Internships - a losing battle.

DISCLAIMER: The views and opinions expressed in this blog post are those of the pseudonym Oliver R Lloyd III, and do not necessarily represent the views of the real Oliver R Lloyd. Thus, if any potential employers read this blog and actually take it into account when considering my applications, please do not be offended if your company is publicly mocked, and please mind your own fucking business. This is a personal blog, why are you using this to judge me? It's George Orwell's 1984 in real life - seriously, leave my personal life alone. By all means, check out my Twitter and LinkedIn pages - actually don't, because they're empty at the moment. Just look at what I give you okay? My CV, cover letter, application form... the documents that are actually written for you. If you want to know the real me, ask me in for interview, don't Facebook/Blogger stalk me. Instead, focus on restructuring national debts or something and get us out of this economic crisis. I'm sick of paying 20p for a Freddo. 




Okay I had to write that disclaimer, because this week I posted a Facebook status saying that I was about to start my first internship application, adding the words "Bullshit cap ON". Upon reading this, a friend warned me against posting such honest statuses when companies could judge me by my Facebook posts. Of course, my Facebook statuses are only viewable by my Facebook friends, to protect me from paedophiles and beggars (despite me being 21, and beggars probably not having access to Facebook. But hey, it seems everyone has it these days!) so I didn't have to worry there. But my friend made a good point - and this sucks!

Why are companies looking at our social media? What are they hoping to achieve? Of course, most of our profiles aren't going to be very flattering from a career perspective, what with photos of drunken antics, crude wall posts from friends, and other things that show that Facebook is what it is - a SOCIAL network! Yes, it is a good way for marketing companies to judge your 'social influence' but isn't that what the Klout score is for? And what about assessment centres etc?

So a profile without anything that may hinder the candidate's chances of employment. Hmmm... what could that look like? How about this? 

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003114301784

Now of course my real profile isn't like that (much) - because when I say 'bullshit cap ON', I don't mean 'lie' - I just mean extend the truth somewhat. The art of bullshitting incorporates the inherent ability to tailor your achievements and experiences to the values and requirements of that for which you are bullshitting, may it be a company, a seminar tutor, or a Warwick Advantage Award application (I managed to get an award to demonstrate my contribution to extra-curricular activities at Warwick, which should hopefully give my CV a boost). Bullshitting is not a bad thing, it is simply a colloquial term to describe the art that all candidates should practise. So even if the companies about to receive my applications did see my status, they should understand that I would not be lying to them, as that would be illegal (and cheating - and I don't want to get anywhere in life not on my own merits).

So yeah, moving on. This week has been my much-needed week off. No classes, no annoying 8:15am starts, no boring entrepreneurship lectures, no-thing! I was going to go home for the week, see my family and friends, and watch the rugby world cup final in Cardiff if Wales had made it there (as was our right). Or I could have gone with Cam to see Kai in Rome, which he tells me was beautiful and awesome (he's already returned). But no, I decided to save my money, stay in Rennes and focus on one thing - getting these internship applications started and out of the way so I could focus on my 32047 group projects and exam revision.

Did that go to plan? Of course not.


Why, you ask? The truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared of investing hours of valuable year abroad time on each application, only to be rejected by each company. I've read their job descriptions - the people they're looking for, and the experiences that they need. I'm scared. I only scraped my 2.1 last year, I wasn't an official exec member of any society, and the only work experience I have had is making and serving pizzas. I'm not 'Employable Ollie'. I don't know much about fancy economics graphs, I don't really care about fluctuations in the Dow Jones market, and I couldn't tell you what major factors affect the yield on a corporate bond. But I can tell you this - I love dealing with people. It gives me a buzz. But that's not very impressive for a Warwick business undergraduate.

For a first internship, it would be great to have a great brand name on your CV. It would open so many doors. I'm looking at consulting, because I'd love to try it out and see whether or not it's for me. I'm also backing it up with HR and marketing positions at other companies. I need to apply to many companies to increase my chances of getting something, so it's a massive task ahead of me. Naturally, Prokey's been hanging out with me loads this week. We've watched a whole season of How I Met Your Mother together.

