Here's how it was. "Dmitry, come in. There's an envelope for you here," the head of the international relations department of our university invited me into her office. On the table lay a beige envelope with my name on it. This meant one thing: all my efforts, all the gathering of signatures, all the steps I had taken were not in vain, although there was no particular hope or belief. I was accepted. The French Institute of Political Sciences, Sciences Po, deemed me quite worthy of interning with them for a semester.
Feelings are mixed: on the one hand, I am very glad to have the wonderful opportunity to study abroad. Surprised that it is so simple—just by collecting all the necessary documents—you can participate in the student exchange program between our university and the Parisian one. On the other hand, independent life is a bit frightening, perhaps. Moreover, this form of internship does not include any daily allowances or free housing; life in Paris is not cheap, and so four months "on the French side" will cost a pretty penny. Nevertheless, there is no turning back, and it would be illogical in any case to refuse such an experience.
Housing in Paris is an eternal problem, recently becoming the subject of numerous discussions; films are even made about how difficult and expensive it is to find a place. Supply is significantly less than demand, and therefore prices are sky-high. Students have a chance to get into the "Cité Universitaire," the only student dormitory in Paris. The conditions are acceptable, the price is very low (about €250 per month), but the selection is very strict. I was refused immediately because I am a third-year student, and the dormitory is provided only to senior students. By the way, I recently visited this dormitory on the weekend and realized that it would not be studying but endless parties. I, like most foreign students, had to look for an apartment. The lowest price category is €300-350; that's a tiny space somewhere in the suburbs, which you have to share with 4-5 other students, with amenities in the hallway. Renting a more or less decent apartment starts from €500 per month, but you still have to try hard to snag one. My housing search was lengthy, but in the end, Sasha, my classmate, and I settled on a beautiful one-bedroom apartment in the elite 16th arrondissement of Paris, a 15-minute walk from the Eiffel Tower. I considered this apartment beautiful until my dear neighbor moved out, which meant paying double rent until the end of the internship.
Upon arrival, I still had a whole week before the start of the new semester. During those seven days, I essentially got to know the capital of France anew, since the last time I was here was around 1995. I must say that when "trees were big," the Eiffel Tower did not seem so majestic. The first glance at it paralyzed me—although, perhaps, the point is that I saw it in the evening. It is not without reason that the French affectionately call the tower "the dear prostitute," for during the day it is gray and unpainted, but with the onset of darkness it appears in all its glory, shimmering with millions of lights and, like all classic pilgrimage sites for tourists in Paris, urged support for the French capital as a candidate to host the 2012 Olympic Games. In other respects, Paris attracts with its presentable appearance: it is precisely thanks to the cleanliness of the streets that one gets the feeling that you are "abroad," not at home.
As for the French themselves, for the most part they constitute the "middle sex." But this applies to my peers, that is, young people. Everyone dresses exclusively according to a sense of comfort. As a result, girls are much inferior to ours—they are unfeminine. Strange, because it is femininity that is traditionally emphasized in French women. The second common stereotype is the supposedly absurd feminism and the struggle for gender equality in France. Perhaps such tendencies can be traced in appearance, cosmetics are abolished as a class (or have no effect), but as for behavior and reaction to manifestations of politeness, French women are much better off than ours. Apparently, they so rarely get a seat or have a door held open for them that gallant behavior, to which our girls are accustomed, is a shock for French ones. I am afraid this is a shortcoming of French men, who do not pay enough attention to their compatriots.
It is strange how perfect unceremoniousness and at the same time responsiveness coexist in the French character.
Van drivers drive with one foot on the steering wheel, in the metro a man next to me yawned so widely that I got scared, and some guy was wiping boogers off his jacket over the course of three or four stops. An African-American couple was quarreling in front of all the metro passengers: the man desperately hid behind the curtain of the "Express Photo" booth, while the woman, sparing no vocal cords, screamed at him. Moreover, this kind of relaxed atmosphere, apparently, liberates not only the French: once in the metro we met a Slovak woman who showed us, as if we were dentists, all her teeth and asked if a lot of poppy seeds from her bun were stuck there. Personally, I found this somewhat inappropriate, while Sasha began pointing with his finger to show her between which exactly teeth there were the most poppy seeds. Why have all normal, sane people hidden somewhere?
On the other hand, any passerby is ready not only to tell you in detail how to get to your destination, but also to walk you there; and sincerely regrets if they cannot help. One middle-aged Arab, unable to tell me which aisle in the store to find salt, set aside his purchases and went to look for it for me. Astonishing...
Getting to know the French nation happens mainly on public transport. Metro rides are one of the three components of a working Parisian's daily routine: "metro-boulot-dodo" (metro-work-sleep). The metro is relatively convenient at the expense of beauty - everything is cheap and cheerful. The station layout is confusing: no circular lines, transfers are not always clear, when the direction is determined only by the name of the terminal station, which for a non-Parisian unaccustomed to it can become a problem. Sometimes there are forks on the lines - and in order to get to the right station, you have to look at the train's direction. Sometimes stations are so close that standing on the platform of one, you can see the platform of the next through the tunnel. Or vice versa: to get to a station that is a 25-minute walk away, you have to make three transfers. Strikes are very frequent, as a result of which two or three lines are completely paralyzed. Stops are not announced, so there's no time to sleep. Doors do not open automatically; you have to pull the handle or press a button. Last century, by God. The only advantages: stations located every 500 meters and high speed of trains. The fare leaves much to be desired: as for any other type of public transport, one trip costs €1.40. Few people ride without paying, and it's not that easy - there are plenty of tricky turnstiles, and inspectors conduct checks. Although personally I encountered them only once.
