My half-term has begun, which means it's time to have some fun.
Somebody came to put internet in my room on Tuesday. So, after six long hours of teaching, I crawled up to my bedroom. A cable was running from my laptop to the big box of electrical stuff in my shower room (safe, I know). I was dubious, as I always am when it comes to technology, and turned on my laptop. No internet. After about an hour of trying every possible way of connecting to the internet, I gave up and headed to McDonald's. I was stressed, tired and annoyed. The only solution: a Big Mac.
I had to rant to someone but my French is not yet good enough to do it here, so I made a call to England. My main rant was about my classes. They were awful this week. Mr Cash got serious and the kids realised I am not as laid-back as they thought. I then ranted about internet. These rants calmed me down and turned into pleasant conversation. In the evening, I thought things had to change.
Wednesday rolled around and brought incentive with it. I decided during my classes in the morning that I could not live in the collège any longer. In the afternoon, I looked for an appartment in Narbonne and by the early evening I had emailed a landlady. For those of you have been reading this from the beginning, you will remember that my original plan was to live in Narbonne with two other guys. If not, you now know. Well, I think this is exactly the same room. I am going to meet the landlady to look at the room during the holidays and hopefully I will move in soon! Fingers crossed.
Yesterday, as positive as it were, also had its downsides. I got a cold, and it hit me suddenly and without mercy. I was sneezing during my lessons and I had run out of tissues. I used the school's toilet roll, but one sneeze and there's a hole blown right through it (Mental note: grab a giant wad of said bog roll after deploying a number 2). So, I wondered to a shop to buy me some snotrags. Alas! I could not find them. So, feeling confident with my ever-improving French tekkers, I went to the shop assistant and asked her for some tissues. Okay, not quite. Midway through my sentence, I realised I did not know the word for tissues. I spent the next two minutes apologising and miming sneezing. She showed me medicines, and I said I do not want medecine, just something to use for when I 'atchoo!'. Although, I had actually told her I did not want doctors. It was all very confusing, and I left the shop feeling very embarrassed. I went to McDonalds for the second day for some McComfort food.
Feeling even worse after my Big Mac meal and M&M McFlurry, I headed to Lidl for some wine. A nice bottle of red for under €2. Snazzy. I read the label and it suggested I drink it to accompany cheese. I have not got a fridge. Therefore, I tapped into my creative side and bought some cheese straws. My evening was spent watching The Dark Knight, drinking red wine and filling my bed with crumbs from the cheese straws.
I woke up this morning to the haunting sounds of Vivaldi. I slept for another 55 minutes. Vivaldi. I slept for another 55 minutes. Vivaldi. You get the point. Eventually, I got out of bed, made a coffee and had a pain-au-chocolat. As I was sitting in the staff room, Facebooking away, the secretary handed me a parcel. I had been expecting it; it was from my girlfriend.
It contained an Original Sin lanyard, a University of Exeter clicky pen, a puzzle book, a card, and Thor on DVD. Amazing. Needless to say, it made my week! I am a lucky boy.
So, now it is Thursday. As the term draws to a close, most teachers seem to have colds. The mood is generally positive, but everyone is tired. I will hopefully have internet (working!) either this evening or tomorrow. If I get the room in Narbonne then I hope my housemates like to get drunk, because I have run out of boxsets. My main concern, though, is getting out of Sigean and moving somewhere bigger. Bigger town means more pubs, right? Right.
Now, I must venture into the village and seek nourishment that does not begin with a Mc. Armed with the rest of my wine, some cheese straws and my new DVD, this evening is set to be chilled. But, chilled is good. For now...
Oh, if you're wondering about the title of this post... It's just something to make sure I never forget the French for 'tissues'.