But it's starting to bother me now, this lack of getting anything done. So I've made a deal with Cam, to not shave until I've sent an application to each of the Big 4 financial firms (Pricewaterhouse Coopers, Ernst&Young, Deloitte and KPMG). As they are massively popular and very intimidating, expect photos of me with a Taliban-esque beard. I've already gone about a week without shaving, and have a nice healthy stubble going on here - so it's probably gonna get quite Jesuslike by the time I manage to find a way to convince the Big 4 that I would make a fine consultant. I mean, come on! Look at the photo! I'm a natural professional!

So yep, this week was totally wasted. Went nowhere, did nothing. But at least I'm relaxed. If you're also applying for internships, or have completed internships in the past, feel free to comment below to share your experiences, give tips (would be greatly appreciated) or just say anything you want to about this topic. Best of luck to those who are applying!

Rant over
Ollie

Patriotism & Punishment

Yes guys, that's right! I know the pain you had to endure without a post for nearly four weeks, so I have graciously decided to give you two for one! I know, aren't I kind to my non-existant fans!

Now, as you should know (and if you don't, you've been missing out!) the Rugby World Cup has been happening these past few weeks in New Zealand. Obviously this isn't very student friendly, with kick-offs being as early as 5:30am! So it is a true test of one's patriotism. And what a tournament it has been! I have always preferred watching rugby to football, unlike what seems to be an overwhelming majority of the British population, and the TV in my room, mostly used for the Xbox, has found a second function.

Now let me firstly say that watching rugby in France is SO much fun! The commentators are not exactly impartial! With the excited cries of 'Wheeeeey penalité!' and 'Aie aie aie' at poor drop goal attempts, it adds an extra dimension of fun to the games themselves. The English games really needed some fun commentary, so thanks France! It's also really fun to hear the French pronounciation of the Welsh rugby players ('James Ook', 'Shaymee Roober', 'Woh- button'). Your TV and music sucks, but with rugby broadcasting you deliver!

Obviously, my main concern in this tournament was that of my little home nation, Wales, who have had a rather unimpressive period since their last Grand Slam in 2008. Watching the first game against South Africa, I wasn't very optimistic. But then Wales turned it up, and only lost by one point to the defending World champions, with a kick by James Ook that was discounted for no apparent reason! So, a one-point loss - a fantastic achievement against the defending champions, but also really frustrating, as we were so close!

Now I don't know about you, but I find you become more patriotic the further away from home you are. In Wales, I thought to myself 'Shit, I'm Welsh. I have to learn this useless language, and there's nothing to do there'. While studying in England I conveyed the attitude 'Yep I'm the Welsh guy. We have a fair few things to do in Casnewydd. And no, we don't shag sheep - they've taken a vow of celibacy'. In France, I'm wearing Welsh tops, speaking about the amazing places to go and things to do in Wales and reciting llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch to near perfection.

And from this point on, the night I decided to stay up til 5:30am (I can't get up in the mornings you see) to watch the all-important clash against Samoa, I was ready to sing 'Mae hen wlad fen nhadau' at the top of my voice on the streets of Rennes. Of course, I was knackered during the match, and when Samoa scored that 40th minute try, I decided to get some sleep. No, I wasn't bailing on my team. I had faith that they would win, okay!

And of course, I was right.

Next came our rape of Namibia. Unfortunately I was stuck in International HRM class with my idiot of a teacher, so I had to rely on a BBC News Feed, and confused expressions from my classmates as I pumped my fists every time we scored a try (12 times in all). Then my favourite match of them all - Fiji, the bastards who knocked us out of the last World Cup. I watched in my room and relished every single point we scored, and every time our rock-solid defence denied them from scoring a single point. And Jonathan Davies' last try giving us the bad-ass final result of 66-0  made sure we qualified for the quarter finals. I wore my Welsh jersey all day, proud of such a powerful performance!

