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?

Another week gone and only one week left

It's Friday night. I had planned the evening eating at the canteen and being sociable with my friends, but it's closed so I'm sitting at my desk post-feast of an orange and some pain au lait, writing my blog. Today has been busy although I'm not sure quite how; I find myself at 9.45pm, able to recall what I've done but not entirely sure how it managed to fill a day. In the first draft of this blog, I was going to list everything that I've done, but upon reflection I realised that the majority don't want to hear about watching TV and washing up. So here I discuss some hopefully more interesting segments of my life presented within a broader context of the end of my Year Abroad. Cue shocking, tremulous music.

* Year Abroad work. Two of the three required essays have been written, and the French verified by some of my lovely college teachers. Today, I re-wrote my CV and covering letter, which will be translated and checked again by a teacher once I've had the parents' approval of the contents in English. I'm going present shopping in a chocolaterie tomorrow to thank the aforementioned teachers for everything they've done for me since I arrived in Romo six and a half months ago. Not to mention helping me improve my French, this includes listening to my complaints about 1. students who don't care about learning English, 2. my short-comings as a teacher, 3. my lack of linguistic improvement. As well as all this, they have helped in keeping me occupied with various dinner invitations and other outings. So I think they deserve a few chocolates for all that!

* Saying goodbyes. I have had my final lessons with three classes now, and next week will be my last ever week as an English Assistant, at least in Romorantin, although I have no intention of repeating this experience. I think if I was to repeat it, I would try and recreate this last six months and I think it's a dangerous thing to do, as you can never make the past come alive in the same way as when it's the present. On Tuesday, I'm going to eat with the lycee teachers, and I've let my college responsable know my availability for a moment of goodbyes at the college.

* Bureaucracy. It wouldn't be France if there wasn't paperwork. It seems sort of right that I start and finish my experience with interrogating the bank about how to do online transfers, trying to get the remains of my CAF off the MAJO, and filling in Erasmus forms with my lycee responsable. I can remember filling in the original forms like it was yesterday.

* Staying positive. Even if I am finishing my teaching in exactly one week, I still have THREE weeks in France. One week teaching, one week in Provence and then Paris, and one week in Romorantin packing up my life, saying goodbye to my MAJO friends, and abusing the library facilities which I should have been making better use of for the last six months but never got around to, before my parents come to take me home. Tomorrow is going to involve chocolate shopping, dinner with Valerie and her family, then watching her son's handball match (again, it's the Circle of Life: watching her son's handball match is one of the very first things I did after my arrival in Romo). Sunday is equally packed with badminton in the morning, lunch with another family, then church in the evening. So don't worry, I fully intend on grabbing every opportunity presented to me during the next three weeks with both hands and finishing my Year Abroad off in style.

Not at all bored and Bordeaux

So, on Saturday 30th March, at 8.20am, I got on my first train that would take me part of the way to the delightful city of Bordeaux where my beloved Anna would be joining me for Easter bank holiday weekend frivolities.

Mildly- to rather-interesting moments from the previous week:
1. A particularly entertaining three hour badminton session on Tuesday
2. Watching Disney Films in French
3. A 20 minute run on Wednesday which nearly killed me. I repeated the same run on Friday (in the spitting rain, such dedication) and did much better, at least on the functioning-lungs front.
4. On Thursday, I "participated" in my first ever strike. That is to say, the canteen staff were striking from 13h30 until 14h30 in protest of not being granted funds to pay for another member of staff, and the teachers decided to tag along for 'moral support' and since they had nothing to do because they couldn't have lunch... It really made me laugh which I don't think impressed some teachers who were taking it all very seriously - there was a parked car playing up-beat music out of a stereo, and there was a microphone being passed around the teachers, some of whom started singing along to the song lyrics! #al fresco karaoke. Typical France.
5. Friday, I got a call from a man at badminton asking me to play for the club in a badminton match next Tuesday! I was so chuffed! Let's just hope I don't mess it up now...

Bordeaux Stock Exchange buildings

So yes, back to Bordeaux! Anna and I were joyfully re-united at the station, and we set off for a spot 'o lunch at Paul's and a good old gossip until the hotel would let us in. After taking a moment pour reposer, we set off to explore Bordeaux. The city is an up-river port (sadly I didn't get to see the sea at any point), and to access the main part of the city we ambled along the river side, appreciating the fresh air, grand buildings in sandy stone rising majestically to our left, and each other's scintillating conversation and updates about Assistantship life.

