Money, Prison, and a Near-Death Experience

As my friend Katlyn said in her recent letter (Katlyn!  I got your letter!), small things add up to big adventures, so here are a couple small things from this week:

At the beginning of October, I purchased a month's worth of Navigo (public transport pass), knowing that I would receive my year-long card in the mail within a couple weeks but having been advised that, upon reception of my permanent card, I would be reimbursed for what I did not use of the month's pass.  You might need to read that a few times.

...Make sense?
Anyway, turns out the advice was bad, because after I got the imagine R (year) card, I searched in vain for an RATP agent who would reimburse me for at least 35 euros worth of un-used NAVIGO.  A few days later I met Parvine, who told me about a friend of hers who is always sending letters when she's dissatisfied with something, usually with good results.  Well, email is cheaper and faster than a letter, so I sent one to RATP.  I was expecting the same snotty response I'd gotten at the info booths, so you can imagine my surprise when an agent emailed me back within a couple days, apologizing for the delay (!) and asking me to send receipts from my purchases. I did so but didn't hear anything for a couple weeks.  I figured the battle had been lost from the beginning.
Low-and-behold, a check showed up on our doorstep Tuesday, for no less than 40.16 euros! Almost as awesome as the check, however, was the letter which accompanied it.  Allow me to translate...

Mademoiselle,


In your letter which reached us the 13th of October, you asked us for a reimbursement of a month-long NAVIGO pass bought during the wait for your imagine R card.
However, we note that we received your imagine R contract the 2nd of October, and that we sent you your imagine R pass the 7th of October.
We remind you that the General Conditions of Sales (articles 1-7)  state that no temporary transport pass bought between the date of the reception of your contract and the date of the posting of the imagine R will be reimbursed.
Nevertheless, we will reimburse you, on an exception, for the days during which your monthly pass overlapped your use of the imagine R.
We have, therefore, the pleasure of addressing the attached check of 40,16 euros.
The imagine R team remains at your disposition for any additional information and we thank you for your patronage.

HA!  I love to see "however" and "nevertheless" in such close succession.  I'll bet it was a "pleasure" to write me that check!  Lest this be another too-good-to-be-true story, I deposited the money before this post, and so far, so good!

And now for a not-so-small thing: remember that scholarship application I turned in at the last minute in mid-October?  I remember predicting that it would probably come to nothing, just like every other UT scholarship I've applied for.  Voilà a situation in which I was glad to be proven wrong.  I got a nice little congratulatory message on Monday.  It was a great way to start the week!
Thanks, UT!  :)

These last few days have consisted of lots of modified and/or cancelled plans as friends fell ill (not seriously), became overwhelmed with schoolwork (ahem, not me), and I forgot to take into account the duration of a typical French repas (meal).  This afternoon I made a last-ditch effort to see a ballet at the Opéra Garnier.  I began to see ads for  Amoveo/Répliques/Genus a few weeks ago; a program of three contemporary dance pieces performed by the Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris, I knew immediately that I would like it.  The show ran for at least two weeks and I kept putting it off (or failing to get rush tickets, when Marco and I tried one night) until today, when I returned to the almost-indiscernible box office (it's under construction) with fingers crossed that the ballet would be an unpopular attraction today.  Well, I was wrong: it turns out some other people in Paris figured out that this was the last performance.  In the end, I decided against buying limited-visibility tickets, especially after the guy behind the glass informed another student and I that we would see "rien" - nothing!  Cosa ci serve, questo?!
I have to admit I was pretty disappointed to have missed the show, but this was a learning experience, and I know that there will be plenty of other wonderful ballets.

The most dramatic experience of the week was definitely Wednesday night, when Pauline invited me to her place to watch France play Ireland in soccer for a place in the World Cup championship in South Africa.  The thing is that Pauline and Mamadou live literally next door to the Stade de France, where the game was being played.  So while I was just trying to get to a friend's house with some stuff to cook for dinner, everyone else in Paris -- including 20,000 Irish visitors -- was making his/her way to the Stade de France to watch the game live via one of two metro lines.  I joined literally thousands of others catching the 13 at St. Lazarre, where the cars pulled into the station completely full and left even fuller.  Things were uncomfortable, but tolerable, until we got to Place de Clichy, where probably 300 fired up (and drunk) Irish and French fans were screaming "soccer-songs" (for lack of a better term...a bizarre mix of drinking songs, national anthems, and cheers), stomping, clapping, shouting, and jumping around.  The spectacle was funny to observe but it got downright terrifying as the metro doors opened and dozens of drunk Irishmen attempted to climb into the car.  Everyone inside was shouting "no room!", but it did no good.  Our new fellow-travelers pushed those at the doors back into everyone else, and I felt like I was in a trash compactor.  A woman behind me started shouting that this was her stop.  I propelled myself through the crowd in front of me, stepping out of the car to let her exit.  I was definitely in "fight-or-flight" mode, and as I turned back to the car to see a woman bitching out the guy behind her, who was probably utilizing the situation to get a little too close, I chose flight.  I called Pauline and Mamadou, spouting off (in French, though!) about how ridiculous it all was and asking if there was any way I could walk to their place from Place de Clichy.  Mamadou said it would be much too far to walk, and there was too much traffic to come get my in their car, but that I should wait a few minutes for the crowds to die down.  I only had to wait about ten to see a significant wane in intoxicated, screaming fans, although the atmosphere in the metro was still a little tense as the towering Irishmen hammered on the walls and the roof, to the disdain of many French fans (and to people who were just trying to get home).  The electricity went out at least twice while we were in the tunnels, and at one station, the conductor had to try five times to close the doors.  The last time, she came over the  P/A to announce that this was the "last try".  I'm not sure what she would have done if they didn't close, but, just like with children (ahem), the threat worked.  I breathed a sigh of relief when she came on again to announce we were one station away, and I made a beeline for the Guinness tent outside the stadium as soon as I exited.  I plan to never put myself in that situation again, but I might try to go to the metro to get some pictures next time there's a big event like that.  Quintessential completely over-crowded Paris!!
Anyway, France won in "overtime", so we're qualified, although it turns out that the ball was handed just before the winning goal.  The Irish PM asked FIFA for a re-match, but they wont get it, since according to the FIFA rulebook, game results are final.  I would sure hate to be that referee.  It's a hard job!

Alright, I should get to sleep, seeing as how I have class in seven hours.  I might get that Italian test back at that time, so keep your fingers crossed for me!!

With love and pictures (see below),
Alina :)

Oh yea, go the the end of this album to see just a few shots of my tourism this week - I visited the Conciegerie, which, like many public monuments, used to be a prison.  The prison, to be more exact, in which Marie Antoinette stayed for five weeks awaiting her execution.  I also made it to Saint Chapelle, but was actually disappointed, possibly due to all the hype but more probably due to the rude woman at the ticket window who, contrary to what her colleague told me a couple weeks ago, insisted that my carte de séjour is no different from a tourist's visa.  Seriously, is it always necessary to be as rude as possible, particularly when you're wrong?  I think another letter might be in order...