I’ve been really lazy with writing recently, and I apologise.  Even if Sam says no-one reads this, I am sorry to myself because this is a great way for me to remember the small details of my foreign forays which can so often be forgotten.  I used to do week-by-week recaps, and, if I find the time again, I might restart.  But in order to get myself, and hopefully a reader or two, up to speed with where I’m at, I’m going to do a broad sweep if the month of November.
November was another fun-filled month, well, for the most part. Â I had just returned from our two week half-term holiday and was ready to delve deeper into France and her culture.
I arrived back in Perpignan just in time to celebrate Halloween with my fellow language assistants.  None of us had thought of really making an effort as Halloween isn’t traditionally celebrated here, but we cobbled together some last minute costumes (and home-made fake blood) in order to go out.  During the day of Halloween there were many little kids dressed up, and most of the shop-keepers (especially the quirky geeky shops) had also donned costumes.  Where they got them from is anybody’s guess, as I hadn’t seen a single one for sale in the city.  In the club that evening, there were a few costumed Frenchies (not as many as you’d see here) and the DJ got into the spirit of the holiday by playing classics such as Thriller and Time Warp.
Somehow managed to make my mum believe this was a real cut…
Somehow managed to make my mum believe this was a real cut…
 A few days later, Milli, Christophe and I got around to finally visiting one of the historical landmarks of Perpignan – le palais des rois de Majorque.  Perpignan was one of the central points of the Majorcan kingdom and during the 13th century this Gothic castle was one of the main points of defence.  It sits on top a large hill, and from it you have the flat land stretched out below all the way to the sea in one direction and the Pyrenées in the other.  On top of the castle it’s not difficult to see its strategic placement.  Nowadays, it is just an historical landmark but the views are still remarkable.  You can clearly see the historical and newer parts of the city based on their roof designs and the way the streets are laid out.  If you are ever in Perpi, be sure to check it out.
 Saturday 7th of November and the weather was still beautiful.  One of Christophe’s and one of Alex’s friends were visiting so we decided to head down to Canet Sud to soak up some autumnal rays and have a picnic on the beach.  During high season, Canet is a very busy beach resort and even has a reputation for being a good club resort.  Out of season however, you won’t find much.  Just a quiet beach.  I love being next to the sea, there is something so calming about it.  That was one of my favourite parts about Barcelona – one one side you have a bustling metropolis and on the other, access to the beach (or easy transport to quieter ones during summer).
 Remembrance Day is a public holiday in France.  For me, this didn’t mean much as I had the day off regardless, but it meant that suddenly all of my assistant friends were also off school.  The weather was still gorgeous, so we decided to head to the Parc de Sports for a walk, a picnic and a kick-about.  We had a very relaxed day lying out in the sun.  I even had the chance to Facetime some family in Scotland where the rain was lashing down.  Ah, to be young and in foreign climes!  C’est la vie!
Jumping forward to the following weekend, and we were all geared up for a good Friday night out.  If I remember correctly, it was only Milli and I who headed out with the other assistants as the boys were both away, and Taylor was out with some Frenchies.  We headed to the ERASMUS bar in the centre and everyone was having a good time socialising.  It was only when I checked my phone to add people to Facebook did we realise something had happened in Paris.  It was such a surreal experience, especially since none of the French people who were out seemed bothered by the attacks – at least not enough – whilst us foreigners were all a bit shaken.  We watched the news come rolling in through social media, horrified that something like this could happen in the country we were living in.  It was a horrible feeling, like a punch to the gut, especially as most of us had been to Paris only days and weeks before.  We arrived home and felt numb for the rest of the night.
Flowers against guns, hope against terror.
The following morning, we were all still in shock from the attacks, and we spent the morning watching the gruelling footage on the news.  We had found out that our landlady’s son had been in the stadium in Paris at the football match.  We ventured out into the city centre, probably one of the furthest away from Paris whilst still being in France, for some air and to see what was happening.  The geographical location of Perpignan, just across the Spanish border, meant that for years it has been the first (and last) stop for many migrants, refugees etc.  This has given rise to a very diverse population, including sizeable Arabic and Muslim minorities, and there are various neighbourhoods where it is simply too dangerous for an outsider to walk through, including one which is apparently blacklisted by the British Government (I live next to it – Quartier Saint Jacques, my house is just two streets over).  We normally see a decent police presence, especially on weekends and religious festivals, but after the attacks the streets were full of cops on patrol with guns.  Scary and reassuring.
Memorial for those killed in Paris at the Castillet.
 The atmosphere in the city was so tense over the following weeks.  There were reports of whole areas of the city being raided.  Again, the location of Perpignan means that it is perfect for those trying to cross the border out of France, or who are coming up from Spain.  Although we heard rumours of people being arrested, and stashes of weapons being found, according to this newspaper article, despite the searches being carried out thoroughly, nothing had yet been found.  There were other measures brought in which made it difficult for things to feel normal.  If we wanted to enter the supermarket – Monoprix – and had a bag or a big coat we would have to be searched.  Schools became stricter with security, so that where I used to just be able to walk straight into the staff room, there were now people standing at the gates to check ID.  The borders were also closed, which meant that crossing into Spain became a bit of a logistical nightmare as queues on the roads were long due to the searches.
