Banking in Switzerland

The U.N. has almost everything one needs in case of earthquake or mass disaster or living in Switzerland.

There are like 6 sections to the UN Geneva complex. (Fret not, I'm not revealing anything that you wouldn't learn on the public tour.) There's Pregny Gate, through which every visitor or newbie must pass for security purposes. There can be many minutes of hold-up if it's a conference day, so I'm told as I escaped with great luck somehow and made it through in 20 minutes. Once the paperwork was all settled and my horrible photo taken, I haven't been back since, now I get to enter the main gate, the Nations gate, the one in all the photos with the rows of flags.

After Pregny, there's the Salle des Assemblées (Assembly Hall). I went through on the first day as I was lost and trying to cut across the grounds to get to the UNECE building. Nice people gave me bad directions. And I was shocked at how much French was required to ask for these directions and how good my French must be since they answered me in slurred, friendly French instead of clear, "you're obviously a foreigner" French. Anyway. I've been back to this complex a few times since as it houses main conference rooms, art displays, the lunch cafeteria in the basement, and the grand Delegates' Restaurant on the roof.

After the Assembly Hall, there's the Aile de Commission Assemblées-Bibliothèque (Assembly-Library Wing), which I had the pleasure of visiting the other day. Amazing library with high ceilings, the old book smell, and round, sturdy, yet cushy, leather chairs low to the ground. And, the books. Well, don't let me tell you that I wish my internship was cataloging.

After the Library is the "New Building," which I have yet to see. I can see it from my supervisor's office. I saw it from the rooftop restaurant. I have yet to enter, although we are highly encouraged to meander on breaks and explore when we have free time. I will, I will.

Then there's the Secretariat ("The department administered by a governmental secretary, especially for an international organization"), in which is housed a variety of people doing a multitude of things. I walked through it once to find a bathroom. I didn't really notice the names or titles. There are several "Portes" on these buildings and they're useful for finding the entrance to certain buildings. This one has Porte 1, which also leads to the basement shopping - watches, perfume, food, liquors, clothing, and, yes, chocolate all on discount. It's rather like back in the military days with the commissary. Not the greatest selection, but still slightly cheaper. Not the biggest room, but big enough not to die from suffocation or claustrophobia... although small enough to want to jab a few people in the back... yes, I'll have an entire entry dedicated to patience as the theme of not only my entire f'ing life, but also of this entire city of Geneva.

Finally, there's the Aile de Commission Assemblées-Conseil (Assembly-Council Wing). And behind Porte 6 is a nice world of convenience and where I work. Ground floor has a travel agent, tourist office, bookstore/kiosk, post office, photo booth for passport photos (I made some damn nice ones in black and white, too), and a bank.

So, I walked in with the necessary materials, sat down and opened a UBS bank account. Since they needed a safe, official address for delivery of documents I gave them the UN one and picked up all the info today. And, man, is there a lot! The credit card / debit card, the pin for that, the how-to do e-banking book, the access card to do e-banking, the pin for that, the access card e-banking machine reader, the instructions for that.

Yes, I said reader. If you've been in Europe lately, you'll notice they have these super cool wireless credit card readers that they bring to your table at the end of a meal. Now, you never have to hand over your card to the waiter/server/bartender/host. You flash it, or show it, or peek it out of the bill-bearing-book. They come over to your table, take your card, and either swipe it like this one:









or insert it like this one:





They hand you the latter and you enter your pin (as the server and your table guest kindly turn their heads), you view the "Code Bon" (I have yet to see it in English), the receipt prints, a-ok!

So, when I got my UBS reader in the mail, I started wondering how much money I could get off of unsuspecting foreigners by charging them randomly in the street or at cafes. Would it work? Could I pose as an undercover bank operations manager, checking people on the street to verify that their chips work?

So, here's the set-up:





Super security, folks. So, I only get my e-banking access if I can figure out how to insert the access card (the grey card in the photo with the gold chip; not the credit/debit card) into the reader and then log on to the website and simultaneously answer both questions from the reader and website and enter in answers from them both into the other. Now, I feel bad. I should be wiring hundreds of millions of dollars over instead of the meager amount I moved over for the summer.

Oh, and I don't get to keep the account after the internship. How could would I be? "Oh, this? It's just the monthly statement from my Swiss bank account." So Bond! But, if the UN keeps me on as a consultant until I get my first real UN job... then, I could. Yes, I'm trying to plot my whole internship around how I get to keep the Swiss bank account. If you have suggestions, send 'em over.