Now I knew what was going to happen. Ireland had beaten Australia in a shock victory, but if Italy beat Ireland, they would still not qualify, so I made sure to watch the match, hoping that Ireland would win so Wales would face them in the quarter finals and not Australia. Of course Ireland won, which was great, and convincingly, which was a bit vexing. But later that day I knew what I needed to do. I know a couple of Irish girls here, Katie and Michelle, who I like to chat with about the rugby, as they too are rightfully proud of their national team, and it's nice to discuss our shared hatred of the English team. They have watched some Ireland games at an Irish bar in Rennes, called the Westport, who serve a nice 'Irish' breakfast (which is a French version of the Irish version of the English breakfast) and I had agreed that if it was Wales v Ireland, I would watch it with them there. So I went to the bar later that day to book the breakfast.

That following saturday was the best morning of my time in Rennes so far.

You should know what happened, and if you don't - start watching some rugby! I was the sole happy man in the bar early saturday morning as Wales had a comfortable victory over the Irish. Of course I felt sorry for the irish people there, including Michelle (Katie had a class that she couldn't bail out on), and plus there was a slightly drunken Irish guy who looked like he wanted to maim me, so I didn't rub it in. Obviously, I was extremely happy. Never in my lifetime has Wales got to a semi final! (The last time was the inaugural cup in 1987). But the poor Irish have never even had that achievement, and I was shocked to find that out, with their incontrivertible talent.

And so after the heartbroken Irish fans left, I stayed to watch the second half of my great morning: England getting beaten by a weak French side! I cheered with the French at every opportunity France seized and England squandered. At half time, the French were 16-0. I'm sorry to say this. I feel ashamed to say this. Like a prisoner confessing his deepest sins, like a guy telling his best friend he is in love with him, like a paedophile revealing himself to the school board, I will now reveal the disgusting thought that went through my head at this stage.

I wanted England to score a try.

There, I said it! I'm ashamed to have had such a dirty mind, but I couldn't help thinking it. My English friends (including Matt) were sat with me, really depressed, and with a bar full of cheering French fans who were outnumbering them, I didn't want my friends to be humiliated. It just wasn't fair, plus France weren't playing anything like as well as Ireland did against us, and the fans were getting a little complacent. They needed a wake up call. One try, just to put the English on the board.

The try came in the second-half, and I was pleased to see the excitement on the English guys' faces. There was hope in their eyes once again, that maybe their shitty overhyped team could actually beat the other shitty overhyped team. But then, like a bump on the head, I reverted back to my Welshness. That's it England, you've got your try. Now France, kill them.

They didn't. England continued to attack and scored a second. This was getting stupid now. I had confidence that if France didn't beat England, then Wales would in the semi, but I wanted Wales to progress further than England. Much further. If Wales were the only home nation to make the semis, perhaps the BBC would start taking notice of us. Perhaps the French would take notice of us. Perhaps other countries around the world would now know of my little nation.

And thank God, the clumsy French side held their own, and I cheered with them as the final whistle was blown. Still in my Welsh jersey, I turned to the small French throng and yelled 'LE SAMEDI PROCHAIN!' and they all cheered - I felt like Aragorn or something!

So Wales had won and England had lost - it was a perfect morning! Now people were hearing of le Pays de Galles, the team that have trimphed and progressed beyond last cup's finalists England and South Africa. With our defensive performances and fluid attacks against Fiji and Ireland, and the last surviving team of the Pool of Death, I felt we could beat anybody, and the French would need to play a lot better against us. I was waiting for the semi, waiting to hear the final whistle blow and a superior Welsh side be sent to the final for the first time ever. I was preparing to deal with a lot of abuse from jealous French fans, and even to go online and book a flight back home to watch the final with my family, with 50000 Welsh fans in the iconic Millennium Stadium. I was well and truly excited that maybe, just maybe - Wales could lift the Webb Ellis trophy.

