Professional Partygoers

The whole Restauration team! 

Readers, I am about to do something I have not done for a while. I am actually going to write an update on the CURRENT situation in Rennes, rather than events so long ago they may as well have been written in Shakespearian. 

I've probably mentioned this before, but I made the extremely difficult decision to stay in Rennes a couple of months longer to undertake a simple and relaxed work placement for a decent sum of money, further improving my French and spending time with some incredible Erasmus (and French!) people, rather than spend an extra couple of months alone in my Welsh abode wallowing in post-Erasmus depression. 

Nervous at the prospect of the new job?
Or just messing about?
You decide.....

Was it a good decision? Needless to say, oui. I am having a blast! You're probably thinking "How can anyone get so much fulfillment from WORK?!" ....................okay, you're ACTUALLY probably thinking "Why am I reading this shit when I could be watching the Euro 2012 game/latest 'Desperate Housewives' episode/porno instead?" but just go with me here. Pretty please?

The answer, my faithful reader with the former provocation, is that this 'work' is not really 'work', and that is why I enjoy it so much! No, I am not French or workshy (I may have insinuated that there should be an 'and' instead of an 'or' there....), I have merely learned a very important lesson this last month. An eleventh commandment, if you will:

Thou shalt NEVER work!

To me, the word 'work' suggests 'doing something one wouldn't normally want to do for compensation, monetary and/or otherwise'. That full-time cold calling job that I undertook was complete and utter WORK! I hated that shit from Day 1, and on Day 4 I had set myself a challenge to avoid getting fired. HOW DEMOTIVATING IS THAT?! There were no carrots to chase; not even the large sum of money I would earn for a summer of awesomeness would suffice as motivation. I was just trying to get through each day, one by one, call by call, inadvertent snooze by inadvertent snooze, without the humiliation and confidence knock that was the sack. 

I was successful a day later. I left on mutual agreement BOOM!

So we cannot put ourselves through unsatisfactory routines for the sake of money. I couldn't see that job through even though it would have ensured the end of any money issues and maybe enable my chance to travel. Money isn't the most important thing in work, and it's taken me so long to realise it. We need to do a job that we love so much that it does not feel like work. I'm not claiming this is my own idea either; I'm sure some of you will have read this before. Check this out: http://alittlenudge.wordpress.com. 

In fact, this lesson has made me wonder what I should really be going for after graduation. Is the Big Four really for me, or will I just be miserable? Should I stick to plan A of getting a highly-paid job so I could retire young and enjoy my life later with no worry about money, or do I enjoy myself from the start but earn hardly enough to do so? I feared that I will see all conventional  'jobs' as work, and that I will get nowhere in life due to lack of motivation and a stubborn pursuit of hedonism. 

Luckily this job at the ESC has made me realise that making money can be enjoyable.

Working hard or hardly working?

This job at the ESC involves catering for and welcoming French-speaking students who come to the school to do an interview and admissions test for the prestigious Grande Ecole programme (PGE). These admissibles are applying to several schools, so we also need to make them feel inclined to choose ESC Rennes over any other school should their application be successful.

Making the Admissibles feel at home. 

So why is it so much fun? Let's answer this in the style of basically any business-related publication, with a LIST!

11 reasons why this job is AWESOME! 

1) There are a variety of tasks. Yes it is mostly catering, but even then we are given different shifts at different times of the day to mix it up a bit.

2) Autonomy - we are free to promote the school as we please. The key is to create a good atmosphere, so we've played and danced to loud music in the corridors, sang songs, even played indoor badminton (One of the admissibles almost clumsily walked into my racket the other day!). 

Typical ESC mealtime. Bon appetit!

3) This autonomy includes Mario Kart sessions with the potential students. That particular activity is so  awesome it deserves to be a reason in itself!

4) I do not have to travel to the other side of the city every morning, doing the same repeated task for eight hours a day and with no company except for good-natured but uncommunicative French people. 

