Who is my flatmate?

YES! The wait is over - I am back on Warwick University campus, and it feels so weird! I've been away for sixteen months you see, doing that whole Erasmus thing I haven't shut up about, and the campus is so familiar, yet so different as well. I've gone from comfortably existing among the noobs, to becoming the old and wise finalist who is experienced in the art of Warwick life and surviving a degree. Of course that is not the case. I'm as wise as someone trying to pick an electric socket with a razorblade.

But I have not completely settled in just yet. You see, I'm staying in the halls of residence known in the common tongue as Claycroft. It is a wonderful residence with decent-sized rooms, a good location (next to the sports centre where I can burn some calories, and a Tesco where I can buy enough burgers to render my exercise useless) and a decent price.

The reason for the latter is shared bathrooms. These days if you want en suite at Warwick, you need to be the son/daughter/lover of an oil dealer from Qatar to afford it. However, I didn't particularly want to be living in a hostel for the year, setting off on a regular poop pilgrimage to the bathroom on the other side of the block. 

So Claycroft has provided the best of both worlds: flats with one bathroom per two rooms. This is great if you know with whom you're sharing this intimate place. I did a group application for halls with three other guys and two girls. Now, the flats are obviously gonna be single sex, so that rules out the girls, and one of my friends wasn't guaranteed on campus accommodation because the poor bastard hasn't been away for the last year and thus has been able to look for his own place in Leamington, and the lots that were drawn were not in his favour. 

You can probably guess what's happened. As fate would have it, the two other guys have been allocated together, permitting all the facilities they need for their homoerotic endeavours, leaving me with a fear of the unknown. 

Who is my flatmate? He hasn't arrived yet, and judging by the lack of familiar faces last night at the Students Union, it probably isn't going to be someone I already know. A bathroom is an intimate place to share between two people. I have a few theories about who it could be, and why I should be worried. 

1) The Player: The sort of student who will spend the year fishing for Freshers, and reeling them into his love boudoir conveniently located next to my innocent recluse so that I can hear every gyration of his conquests in the middle of the night, leaving me bereft of sleep and sanity.

2) The Raver: To him 'student' is merely a title, an excuse to spend three years on a daily binge of ale and amphetamines, crashing his way back in the flat at 4am with a gang of other lunatics so they can continue the night listening to house music at full volume whilst they bellow philosophies about the meaning of life and the purpose of Kim Kardishian, before quickly darting to hurl all over the white goods, leaving me bereft of sleep and sanity, and with a mess to clean up in the morning.

3) The Dysentery: The unfortunate sort with terrible flatulence or bowel problems that will make horrible noises and leave nasty smells to poison me every time I use the bathroom. Not to mention the skid marks...

4) The Self-harmer. Blood is not a welcome sight, and I am here to finish a degree, not to be a therapist.

5) The Oxbridge Reject: The tall brash handsome guy whose arms are as thick as his English accent. The only problem he has ever faced in life was failing to bribe Oxford or Cambridge University to admit him with his mediocre grades from Eton using generous donations from his banker father. He plays rugby, yet studies a scientific subject to make him the quintessential perfect man, apart from his bigoted conservative and anti-foreigner views. You know the sort...

6) The Nerd: I will be quite nerdy this year. I need to make sure the last three years are not all in vain and attain that 2.1 degree that seems to be all the rage. However, I do like to play guitar (both acoustic and electric) and the occasional bit of loud rock/metal music from my iPod speakers. If my  flatmate is even nerdier than I am and unable to tolerate this my sanity is at severe risk. 

7) The Thief: Oh my shower gel seems to have run out quickly. Waaaaaait......

8) The Creep: He will take a weird liking to me, watching me as I walk into the bathroom, sniffing my soap and brushing the bristles of my toothbrush. He wants my arse, but won't make the move. Then there's the sort who will.

9) The Queer Rapist: You know, like the Bull Queers from the Shawshank Redemption, targeting men after years without seeing a woman. They probably won't be prisoners, but they could be from somewhere like Estonia where all the attractive women have emigrated to live the American Dream modelling for third-rate blogs (....) and hence target me as their next sexual conquest. 

