Faits divers.

A few things I have failed to blogg about.

Bites: Since my arrival in France, I have been the victim of no fewer than 12 bites. At present, I have 5. That said, I have killed 3 suspected mosquitos so far. So, Mosquitos 12 v. Martin 3.

Cirefe: Last Monday we sat a test for CIREFE. I'll be honest, I have no idea what that stands for, but it meant doing a test to assess my French.

First question: is your spoken French a. much worse, b. worse, c. about the same, d. better, e. much better, than your written French?

That was how we were assessed orally. (No giggling please). The test itself involved describing a picture, then making up a conversation to go with it.

Woman: meet me at this address at 18h. My husband will let you in, and I will arrive shortly.

Needless to say, I quickly changed the direction of that conversation.

English section of the hypermarché: The hypermarché had an English section. I paid 1,57€ for beans. And 3€ for Kettle Chips. Worth it though. They had 3€ cans of Strongbow too. I did not buy Strongbow.

Bites: see above.

Stares: This country is a nation of gawpers. I mean seriously. They don't even make it discrete that they're gawping at you. They just gawp. I have recently started gawping back. This seems the polite thing to do. Plus, it makes it known that I have caught them. Fuckers.

Carrefour Crazy: This involves the angry/man who sits outside Carrefour and shouts abuse. "Profitez de la vie *mumbling* Breton". He scares me, and I avoid him.

Mattress Lady: A woman has started selling mattresses outside Carrefour. 50€ for a single, 100€ for a double. I am unsure if this is a bargain or not. I'm unsure about the prices of mattresses in real money.

Bites: As above.

French PCs: I mean library computers. Not only do they have retarded keyboards (I mean you need to press shift to get a full stop!), but they wouldn't let me use Facebook, or check my webmail today. Not amused.

Evil stares: Some bint spent at least 3 minutes intently staring at me, stopping the stare only to blink. Once. Evil.

So. Much. Kissing. : How is Swine Flu (or Grippe A) not bigger here?! I mean they kiss each other when they greet each other. They kiss each other upon departing. Get. A. Room.

Qu'est-ce que tu as fait le week-end dernier?

Well, this weekend has been a pleasant one. Mainly consisting of not emerging from pyjamas until at least 14h00. Not alot happened Saturday daytime, except a trip to Carrefour. For once I remembered to take my reusable bag. Well, one of them. I have created a small collection of reusable Carrefour bags due to my spotaneous trips to the supermarché. At present, I have 6. This number will undoubtable increase. For the soir, we all piled on a bus to Patton, or Rue de Houx, to see Liz, Sinead and Jennie at their cocktail party. It was a fun occasion, with Liz being drunk, obviously, and Frenchies being present. On that note, I shall recount to you a rather humourous story or anger, and a misguided country.

Frenchman: Wee userd to own 'alf ze world!
Moi: Lies! We owned 2/3s of it!
Frenchman: Yer deed nart. Anyway, your rrroyal fameelee arr Franch. Per'aps yoo 'av 'erd ov Guillaume le Conquerant?
Moi: Fuck off. Our Royal Family are a bunch of Germans! And, I have heard of William the Conqueror. He was a Viking. Moron. Heard of Napoleon?
Frenchman: But zey arr Franch!
Moi: Is this our stop?

There was also something about how we don't really own Australia and New Zealand. I'm sorry, but while our flag is still on their flag, and the Queen is on their money, they're ours. Morons.

Sunday involved mince and potatoes. It was yummy. :)

Et maintenant le voyage a la hypermarché...

Wednesday was my day off, and as such involved not doing alot. I seriously forget what happened on Wednesday.

Thursday was clearly much more eventful. I had the traditional 3 hour lesson led by a fast speaking Frenchman. It was during these 3 hours that a thought occured to me. Out of every 100 words that this man was speaking, only 10 were of any relevence. Ergo, proof that the French speak a load of shit.Anyway, I found out that because I'm an international student, I don't have to do an oral presentation in that class. That saves what would undoubtably be 20 minutes of awkwardly spoken French.

