Swings & Roundabouts

Today was a perfect example of the many swings and roundabouts that make up everyday life here. I woke up grumpy, having spent three days alone now, broken only by the occasional supermarket trip. I debated staying in bed and watching One Tree Hill back to back from dawn until dusk, when a line from Rudyard Kipling's 'If' poem stirred in my consciousness; 'if you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance run'. One Tree Hill wasn't quite going to classify as distance run. I was going to have to do something. So I got dressed and ready to go and sit in the free wifi café like the day before and the day before, and embarrass myself again with the men that sit and ogle by the counter while I'm stammering 'je ne comprende pas' when the man asks me if I want to pay upfront. I was just washing up breakfast and searching under the sink for a new sponge when I came across bottles of cleaning products and the light bulb clicked on in my head. Cleaning was the way to spend this day. I would top to tail the apartment and when Danny and Becca arrive tomorrow it would be spotless and shining. 40 minutes of cleaning quickly escalated and turned into Extreme Home Makeover, and I turned the whole thing around to look much more feng shui-ed and not so offensive- the orange filing cabinets are banished now to just one corner. 

Two hours had passed without facebook or Oreos, and with a final flourish I pulled the plug of the hotplates out of the wall to move them to a more central location on the filing cabinet when there was a horrible crack and one of the plug pins fell on the floor. Suddenly, all the food which I cook on the hot plate flashed before my eyes, pasta, peas, soup, eggs, salmon... and I was staring desolately at the plug. I am not much of a DIY girl, because Dad has since explained (not very clearly), how simple it is to change a plug. But from my 10 years of studying French, although I could debate the back legs off a donkey about global warming or secularism in schools, I would not know how to start saying, "hello, I just pulled the plug out of the wall and the pin fell off." I also realised, until I was paid, I had left soup, pasta, an avocado and a tomato, and could not buy any more food, not least a new hot plate! I also rather think it is the schools responsibility to buy a new hot plate, and a new microwave, but since we have no contract here, negotiating things like that is a rather tricky business.

In self destruct manner, I decided to eat the last two edible things- the tomato and the avocado. Slicing furiously into the avocado proved troublesome because I had not realised, in my haste, it wasn't ripe. The knife slid neatly off the tough avocado and into my little finger. Now I had a bloody, unripe avocado. I still ate it, because it would have been too tragic to eat a tomato for lunch. At this point I was feeling murderous and speaking to Daniel, who is coming tomorrow and bringing a bag of things I really need from home, did not prove helpful. With him going through the pile of things I had left and going 'what on earth do you want these for?', picking up my beautiful, long sought after, saved up for, and treasured espadrille wedges, 'they look like garden furniture'.

Then I decided to go to the cash point and check on my money, to get me out of the house. On the way I saw the gardener who is really nice, very funny and doesn't speak any English but we had an attempted conversation in which I discovered, the heating is going on tonight! At last! Though as I sit here writing my fingernails are actually blue so I'm not sure what time that means. And then, my bank account was blissfully full of a month's wages and all the week of observation, misunderstandings, uncontrollable classes and broken hobs seemed worth it and I went off to the supermarket, relishing the challenge of buying meals that didn't have to be cooked in any way shape or form. I came back with smoked salmon, a pineapple, bananas, bread and more avocados.
Then, I booked the last of my travel plans before Christmas- Germany at the start of December to see the Christmas markets but more importantly to see my lovely uni friends and 4th year house mates, Georgia, Paige and Sofia, to get together at Sofia's in Jena and then go to see the spectacular Christmas markets in Nuremberg. I cannot wait to spend the weekend with them, and it fills the last month I'm here with something to look forward to before I get home on the 13th December. SO...happy days. What started a terrible day, has ended with a happy Amy, eating smoked salmon and avocado on bruschetta and happily awaiting the next adventure, Daniel's arrival in Avignon tomorrow night.

a preview of the spectacular Christmas markets in Nuremberg

An Irish Excursion

5.30 am. Another early start. I heaved myself out of bed, checked phone, purse, camera, bag, coat etc were all still in the vicinity and dressed for the day tour we had booked to the Cliffs of Moher. After a strong coffee, we located the bus stop and gave our names to the tour guide and driver, a funny old Irishman who introduced himself as 'Bud', 'Bud...Weiser, but I'm no wiser than I was yesterday.' I wondered vaguely how many laughs he normally gets at 6am but my coach load of American tourists were lapping it up. We drove straight out of Dublin down the motorway and stopped at a service station for more coffee. Behind was a field of horses, and the sun was just rising so I wandered to the fence to take a photo. One of the horses, obviously used to being fed by tourists, ambled over, and stuck his nose in my camera. I chatted to him for a bit, and turned back to the coach, feeling slightly homesick, where I saw the Americans looking at me incredulously as if I was some sort of horse whisperer. I hid a smile, and tried to look nonchalant. 

