Goodbye England, bonjour la France!

Some people advise others to live by the philosophy 'live each day as if it is your last'. Those people irritate me. If we did, in fact, live each day as if it were our last then we would have nothing to look forward to. Either that or we would spend each day in bed with a constant stream of teary-eyed visitors.

I will divide this into two parts.

Leaving England

Georgie Porgie's All-You-Can-Eat Buffet. Need I say more? Probably...
A wide selection of Chinese, Indian, Thai, Mexican and Italian food all under one roof. It resulted in some of the strangest combinations of food and a slight food hangover but it was amazing. Then we went on to win a selection of fine prizes (including a glittery shoe and a gay dolphin) on 2p machines before the car journey home, belting out 80s classics. Much better than Bon Jovi's shoddy original versions.

I then went to Exeter. Armed with a coffee and a pain-au-chocolat (or pen-or-chocklit as the lady at the counter called it), I was ready for one last dose of Exeter. I had a brilliant day with friends and my girlfriend, including dining in a posh restaurant (you know the one, gourmet burgers and homemade potato chips. Big 'M' over the entrance...) and going to the driving range. I was presented with a gift made by my girlfriend with contributions from my friends - a scrapbook-esque photo album. It is amazing and I am very grateful, especially for the good luck letters! I was at risk of getting emotional as I read each one and realised for the first time what I really would be missing... Thankfully the knowledge that I had a bottle of vodka in the fridge sorted me out.

So how was Arena? Because I would love to know. I remeber having an awesome night, seeing some of Exeter's finest legends and dancing to some real bangers. It was a brilliant last night out in Exeter. The next day was difficult. I will not bore you with the details, but I said 'laters' and walked towards the train station.
I did not look back because I know I would not have then been able to continue walking forwards.

I will also not bore you with details of packing but I will say this: pay someone else to do it.
A steady stream of people came by with cards and gifts; I have never felt more popular! I felt ready to leave (despite a mini breakdown the night before) and before I knew it I was on the aeroplane. 'Here we go', I thought.

Arriving in France

Shit. Everything's in French. I believe that was my first thought, anyway. I also thought how lovely it was to be somewhere so warm and sunny. I was truly excited.

We (me, my mum, and my sister) got a taxi to what appeared to be a derelict building. Upon further inspection it turned out to be our hotel. I tried my first bit of proper French as I asked for our room key and thankfully I understood every single word! Then again, he did reply in English so it was not that impressive. We then ventured out to discover Montpellier. After walking in one huge circle, and then a smaller circle, we found ourselves back at the hotel. Brilliant. A five-minute walk in the other direction and we were there.

Montpellier is an amazing place, I fell in love with it. Shame really, seeing as I now live over an hour away by train! We encountered culture clash number one when we walked up to the bar for a drink. Apparently you sit down and then get waited on... even just for one beer! Crazy. We also discovered that the French insist on putting olives on every pizza, even if you ask for them without. Ordering from a menu that I could not read very well also proved to be fun when I was brought what I can only describe as a raw quarter-pounder. It was nice, though.

The journey to Sigean. Quelle catastrophe! Well it wasn't that bad. The train station caused me more stress than it was worth and lugging heavy suitcases around did not help. Eventually we had our tickets and were on the train to Port-la-Nouvelle. There we met an English teacher who took us to Sigean and into my school.

My room. Well aside from the fact it has a cupboard and a filing cabinet both of which do not open, a shower that does not hang up or supply more than luke-warm water, no toilet, and no internet, it's not that bad. Of course, when I first saw it I went slightly crazy, wanted to go home and couldn't stop swearing. Now, however, I have decorated. A soap dish, toothbrush holder, bath mat, bed sheet and seat cover, ALL bright green, et voila! The room is surprisingly nicer.

So, here I am. My town is more a village and there is not much to do. It is the end of grape-picking season so the scent of wine drifts through the village. The sun shines every day and I am already more tanned than I am after a British summer. There are not many places to eat. The French are big on lunch whereas I like a big dinner. I have been mainly snacking. The school have offered me food but I have not taken them up on it quite yet...
I have walked in every direction and stumled upon very little. I will hopefully soon have access to a bike, and there is a bus to Narbonne at 8am every morning. I will be sure to take advantage of this service when I am more settled in. My French is coming along. I can speak it well and people have no trouble understanding me, but I cannot understand them. I am scared to ask questions not because I cannot phrase them correctly, but because I fear that I will not understand their answer and just nod politely. It is a matter of confidence. Confidence that I will gain in time.