10) Norman Bates from Psycho. In that case, Mum, Dad. I love you, and hope you can continue to live a normal and fruitful life.

As you can see, this uncertainty is rather vexing. Why couldn't it just be a girl. They're clean, tidy and when they fart it smells like lavender....... 

Oh well, soon I shall know. Fingers crossed it's not one of those aforementioned guys, but I'm not too hopeful.

Rant over

Ollie

My Erasmus Story

Okay, I have just entered a written competition: "My Erasmus Story - Making An Impact". I had to summarise a year in 1000 words or less. I didn't think it was possible, but I gave it a go. Let's see what you think!

Ollie

My Erasmus Story – Making An Impact

Impact – what an interesting word. Sceptical ears could dismiss it as the rhetoric of politicians and business leaders. However, a curious ear may embrace it, seeing opportunity, excitement and new experiences. What does the word mean to me? Did Erasmus make the sort of impact that would appease potential employers as they skim my CV, or was it more of a deep impact, the sort that is not only plagiarised by the writer of Armageddon, but also the profound sort that could have a somewhat epiphanic influence on my personal development?

Arriving in Rennes, France, for my Erasmus exchange last September, I was certainly sceptical. My family has been to France for every summer holiday for the past fifteen years. Variety is the spice of life, and my parents hate the kick. France: been there, done that – what could living there really do for me? I chose France for my exchange over somewhere new so I could improve my French as well as my business acumen, though being welcomed by ubiquitous miserable customer service quickly brought into question my decision to study marketing there!

Luckily, however, I had the curiosity as well.

Rennes is a vibrant city in the heart of Brittany where the old and new are intertwined in that idiosyncratically French fashion. I am not going to waste my precious few words describing the city, you can find that on Wikipedia. The city’s significance for me lies in the memories I created there, of relaxing in Le Parc du Thabor, the bar crawls at La Rue de la Soif, that magical night when the city hosted a music festival in the streets, and of course: the people.

Within two weeks of arriving, I was hosting a party with attendees from countries as diverse as Finland, Germany, Mexico, Russia and Ecuador. Many of these became my closest friends. The world had assembled in this picturesque little city, and how I loved it!

Not only was boredom brutally banished as we delighted in learning about each other’s backgrounds, cultures and languages (I enjoyed teaching the rules of rugby as we watched my country Wales blissfully win the Grand Slam!) but the people themselves happened to be among the most incredible I have ever met, with a real carpe diem mentality. For me, being part of such an open-minded and cosmopolitan group was a novel experience that made every day feel as exciting as Christmas. Wizzard would be jealous!

Amongst all this excitement I should mention I actually did some studying. My hosting business school, ESC Rennes, was quite different from what I was used to in England. Seminars and lectures were integrated, and a more practical team-based approach was encouraged. This gave me an opportunity to develop my teamwork skills in a way I would never have been able to at home. I also benefited from enthralling subjects such as Sales and Digital Marketing which are not taught at my own university.

As for my attempts to become bilingual, I found it much easier to learn French outside the classroom through everyday interactions with the locals. My advice for learning a language: talk to the drunks. They speak slower and you will learn lots of colloquial words.

Having enjoyed studying at the ESC so much, I decided to stay for two extra months to promote the school to prospective French students. This included giving guided tours of the campus in French, playing games with the applicants and, as the sole Briton, sharing Britain’s culture with the applicants, from our exemplary music to our not-so-impressive cuisine. With the lack of British ingredients available in France, my patrons had to settle for toasties! It was an unforgettable experience. I truly felt like I was an ambassador for my country.

Furthermore, I spent a lot more time with the French during this period, joining in their dissonant songs and appreciating their unique sense of humour. For the last week, they even asked me to join the daily show they were performing for the prospective students. I was honoured.

Before Erasmus I was pessimistic and lacking in passion. One year later, I feel empowered. I not only survived, but thrived during this Erasmus exchange, and for me that is a monumental achievement. Erasmus is not easy. It has many challenges, from the language barrier to cultural shock to managing that generous Erasmus grant. Overcoming these problems has made me more independent, more responsible, and infinitely more confident.

