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!
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| Chi Chis: strips of donut batter, fried, then dipped in sugar. Nom nom nom. |
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....
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| Gad Elmaleh - the French version of Michael McIntyre |
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:
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| Tea is made with tea leaves, not fruit. Sort it out. |
- 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.
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