The Cliffs of Moher, were, without a doubt, beautiful. Spectacular, jaw dropping views of the sea, and the cliffs cutting away on either side of us. This was made even more breathtaking by the fact there was no barrier between us and the cliff face, no high fence, just grass and then a steep drop. Attached to the fence on the other side of us were various signs 'Talk to Samaritans'. The tour guide had instructed us all to be back at 3pm, and impressed upon us that his concern came from experience of times when people didn't. We walked along the cliffs, marvelling at the people who were standing right on the cliff edge. While Becca was taking photos I slid into a sitting position, and sat for a while, feeling I was on the edge of the world.

The tour took us back, to Doolin, where we had lunch in a pub, and then through the Burren, limestone pavements that stretches to the coast and is dotted with ramshackle cottages and little farms that are subsidised by the government because of the difficulty to make a living in such a rural part of Ireland. The Irish countryside was, as expected, very green, but much different to England, in a way I didn't expect. Their houses were not similar, there were either small white cottages, or large sprawling, American type doll houses in bright colours, which were hideous additions to the landscape (in my personal opinion, but not shared by the others on the coach). 

The final stop was for hot chocolate in a pub in Kinvara where the famous Dunguaire Castle is, the most photographed castle in Ireland, where the story goes that the Lord who built the castle was so proud of its architecture and uniqueness that he had murdered 6 of the masonries who built it so another castle like it could not be replicated. The tour guide was full of stories and facts; he told us the term 'stinking rich' derived from the days when the very very wealthy would pay large sums of money to the church and in return, be buried within the church walls when they died. Interestingly when I got back to the hostel full of information to relate to Dad, he said, of course, none of it was true. So I did some research on some of the things we were told during the day, and it transpires, my cynical father was right, none of it was true. But, I won't tell the Americans that. 

Dublin

As I said, at 3.55 my alarm sounded for the start of a very long whirlwind day in Dublin. At 6.20 we took off, I reluctantly turned off my data roaming having been told twice by the air hostess (I think she'd have been more sympathetic if she know turning off my data roaming meant goodbye to my straightforward access to the rest of the world until Christmas) and in 40 minutes we had landed in Dublin. The skies were blue, and having been told in absolute certainty it would be raining in Ireland, I felt smug and my distress at leaving home eased a little. 

leaving Leeds behind as the sun comes up

Setting out into the city, in my new boots, I was struck that it was unlike anywhere I had ever been. In this city you could feel the strength of the Irish love and pride for their country and their culture in every way you turned. It wasn't too privileged, yet it wasn't impoverished, and once you stepped out into the city you felt a part of the city. You could see it was rough, unlike some of the sanitised tourist cities in England, but unlike Marseille, that stank of poverty and desperation, it was charming. It short, it was a rough diamond. 

For the first time in my life, my map reading skills failed me entirely in Dublin, and we walked a circle through Temple Bar, City Hall, Christchurch Cathedral and Dublin Castle three times while I tried to lead us into the medieval town. My plan was to head to Bewley's Tea Rooms- the Betty's of Dunlin according to my father- for lunch. Well. I can save anyone the trouble of trekking to Bewley's in future. I am aware, I like to fly the flag for Betty's but Bewley's didn't even come up to Vodka Revolution food standards, and it cost an arm and a leg more. I paid 16€ for the privilege of a soggy bruschetta and over sweet chocolate cake and I don't think I'm a tough food critic. I hope anyone who reads this and goes to Dublin, heeds my advice and searches for a worthier place to spend their money for lunch. 

Christchurch Cathedral

obligatory photo in the grounds of Dublin Castle, with obligatory green scarf

After lunch, rather than face further shame of admitting to the others we had been walking in the wrong direction for 15 minutes, I handed the map over to Becca and we went in the direction of Trinity College. Trinity college was founded in the 1500s, modelled on Oxford and Cambridge and is Ireland's oldest university. It was a highlight of Dublin for me and awe inspiring to wander through the beautiful architecture of the buildings, rather Hogwarts-esque, amongst the many students for whom it was just another day. 

We then went back to the hostel to check in, freshen up, drop off luggage, use the wifi and then made our way back out, women on a mission to find some Guinness. I had been advised from many people trying the Irish Guinness is critical, because of the way they pour it, and use nitrogen to make it as thick and creamy as possible (at least that's what I understood). We stopped at a highly recommended pub in temple bar, the Auld Dubliner and ordered three Guinnesses which we drank and listened sleepily to the live music and the raucous atmosphere. For dinner we crossed the road to the Elephant and Castle which is very popular and very highly recommended restaurant and had substandard overcooked burgers- no comment on this one, I discovered this weekend, either we went to the wrong places or Irish food doesn't come up to scratch. 

you can see the Irish man playing live music behind us to my left.