Adjusting

Well, it's been 9 days.

I didn't read the sign in the door of the electricity shop. So I bought a too-expensive transformer which may have blown out a plug for my battery re-charger. Or, maybe the guy insisted that it said 3.5v when I could see it said 8.5v and even when I argued it he refused it. So, "no returns or exchanges" was a hard lesson. He offered me a universal adapter for 29E but knocked it down to 20E - just for me, just for today - and I found it for 14,50E at the local Monoprix. A 2-fingered bird to Mr. Electricity. And a kick in my pants for being gullible and taken advantage of.

I learned panier [pahn-ee-eh / basket] from the security guard at my local Monoprix. I guess the equivalent of Monoprix would be like Walgreens or Target, I guess. So, now our nicknames for each other are "Monsr Panier" and I'm "Madame Baskeet."

I haven't bothered to correct people on the Madame part. Not sure if it's necessary or not.

From May until July it was "something is pulling me to Paris." From July to August it was "What am I doing?" and often "What the hell am I doing?" For the past 9 days it's been "Am I sure I want to do this?"

From afar Paris looks beautiful and romantic, cosmopolitan, sexy and racy, and framed in temporary tourism stops. From up close its structure, its foundation, its architecture amaze me. Its people surprise me with immense kindness and random exhasperation, infrequent but evident blindness to race through love and often an obvious sensitivity to chic through socialization. Up close my life here hasn't been about museums and cathedrals, elaborate meals or arm-loads of famous labels. I wasn't imagining it to be, but the reality of setting up shop and settling in to a completely different culture and world is a bit of a shock.

I have been so lucky to have already a good friend in town, Wilfried. We met through friends of friends on the internet. He and his girlfriend live on the east side of Paris but he owns an apartment over in the 18e which is literally across the Blvd de Clichy which is literally 1 block away from me in the 9e. Wilfried came by the day after I arrived in Paris and took me out around in my neighborhood. He gave me a run up rue Lepic, over to the Sacre Coeur, down through the flea market bazar, on the metro and over to the Marais, Les Halles, introduced me to some of the best people of the city and let me in to his most favorite bistro, too.

I have been so lucky to have a welcoming and down-to-earth landlord. Fabien is an art dealer, not much older than me if not the same age. This past Tuesday, in cooperation with an associate, he hosted an art opening for Akkitham Narayanan. The Sunday before, he invited me to stop by to meet the artist and see the works as Tuesday would be too packed to actually get a view. Sometimes I fumble when I'm nervous, sweat a bit too much, and feel all gangly like a teenager. Regardless, I tried to fake calm, cool, collected. I met a few friends of Fabien, and his girlfriend, Boram Lee. Boram is a studying soprano and invited me to see her in the Magic Flute at Theatre du Gymnase this coming week. I was fortunate to meet Mr. Narayanan briefly and see a few, small, original Picasso sketches in Fabien's office.

This is all 5 days after arriving. I'm still jet lagged and feeling mildly moronic, surreal, and overwhelmed in the language and visual parts of my brain.

I have bought a cell phone and 45 minutes and 100+ SMS. But in order to get a longer, more cost-efficient contract, I needed a bank account and something to put into it. So, I took the metro down to Saint Germain to Sciences Po to meet with the financial assistant. Arrived early and walked around the Blvd a bit. Yes, I know it's pathetic and sad and an offense to everything unique and good about being outside of the US, but I spotted a Starbucks, and, well, I just wanted to have a sip of bad, watery coffee. Sitting outside, in the Latin Quarter near all the schools it was interesting to see that I hadn't actually gotten all that far by crossing the Atlantic. It's still '80s-reincarnate fashion here, too, with the super tight black pants ala Johnny Rotten, the bad, baggy shirt with wide belt, and the extra effort to look tousled chic.

Meet with the lovely financial assistant who informed me her whole department had just gone through a drastic change. New director, new staff. Not sure what impact that will have, but we'll see won't we? Picked up the Stafford Loan check and made off to find a bank.

The US Embassy listed Banque Nationale de Paris at the wrong address and I thought, of course, Ave des Champs Elysees can't be too long to walk up from Saint Germain and it was a perfectly lovely day. Well. It's a long walk.

