ITALY Part III: Naples/Napoli

My Naples apartment was shared with the owner, Carlos (who was lovely, but whose part of the apartment was DISTINCTLY nicer than what he made us live in); a Dutsch 30-something called Kim who spoke no Italian, but English very well; a French/Italian 50-something called Ivano who was in Italy to make pizza; and a late 20s Polish guy. The least said about him the better.

A typical, narrow, dark Neapolitan street

Sunday evening Kim and I did a small excursion into Naples town centre to find food and get a brief idea of the place. What we encountered was: over-flowing bins, rubbish all over the floor, and Italians spilling out of restaurants and pubs (shouting? it's difficult to tell with Italian). My first reaction was dislike after the neat, organised and tourist-centred universe I had left behind in Florence.

Monday morning (and every morning afterwards), Kim and I went for a coffee/cappuccino/orange juice and a pastry in a bar across the road. Again, about as nourishing as the tea and biscuits I had been having in Florence.

I then had to do a written test to decide which class I would be put in, and an incredibly brief 'speaking test' in the halfway break. My classmates were to be 27 year old Glaswegian Clare, 18 year old Swede Lovisa, and 66 year old Australian Margaret, and we all rubbed along quite well together. We studied the imperfect (again) and the imperative, as well as just having general chats to make our speaking abilities more well-rounded.

Naples felt much more 'alive' than Florence.
As if 'real' Italians lived there, not just tourists. 

There were a few noticeable differences with the Italian school in Florence, too. Firstly, in Florence lessons started bang on 9am. In Naples, the teachers found their way into the classroom at about 9.10am. They were also reluctant to be punctual to class after the midway coffee break. Secondly, in Florence the lessons were more structured, and the teacher made a great effort to get us to talk as much as possible by constantly asking us questions. In Naples, and with one teacher in particular, our general chats extended to hearing much more about the teacher's own life.

Nonetheless, this was a distinctly positive opportunity to learn about Italian culture:
* The food; one teacher said Italians only ever go to a pizzeria to eat pizza, due to the need for a large, wood-burning oven. Food was also clearly an important time to convene as a family, sometimes with the addition of friends
* Transport; apparently taxi drivers here will even try and rip off Italians, and I am told there is a knack to validating your transport ticket just as you see the conductor getting on the bus...
* The economic crisis; to save money, the government have dramatically reduced the bus services available from Naples to nearby towns. I saw many people begging for money, or walking the streets in the rain selling umbrellas for 3€.
* The crime in Naples compared to elsewhere. My Italian family in Florence had warned me to take care in Naples, which did unnerve me a bit before I arrived. Yes, I did see teenagers riding a scooter in a packed alleyway, with the aim of snatching handbags off the shoulders of unsuspecting women. But no, it wasn't apparent that the Mafia and other criminals were strolling around in broad daylight (although the impact of their power over the rubbish collection of the city was evident everywhere). I assure you, I was not mugged, stolen from or attacked while in Naples.

In the afternoons, I did a mixture of my own thing, and activities organised by the school.
Monday: after wandering the narrow, dark and shop-infested streets of Naples, narrowly avoiding being hit by impatient Vespa drivers, we visited the Museo Archaeological di Napoli which had Roman statues, mosaics rescued from Pompeii, and paintings also taken from the aforementioned and Herculaneum.

The Paticceria at Caffe Gambrinus.
A Neapolitan speciality is Rum Baba, but I personally
recommend Sfogliatella. 

Tuesday: I had a lazy afternoon before going for a walk with Kim to see Piazza dei Plebiscite with a church at one end and Palazzo Reale at the other. We visited the Palazzo (and in doing so fortunately avoided the downpour which shortly followed) which was full of paintings (framed and ceiling frescos) and sumptuous decoration, all kindly explained by the audio guide. Afterwards, we also saw Teatre San Carlo and Caffe Gambrinus which has a lovely interior, before heading back to the flat.
FUN FACT: Naples was the capital of southern Italy / the two Sicilies before the unification of Italy.

Wednesday: the school organised a 'walk along the seafront', which actually transpired to be a guided tour through Naples, finishing at the sea front and being left to our own devices. We then went up Castel dell'Ovo (legend has it that an egg is buried in a chest beneath the castle, and if it breaks Naples will fall) and we had nice views of Vesuvius and Naples town, lazily stretching itself along the coast.

A view of Naples from Vomero.
Note: Mt Vesuvius rising up on the right.

Thursday: the school organised another guided tour up to Vomero, a small settlement perched on a hill over-looking Naples (to save walking, we took the Funicular which is a sort of cable car). Bruno, our guide, was incredibly enthusiastic as he showed us the church there that had been part of the San Martino monastery there. It was one of the most beautiful churches I had seen, and there was a room where if you whisper into one corner, someone in the other corner can hear you perfectly! It was very, very cool.

I then rushed back down the hill to see Verdi's opera 'Rigoletto' at Teatro San Carlo. It was MAGNIFICENT and only 30€!! And I sat on the 3rd floor next to a lovely Italian lady who explained the storyline to me in the first interval, so after that it made much more sense... Afterwards, we were also able to earwig Bruce Springsteen's concert which was going on opposite in Piazza dei Plebiscite! It was wet, so we didn't stick around for long, but on the way back I bought myself a Sfogliatella which has crispy pastry outside and a soft, cinnamon flavoured middle. Amazeballs.

The Royal Box at Teatro San Carlo.
The exterior of the theatre is unassuming,
but the interior was magnificent. 

Friday: Kim and I went for pizza after school with three other girls. Sadly the Sorbillo pizzeria had an enormous queue so we went to Il Presidente. Again, signage: our receipt just said 40€. Didn't say what we had or hadn't eaten OR explain that there was a seating charge included. Had that been advertised? Don't be ridiculous.

Kim and I then went on an underground tour of Naples. We had an excellent (English-speaking) tour guide, and it was really, really interesting. We were told about how the Greeks had mined the stone under the city in order to build it, then the Romans had used the space as water tanks, then there was a cholera outbreak in 1884 which seeped through the permeable rock and the aquaducts had to be closed. In WWII, the spaces were used as an air-raid shelter. Naples was the first liberated Italian city, and it was liberated by an anti-fascist faction made up of ordinary Italians. We also were shown where the original Ancient Greek agora was, and the original columns from the temple there are part of the current church opposite! Then we went 'backstage' of the Roman theatre which was found underneath someone's

Part of the underground tour;
you can see how small the passages are!

house. Sadly you can't see the actual theatre because it was filled in and houses built upon it (and the Italian government has no money 1. to pay the occupants of the houses to leave and 2. to finance the excavation).