I will leave you with a final anecdote. One I will never forget and perhaps the best moment of my Year Abroad so far...

I was walking through the village for what felt like the tenth time in a day. I had already strolled towards the beach, stopping only because I would soon have to walk down a main road and the French drive like maniacs. I turned back and found myself once more in the centre of Sigean. I stopped off in one of five shops for some water and began to walk in a different direction. I knew there must be something along this road because a woman was also taking this route. After around fifteen minutes, I was at a bridge.

For those of you who know me, you would have understood the grevity of the last five words. I have a somewhat irrational fear of bridges. I stopped, unable to continue. I turned around and started walking back, only to turn around a minute later and return to the bridge. My mind was in turmoil. I feared the bridge but I also feared jumping out of a window due to boredom. I was brave. I plucked up all my courage. I would like to say I held my head up high and marched across it, but I would be lying. I looked at the ground and ran. Standard.

As I looked around, I saw something I will never forget. As well as the magnificent views, there was something else. Something more beautiful; more majestic. I stumbled forward not daring to believe my eyes but there it was: that big, golden 'M'.

I was saved.

DC

Time makes fools of the best of men.

Is it possible for time to speed along but also pass by at a steady pace, sometimes dragging?

Yes. I am bringing this back to Time. Time is a concept that interests me more than most things. I find it truly fascinating. When did Time begin? Is there a beginning of Time? Will there be an end of Time? Without trying to sound like a 70s kid flying high, I find this shit totally mind-blowing. Back to my other favourite subject, me, and the point I am trying and failing to make: Things are going really, really quickly now, but at the same time it feels like I should have arrived by now.

I am becoming more sentimental as each day passes and, honestly, that scares me more than anything. I spend my life on my phone, mainly Whatsapp and BBM, trying to maintain aimless (but pleasant) conversation with people simply because I know I won't be able to do that in a few days. I bump into people and they wish me good luck and every time it makes me a little bit more upset because I feel as though I'm working my way up. I am saying 'laters' to people bit by bit, and soon it will be to even more of the people that I will miss most. 

Anyway, I do not want this to be a moaning, whining, regretful, and soppy post. Instead, I will take you through an innocent trip to Basingstoke. I will say now, before he has a chance to turn the events around and blame me, that Christopher Mardell is a bad influence and an animal. 

I went to Basingstoke at lunchtime, we had a look round some shops, I bought some chinos (Boom, one thing off my list) and we went for a few pints. I warned him. I looked at him, dead serious, in the face, and told him how once I start drinking, even just a sip of the good stuff, I get The Itch. Once I get The Itch things get dangerous. I got it in Reading with Andy and we ended up at the beach. I got it in Exeter and I ended up in A&E. I got it in Basingstoke. I could see the cogs turning in the brightest mind I know (ahem) right in front of me. I could hear his thought process: "I do not want to give in. He is expecting this. I am strong. I want more drink. I will win this. I have work to do. I will do work tomorrow morning. I want to go out. Will I really get that much done tomorrow anyway? I could ask my mum. She'd say yes. I can't do it. I just can't." He reached for his phone and called his mum. 

A few hours and a bottle of vodka later, we were in this club with too many man and drinks lined up all over the place. I don't remember much, but I remember a lot more than Chris Mardell. He was on top form with his specialist dance moves and attracting the ladies. I will never understand how the two go together, but females sure do love his flailing arm movements. A pavement pizza, cheap taxi ride home, a bit of bush diving and a futon finished the night. I woke up fine and dandy ready to get on the train. Chris was a mess.

Saturday I went shopping with my big sister Jess and bought a fair bit! Got me all kitted out to be a teaching assistant and bought a big DVD wallet so I can take all my films and boxsets. Then came Saturday night and, surprise surprise, I was on the lash again.

Ooo-arrr! I was a pirate on a hangover, trying to get hammered and only achieving significantly intoxicated. Still it was an awesome night topped off with some solid chicken chow mein, chips and prawn crackers. I woke up on Sunday morning feeling fresher than a Febreezed sofa. It was a miracle. I went to see my dad on Sunday night which was all right. Highlight was him confusing omelettes with pizzas but hey, easy mistake to make, right? (No.)

