Moving Day

So lots of things happened yesterday, but I made it in the end! Here's the balance sheet of how the day panned out:

• Lift to the station from a usually reluctant dad. Plus 10. Cry. Minus 3.
• Realise I have forgotten to print Eurostar ticket. Panic. Minus 5.
• Nice Eurostar lady hears my cries of anguish and kindly reprints it for me. Plus 5. Bonus points because she also admonishes a self-important businessman who tries to push in front of me in the queue. Plus 3.
• Meet Pete for lunch. Plus 25. He is half an hour late and I am so nervous I can only manage a third of my delicious gnocchi. Minus 5.
• Catch Eurostar on time and I even have a window seat so I can enjoy the lovely view on the way! Plus 25.

• Oh. Minus 5.
• Start reading British Council Assistantship Guidebook. Plus 10. Promptly fall asleep. Minus 10.
• Arrive in Paris! Plus 20.

• First sign for Montargis - it definitely exists! Plus 10.
• Look weird taking photos of signs. Minus 2.
• Make it to the Gare de Lyon with plenty of time before my train and there's even a lift! Plus 15.
• The lift is full of terrifying French Army men with machine guns... Minus 5.
• One of them is fit. Plus 5. He winks at me. Plus 3.
• Spend 10 minutes wandering the wrong way in the station and have to run to catch the train I was an hour early for. Minus 10.
• Catch the train (phew) but look like I've just run a marathon. Wash.
• Small angry child spends most of the train journey crying right next to me. Minus 5. She then wees all over the floor just as we are pulling into Montargis. Fab. Minus 20.
• Julie comes to pick me up - she is LOVELY! Plus 50. Nicknames my suitcase le monstre. Fair. Wash.
• Julie updates me on accommodation news: Sara is moving out on Monday which means the apartment would only be shared between me and the Chinese girl. So far so good, no shared room - Plus 10. However, the fact that Sara's moving out and the Chinese girl isn't paying rent (combined with a certain amount of short-sightedness from the school) means the entire 
  €400 rent will have to be covered by me. Not cool. Minus 60. Looks like I'm house-hunting then!
• Meet Pierre, Julie's husband (of 3 months - aww). He is also really lovely. Plus 20. 

• Bonus points for English-themed décor - Plus 5. 
• Dinner. Plus 20. 
• Julie finds me the apartment the English assistant had last year. It is lovely, furnished, precisely halfway between the school and the town centre (and right by the station) and most importantly, available from Saturday. The rent's €470, but apparently if I don't live in the school the French government will pay half of it for me, because I have a low income. Thanks French government! Sounds perfect to me! Plus 100.

Total: 206 (If I've added up correctly) and that sounds about right to me! I'm feeling much more excited than nervous now, Montargis is beautiful (from what I've seen) and I'm actually really looking forward to having my own place for the first time in my life - hope nobody gets in there before me!

Incidentally, the answers to yesterday's game were as follows: Spare phone and charger for my English SIM, collapsible laundry basket. Could have been worse I suppose!

T minus twelve hours

So this is it...

I'm sat in my slightly emptier looking bedroom wearing my worried face and a beret (to acclimatise myself to French culture). It looks something like this:

The worried face is partly because I am currently playing the 'Which inevitably vital item have I forgotten to pack?' game. I always lose this one. This particular round is made even more tricky by the fact that only one of my two suitcases is actually coming with me tomorrow, the other being brought (with any luck) by my parents when they come to visit in a month's time. It all adds to the excitement though I suppose.

Being as disorganised as I am, I haven't heard anything from Julie for over a week now, and it has dawned on me only in the last 30 minutes that this means I have NO idea what to expect upon my arrival tomorrow. Last time I heard from her she wasn't even sure if the flat would be ready. So this could go either way really! If I can get hold of some internet I'll update again tomorrow to let you know how it's going - wish me luck!

Briefly back in England

So it looks like my year abroad really is happening - today I made the frightening step of booking the Eurostar for Wednesday 28th September (at the very reasonable price of £38). Haven't quite mustered up the determination required to book the ticket from Paris to Montargis so far, so may well end up stuck in Paris, but let's face it, there are worse places to be stranded.