DC
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Days & the End of the World
People always say that Monday is the worst day of the week. I disagree. Worse than Monday is, without a doubt, Tuesday. As Monday comes to a close and you rest your poor, overworked body, Tuesday creeps up behind you with a happy-slap and a wedgie. Then, of course, there's Wednesday; the day of "when?". Nobody knows what day it is on Wednesday. It is either Tuesday or Thursday in everyone's mind, depending on whether one is pessimistic or optimistic. Forget the 'half-empty, half-full' scenario, just ask someone what day it is on a Wednesday and you know what kind of person you're dealing with. Thursday rolls around with a sense of wellbeing and you feel comfortable and content. Thursday is a good day; it is almost the weekend. Friday is a day of mixed emotion. You can taste, smell and feel the weekend but the day ambles by like an old man walking to Wetherspoons at 11am for his first pint of the day. There is no point talking about Saturday or Sunday because they are over in a flash, and there it is again... Monday.
This weekend passed me by at a pleasant speed. I spent Saturday exploring further into the fields and along country roads surrounding Sigean, I strolled to the supermarket for some bedroom snacks and I went for dinner in McDonalds. I bought some DVDs, too, including Inception, which I had never seen before. It was good, but I had a sneezing fit just as they explained the spinning top and could not be bothered to rewind, so I got a tiny bit lost. Still, I enjoyed it.
So, this week I am doing a lesson about Hallowe'en and planning future events (in this case, a Halloween party). It is challenging, interesting and fun. Naturally, therefore, the kids sit there and try to get me to either shout or laugh. Unfortunately for me, I find it much easier to do the latter. Today was the first day that I had to take a pupil aside at the end of the class for a sincere word. Teenagers are much more reasonable when they are not trying to impress their moronic friends.
Tomorrow I will teach an extra-curricular lesson for those who want to learn more English. My lesson plan, just to get them talking and to gauge their level of English is the 'Everyone on Earth got wiped out, except these 11 people. 5 of these people can go to another planet and repopulate the human race. Who should stay to die and who should live?' scenario. I could not think of names, so I used names of friends to make things easier. Here are the people.
Chris - a 60 year old farmer. He is racist.
Hannah - 27 years old, pregnant with twins. She is a thief.
Lucy - 21 year old biology student, failed her exams.
Andrew - 25 year old doctor. He is gay.
Jack - 36 year old black chef.
Simon - Jack's 10 year old son.
Louise - 35 year old teacher, she is blind.
Christine - 30 year old nurse, killed two patients.
Caitlin - 75 year old retired nurse.
Dan - 20 year old talented writer, musician and actor.
Dean - 40 year old paralysed builder.
Disclaimer: I did not intentionally assign traits to names, it just happened. I do not think that Chris is racist, Chrissie would kill people, Andy is gay, Hannah is a thief, Lucie fails exams, Caitlin is old, Louise is blind, or Dean is paralysed. I am also aware that Jack and Simon are white. At least one name fits its description...
Feel free to see who you would save, although it is not too difficult if you can explain your reasons in fluent English. I will let you know who are saved and who are left to die. Ominous.
The weather here is still divine, and the food continues to surprise and delight. Today I had a very nice slab of meat and boiled veg, along with a fruity cake and a peach-half topped with tuna. These crazy Frenchies. I am hopefully getting internet in my room tomorrow and then I can make my travel plans for next week!
Also, I will post all the photos I have taken of Sigean and whatever else I have stumbled upon whilst here.
Until then,
DC
This weekend passed me by at a pleasant speed. I spent Saturday exploring further into the fields and along country roads surrounding Sigean, I strolled to the supermarket for some bedroom snacks and I went for dinner in McDonalds. I bought some DVDs, too, including Inception, which I had never seen before. It was good, but I had a sneezing fit just as they explained the spinning top and could not be bothered to rewind, so I got a tiny bit lost. Still, I enjoyed it.
So, this week I am doing a lesson about Hallowe'en and planning future events (in this case, a Halloween party). It is challenging, interesting and fun. Naturally, therefore, the kids sit there and try to get me to either shout or laugh. Unfortunately for me, I find it much easier to do the latter. Today was the first day that I had to take a pupil aside at the end of the class for a sincere word. Teenagers are much more reasonable when they are not trying to impress their moronic friends.