I expect you can tell that I did not really get much done this weekend. Hence me waking up yesterday in a slight panic because I have so much to do and so little time. It was also my mum's birthday yesterday (21st if anyone asks) but she worked through the day. So I went to town, picked up a few bits, bought a magazine about Will and Kate's wedding (it killed me) to show the French kids, and met mum from work. Then made her a cake (I'll be honest, it tasted amazing, I was well proud of my feminine side) and had a takeaway with all the family. Lavely. 

So that brings us neatly to today. I got a haircut. I know, productive day right? I also cooked a lasagne for dinner. I have been busy... So busy that I got into my bedroom about to tackle the task of packing my massively untidy living space and ended up writing the longest blog post known to man. Sorry about that, although if you got this far then I applaud you. I tend to go on a bit, it's a bad habit. I also bite my nails which is a bad habit too.I promised myself I would have stopped and let them grow to an acceptable length before going abroad, but I failed. Told you I go on a bit.

I do not know if I will get an opportunity to write before I go to France, but I want to as I am going to Exeter on Thursday night and it will surely produce stories to share. I long for the short time during which I will be there to go slowly, but I know it will fly by. I will be leaving Exeter for another 7 months, about to embark on a new chapter of my life, just a short while after arriving. But I will make the most of each minute. 

"Time is priceless but it's free. You can't own it, you can use it. You can spend it. But you can't keep it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back."

     Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife.


DC

See you latte!

If you have nothing important to say, write it down instead.


That is the only way I can sum up blogging. Nothing I will write here has any importance or significance whatsoever, except to me, of course. But still, I write it here in the hope (or, rather, assumption) that someone will read it and be relatively interested, entertained and/or amused. 


Today I finished work. It was sad to say 'laters' to more friends, but I will not miss the job. I like working, I like having a routine to my day, and I like earning money. I dislike serving coffee to people who think they are better than you and treat you not like another human being, but a piece of mouldy Victoria Sponge on the underside of a tray. Serious cafe talk.


Today was also the day that shit got real. I now have nothing to do, nothing to think about, apart from the big move. I am finally (and definitely) getting my loan tomorrow, which means I can go mega shopping and sort my life into 40kg. Tomorrow I am also going to Basingstoke to chill with my good mate Chris Mardell, then I am spending Saturday with my big sister, going out on Saturday night and then (cue creepy voice from 'The Ring') 7 days. 


Things have gone quickly and I am sure Time will only speed up as it gets closer. That's okay, though. 


I haven't really got anything else to say, but I do have something for Potterheads, like myself:


Deathly Hallows. Hermione erases her parents' memories in order for them to be safe blah blah blah. Bypass a death, a wedding, another death and a lynx... Tottenham Court Road. They stun a Death Eater and then decide to erase his memory. None of them know how to do it and then Hermione says she has never performed the spell before but knows the theory.
Clear error by J.K. Rowling. Then again, I have read this book countless times before and have only just realised, so I will let her off.

I suppose that when you enjoy something so much, and then find a mistake with it that has always been there but gone unnoticed, you let it go. However, once you have found it, you are immediately aware when you see it again.

(It may sound like I am going to make a point, or relate the above to a current situation, but I'm not. It's just an observation I can't ignore... that people should smile more. (Yes, I went into Newton Faulkner lyrics. Good song, YouTube it.))

Dollar is what I need

When things go wrong and it’s my fault, I get stressed. When things go wrong despite me doing everything correctly, I get angry.

Getting my maintenance loan for my Year Abroad has been anything but easy. First, the university did not process something correctly with Student Finance England. Then, after I contacted the uni and they sorted it out, Student Finance did not process the information they had received. Then, I had to wait for a form to sign and return. Now, I have just tried to register so I can finally get my much-needed moolah and the university want me to pay half tuition fees. Umm… Since when?

I know who would be able to answer that question, I thought to myself, so I emailed the year abroad convener. Oh no, she is ‘out of office’ this week. Good job loads of students aren't going abroad this week then… oh wait, they are. (Not me, I know, but still it’s annoying).

Rant over.

