A Blonde Abroad

Compulsory year abroad, and whatever chaos comes with it.

[ablondeabroadblog]

Whoa-oh! We're half way there!

I just can't quite fathom it. I've been in France for almost 3 months. At home everyone is finishing uni and celebrating, I'm hundreds of miles away. I rather wish I was there with them! I'll go to the beach and sunbathe instead. My mummy and brother came to visit last week so we had a lovely time exploring Nîmes and Avignon. It was so nice to see them and such a shame they had to leave again. Nell and I went to Montpellier on Tuesday for a night out with Josh. It was really lovely, we drank outrageously strong pints of mojito and danced until the wee hours. In a freaky turn of events, a bottle of wine, a pint of crazy mojito and 3 pints of beer left me as the sober(est) one. So after I found Josh asleep on the tram tracks and located Nell after she'd been AWOL for 4 hours, I managed to steer us (albeit the long way round the train station at Josh's insistence) into Josh's flat. Off to Perpignan on Tuesday, hope the next 3 months are as good as the first 3 have been!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Well who'd have thought...

All that ballet theory I learnt thinking it would never be useful (especially after IDTA dropped it from the syllabus) has been no end of help in my ballet classes here. Studying ballet in French is quite an experience. Although all the technical term are always given in French, they're significantly harder to spot amongst the general discourse when all the words around them are French too. This of course means that when I'm being told to draw up or pull something (tirer) it sounds an awful lot like being asked to retirez (a position on one foot with the working knee out to the side and (according to different exam boards/dance teachers/trends) the working foot, toe pointed to the side of, under or above the other knee). This, on occasion, left me trying desperately to balance on one leg when other people were just stretching their knees. Relevés were almost as much fun as the word relevé literally means to rise in French. This means that during the barre a relevé could be either a gentle rise or a snap onto demi-pointe as it to an English ballet student. Trying to fit relevés to a nice adage barre left me looking rather silly. Minor linguistic traumas aside, even if my ballet is weaker than ever, its certainly helping my French. Speaking French for hours in dance classes and having to show my understanding with my body, making misunderstandings very obvious, have really helped me learn to listen!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Since I'm reminiscing about dancing today, this rather made me smile.

[ablondeabroadblog]

Get on your dancing shoes!

After several weeks of scouring the internet (and eventually finding a dance shop with dance-themed people to ask) I've found a couple of ballet classes in Nîmes and todays the big day. Sample classes. I have no idea what level of class to go for and am slightly scared of dancing outside the safety of Whiston Dance Academy (which I miss very much). It seems strange that it won't be Julie, Katie or Ben up at the front telling me to do it "again quick-sticks", getting on their soap box or generally going off on tangents, planning or reminiscing. I'm going to find out if its dancing I enjoy or just those wonderful classes with all the girls (and guy) that kept me sweating through the exhausting, ache-inducing warm-ups and putting my feet in my shiny-shoes (although these days it must be said that my Pointe shoes are about the same colour as the floor at St. Cuthberts with bits of black from the sometimes-sticky sometimes-slippy floor wax from Whiston Parish Hall and decidedly un-shiny). So today and tomorrow I'm going to several dance schools around Nîmes to try and find a class that fits my level of used-to-be-pretty-decent-I-think-but-haven't-really-done-much-these-last-two-years. Combined with the whole foreign language thing, (making me glad in advance that ballet steps are named in French and giving me extra appreciation for all that time we spent learning theory) it should be interesting but hopefully I'll be able to keep up. If not, I've found an adults beginners class that I should possibly be ok with. It will be strange to put my dancing-ability into the context of another dance school. I can't imagine it being at all like what I'm used to, and I wonder if they'll spot the same strengths and weaknesses that I was made aware of years ago or if they'll be looking for different things. Or, for that matter, if I even have the same strengths and weaknesses. I have lost a lot of my core strength and there is no way that I can hold my arms in second for as long as I used to but let's hope I can still drag my body through a few of the core elements! Maybe, if I find a place I like, I'll treat myself to some new pointe shoes!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Nothing to do...

