Gap Year Realisations...

So the other day I realised that I'm sort of on a Gap Year. I didn't do a Gap Year after A-levels, and am now realising just how much of a good idea that was. The idea of writing an essay longer than a particularly enthusiastic blog post puts a green tinge in my cheeks. Reading anything longer than a news article on TF1 brings a tear to my eye. The word 'dissertation'? Oh please, don't - I'm going to have a nervous reaction...

For you see, dear reader, over the last week I have been messing about rather a lot (je faisais des conneries) and living the life of someone with very few commitments or ties. This is the beauty of being a Language Assistant on your Year Abroad: a not-insubstantial monthly salary, only 12 hours of lessons per week, and a whole other country and culture on your doorstep to explore with all of your free time and money!

Here are some of my conneries:
* the FUNFAIR! 

Chi Chis: strips of donut batter, fried, then dipped
in sugar. Nom nom nom. 

Romorantin has surpassed my expectations, and une fête foraine has kindly graced our car park! Yes, I can officially announce that I have turned into my wonderful mother and now detest anything resembling the sensations of a roller coaster. The thing resembling 'Rush' at Thorpe Park generally made me fear for my life at one point (hearing a tremendous crack! when you are at the highest point of the swing is NOT funny). I now know exactly why I haven't been to a theme park in five years.
And then what did the boys I was with want to do? The dodgems, of course. After enduring what seemed like at least 10 agonising minutes of horrific pain in my knees, which slammed into the steering column every time I was hit, and a pulsing sensation in my skull, after I smashed my head on the metal pole emerging from the back of my bumper car (maybe Health & Safety does have a place in society...), the cars finally stopped. I gratefully leapt out of the death trap and headed over to the boys. Sylvan gave me another token and got back into his car - what? Again?! I kid you not....
The chi chis and nutella-smothered gaufre (waffle) were most welcome in settling my churning stomach after these two mentally and physically damaging experiences... I wasn't seeing the 'fun' in 'funfair' yet.  Nonetheless, overall, I did have a really good night, seeing the boys waste copious amounts of euros in the grabber- and coin-pushing-machines, and Sylvan doing really well at the rifle stand only to win a crap little cuddly toy! Turns out funfairs in France are just as much of a con as in the UK...

* MAJO activities
I had an absolute whale of a time at Flag Football on Wednesday, and today (Saturday) we went to Blois to the comic book festival 'BD Boum' (une BD / bande dessinée = a comic strip). We did reports of the event, first filming interviews with authors, organisers and members of the public and then editing them to try and make them appear as professional as possible. Really good, fun day out, and lots of French spoken! One small issue was the amount of background noise. I conducted an interview with one man, we finished, and then my partner who had been filming told me that, for every question I asked him, he had already answered as part of his answer to the previous question! Awks... glad I'll never see him again!
Then on Thursday there was an outing to La Pyramide (the theatrical venue in Romo, no prizes for guessing its shape) to see something called 'Guy Bedos'. When I had signed up, I had noticed that the description put next to it was 'comédie'. For some reason, I assumed that it was a play of some sort. Besides, plays are performed at La Pyramide, that much I knew. So I rocked up with the rest of the gang, noting the empty stage and telling myself it must be a minimalist production....

Gad Elmaleh - the French version of Michael McIntyre

Une petite bêtise: this phrase means literally 'a small stupid thing', but can be translated as 'a little mistake/error'. To quote a well-known member of OTC, I might have had a small whoopsy... Turns out I had enrolled myself in a comedic stand-up performance. Hence the description of 'comedy'. Turns out 'Guy Bedos' is the name of the nationally-acclaimed comedian. I probably should have googled what I was seeing...
Not so bad, I thought - I'm sure my French will have improved enough for me to be able to understand what he's saying. Note, please, dear reader, the difference between understanding French, and understanding French comedy. I won't go into details, but it was an experience which made me feel like I was back to square one with my French language acquisition. I have since discovered Gad Elmaleh who is much better and easier to understand - less politics, more taking the mick out of typical French mannerisms... (think Michael McIntyre, but French and sexier...)

* General socialising
Being a lady of leisure for all but 12 hours every week, when someone invites me for a four hour long chat, I can happily go along. This was officially termed 'training' for BDBoum, but consisted of a three hour chat (about all manner of subjects ranging from comic books to the political systems in France and Britain), followed by a guided tour of Romo, and 30 minute debrief on how to use a camcorder and iMovie.
Ludovic, who was organising our entourage's outing, is a fountain of knowledge about Romo's history. It turns out there is a 'chateau' here. No, I haven't been a mong and missed an entire socking castle in this town. What was referred to as a 'château' means a tower and a pile of crumbling wall... Nonetheless, Claude de France (mother of Francois I and namesake of the lycée where I work) lived there. It was over a ratatouille-making session with my housemate that I was informed that the term 'château' refers only to residences which have housed members of the Royal Family. It is not simply a term for a stately home (une demeure d'époque) as I had previously thought (and advertised on this blog - apologies...).
I also had a lovely time having dinner with a couple from church. I thought we were just having finger food so stuffed my face with miniature pizzas and crudités (I admit it, despite being a spelling and grammar Nazi, I did have to look that one up...) and then they mentioned that a traditional French meal consists thus:

Tea is made with tea leaves, not fruit. Sort it out. 