And then my hopes, and the dreams of my nation, were shattered in the worst possible way.

Getting up on Saturday morning to watch the game, I made the last minute decision not to return to the Irish bar, for fear of not being able to see the TV screen, but to watch it at Frieddie's instead. With a French boyfriend, Frieddie's allegiance was with les bleus, but she just did not understand what the match meant to me. How nervous I was that Wales succeed.

It started off well, with three easy points for Wales. I joked that I was happy for the match to end like this, while Frieddie, in her own sceptically curious way, asked questions not on the rules of rugby, but on why the rugby players had tape on their legs, which I admit, was a bit annoying. But she continued this throughout the match, and it soon became almost infuriating.

20 minutes into the game, the tragedy occured, and I stared at the screen evaluating the replay of the tackle by our captain and national hero, Sam Warburton, seeing it as a clear yellow card offense, having seen worse tackles get sin bins.

When Warburton sat down on the side, and the display said Carte Rouge I had thought maybe my French was wrong. Maybe rouge meant yellow, not red, because that couldn't happen. It couldn't be. I had never seen a straight red card before, but I had seen worse tackles!

My head fell into my hands. We had lost the game after 20 minutes. It was over. The French had an extra man for a whole hour of play. They would now destroy us, and it was just a matter of how many tries Wales could prevent.

But that was not the case. Although the French then seemingly dominated possession and territory, they could only get three penalties - not a single try! Usually the ten minute sin bin is a turning point in the game, and France had an hour with an extra man (sorry, TWO extra men with that bastard half-French, half-Irish ref - why the fuck was he in charge of  Wales v France!) and France still couldn't get past our defence, even when we were missing our captain!

Then I saw Mike Phillips break away and score a Welsh try and jumped up in the air. I could not believe it. There was just over 10 minutes left, and if Steven Jones could only convert this try, we would be in the lead! As the ball hit the post, I was annoyed (that was the 4th missed kick that could have sent us through) but still hopeful. We had the momentum. Just one more try. We could STILL do this. Screw the try, just a penalty. We could actually beat the French with a 14 man team, a historic victory. Screw the penalty, just a drop-goa-PENALTY!!! PENALTY!!! A straight long-distance kick, the very kick Leigh Halfpenny successfully put between the posts against Ireland last week. Yes! This was it! God the pressure he would have been under! I saw the ball go towards the posts and jumped in the air, smashing the glass of water I forgot I had left near me. We had done it! Just defend Wales, defend!

And then kick-off started, and to my horror, the number next to Wales was not 11, but 8. I yelled a curse - he had missed it! The ball had fallen centimetres short of the posts. We were still behind, and had one more chance. 22 phases. Come on Wales, get that drop goal! We need this! The French commentator was repeating 'pas de faute, pas de faute', to which I replied 'plein de fautes, plein de fautes'.

But the ball was lost. I could not look as the French kicked the ball away to seal their 'victory'.

Now I'm not going to lie to you guys, I was almost in tears. I was devastated! Of course, I do not believe it was a red card offence, as it was clearly momentum. He lifted Saint-Clair off the ground, which deserved a yellow, but he did not force him to the ground, so it was not a red-card offence. And if we had Warburton for that hour, oh what we could have done!

But it was too late for 'what ifs' and 'buts'. It was over. Our dream was killed by injustice and poor kicking accuracy (it was perfect against Fiji, why couldn't we have borrowed just one of those penalties?) It would have been easier if the French had thrashed us, if they had demonstrated that they were the better team. But they clearly weren't. I'm sorry to be a bad loser, but they weren't. Wales was undeniably the better team, and it was the undeserving French team, the team whose players don't trust each other or their mocha-moustached coach, who have made it to the final.

