soggy cauliflower, abba and white stilettos

My last post left me somewhat alone and lost. Now, I think, I am almost found.

Early Monday morning I found myself suddenly with two fellow assistants – yay I’m not the only person mad enough to do this!!

Due to lack of access to a kitchen we have been eating, for the most part, in the school canteen. This is worth discussing. First I must stress that the canteen is CLEAN and ORGANISED, to quite an impressive standard. For only 2.50 euros we get an entrée, a main, either a piece of cheese or a yogurt and a dessert. Great? ...well, yes, if you consider a plate of soggy spinach and overcooked cauliflower to be a main meal. Roll on the 15^th when our contract here ends and we get this modern thing called a kitchen...heard of one? They’re considered to be quite an efficient way of catering for oneself.

After a couple of days of this culinary cauchemare the other assistants and I decided to treat ourselves to a meal in one (of four) of the local restaurants. Here I pretty much devoured a bowl of Mobiflette, a local dish consisting of potatoes and ham in a rich creamy cheese sauce, delicious. The night was almost perfect, good food, good conversation and...Abba ? Yes yes throughout the whole meal we were forced to listen to ABBA’s greatest hits...on repeat. On hearing dancing queen for the second time we realised it was probably time to leave...

And this, surely should be the end of that night’s events? Oh no. In the freezing night air we in turn tried, and failed, to open our door. Our keys jammed and refused to let us in. Winner. This little spectacle resulted in us having to wake our neighbour, a French teacher, who we had yet to introduce ourselves to...and what an introduction it was...us half freezing to death apologising profusely in broken French, her in her silky red night gown trying desperately to protect her modesty.

One of Les Rousses very pretty views 

Today was less eventful, after a nice drive through the mountains to the ski resort Les Rousses we sat and devoured yet another meal in hope of avoiding more measly legumes. Our waitress amused me in her hooped earrings and white stilettos, a nice taste of England, right on the Swiss border. On the other hand the scenery here really is breathtaking; the trees are all just beginning to turn shyly into their red and auburn coats, ready to take on the wrath of a Jurassian winter!!

in the beginning...

After a nightmarish taxi ride to the station it was easy to find my platform and validate my ticket...less so to walk to the final (18^th) carriage with all my baggage. After a small disagreement with the luggage rack I found myself in my seat in plenty of time, sitting opposite a cat.

The change was somewhat more eventful...knowing I only had 10 minutes to change I almost cried when I realised the train had stopped before the station whilst another left late...this left me with a mere six minutes. I’d like to tell you what happened after this but I’m not entirely sure I can...I seem to remember a very steep ramp which I sort of fell down with my bag, and then another huge set of steps upto the platform...the next thing I remember is the delightful friendly face of the sncf man as he grabbed my case and shoved it onto the train as I and it left the platform. And so somehow, I made it.

On arrival I was picked up by Céline* and taken back to her house to meet her family and have, a very long, lunch. We discussed various children’s book with her adorable daughters, music festivals, theatre and food. At the table I provided hilarious entertainment to her two daughters by simply placing my bread on the edge of my plate instead of on the table itself and by talking ‘comme une suisse’ aka slowly.

The afternoon was another small disaster as I had no access to the toilets or kitchen – and even now I have no kitchen. My room however is very big, there is lots of storage and the bed is fairly comfortable. Yet I am told this is only temporary and that we are to be moved into a small house during the next two weeks. Céline* took my on a quick tour of the town, and to buy groceries, I also became a member of the library and tried the local cheese in the fromagerie.

On the walk back to ma chambre I almost stepped on a slug and so like a true girl exclaimed ‘ew slug’ in English...at which point Céline* got very excited and began to explain that she had seen an English film where the word ‘slug’ is used in a colloquial sense to express ‘s’embrasser’ – this puzzled me somewhat...when do we use slug to express any form of affection? In then dawned on me on what Céline had heard was ‘snog’, as I explained her mistake she found it highly amusing, as I’m sure will you.

Being left on my own for the first time wasn’t easy, it’s very easy to suddenly feel very alone and a very long way away from anything. However I’m feeling much brighter after a good night’s sleep and am looking forward to spending yet another meal with Céline* and her family, including her Italian father, so I’m told.

a bientot!!

stranded, squatting and saved in Paris

What a way to begin this year, entering France during a general strike...parfait :L ! The strike meant we still had to use our eurostar, but then couldn’t (easily) get any further, and trust me with the bags I had ease was high on my list of essentials. And so it was time to look for a hostel...amazingly a friend of mine, come life saver, promptly informed me that she actually had a spare room in Paris (huge sigh of relief)!