Early Saturday morning I was catching the AliBus all the way to the airport and getting on the plane that marked the end of my Italian adventure. I had been from the tourist-centred city of Florence, to the 'Real' city of Naples with a bad reputation (separated by a brief stop-over in Rome). In Florence, I was able to appreciate the architecture and the art surrounding me, and enjoy the relatively tranquil company of an Italian family. In Naples, I saw a city full of noise, food, and everyday people going about their lives.

Two weeks in this country gave me an insight into its variety and liveliness, and re-ignited my enjoyment of learning another language which has enabled me to talk to, and hear the opinions of, another nation. I am sure I'll be back there again.

A Short Suzie Guide to Naples:
Things to do and see:
The underground passageways, San Martino monastery in Vomero, the Museo Archaeological di Napoli, Palazzo Reale, an opera at Teatro San Carlo!
Food:
I visited two pizzerias: Brandis is the birthplace of the Margherita Pizza, but I would recommend the Il Presidente for the same great authentic taste with a cheaper price tag.
La Campagnola is a trattoria (less formal than a ristorante) and I had the most amazing antipasto there: fresh mozzarella and parma ham, stuffed and fried courgette flowers, bruschetta, and pickled fish and octopus. Lush.
Safety:
Naples is apparently the Crime Capital of Italy, but if you are sensible and smart no-one should fear visiting this city. However, even guide books advise tourists to stringently avoid the Quartiere Spagnoli and Piazza Garibaldi near the train station after dark. In my experience, the main thing to watch out for was hidden charges in restaurants, and the odd car not following the Highway Code.

ITALY Part II: Rome/Roma

At 8.30am, we had our tea/coffee and biscuits for breakfast like usual. At 9.30am, I left to walk through the streets of Florence one last time on my way to the train station. The highlight of this walk was a church recommended to me by Elisabetta, called 'Orsanmichele'. The outside is a huge hulking building, but once you find the entrance, you find yourself in a small square room, with beautiful old delicate paintings covering the walls. The main attraction is a sort of ornate stone altar with a roof, and there's a painting of the Virgin and Baby Jesus, with shining gold halos, set into the back of it. Beautiful. Definitely worth seeing.

The Roman Forum

My Alta Velocità (High Speed) train that took me to Rome was brilliant, whizzing me past the hills bordering the  green valleys. After arriving, I had to take a metro and then had a short walk to my hotel. Again, the Italians need to sort their signs out. I walked down the street. No sign of a B&B. I asked at the florist, and they said I needed number 19. I found number 19's large wooden doors firmly locked and in my way. I looked at the doorbells for the various apartments, and couldn't see any for the B&B where I was apparently spending the night. A nice lady let me into the building, but she let herself down dramatically by telling me to go four floors (with all my luggage) up the wrong staircase. Another four floors up the other staircase and here, I did actually find the B&B.

I knocked on the door and popped my head around the corner. A smiling young Italian man appeared.

The Pantheon
Rebuilt circa 126 AD by Emperor Hadrian

'Andrea, right?'.... 'Er, no, Suzie', I replied. 'Andrea' persisted the Italian. 'No - Suzie', I maintained. To be brief, il centro italiano had booked my hotel room through an agency who had not then relayed the room booking to the B&B. Smooooth. In the end, my tour guide arrived at 4pm as previously organised and took me to a new hotel. In the two hour wait I tried to visit the Sistine Chapel, but failed because a German man was visiting the Pope and the place was absolute chaos. Nonetheless, my guided tour was excellent, and I was showed many interesting things tucked away in Rome's backstreets away from the tourist masses. These sights included beautiful churches (stunning on the inside, but very plain on the outside), tranquil piazzas / courtyards with carved fountains, and viewing points over ancient Roman remains.

The three hour tour finished at 7pm. I had seen a lot, but not understood a great deal of what she was saying. We parted ways and I found a trattoria (family-run restaurant) where I had pork with prunes and potatoes. In the hotel, I watched Italian 'Deal or No Deal' which has an equally annoying presenter as Noel, and then had the worst night's sleep of my life on a bed seemingly made of asphalt.

The Colosseum

Sunday dawned sunny and hot. I then spent the rest of the day getting lost in Rome in the vain effort of 1. trying to re-find some of the places I had seen yesterday and 2. trying to find anything not on a main road. In the end I gave up, hoisted my heavy baggage onto my shoulder yet again, and set off for the Colosseum. Which was awesome, but the novelty of old crumbly buildings was beginning to wear off...

I caught my afternoon train to Naples, again enjoying the view. In Naples I needed to get a bus to my apartment if I wanted to avoid dodgy taxi drivers and hefty price tags. I found the bus station without problem, bought a ticket, VALIDATED IT (I wasn't risking it twice), and was then squeezed on to the bus like a sardine. To my astonishment, at the next stop the waiting passengers just shoved their way on to the bus!! Stupid me, thinking there was no room! What a ridiculous notion... Typical foreigner. Thankfully no-one touched me up, stole my stuff (although that would have been quite a feat given how none of us could actually move) or injured me. Especially since I subsequently learnt that the train station and bus stop area is perhaps the most dangerous part of Naples. Excellent. Nonetheless, I managed to prise myself out of the soup of sweaty Italians at the right stop, took a deep breath, and then set off in search of my apartment for the next five days. I had a feeling that Naples wasn't going to be quite so refined as Florence...

Suzie's Number One Top Tip for Rome: have a private tour guide. You will see an awful lot (without having to worry about map reading) and learn a lot (without having to wade through the guide books). But maybe I'm just lazy...

Suzie's Number One Favourite Thing in Rome: the water fountains. This sounds ridiculous, but I just loved how there are water fountains scattered around the city. They are constantly running with fresh, cold water, and have holes drilled into the tap, so that if you stopper up the end with your hand, water spurts out of the hole at a level perfect for drinking from!

One such piazza: Piazza Navona
(which has a fountain of the 'four rivers' in its middle)

Why are there so many...: piazzas? Rome (and other Italian cities) are full of piazzas, which are essentially huge public squares. My guide told me that it's because they were the main place for the conduct of public life. Since in the summer it gets too hot inside, trade and other business would have taken place in the piazzas. Nowadays, piazzas are hotspots for small-scale traders and cafés.

An Archaeological Observance: One of the things my tour guide pointed out, is how Rome is a perfect example of stuff just being built on top of everything else. For example, there are big pits full of Roman remains, and around them are modern streets with shops and traffic. There is one small excavated area, where you can see Roman remains, and on top of them there is a medieval chapel (complete with original wall painting of Christ!), and on top of that is a gigantic, looming, blindingly white museum!

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ITALY Part I: Florence/Firenze

So before I went off to France in late September, I was already looking forward to returning to Britain after having finished the cumbersome and annoyingly obligatory Year Abroad. Eight months later, I would be returning home for the grand total of 10 days before jetting off to the previously unexplored land of Italy.

