It’s been quite a while since I wrote on here so I’ll try to fill you in!
The exam period was…interesting. Paul Valery isn’t exactly the world’s greatest university and their system for sitting exams was unlike anything us English students had experienced at home. One of the best moments was turning up to an exam and the teacher deciding that if you were an Erasmus student you didn’t have to sit it, always a good feeling! Prime example of the “different” exam methods of the French would be the history exams, sat in a lecture room that was too small for the number of students at the best of times, meaning everyone was cramped together – a far cry from the huge radius of space you inevitably have around you when taking an exam in the Great Hall in Leeds. Add into the mix that the teacher kept leaving the room for 15 minutes at a time, phones rang and the teacher didn’t even bat an eyelid and the fact that talking was clearly not a chucked-out-of-the-exam offence, it was one of the less pressurised exams I’ve ever sat. I’ll say no more than that…
So with exams being over and the end of the semester upon us, we naturally decided to party in style for that last weekend. It all started on Friday, the day which we had all built up for so long into being something so amazing: Friday was freedom, the day we got out lives back and no longer had to look at stupid notes and sit exams we’d stopped caring about. It didn’t disappoint. Aside from the fact that I had to get up at 6.30am for an exam (soul-destroying to say the least), the rest of the day, from then on, kicked off the party weekend. Friday night involved eating at L’Entrecote, a restaurant where you eat unlimited steak and chips (bring on the challenge), the “party tent” at the Christmas market, and then even more dancing into the night (safe to say we had “them mooooooves like jagger”). This being near the end of our time together, there was a lot of hugging, “I love yous” and photo taking. Or in other words, a standard night out. Another fun day Saturday, shopping, power nap and then out again; before the adrenaline started to wear off and exhaustion kick in. All in all, it was a brilliant way to end the semester.
It seems like such a long time ago that I first arrived, in the heat of the summer, when the main worry we had was what time we should get the bus to the beach, and had no idea what the next few months were going to bring. I’ve made new friends from different countries, visited different cities around France and had to adjust to a way of life that at times could not get more different from home. It’s not always been easy – towards the end of the last semester I got to the point where, however much I liked France, I was ready to go home for a bit, have a bit of good old English time and take a couple of weeks off. The more I live here, the more I realise there are very few similarities between the French and the English culture. For example, when French people don’t like something, they will make it quite obvious and not beat around the bush about it. English people, on the other hand, see this directness as a rudeness of the highest order, and so instead, the more we dislike something (or someone), the nicer we will be. Politesse isn’t always a concept the French understand; recent encounter with my landlady taught me this….
There isn’t much that can prepare you for how emotionally and mentally draining it will be to live in another country, in a different culture and in a different language! I always knew it’d be difficult, but you can only really understand it when you’re there. I surprised myself by how homesick I became at the end – and by just how much I fell in love with England when I no longer lived there. Tescos, money with the Queen’s face on it and Coronation Street all suddenly seemed so amazing. Ok, I admit, they’re not the cultural foundations of England, but they’re damn good. Monoprix, the euro and weird French television just don’t cut it. So coming back after Christmas made it harder to adjust to being in France again, where I have to do everything myself and deal with all the things that the French administration system can throw at you – yup, I arrived home to 2 letters, dealing with separate issues, requiring more documentation to be sorted out. Brilliant. Such a nice welcome back.
Saying all of this, it’s all part of the “experience”, the good, the bad and the ugly. One semester in France taught me more about French culture than 11 years of lessons ever had, I spoke French in more situations than could ever come out of GCSE “role plays” and I sat exams (and passed them) in French – which, for me, can be classed as achievements. Looking back on the semester as a whole, it really was a great time.
Roll on Semester Deux!
