I take it back. Everything's great!

You're probably thinking "Not again! Already?! This guy's spending so much time writing his blog that there'll be nothing for him to write about, apart from the process of writing a blog." Although you're really probably thinking "I'm hungry - where's my chef/mother?" Well you're wrong, Phillip! You're wrong. Your mum is not your chef - she is so much more (Trust me, I know) and I actually am just writing a quick update because I feel bad for putting you all through such negativity yesterday.

Okay for those of you who haven't yet read yesterday's post, just read it. I cba (or as the French would say, six billets) to explain it again. Oh don't look at me like that. Please. Stop. You're making me feel bad. No, don't cry. Come on! You want a tissue? Okay, I'll explain God dammit!

Basically I explained yesterday (with far more flair) that the only thing actually worrying me at the moment is dealing with French people, including their language. I also mentioned that I was about to go to this 'buddy party' where we meet our French 'buddies' through playing games against other teams. The first game for me was juggling, and the other games seemed naff as well.

But it wasn't what I expected. It was worse.

When I eventually found my two French buddies, Emilie and Lucile, there was only one other girl there, a Chinese girl who apparently was studying English language and literature in China and had come to do business at the ESC. I felt sorry for the two French buddies, because they were volunteering to help us, so I tried to speak to them in French, but then I realised I was cutting out the chinese girl. I apologised in English, but she didn't seem to understand that either. If only I knew Mandarin...

There was supposed to be a group of 6, plus the two buddies. But that was it - just us four. As the only guy in the team, I was obliged to do the juggling. It wasn't juggling circus-style. It was worse, way worse. Football kick-ups.

I can't do football kick-ups. Plus I was dressed in a shirt and jeans ready to go out later (and dressed to give myself an excuse for being atrocious at sport). I tried to politely refuse, but the French guy in charge insisted, and I kept the ball up for three kicks before it escaped my feet and narrowly missed an innocent bystander. Because I lost to whoever I was competing against, I was graciously given a score of 0.

Next was the weight-hold-thing. We had to stretch our arm and hold a 4kg weight for longer than the guy next to us. I was feeling a little temerarious, having dabbled in a bit of weight-training in the past. So I challenged my Azerbijianian mate Orkhan to a contest of strength. He won, of course. But I did suspend it for about 2 minutes (I think) so I'm happy with that. So yep, another piece of paper with a 0.

I wasn't there to win, I was there to meet French people. And after changing my 0s to the max score of 8 and showing everyone (If you're gonna lose, lose while laughing!) I went for the buffet, and tried some baguette filled with what looked like the love-child of jam and tuna. Emilie told me that they were eating outside, so I joined them.

The chinese girl was nowhere to be seen, but I had joined a group of French people. Jackpot! I introduced myself and started chatting in French with them, and they were really nice! They then invited me to go back to someone's flat and get some pizza. I wasn't up for the pizza, because my stomach was playing up again (I don't think my stomach is used to speaking two languages) but to hanging out with genuine French people, I said 'pourquoi pas!' 

Okay, there was a reason not to - I had agreed to go with my international friends to the Irish bar, but I quickly found them, told them I'd meet them there, and off I went, in one of their cars.

We were waiting at the pizzeria and chatting in French when Cam, Frieddie and Rob (our Cypriot compadré) passed us on the way to Frieddie's and were surprised to see me with French people. I told them I'd meet them at the Irish bar, and they moved on.

You can probably see where this is going. I didn't meet them at the Irish bar. I stayed at a flat somewhere north of where I live, hardly speaking a word of English, for about 4 hours. I met some lovely people, tried a mélange of some mur liqueur and white wine. Some more French guys arrived, clearly the lads, and introduced themselves to me, giving me a Heineken. (I'm glad the Belgians weren't there to see me drink it).

I told them I was Welsh, taught them a little bit of Welsh, helped them with their English, chatted a bit about the rugby world cup, and learned some cool lines, including 'le pays de Galles est là?' meaning 'is the Welsh guy partying tonight?', and, upon leaving to go to the Irish bar, one of the French guys told me about one of the girls: 'elle a un fleur pour toi'. He then proceeded to teach me a French chat-up line, which I found hilarious. It goes 'On boit, ou on bise. Personellement, je n'ai pas soif'. You can Google Translate those yourself....

But basically, yeah, last night was great! I got to the Irish bar and only found a few friends, who were going to l'Espace (free entry with a drink again). I tried to get a drink but was too late, and I wasn't going to pay 14€ for entry. And I didn't want to deal with those bouncers again, so Francois, a new French friend who took me there, kindly took me back home.

So last night was a complete success. I now know some French people, who were impressed with my French. I am now at level 8 of the France Integration Scale, without smoking a single cigarette! My French should improve quickly now I know some French people - I knew it wouldn't be impossible! So now, everything's great :D (apart from my poor Kindle).

