Tuesday 12 January 2010

French Uni, what the hell is that ?


Well first of all one should know that it is divided in different sectors, the public, the private and the more or less public/private ones. As expected, the more money is invested in your education, the better its going to be. I’m not going to talk about the private universities , as they function pretty well ( But let’s not forget that that means a good education only for the wealthy or the “lucky in misfortune” who can get scholarships).
For the rest, which is the most of us, university rhymes with disorder. Everything starts around June when one should choose his degree and register. Usually first years have to pay in July straight after their high school studies have wraped up; The university gives them an appointment on a large timetable during the summer break; you had better be there – don’t even dream of a holiday in the south to celebrate the end of school! For those who miss the boat they can sign-on in September, but it is guaranteed to be a mess. You will have to queue with second and third year students, and your mere presence will annoy everyone. If you come armed with a credit card, you will be refused in most universities - Cheques only! Sorry. Two years ago my university introduced payment by credit card, guess what? Half of the payments did not work and students had to come back, queue for 2 hours, then pay by cheque!
But how much should you pay for your education in such a public system? For a degree you can expect from 150 to 200 euros per year, which is a rip off and anyway, since you will most likely never be in class due to a strike. To any degree, you must also add the cost of compulsory health: 300 euros. So Uni for free ? That’s a bit of a myth - it would be only for the “boursiers”, the ones that get scholarships according to severe criteria.
Now let’s get back to the university’s system and more especially to bureaucracy; a Scary word in every language; especially French. The “Administration” with a capital A, is part of the French world, present in every public service, you always have to deal with the same dumb woman that will send you to another department because her coffee/smoke break isn’t finished yet or because she is busy as hell….drinking coffee/smoking. Well not surprising really; all those people are recruited having passed an entrance exam or “concours” that gives you a job for life – a sacred cow! Very reassuring for all those people to know they can’t be dismissed. Laziness settles as a slogan in those offices where documents wait for someone’s attention. As a consequence do not expect your degree for at least a year after you finished your course, wait and queue to change timetables, exam marks, and be ready to have the door shut in your face if by mistake you knock on the door at 11.50am when it is said to close at 12. Oh, and do not forget it is only open Monday, Tuesday and Thursday from 10 am to 12am and 2pm to 4pm, it will avoid you some useless trips to uni…
Next, not only does your university bureaucracy want to put you to death but your teachers too…Good times!

As a post script, I don’t mean to promote anything to do with a well renowned social networking website, but it just so happens that it has a very accurat group about this said topic : “L'administration de ma fac n'est qu'un vaste complot visant à m'éliminer” which could be translated by “my university bureaucracy is only a large plot in order to eliminate me”.

Monday 11 January 2010

The small things in life - At last!


Well since this blog is apparently about the small things in life, I think its probably about time I started writing about them. One of my personal small joys is that of number plate spotting – pretty useless in a place like Australia or America , where each state has a different colour and slogan proudly declaring the vehicles origin. Euros do things a little differently with the use of coded number plates – where some of the letters and numbers refer to the vehicles age and region where it was registered – fortunately this also means a big no no to silly custom personalized number plates – which often proudly declare the drivers initials and birth date in Australia. To get back to the topic, I have always taken joy whilst travelling in Europe and recognising a foreign cars location when it is some 500 km from home, and today it happened again. Strangely though im back in Australia and it was a British number plate on the riverside expressway in Brisbane, but it wasn’t any UK number plate, but one registered in Nottinghamshire – my home for a year not so long ago. Oh and the fact it was on a Ferrari was completely irrelevant!