The afternoon involved a trip to the elusive hypermarché. It turns out that it is just a 90s shopping mall. Seriously. It was dead, and 90s. The kind of location where zombies would invade. But, I got some stuff in the hypermarché, so it was good. I have come to learn that the French cannot organise supermarkets properly. At home, you know exactly where the milk and bread are: at the back. Here, there is just no order. They do not put the conditioners that go with the shampooings next to the shampooings. They are morons. They also put shampooing and apres-shampooing away from the gel-douche. Morons.

And so the fun continues...

Well, Monday involved more lessons. Well, only the one CM (lecture), which was pleasant as expected. Nothing too heavy. The only thing I dislike about that lecture is that it's at 8h15, and that the lecturer keeps making jokes. Or rather, keeps TRYING to make jokes. He laughs, noone else does. I'm glad I don't get it. Me and Rob made a snap decision to change our modules completely too. Which means I now have the rest of Monday's off, and that I can go to the later lecture for that module. Plus Tuesday becomes "Spanish day", or "Martin-day" as Liz likes to call it. Wednesday is still free, and Thursday is history day, as is Friday. It also means that I can do the later lecture on Monday, making every day a marginally later start, except Friday. Stupid Friday. Some other stuff probably happened on Monday. As always. I forget what it was though...

Tuesday brought a day of Spanish, commencing with Grammar at 9h15. I don't understand how everyone in first year is such a good level. Well, I suppose I can, but I like to think I don't. *special*. Anyway, it was all about accentuation etc, dipthong things, "llatus" (which turned out to hiatus) that and so on. At the end, with the usual "Est-ce qu'il y a des questions?" my hand went up, and off rolled the "Je suis étudiant Erasmus" speech that I have now learnt off by heart. The woman was very nice about it, so all is good. That said, for the mysterious "thème" class. This basically involved sitting down, shutting up and translation Text 1 from French into Spanish. First problem: what the fuck does this mean in English?! Second issue: France cannot make good dictionaries. The middle of my French-Spanish dictionary had a grammar section with some verb tables in. Obviously they weren't ordered in a logical order; i.e. alphabetically. Or even in most frequently used verb order. Stupid France. Anyway, one hour, and a lot of the imperfect subjunctive later, we emerged. Wanting to change desperately to English-French translation class. This may happen next week.

Sinéad and Rob also found an Irish shop in town (apparently Irish products are in demand over here...) and bought me some beans. Actual baked beans. That said, they were 'Batchelors', a brand that I've never heard of, but they were marvellous nonetheless. I added the traditional nob of butter and a splash of milk, to make them extra nice. Then commenced the eating. Om. Nom. Nom.

Dimanche.

Dimanche involved a lie-in. God, I love lie-ins. I spent the majority of the day telling myself that I was honestly going to start my Spanish homework. I never did. Instead, we planned on going to the Parlement de Bretagne in the apres-midi. As it happened, the queue was too long, so we went to the Musée des Beaux-Arts instead. It was a little odd, but it was worth the 0,00€ we paid to get in. Some sort of weird free weekend thing. I didn't question it. There were some nice pieces in there. It was just odd. And cultured. A man came up to me and said something about "fantastique" and "4jours". I applied the oui-nod with precision, and ran off. The evening brought about mash, steacks hachés and gravy. God, it was good. Merci, Maire. Mairci.

A rather French seaside.

Samedi involved a trip to Saint Malo. If you don't know (which to be honest, I've not got high hopes for you knowing), Saint Malo is a town by the sea. It consists of a small walled town, complete with cathedral, cobbles and shit tourist shops. It also has a beach.