I'd like to admit that it's thanks to Frieddie, who persuaded me to go last night, despite my doubts, but I shouldn't, because she will NOT let it go. Instead, I'd like to thank Danny Wallace, who wrote Yes Man. Remembering that great book helped me decide to go, because saying 'yes' to new opportunities can open the doors so many new possibilities - as I found out for myself, last night.

I am now back on the path to becoming bilingual. Thanks Danny Wallace (not Frieddie).

Rant over
Ollie

Everything's great, except the French

That was the morning after my 21st. Trust me, the room was far messier than it appears on the video.You were probably distracted by a different mess - did you see Cam? Passed out on an air bed at 9am the morning after a late night out? Embarrassing....

The birthday night was great to start with. I had about 20 people in my appartment for pre-drinks. It was a Twins party, where you were supposed to dress the same as someone else, but we just got a group together to wear checkered shirts and fake moustaches drawn with eyeliner on our faces - it was the first thing that came to us! It hit me at that 'party' how well I have done integrating in the local culture, with not a single French person in the room. There were Germans, Mexicans, Finnish, Belgians, Dutch, Russians, Ecuadorians.... At the moment I'm more likely to return to the UK fluent in Spanish than in French!

 

 Okay, I haven't made much of an effort so far with regards to meeting French people, but it's not very easy at all! Even the French in my classes stick to themselves, and struggle to integrate. Ah well, I guess I'm still on level 5 on the France Integration Scale (see below), but I know something I've always been good at (something I'm going to use when bullshitting my way through internship interviews) is bringing people together. It's not beyond me.

I wanna learn the ways of the Frog and become a Francophone like my father.

The Ollieficial France Integration Scale
  
Level 1 - settle in your appartment/flat/prison cell (Chris)
Level 2 - make conversation with someone you don't know
Level 3 - add fellow international students on Facebook
Level 4 - know fellow international students well enough to invite them to your birthday bash
Level 5 - know fellow international students well enough to go to Disneyland with them this Sunday
Level 6 - make conversation with the French (in English)
Level 7 - befriend 10 French people on Facebook
Level 8 - make conversation with the French (in French)
Level 9 - know French students well enough to go to Amsterdam with them next month.
Level 10 - start chain smoking
Level 11 - stop finding pain au chocolat grotesque
Level 12 - stop finding steak tata grotesque
Level 13 - start hating your fellow Brits
Level 14 - ostracise yourself from fellow international students
Level 15 - not only are you now fluent in French, you ARE French!


Despite not speaking much French (it's mostly been Facebook conversations with Frieddie), I have learned a new phrase this week - les videurs français sont salauds. On the night of my birthday, after downing five vodka shots in a row, I finally became a teeny bit drunk. I heard that my friend Itzel had hurt herself and was outside wondering where I was. As I went outside, the bouncers forced me back in (physically of course - those dumb fuckers wouldn't be able to outwit me no matter my level of drunkenness!) despite my protests in French that my friend had hurt herself. I swore loudly in English, and two bouncers grabbed my arms and dragged me out, while I was shouting 'Ma copine s'a fait mal! Je ne suis pas bourré! Je ne veux pas dire mal! C'EST MON ANNIVERSAIRE'. The bastards ignored me and pushed me out. That was it. All my friends were inside, Itzel was nowhere to be seen, and I was stuck in the centre of Rennes at 2am, drunk and alone.

Fortunately, I spotted my next door neighbour, a Belgian dude called Mattias, who was with his friend trying to get in, but couldn't. His French is better than mine, and he talked to a bouncer who would listen, explaining my situation. Luckily, I was allowed back in, but when I got back I just didn't feel up for it. The way those bouncers had treated me put a downer on my night, and I was too drunk. Cam found me and we then found our way back to the flat, with the help of a stranger on the street.

I went to town on Saturday for a drink at the bar, after a day checking out St Malo. At the bar, the drinks came with free entries to the club that I went to last Wednesday (called L'Espace), so we headed there in our international group. But the bouncer asked us to move aside, not giving a reason. When I demanded one, he said we were too drunk. I had drunk 2 pints of Leffe, slowly. I was perfectly sober, and so was everyone else by the time we had walked to the club.

We asked for a real reason, but were denied one. The guy couldn't speak English, and clearly had no intention to. My conclusion? He was a racist who didn't feel like letting in foreigners tonight. I heard that pints were 9€ each inside though - so maybe it was a saving grace! The following day, Frieddie told me that this was normal in Europe where bouncers can reject whoever they want. Of course, I think this is bullshit! I'm not having my night determined for me by some big dumb brute! Obviously, I'm taking my business elsewhere.

So it seems the French themselves are the only thing ruining my experience here in France! I've only been here for two and a half weeks, but I already love the European culture. I've already been looking at masters courses in Europe (not France of course), I'm that keen/sad!

The title of this blog was said by my friend, Matthew - the only British guy I've met here. He was also furious on Saturday night, and took a photo of the bouncer to use if we can try and take him down with the ancient martial art of emaildo. The title is a double-entendre, because I am complaining about both French people and their language - I just can't speak it!

