Paris Arrival

We arrived in Paris on Saturday. I know your fingers must be sore from gripping the arms of your chair for six days, but I have good reason for the delay in posting. We hit a few snafus.

Although our flat came as promised with high-speed dsl connection, it wasn’t set up to work with Mac. This matching iBook couple was left with an AOL disc and instructions to download a driver. After some hair-pulling and surreptitious laptop borrowing (see Paris Digs), we found ourselves two days later in a computer store called FNAC.

The scene looked familiar, two floors, products grouped by type, entertainment and hardcore equipment. And then there’s the Mac section. All by itself, tucked into the back was the 15 x 15 foot space shelved with Mac-friendly stuff. In the center sat the ringmaster, a 22-year-old technophile, exactly like those working at the Apple store back home, only he doesn’t speak English. Jeff chose a router he thought suitable for our needs and we made our way over to the help guy. Although my French is slick enough for food ordering and pushing people out of the way on the train, I knew I was in over my head at the computer store. The conversation went something like this:

Me: (in French) Hello. I have a question but I’m sorry I don’t speak much French. Do you speak English?
Sales kid: (in French) I speak German and some Jawa, in the dialect presented in Star Wars episode IV. I also know Linux. Very little English.
Jeff: (in English, settling for only the most basic of all his questions) Will this work with Mac?
Sales kid: Mac? Yes.

Not entirely confident with our choice, we hovered around a bunch of other stuff we hoped might also get us online if our Mac router didn’t work. On display were a dozen different keyboards. Although the pictures on the boxes showed our familiar English keyboard setup, we quickly realized French keyboards were in most of the boxes. This time I approached another help guy intending on communicating in French. What usually happens when I’m under pressure and say something in French is it comes out a little garbled…just a little. This time was no different:

Me: (in French, holding a keyboard box) Is this an English keyboard?
Sales kid: (in French, pointing to picture on box) Yes, it shows an English keyboard.
Me: All the gifts have (made up Franglais word for pictures) with English keyboards.
Sales kid: (look of confusion)
Me: All the gifts show this (pointing to picture).
Sales kid: I’ll get someone who speaks English….you dumb weirdo.

Jeff and I gave up on finding an English keyboard and committed to making the router work. A few hours and phone calls to the UK router helpline later, Jeff had our wifi up and running. I can now lay on the chaise, overlooking the Seine, while communicating with the entire internet world. La vie est bon.