The day commenced with meeting at the station. This plan was flawed. The majority of the group made it onto the train with no problems. Then came the panic. 4 of the group didn't arrive at the same time as us. Now, because I know you definitely won't know this, Rennes station is stupid. You have to go upstairs to get your ticket, then go down to the platforms from there. But, not through the door through which you can see the trains. This is a lie. It was almost humourous (sorry Victoria and Derek, but it was) watching the panic on their faces. Derek went to the 'Lost & Found' to buy his ticket, to be told that he had to purchase it upstairs. Seeing this was priceless. Anyway, we all arrived there. Eventually. I'll be honest, it was a bit of a disappointment. The first thing we saw was a building site. Followed by an abandoned train station. Lunch involved a galette (I'm getting pretty sick of these now) followed by a crepe. And then the hunt for Saint Malo began. We fathomed it out, eventually. But, it was miserable weather. We got there, and it is a tiny walled town, with a beach attached. That said, I'm sure I would have appreciated it had it been nicer weather, but as it happened, it wasn't. It's full of shitty tourist shops, and it's overpriced. I did, however, like the cathedral. It was pretty quite cool. As cathedrals go, anyway.

In other news, I bought Harry Potter in French. Or Arry Potteur as he is called here. I intend to read it at some point.

Drink probably happened in the evening. As per.

Home, sweet home.

Well, today involved a lovely trip to IKEA. If you don't know, I love IKEA. I love every aspect of it, from it's silly Swedish names, to it's real Swedish books placed in the bedrooms/living rooms to make them look lived in; from it's bizarre luminous orange drink at the restaurant to how organised it is. In short, we went to my Mecca today. This IKEA totally blew my IKEA at home out of the water. For starters, it had two floors. TWO FLOORS. They had even made the restaurant quite classy, compared to the one in Leeds which just feels like a canteen. The one in Rennes feels like a real French restaurant. This is helped by the food that is served. Proper French food, with an IKEAn twist. I got a tiny rug, a duvet cover (finally!), a cup, a glass, a plate, some wooden spoons and some candles. Plus some coathangers. In case you're wondering, candles in French is "bougies".

"N'oublie pas les paroles!" was also watched today. Which is "Don't forget the lyrics!" in English. If I'm honest, it was pretty shit, but I enjoyed it. They format it like Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?. Lifelines and everything. It's all so serious. Most bizarre.

The art of the oui-nod

I'm sure we're all aware of the phrase "I'm smiling because I have no idea what's going on". Well, Robert and I have gradually been perfecting what we like to call the "oui-nod". This pretty much consists of a situation in which a French person says things to you, and you respond with "oui" whilst nodding the head. This can be adapted to suit other European ways of saying "yes". So, for example, it could become the "si-nod" or the "ja-nod". Anyway, the reason I'm telling you this, is because the other day, Robert and I had to endure what was essentially a 3hour seminar. It was a 2h seminar followed by a 1h seminar, with 15mins inbetween. As it was a first year course, however, it wasn't really a seminar. It was just the tutor introducing the course. For three hours. After 2h30, he asked us, and the American girl, whose name escapes me, "Ca va? Je ne parle pas trop vite?". Instinct kicked in. "Oui, ca va. C'est bien". So he continued for another half an hour. Not fun.

The rest of Thursday was fun though. Robert, Maire (pronounced Moya, she's Irish *rolls eyes*) and I decided to go on a tour of the métro here. It basically involved going right from one end to the other, getting off, going "ooooh. look at the architecture on that carpark" and returning back. Then doing the same at every métro stop until about Gares. It was an experience. We saw some nice parts of Rennes (Clemenceau) and some not-so-nice parts of Rennes (Italie). We also found the cultural centre at Triangle. Let-down. Outage ensued in the soirée. As per.

Spench vs. Spancais.