French classes started this week, and there are 12 levels, level 12 being virtually fluent, level 1 being for those who just wrote their names on the placement paper and ran for it. To my complete and utter surprise, I have been put in level 11, with the International Business students from Warwick. It has been two and a half years since I have had a French lesson, so I was chuffed!

But then classes started.

First it was French culture, which was taught in French. Talk about jumping in the deep end - I did it with a 20kg weight in my arms! We were taught by Bilbo Baggins, who looked like a typical professor with crazy grey hair, looking very happy. I noticed a ring on his hand - he clearly won over Gollum with his charm. He said that 50% of Finnish people think he's crazy, the other half think he's drunk. Obviously I struggled, but I think I can answer the questions in English if I so desire, and some of the text was in English - so it wasn't too bad. I may not fail that course.

Then it was French language - another 3 hours of Frogspeak, and this time - I had to participate. In French. Not a word of English was spoken in that room, and the topic was about the economic crisis (as Enter Shikari would say: quelle fucking suprise). By the time it was my turn, I felt sick with worry. Everyone there was amazing - the words danced out of their mouths, filling the room with an air of brilliance, making me ever more nauseous. The russian girl next to me made a few grammatical errors, and was struggling to answer the teacher's questions. I was next. She was going to humiliate me. She was going to send me down to the easy classes, and I wouldn't achieve my goal of fluency. I needed air. I felt like I was going to hurl....

And then the teacher called for a ten minute break. I rushed to the toilets....

Back in class, I had to face the inevitable, but at least I had had some air. Slouching behind the people sitting in front of me, I had to describe a picture of a pile of 100€ notes with a belt tightly wrapped around it. I only just learned the word for 'belt' thanks to my friend having Google translate handy. I mumbled what I had written down (if I tried to ad lib, I'd be out of there), talking about how the belt around the 100€ notes signified the need to spend less, due to inflation rising at a faster rate than people's salaries, giving them less purchasing power (I remembered the phrase le pouvoir d'achat from my essay at school.) and blabbed a bit about Ireland, Greece etc. bringing down the Euro's value. Somehow, I survived. I think my knowledge of the term le pouvoir d'achat saved me for this week. However, the teacher was also really kind, and understanding when I explained my situation to her. But there will be a different teacher next week, and I'm worried about how understanding he will be.

To be honest, should I have expected any different? If I was going to be in a top class, then the level was always going to be high. Maybe it was the shock of going from near the top of the class at school straight to the bottom here. But I know I need to stay in this class - this should greatly help my fluency, if I can survive for a whole year, that is.


All I know is - I'm not going to join any sports or societies just yet. (They want you to have a doctor's note to prove you're fit enough to do sport! Talk about overbureaucracy!)

Frieddie just pointed out to me that I'm not as positive today as I was these past couple of weeks. I think reality is settling in and the novelty is wearing off. It was the same at Warwick - and thats what's vexing me more than anything else. I don't want to leave Rennes feeling the same way as when I left Warwick. People are already dropping out, so it's clear I'm not the only one with fears at the moment.
But I'm going to stick this. This is probably the 'buyer's remorse' stage - it should get better again. It must get better again.

Tonight is the Buddy party, where we meet our French 'buddy' - so this should be a good way to integrate into French culture. However, I'm naturally sceptical. It is their job to be our 'buddy', not their choice. Furthermore, I saw the list of activities this morning, and my first activity will be jongles. You are fucking kidding me. JUGGLING?! I'm 21, man! Why the hell would I want to learn to control balls (not in that way) when I have a career to think of?! I saw the other activities, which include making paper aeroplanes - I did that in school anyway! Well I tried to, but I'm not very good at origami, so I just scrunched up some paper into a ball and threw it at someone. I never juggled them either. Three-legged races, drawing with the pen in your mouth, passing a ball.... no wonder I don't get on very well with the French, if that's what they call entertainment! Seriously, this looks like it's going to be a naff night, and I am very particular about people asking me to do things I am not comfortable doing (*cough*Cam*cough*AIESEC*cough*) unless it would be of some use to me. I do not feel like publicly demonstrating my lack of coordination, especially in front of strangers. I'll be remembered as 'le garçon spécial' or something. The French love their sport WAY too much, and I'll forever be their clown.

As you can see, I'm not very optimistic about tonight. But hey, I'm still going, because I was sceptical, even at 9, about the Harry Potter books. How wrong I was! Tonight might actually be mildly enjoyable/productive, and if it isn't, I'm going to the bar afterwards anyway.


 Everything else is great! I still have great friends (old and new), am in comfortable accommodation, and am enjoying the business courses here WAY more than I did at Warwick - I may actually do a Masters in my own subject (rather than converting)! I'm also going to Disneyland on Sunday with my new friends, which should be a great bonding sesh. The only thing getting me down is the French, which I should get used to soon (and my Kindle broke, and a new one is being mailed to my Welsh house, so I'm stuck with this crap PC to read books on, which dies after a mere 20 minutes without mains supply!) I'm also very tired, having had 18 hours of class this week already - class that I HAVE to attend. That + 8:15am starts = ouch time for Ollie. I overslept this morning and was half an hour late. Sure, I only missed introductions, and I didn't have to admit to everyone that I am as experienced with internships as Stephen Hawking is with the hurdles. Sure, I managed to redeem myself by volunteering to present about a company's distribution system, but that's not the point - I need to become a morning person, something I certainly am not!