Thirteen days to go and I am mega excited!  I had my work’s leaving meal on Saturday and I remember very little. I know the food was poor so I will be boycotting Strada for a long time, but everything else was awesome. I want to know what was going through my beer-addled brain when I asked for a bottle of wine with dinner as it resulted in a horrific hangover, but the night before was definitely worth the day after. I now have three shifts left at M&S and after that, I hope I never have to work with customers again. Or coffee.

My German friend is here at the moment. She came here to study a few years ago and has visited every year since. I hope I make good enough friends in France so I can do the same. English weather is bound to be less bearable after 7 months in southern France, so I will need to escape every now and then!

I feel like I am repeating myself a bit in my blog, but I suppose I will not have anything really interesting to say until I am in France. I am still going to write it though, it helps me keep track of what I am doing and need to do. There are loads of things that will not take long to do, but that I keep putting off. For example, I have to buy insurance, give EasyJet our passport information, pick up stuff about Britain to use as teaching materials… All little things but I just cannot be bothered. I think that is because I just want to get my loan, buy clothes, see my friends, and get on with my Year Abroad.

I also want an iPad and a Kindle, but I think I will have to wait until I get my Erasmus grant and my wages from the school first. I can almost taste the other side of my overdraft and it is tantalising. I am fed up of being ‘overdrawn’… I just want to be ‘drawn’ for once! I suppose that being stuck in your overdraft is all part of the university experience, but let me say now that it is rubbish. The only time it is good is when you are in credit and eventually go down to £0.00 BUT, really, you have another £1,400 to spend! Dodgy outlook, I know. I guess that is why I manage to max out my overdraft at the end of every term, without fail, and have to work over holidays to pay it off. Ah well, if working to pay off nights in Arena and the Lemmy is what I have to do, then so be it.

When I next write, I will be free from work. I will be less stressed, more excited, hopefully richer, and possibly drunk. (I won’t be drunk.)

 Until then.

DC

Spontaneity, sand, and 'see you later'.

I am beginning to believe that the less you plan something, the better it will be. 

On Thursday I went to Reading to chill with Andy for a few hours. It was a standard day walking aimlessly around The Oracle, pausing for fast-food every now and then, and stopping at a pub for a pint. A pint turned into three and we thought it would be unacceptable for us to be in a drinking establishment without having a VK to strawpedo. Uh-oh.

Three hours later we were in Salisbury getting prepared for a night out. Two-and-a-half pints of Cryptonite and many strawpedos later, we were at the beach with Kim and Chloe (not the Kardashians). The point I am trying to make is that me and Andy had not really made any plans except from to hang out and we ended up having a completely awesome and random night out. It does not surprise me that this happened, because me and Andy spent most of second year going out without really planning to. It is behaviour to be expected from us, and the best way to say 'see you later'. 

I may be thinking too much into it, because that's what I tend to do, but it has made me feel slightly more relieved about my Year Abroad preparation thus far. This is because I have not yet made extensive plans about anything. I have always known that everything will work out because things always do somehow, but now I am worrying less about what will happen. I think that if you plan everything, so many things can go wrong. If you just go with it, you will be more willing to do things that you did not expect to do and you will not be disappointed because things do not turn out as you planned. So from now on, I am not going to guess what everything will be like, I am not going to make lots of plans in advance, and I will grasp whatever happens while I am in France by the balls. I guess it is lucky that I will be living close to the sea, just in case I get drunk and fancy laying in the sand.

As I am lying here in my sandy bed, not feeling quite human, I am thinking about the next two weeks and how quickly they are going to pass me by. I have four shifts left at work, my work's leaving do, a 30th birthday night out and many people to see. I feel like I am going to run out of time to do everything unless I start organising myself very soon. Then again, as long as I get to see everyone before I jet off that's all that matters... I'm sure all else will get done at some point. 

I have also begun to think of a list of things I think I am going to miss.

Here's a sample:

- Speaking English

- Arena

- Living with other people

- 4OD / BBC iplayer

- Spending mornings talking about the night before

- The Vic

- Prelashing 

- Mama Stone's 2-for-1 Mexican food

- 'Never Forget' to finish off a Lemmy night

- Watching international sporting events in my own country

- Cryptonite

- Going out on a school night

- Safer Sex Ball

- The Mississippi Drifter

There are obvious things I'll miss that are not up there, like people, but I am not going to get all sentimental. The list is pretty self-explanatory and really, they are all little things. When I think about it, they are not things I am going to miss. 