Venture 100m off the beaten track, and I guarantee that
you will find the gelateries with the best value and flavour

The roots of this decision lie in my disappointing AS Politics exam results, which led me to ponder if I should changed from "French and Politics" to "French and Something Else". Enjoyment of A Level Classics (based on two very enthusiastic teachers and basically reading stories for two years) combined with an enjoyment of FOOD led to the possibility of the "Something Else" being Italian. Nonetheless, history's course was maintained with a dramatic re-mark and an exam re-take, and I found myself at Exeter doing the degree I had originally intended upon. Three years later, however, a curiosity to explore this country, its language and its cuisine was still lurking in me.

So, on Sunday 12th May I flew out to Pisa from Gatwick, with my stomach full of nerves and my rucksack full of bits of paper with maps, addresses, emergency contact numbers and prepared conversations for scenarios in Italian. It was like starting out on my YA again, but this time I couldn't speak the language... Yes, I had bought myself a grammar book in France and been quite enthusiastic at the start, but then the Final Month in France kicked in and completely pushed Italian into a corner of my mind's priority department. Not least because my Oral Exam in September '13 will be in French, not Italian!

The Italians just LOVE their scooters

After soaring over the snow-topped Alps and the blue Mediterranean sea, I was in an arrivals lobby buying a train ticket from a woman who clearly wished everyone would just leave her in peace. Upon asking where the train station was, a hand was flung in my general direction from which I understood it was behind me. I left her in peace. I did find the train station (after asking for directions again) and was presented with a departures board asserting that the train to Firenze San Marco was leaving from Platform 12. In front of me were platforms 1 and 2. There were no others. Above Platform 1 was another sign, saying the train there was heading to my destination. I got on. The driver announced he was going to Pisa Centrale. Firenze SM wasn't mentioned. In the end, thankfully, the driver did admit he was also going to Firenze SM. Italy was clearly going to be a bit different to France.

I arrived in Florence to the pouring rain and a long taxi queue. When I reached the front of the queue and was asked my destination, my throat closed up, my mind blanked and I resorted to thrusting the written address in the driver's face. I had never known such shyness on my own part, and it made me feel pathetic!!

The view from the family's terrace

(Not to mention mean for getting frustrated at identical behaviour on the part of my students...) I was dropped me off at the apartment which would be my home for the following five days, and Bernardo (the son of the family, aged 21) showed me around. The apartment had excellent views of Florence - although I only discovered this later due to the storm still raging - and my bedroom and ensuite were perfectly alright. The family was completed by parents Elisabetta and Dario, and the family are 100% my FAVOURITE ITALIANS EVER. They were constantly kind, welcoming and helpful.

I thank my American Biffle for suggesting the accommodation of a half-board stay with a family for Florence. On the first night two of the family's friends joined us for dinner, and we muddled through conversation with a mixture of French and English. We ate gnocchi cooked in broccoli; then turkey cooked with mushrooms, and courgettes, and cress stuff and cured ham; pudding was a fruit tart and then home-made ice-cream! We also had some nice wine (although not as good as in France!). It was an excellent start to my Italian experience. I was regretting not having done more language preparation while in France, but felt very excited for starting lessons the following morning.

The classic Florentine image: Ponte Vecchio
Note: shops bursting over the edege, and the Medici
family's private walkway running along the top

We had a breakfast of tea and biscuits at 8.30 on Monday morning (and I would be having this highly nutritious breakfast for the rest of the week) and I arrived at Il Centro Italiano di Firenze at 9am. I did a short test to ascertain my level, then just got bunged in a classroom with the teacher, Elenore, and the only other student, a 50 year old American called Isabel. My level in Italian soared over the five days I was at the school; it was incredible how much vocabulary I learnt just by listening to the other two. We had four hours of lessons per day, 9am-1pm with a break in the middle (to give the teacher her coffee fix), and we focused on learning the imperfect tense (thankfully I had mastered the present and past on my own) and situations to teach us vocabulary.

Me on Ponte Vecchio

Throughout the week in the afternoons, I explored on my own:
Monday: (after returning from school and setting the apartment's burglar alarm off, nearly getting the police sent round) was spent wandering around Florence in the blazing sunshine, drinking in the sights, some of which I had seen in the film 'Room with a View' the night before I left. I wandered along Fiume Arno, looking up at Fort Belvedere (one of the Medici family homes), and went along to Ponte Vecchio (the only Florentine bridge not blown up in WWII by the retreating Nazi forces) and up to Palazzo Vecchio and Piazza dell Signoria. I bought an over-priced melon gelato for 4€. The afternoon was spent at the church of Santa Croce with an audio guide, admiring the frescos, the marble patterned floor, the decorative tombs (some filled, some not) and much more.

In the evening, Bernardo gave me a moonlit tour of the town, including the ancient centre of Florence (Piazza della Republique) where the two main Roman roads cross, and culminating in Il Duomo (the cathedral), bathed in floodlights. It was magnificent. Not so great were all the men selling junk and pestering everyone.

Firenze's cathedral (with dome) and tower,
infront of which is the Baptistry 

Tuesday: I went inside the cathedral, empty and vast, but with a beautiful fresco within the dome illustrating hell, heaven, and those excluded from both. I also walked up to the church of Santa Maria Novella, but was all church-ed out so didn't bother going inside. I tried to find Museo di Firenze, and failed. I had been told it was near the town library. I found the library, but could not for the life of me find the museum. Upon reporting this to the family that evening, I was told that you have to go inside the library to get to the museum. Is this signed? No. Don't be silly; I was in Italy. In all honesty, one of my greatest criticisms of Italy was its signage (ranging from advertising seating charges in restaurants, to its supposed tourist attractions and monuments). I saw the outside of Dante's house and peeked inside his personal church opposite, and I bought another gelato (half white choc, half milk choc) from 'Perché non?' which translates as 'Why not?'



Wednesday: this was guided tour day, as arranged by the school. We chatted in Italian all the way around, and I learnt quite a bit but also just chatted in general. She led us to the BEST gelaterie in Florence, where a small tub was 1.50€ and the quality was beyond anything imaginable.

View of Firenze from Piazza Michelangelo

Thursday: The day started in a most positive fashion. I successfully caught the right bus up to Piazza Michelangelo which is a viewing point over the town. I then got on another bus to go and see Fort Belvedere. Now, I suggest future Italy travellers listen to the following with care: you MUST validate bus tickets. To cut a long story short, I had my ticket checked + I hadn't validated it = 50€ fine on the spot. Rest of day was ruined as I didn't have the cash so I had to wait on the bus beyond my stop, then the bus conductor marched me to a cash machine (like a criminal!). I was so angry with myself I went straight home. At dinner that night, the family had put two little chocolates in my place at the table to try and make my feel better, hence part of the reason why they were my favourite Italians! The following day I explained what had happened at school, and Isabel reassured me by saying that if that was the worse thing that was going to happen to me in Italy, it was OK. And she was right. It was my contribution to the Italian economy.

