Sighrens

I was warned that a lot of things in France are stuck in the past. The banks are a prime example. This whole doing business from any branch thing — they laugh at you, as if such a concept was even possible. (Fortunately, their app does seem to at least be somewhat useful. But I must still exact revenge, ideally involving lots of glitter.)

Then there’s the music. I mean, I’ve heard Gala’s Freed From Desire more times since I got here than I did in the previous 22 years of knowing this song!

But I don’t think anything quite prepares you for the national warning system. The U.S. has the Emergency Alert System. Canada has Alert Ready.

And France … well, it has this:

Just be thankful those aren’t waking you up for an Amber Alert at 3 a.m., Canada!

As it turns out, I live next to an air raid siren. But that’s not nearly as alarming as it seems. The sirens you heard were part of the monthly testing. On the first Wednesday of every month, sirens across the country go off at the same time. Rather than sending a message to your phone, they’ll just blare the sirens, so you have to guess what the emergency is.

There’s a lot about home that I don’t miss — the safe architecture, the nightlife that seems to end far too early for the most part, the lack of joie de vivre.

I do miss some things, though. Having systems that work in the 21st century is one of them.

But I guess it’s a small price to pay for the view I have.