Diary of a Returned Linguist

Sunday 6th January

Currently sitting on my bed surveying my very messy room. Tupperware boxes and jars of food from home (specifically mince pies and lemon curd made by my own fair hands) lie slumped in a pile; lists, letters and papers of all varieties are strewn across the floor; detritus of all shapes and sizes stares at me, and I just can't be bothered to do anything about it.

Thank you to Salvador Dali for accurately
capturing in art how I felt: like a melty clock.
In particular, the blue clock on the left-hand side. 

I think I’m suffering from a yet-to-be-officially-recognized disease. I have taken the responsibility of naming it, and so christened this maladie "Returning Rheumatism". Symptoms? Feeling like a clock which needs to be wound up again in order to spring back into the vitality once embodied by the sufferer. Who’s at risk? This is an illness particular to people who have recently returned to their Year Abroad country. A couple of days, maybe even hours, after arriving, you realise that you have at least six weeks ahead of you of semi-comprehension and daily struggles which you would not be encountering if you were in good old England.

Perish the thought of returning to school tomorrow, but even more so perish the thought of trying to book and attend a doctor’s appointment, and EVEN MORE SO, I’m not paying for it. Especially when I’d just be paying to be told that ‘Returning Rheumatism’ doesn’t exist and that I need to take some pills whose little printed description reads: ‘Man Up’. As I promised my mother before I came here that fateful September day, if it’s serious, I’ll come home. If not, I’ll battle on.

Monday 7th January:

Timetable DISASTER. Let’s just say, I ended up taking a mixed group the equivalent of Year 11s and Upper Sixth. Horrific – I needed a stiff few chunks of Toblerone when I got back to the house…

Thursday 10th January

Light has permeated the darkness! Hallelujah! Today I had a particularly enjoyable lunch at college with some teachers, and I’ll tell you for why…

Voila, une galette

The 6th January marks 'Epiphany' which is the symbolic day for the Three Wise Men arriving at baby Jesus' cribside and giving him presents of Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh. This is celebrated in France with 'Galettes de Roi' - King's cake! A galette is a pastry with some sort of sweet filling; pumpkin at Hallowe'en, but over the last 24hrs I've seen Frangipane, Apple, and Chocolate and Pear as common fillings. In the south (where I was told the tradition originated) they often have a ring of brioche, instead.

And inside each galette, there is a little porcelain figurine (called "la fêve"). Whoever finds the little figurine in their slice of galette gets a crown and is king or queen for the day. And guess who found the figurine???!!! Yes, well done. It was me. Despite being completely unaware of the tradition, I actually specifically chose my slice because I mistook the head of the figurine for a particularly juicy raisin. As ever, my stomach takes precedence over my brain.

Des fêves - but mine is cooler

Sunday 13th January:

Alors, you’ll all be thrilled (I’m sure) to know that since my self-diagnosis of R.R., I have fully settled back into my routine once more. Free time is spent learning Italian (why are there SEVEN definite articles?! Four in French is bad enough!), doing dull French grammar exercises, and at the Mediatheque reading "classic French literature" which currently comprises of 'Le Malade Imaginaire' AKA 'The Hyperchondriac' by Molière. 

Social occasions consist of:

·        * Badminton on Tuesday

·       *  A galette and cocktail MAJO social on Wednesday (I didn’t even clock the little person thing – bit of a health hazard, just going to put it out there)

·       *  Self-Defence on Thursday (interesting principles, but have definitely decided I prefer whacking people rather than directing the course of other people’s attempted whacks)

·       *  McDonalds and pool on Friday

·       *  and a wonderful Saturday 2pm til midnight in Tours with eight of my MAJO friends. Les soldes, a Mexican, a pub, and general confirmation of my progression in the French language. 

The MAJO 'crew' 

My trip to Tours was actually quite a bench-mark for me. The reason for this is that, before Saturday, the last time I had been in Tours was the day that I arrived, all alone, heavy-laden with luggage, tired and sweaty, to meet a teacher who would be taking me to Romorantin.
To put it another way, the last time I was in Tours, I had no idea what Romo was like, what the people or schools or my accommodation was like. Not to mention how limited my French was. And to look back on that arrival day, approximately three months and three weeks ago, and see how much I've progressed and achieved, was quite poignant for me, actually.

Anyhoo, to summarise my return to France: I have fully recovered from R.R., my social life is 'banging' to use the young-persons' speech, and I have a whole host of weekend adventures lined-up - no spoilers here though!