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!
- The French expect us to be better organised than they are
- There's actually NO point in getting a French accent
- Minimise alcohol spending in bars
- How to subsist without an oven or freezer
- 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!
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