La deuxieme semaine

The other day, I bought a tiny, pink rug from the 2€ shop - it has butterflies on, and I can dry my feet on it when I climb out of the shower. However, I'm too scared to actually have a shower, as while the temperature did not fall below 30 degrees in Week 1, Week 2 has seen a rather terrifying turn in said weather. The heating has not however been turned on as of yet at my foyer, so I'm afraid if I get into la douche, I'll never muster up the courage to get out again - trapped for eternity in the painful caresses of the French Power Shower!



My funky new mini rug



I have been breaking up my days by making small missions for myself, which seem less terrifying than the larger challenges that they make up. For example, on Friday, my only mission was to buy stamps, which I succeeded in completing in the afternoon with new friend Jen in tow. The stamps were hugely overpriced, and the only envelopes that la poste were selling already had French stamps on... the post office lady seemed to be denying the existence of any other countries at all on Jen's enquiry about how one could post something to Angleterre... After what seemed like rather a lot of hoo-haa, we walked away totally nonplussed - a feeling I'm rather getting used to.

 

Since I have been in France - officially two long weeks today! - I have watched the entire season 3 boxset of Dawson's Creek (which, before you judge me, was actually a hotbed of teenage angst and emotional flux based around Joey's romantic indecision between boy-next-door Dawson, and bad boy Pacey Witter - who turns out to be rather charming after all), and my addiction to Vampire Diaries and Glee has been rekindled with both new series despite my foreign climes... French subtitles have been utilised a little when I have been feeling slightly guilty about my lacking intake of French language and culture.

 
But things have taken a rather desperate turn for the worse. Between having incredibly slow internet, and being an unwilling participant in the apparent Global Blackberry Meltdown (contributing to me having completely forgotten my own boyfriend's name due to lack of contact), FRANCE DON'T KNOW WHAT SQUASH IS. There is no Robinson's. There is no own brand. In fact, there is no squash at all. Thus, as I become gravely dehydrated and increasingly isolated, too afraid and weak to leave my little studio, lest a French waif should make some incomprehensible proposition. I suppose I should make some sort of lesson plan for Thursday's festivities - more roudy French ados to contend with. They threw books today. They shouted, slid on the floor under desks, and spoke French that I (obviously) didn't understand... I hid behind my hair, turned insane and fluffy because of the stupid shower - another string to my bow of shower fear!

So glad I did though - it was so hot and so
beautiful!

In ref to being a little lonely/ isolated, I went to
this garden show in the Old Town alone. . .



On Friday night, we went on an ERASMUS night out... I had about 5 of my new friends round (a very healthy melange of an American, a Spaniard, a Mancunian, a... Newcastlian... and an Essex gal) and it was very pleasant. I broke all the rules of my foyer in one foul swoop, as we drank wine, we listened to music in my studio after 9pm, AND when I returned after the night's hard core partying and didn't understand why the doors wouldn't open, I FORCED them open with my bear like strength, only being told off when I finally gained entry, as there is apparently a buzzer by the door that we just had to press to be let in... The night was however tres amusant and we frequented a real French bar - what a lot of scary people! And then started getting cocky as the wine flowed more freely - eventually talking to some French youth about a possible boite de nuit that we could party the night away in. They led us what seemed like miles through the cold streets of Le Mans, and we finally arrived at an incredibly smokey, very empty, rainbow coloured gay bar. We were unimpressed to say the least. They played one Abba song, which was a small consolation, but it was all very odd, and the other clientele (amounting to about 6 people) were staring rather a lot. Needless to say, we boogied a little, and then returned home to our beds.

Mes nouveaux amis - Jen et Dave

Anyway, I shall round off with a humorous exerpt from my morning class with the secondaires. The school I am working in is a very windy 2 hour bus ride from Le Mans, in a tiny place called Mamers. When I ask the various children what one can do in Mamers, they simply laugh. The class in question however was on giving directions, so having learned from previous lessons that the local swimming pool is something of a big deal, I decided to ask if they could direct me there. After being stared at, deer-caught-in-headlights style, I decided to try again:

     "Come on guys, I REALLY want to go for a swim, can someone tell me how to get to the pool?!"

A student then responded, a girl, "Oh, I really want to go swimming too, come with me!" I tried to explain that she should be directing me, and she only replied, "No, no it's fine just follow me, I'll take you there." After I attempted to take control once more and stated, "No, look, you have to give me directions. Can you direct me?", she simply replied "No" and just turned away.



  Much love and whatnot, H x          

PS Finally saw the crazy robotic Nantes elephant, that I think was the thing I was genuinely most excited about doing my whole year abroad! I wasn't disappointed - it even squirted me with water! x