San Miniato (the interior is amazing)

Friday: I visited Palazzo Pitti (another former Medici family residence) and its gardens, and also Giardino di
Boboli which had nice views and kept me occupied. I then re-visited the amazing gelaterie and the cathedral. After returning to the apartment, Dario asked me whether I had been able to see Fort Belvedere or San Miniato after my humiliating fine experience. I said no, and he said that they would take me there. So Dario, Elisabetta and I went out in the car to see the old city walls (now mainly destroyed to make way for the roads), Piazza Michelangelo, then the walls of Fort Belvedere, and San Miniato which is one of my favourite churches in Florence. It's interior is so old and beautiful, and there was a service going on with some monks when we visited which made it feel even more special. It also has a stunning view over the rest of the town: red rooftops with the Duomo rising up in the middle, and the green hills looming over everything else.

Almost before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye to my favourite Italians. I had had an incredible five days in Florence, made all the more authentic, worthwhile and enjoyable by the family I stayed with. By the time Saturday arrived, my Italian had already progressed considerably, and I felt like I was going to Naples with a good basis for the challenges which would undoubtedly arise there.

A Short Suzie Guide to my Highlights of Florence:
Churches: Santa Croce, the Cathedral, San Miniato, Orsanmichele
Gelateries: Perché Non? and the most amazing gelaterie I visited... and whose location I do not know.
Museums: well, I didn't visit any, but I can tell you that you can see a replica of Michelangelo's David for

Hello there, David

free by visiting Piazza della Signoria, without queueing for hour upon hour at Gallerie dell'Academia. I also advise a portable seat for Galleria dei Uffizi, judging on the queues I saw.
Food: I didn't eat out anywhere (since I was staying with a family), but I can tell you what we ate at dinner:
* Pasta in bolognaise sauce to start, then chicken cooked with courgette, accompanied by bread (again, I think the French do a better job), and strawberries for pudding.
* Asparagus risotto and salad, then pudding was ricotta with nutella / coffee / jam (as you please)
* Taglietelli with spicy sausage and tomato sauce, then a variety of plates including baked artichokes, thick, crepe-like things, beetroot, and sardines in a tangy marinade. Ricotta and nutella for pudding.
* Bean and pasta soup, then slithers of cured pork carved off a huge slab with tomatoes and raw artichoke. Finished off with biscotti dipped in very strong alcohol.

Final three English-filled days in France

Chaumont Château

On Monday, I had a super-busy morning putting postcards in pigeon holes for my favourite three college classes, buying stamps and sending letters to friends back home, and buying a traditional French lunch for my parents who arrived at noon. We immediately tucked into fresh French baguette, pork pate, duck mousse pate, ham, and three types of cheese. The weather was a delight to behold, so we then made our way to Chaumont Château which was complete with lovely gardens and stables.

In the evening, we dined in the restaurant of the hotel where my parents were staying. I had a tiny salmon quiche, followed by steak, followed by a crumble. Delish. The waiter needed to cheer up, however. What greatly amused me was his announcement, upon the serving of our main course, of 'Good following'. This perfectly highlights the problem of literal translation. In French, you would say 'Bon appetit' at the start of the meal, and 'Bonne continuation' (which he translated as 'Good following') for each following course. Someone clearly didn't pay attention when their English teacher gave that lesson...

Interior courtyard of Chaumont Château, with a view
across the valley behind us.

On Tuesday, the weather was foul and disgusting. I checked out officially at the MAJO (since the following day was a bank holiday), and received a weighty envelope full of my leftover housing benefit and my deposit. Too bad, France, this money is going into Italy's economy in a few weeks, not yours! After depositing the loot at the bank (and feeling relieved it was no longer my responsibility), we went to Langeais Château.

Langeais Château is a medieval château, and as such is the last example of a château built in a fortified-castle style before the change of fashion and the new preference for châteaux in the style of a stately home. We ate our boulangerie lunch in the car, before braving the rain to make our way in to the château. It has thick stone walls, and you have to go up some steps and across a small drawbridge to access the 'house' part. You can walk all along the battlements of the château and look precariously down at the drop beneath you, if you fancy it! We had hoped to go and see Ussé Château later on as well, but the weather was simply too disgusting.

Langeais Chateau in the rain.

Mum and Dad dropped me at home where I had two hours to sort myself and my remaining luggage out before we went out to a crêperie for dinner. It was the same crêperie as I had visited with my American biffle, and it didn't disappoint. I ordered exactly the same crêpes as last time I had visited. Why try and improve on perfection? It was a lovely way to end my last-ever-full-day-in-France-for-my-Year-Abroad, and shortly afterwards I was snoring away in my bed, with strict instructions to be ready to leave the house with all my stuff at 7.45am the following morning.

Wednesday morning dawned, bright and spring-like. In my infinite wisdom, I had accidentally set my alarm clock for 8.30am, not 7.30am (clearly too much cider at the crêperie), but thankfully God woke me up in a state of shock and panic at 7.30am. I managed to get dressed and lug everything downstairs in time for the arrival of my parents and the car that would be taking me home. We left at 8am on the dot after I had put my house keys through the letter box of the MAJO's office. I knew I wouldn't be returning, but somehow it didn't feel weird. It felt right.

Bye bye, Romorantin house.

Four hours of driving later and we were having a boulangerie lunch before seeing the Bayeux tapestry (which actually isn't a tapestry, it's an embroidery) and its museum. The 'tapestry' has narrowly avoided destruction several times in history, and is quite lucky to still be in existence!

A short drive later and we were queuing for the ferry. We had a cabin again, and had dinner in the ferry's restaurant which was very good! Mum and I shared a prawn cocktail starter, then I had sole in a delicious sauce for mains, then Mum and I shared a chocolate and passion fruit trio of desserts. They were incredible!
Off the other end at Portsmouth, and an hour and a quarter later I was walking in the front door of my HOME!!! and being greeted by my favourite boy, Alfie, my brother and my Grannie. I couldn't have wished for a better welcome.

Au Revoir, not Goodbye.

So I am writing this as I wait for my parents to arrive in the car which will take me back to England in two days time, marking the end of my Year Abroad.

It's been a funny old week, making me want to go home at some times, and making me want to stay longer at others. Overall though, I believe that my future is holding even bigger and better things than what would ultimately remain for me in Romorantin, and I am full of optimism and eagerness to get stuck into the next phase of my life.

What made me want to go home:
1. Other people going home.