Instead, they are things I will be looking forward to; they will all still be here when I get back. 

Now for the weekend. My last Saturday in Marks and Spencer and a meal to follow. Sunday will be pretty much like today, a hangover day. Although I have not got a 9am dentist appointment like I did this morning, so a much needed lie-in is on the cards. 

As I am beginning to realise I have used the word 'thing' at least twice per sentence and the urge to edit this whole post is consuming me, I am going to sign off. Besides, The Million Pound Drop is on. Sweet.

Bon week-end!

DC

“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.”

Time flies when you're having fun. Unfortunately, time also speeds along when you want nothing more than for it to slow down. The next 18 days will fly by.

I have not yet said that I 'can't wait' for my Year Abroad, because I can wait. I am looking forward to going, don't get me wrong, but I would like for my time in England to last just a little bit longer. However, I have 18 days to get everything organised, see everyone to whom I need to say 'see you later' (not 'goodbye'), and buy everything on my list. I am thinking of everything I need to get in order before I leave for France.

What I have not thought about is everything that will happen once I am there, apart from things that are not important. For example, I have not yet thought about what I will teach to the kids, although I expect the Royal Wedding will inevitably sneak in somewhere, however I have thought about what clothes I will wear to classes. It is the first time ever that I have wanted to buy chinos and shoes that are not trainers. As someone who has only ever worn the standard jeans-and-a-tee combo (or sometimes shorts when I'm feeling wild), this is a big step. 

Another thing I had not previously considered was visiting. I suppose this is because it seems like such a long time until I will be settled in and ready for people to visit me. However, a lot of people close to me have already considered visiting arrangements; when will be the nicest weather, where they will stay, what we will do... Something that has never crossed my mind is me visiting England. Of course, I will come back for Christmas, but I have never assumed that I will want to come back at any other point in time. For me, my Year Abroad is a massive opportunity to live far away from home, learn a new language properly, and experience teaching. For others, it is me buggering off to another country for seven months. I have been selfish, I suppose, to assume that people will visit me but that I will not visit them. I have been stupid to assume that people would not expect me to come back for a weekend, at least. Visiting, I could say, is a grey area. I do not know what will happen yet, and I do not know how I will feel about coming back for a few days. What I do know is that I plan to visit as many people as possible before I leave.

So back to now, 18 days before I leave for my Year Abroad. I am going to Reading on Thursday to hang out with a mate from uni and Saturday night is my work's leaving do. Yep, my social life is looking good (for once!) and I have a good balance between work and play. As for year abroad preparation... So far I have bought a folder in which to keep any important documents safe, a diary to keep my life in order and so I can remember when my classes are, and a tiny notepad and pencil which I will use as a portable vocab book. Basically, I have bought small things that are not very important but make me feel like I am getting somewhere. What I really want to buy are lots of boxsets of TV shows, new clothes, a haircut and teabags. Bring on loan day and pay day... 

I realise that as of yet I have not given you reasons for starting this blog. Quite simply, I am self-involved... Just kidding, although I do think I am highly important. Joking again... Wow, sarcasm is hard to convey in writing.

Seriously though, I wanted to keep everyone updated about what I am up to, as it would be very boring if every time I spoke to someone in England I had to recount the same stories over and over. Secondly, I enjoy writing and I have no imagination so this will hopefully satisfy that hobby. Finally, I want to set myself targets and if I tell other people said targets I will be more inclined to complete them. 

So, the next time I post here I will have bought some new clothes and a big case for all my DVDs, and I will have picked up tourist information leaflets about Salisbury to use in lessons. If I have not done any or all of these, you can all judge me and send me death threats.

To finish, I would like to suggest you read my mate's blog while you are here. 

http://wordsbutfewactions.blogspot.com/

He's new to this game, too, so when we're both world-famous bloggers you can say, "I read their blogs before the films based on them were made!"

Ah, who am I kidding? Who in their right mind would make a film about a Social Network..?