France has not been good for my Coca-Cola addiction, either. This is the view from my bedroom window.

Yup, I'm still a Cocaholic, but don't worry - I'm on rehab.

Rant over
Ollie

21 - Great, no excuses now!

Woohoo it's my birthday! And I must say, it's the strangest birthday of my life so far. I am not at home in Wales with the comfort of my family, but in a foreign country where I have to put a French accent on a Big Mac.

I took my birthday cards with me from family and friends to check out today, and there were some lovely messages of support. Not to mention the centaine messages on my Facebook wall - it's nice to know I'm loved :)

But yeah , I'm 21. That means there's no excuses. As a kid, I always thought of a 20 year old and below as an older child. But 21? No, they're adults! They have careers, they have children! My parents got married at 21, and at the moment I'm lucky to get a hug! But yeah, this day and age is different. I'm still at 'school' learning how to become rich, and I am yet to get a proper job - but that's normal these days! My parents told me a month ago 'Oliver, you're nearly 21. You need to grow up - we got married at your age'.

Okay mum and dad. Yes at 21 you did old people things. You got married, you already knew how to iron and how to play golf, and you were drinking wine not for the purpose of getting drunk. You were the embodiment of precocious adulthood, but I am not!

I am going to learn to do those things at some point in my life I'm sure, but for now I'm going to be a typical student who drinks, has flings with Miss Overdraft, has fun whilst learning the business models and theories that will have no relevance in my future career, but will somehow help me get a job. There are many years ahead of me to find love and become 'mature'. In the wise words of Blink 182 'no one should take themselves too seriously with many years ahead to fall in line'.

And now, I can have fun with the world being my bitch. There's nothing I can't do! I can adopt a child in the UK (God help little Pablo), supervise a learner driver (I'm sure my brother, Sam would love that!) and of course, drink and gamble in the US. I'm thinking Vegas this summer - you only live once! :D

Quick update on Rennes - the classes are really good so far (better than at Warwick, methinks). The International Human Resource Management teacher's English is very poor - I may offer to proof-read his materials (for a fee of course!) but the course is good. I've always liked the organisational psychology courses - they're the least soul-destroying. We're also doing Project Management and Entrepreneurship and Small Business Management, both taught by an English dude who is also an experienced consultant. I asked him for tips yesterday on getting consulting internships - should come in handy! There's group work in all of the classes so far, and I'm always first-pick to form a group with, which is great! After all those years of being last picked for the football teams (I mean come on - they even preffered the fat guys to me! I'm actually pretty good at defending thank you very much!) I am finally el capitán! I may not be the greatest at kicking a ball, but I can participate in a kick-ass business team - and I think we all know what is more important! (Notice I said important, not lucrative....)


But then I realised it's not really for my natural leadership and charisma, charm, my knowledge of useless HR models, or my charms. It's because I'm the only native English speaker on the course. Ah well, I'm still counting it! 


Okay gotta dash - going for a meal with some new friends (as well as Cam, Chris and Freddie) and then we're going to the Twins party tonight, where you dress identically with someone else. I'm trying to do quadruplets with Cam, Chris and Matt, the English guy who lives with me in our block of apartments. But hey, see how it goes! I might miss tomorrow's class at 8:15 - it's going to be messy tonight! 


Speak soon!
Ollie

Week 1: Full of lessons!

Wow what a week! I don't know where to begin, so much has happened this week - it's been the most eventful week since the beginning of Warwick two years ago, but despite being surrounded by French people armed with a language they are happy to rapidly fire at me until I submit, I feel far more comfortable this time.

Maybe it's because I know what to expect this time, and I am fully aware of the (many) mistakes I made in the first two years. Indeed, my French is nothing like the standard to communicate properly with the natives, but I'm learning the language at a faster rate than I ever have before, and I've learnt a fair amount in a few days - imagine what I'll be like in a few months! So I'm not worried.

The weekend began with an incredibly early start - my father and I were up at 2:15am to leave for Poole, which turned out to be an annoying journey with windy roads. We turned one corner and drove straight, at the national speed limit of 60 mph, in the darkness that enshrouded the early hours of the morning. Suddenly, the headlights cast their malicious glare onto a beautiful white owl that had decided to chill on the main road out of Warminster. Hedwig's head turned around, her eyes widening with trepidation as my dad's foot hit the brake.

But it was too late. We killed Hedwig.

