The sun was beaming upon the Parc du Thabor one beautiful spring day, blessing the fully-blossomed leaves of the birch trees with colour while the light breeze tickled them as it danced past. I was perched at my favourite spot in the park where I had spent many a beautiful sunny day, right in the middle of the smooth emerald field surrounded by my friends from many nations and dialects, conversing in their strange languages and laughing ceaselessly. We were all savouring the smooth distinctive taste of ice-cold Belgian beer while I relaxed on my brand new iPad, aiming the yellow bird directly for the bottom of the evil green pigs' structure. That should get rid of a few of the critters.
Then it was the turn of that annoying green bird that decides to boomerang in the opposite direction when tapped. I aimed and fired. The green bird opened its large beak and bellowed a horrible noise, a dissonant melody that rang through my ears and pierced my soul. It sounded familiar. Too familiar.... oh no.
The Blackberry continued to sing its horrible melody, bringing me back to my lonely and iPadless reality. I rolled over and glanced at the clock - 7.15. It was too early. Way too early...
Nevertheless after snoozing for twenty minutes I forced myself out of bed and left my apartment at 8, ambling to the bus stop. Today I was to take a bus to the metro, then a metro to the train station, and then another bus from the train station to this random place on the other side of Rennes. Why was I making such a pilgrimage? Simple - I have a job.
That's right, this lazy Erasmus student has got himself a full-time job in the very city where he had just spent the best year of his life, and developed an unfortunate habit of referring to himself in the third person. It is a new chapter in my Erasmus tale, which explains the horrifyingly Twilight-esque title. Don't worry though - there's no gay vampires, sullen bucktoothed boring girls or exhibitionist werewolves in this blog, and there NEVER will be!
How did it feel for me that morning? Well first I was upset that I had not actually somehow acquired an iPad, and secondly the Rennes I traveled through just was not the same. Being a bit of a geek, the first allegory that springs to mind to compare it with is from Legend of Zelda: the Ocarina of Time. If you have played that masterpiece you would know that Link ends up asleep for 7 years (I slept for sixteen hours Monday night and I thought that was fucked up!) and when he renters the wonderful world of Hyrule the people he knew were no longer there. The Sun was nowhere to be seen, restrained by dark clouds that imposed a forbearing mood upon their victims, and zombies were shuffling around the marketplace, I assume trying to find the best place to get some porn, while those who remained were cowering from these sex-addicted cadavres.
Rennes, my friends, is nothing like that, yet everything like that. Most of my friends have gone, retreating back to their home countries or continuing their adventures traveling the continent and savouring each day. Those of us who are left are divided into two groups: those who have stayed to do the Admissibles job at the school until July, and those of us who will leave this weekend.
It has been a tough tough couple of weeks full of tears, laughs, nostalgia and goodbyes, but my Erasmus year as student at ESC Rennes is now over, and I have to come to terms with this, despite my protests. Without the vibrancy of a diverse student presence Rennes just feels like a desolate shadow compared to the life that filled it merely a month ago. I realise it was not the location at all that made my Erasmus - Rennes is awfully average - but the people who lived there.
Many more friends and acquaintances are partaking in the exodus every day, starting their amazing summer plans to continue on their quests for world domination through internships or whatever. It hurts to be still in Rennes, as many students who are doing the Admissibles job are currently traveling and doing other things that I cannot afford to.
However, it could be worse - I could be doing nothing in Wales instead. I realise maybe this is the reason I love it here so much and do not want to leave: because unlike friends such as Matt, Itzel and Rob who have returned to their enjoyable lives full of action and excitement in their home countries, I do not feel like I will do the same when I go home, and it is probably that fear of returning to the anti-climatic normality of Newport life which is keeping me here in France for longer than what is normal.
So I got myself a job for the rest of the month. For the very first time during my Erasmus year, I am wishing my life away. It is horrible to admit, but I already cannot wait for the end of this job, and to start the Admissibles job with everyone else, where we welcome French students who are doing yet more painful competitive exams for entry to these less-than-impressive Grandes Ecoles that are held with such high regard in France for some reason, and try to convince them to join ESC Rennes over schools such as HEC in Paris (like hell!) through catering, entertainment and parties. It will be a fun way to make some money anyway.
This current job, on the other hand, is better paid but not much fun at all, for it is telesales. Yes, I am cold calling. For those who do not know what cold calling is, let us consult the Olford Concise Dictionary (ironically titled because you know I don't do concise).
Cold calling v. To call someone you do not know, using the means of a telephone or knocking on their door, without their prior knowledge of your existence or permission for you to make such a call, usually to sell them something. This approach obviously has a low success rate, and for someone to spend eight hours a day doing it would be demotivating, painful, and make them want to repeatedly bang their head against a wall. I would not want to be that sucker. Oh wait, I am that sucker.
Why am I putting myself through such torture? Two reasons. Well, one really: money. To keep my parents off my case about my lack of it (and my incontrovertible inability to save) and to stubbornly keep my Erasmus life alive through traveling to see the friends I have made in their home countries, and it is this carrot rather than avoiding the stick with which my parents are continuously prodding me over each Skype conversation that is getting me through each day (I've done three days out of eighteen. FML.)
When I say goodbye to each friend as they prepare to leave, you can imagine what the goodbye words would be, even if you haven't been on Erasmus yourself.
"Au revoir! It's not goodbye - it's see you later."
"You HAVE to come to (insert home country here)" - what everyone else says
"I should be in London in a year, so then you'd have somewhere interesting to visit" - what I say
"I can't wait to see where we all are in five years time!" - probably depressed because I couldn't leave Wales...
"Stay in touch! Facebook, Skype, letters, telepathy, pay a hobo to let us write on him and send him across the Atlantic via FedEx. WHATEVER! STAY IN TOUCH!".
"Do you have LinkedIn? I want to use your success in the future" - NOT NOW Employable Ollie!
"We should get married!" - this crazy girl that I met once at a house party....
So as you can see, the recurring theme here is about traveling to visit each other and keeping in touch. But let's be honest - how many people who have invited me to their home countries will I actually get to see again? Probably very few. So far I've had invitations to, among others: Ireland, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Germany, Belgium, Mexico, Ecuador, Peru, Egypt and Russia. I haven't even visited Cam, my best mate from Warwick, yet in Hong Kong! When I become a multimillionaire author with the publication of my memoirs about how I beat a crocodile to death with a rubber duck, called Scales and Ails, then I will be able to afford this round trip of the world, but for now - I'll have to make do with a smaller travel fund, funded by this job.
I guess I'll be able to blab and say it's an internship to keep the bigshot companies happy, but at the end of the day it is just a part-time job with too many hours to fund my travel to see my friends from all over the world, whom I miss dearly and think about every day. Thanks guys for everything this year! You have been INCREDIBLE! (Expect another tribute post soon!)
But I need to keep myself sane this month too. That's why I'm writing this update in a café in Paris, where I am staying this weekend with my dear friend Cam (who if you remember was with me in Rennes last semester before fucking off to get a mind-numbingly dull six month internship in the French capital). I have had a blast here this weekend, and will update again tomorrow outlining the details of this weekend.
But for now, May - hurry the fuck up and finish already!
Rant over
Ollie