Tomorrow I will teach an extra-curricular lesson for those who want to learn more English. My lesson plan, just to get them talking and to gauge their level of English is the 'Everyone on Earth got wiped out, except these 11 people. 5 of these people can go to another planet and repopulate the human race. Who should stay to die and who should live?' scenario. I could not think of names, so I used names of friends to make things easier. Here are the people.
Chris - a 60 year old farmer. He is racist.
Hannah - 27 years old, pregnant with twins. She is a thief.
Lucy - 21 year old biology student, failed her exams.
Andrew - 25 year old doctor. He is gay.
Jack - 36 year old black chef.
Simon - Jack's 10 year old son.
Louise - 35 year old teacher, she is blind.
Christine - 30 year old nurse, killed two patients.
Caitlin - 75 year old retired nurse.
Dan - 20 year old talented writer, musician and actor.
Dean - 40 year old paralysed builder.
Disclaimer: I did not intentionally assign traits to names, it just happened. I do not think that Chris is racist, Chrissie would kill people, Andy is gay, Hannah is a thief, Lucie fails exams, Caitlin is old, Louise is blind, or Dean is paralysed. I am also aware that Jack and Simon are white. At least one name fits its description...
Feel free to see who you would save, although it is not too difficult if you can explain your reasons in fluent English. I will let you know who are saved and who are left to die. Ominous.
The weather here is still divine, and the food continues to surprise and delight. Today I had a very nice slab of meat and boiled veg, along with a fruity cake and a peach-half topped with tuna. These crazy Frenchies. I am hopefully getting internet in my room tomorrow and then I can make my travel plans for next week!
Also, I will post all the photos I have taken of Sigean and whatever else I have stumbled upon whilst here.
Until then,
DC
Friday, October 14, 2011
Coffee is the best medicine.
As time flies by, I am beginning to feel as though I have been here forever. Everyday runs into one, long week at the end of which I cannot remember what I have done.
This is my way of telling you that this post is at risk of being unorganised and incoherent.
Last weekend I cracked. I had been here for two weeks, alone in this small village. The sun's rays had weakened and there was a storm a-brewing. I say storm, it got slightly cold and breezy. I had also allowed myself to get frustrated about the lack of internet, the failures of setting up a bank account, and the stresses of teaching irritating adolescents. Basically, I spent a weekend moping without trying to pick myself up.
Friday night I decided I wanted alcohol. So, I walked to the nearest wine shop and bought a bottle of their finest bottle of white. Well, the only one that had a screw cap rather than a cork. I then crossed the road to the pizza place and ordered a standard pepperoni. I had a nice conversation with the owners, went back to my room and watched a few films.
Saturday night was very different: I didn't buy any wine. I did, however, return for a second pizza (this time mushroom) and another delightful conversation. The lady gave me a small discount for being such a charmer (she said student, but I saw the spark in her eyes) and sent me on my way. I watched a few more films.
If you think I am going to tell you about Sunday, you are wrong. Instead, I invite you to reread the above, replacing 'mushroom' with 'pepperoni', and 'small discount' with 'free crepe'.
So, that was my weekend. It's safe to say I was neither trying nor bothering to make the most of this experience. I spoke to some people from home and decided that I would go to England during the October half-term to see everyone. The next day I spoke to another friend who gave me a kick up the arse and told me to stop being such a fool. I listened, and began to speculate about different places to which I could travel in the South of France, or even Spain. My plans now rest at packing some clothes in a bag and see what happens. I wish I could say that I believe I will do it.
I am feeling a lot happier now. I managed to open a bank account and finish some important admin blah. I also met the Spanish assistant who lives in a town nearby, so hopefully I can meet up with him sometime and show him the English way of getting drunk. I also arranged to meet up with a teacher for a drink, which was nice. However, the biggest improvement of this week was that I bought a kettle so have had coffee every morning. Man, I feel alive.