After spending ten minutes consoling my dad, telling him that there was nothing he could have done (it was our right of way after all) we continued to travel in high spirits, excited for my adventures. We stopped for a breakfast in Maccy Ds in Poole. We met Cam on the ferry, got to France and unpacked at my flat, after checking in with a very cute receptionist. Then we went for walks to ESC Rennes and to Cam's place at Top Campus, so I could learn the routes. We finished with a creperie, for which I wasn't too excited. I don't like French pastries. They're as ostentatiously and hyberbolically sweet as the High School Musical films, and, like the films, they make me want to puke. I had classified crepes as one of these must-avoid foods.

However, we tried savoury crepes (they're called gallettes) and I, thinking 'when in Rome', tried the crepe they called Le Rennais (okay I really tried it because it didn't have mushrooms in it, but hey), which was filled with steak haché, crême fraiche and emmental, and it was divine! The following day Chris joined us and we explored for a bit before my dad left us in Rennes centre to catch the ferry back home. There, we met up with Freddie, and the four Warwickers went for a few drinks together, and so the story begins!

As you could imagine, this will be my longest post yet, so I shall summarise the week through the lessons I've learnt - that would be best!

1. The French expect us to be better organised than they are
2. There's actually NO point in getting a French accent
3. Minimise alcohol spending in bars
4. How to subsist without an oven or freezer
5. I'm entitled to a second degree

 1. THE FRENCH EXPECT US TO BE BETTER ORGANISED THAN THEY ARE

After getting up at 7am Monday morning (I know, it's early isn't it - like we're back at school or something!), Cam, Chris and I left my flat to go to ESC Rennes for the start of our orientation. When we got there, we saw all the other students. I couldn't talk to them - I was petrified! I knew what I had been like at Warwick, throwing myself into uni life, but as a result I had become a bit of a clown. I didn't want to do that again. I needed to learn from my mistakes at Warwick!
It was Cam who broke the ice by asking an asian guy to play pool with him (that's right Cam, go for your own kin) and after Chris and I watched Cam lose to this guy without saying a word of introduction to him, my companions had to both go to move into their own places, leaving me to awkwardly wait for something to happen.

It was a good job I had my Kindle. I sat on a sofa for a little while, pretending to read 'How to Win Friends and Influence People' (thought it would be apt), but actually wondering what we were supposed to be doing. We had confirmed we weren't in the group to do an IT class that morning, but wasn't there a welcome talk or something? They were supposed to be welcoming exchange students that day - where were all the formalities?

Then I noticed a large group of students walking towards the main lecture theatre, so I followed suit. As soon as I sat down among the group of 400 students I knew something was wrong. My classes are going to be in English, and there would be students here who don't know a word of French, so why was this dude babbling along in French at a speed I could not follow?! I asked the guy next to me 'parlez-vous anglais?' Obviously here I was ashamed of myself - I was becoming a typical British tourist who couldn't be bothered to speak in French, so made the French speak in English instead. But I was worried and confused, surrounded by strangers in another country. There would be time to practice my French later, like when asking for a coffee or something.

After finding out that the home students were also starting that day, and that I was at their induction talk, I inconspicuously snuck out of the lecture theatre. Or I would have, but I was sat in the middle so I had to walk straight up the stairs in the middle of the lecture theatre in full view of everyone there. Good start, Ollie!

I went to reception to ask what I was supposed to be doing. The receptionist had no clue (always a good sign) and reffered me to the Well'Come team, the group of students responsible for helping us exchange students settle in. After explaining what just happened, they laughed at me for going to the wrong lecture. If I didn't have a good sense of humour, I would have found that rather vexing. Surely the people responsible for helping us shouldn't be LAUGHING at us! Surely, that would be like going to Nightline (for the Warwickers) or a therapist and being laughed at?! It was clear to me that the French can't do PR. It's a good job I'm not studying HRM or marketing here, things that deal with people. Oh, wait.....

Funnily enough, my first bit of official school time was not a welcome lecture, but a language test, to test my French ability for the appropriate level. As it had no time limit, and focused not on speaking and listening, which I find far more difficult, but on reading, writing and grammar, I think I did fairly well. But knowing their organisational skills, they'll probably still put me in a class where I have to learn how to say 'please' and 'thank you'.

The following day, we Warwickers were meant to be doing the computer course, where they configured our PCs to their system (including giving us all a proxy to dodge a filter - I mean why have the filter if you're gonna give everyone the proxy for it?!). We were there at 8:30 and, after waiting for an hour, Freddie, taking the initiative German-style, went to ask what the fuck was going on. We were then told the schedule changed overnight and we weren't supposed to be there until 13:00. As you could guess, I was already shattered from information overload, and livid to have been denied a lie-in for nothing!

When the course finally started, it was unnecessarily long, starting with a video telling us how to create a strong password. Dude, we're the Facebook generation - it's us who should be teaching you! After suggestions such as 'use a different password for each account' and 'use symbols', the teacher then said 'just use the same password as you use for everything else. Oh, and you can't use symbols'. Towards the end, he pondered 'What have we got left? Oh yeah, just security and PDF converting'. I had been warned by someone who had already done the 'class' that the video was just stuff we knew about viruses and the need to get antivirus software. Again, of course I have antivirus! How else would you guys get to enjoy/endure this blog?! So, on my 1st class of the year for which I had planned to work hard, I decided to bail the last part, as the teacher called for a 10 minute break because HE needed a coffee.