but that doesn’t stop the girls finding me tasks! I’ve been on my feet since 6.30 and am taking a thoroughly well deserved moment before the phone rings again or a client manages to set the computer to German and can’t switch it back again. (Don’t know what I’d have done if it had been Chinese.) In the words of Veronique - “J’ai mal à dos”. And I really truly do. The first breakfast shift of the feria went surprisingly smoothly although there were only 14 (easily managed by one person) and two of us worked. Continuing to be amazed by what I can and can’t do. For example, this morning I discovered that I still can’t remember to put the bread out in a morning and I managed to take a key upstairs wrongly (although heaven knows what the correct manner of key-transportation is). On the other hand, apparently I’ve learnt to speak French at some point. Words are popping into my brain that I didn’t even know I knew, others from eons ago when French was something forced upon me by French teachers. It’s a pretty strange feeling, to not consciously instruct my mouth to make the words that it makes. I almost feel more like myself speaking French than I do English. Right now I’d feel even more like myself with some lunch in me! I just hope I’ve got something good in the cupboard!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Touristing in Nîmes

[ablondeabroadblog]

Into the wild...

Or more like wilderness in the kitchen. This morning I've chased a moth and a daddy-long-legs around the dining room, trying to waft them out of the door with a tray (and hoping fervently that no customers would catch my jumping about like a loon). Resisting the urge to squeal like a little girl every time they flew near me was definitely the greatest challenge as I doubt the guests would appreciate that at 6.30am any more than I appreciated wanting to squeal that early in the morning. Trauma averted I returned to the kitchen to relax with my book only to see that the sides were, once again, swarming with ants which needed to be squished before any customers appeared. Not exactly the glamorous life I envisioned for the south of France. Maybe when the weather perks up and I can sunbathe again it'll feel a little more luxurious.

[ablondeabroadblog]

Out for a posh meal but my favourite bit so far is definitely cutlery that looks like its in bed :D

[ablondeabroadblog]

Home Suite Home

I’m going to stop with that pun now but it does rather lend itself to my life here. I’ve officially been working for two weeks today and it’s become inexplicably easier. After a week or two of vague nodding, it’s like all the pieces have slotted in. And not a moment too soon, I was starting to get tired of not understanding my surroundings. It really highlighted just how weak my French is next to my German. Now, for the first time in 10 years, French might be catching up.  So far I’ve managed to: -answer the phone without being anxious. -check customers in and out of the Hotel without forgetting anything.  -refuse to help a client find a prostitute. -refuse to prostitute myself.  -speak German three times.  All in all a successful week. I’ve finally settled into the work. Even if the people on the phone are becoming increasingly rude. I’ve been shouted at twice today for not understanding better French. JUST resisted the urge to shout back at them for not speaking better, slower French, especially when they noticed that I was English and I had asked them to speak more slowly. GRRRR Discovery of the day: French people all talk so fast because the coffee, which they chug like water, is like rocket fuel. I’m still shaking from a small cup I had hours ago. I thought Austrian coffee was strong but it was water by comparison. I managed to fold a whole hotel’s-worth of towels in 20 minutes. Theoretically productive. Realistically leaves me with a lot of time to twiddle my extremely energetic thumbs.  NB The crickel/locust/grasshopper thing is still there. Edging slowly closer…

[ablondeabroadblog]

A hangover and half a croissant...