Along the way I snapped a couple of pictures of the US Embassy before I was whistled at and told "Non, Madame." Sheesh. At least he gave me directions how to get up the Avenue which, at the base near Place de la Concorde, looks like a huge park with streets just happening to run though it.

I started up what might be some of the the longest blocks yet. No numbers to be seen through the lovely park, I wasn't sure if I was on the right side of the huge Ave or if I was headed up the right direction. Spotted a moped delivery guy - if you need directions, ask the folks who know the streets best! Yup, keep heading up up up and up the Ave almost all the way to the Arc.

But there was no bank. For future reference, BNP Paribas is located at 37 Ave des Champs Elysees - on the southern side of the street. So, feeling defeated all the way up at 136 Ave des C-E, and having asked around, I just gave up a bit and decided that was as far as I'd get for the day. It wasn't the most winning moment of the week, for sure.

On the way back I decided I'd stop at Place de Clichy [Clichy Plaza] to check in with the BNP there. And although it was nearing 5pm, the bank representative gave her best shot at communicating with me. Apparently she thought that Fabien would have to be in-person with his ID card, an official bill with his address on it, and I'd have to fill out some tax paperwork, as well as have my carte de sejour and a ton of other things. There was just no way she'd be able to do it in the short time left and she wasn't in the office on Friday. Defeated again. I was only slightly annoyed though because I've lived in countries that move at a snail's pace and enjoy living more than rushing, enjoy breathing more than suffocating, places that lack the death-by-capitalism mentality. So, defeat in this endeavor wasn't a personal affront in any way.

Friday I hiked around my neighborhood trying to re-create my walk with Wilfried. That evening a few of the Americans and I met for drinks in the Marais neighborhood and spent some time bar-hopping a bit. From what I could see it's going to be a very interesting year. As I said to a previous colleague of mine, "I went out last Fri with 3 of the 5 Americans in my program - Kimberly, ex-aide to Sen Patty Murray (pro-choice) and ex-air reserve or something from Seattle (here w her boy-friend who works for Microsoft so they have the phat party pad); Deena, consultant from Chicago (26 years old!! I feel old) here w her boy-friend who is doing his post-doc in some weird nuclear physics math science engineering thing; and Sean, recently got out of the army and is disappointed after Iraq, from Dallas and voting for Hillary. Nice argument between Kimberly the Obama Girl and him. Deena, her boyfriend, their friend from UK and I just watched." It wasn't a heated debate, but personalities definitely came through in the evening. I don't want to make any statements on how I think they are or who I think they are yet. But I can see Kimberly and I getting along through our Type A personalities. Deena and I through our natural need to worry and care for others. Sean and I as revellesrs.

It was Deena and her boyfriend who showed me how to work the Noctilien bus and get from Chatelet back home. Thank goodness they were around. I'm still not ready to attempt a bike ride on Velib at night after a few drinks.

And it was Kimberly who told me how easy it was to get a bank account at the BNP on Champs Elysees. So, Monday I went back. And it was a lot easier as they're more comfortable dealing with tourists, students, ex-pats. I met a wonderful bank representative who speaks English and walked me through all the steps. I had to sign quite a bit of papers detailing the account, but other than a passport there wasn't much needed. A few days after I received a signature-required letter confirming that I live at my address and done deal. Of course, it will take a bit of time for the Stafford check to clear (3 weeks apparently) and for the wire transfer to settle (5 days?). But I have a bank!

[Sunday, after stopping by the gallery and seeing Fabien, I pushed on south to Montparnasse where I read in my tour guide that there's an art flea market outside on Sundays. Saw some amazing stuff and some completely unimpressive work, too.]

Tuesday night I went to the art opening [see above].


.... more to come ... bedtime for now in prep for my first day at school! Oh, I wonder who will pin my name and bus number on my smock! And, will the kids like me and will I like my teachers?! Kidding..

Next new exciting adventure.

How to go to graduate school in Paris

Subtitle: Especially if you're attending a new program - or maybe that's irrelevant and we can just call it Over-Planning USA Girl versus French System and Culture.

Sub-subtitle: How to go to the Master of Public Affairs program at Sciences Po.
(*A new program, based in English, having just graduated its first class in June 2007. I like to think of it as a young, vital alumni network. No jokes though, the grads were pretty damn lucky: "The MPA was proud to host His Highness the Aga Khan, key note speaker for the Graduation Ceremony in honor of the Class of 2007..")