5) Instead I spend my time within the familiar walls of the business school collaborating with interesting Erasmus students and very communicative French people indeed, welcoming candidates for the school's Grande Ecole programme with drinks, biscuits and smiles.

Employable Ollie is still in France

6) It will help my employability! Yes it doesn't sound like much, but Employable Ollie, with his fluency in the old Latin language of Bullshitish, could translate it as "undertaking an internship in Public Relations, using creativity and demonstrating initiative to promote the school through a multitude of methods to potential candidates, including the use of bilingual communication skills." for any potential graduate employer who was hoping for palpable work experience. 

7) The bosses are also students themselves - we really feel like a team!

8) The first day we got to play laser tag FOR FREE! Having partaken in this sport twice this year already, I was determined to top my previous scores, and after three games I increased my personal best each time to be the top scorer on my team in the final game!!! Our team got owned, so I was basically a dwarf among hobbits, but that's not the point here. The point is, as Employable Ollie would put it I demonstrated my desire to learn from my mistakes and strive for continuous personal self-improvement.

Team Dragons ASSEMBLE!

9) We get to try international food. Divided into international teams, once a week we are required to cook something from our own country to provide samples for the admissibles, as well as share our cultures through decorations and music from our own country (the music was my team's idea - well done Katie and Marina!). I've been made responsible for a 'British' team, despite being the only actual Brit, joined by Irish Katie and Brazilian Marina. For my dish I struggled. What British dish has ingredients available in France (rules out a few options), is affordable (rules out a few more) is within my ability to cook (rules out the majority)............then it came to me: TEA AND TOASTIES!

Serving tea and toasties on British day.

The intercultural toasted sandwiches with French brioche bread and ham, cheddar and Worcestershire sauce went down a treat (and came back up later in the toilets - just kidding.... I hope....). And of course, we totally steal food from the other teams - can't beat Mexican molletes!

Representing my country LIKE A BOSS!

10) We can help ourselves to the food and drink, sometimes with permission!

11) WE ARE PAID TO PARTY! Not only in the school do we party, but we actually have a special (but slightly hideous) T-shirt to wear out in the bars in the evenings to show the admissibles the nightlife in Rennes. We are being paid to do what we've done all year as Erasmus students, and I won't say no to that!

Hard at work

Of course, weekends are free as well, so life outside the ESC can continue as usual. Sometimes that's when it gets tough - when I realise there are so few people left to hang out with, and I cannot help but compare the current situation to what it was before the Great Exodus in April, and especially in the autumn term.

However, there are still a few familiar friendly faces with me. Simon, my good friend and travel companion in January is the only one left with me in Appart City as Seung Taek the Sneaky Asian, still in Rennes, has escaped the clutches of our psycho hotel manager Jerome, who has been busy stealing the deposits of our friends. Avoiding the same fate for myself is possibly my only worry in this country. 

There is also Katie, the only Irish girl who decided to stay for the Admissibles job, and due to her obsession with that very annoying Carly Rae Jepson song, playing and singing it multiple times per day, I shall henceforth do exactly what she is singing. Maybe's new place in the city centre has become a sort of clubhouse for us remaining Erasmus students - perfect for predrinking parties, movies and of course, the football! Spain v Ireland was especially fun, as we watched it with Maybe from Ireland and some Spaniards too! Don't you just love international banter?!


I guess I should add that I now have someone special keeping me company here too. Yes, that's right - this weird Brit has somehow got himself a girl. And not just a girl, but a Latina! I spend a lot of time with my Mexican and she is an important part of my stay here, so I had to give her a mention on this blog. She's lovely and pretty, and I'm a lucky guy! Also, she is teaching me how to cook (with my expensive propensity to eat out this is VERY helpful) and also helping me learn some Spanish.

En Dinan con mi novia.