And then I was punished. Punished for my patriotism. Frieddie and Cam, who had arrived just after the final whistle, were totally unsympathetic. They just didn't understand what it would have meant to me. I tried to compare this to Germany in the football world cup, but Frieddie didn't care enough about them either. She was just bewildered at my upset, laughing and telling me 'it's only a game'. This was 10 minutes after the final whistle. How dare she be so patronising!

And then a French classmate of mine texted me saying 'Now you have to kiss the French flag as you promised!' Kiss it?! More like piss on it! How fucking dare she - like the French deserve this?! The French had beaten us by one point with an extra man! And now, they were acting like they had beaten Wales outright, rubbing it in my face. I didn't do that to Michelle and Katie, and I didn't even do it to the English guys, so why was I getting this treatment? I had to be alone for a while, gather my thoughts and relax. As I told Frieddie, she laughed. That girl really didn't get it! Maybe I was being melodramatic, but I was genuinely devastated.

All I can say is - I'm glad I wasn't at the irish bar.

So yeah, as I meet more French people this week and they ask me where I'm from that match always comes up. And the heartbreak returns. I'm still not really over the shock, but I know Wales will have to be tomorrow to face Australia for the 3rd place. But yeah, I still think of the match that should have been. Wales v the All Blacks. How incredible would that have been?

But despite all that, I have never been so proud to be Welsh. There is a SHIT load to do in my country, and loads of beautiful valleys to see. Despite the high teenage pregnancy rate, the low intelligence, and the hatred for anyone who has it, Wales is still my home. The rugby team has done us all so proud in this competition, and Shane Williams will be missed, as our greatest-ever try scorer and a phenomenal talent. But with the likes of Sam Warburton, George North, Rhys Priestland, Jonathan Davies, Toby Faletau, Scott Williams and Luke Charteris at the fore of our young talent, France had better watch out.

So despite the smug looks that were fired in my direction that day, I wore my Welsh jersey through the streets of Rennes, proud of my little nation and their conduct in this Rugby World Cup.

Good luck tomorrow, boys! Cymru am byth!

Rant over

Ollie

Business & Busyness

 Hey guys! I'm Ollie Lloyd from Newport, South Wales and I'm currently staying in Rennes, France "studying" business on my exchange year.

Just thought I'd reintroduce myself because it's been so long since you've heard from me you've probably forgotten who I am! I'm very sorry for this, but I have been very busy experiencing Rennes these past few weeks, and the longer it took, the bigger the task would become, and the more my manipulative friend Procrastination 'Prokey' Jones asked me out for a drink instead.

So how have I finally gotten the time to go through with this post? Simple, I'm in an Entrepreneurship & Small Business class with a teacher who, nice as he is, is a bit of a bore. He talks at us repeatedly for three hours at a time, with only a ten minute break to rush to get some Coke. It's thanks to him that I'm now officially addicted!

But as Richard Ashcroft sang in the classic Verve song "the drugs don't work", and the Coke can only get you so far. The effort needed to listen to his lectures, in which he says the same thing in 9 different ways (typical businessman I guess) is just overwhelming, and after finally getting (kinda) used to the 8:15am starts, this is still too much for me, and I always dose off. FYI, my body clock is still in British time, so I technically get up at 6am every morning, so any Warwickers reading this can stop complaining about their 9ams!

He doesn't allow usage of phones or even laptops during class, so I can't distract myself. And as Prokey is still at home having a staring competition with the pile of unwashed dishes, I thought - hey, let's write my blog OFFLINE! Yep, I'm seeing things differently, just like Warwick Business School claim to do. They have pictures of blue strawberries - MINDFUCK!

Okay so where did we leave off? Shit - Disneyland?! You're kidding me, that was weeks ago! Dammit this might be a long one. I might need to do this through Project Management too.....


Disneyland

I was very excited to go to Disneyland last Sunday 24th September - but why? I've been there so many times I've actually lost count! Well, 50€ for return travel and entry is quite the bargain, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to bond with those who live with me in Appart'City.