So...
Where to start? Which foot first? Forward? Backward? Side-step? Two-step?

Put your left foot in and shake it all around.



Over-Planner Girl decided to lay it all out on paper. I come from modest means, worked for a non-profit for 6 years, and have no trust fund. I do have my wits, my health, a great family, fabulous lovers, wonderful friends and colleagues (whom I consider friends), and a few plants that I know love me despite my sporadic watering.

My list became such (a living document that floats between me and my financial adviser, my father, about once a week - we title each revision with a new "v.6" or whatever):

Sciences Po, Paris, France – Master of Public Affairs (it's good to title things)
Curriculum
Student Guide 2007-2008

The Curriculum link is there to let it sink in exactly what the hell you'll be studying.
The Student Guide: it may very well take a lot of searching to find this link - remember to bookmark links like crazy. They call the web a rabbit hole and you fall down just like Alice. But some websites are like ant farms - weaving down around up and about. You might try to return to where you originally started, but damn it all if you lost that original home page and none of the others have the same layout so you forget what you were even looking for in the beginning. All I'm saying is use your "open window in new tab" function a lot or bookmark like crazy. Anyway, the student guide has good information - in French, yet very helpful.

(Yeah, that reminds me. I am not fluent in French. I will be. But I'm not now. I spent three of my formative years in Buenos Aires and learned Castellano pretty well. During that time, in about 9th grade, I took a year of French from Madame Bousquet - god bless her. The boys considered her a MILF. The girls could have cared less about French. But somehow she drilled it into us in a very friendly, fashionably black way. When I visited Paris, I used what little I could remember - ou est l'toilet? s'il vous plaît - est-ce que - il y a - etc... And I have to say that I did not sense any disrespect or shunning or snobbery from anyone that I ran in to during those three days. Yes, granted, three days. But I really do think they take into consideration your effort. I also thank Mme B for the amazing accent she gave us. I recall distinctly when she explained that her accent, and the French we would learn, would be from central Paris. I wondered how many other places there were in the world that spoke French. My French does not suck. It has a long way to go, but I can at least read the Student Guide. And, um, you might want to get a grasp, too.)

Euro deposit for placement in program √
7000+ students at Sciences Po, 2300 are international

(Checkmarks are helpful - as is the strikethrough script. It's also fine to reaffirm and comfort yourself as you go through the list of things you need to do or know.)

The application fee is a non-refundable processing fee for submission of your dossier.
The deposit is the first payment of your tuition and will be deducted from the first installment you must pay when you register in September.

The study trip (there is only one study trip in the first year): All the airfares, accommodation and transportation relating to the visits are covered by your tuition (as are breakfast and one or two dinners). Other meals will be at your expense. All students will go on the study trip, they are not application-based.

2007-2008 Cost estimates (insert your own denominations here - one column for Euros one for USD)
First year tuition
Application fee
Accommodation (700/month x 12)
Utilities (50/month x 12)
Food (500/month x 12)
Culture / Leisure
Transportation (50/month x 12)
Health services/insurance
Books
Storage (USA)
Travel
Personal expenses
International flights (1 round trip or 1 one-way?)
MacBook laptop and all the buttons and whistles

Total - in Euros and USD

How to afford this:
Stafford unsubsidized
Stafford subsidized
Personal loan


Repeat for 2008-2009


Calendar
June-September: apartment hunting and securing
June-July: secure Stafford subsidized loan
July: One-way plane ticket, Mac computer, secure personal loan, find original birth certificate, 14 passport-sized photos (2: visa, 4: Carte de séjour, 4: school, 4: anything else),
August: U-haul moving trailer (Sun 8/12 10am – Mon 8/13 10am), U-Haul storage 8/01/07-08/01/09, health insurance, phone?, workplace health insurance for 8/1 – 8/31, Visa in Chicago 8/6, check Stafford Loan paperwork with ASA, secure health insurance, phone?, workplace IRA rollover?, life insurance?