Blois girls + me! Well done Erin for closing your eyes
(to be fair, it was very sunny and bright, but still)

After getting back from Paris Saturday evening and a day full of sorting out and organising on Sunday, I set off to Blois on Monday. It was to be my last ever Blois trip to see American biffle Erin and Brits Harriet and Amy. Monday was relaxed, including 'helping' Harriet pack (in reality, I just sat on her bed reading Winnie the Pooh), discovering an awesome series called 'the Bachelorette', having Subway for lunch and Dominoes for supper (while watching Bring It On), then having random late night conversations with a Brazilian and two Colombian guys! On Tuesday, it was Harriet's 21st and we celebrated with a fancy lunch out (beef carpraccio was my order, if anyone was interested) before it was time for me take the bus back to Romorantin for the final time.
In seeing Harriet ready to go home and packing up, I was incredible jealous, and I wanted to be doing the same and going back to my family, my friends and my dog!

2. On se tourne les pouces (twiddling my thumbs).
Saturday just gone was so boring. It was that in between stage of having done all I could do for the moment and not being able to pack or organise any more because I still had need of all the junk around me. And there is very little in this town. I have done almost everything to do here, save the museum. It's at least an excuse to return (briefly!).  Eight months here was lovely, but I am ready to move on to bigger and better things in life. Let's just say lots of Disney films were watched.

What will I miss:
1. Dinner with people. 
On Thursday, I had dinner with a teacher from the college at her house. The food wasn't anything special, but I loved discussing home in comparison to France, for better or for worse, and generally being complimented on my French!

2. My friends at the MAJO.

My MAJO friends (missing Sylvain)

On Sunday evening, I hosted a 'dinner party' for my favourite MAJO friends. There was me, Kyann (my
housemate), Carine, Juliette, Morgan, Baptiste, Julien and Sylvain. I love them all, and will miss them I am sure. They have shown me such hospitality, kindness, patience and love. I just wish that if I am in the situation of hosting a foreigner that I can show such admirable qualities. We ate raclette and chatted and took silly photos. Carine gave me a tea-strainer and a porceline thing for putting used tea bags on. Juliette gave me a wooden mask from Tahiti (where her mother's from). My memories of all our shared experiences will stay with me forever.

3. My Church. 
I love the people, and they've been incredibly kind to me, but I will also miss the physical reminder that God's family is worldwide and crosses all frontiers, geographical or otherwise.

4. My housemate Kyann and our random conversations, which are sometimes helpful for linguistic improvement, and sometimes just plain ridiculous...

Listen in for a brief summary...
I would not have come to France if the Year Abroad wasn't obligatory with my degree. I wouldn't be doing my current degree if it wasn't for my fantastic French teacher at GCSE and then A Level. It's funny how past experiences shape our futures, and just like my old French teacher has done, I am sure that the last seven months will go on to shape what is next lined up for me in life post-degree. I am not going to boast about everything that this year has taught me. I am just going to say that the Year Abroad was one of the best experiences of my life to date.

P.S.
Here are the Year Abroad goals that I set myself in my second blog post, plus my amendments according to my success in each goal:
1. Join a library and read all the French classics (I did indeed join the library, although perhaps not ALL the classics were read...)
2. Read an entire newspaper or magazine a week, note down all new vocabulary, learn (Er.... no. Bit ambitious, looking back)
3. Join a sports society (Yes - I joined a badminton club)
4. Get a second job (I did English tutoring)
5. Go to Nantes and eat moules et frites (Sadly not achieved, although I did eat moules in Bordeaux)
6. Visit as many of the Loire's chateaux as possible (I saw Chaumont, Cheverny, Chenonceau, Chambord, Blois, Amboise, Versailles and Langeais. Not too shabby.)
7. Sit in on a church service (and not make a fool of myself) and hopefully find some nice church family who will take me in and feed me in return for some rent and me babysitting occasionally. (I found my lovely, welcoming church, and I was fed by four church families.)
So, I think we can say that this gives even more reason to consider my Year Abroad a success!

Tourism in Paris and Versailles

Wednesday late afternoon I arrived at Gare de Lyon and whizzed my way along the Metro to meet up with David at Gare du Nord. After getting a horrible shock when I received a text from him saying 'where are you?' over an hour ago, and thinking I had made an awful mistake arranging train arrival times, it turned out my phone was just playing a nasty trick on me. We met up at Gare du Nord, and then set off on foot to find our hotel for the next three days. The hotel was basic, and as we went for an evening stroll we realised that it was next to an avenue teeming with prostitutes, but the hotel at least served its purpose.

The victor in the hot chocolate competition. 

Thursday was a day more than fit for sight-seeing. The sun was shining and Paris wasn't too crammed with tourists. We started at the Arc de Triomph, and then worked our way down to Place de la Concorde, walked part way along the Jardin des Tuilleries before stopping off for chocolat chaud at Angelina's. I had been recommended Angelina's and her hot chocolate by my originally-Parisian housemate. He had also warned me not to try and take on an entire hot chocolate on my own. Needless to say, really, but I did take on the challenge. And I failed! It was basically melted chocolate, and to add insult to injury there was a separate little pot of whipped cream.

The gardens by Le Louvre

We continued down to the Louvre, the gardens of which were beautifully planted and bursting with colour. Nearby, we saw the gardens of the Palais Royal (smaller, but just as pretty) and the Comedie Francaise theatre (where Molière reportedly fainted during a performance of Le Malade Imaginaire). Hopped on the metro to the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris and had a nose inside. Then we took the metro to the Mosque, but I didn't want to pay 3€ entry so we moved on to the Natural History Museum (which I unfortunatley didn't find particularly informative). Lunch was found at a boulangerie, namely a tuna baguette made with lovely fresh bread. One final stop off at the Tour Eiffel in the sunshine before heading back to hotel to rest our weary feet after our wanderings. Dinner was had on Rue Moufftard, in the same restaurant I had gone to with Montana before I went home for the February holidays.

Chateau de Versailles in all its golden glory

On Friday, we hit Versailles. I was surprised at the number of people who weren't at work, as it was absolutely PACKED. Well, the main palace was heaving, but less so when we visited the smaller residences, used (among others) by Marie Antoinette, who was married to King Louis XVI. These buildings were further out into the grounds, and the number of people to be found there was much smaller; perhaps they didn't want to walk that far. So much the better for me! It was interesting comparing the main Chateau, the Grand Trianon and the Petit Trianon. The first oozed wealth like a squeezed orange; gold was flaunting itself inside and outside the buildings, marble dominated the architecture and there wasn't a single ceiling which wasn't painted with fabulous and delicate designs. The second was much more modest, but still evidently portraying luxury, and seemingly much more comfortable then the first. The third was rather empty and plain. There was some beautiful furniture, but many more white painted walls and empty spaces in the rooms. We were too tired to walk around the gardens and it was beginning to rain, so we headed back to Paris on the RER then the Metro.