And then, exhausted, we staggered back to the hostel, having booked a tour to the Cliffs of Moher in the morning, meaning a 6am start. We had a 6 bed girls dorm which meant sharing with three people we didn't know and... it was an experience, my first hostel experience. I had no idea what to expect but before getting into bed I strung up my bags and coats in elaborate places where they would be noisy and an effort to remove to make sure no one could rob me while I was asleep. I locked the door from the inside (which seemed like a logical decision) and got into bed with phone and money on my person. Then I lay there, rigid and stiff as a board, wondering if I would wake up alive. 

It didn't take long for sleep to come and I must have been spark out for a while before I heard the door rattling and loud bangs. For a while I lay, paralyzed half by sleep and half by fear wondering what was going to happen when the noise subsided and again I started to drift away again. And then the banging was louder and more insistent and there was a male voice, and I was just wondering whether to climb out of the window when I heard Katie get up and open the door. The night porter explained tersely the door shouldn't have been locked from the inside, and I realised slowly my mistake, considered confessing, but turned over and went peacefully back to sleep. Or not. The next time I was woken was by shouting in the street, just below the open window. An Irish man seemed to be having a loud angry argument with somebody, except nobody was replying and lying awake, listening for what seemed like a good 45 minutes, my emotions rambling between, fear, exhaustion, shock, irritation and panic, I came to the conclusion he must have been mad. His vocabulary was more than colourful and a few death threats were thrown in as well and my mind wondered vaguely how I'd come so far from York, before deciding it was a character building experience and slowly drifting back to sleep.

Homeward Bound

It's been a quiet week on the blogging front, and today I'm blogging a backlog of a week of travels but that's alright because it's Sunday and if you recall- that means nothing to do here in Apt. Our first week of holiday has flown by and it didn't half go quickly. I didn't outline my travel plans very specifically before I left because they involved an impromptu trip home, arriving the day after Daniels birthday and so I kept them quiet in the hope of giving him a very happy birthday surprise.

I did not intend to go home before Christmas, as my frequent trips across the country between Nottingham and York have become a bit of a family joke but Becca and her friend had booked three days in Edinburgh so it seemed to me a good opportunity for me to stay at home and stock up on everything English I was missing so much. Last week was a tense one with Daniel unaware he would be seeing me in the near future and me trying to organise my family and his family not to let anything slip!

So Sunday dawned at last and after packing up we left the apartment at 12, to take the bus to Avignon. Because of the bus times, train times and flight time we had a reasonable amount of waiting around, with me using every bit of available free wifi to explain to a bemused Daniel the reason I was so quiet was that I was very busy and wasn't checking my phone. To touch down in England was utter bliss, with a chip off the old block Yorkshire taxi driver, driving familiar roads and best of all- switching on data roaming!

flight boarding at long last

We arrived home at midnight, 12 hours after setting out, and after big kisses from the dogs and showing the girls their rooms I jumped in the car and headed round to Daniel's. Having only just messaged him to say I was going to sleep (in bed, in France) Daniel's expression when he opened the door to me was one of utter shock and disbelief. While I exchanged hugs and kisses with  Heather, Jeff and Charlie he had to go out of the room to compose himself and spent the rest of the night looking anxiously at me as if I was a figment of his imagination and could disappear at any moment.

somebody pleased to see Daniel- or wanting to throttle him?

And so three lovely days passed at home, with dog walking, lunches in York, home cooked food, and lovely autumnal weather* and as was inevitable Wednesday night came round all too quickly, sparking the obligatory I-don't-want-to-leave meltdown. But time stops for no man and it didn't stop for me, so at 4am on Thursday morning my alarm sounded, pulling me out of my dreaming state and sending me hurtling again through the dark, damp countryside, to Leeds Bradford Airport. But that's another blog post. 

Mannions & Co Mocha 

*more like rain, rain and more rain

Bonnes Vacances

Yesterday was my last day at work before the start of their October holidays- two weeks off from school and as a consequence when I arrived at school yesterday the teachers explained to me, the students were already on holiday. Still I like this school , they always make me feel welcome and like a part of the staff. My first class ran smoothly. I had a lesson prepared on 'instructions' with cue cards and a wordsearch. It is amazing to me how differently the classes treat you. This class (CM2- the oldest) are not the most focused, but they are interested in interacting with me, so the class went well and they make me laugh. It took us exactly half an hour to get through the exercise which is my allotted time in each class.

walk to school

The second class was CE2 who are much younger and who just practiced asking my name and where I come from. They had to draw me and write my name with a speech bubble coming out of my mouth, saying I come from England. One of the things the students have a lot of trouble with is the distinction between 'England' and 'English'. A lot of speech bubbles said 'I come from English.' One boy said to me, 'My name is.... and I come from Spanish,' and I had just opened my mouth to correct him when the teacher said, 'very good! Well done!' It is very hard to correct the teachers English in front of the class so I let it go.