- apperitifs
- entrée
- plat principal (main course)
- fromages
- dessert
- digestif

Now, I love food, right. And I know that the French are very proud of their food (every French person who has given an opinion on British food so far has said they think it's disgusting!) but perhaps this is slightly over the top. Fortunately, my new friends were a bit more reserved, and stuck to nibbles, then main course then pudding. I was offered a tea or coffee afterwards, and I gratefully asked for a tea. What did I get? Fruit tea. A message to all French: do not raise my hopes if you do not have something resembling Earl Grey or English Breakfast. Get on it.

So yes. You can see that my social life is rather predominant at the moment in my Gap Year. And it is only going to become more so in the following weeks as you will see from my blog installments (no spoilers here regarding upcoming events!!).

Part of me doesn't want to be plunged back into the day-in, day-out routine of lectures and reading (to be blunt, actual proper academic work), but there's a part of me that looks back to before I came to France, and how upset I was at the thought of leaving Exeter. The sadness at the thought of no more group runs along the quay, no more Cheesy Tuesdays, no more OTC, has since been outweighed by my enjoyment of teaching, my pride at coping in another country, and the wonderful people I'm meeting and social experiences I'm having. When people try and speak to me in English here, it hurts not to reply in French. The idea of not being able to speak French every day after April doesn't bear thinking about...
I don't know how to explain it. Maybe it's because of the glow I feel inside every time someone understands me, or I manage to make someone laugh, or when someone complements me on how well I speak French or at least how much I've improved since the end of September...
Regardless, I think even two short months here have given me a real desire to explore the world more, and meet other people who live their lives in a different way. The person who wrote those first few Britain-centric blog posts is long gone.

First week back at school

It's like I've been transported back in time to my school days; there are no more lie-ins, I have to do work (the word tastes sour in my mouth) and I'm no longer prancing around here and there seeing my friends and doing whatever I like...
Nonetheless, it was nice to see the bright-eyed bundles of joy that are (at least some of) my pupils.

View from my new room. Actual room is too
 messy to publicly display. Note shutters!!

My most interesting lessons which I gave this week were on writing Lonely Hearts ads. The aim of this was to get the pupils to use all the personality words I had slaved over teaching them before the holidays.
Highlight: one truly moving annonce by a girl about how she wanted to find someone who loved her for who she was (my heart did melt a little).
Low point: most of the boys saying 'I want to find a beautiful girl'. Both because of the lack of personality description, and the maverick in me that thinks relationships should be based on personality first, and looks second.

I'm not going to bore you with the other lessons. Because they're, well, a bit boring.

My greatest achievement of the week was doing my first proper food shop, and putting my purchases on my very own shelf in the cupboard of my very own house! I hope I don't sound like too much of a loser for saying this, because what it actually betrays about my character is how inordinately lazy I truly am. I starved for 24 hours from Saturday late afternoon through almost all of Sunday on an apple and a satsuma because I wouldn't go to the shops because I was wallowing in my own lethargy. Albeit, when I did try and go the shops, they were closed because it was Sunday so I had to go into town to the only boulangerie which is open on a Sunday and I stuffed my face with carbs.

Thus, here is the saga of my accomplishment: on Monday, I walked the whole 200m to the supermarché (I know, right? How excessive) whereupon I began to wander aimlessly along the aisles, looking for brands which weren't there, and struggling to comprehend the images found on the available packages of food. A few observations were to be made from my excursion:

Pourquoi?

* what the heck is the obsession with tinned vegetables?? It is completely unnecessary - the supermarket has a fresh(ish) fruit and vegetable section, I saw it with me own eyes, gov'nor. Yes, I do like to partake in chilli con carne involving kidney beans from a tin, and yes, I do like to indulge in tinned pears once in a while to remind myself that I am in the bloom of my youth and must err onto the side of madness every so often. But seriously, the tinned vegetable aisle was taking the tinned asparagus (what I like to think of as the 'biscuit' in the world of légumes - an unnecessary addition, but 
 yummy all the same). 
* The number of brands of quality chocolate (Lindt, per se) were equal to the less sophisticated brands (Nestlé was out in force). Cadburys was not stocked. I made the best of a bad situation and stocked up on Malteasers (pronounced like Maltez here - it just makes me think about people who live in Malta...)
* Certain products have 'ticket gagnant' stickers next to their prices. If you buy these products, you get these 'winning tickets' and get money off your next shop. 

My social occasions of the week include:
* A Zumba class in which we learnt the routine to Gagnam Style, among others. Zumba music seems to be massive in (at least this part of) France at the moment - it was even playing in the canteen at lunch today. 
* Playing badminton and nearly being blinded by a shuttlecock. See an earlier post about this, but before I left my little French house with its cute blue shutters barred against the cold and wind into which I valiantly headed in an effort to m'integrer, my colocataire wished me 'Bon badminton!' They really do use the phrase for everything...