It is such a beautiful language, Spanish. The sounds, the Latin origins, the way they pronounce their Js like Hs and Vs like Bs. It is also far easier to understand than French - EVERYTHING is pronounced. The French have developed a sort of defense system against foreigners knowing their language. You can't tell plurals from singulars, the language is designed to run into each other ('Je ai?' nah make it 'J'ai'. 'Tu es?' Fuck that, too much effort - 'T'es!' 'Je suis'? No, the roast beef may understand us - let's say 'Shuis'.) and then there's the verlon language - the colloquial slang language derived from reversing French words that wasn't given the slightest acknowledgement in my school curriculum!

Now the Spanish speakers aren't as isolationist in their language (or in their countenance). I sat with eight of them one afternoon. Just me and eight Spanish speakers from Spain, Mexico, Ecuador, Morocco and even Germany, and even with all their different accents, and of course my lack of Spanish knowledge, I could understand more of what they were saying than the French, whose language I'm supposed to be fluent in!

I'm not whipped..really!

It's not just my Daniela's influence, but I have decided to pursue Spanish as my third language. I will acquire it through perseverance and Skype sessions with these wonderful people next year. My knowledge of French is already a catalyst for my Spanish learning curve - the grammatical structure is very similar, the concept of masculine and feminine words and as they are both derived from Latin, the vocabulary is very similar, so you can guess the meaning of Spanish words using French.

Oh yeah, so it's great to have Daniela as company here. I won't make a huge fuss out of it, because this is a blog, not a diary, and some things are too personal even for me to go into great detail about on a public website. But I can thank her for her kindness, for making me laugh and for being a great person online, can't I?

Gonzalo and Yohanna - great 'colleagues'!

Simon, Taek, Maybe, Daniela........ who am I forgetting? Well, a lot of people really! The Spaniard Gonzalo and his German girlfriend Yohanna share my rota at the ESC and are an absolute pleasure to work with. Some shifts can involve a lot of waiting, but you can always be sure to have a good conversation with these guys, and the time passes quickly, They are brilliant linguists themselves, both fluent in English, French and Spanish with Yohanna also speaking her native German and Gonzalo having Italian and Polish in his linguistic arsenal. Both very clever, it is a fun way to pass the time.

I've already mentioned Marina, the Brazilian who is in my team at the Admissibles job, and shares the awesome flat with Maybe. I have only gotten to know her once this job has started, and she is as sweet as she is a talented dancer - showcasing music from her home city of Rio de Janeiro to really enliven the parties! There are also the numerous Mexicans - especially Abraham, Marisol and Steph. I realise we men are rather outnumbered in this Admissibles team, so it's a relief to chat with Abraham and Gonzalo about more masculine topics such as football, rock and metal, women, video games,  sociocultural developments in Lesotho and the like. There are many others as well who are great fun. Russians, Spaniards, more Mexicans, Chinese,  Egyptians, Polish, Ethiopians......... the multicultural group lives on!

As you can see, the women outnumber us. Good times!

Pierre - our boss, and new friend.

But possibly the most important addition to our group is........ FRENCH! Yes, we've done it! Fuck the Holy Grail - we have found French people that are not disgusted at the prospect of hanging out with English-speaking foreigners! Our 'boss' Pierre is a legend of a man - a brilliant Anglophone by French standards, a natural leader and even more natural drunkard. He has joined our daily soirées and has brought other French guys along too. In my team there is also a guy called Martin, who is really cool and fun to play badminton-I MEAN work with (c'est pareil hein?). My French is also improving greatly from hanging out with these guys and from chatting to the admissibles - I even gave two of them a tour of the school IN FRENCH. Wow, if my dad could see me there!

So, to conclude - this job is a party. We don't work, we're just enjoying ourselves and awaiting a juicy cheque (okay, bank transfer) at the end.

The end. How can two small words create such a large impact whenever they are used. I know it's coming soon. In two weeks I shall move out of Appart City (hopefully with none of my deposit sucked away by my Dementor manager) and couchsurf somewhere for the very last week of the job. The last week of my year abroad. The. Last. Week......

It's nearly over. Wow.

Rant over

Ollie

The entire Admissibles team!
(I'm behind the palm tree to the right pulling a Barney Stinson pose...because I'm that cool...)

