My First Bad Day

I debated writing about this for a little while but then decided that it was important to share the bad stuff as well as the good. Every representation of a year abroad on social media makes it look like every day is the best day ever, and while most days are fantastic and I'm incredibly lucky to be spending my year in Paris, I recently had my first bad day.

It was the first day that I felt homesick and I think that's because, a month in, Paris ceased to feel like a holiday and more like reality, and with the end of the 'holiday period', homesickness came. Anyone who knows me well, will know that my family are my entire life, so being away from them is difficult: we are so, so close and this is the longest I've ever gone without seeing them. Homesickness was something I was expecting and a feeling I am completely used to from my days at university however, it's worse here as I can't just pop home for the weekend to see everyone. The other thing is that I realised I was actually homesick for England: it's really strange doing day to day things like laundry, food shopping etc. in a foreign country and it was this first bad day that I realised how much I miss Blighty.

Another issue that I let get to me on this bad day, was feeling lonely. I am lucky enough to have been placed with a big group of girls, which begs the question, how can I be lonely? The truth is, something my mum always says, you can be lonely even if you’re not alone. The difficulty of the year abroad is that while you’re often surrounded by people, they’re not people you know well, and this can lead to feeling quite isolated.

Finally, the biggest thing to get me down was an all-encompassing fear. There are a lot of things that I let worry me: will my French improve enough this year? Will I get a good enough grade in my assignment? Will I get a First in my degree? Will I get a job when I graduate? And those are just university related worries…like a lot of people I have my own insecurities that I have to deal with every day.

My first bad day ended in the best possible way: I phoned my mum. We spoke for over an hour and she did what she always does and put things into perspective for me. She made me realise that it’s okay to have bad days while I’m here, it’s okay to feel homesick or alone and that the main thing is to deal with it and move on. So, that’s what I did.

I’ve just got back from visiting one of my best friends in Bordeaux, which helped ease some of my homesickness and definitely stopped me feeling lonely. I’ve also realised since my first bad day that things aren’t as bad as they seemed. I’m living in a beautiful city with some of the loveliest girls ever and I need to just relax and enjoy it.

The negative feelings I felt on that day have since paled dramatically and I promise my next post will be much happier, detailing my adventures in Bordeaux and a Parisian Halloween.

Thank you for reading :)

Just another week à Paris!

This week began with my first proper day as an English Language Assistant and it was absolutely terrifying. On the whole, the teachers were great; they told me what they wanted me to prepare, took the lead and did their job (teaching) meaning I could do mine (assisting. Some of the teachers however, think that I am the new English teacher. This led to some very awkward and scary classroom situations where I was just left to it. Luckily, I’d been warned this might happen and came prepared with some fun Halloween themed games, songs and worksheets for the children to do. Side note: singing in front of 30 French kids was definitely not in my job description and was incredibly embarrassing.

After my first week as an assistante, I’ve figured out which teachers expect me to have prepared two 30-minute English lessons with no input whatsoever from them, so at least I know who the difficult ones are. It’s a good job I’ve got two weeks off because I need to do some serious lesson planning. Monday night, Laura, Charis and I celebrated starting work with a flat meal which was delicious and much needed. I got in from looking after Clémence and they’d put on a massive spread of bread, hummus, tzatziki, grilled aubergines and courgettes, salad, toasted squash nuts, falafel and vegetable rice, finished off with a cheeky bottle of rosé.

Epitome of beauty - that's me

Thursday morning I woke up looking like Quasimodo. I’d been bitten on my eyebrow by some little s**t of an insect and my entire eye had swollen up – I could barely open it. This caused a minor issue in that I couldn’t wear my contact lenses; why not just wear your glasses I hear you ask. Well, I’d snapped an arm off and hadn’t found the time/courage to go to an opticians to get them fixed. So at 7.15am I was facing quite a dilemma I could 1) wear my contact lenses even though it would be extremely painful 2) wear neither, in other words spend the entire day blind! 3) Wear sellotaped glasses like Harry Potter. Anyone who knows me will know which choice I went for! Thankfully my eye has since returned to its normal appearance and I don’t look like a Disney character.

Friday was great because most of us had the day off – did somebody say lie in? We got my glasses fixed in the morning and it only cost 12 euros, which was a relief. The man said I’d completely broken them and he’d need to attach a new arm that was a similar colour. I was pretty chuffed when I turned up an hour later to find he’d put on a Ray Ban one. The girls said I should snap the other one off so that my cheap Specsaver specs look designer and I haven’t ruled that out!

That afternoon we went to the Musée D’Orsay which is an old train station turned in to an art museum. I don’t think I’m quite cultured enough to appreciate all the incredible pieces there but I enjoyed wandering around all the same. Following my face plant at school last week I’d hoped to limit the embarrassing incidences from then on. Life, it seems, had other ideas. Jess, Anna and I went to the museum café to get lunch, which included a cup of diet coke. As we were getting up to leave, my bag got caught on my chair causing me to wobble my tray, this then knocked off my half full cup of coke. It went everywhere! Including onto a woman who had the misfortune to be sitting behind me. I blurted out my apologies in both French and English and hastily tried to mop up the mess with my napkin. Needless to say this didn’t work very well so I went up to a man working there, flushing with shame but nervously giggling at the same time. Luckily he saw the funny side of it and told me not to worry. A very sweet American guy saw it all happen and said to me ‘you could get away with a lot worse than spilling your drink with a laugh and a smile like that’ which was so lovely and probably one of the nicest compliments I’ve received.

