Today it Got Real, Part Deux

A lot has occurred since we made the offer for the bar on July 2. We translated and reviewed the compromis (the first official sale document) and managed to get it signed on the last possible day before our realtor and the notaire in charge of the compromis left for August vacation. We got our tour company, Catharsys Expeditions, incorporated and began working on thoughts for tours to start next year. I began a database of local wineries, including info on the varietals they use and their locations relative to the bar. That database now has more than 300 wineries and 350 grape varietals, and I am only just getting started. We dealt with a car being totaled. We moved a kid into his dorm for his sophomore year of college. And except for that little trip, and a few random events like axe throwing with our dance club, nearly ever hour of my every day has been spent getting ready to take over the bar and move to France. So you would think it would have gotten real long before today. Indeed, I thought it had. I had no idea.

So why today? Well, today I began my mandatory restaurant hygiene and alcohol law “formations” (I found out I should call them classes) that I have to complete in order to have the liquor license transferred to me. I came in with some trepidation about having to learn in French. And my fears were confirmed, not during the class, but before the class even started.

Those of you who know me know that I find it impossible to be late, or frankly, even on time. I am always, always early. Everyone in my family can tell you that this is not my fault - given my parentage, I never had a chance. And given that I was not familiar with the area where I was taking the formation, or how the traffic would be on a Monday morning in Nimes, I left extra early. Even though I had to drive around for a while to find a parking space, I was half an hour early and, not surprisingly, the first person there. The office assistant offered me coffee and showed me to a terrace where I could wait. As I sat enjoying my coffee (and I use the French version of that word, meaning nothing that most Americans would recognize or appreciate as coffee, but instead a rich, dark espresso), the teacher arrived. She introduced herself and then started asking me questions. Her speech was so rapid that I felt like a machine gun had been unleashed on me. So, despite my best efforts, I could not understand (or really even hear) a word she said; instead, I just kept hearing Freddie Mercury singing “Out of the doorway the bullets rip, to the sound of the beat.” And another one bites the dust.

Watching the verbal assault was basically an out-of-body experience. I could see myself sitting there with a stupefied expression on my face. I could see the teacher realizing she was going to have a difficult student. And I could feel the dawning realization that I would have to deal with this each of the next five days. Every day. All day long. Using technical language. And French legal language. And vocabulary there would have been no reason for me to learn in all the years I took French. At that point, I almost just went towards the light.

Ah, you say, now I understand why it got real. Nope. Not there yet. The teacher excused herself to deal with some preparatory issues. My body grabbed ahold of the tether keeping my soul around and reassembled the two into one. As I came out of my stupor, I thought I would leave a little note for those back home so they could have a laugh when they woke up. Meaning I wrote a Facebook post saying what an interesting day this would be and why. But someone was already up, mainly because they live in Ginestas. In fact, it was the current owner of the bar, Jerome. He responded with a huge laughing emoji, and said (in French) “Just starting to get you used to working at the bar.” And THAT is when it got real.

It never got better throughout the day. Instead of just the teacher, add in 3 French students, and the barrage only intensified. Think of being in a bunker during the Battle of the Bulge, only the bunker is too small for you to hide in it. Everyone was exceedingly nice and did their best to deal with my lacking French, but it was quite a difficult and exhausting day. Did I understand it? Yes, a lot of it. But certainly not all of it. Enough to pass the quiz at the end and get my formation? Fingers crossed. I think so. Here’s the question all the kids will appreciate: Enough to get more than a C on the quiz? I doubt it. Could I have done it without frequent doses of coffee? Surely you jest. However, one day is done and I haven’t been expelled, so thumbs up.

It is fairly hard to complain when I get to come back to Nimes and wander around and then have a wonderful dinner outside. This evening, before dinner, I went to the Jardins de la FontaIne (pictures below), a section of Nimes I had not previously visited. It was a lovely walk, and I also got to experience one of the things that I consider most representative of Southern France: people playing pétanque. The evening ends with me feeling refreshed and still in love with France and the idea that I can and will pass this class so that I can run the bar.

Now I know many of you will say I am much more cold than Alison, given her reasons that it got real. But do not doubt I feel that way as well. Not on this trip as much, because I know I will be back in the States soon. Instead, as she can tell you, the thing that makes the separation real for me is certain songs. In particular, the line in Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You” that says “Didn’t mean to miss your birthday baby, I wish I’d seen you blow those candles out.” Because her birthday is November 18, right around the time I will be leaving. Doesn’t get more real than that.

Alright, so what exactly did I learn today? Well, I learned that in France there are five categories of beverages, only recently they condensed two of them into one, so now there are four: 1, 3, 4 and 5. I learned that those groups are very interesting; for instance, I can’t sell distilled spirits, because will only have a License III. But distilled spirits are broken up between groups 4 and 5. So, rum is in group 4, but vodka and gin are in group 5. And things like pastis are also in group 5. Group 1? Don’t worry about it. Non-alcoholic stuff. Unless it is fermented, like non-alcoholic beer, then it is in group 3. I learned that there are really two levels of license for a bar (levels III and IV for selling alcohol to be consumed in place), only there are different licenses if you want to run a restaurant and sell alcohol (for selling alcohol to be consumed in place or taken away), and different licenses for grocers who simply sell alcohol to be taken away. Although they are all really the same two licenses, as they are tied to different groups of beverages. As a level III licensee, I can sell groups 1 and 3. I learned whether or not you can prevent a 17-year-old from coming into your discotheque, and whether you can allow someone who is younger than 16 in your bar alone. And, above all, I learned that I get detention tomorrow morning to have special remedial sessions with the teacher!

And what lessons do I have for those considering following their dreams and heading overseas to buy a bar or restaurant?

1. Learn as much as you can of the language BEFORE you have to come take classes in it - particularly if you can pick up some terms that are relevant to the industry. General language lessons such as I have had over the years will only get you so far.

2. Learn what documents you will need to have in order to start or take over your bar, who they will have to go to, and the consequences of completing each properly and improperly.

3. Use English language resources to learn some legal basics (this I had already done).

4. Get a foreign lawyer Involved early in the process.

And most importantly:

5. Don’t let administrative issues or fears stop you from doing it!

Stay tuned for more adventures of L’Americain a Nimes. And if your French is better than mine and you have a great desire to work in a bar in a beautiful part of Southern France, send me your resume. I’ve got a place you won’t be able to resist.