Finally, as for the internship itself. The academic system in Paris is not like ours - even despite the fact that our university recently adopted the Bologna system. First, students are given almost unlimited freedom to choose disciplines from the very beginning. Depending on the cycle (group of courses) and the program, it is necessary to accumulate a certain number of credits before each semester (at least 30). A course that includes lectures and seminars gives nine credits; one consisting only of seminars - four; a language course - three; a sports section or club - two. As a result, the standard set for a Sciences Po student is: two difficult courses (9+9), two easy ones (4+4), one language course and one additional section (3+2) - totaling 31 credits. The list of disciplines is the same for all students of the year, regardless of specialty.
Such boundless freedom, in my opinion, is ineffective. For example, in our group on the course 'EU Economics' there are guys who have three semesters of economic theory behind them, and there are also those who ask questions: what is the difference between a budget deficit and government debt? Basically, the principle of constructing the curriculum is identical across all disciplines. At the first seminar, a 'debriefing' is held - students choose from the list of assignments for the semester the topics they like, and allocate days for oral presentations. If in our case this has the character of a 'cartel agreement' among students, here everything is quite official. Types of assignments: a review of the press or thematic literature, an essay, an interview with a specialist. But I must say that the level of education in Paris is significantly inferior to ours. Perhaps it's all about this system of free choice.
Next, it should be noted that there are practically no students who study 'reluctantly', skip classes, or 'slack off'. Everyone is quite responsible; the collective nature of most assignments does not allow working carelessly - the grade is given to the whole group. The grade matters to everyone except, amusingly, our interns. The fact is that Sciences Po students in their third year are required to go on a one-year internship abroad; hence the exchange agreement with our university. A form with grades from previous courses is shown upon admission to one or another institution; upon return, the grades obtained abroad are presented, and the student is transferred to the fourth year. The same applies to foreign students interning at Sciences Po. Only Russians can ignore the grades - back home they will have to take all the exams they missed. So most of our students I met in Paris wave their hand at this studying. As for me... I realized that I am only getting the language here. Everything that is said at seminars, as a rule, I already know. And besides, my schedule - on average one class a day - does not predispose to cramming in the library.
The level of technical equipment at the university is high. The difference from our institutions, which also have plenty of computers, is that every student and teacher has their own institutional email address; they exchange ideas on seminar topics and send homework assignments. In my opinion, it is very convenient. Teachers warn: "So that you don't come after the deadline with excuses: like, the printer broke, or cartridges or paper ran out."
An abundance of free time is typical for our student in Paris. Many use it to work as well. The classic job for a foreign student is the service sector. Waiter - this profession attracts students the most. The supply is huge, the demand is much less. They don't take just anyone: my female classmate managed to get a job, my neighbor - apparently not. The specialty of bartender is more in demand. One can get a job as a cashier in some fast-food joint a la McDonald's. Girls can work as nannies for the neighbor's daughter; such cases are known to me. Russian-speaking students are speakers of a currently fashionable language: Europeans have always been drawn to exoticism, and the Russian language is truly exotic. Hence the interest in Slavs and the need for tutors-helpers. But counting on getting a job in a long-established Russian establishment on the Champs-Elysees is a hopeless matter. There is no point even trying; the staff there doesn't change for years, and they certainly won't take anyone for temporary work.
Most often, hiring is illegal, since a temporary visa (as in our case, for six months) does not allow working officially. Endless rounds of various establishments, handing out resumes - sometimes all efforts are in vain. Advice for those who go to study abroad hoping to earn some money: you need to be absolutely sure that you will be hired, and a prior agreement is desirable. It is much easier for those who come to intern not for a semester, but at least for a year. Moreover, it is easier in all respects - you can both work and receive a housing allowance (compensation of about 20% of the monthly rent). Benefits for transport and telecommunications services are very important - for temporary residents, tariffs are unrealistic, something like 45 cents per minute of conversation. As for salary, even with "gray" hiring, they do not pay less than the minimum wage, which in France is about €7.5 per hour. Not bad money, but it is difficult to find work.
I have been in Paris for two months, with the same amount remaining - I catch myself counting the days. The euphoria of a change of scenery gradually gives way to a feeling of the ordinariness of daily trips to the institute, visits to nearby supermarkets, and other "everyday grind" of a difficult and, most notably, far from cheap Parisian life. But I don't have to be sad for long; fortunately, I am always busy with something, and besides, there are holidays - I can go home for a week.
A foreign land can very quickly get boring, become tiresome, and kill any desire to live abroad permanently. In any case, when you are alone - and when you are at home, you are never alone. So wait for me! "If I don't drink myself to death at a merry party, I will definitely return to you, my friends!"