The bus ride was a pain in the ass - and neck, and back, and legs. We got up to get the bus from school at 4am (well I didn't get up because I didn't even go to bed, but let's not get pedantic about this). While we were waiting for the bus to arrive, I cracked open a can of Coke (they've stopped putting cocaine in their drinks right?). STUPID DECISION! The bus ride did not consist of cheerful banter and sing-along songs (It's been a while since I've been on a school trip), but everyone trying to get some sleep. My friends and I took a double seat each at the back of the bus and tried to curl up. With the caffeine bubbling frantically in my oesophagus, and the double seats clearly not ergonomically designed to be laid across, this ended up being quite the struggle, and thus I started my new hobby - contortionism.

When we got there five hours later, my feelings were a strange mix of nostalgia - it had been a whole 13 months since my last visit - and sadness. The magic of Disney was wearing off on me. I was there not for the atmosphere, not to hug Mickey Mouse and ride It's a Small World, but only for the 'big kids'' roller coasters. Walking through the park I was shocked at my own thoughts. I wasn't thinking I was in a different world where happiness and hope is forever ubiquitous, and my favourite Disney characters were there in the flesh. (At this age only weed can do that for you.) I was busy thinking how high the park's daily operating costs would be and sincerely doubting that, even with such a massive consumer base, Disneyland's annual revenue would be enough to make profit: WHAT HAS BUSINESS SCHOOL DONE TO ME?!

And, even worse than that, I was checking out the girl dressed as Rapunzel. She had to be my age and Oh God WHAT HAS BUSINESS SCHOOL DONE TO ME?!

Okay so anyway my priority was to try Rockin' Roller Coaster, the Aerosmith ride, and the fastest roller coaster in the park. After a childhood distaste of roller coasters, I had only conquered it last year by riding Space Mountain twice, and I had not tried the ride that, with its blasting rock music and guitar-shaped carriage, had my name written all over it!

So far it was looking good. The wait time was only 35 minutes - perfect! But then things started getting a bit shit. We were all asked to leave after 20 minutes of queuing due to the ride having a fault (I pictured a group of 24 people screaming and dangling upside down as the carriage stopped mid-loop, one or two hanging on for dear life, having somehow escaped the safety bars) and as we looked elsewhere in the Studios park, the rides either had a 90+ minute wait, or they had also messed up (more dangling screaming people). Okay, to the main park!

I won't bore you (anymore) with the details, but despite missing out on Rockin' Roller Coaster, it was still a great day, definitely worth the money!


The guys

Maybe I should introduce you to the guys with whom I went to Disneyland, who have since become some of my closest friends here at Rennes. To protect their identities, their names have been changed. Just kidding, I'm using their real names!

Matt (England) - Coming from Weston Super Mare, close to Wales, and also studying in the Midlands (Birmingham) he is from a similar background to my own, and coupled with our shared love of music and comedy we have naturally got on very well. As the only other British guy at ESC Rennes (Chris has left Rennes by the way - forgot to drop that bomb eh! He didn't like it here and decided to endure a 3rd year at Warwick instead. Wishing you the best Chris!) the two of us enjoy talking about British culture, how we miss fish and chips, and teaching our international friends PROPER English, not the American drivel they've had forced upon them.

Itzel (Mexico) - with enough kindness, wit and general awesomeness to make up for her short stature, my IBPM classmate is a great laugh, and her accent is the most adorable thing you could hear!

Simon (Ecuador) - A really funny and chivalrous guy who's somehow studying IBPM in English with me after having learned the English language for just one year! He's improved greatly already, and his voice is AWESOME - I can do an impression of him, it's so much fun!

Satu & Jaana (Finland) - Yep, it's your signature pair, where one without the other is weird. Satu is fairly quiet, but very wise when she speaks, while Jaana's lightning-fast dialogue conveys confidence and indifference towards anyone who disagrees with her. They are both fantastic, and often make my day.

