Welcome to Absurdistan...

As you might know, I lived in France for two years, in Lyon precisely.
I arrived in Lyon in September 2005...I had my little lectrice contract with the university of Lyon (signed by the president of the university himself !), my papers, my lill' appartment (it had taken me two entire months to find one, simply because I couldn't come up with a garant, but that's a whole different story...)...at any rate, that particular day I had the most wonderful intention of opening a bank account...a bank account...not a bank, mind you, that shouldn't be too hard I thought...but little did I know...
So, I happily walk up to the first bank - I shall call them Crédit Agrécool in order to protect their identity (ahem :-) - at any rate, I charge in, my papers in my brown teacher's bag, still hopeful and pretty convinced that this will only take a minute...The dragon-lady behind the counter frowns her forehead and her 'I-can't-be-bloody-bothered-to-be-friendly' attitude instantly turns into hostility as she glances at my papers...as requested, I had brought along my ID, my work contract, my lease, my last three (!) bank statements, my tax declaration and myself...the grim looking lady looks at my pile of papers, then back at me and barks "Where's your electricity bill?" "My...ermm...electricity bill?" I ask - my eyes probably look like saucers at that point..."Yes, your electricity bill. You cannot open a bank account without an electricity bill!" Her eye-brows have a close encounter with her hairline.
"Aha...ermm...why?" I wonder. "It's the law!" she barks. I go "aha...," while the size of my saucer-eyes keeps expanding. "Errrmmm...I don't have an electricity bill...ermmm...and...I'll never have one I guess...I have toutes charges comprises (which means that my monthly rent includes all extra charges)."
"Well, you can't open a bank account without an electricity bill!" The dragon-lady scrutinizes me from head to toe with a certain air of indignation. I go: "ermmm...well, what am I supposed to do in order to open a bank account?" "I don't know, I'm afraid I can't help you," the dominatrix-turned-bank-employee retorts impatiently.
It's time to leave and I crawl back to the street on my nipples, as I can't possibly feel any smaller - at least they're very good at making you feel like crap at Crédit Agrécool...
'Hope springs eternal' I think and I give it another shot...this time I pick the Banque Papulaire (again, I have slightly altered their name, ahem)...as I walk into the bank, I notice that people are queuing up in front of the counter on the left hand side, while the one on the right hand side is completely deserted. "What a bunch of idiots" I think to myself, and with a big fat grin on my face, I walk up to the deserted counter. Something is foul in the State of Denmark, though...that was far too easy...conveniences always come with a hook, now don't they?
At any rate, I walk up to the man behind the counter and I cheerfully express my desire to open a bank account. The man behind the deserted counter stares at me and mumbles something I don't understand. I repeat my request and he mumbles back at me. I'm German, so maybe it's my accent (I generally don't have one, but who knows)...I therefore repeat my request v-e-r-y s-l-o-o-o-w-l-y...while I bend over the counter in order to hear what he is mumbling...to my absolute horror I realize that I don't understand ONE bloody word...not a single one! At that point, I'm beginning to become mildly nervous as I wonder why I can't decipher his bloody accent. The man behind the counter keeps mumbling utterances that remind me of a Northern Hungarian sociolect - I could be wrong, but it sure doesn't sound like French. I'm starting to panic...is Ashton Kutcher going to waltz in - the very next minute, but wait, I'm not a celeb, so maybe not...my mind is racing...what the Hell is going on. While I'm desperately trying to analyse the status quo, my eyes meet a little sign that sits on the counter...it reads "Our deaf-mute employee M. Chablis (yup, I changed his name too) is happy to answer your questions!" (or something to that effect) - 'Aha...deaf-mute', I think while my mind is still trying to grasp the meaning of this vital piece of information, 'DEAF-MUTE!'...what the?!? Affirmative action is grand, but this is almost as smart as recruiting a blind bus driver.
'Alrighty' I think to myself, 'don't panic.'...but I already feel like in one of those weird dreams where you stand in front of a bunch of people without your clothes on. I contemplate escape - why don't I just run away :-) I mean, he probably hasn't understood my frickin' name anyway.
I force myself to stay...it isn't his fault that he is deaf and I don't want to hurt his feelings...I stay...and I write down (!) my request on a small piece of paper that I hand over to him. He mumbles something - but he fortunately realizes that I 'don't get him'...he therefore takes another piece of paper on which he notes his answer...we happily exchange lill' pieces of paper for some time...it actually feels like I'm back at school - exchanging secret messages with my girlfriends.
To cut a long story short...he managed to let me know that I need an electricity bill in order to open a bank account...yup...same shit, different bank!
I guess I went to every single bank in Lyon and only three (!) months later (after many-a sleepless nights and a nervous breakdown) I eventually got a bank account at BNP-Paris-Bac (yep...I changed their name - you guessed it!)...they accepted me sans electricity bill...maybe because the bank happened to be situated in the same street, opposite my appartment...
Sigh...vive la France!

The photos above were all taken in Lyon/France. The first one is a shot of a spiral staircase in one of the many 'Traboules', the 2nd one is a Renaissance court yard and the three pics below were taken during the 'fête des lumières' which takes place every year on the 8th of December. The whole city is illuminated...it's absolutely gorgeous!