Well, Tuesday involved getting up for an 8h15 lecture. Again. This lecture had a slight twist to it. The twist being that the lecturer didn't turn up. Seriously, not amused. We waited half an hour, in the vain hope that soon enough the French would apply the 5-minute rule. They did not. Half an hour later, the first Frenchies began to leave. We followed. So unamused. Coffee was consumed, finally, and then I approached my first seminar. Actually scary. I could cope with not knowing anyone. I could cope with her speed of French, just. What I couldn't cope with was her casually switching between French and Spanish. Or Spench as I like to call it. More coffee, plus a baguette, then a lecture in Spench. They do like their Spench. Other stuff happened. But I forget what. Alcohol, probably.

Not alot happened Wednesday.

Ugh.

Well, yesterday was an experience. My first ever lecture at 8h15. I arrived, blurry eyed, hoping to God that I'd got the right lecture theatre. As it happens, we had. People turned up very late to the lecture, like an hour late. And the lecturer was slowly getting more and more grumpy about it. I'm pretty sure he mentioned something bad about Britain and our "revolution" that I didn't know we had. He also skimmed over the French defeat, and how the only reason we were involved in some conference was because we wanted revenge on Napoleon. He almost said it in a "Napoleon was just misunderstood" manner. Fools. I bet they hated ABBA. The lecture was all I had that day, so Rob and I went on a mission to try and locate our timetable. It led us to a computer lab in the library. After 5 attempts at logging on (the French keyboards are retarded) we established that it wouldn't work here either. So, I tried to get on facebook. I don't understand why the French think that the fullstop is such a periferal device that one needs to push "Shift" in order to access it. As with numbers. It took me 5 minutes to log into Facebook.

Also, yesterday, I discovered that some modules go on until the 19th December. That is 6 days before Christmas. How the hell is anyone meant to get back home?! This isn't the worst. I could have an exam on the 4th January. This country is actually retarded. Nothing ever works. Well, I tell a lie, Rennes 2 is retarded. The words 'pissup', 'brewery' and 'couldn't' come to mind.

Fitting in

I am starting to feel more French. This is why:

1. I eat croissants.
2. I look left, then right, then left again, when I cross roads.
3. I go straight accross roads, assuming cars will stop for me.
4. I write my times in French (8h15, for example)
5. I sound French.
6. I write my 1s specially, and I'm working on my 9s.
7. I use retarded French paper. So many lines.

I may edit this as it lengthens.

A very blustery day, and a rather inebriated soir.

Well, Saturday was excursion day. To Mont Saint Michel. Remember? I told you. It was a nice sunny, if blustery, day for it. Instinct told us to go sit at the back of the coach. We looked cool, even if it was just in our minds. We got to Mont Saint Michel, and we had to try and have a group photo taken. I'll be honest, France cannot do anything right. If this was an English excursion, we'd have had people shouting "tall people at the back" etc etc, we just got told to get in and get down. Anyway, long story short, I'm pretty sure it failed. Mont Saint Michel is lovely, it just has two flaws: it is REALLY expensive, and it is full of tourists. The town is lovely, with lots of narrow rues and the like, but it has alot of steps. From the top though, the view is quite nice. A pleasant day was had by all, until we returned to the bus. It had been sat in the sun all day, and had basically turned into an oven. So, still sat at the back, we spent the entire journey back sat looking very unaccustomed to such heat, fanning ourselves with whatever we could find. My fan of choice was a postcard. Which will be sent off, and whoever receives it will learn of it's previous function.

In the evening, I purchased a rather overpriced bottle of Martin (Rosso, naturlich) for pre-drinkies at Maire's. I remember more or less downing the second half of it. Then it becomes a blur. I definitely remember ordering two glasses of Merlot in town, and knocking over a chair. Most of the night was just me being told to shush.

I learnt my lesson. Sunday involved a terrible headache/hang over, and there was definitely sick upon my return to the ghetto. In the sink, obv.

brb.

Off to Mont Saint Michel. Brb.

Are ye rite thair, so?