My incredible run of organisation didn't end there though, oh no. I've also finally filled in my year abroad insurance request form - only about 16 days after the final deadline. Oops. Hoping that was just meant to be a guideline. Or failing that, that nothing terrible happens to me in the first 16 days. I'm still haunted by the language department's disturbingly cheerful list of alliterative incidents that may befall us (assaulted in Avignon, raped in Rabat, burgled in Brussels, flooded in Florence...) and perhaps even more concerned about the numerous unpleasant things beginning with 'm' awaiting me in Montargis (mugging? murder? er... mail bombing?) OK maybe not as numerous as that, but M's probably still probably not my first choice of letter.

I've also kindly been furnished with a French Survival kit as a present from Pete, including such necessities as:

Modelling the French Survival kit

- Onion
- Beret
- Guide to French cheese
- Union Jack
- Signed cricket bat
- Book of rude French
- Photo of my friends (so I don't forget what they look like)
- And of course my lovely photo book from Charlie
In fact I'm starting to think I should turn 21/move to France more often because it's clearly brought out the best in my friends! So thanks guys (Rosie and Katie too but I'm leaving yours in England), going to miss you lots!

Anyway sorry for that emotional interlude. Going to leave you with this video which gives a pretty accurate and somewhat embarrassing portrayal of how I sounded for the first 24 hours or so after getting back from France. Is this just me?

Progress

London Pub, Marseille!

So on Monday I did finally get to speak with my 'responsable' (Julie) - although I admit that due to my crippling Gallotelephonophobia(?) I had postponed the inevitable all day, and it ended up being her who called me. I was expecting a long phone call with lots to sort out - especially after I'd got myself all stressed out about it the night before - but it turns out that, of course, I was being a little melodramatic. Funnily enough what seemed like a monumental problem to me on Sunday night was solved as easily as 'Hi, um, I'm the English assistant for next year.' Fab.

Marseille

Initially I was very apologetic about my inability to address a letter correctly, but apparently (in addition to all of the various misspellings of what turned out to be Paucourt), this summer the French government decided to change the name of the street to Avenue Maurice Chautemps. Naturally. To add to the communication problems, on the letter the Académie had sent to the school they had misspelt my name and email address as Eleanor Jerrans. No wonder they couldn't get in touch. Given the general inadequacy of the Académie at furnishing either party with the correct contact details, I'm a little worried that my first stumbling steps into French bureaucracy may prove to be representative of the whole... but luckily Julie is lovely, and has promised to help me sort all the tricky stuff out, so I'm feeling a bit more optimistic about the whole thing.

Manon and me

She's also given me some information about the school - apparently there are 15 English teachers, whose ages range from 26 (Julie) to 54, and around 1200 students between 15 and 19. So, a lot bigger than my sixth form then. Guess I won't be teaching them all, or I'll have to get through 100 an hour! Oh, and they have Saturday school... but not me! Lovely Julie (who is in charge of my timetable) has promised me my weekends will be free to travel and make the most of my time here (phew!) In accomodation news, there is now no spare room as there's going to be a chinese assistant too, which should actually be quite exciting! But don't use that as an excuse not to visit. Oh and had she mentioned the flat is within the Lycée itself? Um no... no she hadn't. No excuse to be late for work then!

Buffalo Grill Face

So feeling generally a bit more together with regards to October. Otherwise I've been having a lovely week with Manon, although typically the week I stop working the weather starts looking a bit 'Anglais'. Merde. Sunday was a prime example; Thunderstorm, market morning, unsheltered meeting place, Olivier half an hour late to pick me up (typically). On arrival he commented that I looked like I should be in a wet T shirt contest. And then the weather cleared up of course.

