In August, Mlle P and I spent two weeks camping in Aix and the Luberon, one of the areas on our shortlist. Driving through the countryside, with roads lined by mature trees, the colours gradually changing into the autumn palette, I felt like I was driving though a car advert. In Aix, we came upon a café on the Cour Mirabeau where the friendly waiter gave Mlle P a straw with a fold out pineapple attached. Hoping to start a “straw with fold out fruits-collection”, we became regulars and spent hours watching tourists and locals. I was amazed at how slim the women were, and how, no matter what age, they all seemed to wear very short, tight fitting dresses. And the men – so well groomed! I phoned up Monsieur P and told him to buy a selection of white linen shirts in preparation for the move.
To get a feel for the French school system, we decided to make some visits. Ecole Privee Val Saint Andre, conveniently, was right near our campsite. The headmistress took the time to chat, the school was small and friendly. Mlle P was impressed and wanted to start straight away when she discovered that the twin brother of her favourite teddy, Eye-eye (so-called to make up for the fact that he only has one eye), was the school mascot. But the main teaching language was English, and although cheaper than the international school, it was still expensive. We also paid a visit to a small Protestant school, where the main teaching language was French. I loved the family atmosphere, but as a lapsed Protestant, religion played a more central role in the teaching than I felt comfortable with.
Back to the drawing board and the Mairie to find out about the state schools. We were redirected to the office for schools, at an address which turned out not to exist. We stumbled across the office by luck later on, half an hour before closing time on a Friday, the last day of inscription. The place was in chaos, with a lot of harassed staff running around. Luckily, there was a temp who spoke some English.
The rules were (I think) that we would be allocated a place in a state school, maybe close to where we lived, although there was no guarantee, as soon as we had an address. One of the staff told us there were some schools with special assistance for non-French speakers, but she was not sure which ones they where. Her colleague denied the existence of such schools, and a third member of staff said yes, the special assistance did exist, but not at Maternelle. In any event, I would have to write a letter to apply for a place in one of these schools (which might exist or not), although no place could be guaranteed.
We walked back out into the busy streets of Aix, more confused than when we came, but feeling very proud of ourselves for getting through a full day of French bureaucracy without crying. Then we bought two big ice-creams to celebrate.
Back home in the UK, we are mulling over Aix and the Luberon. Commuting to the area from Copenhagen was more awkward than we though (Monsieur P. made a week-end visit while we were out there). Nice may be a more realistic choice for us to reduce the stress of commuting. The search continues.