So, I have been hanging out with the Irish. I feel like I need to Irish up. So, as a result, I Irish when drunk. I apologise. Lol. These past two days have been eventful. Ish. Outage two nights in a row. The first involved walking home (40mins from town to ghetto), and the second involved the elusive "night bus" and walking through the McDrive. Pure class.

I attempted to do my laundry yesterday. I was all excited, ready to use the laundrette in my building. Then I arrived, and say "en panne" on the only washing machine. Not amused. So, I went to Maire and Fiona's and used their's. It was posh, and my clothes smell good, so I can't complain.

I also arranged a meeting thing to check my room is in order yesterday, and made the fatal error of addressing a woman older than me as "toi". Embarrased. The meeting thing consisted of "yes, it is fine", plus some mumbling about something. I reverted to the smiling politely, as I forgot to listen out for the French. This happened more or less the same in the bank when I went to get my French bank account. By the time the hour we were in there was over, I was freezing (air con), had a sore neck (from nodding and smiling politely) and had RSI in my hand from all the signing. Jeez, the French do love their bureaucracy.

Splish Splash.

Well, beaucoup de choses have been happening here in Rennes. Yesterday, Robert and I dragged ourselves to a history talk. About doing history at Rennes 2. The basic message was "If your French isn't that good, don't bother." We also learned where Hall B (pronounced "'all bay") is, and where the subject library is. Both were letdowns.

Some other stuff happened, then we went to pick up our 'Korrigo' cards (local transport cards) and our student cards. With the student cards, we have been told since last week that they were not ready. They still weren't ready today. I had to watch as a man cut down my face, quite dramatically cut down, might I add, then attach it to my card. It's so flimsey. I'm not impressed. Plus, I look scarily like Liz on my card. Or Liz looks scarily like me. Either way, not good. Korrigo cards in hand, we went to town, cos we could. And dossed in a café, with cider. God, Bretagne knows how to make ruddy good cider. Drinking on an empty stomach does not equal a good idea. As I learnt later in the night. Outage occured, which mostly involved sitting in an Irish pub watching France v. Serbia. I don't know who won. We moved on, then were shamed by another English person, for our lack of inebriation. I quickly drank my drink and drank more. Needless to say, lightweight me + empty stomach + alcohol = quite tipsy! The drunkest I've been abroad in over a year! Yay, me! We met French people. I don't know how, but we did. It seems that polite French conversation starts with "vous n'etes pas hétérosexuel, non?". Obviously. We left the bar, mainly because the woman told us to go as she was shutting the bar. Waited for the bus, only to be told by French people that the night bus is only on at the weekends. Walking happened.

I also got told by Frenchies that my accent sounds really French. Even by one that they thought I was French. I felt so proud.

A tale of two teas.

Today has been a bit nothingy, but in a good way. I went to some meeting about subjucts, for Spanish specifically, experiencing a Spanish woman speaking in spanish for like half an hour. Oh my, it was boring. I thought we would be enrolling. Oh no, we have to go see all these people. She explained something in French to a non-Spanish speaker. Odd experience.

I forget what happened.

I have been sampling the locals' attempts at making tea. The general manner in which "un thé" arrives, is in a sachet, with a tea cup and a pot of hot water. SANS LAIT. It made a nice change to go to Rob's an experience a proper, albeit with minging milk, cuppa. He has brought a tea-pot. My attempts have thus far involved attempting to boil a pan on a hob that NEVER heats up, and microwaving a cup of hot water. This all changed yesterday. Carrefour had a new stock of 13€ kettles. I was on it like a fly around shit. So, I now have a kettle, which I'm not allowed to use in my room. But, I have done already. It has made my week :)

Also, this blogg is all over the place. I never bothered to finish it.

La politesse.

Well, we all know that the French are meant to be rude, oui? This, from experience so far, just isn't true. Sure, they're a bit up themselves, and sure, they give us funny looks when we're being English, but, they all manage to force a "bonjour" "merci" "au revoir" or "bonne journée" when serving us in cafés or shops.