So Cam and I, planning to skip the rest of class, went to the foyer to play some pool. When we got there, one of our classmates was already playing, against no other than our teacher! Naturally, we had to avoid him for the next ten minutes, so we walked about a bit, and went back 20 minutes later - and he was still there! He was keeping our classmates waiting for what apparently turned out to be 5 more minutes of teaching! I've seen this dude at the foyer every day since, playing pool. I even played against him on Friday! I think I've found my first billiards addict! He needs rehab because it's interrupting his job. Maybe a game of darts?

So anyway, we finally got our welcome talk, where they explained to us that we need to attend EVERY class and on time, when they start at 8:15am.

The talk itself started 10 minutes late....



2. THERE'S ACTUALLY NO POINT IN GETTING A FRENCH ACCENT

 That's right folks, I was wrong. While the French do try to switch to English when they detect my poor French accent, I have managed to give them a tug at the reins, and switch them back into their own language through continually firing French at them (well, by 'firing' I mean 'pausing and slowly forming together sentences whilst stopping mid-sentence to correct a poor verb conjugation or the wrong gender of a noun until I manage to get the message across'). Ollie 1, France 0.

Okay, you're probably thinking 'typical Brit in France, not wanting to integrate' but I have a BETTER reason for my stubbornness in not working on my French accent. No, it's not that I'm accent-deaf and wouldn't be able to anyway (although that is a very good reason!). No, it's not that they can understand me anyway as long as I know the language (which is also a good reason). It's one word: les filles (I'm not counting 'les' as a word - it's the definite article for the noun :P)

But anyway, I had heard it before from French guys in the UK, but I was naturally sceptical. French girls find it really cute when you speak to them in French but with a British accent. I have already been told by no fewer than three French girls, one being a professional who was selling me health insurance (she was unexpectedly flattered when I spoke to her in French, complementing her English!) To be fair, it makes sense. Nothing cuter than a French girl speaking English with their accent, so why can't it be the other way around? So stuff the French accent, I'm going to take advantage of my exoticness!

That's right - I'm fairly exotic here! I've actually met more Finnish people (about 12) than British (3, including myself and Chris). It's awesome, I can finally take advantage of being international! It also seems my personality works better over the English Channel. For some reason, people over here like me more - they UNDERSTAND me! Then again, it could be that everyone is friendly at the moment because we're all shit-scared and need to make new friends pronto. Only time will tell....



 3. MINIMISE ALCOHOL SPENDING IN BARS


You don't need to be Brian Cox to understand why I need to do this. In fact, you don't need to be Brian Cox at all, but that's not my point here. Drinks in France are bloody expensive! That first pint I had that Sunday evening when we were catching up with Freddie cost me 6€. Was it some fancy Belgian fruity beer like Laffe? Nope, it was a 'pint' of Heineken, and because the French use the metric system, their 'pint' is not the UK Royal Standard of 568ml, but merely 500ml. So I didn't even have a full pint, and I could get 30 250ml bottles of 33 Export in the supermarket for 7,80€!

The cheapest bars in Rennes lie on the same street, which they call La Rue de Soif (which means 'Thirst Street'). There, you could get shots and pints for 'only' 3€. Now, thanks to our good friends Germany, keeping the Euro expensive despite the best efforts of Greece and friends, each Euro cost me 92p, so I see the Euro as virtually on parity with the GBP. I wouldn't pay £3 for a shot in Britain, so why the hell were we buying rounds of flaming B52s like it was good value? They were fun though - layered shots of coffee liqueur, Baileys and Cointreau that are set on fire, and we drink them through straws before the alcohol burns out.

Now, I am well up for getting drunk on the odd occasion, but on my third night there, when I didn't know the area very well?! It wasn't the plan, trust me - I had only 2 shots and 2 pints, which normally would have left me still sober, bordering on tipsy. But I haven't drank properly since June, and was fairly drunk. It would be the perfect amount of drunk, but I was freaked out by not knowing my way home. So this blog post is a public broadcast to my Newport friends. Please guys, let's actually go out to town once in a while! Oh, and hurry up with passing your driving tests, I need to drink more!

I found myself in a Quick, the French version of Burger King, trying to order a cheeseburger in French whilst driving a bit too much attention to myself. My mates came in and told me that the word 'fuck' was universal, after my cursing my own inability to switch languages. To that I replied 'why does everyone know my fucking language?!' But it's okay kids, I got the burger, ate it, and it helped me sober up for the hour walk home.

So yeah, moral of the story: Buy your drinks from the hypermarket, not the bar.