Yesterday Jack and I went to the aquarium, which was so fun! We were definitely the oldest ones there, and the most enthusiastic. We saw the entire cast of Finding Nemo and spent quite a while sat watching the sharks. After having fun with the fish we went for a few drinks, watched the France game and went to a house party. House parties are not the same in France as they are in England. For us, a house party is an excuse to get really drunk, really cheap. For the French it’s more of a sophisticated soirée: people were just sipping wine, chatting and eating apple pie. Though the English half of the group did manage to initiate a game of Ring of Fire which, when you’re really drunk, is very hard to play, especially when it’s in French.

World's biggest wine glasses!

I’ve spent yet another weekend day recovering from a hangover, watching films and eating junk food and I’m determined to be much healthier/studious tomorrow. Me and my friend Hannah have decided to challenge each other to be productive every day and for every week we fail we have to buy the other a drink. Hopefully this method of long distance motivation will be successful because I’ve not stuck to my strict year abroad schedule once yet and I’ve been here nearly a month!

Thank you for reading!
Bisous à tous

A Week of Firsts

Last week was, unsurprisingly, very exciting but also tiring and scary. It began with my first day at school and I have to admit it was the scariest first day of school I’ve ever experienced. Sunday night once again became a time for preparing my lunch, picking my outfit, packing my bag and an early night. I went to sleep full of apprehension and woke up when it was still dark at 6.45am.

My timetable! V.busy but just 3 days!

I had to be at school for 8.30am but had no idea where it was or who I was supposed to be meeting with. Luckily, the school is a short 20 minute walk away and the first man I introduced myself to happened to be the Head Teacher. I was given a tour of the school and it’s massive: 12 classes of 30 and I have to work with all of them!

The children are between 6 and 10 years old so their English is pretty basic. I initially thought that younger children would be easier to teach but it actually makes things harder. How do you teach someone another language when they’re still getting to grips with writing and reading in French? The teachers are nice enough, some more than others and I’m sure once I’m all settled that we’ll get along just fine. The students are absolutely lovely (mainly because they all tell me I'm pretty)! They want to learn and show off their English so much, which is nothing like children’s attitudes to languages back home.

I won’t bore you with an in depth description of the three days I spent at the school observing the classes: it was boring enough for me to do! Something that might interest you though: I fell over. Yep. In front of an entire class, I slipped and fell flat on my face. I nearly died of embarrassment and I sincerely hope that’s the last time I trip up while I’m here. Also, some of the things the children have written by mistake make me giggle: so far I’ve seen ‘pupo’ instead of ‘purple', ‘my favourite food is my dog’ and ‘I’m fine thank you’ as a response to ‘What’s your name?’.

Me and Clémence!

It was a difficult first few days and it has really tested my resolve and my French but I’m sure it will get easier (or at least I hope it will). I’m certainly not loving my 11 hour days three days a week with school then babysitting. Monday night was also my first time looking after Clémence – yet again I had to go to a brand new school and find someone new. Luckily, it started relatively easy; I found the school, found Clémence who seemed relatively pleased to see me and remembered the way to her flat.

I look after Clémence every weeknight from 4.30

-7pm and so far I love it, but she, like most 4 year olds, can be hard work! We’ve had our fair share of tantrums but I think she’s slowly learning that she won’t get away with much. Our 5 minute walk home normally takes us 45 because Clémence insists on walking on all the walls, crawling ‘comme un chat’ and walking backwards! By the time we get home there’s just time for a game, some songs, a bath and a couple of tantrums. I've already taught her the word ‘leaves’ because she likes to pick them off tress and hedges, so teaching English is going well, if slowly.

Enough boring work talk. Saturday, I went to Montmartre for the first time,which was absolutely beautiful even if there were a few thousand steps! We went to see a Salvador Dalí exhibition, which I found quite interesting as I studied Surrealist art last year in one of my French modules. After the museum, we wandered the streets which were packed due to a food festival. I got some churros (deep fried doughnut sticks covered in sugar), tried some bright green, pesto cheese and some bright blue, lavender cheese. Everything was delicious. I can’t wait to go back to Montmartre and explore it properly on a quieter day.

Us partying on the metro!

Saturday night was my first proper (successful*) night out in Paris and it was amazing. We didn’t leave our flat until midnight which is a little later than I’d normally like to go out but it seems normal here! We went to a club/bar called Café Oz at Grands Boulevards and it was fab! We danced all night which, of course you all know, is my kind of night. The only dampener was avoiding the creepy French men, though I did find that firmly shouting ‘non’ at them did the trick. The craziest thing was that we stayed until the place shut at 5am! Yep. 5am. We decided to wait for the metro to start back up again and go home that way which meant I didn’t get to sleep until half 6 in the morning. Best thing about this 6 hour night out? It cost me 3 euros! I jumped the barriers on the metro like a true Frenchie, snuck into the club like the badass Brit that I am, and drank only water because drinks were 10 euros each. The 3 euros I spent went on chips and a diet coke: priorities. 

Yesterday was a complete write off which is why I’ve had to write this post today instead! I’m still tired from last week and am now having to do it all over again. Thank God it’s the holidays on Friday: two weeks of work then two weeks off. Sounds good to me.

Bisous à tous!
*The very first night out involved a metro trip to the Champs Elysée and back so I'm not counting it.