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
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