Another thing they struggle to grasp is the difference between America and England. Time and time again when I asked about their ideas of English stereotypes, hands would shoot up and they'd say 'baseball!', 'hamburgers!' and when I said I came from York they said collectively, 'aaahh! New York!'. I am considering it my personal duty to iron out their Americanisms and teach them about real English culture.

sun at lunchtime

My afternoon lessons went moderately well except for one class who were so loud and badly behaved, I had no authority over them whatsoever. They were more interested in drawing union jacks on their whiteboards than learning about English stereotypes. One of the girls, who had given me a huge hug when she saw me- I had been touched- paid absolutely no attention to anything I said, and never looked in my direction once during the lesson so goodness knows what runs through her head! Frustratingly the teacher never stepped in, so its more or less impossible to enforce any rules or respect from them- I'll have to work on that.

There is a lot of bad communication within this assistantship programme that has made it hard work. Before I started, I was told, I was not a teacher and I was not to take classes. I was there to assist and take small groups of children. I have tried to explain this to teachers but time after time they expect me to stand in front of the class and take the whole class while they sit at the back and do marking etc. Because the students struggle to understand me and I struggle to understand them it makes it very difficult to establish a good relationship between us.

first signs of autumn in Apt

My final class was CM1 and in there, the teacher made the world of difference. He started the class by explaining in french I was here for half an hour to do English and we would be looking at instructions. He asked the children to think of the connotations of the word 'instructions' to encourage them to work out what it meant in french- 'conseignes', and then let me do my part. Immediately it was so much easier because they were in perfect understanding of what was expected of them. If the noise level grew he silenced them with one word and he also spoke to me in English in front of the students which meant I could understand and they couldn't, and so I wasn't undermined at any point. It makes me think about teaching as a career choice when you see the teachers that really make the difference.

I was exhausted at the end of the day, but Becca and I had both finished so we went out for a dinner at a Crepe restaurant. Another interesting thing in Provence- it was Thursday night and we were the only people in the restaurant, and in the town when we left. Still, it was a delicious dinner and a very nice way to celebrate the two weeks of teaching done. Becca has been in Apt for a month now, and me three weeks and it was nice to sit and reflect on the time spent, (the money spent- not so nice) and what we'd learnt. It could seem like we don't do a lot here, but I think we were both feeling ready for a holiday!

coffee icecream, nutella, cream and speculoos crepe

Great British Problems

This morning, after saying goodbye to Georgia, I prepared my lesson for today on 'England'- cities in England, stereotypes of England, weather in England, sport in England. I took these to the school and showed them to the teachers, who showed me the sheets they had prepared- from a map of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales the students had to colour in the countries that constitute Great Britain, and the countries that constitute the United Kingdom. Then they had to fill in the capital cities of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. On both of these subjects my knowledge is a bit* sketchy, but I thought I'd be able to work it out.

rainy morning

I started with the oldest class, where I asked the children to think about stereotypes they know of England. They sat there dead pan, staring at me while I jovially explained the English like to eat fish and chips and play cricket. So I started the colouring exercise but had no idea what was the distinction between 'Great Britain' and the 'United Kingdom' I had to check with the teacher. She didn't know so I cautiously tried to tell her I thought the difference was that Great Britain was not including Northern Ireland. She promptly explained to the class Great Britain was England, Wales, Scotland and Southern Ireland. At this point I was close to banging my head on the wall so I started with capital cities. London was no problem- thankfully- and I had just opened my mouth to explain Edinburgh is the capital of Scotland when the teacher said it was Glasgow. Wondering how I had got to the tender age of 21 without realising Glasgow was the capital of Scotland I then came round to Wales and hit a blank. 

Two hours and two classes later, it was all going much better and the classes were enjoying my stereotypes and starting to join in. I was confidently explaining the capital of Scotland is Glasgow, silently thanking the powers that be that I hadn't embarrassed myself by saying Edinburgh, when this teacher stopped me. 'Glasgow is the capital of Scotland? Not Edinburgh?' 'Ahhh-' I smiled indulgently, 'Interestingly, until today I thought it was Edinburgh too. But according to Madame Bessoneau it is actually Glasgow.' The children were painstakingly carefully writing Glasgow on their beautifully coloured in maps. She frowned and pulled out a dictionary, flipping through to find the correct page and showing it to me. 'Edinburgh...capital of Scotland.' Ahhh. Awkward.