Thankfully, now, two months after the fact, things are returning to normal, although people are very much on high alert.  Also, a worrying wave of far right wing politics has gained more ground.  Front Nationale won more votes than ever before, and Perpignan – where there is high unemployment amongst all races, high immigration and successful non-Caucasian populations, as well as a very disaffected youth population – is where they saw their highest victory margin.  Think of the areas and backgrounds where parties like UKIP and the BNP win a lot of votes, and you’ll get a picture of the political situation in Perpi.
After that stressful weekend, I was looking forward to getting into school for a bit of routine/normality.  I was feeling lazy, so instead of taking the 45 minute train and walking 30 minutes to school and having to wait for an hour for class to start, I decided that I’d take the 1h30 bus which involves only a 10 minute walk and would allow me to arrive almost bang on time.  Normally, the bus makes three stops in Prades, with the final one located at the top of the road where the school is.  However, for whatever reason, the driver decided that Prades was not due a visit from the bus that day, and where he should have carried straight on, he turned left.  As soon as I realised that I was not going to be able to get off where I needed to, I rang the bell.  The driver carried on his merry way, all the way to Ria.  Here I was, stuck, a mile and a half from school, with no option but to walk along the side of the highway or hitch-hike.  I, of course, chose option A.  What a disaster!  I was happy to get home and crawl into bed, closing down a miserable day.
Great views make the pain worthwhile!
The following day was a lot better!  I had started by new timetable where I work either a Tuesday or a Wednesday, and had the Tuesday off.  I decided to dive back into studying French grammar and spent the day pouring over my books.  Luckily, Alex also had the day off and he decided to play Sims 4 all day long on my computer.  He created a version of our house and our flatmates, which led to all sorts of strange sentences throughout the day, especially since he made one of the girls a bin-raiding food monster.  This also led to the Sims 4 becoming an intrinsic part of our evenings for the next few days.
One of our friends, who doesn’t live in this house, is a fabulous cook, and he decided we should have a dinner party on the Friday night.  He had been itching to use our oven as he doesn’t have one where he stays.  In the end there were only four of us because everyone was off travelling.  Our landlady thought it was hilarious that Taylor and I could sit and drink whilst the two boys were stuck in the kitchen.  The world truly is changing was what she kept repeating.  The fact that neither Taylor nor I harbour any ambitions to be the next Jamie Oliver didn’t really cross her mind.  Hugh had named Alex his sous-chef/maître d, a role which Alex threw himself into with some vigour.  He banned Taylor and I from entering the kitchen until the cooking was all done, and made us wait in the hall until the food was on the table.  He also made us get changed into clothes suitable for his “restaurant”…
Our dinner was really good, and we spent the rest of the evening drinking everything we had in the house until we gave up and headed into the centre-ville to a bar.  Here we bumped into Rosie and some of her more “interesting” flat-mates.  The rest of the night passed without much incident though, and it was a time of much bonding between the flatmates who were here.  I’m sure I remember a group hug at some point after we arrived home.  And someone blaming the, perfectly innocent, goat’s cheese for making him vomit…
We didn’t have much time to feel sorry for ourselves the next day, as we were roped into helping decorate the hall for our landlady’s birthday party/concert.  The theme was “Catalan”, so everything in the room was red and yellow, and we all had to wear something “typically Catalan.”  We spent all day blowing up balloons and setting tables, before heading to the little Catalan shop – Visca! – to buy our apparel.  Because the price of everything in that shop is super cher we all just ended up with pin badges.  We also all had to bring an example of Catalan food or drink with us.  I ended up making a version of patatas bravas but seriously underestimated the amount of potatoes I should’ve used (I did peel and cook 3kg of them) but at least the sauce was nice!  Jordi brought Spanish tortilla and there were plenty of cured meats to go around.
I don’t have any pics from the party, but this is my Perpi family
One of Isabelle’s son’s friends – Nelson – was the main musical act of the evening.  He sang songs in five different languages – French, English, Spanish, Catalan and Occitan – throughout the night.  After this mini-concert, two of Isabelle’s friends started an impromptu jam session and our resident cellist stole the show.  There was also an attempt to dance a Sardana, which did not go well…
Jump forward a couple of days, and as the weather worsened (we had a few days of rain, shock horror), the winter holidays approached.  The final week in November became a week full of “big dinners” – when we eat with everyone in the house, and other large group meals.  Firstly, to say good-bye to Isabelle’s son who had been visiting, we had a house meal.  Secondly, we had decided in our house (along with Hugh, Edith and Rosie who basically live here anyway) to do a Secret Santa.  This presented us with an opportunity to get dressed up and cook a fancy meal.  Thirdly, it was Thanksgiving in the US, and as we live with a few Americans we had to celebrate – we went out for burgers on the Thursday, and then one of the American girls was having a “pot-luck” dinner on the Saturday night at her house.  We spent the whole of the Friday night before baking chocolate chip cookies and began watching Christmas movies to get into the spirit of the occasion.  The Thanksgiving pot-luck was really good fun, and there were people of 12 nationalities there.  I even, finally, got to meet the other Scottish girl who lives here.
Not quite a turkey, but it’ll do
12 nationalities in one room
And then that was that. Â November was over, and there were only 17 days before I flew home for Christmas!
        November in Perpignan: Catalan birthday, terrorist threats, dinner parties and American Thanksgiving celebrations I've been really lazy with writing recently, and I apologise.  Even if Sam says no-one reads this, I am sorry to myself because this is a great way for me to remember the small details of my foreign forays which can so often be forgotten. Â