A perfect example of this was in January. How many Welshmen can say they have travelled across twelve countries in just three weeks with a Mexican and an Ecuadorian? It was a difficult trip to organise. We darted from Budapest to Bruges, from Venice to Vienna, from Hamburg to Helsinki, savouring the sights and devouring the delicacies. The trip was not without its problems, though. We were robbed in the Czech Republic and our budgets were thin, so completing the trip developed me greatly as a person.

Now I am truly excited by what lies ahead. I have a large international network and an insatiable wanderlust. My French Culture teacher at the ESC helped to rekindle my love for writing and languages, and I know now that my future career must involve these. I also had the great fortune of meeting my wonderful girlfriend during Erasmus, who I shall visit very soon. Now bilingual, I have started work on adding Spanish and Mandarin to my linguistic arsenal. If it were not for Erasmus, I may have still been targeting a more conventional career and I may not have found my passion – for language, travel and culture.

Did Erasmus make an impact on my life, and not just my CV? Absolutely! I arrived with the desire to become bilingual and left with so much more. If anyone is still sceptical, stop overthinking. Just do it! Be open to new experiences, and it could make an impact on you too.

I need your help!

 I've done a lot of the talking this last year. Now, dear readers, it's your turn. If you have a couple of minutes, Oliver R Lloyd III needs you! 

As I get ready for my final year at university, I anticipate that there won't be anything like as much to report as there was in Rennes. The Life and Musings will probably become more about my Musings than my rather repetitive Life. The blog will continue, but it will probably be a little less frequent (yep, about one post a year).

I need a new direction. I really want to continue writing, but I need to branch out! I need something to keep me sane during this year full of cold hard business. 

My question to you readers: What would you like to see me write next?

I have a couple of ideas already, but I'm not going to share them just yet, because I want to see if you have any fresh ideas totally uninfluenced by my own. 

This may be easier if you actually know me. What am I talking about?! Honestly with the amount of fucking detail I've gone into this past year you probably know more about me than you know about your mum! I am nothing like as important as her (unless she's Sarah Palin) so I apologise for that. 

So to what would you next like me to turn my metaphorical pen? Any ideas are welcome! Go on, be creative!

Please comment below or you can join the Life and Musings Facebook page on https://www.facebook.com/TheLifeAndMusings and contact me on there! 

I really appreciate the feedback I've received so far and would love to write more. Thank you for reading - it's been a pleasure so far! 

Rant over

Ollie

Rennes - One Year On.

Reading Time: 4-5 minutes.

Ah. My blog: it's been a while! This time, however, I have no excuse for not updating it. I'm no longer busy with day-to-day life in Rennes. It's not like I've been doing loads this summer either, changing the world one rubber duck at a time. There's been no work experience either. My skills have not been honed in business insight, but in Pokémon White (No, it's not childish! It's an intricate game of strategy!) So what is my excuse?

At least I had some Easter eggs I hadn't been home to eat

Well, there hasn't been much to report, and I have already proved myself incapable of writing small  snippets like most bloggers. Instead I choose to subject the reader to paragraph after paragraph of verbosely written and excessively and extravagantly protracted lexicon in an attempt to make them submit to a dictionary and a therapist. So, I thought I'd wait until there would be enough material to write the usual novella, but I've given up already upon neglecting my blog for too long - I'm scared it will run off with someone else.

So, I chose today to break my silence. Today is a very special day. No, it is not my birthday - that's in eleven days (hint hint) - this is far more important. While my birthday commiserates the day of my birth, I'd like to think today commemorates the first year anniversary of the birth of International Ollie. No, it's not another unfunny alter-ego: it's just the new Ollie that emerged from an exchange year in Rennes with a newly discovered passion for being part of international groups, traveling and foreign languages....

Basically: a year ago today was the day I moved to Rennes.

The day itself was not the most exciting. I was up at 4am for a drive to Poole through randomly windy roads that involved my dad running over an owl. Then my friend joined us on the ferry to France and I settled in Rennes that afternoon. I remember the gallette I ate that evening with delicious Breton cider to go with it, but I could not fully enjoy it as I was so nervous about Rennes. I remember my fears. Would I survive in another country? I hardly survived second year - would this be just as bad if not worse? Would I make any new friends? Would I improve my French at all? Would I be wasting a year?