DC

The Year Who Shall Not Be Named

It has taken me a long time to get used to the idea of going on a year abroad. I suppose it’s the same with anything though. It’s like when you first smell Sambuca and wish you didn’t choose to buy it, but in spite of your initial reaction, you find yourself quite enjoying it. Poor analogy, I know, but comparing a serious situation with one involving alcohol makes me feel better.

The point is, I guess, that at some point in my life I made the decision to study for a degree that included a compulsory year abroad. Had I known then what things would be like now, would I have chosen a different course? Probably. However, I suppose, if I had chosen a different course I may have gone to a different university. Maybe, in that parallel universe, I’d be wishing I were preparing for seven months in the South of France, wanting nothing more than to go on an adventure.

As it stands, when I was seventeen I made the choice to study French at the University of Exeter, well aware that several months in France were obligatory. I remember it well, too. I was stuck, as I usually am, by a big decision. I did not know what I wanted to study at uni. I sat at the computer, completely torn between whether to study French or Drama. In the end, I went with my head and chose French. It is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, mainly because I work in a café during the holidays and if I had graduated from a BA in Drama I expect I would still be working there in twenty years (not a dig at drama students, but at my acting).

 Now, I am 23 days away from beginning my year abroad and every hour my mood changes. As I write this, I am excited with a hint of anxiety to keep me down to Earth. The reason I am finally looking forward to what I have been previously referring to as The Year Who Shall Not Be Named is that, during this week, I have finally sorted out the main 3 things that were causing me stress:

-Student Finance

-Transport

-Accommodation

Student Finance needed evidence of my going abroad. The university should have dealt with this, but didn’t. When they finally did, Student Finance made an error and didn’t process it. When I was told about all this, I can’t say I was surprised. However, after speaking to a girl on the phone this evening and decoding her thick Scottish accent, she sorted it for me. Lubbly Jubbly.

Transport was more complicated than I thought it would be, because the town that my collège is in is frickin’ tiny. I have been unable to make a decision (surprise, surprise’!) about which town or city to live in. I could, I thought, live in Sigean, bored and sober, or I could live it up in Montpellier and prepare for a bitch of a commute. My brilliant brain did not consider the many larger towns surrounding Sigean in which I could live and have a grand old time with a small commute to work. So, feeling completely stuck and in a bit of a ditch, the British Council sent an email with students who had been teaching in France the year just gone. To my delight, nobody had been to Sigean or taught in the same collège as I would be. So, I emailed someone who lived near Sigean, in Narbonne. It took three words to discount living in Sigean: ‘like a village’. No thanks. He then recommended I live in Narbonne. Taking that as somebody making a decision for me, I went straight to Google Maps (via Facebook, Twitter, all three of my email accounts, and YouTube for some background music) and looked at Narbonne’s rooftops and proximity to the beach. Around six hours later, I had found a room, contacted the landlady and agreed to pay a month’s rent in advance to secure the room. Sweet.  

No. Whilst writing this, I received first contact from my collège telling me not to worry about accommodation because they can put me up. I don’t know if it is a boarding school, if they have rooms for cases such as foreign teaching assistants, or if I’ll be sleeping in a classroom. Either way, after seeking advice from my mum, stepdad, sister, and girlfriend, I’m now going to live in this town ‘like a village’. I’ll just have to hope that it is livelier than the villages that surround Salisbury, and that there are a few pubs.

So here I am. My year abroad preparation has been anything but smooth, but I never expected it to be. Right now, as things are becoming more organised, I’m learning to make important decisions, and my year abroad is closing in on me, I am excited. I think back to my first term at uni when I met some of the best friends I’ve ever had, as well as my girlfriend and, even then, I began to wonder about the Year Who Shall Not Be Named. Whenever I did, I thought, ‘Meh, two years to go.’

My Year Abroad has almost begun. I can smell the garlic, feel the Berets and taste the Brie.

I am looking forward to the opportunity that so many would love to have, and that I have been resentful of during my two years in Exeter. I know that once I’m there I will have the time of my life, because (without sounding too much like Billie Piper) I want to.

I am also frightened. I already miss friends, both from Exeter and Salisbury. I already miss my family. The thought of speaking French every day, in every situation, almost makes me regret the time I spent attempting the one-bottle challenge, funnelling with a kettle and head butting kerbs. Maybe I should have spent more time studying the language I soon have to speak every day for seven months…

… Je ne regrette rien.

DC