4. HOW TO SUBSIST WITHOUT AN OVEN OR FREEZER

I'm paying 450€ a month rent, and while it's cool I get my own bathroom and kitchenette, the absence of a drawer for my freezer compartment is a piss-take for that money! And a microwave does not cook pizza! So, obviously I have been eating out a lot this week - that has been the expensive solution, but it has also let me get to know loads of different people over dinner. Soon, I will make a special post dedicated to the 'characters' of this epic adventure of mine, but for now, let me tell you that I've met a fair few characters! ESC Rennes is also so international, it makes Warwick look like a KKK conference. Like I said, British people are in the minority, and so far I have met, among others, French (duh!), Germans, Dutch, Belgians, Irish, Spanish, Mexicans, Americans, Canadians, and even people from Peru, Ecuador and Azerbijan! I feel so humbled, as a boy from the Valleys, to be so exposed to such an international network!


But yeah, as this week classes will begin, and my wallet tightens, I will have to go out less, and try to put up with wasting half a baguette each day, as I cannot freeze the toughening bastards.

And Pizza? Well, that can be my Christmas dinner when I get home.

But to be fair, I cannot complain about my flat, despite the boiler clicking and waking me up, while not actually working again. It seems to take weekends off, or maybe it has gone on strike, like a typical habitant of France! But yeah, I cannot complain, because at least it is comfortable and close to the business school, unlike Freddie's place, which is miles away, meaning she needs a car, and Chris's place.

What can I say about Chris's place? Well, when I saw it, I suggested that he mug someone and go to prison, because that would save him the 140€ a month he was paying and get him somewhere more comfortable to live! There is no light in his room, just a window that is too high for his small stature to look through. The four toilets he shares with 19 others have no seats, and the kitchen has two hobs between 20! I have that to myself! While part of me was like, 'I told you so! What did you expect for less than 5€ a day!' the other part of me wasn't such a dick. We sympathised with him and let him use our facilities, including the Internet to search for somewhere new to live. I think he's found somewhere now, with 2 girls - a Hungarian and a Norwegian.

I might swap with him.....


5. I'M ENTITLED TO A SECOND DEGREE
Finally, I shall finish by explaining that I found some interesting news - the work I shall be doing this year could qualify me for a double degree between Warwick and ESC Rennes. Unfortunately, it is not currently in the exchange agreement, and while the school is eager for me to do it (and so am I, because I will be rewarded for the crazy amount of work I'm doing this year - 8 classes per semester!) I'm pretty sure Warwick won't let me, because the ESC is not 'triple accredited' yet or whatever. Ah well, will have to see how it goes. Would be nice to be rewarded for my efforts, though, rather than a simple 'A year abroad increases your experience because it shows you can adapt to a different lifestyle and culture' or some other generic bullshit that I will use to justify my non-French studies here.


So, that's it for my first week, guys! If you're still reading this, congratulations! And thank you for sticking with me! If you've given up before getting this far, then fuck you. I doubt any future posts will be this long, but of course this should be the most important update of the entire blog. I am now in Rennes, and I am very happy indeed!

Anyway, my classes start early tomorrow morning, and I should be in bed. Bon nuit tout le monde!

Rant over
Ollie

PS. Here's some photos of  le Pad d'Ollie for you to enjoy!

Tomorrow's the big day!

Yes, that's right! For those of you wondering why I haven't written about my year abroad for a while, it's because I haven't started it yet, and I have other things happening in my life in good ol' little Wales.

But now, it's all going to be about the year abroad. Because tomorrow, at 3:30 in the morning, I leave for adventure in Brittany! So I'm going to write a quick post summarising my thoughts and feelings about going there. That's right kids, this is going to be an emo post.

I would make it REALLY emo, with some melodramatic music for you to read as I write this, such as Adagio in D Minor by John Murphy, but I appreciate that this trip is not a big deal for anyone else but me. But you can enjoy it anyway! Listening to this piece whilst doing something makes ANYTHING dramatic!

Seriously, tying up your shoe laces becomes a fight to protect your feet from malicious blisters, eating a sandwich becomes an explosion of flavour and subsistence, saving you from dying from starvation. Sending a text to a friend asking if they fancy a pint becomes 'I have life-changing news to share with you. The world may be bigger than we are, but we can still save it, one recycled Fosters can at a time'. I think you catch my drift.
But yeah, this imminent stay in France is a big deal for me. My gut feeling is that this is the year that will define the rest of my adulthood, and that's as melodramatic as that beautiful Murphy piece.

However, I also fear that I am over-hyping this year abroad (to be fair, you're probably thinking 'No shit! You just said you think it's going to change your life forever!'). Past experiences have told me not to over-hype events. The prom in my last year of school was supposed to be the biggest night EVER! I was thinking about it for no less than 8 months beforehand, and it turned out shit. To be fair, I did help to organise it, but that's not the point! It was so boring! Yay, we're in suits, and we look good! What now? Nothing. The food was overpriced, the music was standard dance shit, and I couldn't even get pissed because I was performing a few days later and needed my voice to be on top form. Overhyped = fail.