I remember those fears so well, because it felt like yesterday...

Now here I am, one year later. I'm alive, I'm bilingual (by my dad's standards, not by my own insatiable ones) and I have not only a large network of friends from many different countries, but someone very special waiting for me on the other side of the Atlantic. While a year ago I felt very pessimistic about my future, I am now extremely excited for what the future holds. One more year in the UK, then I am free to explore and enjoy this world.

Me and my girl at a music festival in Rennes.
Such good times!

But for now, new fears have surfaced. For example, how can I convince my professors at university that the aforementioned transformation was what made my year abroad? For them, the main aim of the year abroad is to learn about the different business culture in France. And they wonder why society mocks them!

After a wonderful year's copulation with Erasmus life and all its joy, I am now left with the unwanted pregnancy of two fat essays to write for my own university to count the year towards my degree.

I hate essays. They are horrendously vague, you never know how much reading is enough, and they are subjectively marked to the the assessor's own mysterious standards. A time-consuming failure to appease whose method is in the ability to either survive reading a mountain of informative but terribly written gobbledygook written by authors who are as boring as their bibliographies, or to sleep with the assessor. It's a guy this time. To the books!

Other fears? That I will balls up this final year the same way I did second year and have nothing to show for four years but a mountain of debt and many much more successful friends who will refuse to offer me a job because they will know how useless I really am... nah, I'll be alright.

I am actually quite pumped to get back to Warwick and finish this degree. It's getting me through Post Erasmus Depression for starters. As anyone who had an awesome time at Erasmus (which should be the majority) would know, after living in this dream reality that's as cosmopolitan as It's A Small World but without the annoying music, it can be rather difficult to readjust to normal life in your own country. Having had the best time of my life, realising I am in my element when in an international environment, and falling for a wonderful girl from another continent, it may come as a shock to discover that I am, in fact, no exception.

I want to still be in France. I want to feel like I can be myself without peers from my own country looking down upon me for being weird. I want to practise foreign languages without being suppressed as a show-off. I want to still see those incredible people I met there, especially my girl. I don't know when I can next see her. It all depends on how frugal I can be this year - something I've never been good at.

But my Welsh friends and Warwick are getting me through. These essays and preparation for the final year, as well as catch-ups with my friends, are keeping me busy, drawing my focus away from the heavy feeling in my stomach and heart. In four weeks time I'll be starting the all-important final year, and there will be much to keep me occupied.

Apart from my studies, I have the great honour of being part of BandSoc's fantastic executive committee. I should explain: every society (or club) at the university is ran for students by an executive committee (or 'exec' for short) of elected student members. After missing out on my first attempt, I have been elected onto an exec as Treasurer for the Band Society, or BandSoc for short.

BandSoc focuses on bringing musicians together to form bands and to provide them with somewhere to practice, gigs to play, and a supportive network of other musicians. It was lots of fun for me in my first two years at uni, so to help run it this year will be a great experience, especially helping to organise the annual Battle of the Bands competition, in which I hope to play again.

I looked more impressive
than I sounded...

Moreover, I am going to be promoting the Erasmus scheme to school students as an Erasmus Ambassador for the British Council, through (shorter) blogs and speeches. I guess I'm doing this not just so others can enjoy what I've enjoyed, not just for the experience, but also to be part of Erasmus still, stubbornly holding on.

Finally, I've got myself an awesome job teaching English online to French people for a French company. It will be convenient, being in my room on a computer. It will be fun. I'll feel like I'm directly helping others, and I'll be saving up the earnings to go traveling when I can, especially to Mexico.

All in all, there's plenty to look forward to. I still have some great friends in Wales to entertain me for the next couple of weeks, then it's a busy year full of new experiences, and then a lifetime of uncertainty, freedom, and, hopefully, fulfillment.

It may not be Rennes this year, but it's not too bad at all!

Rant over

Ollie