Amboise chateau, perched on top of substantial
ramparts

* Going to Amboise chateau with my French amie. Had a lovely wander round the ramparts, the stately home, and then the town itself where I bought a Nonours Guimauvre (a marshmallow shaped like a teddy covered in chocolate). 
* Seeing Twilight in French. I maintain it was to improve my linguistic abilities, but secretly admit that I really liked it! Or not so secretly, now that I'm smearing it all over the internet... 

Failure of the week? I still haven't completely unpacked the IKEA bags of stuff my parents brought me when they visited three weeks ago (although I did make a decent attempt). 
Lesson of the week? Must try harder when it comes to getting out of bed and being proactive...*

*This will be aided by my discovery of how to use the radiator in my room. Fortunately my emergency measure of sleeping in my sleeping bag in my bed under my covers will not be needing to be put into effect. Huzzah!

Vacances de Toussaint

Why hello again, faithful reader. I do hope I find you well. I thought I would take the liberty of updating you on my Toussaint adventures with this installment  if I may. If I may not, then I suggest you go and do something else for a short while because I'm doing it anyway...

On Monday 29th October, my parents and younger brother arrived to save me from the brain-mushifying effects of speaking French all day, every day. After giving them a tour of Romorantin (which took a lot less time than I thought it would, how depressing) and having filled baguettes for lunch by the river in the park, I accompanied them as their French-speaking tour guide to their hotel. Must admit, I felt rather big time asking and answering all the questions. The hotel also allowed me to take advantage of the wifi (pronounced weefee  in French, it's pretty amusing) as I may have made a slight error in as much as my new house has no internet access. Ahem. Scooting over that....

Tuesday was spent seeing two châteaux from the vast list which I had been given by the teachers and secretary in the staff room. Despite stressing the fact we only had two days free for activities, the French were not deterred and I came away with recommendations for about every château in the Centre region, as well as a chocolaterie and a number of museums. A château is our equivalent of a stately home, but literally translates as 'castle'. Some of them are more 'castle-like' than others, with ramparts and defences. Many of them are empty because their contents were destroyed during the Revolution (but not the two we saw).

Chenonceau château 

The châteaux which made the cut were Chenonceau and Cheverny. These were done based on their façades and proximity to my town. However it was not until we walked round Chenonceau, guide-leaflets in hand, that we realised quite how fascinating a home it was. Chenonceau spans the river Cher, which formed part of the demarcation line when France was occupied by the Germans in WWII. As a result, members of the Resistance who needed to flee to the Free Zone (south of the Cher river) would be smuggled through the château and out the other side to freedom! And during the Revolution, Chenonceau's chapel was spared because the women living there disguised it as a store room for wood! There were many other interesting stories about the château over the course of history, too many to write here, and I thoroughly suggest that anyone who is in the area gives it a visit. 

Cheverny château 

Cheverny was also furnished quite luxuriously, and its diameter is only one room across. This means that both the rooms and the corridor are bathed in sunlight, in contrast to a building which has rooms either side of a corridor running through the middle. The gardens were less elaborate than Chenonceau (which had two, geometrically-precise, but still quite pretty, gardens) but this one did have kennels for hunting dogs which the first one did not. We also got a free wine tasting!! I stopped after two glasses though because I wasn't intending on buying any wine and thought it would be taking the biscuit to get completely sozzled...

le Palais de Jacques Coeur

On Wednesday, we went to Bourges. We saw the cathedral which was HUGE, traditional and gothic. The two towers are different sizes. This is because originally they were the same, but one fell down 300 years after being built, and was built even bigger than the original. There are many different styles of stained glass windows (vitraux) inside because of bombing and damage to the originals.

We also went to le Palais de Jacques Coeur (EU students go free!). JC was a rich merchant who was eventually imprisoned for defrauding the king, narrowly escaping the death sentence due to being pally with Pope Nicholas V! His house resembles a fortress in parts, but is a good example of 'private urban architecture' and proved a sumptuous home (despite being empty now and having been restored).

On Thursday, we made our merry way back to the UK, stopping off for lunch at William the Conqueror's birth place, a town called Falaise, and exploring the castle where he stayed a few times. I now know a huge amount more about William (not hard when I started off thinking he was British...) and there are some incredible views from the top of the castle!

After a six hour ferry crossing and a close shave with sea-sickness, I was back in my beloved BRITAIN!!! I was most impressed with the new tunnel at Hindhead - especially the pretty lights. And yes, I know it's a bit of a cop-out going home after a month of my Year Abroad, but I really needed to see everybody in EXETER and was eager to try out a few of the recipes in my recently purchased edition of Paul Hollywood's 'How to Bake'. Classic white bread: check. Tea cakes: check. I think I'll try Apple and Cheddar bread when I'm back for Christmas.

However tomorrow I set off back to la France, for another six weeks of not entirely understanding what is being said to me, over-indulging in patisseries, and trying to keep control of a rabble of French pupils. The more immediately pressing matter however is the 12 hour train journey ahead of me..... Bon courage....