Payments to Sciences Po:
TUITION DATES. The dates for tuition payment for 2007-2008 are the following :
--One payment by international transfer before October 31st 2007
OR
--4 installments
1) 25% at the time of registration (along with social security and complementary health insurance payment as required). This can be made by cheque or credit card payment at the Student Administration office.
2) 25% December 3rd
3) 25% February 11th
4) 25% April 21st
June-Sept ‘08: Internship [return to USA? FR? Other?]; travel expenses; housing

Stay tuned to our next episodes as we discuss:

The major headers / issues for the calendar and plotting the rest of your life include:

Financial Aid - the Stafford Loan, financial entities that give loans and aren't corrupt, the Loan Police, and realizing that there is good debt and investment debt and stop sweating you're not having a heart attack it's okay to owe a bit here and there.

Housing - the ins and outs of Craigslist and other websites, to colocate (roommates) or not, where to look, what are the agency fees and what are the charges, an attic room made for a 16 century maid or a 2-bedroom, the CAF, a picture tells a thousand words or how to trust your intuition, wire transfers, and reminders that USA is big and Europe is more condense.

Visa - the elaborate system to get the sticker with my ugly photo on it (thanks, Walgreens), the paperwork, the registration, the paperwork, the copies, the originals, the notorizing, the drive, the wait, the approval by some totally cute boy behind glass wearing such a great tie and pants combo.

Medical insurance - Europe is ageist, get coverage, get covered.

Travel - a round-trip ticket requires that you return within 365 days, get a one-way and make people visit YOU for the holidays.

Moving/Storage - getting from here to there and still keeping those things you acquired while you were a grown-up.

Phone - we think we're so free in the USA - get a phone in Europe.

Computer - I switched to a MacBook and went all out on it.

Transport in Paris - following the links on the right I found out about Velib, add annual membership to Velib into budget but are there other costs? Metro, buy a bike, taxi, bus, mule, ride a Remy?

Banking in Paris - which bank, how bank, patience bank.

As you can see, some of these items I have yet to really find out about. So, stick around to see how it all pans out.





So, yeah, on a totally personal note, I haven't really cried too much yet. I've lived here for 6 years and have made some amazing friends and have loved my job - I'm quitting to further my career not because I want to escape it.

It hasn't felt too hard to leave, but leaving feels hard. I've been tempering my excitement and have rather blushed when telling folks around here that I was going to Paris for grad school. I say that it's a departure for me - knowing full well that I've traveled all my life except for spending the longest amount of consecutive time here. I say that, knowing full well that my supervisor always reminds me of the time when we were interviewing her - about 2 years into my job - and I informed her that I wouldn't be here much longer and that I was going to go to grad school. I guess there's something to be said for incubation.

It's kind of odd though. Once you tell people you're leaving there's a window of time for your welcome and spotlight. After about a month people tire of hearing about you leaving and after 2 good-bye parties they're ready to see you to the door. For the movers-on it's a bit harder. Although it's always been said that it's more difficult for the left-behind. While it seems that everyone around me has moved on and keeps trucking, I feel a little stagnant - packing, seeing the same walls day after day, wondering what they're doing, spying through the secret left-over passcode entry email. And I know what it's like to be left. You gotta pick up and move on, continue on, feel the sting of the pain of sadness and then keep going. If the sting keeps reappearing over and over it makes the separation harder. I got new glasses and showed my ex-boyfriend (now good friend). I went from thick rimmed glasses to no rims. "What's different about them? I can't remember what you wore before." The after-work drinks I was going to get a week after I quit suddenly disapated into one person going on early vacation, another having her parents in town, and suddenly you slip off the calendar because life continues.

I don't expect to be noticed or remembered. I just wasn't ready to be forgotten so soon.

I've been looking forward for a long time though. I think that's why I haven't cried much yet. I will feel that homesickness when I get there. I will want to look back and thank god for online photo albums so I can cry over this and that back then.

But there are these odd little things that make me tear up:
I didn't wash the towel my last lover used and when I packed it I felt sad. In cleaning and packing I found a few things my ex might want. It's almost like break-up all over: these should be your things. The last Friday in town when the sun is setting so perfectly rosy over the buildings and lakes. The sound of the buzzing cicadas on fire. The slow yellow glow added to the green leaves as a sign of autumn. The last dive weekend where each block hosts a pile of used couches, clothes, desks, cookery, tvs, more clothes, books. The last time I visit my local liquor store.

I did my tarot cards last night. No, I'm not a hippie but I got it as a gift and tried it once and it was dead on. So, every now and then, I tap in. It confirmed only good things in the future, only good lessons in the past.

We shall see. Nous verrons.