Teaching has been a very tiring experience. I have a new found respect for teachers. Well, the ones that don't press their penises against your leg anyway. (I kid, I kid.) Teenagers are hard work, that can never be said too often. When asking them about the U.K. and celebrities thereof, I have had some interesting and some downright stupid responses. David Villa was an example from one bright spark. Having students insist that the Prime Minister is James Cameron also sticks out in my memory. Then, when enquiring into the students' weekends one boy explained to me how he spent the weekend having sex. Not in French... not in English... but in the subtle language of mime. It is no surprise, then, that on Tuesday, after two long days of teaching these difficult youngsters, I got to my room and fell asleep for over an hour. I do not do naps, in fact, I hate them.
I woke up at 6pm, dazed and disorientated. I did not know where I was, what time it was or what day it was. I convinced myself that I had slept through the week and that it was Saturday because the sun was out but I could not hear the haunting sounds of Vivaldi. I staggered to my feet and stumbled to the nearest shop for a snack and some caffeine.
So now it is Friday evening and I have never been more relieved. No Vivaldi and no children for two whole days. Peachy. I will probably indulge in a pizza and some wine tonight, and head to Narbonne tomorrow. I do not know what I will do or where I will go, but anywhere is better than Sigean. Apart from perhaps Auschwitz, or Fritzl's basement.
I am feeling much more optimistic now, and a little less homesick. Hopefully my room will soon be equipped with the internet so I can stream English TV and films I have not watched a million times already. Facebook and Skype will be good, too.
People often ask me about the food here. I think it is an English thing... When conversations about weather become tedious, we move onto more interesting things, such as food.
One day there was a strike, and we had ravioli and a yoghurt for lunch. Well, the teachers went crazy! This was not the big lunch they are used to! When I told them how this was the size of an English lunch they could not believe it was true.
The meals this week, other than that the ravioli disaster, have been largely normal. Today we had cauliflower cheese and a sausage. Kind of... I mean, how different are cauliflower and gherkins really?!
So now, as doors are being shut, lights switched off and blinds closed around me, I must retire to my boudoir and leave such luxuries as the internet until Monday.
DC
This is my way of telling you that this post is at risk of being unorganised and incoherent.
Last weekend I cracked. I had been here for two weeks, alone in this small village. The sun's rays had weakened and there was a storm a-brewing. I say storm, it got slightly cold and breezy. I had also allowed myself to get frustrated about the lack of internet, the failures of setting up a bank account, and the stresses of teaching irritating adolescents. Basically, I spent a weekend moping without trying to pick myself up.
Friday night I decided I wanted alcohol. So, I walked to the nearest wine shop and bought a bottle of their finest bottle of white. Well, the only one that had a screw cap rather than a cork. I then crossed the road to the pizza place and ordered a standard pepperoni. I had a nice conversation with the owners, went back to my room and watched a few films.
Saturday night was very different: I didn't buy any wine. I did, however, return for a second pizza (this time mushroom) and another delightful conversation. The lady gave me a small discount for being such a charmer (she said student, but I saw the spark in her eyes) and sent me on my way. I watched a few more films.
If you think I am going to tell you about Sunday, you are wrong. Instead, I invite you to reread the above, replacing 'mushroom' with 'pepperoni', and 'small discount' with 'free crepe'.
So, that was my weekend. It's safe to say I was neither trying nor bothering to make the most of this experience. I spoke to some people from home and decided that I would go to England during the October half-term to see everyone. The next day I spoke to another friend who gave me a kick up the arse and told me to stop being such a fool. I listened, and began to speculate about different places to which I could travel in the South of France, or even Spain. My plans now rest at packing some clothes in a bag and see what happens. I wish I could say that I believe I will do it.
I am feeling a lot happier now. I managed to open a bank account and finish some important admin blah. I also met the Spanish assistant who lives in a town nearby, so hopefully I can meet up with him sometime and show him the English way of getting drunk. I also arranged to meet up with a teacher for a drink, which was nice. However, the biggest improvement of this week was that I bought a kettle so have had coffee every morning. Man, I feel alive.
