This week I finally received my Carte Vitale. This is the thing that opens all of the doors to the health system in France. It says “We have accepted you, and you reside in this country.” A visa is fine and dandy, but the Carte Vitale is what demonstrates that you are part of the fabric of France.
Somehow this one little green card is the thing that makes this all feel real.
This afternoon I finally got out for nice walk. For several days and evenings I had been hearing live music from somewhere beyond the castle next door to us, Le Château des Ducs.
I walked through the big steel gates, and out through the other side of the grounds, turned right, and found myself at the Parc des Promenades.
At the far end of the Parc is a small crepe stand, and an enclosure with rabbits and chickens. Beyond that is a great fountain, surrounded by a large concrete plaza.
Except that because it’s summer, and holiday time for everyone, the plaza has been buried under a couple of feet of sand; play structures, and food stands, and a stage for performers have all been set up. Despite being many hours away from the ocean, the children of Alençon can have a wonderful afternoon at the beach.
At the same time over the last week, there has been a nightly parade under our windows and heading in the same direction. Two guys wheeling a cart with a big PA playing music, one or two gigantic puppets, and a crowd of fifty or seventy people, children, dogs, and confused tourists, all following them from wherever they started to wherever they were going. This picture is from our living room window.
The week before that had been Quatorze Juillet, the French National Day - what English speakers - but no-one in France - call Bastille Day. In actual fact nothing happened on the 14th. That day was a near complete shut down, and everyone stayed with family and friends for a well-deserved rest.
The events happened the night before, on the 13th, with a free concert on a stage about 100 meters from our back windows, and then a massive fireworks display.
And again, everyone came out for the celebration.
What struck me most though was the tone of all of these. I’ve been in Ottawa for Canada Day, and in Niagara Falls, and it always felt to me as if our national holiday came with a great amount of baggage, and significant expectations; as if we, Canadians, had an obligation to stand up and proclaim to the world, and to each other, that this really is the greatest country, and that we can easily match the unbridled patriotism of the Americans.
To me it has always felt as if this frenzy of Canadian celebration was rooted in a deep and powerful feeling of inadequacy; as if however much we love the country, we still aren’t quite as good as the Americans, or the Europeans for that matter.
The one thing that you won’t hear a French person talk about is how great the country is. Instead there’s a quiet and fundamental understanding that this a wonderful place to live, that every transaction that begins with “Bonjour” will turn out fine, and that at the heart of all of this is a government that exists to support and nurture the people who live here.
When you are a resident of France, you have security.
I like that, very, very much, and I now have a little green card that proves that I too am part of the country where I live.
The secret is that lots of people have visas, and they say that you’re allowed to be here. A Carte Vitale though says that you are French, not just a visitor.
(There is of course, as it is France, now a process to make the Carte Vitale active, then to get set up with Ameli, the agency that manages health care spending and processes, and then Mon Espace Santé, the website where my health records will live. I am told that any pharmacy can handle all of this, and I have no reason to doubt that the lovely, friendly people at the Pharmacie Halle au Blé will sort it all out.)
(Then of course we need to talk to the company that handles our mutelle, the private add-on that covers other health care costs. I’ll note that even with monthly mutuelle premiums I’ll still spend far, far less than I was in British Columbia for health care, plus things like glasses, dental work, and prescriptions are all pretty much totally covered. And major stuff like hip surgery happens after days or weeks, not months or years.)