Classic French architecture, plus
a nice clock (with date etc.) and a bell

The typical postcard image of Bordeaux is (I am reliably informed) the picture of the Bourse (Stock Exchange) buildings. In front of them is a square, slightly set into the ground, which is usually filled with some water to reflect the Bourse, and some smoke; sadly it was having a day off, it seemed. Typical France. The old buildings themselves were rather nice, however, particularly when lit up as we walked back to the hotel in the evening. Other nice buildings in Bordeaux included several arches, one housing a beautiful clock (reminding me of the one in Rouen) and bell. To the side of this particular clock, there was a beautiful church which we stuck our heads in to. Regrettably, they had just finished Easter Sunday service when we were passing by, and we took the turning off of the lights as the sign that they wanted us to leave. What I managed to see though was lovely.

A basket of flowers!

For the most part, however, Bordeaux is full of shops. Street upon street of famous brands, Anglo-American and French side by side. We found several churches and/or cathedrals, I never was sure which was which, none of which were as impressive as other ones that I have seen (I'm a cathedral connoisseur, remember!), and beside two of them there were large stone spikes. I'm not sure why, and haven't yet done any research. Take it as a personal challenge to do so yourself. On the top of one was a statue of the Virgin Mary and Jesus in gold, which was rather impressive. We also found two very nice parks, one beside the Mie Caline (which can be translated as 'The Affectionate Crumb', classic French embellishment of what is essentially a bakery chain) where we wangled a baguette, a pain au chocolat or cookie, and a can of fizzy something for a tidy 4€, cheeky; the other was slightly further afield, but we stumbled across a not too shabby fountain and pillar/statue thing on our way, full of enthusiastic joggers and cyclists, not to mention inventive flower arrangements and plantations.

L'Entrecote is clearly the place to eat!
Look at the queue!

On our wanderings, we also came across a miracle: French people queuing. Sorry, I should have warned you to sit down before releasing this bomb-shell. Although, to be frank, I have found that French people have no difficulties with the concept of queuing, and I just thought I would try and use a stereotype to be funny. On a serious note, the restaurant they were queuing to go into is apparently one of the best chains in France, and the queue was of a significant size.

Thanks to Anna's brilliance (or maybe just her prior knowledge...) we ate on both Friday and Saturday night in a quality restaurant, getting a bargain three courses for only 14€ (about £11). And yes, on Saturday we were indeed asked if we had not also eaten there the night before! On Friday I started with moules marinieres (mussels), then had magret de canard en sauce poivre (duck in a peppercorn sauce), finished off with ice-cream filled profiteroles. Nom nom nom. Saturday involved soup, then steak and chips (my order of 'medium' being interpreted as 'rare' to the extent that the middle was slightly cold, but when in Rome / Bordeaux...), then profiteroles again. I also didn't kick up a fuss because I'm British. Then again, Anna and I went for a hot chocolate, and the menu gave two sizes: grand or maxi. We both ordered 'grand' and were given 'maxi'. Upon paying, I challenged that I shouldn't have to pay for maxi when I ordered grand. The man behind the till seemed to agree, before printing off a new receipt which gave exactly the same total as before. We coughed up. At least it was speaking practice... I also gave directions to a man to tell him where the nearest boulangerie was. Desperate times when the British start helping the French find their fresh-baguette sources.

A final highlight of which I shall enlighten you thus, was the Jean Moulin museum that we visited. I would also

Map of a section of France, the markings
are cases of harassment or guerilla-warfare
from resistance members.

go into great detail about the Musee des Beaux Arts, but it was almost entirely closed apart from about 30 not particularly good paintings which I could have done myself. Maybe. If I tried. Anyhoo, Anna and I had studied France during WWII (i.e. being occupied) for our French A-Level (with the most wonderful Ms Solomons who deserves recognition even though I doubt she will ever read this blog), and the museum was incredible. It brought back my knowledge of the subject, gave me insight into things I previously knew nothing about, and subjected me to a vigorous French workout since none of the information had English translations. The topic of France's occupation, collaboration and resistance is a difficult subject to broach anywhere, not least in the country itself. It is really a question for historians, but suffice to say there is evidence pointing towards collaboration, and evidence suggesting resistance (even if it was 'merely' distributing leaflets). As an outsider, I can't really, and don't feel it is appropriate to, comment on how French people feel when faced with the question of how their relatives acted in occupied France. Nonetheless, it is a question we can all ask ourselves: if I had been in an occupied country, would I have tried to fight back? Or would I have just got on with my daily life and kept my head down?

With that poignant (and ultimately impossible-to-answer) question in your minds, I shall wish you all a bonne semaine. I myself have three days of teaching (one day of which consists a single measly hour) before I hit the weekend and have to face up to the fact that I have only one week of teaching left. Frightening. Bonne nuit.