Grand Trianon - note unpainted ceiling

After another nap (since being a tourist is a very tiring occupation) we headed out on the metro again to visit a restaurant recommended by my housemate: Le Zimmer. We only had a main course each due to the prices, but my lemon and thyme chicken was excellent. It was simply served with green beans and a tomato dip; it is typically French to serve a good piece of meat with one accompaniment. David's fish cakes were served with squid ink risotto, and the man next to me's duck leg was served with mash potato.

Our final day, Saturday, had arrived. After dumping our bags at Gare du Nord (and being ripped off to the tune of 10€ for a locker), breakfast was found in the form of a crepe (au chocolat, for me) before being admitted (for free) into the Hotel des Invalides. This is a complex with many functions, one of which being the burial site for Napoleon, but the section that we visited was a WWI and II museum with particular emphasis on France's involvement and occupation. The exhibits revived everything that I had learnt in Upper Sixth, and I learnt a little bit more about the 1870 Franco-Prussian war. After finding another excellent boulangerie (this time I had a coronation chicken baguette) and eating it by the Tour Eiffel, we headed for the Basilique Sacré-Coeur. The sun was blazing down, making the white stone of the Basilique even whiter against the blue sky. The inside was as beautiful as ever, but this time I noticed the delicate mosaics dotted around which I hadn't seen when I had last visited it, two summers ago. Sadly, the killer steps up to the Basilique were still there.

Basilique Sacré-Coeur

Then it was time to go back to Gare du Nord so that Dave could catch his EuroStar back to England, and I got on the metro down to Austerlitz to take the first of my three trains back to Romorantin. It is now midday on Sunday, and I have spoken barely any French for the last week. Before the church service this afternoon we are having nibbles to give people a chance to say goodbye to me, so no doubt that will fling me back into the delights of French conversation. For now, however, I shall continue to put off tidying up my room by translating my FINAL Year Abroad essay before sending it off to a teacher to be checked. Nothing is going to ruin my epic (and fast-approaching) summer!

Sunshine in Provence

The splendours of Provence

So early on SATURDAY morning (06h57 am, to be precise), I took a train to Paris and then the TGV to Aix-en-Provence whereupon I would be meeting two friends from back home. However, I would need to take a bus from the TGV station to the town centre. This proved to be more difficult than first thought... The TGV arrived five minutes later than planned, meaning I had five minutes to find the coach pick-up point. The coach was due to leave at 12h25. After rushing around the train station in a slightly more controlled manner than a headless chicken (although not by much), I found a coach pick-up point at 12h25 exactly. No bus. I waited for about a minute and then - hallelujah - a bus arrived. The question "Does this bus go to the town centre?" was answered with "No - you're on the wrong side of the road - I'm going in the opposite direction." My heart sank. I wandered back up to the main part of the station, fairly sure I had missed the bus I needed, but I thought I would at least try and find the correct pick-up point out of principle. I was in the middle of bimbling along, when I spied... A BUS!! There were so many people queueing to get on it that it hadn't been able to leave yet (it eventually left at 12h35 - thank heavens for tardiness. I would make a note of me saying that, by the way. It doesn't happen often). 

After stowing my rucksack in the underneath storage section, I stepped up onto the bus. After my horrific ordeal, I just wanted to check I wasn't embarking on another fruitless bus; "Is this bus going to the town centre?" I asked politely (even though I was almost certain it was indeed, since it was written on the front of the bus. But you never know... it could have been a nasty joke). This query received the angry response of "of course it is, it's written everywhere that this bus is going to the town centre!!" I made my apologies and hurried to the back of the bus. 

Not quite as extreme as this, thankfully...

It appeared crammed, until I realised that most people had put baggage on the seats next to them in an effort to dissuade others from settling there. Fed up of passing perfectly good seats, I pointedly asked a woman if she could move her stuff. To be fair, she did acquiesce. I mean, it's not like she could see the queue of people mounting the bus and looking for spare seats or anything... It is the stereotype, even within France, that people down south are less friendly than in the north. On the bus, the girl opposite me started talking to me; she had also just finished as a Language Assistant and was going to be travelling the southern French coast. We swapped Year Abroad experiences for the duration of the bus ride to the centre of Aix-en-Provence, and it was really interesting hearing what another Assistant had got up to, what she wished she had done differently and so on... I can't and don't want to change my Y.A. experience, but it's funny to imagine how things might have been, had I been placed elsewhere.

Sadly not where we ate, but at least the image helps
paint a picture so you can imagine the situation!

The bus arrived at the bus stop (la gare routière) and everyone got off. And not too long after, David and Angela arrived to welcome me with open arms!! And their dog was there too!! We had a lovely wander around Aix - it is beautiful and the sun was shining away - before settling down at a table outside a restaurant. I ordered bruschetta, which I had never tried before, and it was delicious. People were starting to arrive for an imminent wedding at the Hotel de Ville opposite the restaurant, the sun was beating down, and, to top it off, an excellent trio of musicians (a guitarist, a saxophonist and a guy playing a sousaphone!) started busking. 

After popping into Aix's cathedral (very different interiors from some others I have seen) and buying some bread and a millefeuille (a pudding consisting of layers of custard and pastry) for the evening, we started the drive back to their house. The scenery of Provence is beautiful; plains of vineyards nestled amongst majestic hills. On the train journey down from Paris, I had tried to work out how you knew you were in the south of France, just from the scenery. And I have decided that it is principally the trees and vegetation, followed by the style of the houses. The trees are adapted to the hot environment (there are lots of pines) and the houses are painted white/cream and have red tiles roofs. Before too long we had arrived, and I spent the rest of the day settling in, admiring the stunning view (the house is part of a village perché, i.e. it's on a hill) and playing boules! Before too long, it was time for supper and bed.

St Raphael cathedral

SUNDAY started with a journey to St Raphaël where we went to church. I had my first view of the Mediterranean sea ever, and thoroughly enjoyed the church service (which was in English and full of ex-pats). It was slightly strange to return to an order of service after worshipping at the Eglise Protestante Evangélique in Romorantin (which has less structured services), but it felt like home. And I knew all the hymns! Afterwards, we had a cool drink in a café on the beach, our ears filled with the sound of the sea. We returned home via some garden centres and a boulangerie where we bought quiches and bread and a strawberry tart, and then had a lovely lunch. The afternoon was spent reading the book that the collège teachers had given me in the sunshine (narrowly avoiding getting burnt). After another game of boules, we had dinner (Sunday roast! My first since Christmas!) and then watched 'Endeavour' on ITV1 before retiring to bed.

On MONDAY, after a relaxed breakfast on the balcony overlooking the valley lined by hills, we set off to find a practice Formula 1 race track encircled by woods for a walk. We returned home via a garden centre where there were people wandering around in jeans and sweatshirts, and who were not even red in the face! I was in shorts and a T-shirt and feeling the heat! Despite it being at least 23 degrees for the duration of my visit, the locals did not seem convinced that it was particularly hot. I sacrificed fitting in for the sake of not melting. 