Teaching has been a very tiring experience. I have a new found respect for teachers. Well, the ones that don't press their penises against your leg anyway. (I kid, I kid.) Teenagers are hard work, that can never be said too often. When asking them about the U.K. and celebrities thereof, I have had some interesting and some downright stupid responses. David Villa was an example from one bright spark. Having students insist that the Prime Minister is James Cameron also sticks out in my memory. Then, when enquiring into the students' weekends one boy explained to me how he spent the weekend having sex. Not in French... not in English... but in the subtle language of mime. It is no surprise, then, that on Tuesday, after two long days of teaching these difficult youngsters, I got to my room and fell asleep for over an hour. I do not do naps, in fact, I hate them.
I woke up at 6pm, dazed and disorientated. I did not know where I was, what time it was or what day it was. I convinced myself that I had slept through the week and that it was Saturday because the sun was out but I could not hear the haunting sounds of Vivaldi. I staggered to my feet and stumbled to the nearest shop for a snack and some caffeine.
So now it is Friday evening and I have never been more relieved. No Vivaldi and no children for two whole days. Peachy. I will probably indulge in a pizza and some wine tonight, and head to Narbonne tomorrow. I do not know what I will do or where I will go, but anywhere is better than Sigean. Apart from perhaps Auschwitz, or Fritzl's basement.
I am feeling much more optimistic now, and a little less homesick. Hopefully my room will soon be equipped with the internet so I can stream English TV and films I have not watched a million times already. Facebook and Skype will be good, too.
People often ask me about the food here. I think it is an English thing... When conversations about weather become tedious, we move onto more interesting things, such as food.
One day there was a strike, and we had ravioli and a yoghurt for lunch. Well, the teachers went crazy! This was not the big lunch they are used to! When I told them how this was the size of an English lunch they could not believe it was true.
The meals this week, other than that the ravioli disaster, have been largely normal. Today we had cauliflower cheese and a sausage. Kind of... I mean, how different are cauliflower and gherkins really?!
So now, as doors are being shut, lights switched off and blinds closed around me, I must retire to my boudoir and leave such luxuries as the internet until Monday.
DC
Friday, October 7, 2011
Becoming Mr. Cash.
Sometimes you are thrown into a situation where you finally have to take full responsibility of yourself. I was neither ready or willing for this to happen but as I sit here and think about my time in France so far, I think I am becoming an adult.
My first Saturday in France, my fourth day of being on my own with nothing to do. I had been wanting to go to the beach all week to make the most of the amazing weather, but it meant I would have to phone for a taxi. It sounds simple, but speaking a language in which you are neither fluent or confident over the telephone is a big deal, alright. However, on Saturday I dialled the number and successfully ordered my ride out of Sigean and to Port-la-Nouvelle beach.
The beach was stunning, mainly because of the amazing heat and bright sunshine. I was all alone so went for a stroll, sunbathed for a bit, went to a café for some lemon sorbet and sunbathed some more. Breasts. They were everywhere. Topless ladies just strolling around, boobs down to their knees. Bronzing their bosoms. Tanning their tits. So, I thought, no fish & chips and saggy tattybojangles. It may be sunny, but I would choose Bournemouth any day of the week.
Saturday night I thought I would try one of Sigean's many pizza places, rather than having yet another McDinner. It was nice, once I had removed the olives and drained the grease, of course. The next evening I ventured out once more in a search for food but pizza seems to be the preferred choice of takeaway here. By preferred, I mean only.
Sunday morning and curiosity got the better of me. The ground floor of my block has several doors, none of which I have seen open. Armed with my keys and a burning passion to investigate, I unlocked the first door. Well, I had found the washing machine so I do not have to pay to use the launderette. Boom! I then tried door number two. I walked in, turned on the light and... either a thousand small babies had started screaming or an alarm was going off. I jammed the key back in the door and locked it. I ran to my room but it was still too loud to bear. I walked quickly out of the school premises. I could still hear the shrill ringing of the alarm, as could half of Sigean I imagine. I waited, not knowing what to do. Eventually, it stopped. I breathed a sight of deepest relief and returned sheepishly to my room.
It is safe to say that I will never know what lies behind the other doors.
Monday and Tuesday were my first days of teaching. Half of my classes were brilliant and keen to try to speak English and learn about Britain. The other half... Well I may as well give up on them now. I won't, but they refused to speak English and swore at me in French... until they realised I understood what they were saying. They all asked if I could speak and understand French and did not believe me when I said yes. The fact that these types of conversations took place in French did not make the slightest bit of difference.