Not only this, but cars stop to let you cross the road. Actually amazing.

Remember being taught that France is a rude country? Well, Sinead and myself have established that this is just a typo. It's really Drance and Grance that are the rude countries. France is quite politely annoyed about the whole situation, and soon enough Drance and France will have a war. Grance will try to look in, but get pushed out of the way, as their views don't count. Poor Grance.

Soleil.

It

is

so

warm.

Oh blighty, I miss thee.

First things first, I did decide to have that croissant before I went to bed last night. So, don't feel like I don't fill you in on my oh-so exciting life.

Secondly, today I was hit by a vague pang of "missing blighty". Mainly because (TMI, I know) I was on the loo, and the French seem to dislike toilet seats. But, oui, here is a list of what I sort of miss about Old Blighty:

1. Toilet seats.
2. Normal, non-prison-style, showers.
3. Ovens.
4. Freezers.
5. Real milk.
6. Squash.
7. Apple tango.
8. Real-sized beds.
9. I think that might be it for now. Give it time, I will edit this list as it grows.

Alcoolisme.

Well, today has been a pretty lazy day here in Rennes. I was meant to go on a tour of the town at 10, but couldn't be bothered. I was surprised to learn later on that they actually did a register. This is compared to the market trip where you just turned up. Anyway, I like to think I know the ville enough by now. We had a "pot de parrainage" thing today, which involved putting on a sticker with our name on it, finding our stand "Grande-Bretagne + Irlande", and talk to a bunch of people we already knew. Our 'parraine' turned up too, said "bonjour. tu aimes rennes?" then went for drink and left us. Polite, or what? We left, and went to find where Fiona and Maire (pronounced Moya, it's Irish) lived, so we could find their place when we go for a film night. This naturally involved going to the McDo under their building. I'm pretty sure that the French hate me. They gave me loads of ice, served Rob after me, but he got his food first, and they do not wish me a 'bonne journée'! The natural next step was to purchase cider (Bretagne's finest, 1,95€ for a wine bottle-sized bottle) and sit on some grass. This was fine, but it was fricking warm today, and I melted on the walk to find grass.

I'm actually melting as I write this. It's unbelievably warm. I may have a croissant.

Changing Tracks

Well, today I listened to Radio 1 online. As you do, and I just so happened to tune in to Jo Wiley and her ridiculously annoying "Changing Tracks" part of the show. If you don't know, what this is, basically someone rings up with a sob story, and how a song reminds them of how they got out of said sob story. Ex: today someone rang in telling us how they fell in love with the perfect guy, and he was so perfect. Until they found out that he was in a long term relationship. He wanted to keep going out, but she said no. And now she's living her life. The song she chose was erm... I don't know. But it was pretty shit. Modern, maybe with Amelle. You know, the new, generic one from the Sugababes.

Then, I moved onto listening to NRJ Radio. It was French. I didn't get what was going on, but I heard English music. And Nelly Furtardo, a Canadian of Portuguese decent, singing in Spanish. Naturlich.

Combien?!

Well, so far today I have been looking at sorting out which lessons and the like I am thinking of taking. I was gonna go on a tour of the town, but I couldn't be bothered getting up in time. I can hear alot of bonne journée coming from the corridor, and it always seems to be the same person, which concerns me that we may have adopted a concierge. Anyway, anyway, anyway, I was noseying through the 200+ page booklet we all get (think of the wasted paper!) with the modules and courses we can take, and finally thought that I'd look up what the hell CM and TD/TP means. CM are 'cours magistrals', i.e. lectures, and TD/TP are 'travaux dirigés/pratiques' and I assumed them to be seminars. Until I saw that it said they are taught in smaller groups, of around 45. This now concerns me as to how many people are going to be in lectures! And how many people there are going to be in seminars! Eep!