That's basically been my morning so far. My alarms decided not to go off this morning so instead I was woken up (fortunately) by Anna knocking on my door a little before 7. Not good for a 6.30 shift. I'll have to buy a real alarm clock. In other news there's a hangover hanging over my head threatening to kick in at any second. I really hope it can just hold off for another 20 minutes to the end of my shift! Finally, I've had my first croissant in France. Well half of one at least. A customer asked me to only give him half a croissant and I couldn't bare to see the other half go to waste. The problem is: it was beautiful. I always forget how delicious fresh French croissants are, easily done when confronted with the dry mass-produced ones on offer in England but now I've had the real thing again I think I'm hooked. Bad news for my diet and my arteries but great for my tastebuds!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Jusqu'ici tout va bien...

Actually that’s a slight fib, I’m just about holding it together. Why? You might ask… Stress of the job? Not enough sleep? Too many languages? Well in fact it’s MUCH worse.

There’s a massive cricket in the kitchen.

It’s right next to the coffee filters and hot chocolate and it’s been staring at me. Thankfully nobody has wanted a hot chocolate yet because it might jump onto my head and bite it of. It’s a very big cricket.

[ablondeabroadblog]

My suite life so far...

So I’m one week in, I’ve stopped having panic attacks when the phone rings and I can have actual conversations in French, not just nod along in an appropriate-feeling sorta way. Yay!

Monday was my first solo shift and the big boss was on hand to witness any slip ups. Thankfully he turned out to be really lovely and friendly and helpful. Not too perturbed by some of my more ridiculous questions, we wound up laughing before the shift was up. What’s more, I managed to take a reservation by phone without praying for it to end. Things are definitely looking up.

I have, through Nell, met some of the language assistants working here now and they’re all lovely, such a shame they’ll be leaving soon!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Working 9 to 5...

Well you know - working 6.30 - 10 then 2 - 5 but it doesn't sound the same. although I much prefer today's hours 5 - 8.30 is definitely my sorta work! What a way to make a living!  Seriously though, feeling really settled here now. The work is pretty light even if the hours are obscure. Everybody has been really lovely and really supportive while I got to grips with everything but I'm feeling rather content with everything now.  Best job perk so far: Watching films in the kitchen and keeping an eye on the CCTV - it means I look like I'm doing something of value when customers arrive and I get to watch films all evening. Hope I don't run outta ideas.  Life is good.

[ablondeabroadblog]

Nervous

About to start my first shift. Very nervous, no idea how I'm going to remember everything, especially if I'm told in French! Eek!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Well...

Having met my boss' son and smiled and nodded as he talked, I'm now painfully aware of how shocking my French has become!

[ablondeabroadblog]

La vie en bleu blanc et rouge.

I’m here! I made it to France and so the second leg of my year abroad begins. I’m living and working in Hotel Majestic, Nîmes. Jusqu’ici tout va bien. My near-disasters list is pleasingly short too. All I’ve managed to now is: -to get shouted at on the shuttle bus from the airport for walking past the driver without paying. -to walk the wrong way out of the bus station and wind up in the dodgy bit of town. -to nearly give money to (and therefore be robbed by) one of the fake charity people. -be laughed at by French people for wanting butter AND sugar on my crepe. I would call that a pretty successful arrival story. AND the people (person) I've met so far is lovely. Hope everyone else will be!

[ablondeabroadblog]

Dangerously blonde.

I’ve managed to find myself in quite a hairy situation already. Despite years of experience with strange people pretending they’re raising money for a charity, I actually began filling in his form. So excited was he that he kissed my cheek and put his arm on me. Creeped out? Yes. Alarm bells ringing? Mine weren’t. So as I filled in his form a man in a dark coat began to sidle over looking a little fish. Trusting, I got my purse out to give the little man some money for his deaf/dumb charity. At which point the other man made an incomprehensible noise. I figured that must be the signal for mug her! So I put my purse away. Giving up, the other man walked away so I got my purse back out for the charitable donation. The suspicious looking man turned back around and finally explained to me that he’s a policeman and I shouldn’t give the man money for his fake charity. At this, the deaf/dumb man was miraculously healed and told the policeman what he thought of him. I walked away, un-robbed but feeling extremely gullible.