Phone box

Despite the weather Manon's been making the most of the week to give me a real insight into Provençal culture. Start as you mean to go on and all, so on Friday evening we went to probably the only English pub in Marseille - The Red Lion (complete with Beatles montage on the wall and English phone box) followed by Buffalo Grill for dinner - hmm. To make up for it though, the next day we went to le Val to the fête des saussices - a truly French experience. Unfortunately though, halfway through I realised I was LITERALLY at a sausage fest and couldn't take it seriously any more... Sorry Manon.
 

avec Valentin

On Monday I was left to my own devices in La Seyne sur mer (Manon had a meeting), and decided to go to Charlemagne - roughly the French equivalent of WHSmith. Now, I get excited enough about stationery shopping in England, so this particular expedition was nearly too much for me. Especially when I found the teachers' section (with markbooks and everything!) and had a sudden realisation of my soon-to-be-sort-of-teacher status. Fortunately I resisted going crazy, and contented myself with a shiny French Academic diary (so I can at least pretend to myself that I'm getting organised), and a real live Clairefontaine notebook with all those crazy French lines - both of which I am ludicrously excited about. Oh, and a pen.

The other highlight of Charlemagne was finding a series of books for children all about a boy called Max and his various character faults - Max hates reading, Max annoys girls, Max hates losing, Max only thinks about his willy - it rang a few bells for some reason... Can't for the life of me think why!

Spanner in the works

So, today I got the news that surely every budding English assistant dreams of; apparently, despite my best efforts to send them a letter (in French and everything!) at the beginning of the summer, the school I am supposed to be working at have no idea who I am. This is considered enough of a crisis at the school that they had a meeting on Friday dedicated entirely to discussing my anonymity and what to do about it. While this is, I have to say, somewhat flattering, it's also pretty worrying with only a month to go (and probably not the ideal first impression to make on my future employers...)

This all probably has something to do with the very confusing nature of French addresses - the name of the road was spelt 3 different ways on the letter I received from the Académie (Rue de Faucout), the school website (Paucout), and Google maps (Paucourt). Thanks guys. Then when I put in the school postcode it was on a different street entirely... Clearly, though, my best attempts to decipher this conflicting information were insufficient, and my letter never arrived.

Not to worry though, luckily I'm in touch with Sara, the Spanish assistant who has kindly let me know that all this is happening, and offered to try and help sort things out! In any case, I'll be calling them up first thing tomorrow to try to sort this mess out, so I'd better get over my phobia of phone calls in French pretty sharpish (it's so much harder when you can't see them!)
Will let you know how it goes.

On a side note, despite my supposedly second year degree level of French, apparently I still can't tell the difference between Tuesday and Wednesday. And I can't make Wednesday, so the bank meeting is cancelled. Oops.

Somewhere to begin

This might seem like an odd time to start my year abroad blog, given that my time in France for the moment is nearer to the end than the beginning, and part 2 doesn't kick off properly till October - I agree. Nonetheless, yesterday my summer with the lovely (and mad) Paxé family came to an end, and I've moved in with my French 'copine' Manon for a week which should bear a bit more resemblance to a holiday! So this is where we begin.

Miellerie de L'Oratoire

Let me start by updating you on the back story. For those of you who don't know, I spent most of last summer as a 'jeune fille au pair' for a family living in Sainte Anne du Castellet on the French Riviera. In a miellerie (honey 'farm'). Lucky me! Au pairing is a mixed bag, (especially when one of the children is a psychopath) but I had a wonderful summer - so much so, in fact, that I decided to come back for a second helping this year!

Perfect afternoon at the beach

So I rocked up to Marseille airport at the beginning of August, suitcase full of summer dresses and bikinis, and unable for the life of me to remember why, after leaving last year, I had vowed never to au pair again - I must have been mad. But then the psychopath child locked me in the cellar in the dark and reminded me precisely why. And after a delicious dinner (lovely rare steak with frites, followed by cheese... followed by more cheese... followed by ice cream... followed by more cheese), I remembered the 7kg I managed to gain last summer. Ah well, the sun was out, and I was by the sea - on a honey farm! And I was going to make the most of it. So I have eaten lots and lots of delicious food, drunk lots of delicious wine, sunbathed and spoken lots and lots of French, which gets progressively easier each day. A very proud moment last Sunday was when I told Olivier (the dad) a joke, and he managed a weak smile and told me it 'wasn't bad'. I find humour is one of the hardest things to translate between languages - especially my rather dry, quintessentially English brand. But generally I am in a fortunate position with my language, as the horrible 'Oh God I have been learning French for nearly ten years but I can't actually speak a word' phase (an inevitable part of the moving abroad process) happened last year.