Operation Kino.

Well, this evening, for a change, we went to the cinema. We found, well rather, I found online a cinéma near Place Sainte-Anne, so off we went in search of filmular delights. The cinema itself is pretty cool. Not very big, but big enough. I got charged student price, with my purple card, so I was very pleased about not getting ripped off with adult prices. Inside the "movie theatre" itself, it was plain, but comfy, and the film started after only one trailer, about a woman saying "no mother, i will dance" or something like that. It was in French, and I had no idea what it was. The film we saw, was Inglourious Basterds. It was good, and I was excited 'cos I knew it was going to be subtitled. I was unaware there were to be French parts in the French. Naturally, why would the French subtitle the French parts? These parts were difficult, and unclear. This is not promising, considering I have months to spend here with this language. Aside from that, I quite enjoyed the film. It was very Quentin Tarentino-y. Obv. But it was good. There was a poster for a film called "Humpday", with the tagline 'have you already tried your best friend?'. It showed 2 men on the front. This seems quite forward for France. I will wikipedia it and see what the crack with that is.

Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?!

Well, today involved a trip to town. For bruncheon, which is a mixture of luncheon and breakfast, although by the time we ate, it was pretty much just luncheon. Another galette. This time with mushrooms on. Or as we say round these parts, champignons. Mushrooms are vile. I actually think it is the texture that puts me off. *shudders*. Anyway, it was acceptable, despite the Orangina I had to drink. I really don't like Orangina, and don't see why France prefer it to Fanta. I also had my first problem with language. Not that I didn't understand, but instead of explaining that we were waiting for one more of our group, I said we were hoping for one more of our group. I chose the Spanish verb for to wait, and 'Frenched it up', so "espérer" means 'to hope'(esperar in Spanish), and "attendre" means 'to wait' in French. So yes, I got a funny look, not only off the waitress, but off the others. I felt special.

So, I have discovered the terrible curse that is French handwriting. I don't know if I explained this the other day, but when I arrived at my ghetto, I was given a white swipe card to get in the building, plus a key for my actual room. On top of this, I was given a tiny piece of paper with some numbers on. One was my room number, another the code for the building and another the code for my fridge. If you look at the piece of paper (I took a photo), you will see the "code de porte d'entrée (i.e. code to get in the building. It looks like 2500, or at a push 2509. Apparently, in true french style, this says 2569. Fools.




Eeeee! I nearly forgot! Today, in town, I bought something that looked marginally like a scone, but came in lots of different varieties. I bought chorizo (on the right) and pomme (on the left). Biggest let down. Ever.

Touriste? Anglais?

Well, today involved a trip to Marché des Lices. It is a huge street market mingling in with a real indoor market thing, in the centre of town. It's quite amazing looking at all the fruit and veg, and dead animals, and live crabs and lobsters, and mouldy cheese, and fresh, rock-hard bread. I was taking a photo of a man's dead chickens, when he asked me "touriste?" which then led onto "oui, anglais", and he then proceded to tell me how "chicken" is French. Long story short: coq's are chic hen's, from Latin via Old French. This was followed by "oh god. those crabs are moving" and "oh god. that poor lobster". Experience is not the word. This was then followed by watching some weird French band/tap dancing session. It involved a band playing music, and a woman tapping away with her shoes. Followed by a woman coming round with leaflets for lessons. For everyone but me. Evil wench.

More wandering later, we went out again. On the way to meet everyone, a French child asked me if I was a student at the university, I said "oui, mais j'suis anglais". This was naturally followed by all the english he knew, and "goodbye", and then by a traditional 'stone the englishperson'. I kid you not. A french child threw stones at me because I was english. I will have my revenge. Mark my words, I will get my own back on that little shite.

