Moving to France really made me feel like a grown up. I got a job, found an apartment, found a roommate, signed a lease in another language, opened a bank account, got a doctor, made lesson plans and started actually teaching, the list goes on and on.
But last Friday, my ability to handle the unexpected was tested. Annnnnnnnnnd I passed ...by the skin of my teeth. Here's what happened:
I had gotten home from my day at school (where one of my students told me that his girlfriend is pregnant, #reallife) and changed into my sweatpants, and was happily washing dishes and singing along to some music when my buzzer rang. Surprised, I wondered who it could be.... maybe someone was sending me a package!!!! "Oui?" I answered via my intercom. "We're here to sweep the chimney" said the voice on the other end, and I buzzed them up, remembering the sign posted in the hallway of my building about the Chimney Sweeps passing by this week. (Thanks for nothing, blog readers and POTENTIAL PACKAGE SENDERS!!)
Aside from the 80 euros it cost me to have the chimney swept (I love being broke and waiting for my paycheck to process through), the chimney sweeps quietly went about their work. Just before they left, however, they informed me that they smelled gas and that I should call Gaz de France (the gas provider) immédiatement, because it was really très sérieux.
And, here comes the part where I do an awesome job of navigating the real world. A bit shaken due to the surprise chimney sweep visit, the 80 euros flying out of my hands, and being told in French that THERE IS A GAS LEAK, I did the first thing that popped into my head: called my parents. I reached them on my Dad's cell phone because they were in the car on the way to visit my grandfather's grave in Pennsylvania and have lunch with much of the PA Frank clan. My SAINT OF A mother told me just to remain calm and call the gas people (duh).
So I followed her sage advice and ended up calling the electric company (a subdivision of the gas company, rockin) and realized that I need a Client ID so I couldn't call the gas people anyway. Also, calling the electric company in France isn't the price of a normal call, they actually charge you 40 cents a minute. And put you on hold. EXCELLENT. I LOVE THE (FRENCH) REAL WORLD. So after that fun mini-adventure, I called my landlady and left a message asking her to call the gas people PLEASE.
I opened a window to aerate the place and then went downstairs (because the landlady works 20 feet from the apartment, convenient when you have a gas leak) and found my landlady's secretary. She seemed skeptical but informed me she'd pass along the message and that I could just turn off the gas if I was worried. Ah, if only I knew how....
So I returned home and googled "how to turn off the gas" and then "what does a gas heater look like" and then did the really difficult task of turning the knob in the kitchen labelled "GAS" 90 degrees. Next, I called my parents AGAIN (bless) and videochatted them to make sure that I had done it correctly. They ever-so-patiently affirmed that I had.
Finally, about 45 minutes later, two repairmen appeared at my door to fix the problem.... which was two gas leaks. Nope, not one. TWO. Thank you chimney sweeps for alerting me! Before the repairmen left, I verified everything that I had learned via google... the appearance of and location of my gas meter, the hot water heater, and most importantly, how to turn off the gas. I had figured it all out correctly, with the exception of the fact that the knob that I had "correctly" turned to stop the gas is not connected to a pipe. So really, after all that panicking and googling and parent-harassing I did nothing. Coolness. (Don't worry, I found out how to realllly turn off the gas - you didn't think I'd let them get away without figuring that out, did you??)
Well if you've read this far, you know that I'm safe and sound and that my apartment did not blow up and that I now know about my gas meter. WHEW! Tomorrow I'm off to attack the French bureaucracy and go for my mandated medical visit. FUN TIMES!
Thanks for reading and have a wonderful and hopefully stress-free day!
Lurve lurve lurve,
SAMANTHA
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