A Bromantic Weekend in Paris

Yes, you read that correctly - I said BROmantic. Are you still wondering what that is? I would consult the Olford Not-so-concise Dictionary, but I think this video explains it better:

So as you can see, bromance is basically romance.................. between bros. Yeah, I know. You never saw that coming did you? I'll give you a moment to really come to terms with and assimilate this heterosexual amour, because it is especially important for this post.

It was a couple of weeks ago  (I've spent the last two weeks drinking beer and watching How I Met Your Mother with my friend Procrastination Jones). I had just finished my exams and started my telesales job for a small start-up company. My friends were hopping on planes one by one evacuating the city like it was Damascus, and I started to feel like the last green bottle standing on the wall. Most of my friends due to stay for the Admissibles job were going to spend May traveling - they were getting away from the pain of an emptying city. I had neither the time or money for that, but somebody was imploring me to visit him in Paris.

I've probably mentioned it before, but my brother from another mother of a different colour, Cameron, had made the last minute decision not to return to Rennes after Christmas. Instead, he chose to undertake an internship in Paris, and it was his birthday that weekend, and of course he wanted me to be there. Having secured a (mind-numbing) job, I had an income, and with free accommodation.... well, it would be rude not to!

So after a hard and lonely day's work in Nowhereland, I rushed out of the office to get the TGV straight to Montparnasse station for my bromantic weekend catching up with my best friend. As he is from Hong Kong, I decided to impress him a bit with the Chinese I had been teaching myself with my audio course on my iPod (thank you Michel Thomas Method!) so I spent the train journey listening to this course (and dosing off, as I always do when traveling these days) and welcomed him by saying "Are you French now?" Okay, I haven't learned much Mandarin, and certainly nothing useful, but hey it's better than nothing!

Now, fortunately for you it was a couple of weekends ago now, so my memory is a little hazy and I won't be able to recall every last detail of the weekend. HANG ON WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP THAT! Stop jumping up and down and cheering! No, put away that champagne bottle! Don't you THINK about blowing that party horn! Why are you going outside? Oh no, those aren't fireworks are they.... Okay there's DEFINITELY no need to call your parents! Not at 2am!......

When I arrived and was greeted by my friend at the station, we went straight to get some French cuisine at the restaurant next to his place, where I had been on my last visit. (If I had written this as soon as I returned, I would have remembered the name. It was Le something I think. That should eliminate most options!) I thought "hey I have a job now! Why not treat myself a bit with some proper gastronomie". Okay, it was a lamb shank and creme brulée, hardly bourgeois, but for me that's rather fancy. Unlike my last visit in March, I decided to be less stingy with my money and ENJOY Paris. 

The last visit, like the rest of my second semester, I failed to chronicle in this blog. Basically I visited Cam for a weekend then for a catch up, along with my friends John and Kai from Warwick. John came from the aforementioned nerdland and Kai had flown over from Milan, where he has done his Erasmus year. Basically it was Ollie and the Eurasians, the world's saddest band name. That last weekend was spent being stingy, checking out Notre Dame (again) and Sacré Coeur (again) and watching Cam and Kai plough their way through the Paris Half-Marathon. I said 'watching' - by that I mean 'stay in bed until they are nearly done, then take the metro to meet them somewhere near the finish line, arriving late, but still pretend to have supported them throughout their arduous endeavour'. 

This time, however, was going to be just me and Cam, and I was going to splash the cash a little, dine properly, and celebrate his 22nd birthday in style. Ah, 22: what an important age! It is the first birthday when becoming older is not enjoyable. It does not empower you to do anything - 21 finished that off. It just means you're getting older, getting weaker, getting dumber, getting closer to death. From now, every birthday is a significant tick of that menacing and maleficent clock that depletes your life with every single movement nudging you towards death. So yeah, happy birthday buddy!