I also bought camembert today. I don't normally like cheese, but I thought "hey! when I france...", so I then proceded to try and find some camembert. I'll be honest, it was a challenge. There were so many different brands. The next mission was getting into it. It came in a tiny wee wooden box, then it was wrapped in plastic, then I had to get through the layer of mould (it's meant to be there) to the creamy cheese. I was unsure about the layer of mould. It was all good, so I can't complain.

Tomorrow is Sunday = lie in! Although, I'm sure the bakery shuts at 12, so I may go for a baguette. On verra...

Rennes, je t'adore!

Well, after a shakey start yesterday, things seem to be back on track. I met more english-speakers today. There are alot of Irish about here. Well, there are alot of Spanish here too, but it seems I know more Irish than I do anything else. I met some Germans and another English person! Hurrah for the english!

Today involved some sort of obligatory talk, which told us no new information. This was followed by "un apéritif". 11h30, and I was on the breton cider. AND, it was socially acceptable. God, I love France. This was followed by a trip to town. We made the mistake of getting off at Sainte Anne, and NOT getting the escalator. It's the equivalent of like 5 flights of stairs. Legs. Of. Steel. It was worth it though, because Place Sainte Anne is really really lovely. With nice houses that are like the Shambles in York. Some wandering later and we ended up in Virgin Megastore, which sells stationary, books, everything. It's quite amazing, but incredibly expensive.

In other news, I managed to get a French phone. It was quite the acheivement, and took some waiting. The Orange shop in France is odd. You arrive, sign in, then get called to be served. Like in a doctors. Most odd. Anyway, I now have a black and green cheap-ass French phone. Avec Orange. So tout va bien.

I can't think what else has happened today. General exploring, more drinking in french bars/pubs. All very good. C'est tout pour maintenant!

I'm so ghetto.

Well, my arrival in France has been a safe one. Despite flying on a plane with propellers. The weirdest thing happened in the airport. I bumped into someone I hadn't seen since 6th form. It was most irregular. Turns out that her wife is going to do a placement thingy in Rennes, so it was all good. We parted ways at "République" and I boarded "le métro" to Villejean. I know this is all boring, but it excited me. And scared me. Not a single ERASMUS student in sight. I asked at reception, and got sent on a slight tour of campus, to find some room to sign some forms in. All with case, naturally via stairs. Then some Frenchman took me to find "5 rue du Maine". After trying to get peoples tickets as they come out of the métro. Naturally. This was to no avail, so we settled on walking it. I arrived, signed some forms, got told I need to go to CLC bank for an account and for insurance, then got sent on my way somewhere else. "Square de Guyenne". The woman patronised me because she asked me something off-guard which I wasn't prepared for, so naturally means that I am stupid. "A DROIT, PUIS A GAUCHE. D'ACCORD?". Then, I arrived. I had low expectations anyway, but nothing could quite prepare me for this. I live in a 12 storey building. On the 2nd floor. The room is basic, but it's standable. Most of today was spent solving the conundrum of "why won't my only plug socket work?!" or generally wandering. Finally, my socket works. I looked up how to say "plug socket", then when I went to ask, had forgotten how to say it, so I spent a great deal of time trying to describe it. Not good. The French officially think that I am stupid.

Anyway, anyway, anyway. The room. It's basic. This I'll accept. The kitchen, for 32 people, contains 4 small fridges, 2 sinks, a microwave and 2 hobs. Actually tiny. Then we have the toilets. I don't know what the French have against toilet seats, but I'm pretty sure that it's unfounded. They're lovely and comfortable, as opposed to sitting on the toilet rim. On a similar note, what have they got against carpet? And curtains?

I bought my first baguette today. It was disappointing. I also found "real milk". It smells a bit iffy, but tastes like blue top milk. It was odd. I might stick to uht in future. Ugh.

To make up for the ghetto-ness, we went into Rennes this evening (Rob and myself) and bumped into 2 Irish girls I met at registration, plus an American girl. We generally drank, and conversed, so all is well.

Friends: check. Accomodation: check. France: check.

A bientotttt