See top: wooded hills surrounding the monastery
See bottom: a cloister, maybe the parloir. 

In the afternoon, we went to the Cistercian Abbey of Thoronet (Abbaye du Thoronet). The monks were only allowed to talk in the 'parloir' (i.e. single corridor of the cloisters / covered passageways), and during services. The acoustics in the 'church' part, where they held their worship, were amazing. You didn't need to talk very loud for your voice to reverberate around the entire chamber. Incredible architecture really, for something built between the years 1160 and 1230.  You could also see the dormitory where the monks slept. There was a separate (but simple) room for the Abbott. Inside it was incredibly cool compared to the baking heat just outside the thick stone walls. The Abbey was set in beautiful countryside (i.e. hills covered in woods) near to a river. There were also large olive groves, which the monks would have tended to in order to make olive oil and support their way of life. They had a room set aside for making the olive oil with huge pressing machines. After walking around the Abbey, we had an ice-cream (my first - but by no means last - Magnum Double Caramel of the summer!) and the owner told us what a good opinion she had of the English. Just before making our way home, we popped our heads round the door of the main chamber of a Convent next to the Abbey; they were in the middle of a service, and all the nuns were wearing all-covering white habits. I have never seen a nun in England, but I have seen a few nuns on trains during my French travels. However, to see them in their 'home' setting was really strange; to reflect upon the fact that they were committing their entire lives to God. The Covent grounds contain their own vineyards, which is how they make money. We then drove back home for afternoon tea (proper English tea!), then boules, then supper.

St Tropez harbour

TUESDAY was a travelling day.  After a lovely relaxing breakfast (as usual), overlooking the hills of Provence, we got in the car and took a small, windy road, which led us through the hills and past small villages perchés until we successfully arrived at St Tropez. I hadn't realised that St Tropez itself is actually a village with a small harbour (packed with rather large yachts). Nonetheless, it was very attractive, with the painted houses fronting the harbour, the docks of which were lined with artists and artwork, and tables and chairs for the cafés. The backstreets were well-maintained and full of nicely presented (if often very expensive) shops. 

At Bromes. The tables in the bottom right are where
we had lunch, overlooking a wooded valley.

After refreshing ourselves with a cool drink, we got back in the car to continue on a road which would hug the coastline all the way along to Bromes, where we had lunch: a 'savoury millefeuille' of filo pastry, tomato, mozzarella and aubergine 'caviar', followed by a banana and chocolate crêpe. Delish. The drive was beautiful; rugged coastline overlooking a very blue sea, sparkling in the glorious sunshine, dotted with many villages perchés, the houses of which were all painted orange or yellow.  We had supper at a local restaurant which was also absolutely wonderful; my main coures was pork cooked in honey. Divine.

WEDNESDAY was only a half-day, starting with a casual breakfast, then a game of boules (which I won!) shortly followed by a real French lunch of fresh bread from the boulangerie, cheeses, pâté and salad, finished off by a trio of patisseries. Far too soon it was time to drive back to Aix (where my Provence adventure had begun) to catch a train to Paris.

Provençal Products:
1. Olives. There were so, so many olive groves as we were driving around. And one way to ensure a good olive harvest, I have learnt, is to cut a hole in the middle of the tree so that it is not too thick.
2. Rosé. This type of wine in Provence is nothing like the fuchsia-like stuff you find in Sainsbury's, no no no. It is a very pale and delicate pinky-orange colour, and much more transparent than the rosé I had tasted before my visit to Provence. 
3. Lavender is also a local speciality / produce. 

To round off this little 'I love Provence and had an incredible few days' post, I shall simply say that I have eaten and drunk some delicious food and wine, I have a slight suntan, and the countryside of this region is beautiful. What could be better? I recommend it, but not too many of you at the same time; I don't want it to be too crowded when I next return. 

Final Week.

Saturday 6th:
Lunch was spent with my collège responsable and her family. Her husband is from Tunisia, and I really enjoyed chatting with them both about Tunisia and the cultural differences between there and France. The meal started with crisps, then salad, then fish and mashed potato, then strawberries and gingerbread with chantilly cream. After the meal, she played her accordion for me. It was SUPER cool!! She said that her husband and sons didn't like hearing it, which I thought was a real shame. Soon it was time to leave to go to her son's handball match, and his team won (for a change - usually on a Monday morning I enquire, and usually they've lost...), plus I understood the rules better this time around so that made it much more entertaining!

Sunday 7th:
I played badminton in the morning (i.e. was run ragged playing with three much more experienced players than myself), and at midday was collected by one of my pupils, her mum and her little brother, to have lunch together. I really enjoyed talking to Morgane outside of a school context, and talking to her mum about her time as an au pair in Surbiton, and just chatting in general about a whole range of things. We had nibbles to start with (doritos with a home-made dip - which was really good but I couldn't work out what's in it - and melted gruyere wafers and popcorn) before going to the table and having white asparagus. This is a regional speciality and the mother gave me quite a reasonable helping. I didn't like it, but managed to eat all but one spear. They didn't seem to mind too much. This was followed by pizza - much more successful i.e. delish. Followed by a cheese course (baguette and goats' cheese - another regional speciality). Followed by a heavenly chocolate torte. It was so rich and creamy and chocolately that - Warning: sit down - I refused a second helping. At one point during the pudding, I mentioned that I would like to have a go at making macaroons, one day. Before I know it, a plate of chocolate macaroons (which they just happened to have) has been set down before me. I could only manage one. I know, I'm ashamed at myself, too.
I had to ask to go home so that I could have a nap...

I awoke, tousle-haired and with a crinkly face from my pillow. I heard that my housemate has returned from a few days in Paris. I considered going and saying hello to him. I decided in the affirmative. And it was an excellent decision. Upon going and saying hello to him, he mentioned that he was going to go and get a takeaway pizza. I said I was still full from lunch, but that I would keep him company. In short, I ended up with two hours of conversation practise as we walked to the pizza place, ordered our pizzas, waited, walked home, and ate them. The pizzas were buy one, get one free (un acheté, un offert). Kyann refused to let me pay for half of the total cost. This is because 1. boys pay for girls in France and 2. paying for someone's meal is considered a real pleasure, here. I'm not exaggerating. We talked about all manner of things, and he remarked that I don't talk with an English accent, rather with a melody. #french charm

Monday 8th:
Three hours of final lessons at the collège starting at 9am. With each group, I did the same thing: a 'culture and grammar' quiz. They all left in the same way that they leave at the end of every lesson with me, except that I knew that this time there wouldn't be another lesson. I have lukewarm feelings about the first class, I was glad to be shot of the third class, but was sad to see the second class leave. And clearly they were the only class fussed about the fact that I was leaving; they gave me a T-shirt on which they had written all their names and little messages in marker pen. It was a great idea (Manuella's idea) and I was really touched by the gesture.
Lunch at the collège was uneventful except for a member of staff who started crying opposite me #awks
Then I went home for a few hours before starting the half hour walk to the lycée for the third-to-last time. I stopped off at the collège to put boxes of chocolate in the English teachers' pigeon holes, hoping to be all ninja and not get spotted. I put the last box in Christine's pigeon hole, turned around, and there she was. Drat. I told her she might as well go ahead and see what was inside (now that she'd ruined my surprise...), and when she was reading the note I'd attached she seemed genuinely touched by the fact I'd even bothered. Made me feel all warm and snuggly inside. At the lycée, I watched 'She's the Man' for an hour with the Terminale girls (so glad I've finally found some French students who can understand and appreciate the jokes...) and ate chocolate chip madeleines.