When I got home I put my pyjamas on and took my make up off immediately, and got into bed. Then I ventured to the fridge where I found a tomato and a bottle of wine. Realising desperate times mean desperate measures, I did what any self respecting woman would do, and got dressed again to venture out to the supermarket on a chocolate run. I was just looking guiltily at the array of chocolate on the conveyor belt, feeling very Bridget Jones-esque when I heard a gaggle of 10 year old boys behind me; 'ahhh! c'est la prof d'anglaise!' I did tell them I like chocolate.

*VERY sketchy

Can We Have Some Apples for the Table?

This weekend I had my first guest in Apt, Georgia, and it was so good to see her. Though Becca and I had a suspicion we were not permitted guests in the apartment, this wasn't explicitly explained to us, so some dodgy manoeuvres had to take place to smuggle Georgia in. Fortunately, no one raised an eyebrow when they saw us with Georgia coming and going from the apartment so I am wondered if the no guests rule is maybe outdated. There is nothing like catching up with very good friends and this was my favourite weekend so far in France. After such an amazing but whirlwind time in Cannes Georgia and I cooked in on Sunday and had pancetta Parmesan pasta and watched Pride and Prejudice in bed.

exploring Apt

Monday we went into town for breakfast. In my three weeks here I must not have been out yet on a Monday because I made yet another discovery. In addition to very quiet Wednesdays and comatose Sundays, Monday is another day on which all shops and patisseries are closed. So I gave Georgia a tour of Apt as best as I could- 'this is our favourite patisserie..but it's closed', 'this place sells really good pizza, but its closed', 'I saw a really nice bag in here..but it's closed'..etc etc you get the picture.

I left Georgia and Becca together in the afternoon, where it sounds like they had an entertaining time chatting to the french owner of 'pizzaburger', a restaurant that sells only burgers, not pizzas, and watching french soaps. I went to work and did my first week properly teaching the classes. The first class were hard to get under control, so I was amazed in the second class when they all sat in perfect silence while we went through the charade of telling the time; 'five past, ten past, quarter past...'. I commented on their good behaviour at the end. He laughed- 'no, they are just scared of me!'

Georgia and I pre dinner

In the evening we went out for dinner in Apt and had pizzas (NOT good at all) but it was a funny meal because the two male waiters seemed so ecstatic to have any females under 60 in their restaurant, they certainly waited on us hand and foot. This was made funnier by plenty of wine and Georgia, taking the opportunity to practise her French after speaking German and living in Germany for the last six weeks, asking the waiters 'est-ce que nous pouvons avoir des pommes pour la table?' (Translation: could we have some apples for the table?) She was meaning to ask for chips but we could not stop laughing. I have to add however, that for someone who has been speaking another foreign language on a daily basis since the start of September, and not having practised her French since May, her French was still excellent as always. 

21 (Cannes)

My 21st started at 5.30 in the morning on the bus to Avignon, with a very friendly bus driver who was more concerned that my seat would recline so I could sleep than watching the road. The bus drivers are very nice here. We had coffee and croissants at the TGV station where we met Alison and then got on the train to Cannes. The train takes 2 and a half hours which was time to open all my cards from home (thank you everybody). Cannes was warm and sunny, yet so much quieter than in summertime. We checked into our hotel which was lovely, and headed down to the beach- stopping on the way to pick up some hideously overpriced sandwiches, (10€50 for a sandwich and a drink).

Lying on the beach, I was thinking it was a bittersweet birthday, because I was with good friends, on the beach, in the south of France and not much can be luckier than that, but because I was so far from friends and family at home on my 21st and I missed them terribly. Mid afternoon we met Claire, my friend here who lives in Cannes but studies at Nice, who came across for the afternoon to see us all and we headed to the incredible Patisserie, Jean- Luc Pelé- where she took me last year and I felt vaguely embarrassed about raving to her about Betty's so much, after trying their desserts. This was, in effect, my birthday cake, and it was DELICIOUS.

After that we climbed up into the old town of Cannes, which climbs away on the hillside up to an old castle that gives beautiful views of the town, the Vieux Port and the palms that stripe the Boulevard de la Croisette and the Mediterranean, and then headed back down for some shopping (I had decided not to shop, since pay day doesn't seem that close yet and we have just paid for flights and hostels for a week in Ireland but as we were waiting for Claire to buy a card, we paused outside Zara, and it seemed rude not to go in). Then we bought wine and headed back to the hotel room to say goodbye to Claire, open the wine, and start the evening.