Me at Saint Cyr market

I have also been  making the most of all my favourite things from last year - especially trips to the market on Sunday mornings, which I love so much that Olivier is coming to pick me up from Manon's at 8am tomorrow so I don't miss out. Having usually been on the tourist end of the French market experience it's a little bizarre to be working there, but it's doing no harm to their sales figures to have me helping out (I think I appeal to the key honey demographics of pensioners and tourists), and at any rate, I always have a great time. Probably helped by the 3 or 4 beers Olivier and I consume over the course of the morning, and, of course, pain au chocolat for breakfast. Yummy.

No gloves either!

One thing I didn't get to do last year was to don the full bee suit and visit the hives. This always greatly disappointed people when I told them I had spent the summer on the honey farm but had no bee suit pictures to prove it - so this year I was determined not to let the opportunity pass me by. The bee suit was happening. So, one sunny day when there was a visit to the miellerie, Olivier let me put on the suit and act as demonstrator for the day! How exciting! What you can't see in the photo though, is that I was wearing flip flops, so the suit was mostly for show. What a daredevil. On a side note, one unexpected (and not unwelcome) side effect of my trip is I am no longer the slightest bit afraid of bees. (Wasps are still a bitch though...)

Evidence of my 'tan'...

One of the best bits about coming back for a second time (well, actually third, if you count my 3 day 'séjour' in June) is that people are starting to recognise me as 'l'anglaise', mostly either by how 'blanche' I am (this is actually rather disheartening as I am currently about as tanned as I get, but sadly true), or by the fact that I have clearly been relished as a foreign delicacy by the mosquitos. But mostly it's nice that I'm starting to become 'connue', and it's a community which I am starting to feel more and more a part of. This was especially lovely at the Brûlat fête, where I had a rather frightening experience where a creepy man was following me. (I appreciate how much of a non-story this is, but it was scary at the time!) Anyway, everyone there went out of their way to make sure I got home safely, and the next day I had about 8 different guys tell me to let them know if I saw him again and that they'd sort it out (or 'sort him out' - got to love that little ambiguity in the French language!) Luckily he didn't reappear, but it was good to know anyway. People are also fascinated by the fact I am English, and are all either desperate to practice their (often drunk and terrible) language skills, or to introduce me to French singers all of whom they refer to only by their first names, and who they can't believe I've never heard of. But I'm becoming more educated in French culture as the days go by, which has to be a good thing.

The 'boulodrome' in Ste Anne

Another favourite hobby of Frenchies around here is laughing at my assistantship destination for the next year - Montargis (in the north of France, about an hour south of Paris). What amuses me the most about this is that their main criticism is 'You'll be shocked by the weather there!' Hah! By comparison to summers on the Côte d'Azur, perhaps, but compared to winter time in Durham it will be practically tropical! Anyway, (I can only assume because of an aversion to the glacial weather...) I haven't been inundated with offers of visits, except by the older of the two Paxé kids, Benjamin (who wants to finish a game he has started on my iPod) and, under duress, Manon. So looks like I'm relying on my English friends for visits (hint!)

Montargis!

On that note, I feel like things for my year as an 'assistante' in Montargis are starting to come together! I've been in touch with the future Spanish assistant at the same Lycée, who informs me that the school have a flat for us - so that's good news, I won't have to go househunting any more! Just have to keep my fingers crossed I get on with this Spanish girl - it'll be just the two of us as there's no German assistant this year (although that does mean I'll have a guest room - hint!) To be fair though, I still haven't heard anything from the school, so this could all change... I've also had a lovely message from a girl who was an assistant in Montargis last year and she says it is "BEAUTIFUL" but that "going out prospects = nil". Sounds a lot like Durham, really, so I'm not too worried. What I am slightly more worried about is the nearly 50 page document  the British Council have sent me about the French bureaucracy I am about to encounter. Tuesday I have a meeting at the bank to try to open an account - wish me luck!