Tuesday 9th:
At 9.30am I had a meeting with my good friend the deputy head to get some help for my final year abroad essay (a commercial overview of the lycée), before watching over a class's exam for someone. At least a quarter of the students slept at some point during the hour allotted for the exam. At midday, the English department of the lycée met up at La Scala (an Italian restaurant chain) for lunch to celebrate / solemnly commemorate (take your pick) my imminent departure. I had pasta (it could have been better) followed by a fruit crumble and ice cream washed down by a rather nice rosé. And the teachers presented me with the most amazing present I could have hoped to receive. I was expecting nothing (not least because I've barely seen most of them since I run my own lessons), but out of sheer loveliness they had bought me a RACLETTE MACHINE. This is possibly my favourite French meal, and I had mentioned to Virginie when we had raclette at her house that I was thinking of buying a raclette machine, but that I was worried about not being able to find real raclette cheese in England. PLUS, I have since checked online and Waitrose sell it!! My raclette cheese source is secured!! Mission accomplished, Sunray. Knew I could count on Waitrose. One of the teachers, Andrew, had also bought me a French dictionary (not English-French, just French - which is what I had been lacking) which contains 'Argot', which is French slang. I'll be hanging with the best of my French homies before I know it. And, of course, there was a lovely card from all of them. But I'm not telling you what they wrote as 1. it's none of your business and 2. you wouldn't believe me if I told you how much they have simply adored my presence in their midst. So there.

And I played badminton in the evening. Also, I got my Erasmus forms signed off - win!

Wednesday 10th:
Today, I braved an unknown experience, c'est-a-dire I had a haircut. Yes, I have had a hair cut before but this time it was in French and there was a possibility of miscommunication resulting in dramatic hairloss / baldness. Don't worry, nothing dramatic happened; they didn't end up shaving half of it off and I being obliged to make the best of a bad situation and mould the remains into a beret shape. All went smoothly and I now have shoulder length, layered hair. Lovely. My hair-cutting motivations were 1. in anticipation of the fact that it will be hot in Provence (whether the weather likes it or not) and 2. despite my choice of a fancy hairdressers, it was still half of the price of my fancy hairdressers back in England.

I then did an hour and a half of French to English translation as a favour to someone at the MAJO, before cleaning the kitchen floor (only because I was asked to - don't worry, France hasn't changed my laziness when it comes to cleaning) and then setting off for my English lesson with the three year olds. This was our last lesson before I shall be spending a week with the family in St Tropez in August!

Zumba in the evening was sadly cancelled, but I spent the 45 minutes chatting to someone, so what I didn't burn in calories, I made up for with speaking practice.

Thursday 11th:
I had a lesson at 11am where we did noughts and crosses but with British culture and grammar questions which was actually quite successful and I regret not having found the game sooner. Tant pis. This was immediately followed by lunch at the collège where the choice was steak or steak (vegetarians, beware mass French catering) and then a couple of hours of reading before I had my final ever collège lesson (I repeated the games). My 4pm class was cancelled because the kids had been given an hour off.

After supper at the MAJO canteen, I played badminton.

Friday 12th:
Today was an early start. I was up at 7am to be at the lycée for 8am where I ran a lesson based on an article about the recent census results in relation to multiculturalism in Britain. The kids were still half asleep and hardly enthusiastic, but I'm sure some of them learnt something, and certain students even got quite into the debate/role play I had created (i.e one of you is a white unemployed person, one of you is a Polish toilet cleaner etc).
9am was spent proof-reading essays with three BTS students. Not the way I would have planned to spend my final ever hour 'teaching', but no doubt it was useful for them.
At the sounding of the bell, I made for the secretary's office. I handed in my keys, I thanked the Proviseur (headteacher) for everything and walked out of the lycée for what might well be the last ever time.
I rushed back to the house to get my laundry out of the machine and because I'd left my phone behind. I had a voicemail from Leyli (a girl from church) asking if I had a moment to come for tea and cake before I left and I happily accepted.
First of all, however, it was time for lunch at the collège canteen with the English teachers to say goodbye. The food wasn't anything special, but the company was excellent. I had a lovely time chatting with Catherine, Caroline, Valerie, Angelique, Francoise and Bruno (only chap!), comparing Britain and France but discussing other stuff to. They gave me a card, a book (about teaching written by a teacher) and some Nina Ricci perfume. They all told me that they had loved working with me and that if I was ever in the Centre Region then I was forbidden to leave without popping in for dinner or at least to say hello (which would probably lead to a four course supper, knowing France...). The reference my responsable and the deputy headteacher wrote for me was lovely, and they repeated several times that they meant every word of it and how much they had valued me as a colleague. The teachers here have a real community spirit; when the canteen workers were striking, the teachers joined them in solidarity. It has felt and does feel really special to be a part of that team of people.
Next stop was Leyli's for some tea and cake. After about an hour and a half, I got a text from Carine telling me she had finished at the lycée and was ready to drive me to Blois (where I would be spending the night) on her way home for the weekend.
Blois welcomed me in the form of my American biffle Erin, and a lush French dinner: asparagus soup, followed by 'farmer's pork' in a rich red wine sauce, followed by fruit crumble. And all for just under €20. Boom. We spent the evening watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame in French, joined by Harriet and Amy. None of us could quite believe that our year abroad experience was over. I no longer have a reason to be in France, specifically. I have lost my role contributing to the society I am living in.

Saturday morning I left very early on a train for Provence, but that is a subject for another blog post, so you'll have to wait. I will finish this post by saying I have had an incredible Year Abroad. I have thoroughly enjoyed teaching, despite all my complaints, and believe I have contributed to the education of those children. I have a grown as a person, become more critical of my environment and what I consider acceptable and worthy, and showed myself what I am made of. What more could one wish for in a Year Abroad?