At half six, Georgia arrived, and after a little bit of confusion (I'm on platform two, where are you?- I've just crossed onto platform one- Wait there! I'll cross back over, where are you now?- Oh no, I'm on platform two again) we spotted each other and burst into tears. Back with Georgia the celebrations started and we opened the wine and sat on the balcony as the sun was going down. She bought me a hilarious selection of gifts she thought I might be missing- dairy milk, kettle crisps and some English breakfast tea in a Kate and Wills Royal Wedding memorial tin (how they are still selling those, I do not know).

together again

Slightly tipsy and enjoying the warm evening we headed down the other end of the town to Rue Maynadier, to a lovely restaurant called Chez Vincent et Nicolas, where we sat in a covered outside terrace bit and had some delicious meals- pasta, salmon, duck, chocolate melt in the middle pudding and crême brulée. The atmosphere was so french and so relaxing and we found ourselves walking back after midnight, sleepy, full and happy to get into bed with some more wine and chat. (The night wasn't over yet, as Alison had yet to fuse the electricity but that's another story).

Finallement- Le Weekend

Today I did a full day at school and  I enjoyed it more than the other two days, because I felt more integrated. I had time to sit and talk to the other teachers in the staff room and they were very friendly and much more accepting of my 'week of observation'- which has been the bane of my life this week. I started with an hour and a half in one class watching them doing maths and then an hour and a half with another teacher watching them doing French grammar. These children were naughtier and there were more troublemakers but I am amazed at their very keen desire to speak French. They all want to know me and hear about me, which is lovely but made for some interesting moments.

for want of a picture to illustrate my day I took one of the toilet floor

In my first class after lunch the teacher was trying to do science with them but she explained to me, since I had arrived they would not concentrate so could I sing a song with them. What a question! I wasn't going to launch into my high school musical repertoire but I explained cautiously I don't sing that well and she said, no matter, perhaps you can play a game. So we started with school materials- I say the vocabulary in English and they hold up the item. This started reasonably well except for some trouble with waving scissors around, so I quickly stopped that and decided everybody could write a question in french in their book and I would read them out and answer in English. The first thing most children wanted to know, again, was why do you live in Apt when you come from England? And the one that made me really laugh, why did you 'quitter' England? They seemed very concerned about my family back at home.

The final class was with the only male teacher, Gregoire, who was very good at his job, and quite inspiring to watch. Or maybe that's because he was tall, dark and quite handsome and had a very disarming French accent when he spoke English. I might have got the two confused. Here again, I sat at the front and the students asked me their questions, including 'do you have a drivers license?' and 'are you rich?' Interesting. I looked at Gregoire for confirmation that I should answer this and he nodded so I explained that students generally are not very rich and they seemed to understand. When I left it was cooler than it's been all week and the men were once again gathered round playing boules in the fading sunlight. Tomorrow I am making preparations for my birthday weekend in Cannes, and Georgia coming to stay. I found a nice bunch of birthday cards in my postbox this morning. Thank you everyone! 

Encore Provence

Tuesday was my second day in school, which went much the same but better than the first. I like the principal, he's quite funny as far as I can tell, because he speaks very fast but I just laugh whenever he pauses. This is not foolproof- I've had more than one strange look from him as well.

my first day breakfast

The three classes I work in are all at the same standard of English which is helpful because I only have to prepare one lesson and then repeat it three times with each class on a Tuesday afternoon. However, yet again, the teachers did not realise it was a week of observation and the last two were expecting me to take their class. It is frustrating to keep explaining in another language, while trying to be very polite and give a good impression, that our contract states we are not supposed to take classes at all or start assisting this first week. In the end, we did three impromptu lessons where I introduced myself in English and the children had to think up questions they knew how to ask in English and then could come up one by one to ask me. This resulted in some great questions; 'do you like chocolate?' and 'do you like cheese?' (yes,no) and some more interesting ones, such as 'what colour is it?,' and 'how much is it?'. When I told them I lived in Apt they were astounded and couldn't seem to get their head round it until the teacher asked them to think about how I would work in Apt yet live in England. Once that thought had processed they seemed to accept it.

Again, the children were very keen to say 'hello' and 'goodbye', and every moment a joke was shared in class, the students would swing round to watch my reaction. When I was asked my birthday and I explained it was this Saturday, one of the little girls nearly fell off her seat. The teacher explained it was her birthday on Saturday too and this seemed to please her so much she spent the rest of the lesson, glancing round at me and whenever I caught her eye I got a big toothy smile and a wave. Trop mignon!

my walk down from the school- lovely now but through secluded woods when it gets dark maybe not so good 

So now, somehow two weeks have gone by since I arrived in Provence and I can't believe that's all its been. Everybody said to me, the first few weeks will drag, and then it will fly by, yet somehow, here I am, feeling in a way it was only yesterday I said goodbye to everyone at home yet also that it was a lifetime ago, so much has happened since. Today I went into Avignon and met another English assistant for coffee and then we went to her friend's house for a big lunch of cheese, bread, wine, tomatoes where I met lots of fellow Erasmus students. It really does feel like swings and roundabouts here but I am slowly beginning to realise this is a year I'm never going to forget, and for all the right reasons.

like this

First Day At School

This morning felt exactly like starting school, and setting out with no idea where I was supposed to be or what to expect, having still not received any information from anyone, I had that nervous stomach wrenching trepidation, that I am beginning to get quite used to. I made the bad decision of putting on a pencil skirt and shirt which I regretted as soon as I started trying to walk up the long hill to my first school- the skirt was seriously movement restrictive and a 5 minute walk can easily take 20 when you are walking like a penguin.