Annelien (Belgium) - She knows just about everything there is to know about her home country (politics, beer, cities, culture, sport - anything!) and is very clever - luckily for me, I work with her in most of my group projects. She's also a very talented singer and a joy to discuss music with.

Rob (Cyprus) - Okay, this dude didn't come with us to Disneyland, but he lives with us in Appart'City and is definitely worth a mention! He's a big lad with a bad-ass goatee, and if you didn't know him you wouldn't want to spill his pint! But then you see his Family Guy t-shirts and realise he is just a great laugh, with a soft sense of humour, referring to my home country as the 'U Gay'. Great dude to drink with too!

Yeah I probably shouldn't have exposed these guys online, but I feel I should - they're an integral part of my time here, and I think they're all awesome! And the mix of nationalities never ceases to amaze me. I feel humbled every day to be part of such a cosmopolitan group, and I get to learn so much about other cultures from all over the world, not just that of France.




My studies

Another reason for the delay in the blog update is the sheer amount of work I have been doing for my various courses. I realise I haven't really explained what I am actually studying here, so here's a brief outline of what I'm doing:

International Human Resource Management - I realise this is my favourite field of business study - dealing with people and human capital. When I finally get started with my internship applications, I shall be focusing on this line of work. Unfortunately, I'm not the biggest fan of my teacher, who doesn't really listen to anyone's opinion. Dude, this is organisational behaviour - bloody psychology! Everyone's entitled to an opinion, and he tends to ignore our suggestions, having just asked for them, in favour of his own views based on uncited research. One particular example that pissed me off was when we had a case involving a staff member who spends his lunchtimes on the Internet and the HR manager finds he has uploaded his CV on a job website. Instead of trying to get to the bottom of the situation, our teacher would just fire the guy instead for using company Internet bandwidth for non-work related matters, even if his job performance were flawless! He even compared improper use of company bandwidth to using a company car to take your kid to Disneyland for lunch time. WTF? Who takes their kid to Disneyland for lunch? 90 minute wait times!

After an hour arguing with him, asking if our mark would be based on our almost-psychic ability to say what he thinks rather than arguing our own opinion based on academic research and business cases, we had to accept that he just would not give way. When I mentioned how demotivating firing the guy would be, the manager audaciously claimed that that was what all the Fortune 1000 companies do. When I mentioned Google and Microsoft, he said 'the rest do it'. Um, what?! How do you know this?! Have you conducted research on all 1000 companies?! Do you even know the names of all the companies! Do you even know what a company is?! Ugh, he's an idiot, but at least the arguments wake me up on Monday mornings. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 0.3

Project Management - this is taught by the same guy who teaches Entrepreneurship, and I don't really know the point of this class, because it seems to just fall in with the business plan that we have to do for the latter class. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 1

Entrepreneurship & Small Business Management - apparently we have an exam at the end, but at the moment I'm doing exactly what I did in my first year - creating a business plan and pitching it, except this time it is only worth 30% of the class, and the info in the lectures seems to be geared towards that. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 0.8

French Culture - Taught by a hilarious French professor resembling Bilbo Baggins, who himself claimed that the Finnish think he's either drunk or mad. It is quite a fun class, albeit a little pointless. I'm experiencing French culture firsthand through living here, meeting French people (which, by the way, I'm continuing to succeed at) and trying raclette - a great dish involving melted cheese and various cooked meats. So it seems studying it academically may be a waste of time. Fortunately, however, it is taught in fluent French, and is a great way for me to practise listening and understanding it. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 0.1

French Language - Due to being in the top level, and having not studied French for two years beforehand, it is extremely difficult for me at the moment, especially considering the lack of any English. The teacher knows some English, but she'd rather flap her arms about doing strange motions to explain new words. I think to myself 'just say it in English, dammit!'. I presented for the first time last week (on Coca-Cola of course, while drinking Coca-Cola of course) and it actually went pretty well, and since then my confidence has gone up. This is definitely the most difficult class, and sometimes I'm as enthusiastic about it as a snail about to enter a salt factory, but this tactic of total immersion is used in Europe, according to Frieddie, and the Germans are brilliant linguists. Maybe this is the reason we Brits suck at foreign languages so much - we need to be taught like this from the start! PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 0.7

