Mi ha rotto il cazzo, and other stories from the first week of class

When they tell you that French universities are disorganized, they are not exaggerating. It's three days into the first week of classes, and schedules, room numbers, and even course descriptions are changing left and right. I finally received my carte d'étudiant on Tuesday, bringing to an end the week-long quest that was gathering all the necessary documentation. And I thought the hard part was over.

As French students really don't have a choice when it comes to the courses they take (they pick a major and a minor, and every class for every semester is already pre-determined), it's pretty tough for foreign students to 1) find out the schedule of classes since French students don't need to work out their schedule and have to go to whatever classes are given to them - no matter when they find out when they take place 2) know what the subject matter of a course will be - they're pretty much all titled modern or contemporary Literature/History/Geography/Philosophy since, once again, it doesn't really matter to French students what the class is about, since they have to take it regardless 3) know how many credits each class is worth, because to french students, as long as they complete the required courses for their major, they will have the right number of credits.

That said, it is unsurprising that my adventures this week included: skipping a class in order to finally get my carte d'étudiant - only to discover that my student ID number (indicated on the card) wasn't working to give me internet access, sitting through a class about the theory of genre without understanding a word the professor said through her thick accent - and later realizing it was worth only a pointless 2 credits, and walking in on a Translation "Cours Magistraux" (lecture) -- only to realize it was being conducted in German.

This evening, my spirits got picked up by two lovely Italian girls, Veronica and Valentina, whom I met while unsuccessfully trying to decipher the schedules outside the Sécretariat. Valentina invited me to her birthday dinner this evening, where we had a delicious (albeit expensive) meal of lyonnais specialties in a typical "bouchon" - a brasserie à la lyonnaise. The two are heading back to the University of Bologna to take their exams, so I hope we still hang out after they come back.