Living in Leamington last year - overhyped! Smack and Saints got boring after a few weeks, I had no money and the bus service to campus was crap. My business degree - overhyped! Christmas - overhyped! My A level results - overhyped! The birth of my first son - overhyped! If you build things up, they will only disappoint. That's the bad thing about having high expectations. If you meet them, there's no joy, just relief. If you don't meet them, then you'll be bitterly disappointed.

I don't want to overhype this year abroad. I know that some of it will disappoint, and there will be bits that suck (French administration, for example. Was a pain in the ass to get somewhere to live!) but it's a YEAR! There's got to be moments which will be just amazing!

So I shall have this attitude. As long as I do well in my classes, improve my French, and get some internship,development placement, or some kind of work experience for next summer, whether it's in France, England or even Wales, I will consider the year a success. I don't have to become a changed man brimming with confidence, although that would probably come from success in this year abroad anyway.

Of course I am nervous. The nerves only kicked in yesterday when it hit me that I shall be leaving tomorrow, after saying goodbye to all my welsh friends and wishing them the best until Christmas. I will miss them all, and I appreciate their great company this summer. Also, I want to wish the people I'm leaving behind at Warwick all the best for their final year - I will visit at some point. Finally, I hope those who are also travelling abroad have an amazing time as well. Yes, these are scary times, but they're also bloody exciting!

This will be slightly different from when I started at Warwick two years ago, because this time I already know a couple of people. Chris, Frederike and Cameron are also going to ESC Rennes, and even though we are not living together, we all get on very well. It also helps that Cam is one of my closest friends at uni, and he will be travelling with me and staying at my place for the first weekend, as his place will not be available til Monday (stupid French administration!).

I am determined to do well this year, and to prove that I can handle living in another country. But I am equally determined to enjoy myself, and be happy. I'm off for a few months, and hopefully I will return at Christmas more fulfilled. I aim to update this blog weekly, so you can follow me every step of the way :)


So, with that: au revoir le pays de Galles, à Noel! 

LET'S FUCKING DO THIS!

Ollie

e-book haters, respect our privacy!

A friend posted this article on Facebook not so long ago.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2011/aug/16/e-readers-make-reading-people-harder?CMP=twt_fd

It is an article taken from the Guardian, the newspaper that I probably respected the most. Until now.

If you cannot be bothered to read the article, it has been written by some stubborn woman with archaic views concerning the e-book. Apparently, she has searched for a good argument against e-books and in favour of their older, paper-based counterparts, and now she has found it. Drum roll please..... You can't tell what strangers are reading when they're reading a Kindle, meaning you can no longer judge them by what they read.

BOOM! That is genius! I'm going to contact Harvard Literary Review (or whatever the Shiterature journal equivalent of Harvard Business Review is) and inform them of your paper. In fact, I think this will get you a Nobel prize! A hard-earned million pounds there, because you have just made the Kindle totally obsolete with that killer argument.
As you said yourself, "case closed".

 
By the way, I was being a teeny bit sarcastic...


WHAT THE FUCK?! How is this complete and utter idiot writing for the Guardian? I know many people who can shit out more intelligent arguments than this fool, and SHE'S the one getting paid for this crap?! Oh no! Now I have a Kindle, complete strangers can no longer judge me by what I read! I am no longer vulnerable to others' scrutiny and bitching - what have I done?!! I can get away with reading self-help books on a train without strangers knowing that I am lacking in confidence - the audacity!!! People can now read erotica, or even ANYTHING THEY WANT TO in public - how dare they!

Now if someone wants to say "But Ollie, you could impress girls if you're seen reading Forbes magazine, and you're missing out by using your Kindle" then I'll respond with two things. 1) If people judge me by what I read before even talking to me, they're not worth a second of my time. 2) It surely makes me more mysterious, because people won't know what I'm reading, and it could facilitate a conversation starter (i.e. "Hey, what are you reading?")

The fact is, guys, that e-book devices are antiquating print books, as more advanced technology allows the reading devices to replicate paper on screen with e-ink particles. It is better ergonomically - I mean look at exhibit A, a nerdy kid at school who is struggling to carry his books due to playing Warhammer rather than going to the gym.

 But now, you can just store all that information on this, and there's no need to pump the iron and quit painting those figures or whatever Warhammer people do...

Not only that, but the Kindle can be used in one hand, so it's easier to read lying down, it downloads books in less than a minute, so you don't have to queue at WHSmith, and you can increase the size of the lettering, making reading glasses kinda obselete too.

Buying my Kindle inspired me to try reading again. The books I mentioned on yesterday's post were all read on my Kindle, not 'in the flesh'.

Kindles are awesome, and Amazon have sold more Kindle books this past fiscal year than paper-based books, showing their popularity in favour of their old-fashioned counterparts.

So yeah, that's basically it for today. Let e-book readers read what they want, and mind your own business. I don't think, somehow, that people will mourn not knowing what complete strangers are reading. If that's the best argument people have remaining against the e-book, then God help the  intelligence of our society.

Rant over
Ollie