Distribution & Channel Management - With a topic that seems unnecessarily drawn out, and a teacher whose English and general voice projection is somewhat lacking, this class immediately became my least favourite. Furthermore, considering it is early on a Thursday morning, the day after my 6 hours of French classes (which is very tiring), and sometimes the open bar events that are on Wednesday nights, it just did not seem worth studying. So, to reduce my credits to a normal level, and to allow myself a much-needed mid-week lie in, I dropped this class after just one lesson. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 2

Marketing Metrics - This is a VERY useful class, actually giving quantitative values to the otherwise wishy-washy field of studying that is marketing. Unfortunately the teacher is from Nice in the South of France, and her commuting means that we get only a few classes in this module, but they are intense and tiring - good job that it is so interactive. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 0.5

Salesmanship & Sales Force Management - taught by a charismatic American who clearly knows what he is doing, this course has been a very interesting introduction for me to the field of sales, a subject that is not taught at Warwick. Like metrics, the classes are few and long, but as the teacher is so engaging, and the course is so interactive, it is easy to follow, and is currently my favourite course in business. PROBABILITY OF SLEEP: 0 (except the ethics topic - that was a higher score of 0.8)


So there you go, a summary of my studies. As you can see, I have had an awful lot to do here, but it is mostly interesting, so I do not mind it at all. Although the 3 hour classes do take their toll.


Busyness

Finally, I thought I'd summarise the past few weeks outside the classroom. The weather was great the weekend after Disneyland, and I spent most of my time chilling at le Parc du Thabord, a beautifully-maintained park in the centre of Rennes, with many different people, drinking wine and enjoying what will probably be the last great weather of 2011. 

Of course, with all my various new-found friends, there has been the odd night out or fifty. I want to dedicate this, my longest blog post, to my stomach, who is an absolute LAD. The mélange of substances he has had to deal with has been ridiculous, from strong Belgian beer, wine and vodka orange juice shots (I drank so many of those shots at the last open bar I probably got my 5-a-day!) as well as one night where I decided to cook chicken that was rather funky, having been in my fridge for a bit too long. I had to pull out of a cremaillère that I was invited to in case of my getting salmonella, but fortunately my stomach fought off the small amount of funky chicken that I had thoroughly cooked, and I was perfectly fine. If there was ever a time to get food poisoning, that was it! So thank you, my stomach. Your continous service is much appreciated, and I will not test you like that again (the chicken, not the drink).

Obviously, summarising nearly a month is very difficult, but of course, for me, there was only one more event of continual importance throughout - the Rugby World Cup, which has made me very proud indeed to be a Welshman. So proud, that I will have to dedicate a separate blog post will the awesomeness of the Welsh rugby team, because clearly, I have written enough here for now.

So once more guys, I am sorry for the delay, and I will try to update it more frequently so you can get more detailed stories. But this has been a very important update for me, because I have finally outlined a few important parts of my stay here.

So what's next? Well tomorrow, after French class, I will have a half-term holiday that, coupled with the holidays of All Saints Day, will give me nearly two weeks of vacation. I wanted to travel through Europe with Cam, but due to the high costs of last minute flights, I will probably travel in January instead. I shall stay here to do some catch-up work while some friends go visit their loved ones. However, hopefully I will have some more stories to tell very soon. For one, yesterday I made sure that I achieve my main resolution for 2011 - to visit a new country. I have booked a ticket to Amsterdam for the weekend of the 5th November to see the sights and try the local specialties. Stay tuned for this guys as it should be a good one to report!

For now, I'm bloody tired, so I should leave you. I'll add photos when I can be bothered.

You look great today by the way

Rant over

Ollie

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!