didn't help that I didn't have coffee that morning.
I had our final the next day (today), which stressed me out, but even worse was classes.
Oh France....oh boy. The classes. I heard the horror stories before I came here. The process of looking for classes left me thinking: Can you believe this country almost became the world power? Thank God for England, because, sorry France, but you would have just screwed everything up (well...even worse). I didn't know a country could be this disorganized and still be considered part of the "first world."
Maybe I'm being too dramatic. But probably not. Back to that in a second.
I then took (another) shower, because, as I said, it was hot, and deodorant fails here, and I smelled horrible. Then I laid down on my bed, still in my towel, and fell asleep on accident for almost two hours. After which I woke up and started stressing . Went upstairs to talk to a friend because he had it figured out a little better, and we sat upstairs for hours looking for classes.
Classes here. Are. Death. Not the classes themselves, but finding them. I will never complain about the UW again. I will return and kiss the UW ground. We have it good.
Here? I believe the word clusterf*** is reserved for these situations. There are five UFRs, departments basically. Each UFR is designed completely differently, because they do not cooperate, as Judith put it, they all think they're special. Each UFR is comprised of different smaller departments. Some departments have a class listing. Some have the class but no time or day. Some have the time and day but not the number of credits. Some have the books needed listed, some do not.
The one thing, the one and only thing these class lists have in common: they are nearly impossible to find.
Another problem: most of the RI classes (quick note: two types of classes: regular integrated ones, same as all the frenchies, and RI classes, in French, but specifically for Anglophones) require that we know what level we place in, which we won't know until tomorrow, so we have no idea what RI classes we'll be in, so we have to plan around that. That probably made no sense... in conclusion, it's complicated. The first two weeks we can move around a lot, so we also have to "sign up" for more classes than we intend on taking.
The one thing, the one and only thing these class lists have in common: they are nearly impossible to find.
Another problem: most of the RI classes (quick note: two types of classes: regular integrated ones, same as all the frenchies, and RI classes, in French, but specifically for Anglophones) require that we know what level we place in, which we won't know until tomorrow, so we have no idea what RI classes we'll be in, so we have to plan around that. That probably made no sense... in conclusion, it's complicated. The first two weeks we can move around a lot, so we also have to "sign up" for more classes than we intend on taking.
Listen, I'm no internet whiz, I'm like and old person when it comes to anything technological, but finding a place, where a nice person has given the name and code of a class, the professor, number of credits and the time schedule should not be something that takes hours and hours and hours. Turns out that to get the full list and all the information for each class, one must go to each separate UFR building, where the information is allegedly posted, and look at the information which is tacked to the wall. And so we slowly unravel the mystery of the skinny French person: they smoke away their appetite, and they're so inefficient every task burns five times more calories.
Because sticking a piece of paper. In a scanner. Posting it online. Is. So. Hard.
First world country? I think not. More like...one and a half world country. What is this, the middle ages, come on France, do better.
Don't even get me started on registration. Each class is different. Some classes you sign up online like a civilized human (but I don't think you do it yourself, someone does it for you, unless I understood wrong which is very possible), some you go to class and write your name on a piece of paper... like a savage.
Right now I have this personified vision of France in my head: France is like that one kid that just keeps screwing up. Like...the parents kind of love it, but they also are a little ashamed of it and try not to bring it to parties.
Anyways, that's registration here. It sucks.
Then today happened. I managed to get up on time, go to class and take a final that I had been too stressed out to study for and totally botched it. I turned it in, lowered my head, turned around and sadly walked away. So that was fun.
After that I tried to go to the different UFRs and see their class list, after a half hour I was so overwhelmed I speed-walked over to a bathroom and proceeded to have a slight panic attack. Tried again, failed again, called someone and asked if she would do it with me. Thank God for these people.
I went back to my room, ate things out of cans on bread (a sandwich...I think? But not quite.What do you call chickpeas on bread dipped in pre-made box soup?), went to said person's room, then went up to his room, and once again: Thank God for these people. He had made a genius spreadsheet that another genius girl had showed him how to do, which made everything so much easier.
That is so beautiful to me, you have no idea. I don't know if I made my level of frustration clear above, but this calmed me down more than you can imagine. A small group of us sat in a room for a couple hours listening to music and working on it. I felt a hundred pounds lighter after that.
And yet...and yet, despite the bureaucracy, the stupid barely-functioning system, the annoying way they do everything ("of course it doesn't make sense, if it made sense we wouldn't be in France" has been uttered by and/or to almost everyone here at least once) I'm glad I'm here. I still like it.
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