I had plans for my classes that would eventually involve songs, movie clips, presentations etc. I walked into the classroom at 8:30am on Monday and there was a blackboard with chalk. So my challenge is now to teach rowdy, hormonal teenagers the English language with no method of keeping them engaged or interested. I can sense a long year ahead of me.
The best thing about the school is their lunch. It lasts for an hour and a half, and costs 2 Euros and 45 cents per meal. I must admit that discovering I was eating rabbit on Monday was a slight shock, but it was very enjoyable. The duck on Tuesday was also lovely, as were the lentils in gravy that came with it, and the beef curry on Thursday. Accompanied with a bread roll and French cheese, I could quite get used to big lunches. On Fridays the teachers all eat in the main staff room and crack open a bottle or two of wine. I do not work on Fridays so have not yet joined, but when I am more confident with my language skills I will.
I have once or twice considered buying a bottle of wine, but I have no fridge in which to store it and no corkscrew with which to open it. That is the worst thing about living in the collège: not having anywhere to store or cook food. But while the rent is free, I am happy to splash out on ready-made food, no matter how greasy it may be.
Wednesday was my stage d'accueil, a big welcome from Montpellier basically, and it was just plain boring. First, I had to get up at 5:30am to get a taxi to the train station. Then I had to change trains and upon arriving in Montpellier, get a taxi to the CRDP. It was expensive and gave me no time for breakfast or caffeine, so I was falling asleep all morning during their information-giving. It was pointless, too. Most of the assistants were from America or Canada, i.e. outside the EU, so needed more complicated advice and had more admin to do. They asked question after question after question. Us English folk were ready to leave by mid afternoon, and we may as well have for all the use it was. All-in-all it was a waste of money, time and effort.
Good points? Well I met someone who lives in central Montpellier. He is originally from Vermont and seems like a genuine guy so when I need to escape from Sigean I have someone to meet. Also, I met up with a teacher for a pint when I got to Port-la-Nouvelle. Although it made me realise how much I need to work on my French, it was nice to have a proper conversation with someone in my second language.
So far, my initial comment in this post seems irrelevant. It is not. See, during my two years in Exeter I rarely did anything alone. I would always wait to go into town until someone else needed to. I would try and persuade people to go on walks to campus with me when I needed to hand something in. Even a two-minute walk to the co-op when I needed to buy alcohol in first year felt like a challenge. I am not independant. In fact, I rely on others to a huge extent, sometimes to the point where I end up doing nothing if nobody else can join me.
So far in France, I have done almost everything alone. Okay, my mum and sister came with me and helped me get organised, but that's it. I have ventured into an unknown town on my own, finding my own way in foreign surroundings. I have arranged important paperwork, I went to an interview with the bank, I went alone to the beach and to an induction where I knew nobody... I have even been in charge of seven classes of 13-15 year olds.
I have finally taken responsibility for myself, and for that I am proud.
DC
My first Saturday in France, my fourth day of being on my own with nothing to do. I had been wanting to go to the beach all week to make the most of the amazing weather, but it meant I would have to phone for a taxi. It sounds simple, but speaking a language in which you are neither fluent or confident over the telephone is a big deal, alright. However, on Saturday I dialled the number and successfully ordered my ride out of Sigean and to Port-la-Nouvelle beach.
The beach was stunning, mainly because of the amazing heat and bright sunshine. I was all alone so went for a stroll, sunbathed for a bit, went to a café for some lemon sorbet and sunbathed some more. Breasts. They were everywhere. Topless ladies just strolling around, boobs down to their knees. Bronzing their bosoms. Tanning their tits. So, I thought, no fish & chips and saggy tattybojangles. It may be sunny, but I would choose Bournemouth any day of the week.
Saturday night I thought I would try one of Sigean's many pizza places, rather than having yet another McDinner. It was nice, once I had removed the olives and drained the grease, of course. The next evening I ventured out once more in a search for food but pizza seems to be the preferred choice of takeaway here. By preferred, I mean only.