I arrived at the school and introduced myself to the Principal, Christophe, who looked at me strangely and said, you are supposed to be here tomorrow? I explained I had no idea- I had no timetable and he laughed and said, you were supposed to find out on Friday at the reunion but Florence forgot to tell you. From his expression is was evident that Florence was prone to forgetting things. So he sent me along to the Academic Inspection office where Florence arrived and gave me my schedule; Tuesday afternoon, 4 hours at École Saint-Exupéry, Monday at Henri-Bosco and Thursday at Jean-Giono, a great schedule- no early starts and Fridays off for travelling. This was all very well but I'd missed my first day already. Feeling exasperated, and trying not to show it, I asked if I should still go for the afternoon at Henri-Bosco to start the week of observation that all the language assistants have to do. You can guess the response....'you have a week of observation??!'

The way down the hillside was easier with the skirt and I found, having walked up a winding road that went back and forth and must have added an extra mile onto my walk, there was actually a footpath that led directly through the woodland, down the mountain and past this church, and a stunning view of Apt especially as the sun was still rising.

So next I headed to École Jean-Giono and met the principal- I might add that having purchased several smart dresses, skirts and shirts in England, the principal and all the teachers were in hoodies and jeans. He was friendly and was keen to practise his English on me as lots of the people here are, and told me I would start work on Thursday at nine minus fifteen. Then I went to Henri- Bosco, where again they were very friendly, to sort out my schedule and where I was to start my week of observation.

École jean giono

Alors, to begin with, all went well. I was introduced to the students who looked at me like I was a creature from out of space- but in a friendly, curious way. I explained to the teachers I had to do a week of observation- so they said that was fine and I sat at the back of the first class after the teacher introduced me, while the students kept stealing furtive glances at me and beaming from ear to ear if I caught their eye. I must have been lulled into a false sense of security because in the next class, the male teacher obviously wasn't aware it was a week of observation, and started firing questions at me in fast French that I struggled to understand, in front of a class of 10 year olds. When he had ascertained I was the new language assistant, I live in England and I study French at university, he then left me at the front of the class, as if expecting me to take it, in front of 30 children, all with eyes fixated on me, wondering what on earth I was going to say next. In all the last two weeks, this was probably the worst moment. I had to explain to him in front of the class, I had not prepared a lesson, as I thought it was an observation week. It was fine, but humiliating to say the least, though he was nice about it and made a joke of it. I then went on to my third class, taught by the directrice, where the children were much younger and very curious about me. I spent the end of the day there, and we did 'hello, what is your name? My name is.... and I am a girl, or I am a boy'. At the end of the day all the children took immense pleasure in saying 'bye bye' in English. They seem to really enjoy their languages here. So that was the end of my first day, and some of it was good, but I still cringe when I think of that second class. Next week I have preparations to do for all the lessons- (equipped with no internet and just a blackboard, I might add), but for now, it is just good to know, this time yesterday I had no schedule and no idea of what to expect from my year of work and now I know both of these things so that is positive!

In other news, wifi problems are still occurring every which way we try to resolve them but it was another beautiful sunshiney day here in Provence.

Finally Friday

Yesterday was one of those days, the very worst kind of days, and one thing after another kept going wrong. To get into Avignon in time Becca and I were up at 5.30, and so arrived in Avignon at 7.30 with an hour and a half to kill before we started. We had breakfast in one of many beautiful squares in Avignon, a chocolat chaud and un café (un café here is not just a black coffee as I had thought- they are served as espressos and are seriously strong) and tried to connect to the public wifi, to no avail. At this point in proceedings we are not surprised we can't seem to connect to any wifi, just increasingly frustated that we are paying 2€ at a time for 500MB which barely seems to last a day. 

So le formation started and it was a very long day, of presentations, teaching demonstrations, all helpful stuff but a lot of it. An english friend of my aunt's who has a second home near Apt, was staying and we had arranged to meet that night in Apt. I was desperately hoping the afternoon would finish at 3 so I could get home for 5 instead of having to get the later bus and be home at half 7. No such luck, we finished late so I rushed in panic to MacDonalds, where I'd said I'd meet Becca outside to pick up the free wifi and check my emails, and the first thing that came through was an email from the school in which I will be working to say I would find out my schedule at the reunion this evening. Cue: serious panic. 