So after many tearful goodbyes a short hop across the channel with some ridiculously heavy bags we found ourselves walking thought Gare du Nord and seeing a very friendly face standing at the end of the platform!! Our friendly face came with us in a taxi to aforementioned spare room...and oh the taxi ride – I was excited as a three year old...first thing I saw was ‘Keira Knightly’s’ breast exposed in a somewhat more explicit Chanel poster than we tend to find in England! After that cultural experience we actually drove right past the Louvre and spotted the Eiffel Tower proudly reaching its head up over the top of the skyline and making squeal a little in excitement!

We spent the rest of that day exploring Montmatre and Sacre Coeur; which, as it happens, was my favourite part of Paris. The views, the street performers, the market of artists who were intent on drawing any passing face, the graffiti and cobbled streets. And...the best crêpe I’ve ever eaten, fact. As the evening drew in we popped into a small franco-italian resto to devour both the moules frites and the sounds of the piano.

The next day we had to sacrifice our tour guide to her university classes and so braved the metro alone, and survived! After having managed to a)buy a rail card b)refunded our tickets and c) bought new ones we rewarded ourselves to a nice meal in a small restaurant à la place de la Bastille. Followed by a huge walk from the Eiffel tower, down the Champs Elysée, trought Les Tulleries and finally around the Louvre.

It had been a whirlwind trip of Paris, that night we crashed into our single bed (being careful not to kick eachother in the face) and awaited the next morning...it was time .

ca y est, c'est le grand jour!!

and so it begins.

I leave this morning with a butterfly filled stomach after a restless night!
I will arrive at my friends house in Ascott around lunch time and will say, without doubt, a tearful farewell to my parents soon afterwards.

Preparations are made for a quick stay in Paris, with one friend showing extreme kindness by letting us squat down in her spare room for free (thankyouthankyouClare).
Hopefully by Saturday the grèves  will be over and I will finally arrive at my home-to-be for seven months.

I will report back about my Parisian adventures very soon!

these boots are made for walking

I'm quite sure that spending a lot of money on new boots isn't supposed to make you feel any better about leaving your friends, family, city and home for seven months...but somehow it does.

In all seriousness, as my pile of warm clothes, books, lesson plans, school resources and shoes accumulates I am beginning to feel a lot more prepared, and therefore more relaxed.

Saying bye to Sheffield this week wasn't easy. During my (hellish) train journey home I had time to think about my time there. It's easy for many to say that University was/is the best time of their lives...but since my arrival in Sheffield two years ago I really have gained so much. The people I have met are now securely my best friends, the city itself never fails to make me smile, I have learnt so much (!) not only in my subject but about life in general, and myself.

Lets just hope Champagnole can live up to The Steel City!!

11 days!!

the fear

has definitely set in
hello sleepless nights!

lac chalin

Can't wait to visit this!

I've heard the locals skate on it in winter and swim in it in summer!

Au revoir...

I spent last night celebrating my 'early 21st' at an Au Revoir Party!








The surprises starting rolling in early on Friday, when my best friend walked into the bar I work in! We then spent a lovely time having dinner with my family and catching up (we had spent a whole 4 days apart!)
The next day was a manic rush as we tried to cram 21 balloons into the car, decorate 72 cupcakes (!!) and set up enough tents to house my awaited guests!
Friends from far and wide trickled in throughout the day, despite nightmarish transport issues! It was so lovely to know they had all made the effort!
From there the night spiralled out of control; my dad was forced to do Jagerbombs!!

The party carried on back at home and resulted in the majority of my friends sleeping in a tent that was pitched, on a trampoline!!

Saying goodbye wasn't easy but being surrounded by so many encouraging people with lots of best wishes definitely gave me a little bit more courage!

17 days til take off!

Bibliotheque municipal !

I hope to spend lots of time here this year :)

photo taken from http://www.champagnole.fr/-Bibliotheque-Municipale-.html

le doubs

undecided

to revise grammar points...or not to revise grammar points
that is the question.

does it matter if I go to France with my French feeling a bit rusty?
I am after all, still a student.

but can I really expect people to respect me with my shoddy grammar and stuttering pronunciation?

what I wouldn't give to sit down for coffee with my lovely course-mates and get a little casual practice before the big day!

*sigh*