Sunday morning and curiosity got the better of me. The ground floor of my block has several doors, none of which I have seen open. Armed with my keys and a burning passion to investigate, I unlocked the first door. Well, I had found the washing machine so I do not have to pay to use the launderette. Boom! I then tried door number two. I walked in, turned on the light and... either a thousand small babies had started screaming or an alarm was going off. I jammed the key back in the door and locked it. I ran to my room but it was still too loud to bear. I walked quickly out of the school premises. I could still hear the shrill ringing of the alarm, as could half of Sigean I imagine. I waited, not knowing what to do. Eventually, it stopped. I breathed a sight of deepest relief and returned sheepishly to my room.
It is safe to say that I will never know what lies behind the other doors.
Monday and Tuesday were my first days of teaching. Half of my classes were brilliant and keen to try to speak English and learn about Britain. The other half... Well I may as well give up on them now. I won't, but they refused to speak English and swore at me in French... until they realised I understood what they were saying. They all asked if I could speak and understand French and did not believe me when I said yes. The fact that these types of conversations took place in French did not make the slightest bit of difference.
I had plans for my classes that would eventually involve songs, movie clips, presentations etc. I walked into the classroom at 8:30am on Monday and there was a blackboard with chalk. So my challenge is now to teach rowdy, hormonal teenagers the English language with no method of keeping them engaged or interested. I can sense a long year ahead of me.
The best thing about the school is their lunch. It lasts for an hour and a half, and costs 2 Euros and 45 cents per meal. I must admit that discovering I was eating rabbit on Monday was a slight shock, but it was very enjoyable. The duck on Tuesday was also lovely, as were the lentils in gravy that came with it, and the beef curry on Thursday. Accompanied with a bread roll and French cheese, I could quite get used to big lunches. On Fridays the teachers all eat in the main staff room and crack open a bottle or two of wine. I do not work on Fridays so have not yet joined, but when I am more confident with my language skills I will.
I have once or twice considered buying a bottle of wine, but I have no fridge in which to store it and no corkscrew with which to open it. That is the worst thing about living in the collège: not having anywhere to store or cook food. But while the rent is free, I am happy to splash out on ready-made food, no matter how greasy it may be.
Wednesday was my stage d'accueil, a big welcome from Montpellier basically, and it was just plain boring. First, I had to get up at 5:30am to get a taxi to the train station. Then I had to change trains and upon arriving in Montpellier, get a taxi to the CRDP. It was expensive and gave me no time for breakfast or caffeine, so I was falling asleep all morning during their information-giving. It was pointless, too. Most of the assistants were from America or Canada, i.e. outside the EU, so needed more complicated advice and had more admin to do. They asked question after question after question. Us English folk were ready to leave by mid afternoon, and we may as well have for all the use it was. All-in-all it was a waste of money, time and effort.
Good points? Well I met someone who lives in central Montpellier. He is originally from Vermont and seems like a genuine guy so when I need to escape from Sigean I have someone to meet. Also, I met up with a teacher for a pint when I got to Port-la-Nouvelle. Although it made me realise how much I need to work on my French, it was nice to have a proper conversation with someone in my second language.
So far, my initial comment in this post seems irrelevant. It is not. See, during my two years in Exeter I rarely did anything alone. I would always wait to go into town until someone else needed to. I would try and persuade people to go on walks to campus with me when I needed to hand something in. Even a two-minute walk to the co-op when I needed to buy alcohol in first year felt like a challenge. I am not independant. In fact, I rely on others to a huge extent, sometimes to the point where I end up doing nothing if nobody else can join me.
So far in France, I have done almost everything alone. Okay, my mum and sister came with me and helped me get organised, but that's it. I have ventured into an unknown town on my own, finding my own way in foreign surroundings. I have arranged important paperwork, I went to an interview with the bank, I went alone to the beach and to an induction where I knew nobody... I have even been in charge of seven classes of 13-15 year olds.
I have finally taken responsibility for myself, and for that I am proud.
DC
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