I trawled through my emails and found nothing whatsoever about a reunion. The school have only emailed me once before, back in June and it obviously did not mention a meet up. On Tuesday when I met my mentor she did mention to me about something on Friday night, but I was struggling to understand and I told her I had already made an appointment so she said, vehemently, 'c'est pas une problème! pas du tout!'. Whether she had not conveyed this to the school or not, I had no idea, and the previous assistant had never mentioned anything like this to me so I was completely confused and completely panicked about what to do. Knowing that I was still in Avignon and unable to get back until late anyway I replied to the school and sent my sincere apologies but that I had not known about it and had already made arrangements that evening. Whether they got it or not I have no idea, so I have been left wondering whether they were sitting waiting for me to arrive or not- I guess I will find out on Monday. 

To add insult to injury there were roadworks going on as we left Avignon, in severe rush hour traffic so a two hour journey was three and with another appointment to get to, I was slowly losing the will to live. Fortunately, the friend I met in Apt saved the day, taking me for pizza, and we talked about home and family and France and Apt and our lives in a beautiful restaurant over wine, pizza and hot chocolates and then walked back through the streets and said goodbye. I slept very well Friday night. Finallement- le weekend!

Marseille

On Thursday, all the language assistants from our region had a welcome 'ceremony' at the University of Aix-Marseille, so Becca and I went down early Wednesday morning to explore the city- spend a day on the coast and try the legendary Bouillabaisse, the saffron and garlic fish soup that Marseille is famous for. Walking down to the Vieux Port through the side streets, I was beginning to question any city that I had previously thought rough. Marseille, 'city of graffiti' seemed to be a city of extreme juxtaposition; a melange of stunning architecture amidst desperate poverty, grit and pollution. The parts of the Rivera I know better- Cannes, Antibes and Nice, share very little in common with Marseille; their excessive glitz and glam seemed a million miles away from this struggling city. Still, Marseille is 2013 Capital of Culture, and we wanted culture. Having had SERIOUS wifi issues this week- not worth going into on this blog because one posts worth of ranting would not be sufficient for the rage I have against the accessibility* of french wifi- we headed to a restaurant on the front of the Vieux Port for mussels;

13 euros here, and so, so good

...and to use their wifi to catch up with the rest of the world. Sea food was checked off the list but sun and sea were still high priority, so we took a boat round to the east of the port, to see the famous calanques of Marseille- white limestone rocks, with deep valleys and colourful fishing villages. Though it felt like there was very little breeze in the enclosure of the Vieux Port, we were warned it would be a bumpy ride, but even writing about this trip two days later my stomach feels a little queasy. The wind was whipping up the spray and buffeting the boat to the point we were warned to stay sitting, and lines of people were slumped against the back bench, clutching plastic bags and looking more than a little peaky. But I pride myself on a stomach made of steel and good sea legs, so I was simply reveling in the fact I was in the Mediterranean sea, off the coast of the French Riviera in early October, catching the best of the midday sunshine.

Dinner was bouillabaisse, fish soup that is a Marseillais speciality, but très cher and a little overrated- or we didn't go to the right place. We spent the evening using the wifi as much as possible and the bath in the hotel room- a luxury! Then to bed for as many hours as possible before another early start.

the view from our hotel window of Le Gare Saint Charles at 6am

breakfast

The morning was spent at the Aix-Marseille University- going over administration, documents, social security, insurance; SUCH a lot of paperwork. But finally, I met some Erasmus friends, from all over the UK and it was really good to catch up over lunch with how they were finding their experience. Most of them were living in Avignon, which was a possibility to Becca and I but we would have to take a two hour bus ride to Apt each morning is not worth the hassle. They said I could go when I wanted, and stay overnight with them if we were going out etc so that was good to know, and any friends are like gold dust when you're feeling so far from home. We spent the afternoon sightseeing again in Marseille, as one girl has lived there for the past year, so she showed us an insider's Marseille- the restaurant on the Vieux Port where the scene in Love Actually where Colin Firth proposed to his Portuguese girlfriend was filmed,  and Les Panniers, the narrow streets where her family were filmed running through the streets to find the restaurant.

I met up with Becca in the evening, about 10 minutes before the train that would get us back before the last bus to Avignon, and we did a mad panicked rush back to the station. We arrived back for the 8pm bus and back in Apt for 10pm, at which point we both fell in to bed, with the combination of a lot of food, wine and sea air and also the prospect of another 5am start, making it VERY easy to sleep.

 *non accessibility