I know what you're thinking though - this weekend seemed a bit gay. There was nothing queer about our bromantic weekend: it was perfectly heterosexual and laddish. We dined together, walked near the Seine at night carrying our guitars to make sweet music near a bridge, watched No Strings Attached, bought ice cream and ate it as we promenaded along the boulevard in the world's most romantic city ........ a perfectly normal lad's weekend thank you very much!

But the best part for me was that I managed to achieve one of my goals for the year abroad, one that I had never mentioned on this blog. Twice before had I visited the Eiffel Tower in 1999 and in 2005, but NEVER had I been up it, not even to the first étage. However, it was to be the third time lucky, and by 'lucky' I mean 'without lethargic parents who are too sensible with their money to blow it on climbing hundreds of stairs' (but to be fair the queue was massive on the past two occasions). Luckily for us that day, the queue was negligible, and the ticket was a mere 9€ to go all the way to the summit. Hey, if I was to go up, I was to do it properly!

After briskly walking up the countless stairs with enough excitement to overpower the fatigue, I arrived at the first floor, and looked down. Everyone was already so small. The street we had just followed to arrive at the world-famous landmark was but a thin beige line. More stairs and the second floor beckoned. Now Cam had come further than his last visit, and the beige line was thinner and the pedestrians strolling where we had been merely twenty minutes beforehand were already smaller than the cliché size of ants. Now we had to wait for the lift to the top, so we joined a very international queue, including some Americans who got chatting to one another after realising both parties were from the same country and shamelessly switched from their broken French to their mockery of the English Language for the whole 7th arrondissement to hear. One lot were from Chicago, the other from Oregon, and being in another country left them talking like they were next-door neighbours!

Anyway, then it happened. The lift was ready. I had finally done it - the top. This was literally the highest I had ever been (in a building of course - my life isn't THAT sad!) I could see virtually all of Paris, playing a game with Cam to find the landmarks we knew so well. The Louvre, Notre Dame right near it, Sacré Coeur eclipsing the aforementioned overrated cathedral with its grandeur and making me again question whether if it were not for Victor Hugo, and then Disney, would the Sacré Coeur be more renowned than Quasimodo's abode. There was also the business centre of La Défense, looming ahead towering its surroundings to reflect the people who inhabit the respective buildings.This view of Paris from above made me feel strangely empowered: omniscient Ollie, lord of the French capital. 

Then we descended, and I remembered that I'm a pleb.

It must be said though, I love Paris. Despite its best efforts to look like the modernised capital of a world-leading economy and its large population and various arrondissements, it still carries that quaintness and antiquity that is so quintessentially French. Yes it is expensive, yes the metro is much slower than the Rennes one and the stations are disgusting. One example that weekend was, well how do I put it gently - fecal matter near a platform that was certainly not canine. However, it is a vibrant city with heritage, class, fantastic views, and a certain mode de vie that just does not exist in the UK. The French seem to enjoy the finer things in life - good food, art, culture. They seem happier than the British, and I do not think it is merely due to how little they work (oooooooh OH NO HE DIDN'T!) and part of me wants to experience this lifestyle for a while, to be Parisian.

But not for too long though.

As well as enjoying the city on a weekend of such wonderful weather, it was great to catch up with Cam, as well as Frieddie (my other fellow Warwicker in ESC Rennes who, probably rightly for her, abandoned me for Paris) and the other Warwickers who were based in the large capital. In fact, it makes me think of next year at Warwick, and how much I am actually looking forward to it. To avoid writing a novel in this post, I shall continue with a second one to break it up.

However, I am not wishing my life away (well, not until I return to Wales). Life in Rennes has become somewhat awesome again. Sure it will never be what it was in the first semester, or even the second, but Rennes is home, and I am about to start my last month here. The next post will fill you in on life in the present, in this Breton capital. 

Anyway, sorry for the delayed update and continuous backtracking. I am also sorry for the lack of pictures - I may add some tomorrow if I feel like it. 

So yeah, long story short, Paris is awesome. You can't do a proper year abroad in France without visiting it. After all "La France est Paris et le reste". 

Rant over

Ollie