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Five months in France. Five months. From an icy winter to a now ridiculously hot summer. Five months. Five months of living overseas for the first time. Five months. Five month of being surrounded by the French language. Five months.
And what have I discovered in these five months?
• That it's best not to convert euros into dollars. This proves to be incredibly depressing and you begin to doubt whether they actually want the 4 euro coffee, as really, would you pay 10 dollars for one at home?
• That sitting outside at cafes is not for those who want fresh air. Sit inside and roast, or, sit outside and get lung cancer.
• The extent to which striking is built into the culture; it's just what you do here. Talking to people in parades or demonstrations is rather eye opening. Sometimes they have no idea what they are yelling or marching about… more of a question of 'pour quoi pas?'
• That the French wear jackets in 35 degree heat. This is fine. It's the fact they all look cool and poised when I'm melting and my hair is proving that humidity is not for the curly-haired that really gets me.
• That nothing beats crossing over the Rhone at night.
• That learning a language is a slow process.
• That nothing is open on a Sunday. And actually, best not to rely on anything being open Monday morning. Or sometimes on Wednesdays. And also, Friday afternoons.
• That the worlds best chocolate is to be found from a tea shop near Hotel de Ville
• That some French words or phrases just come out even when talking in English.
• That there may not be a beach in Lyon but the riverside is still full of old men in Speedos.
• That the residence building I had the luxury of living in had Turkish toilets, ceilings that were peeling and sprinkled you with white paint as you showered, terrifying cleaning ladies, a lingering smell of stale cabbage soup, incredibly rude reception staff, the worlds slowest internet but an amazingly friendly atmosphere and students from actually every country you could think of and I wouldn't have lived anywhere else.
• That the French love McDonalds, "McDo", but are all still skinny. How does that work?
• That NZ has embraced the gluten-free trend. France, on the other hand, has definitely not.
• That you must have a little wheelie trolley to go to the market. Carrying things in bags is just not what you do.
• That the pick up and drop off bike system is amazing. Except when the bike has no brakes. Or flat tires. Or a seat that wiggles. Or brakes that moo when you stop. Or only one gear so you have to peddle frantically to move a metre.
• That the French just don't do customer service.
• That university exams are more a test of who comes up with the best cheating methods. Taking in papers and putting them on the ground next to your desk is not even very crafty. But actually, seeing as no one walks around of even looks out over the class, no sneakiness is needed! My personal favourite is "You time is now up, pens down." "Oh, just ten more minutes." "Ok then, if you want."
• That one day it can be 16 degrees and raining. The next can be 35 degrees and sticky.
• That 5 months is long enough to unlearn looking right when crossing the road but not enough to learn to look left.
• How much I take being close to the ocean for granted at home.
• That paying 5 NZ dollars for a miniscule cup of coffee has to be a rip off. And while on this subject, since when does a cappuccino come with a mountain of cream on top?
And finally, that 5 months is long enough to meet amazing people, to make friends that really made the experience what it was. That will give you an amazing send off. One that includes gluten free cookies, my bags being carried for me, faces pressed to the train windows (to the horror of my fellow passengers), friends that will run along as the train leaves. Tears. Laughter. Much more than an exchange, an experience to remember.
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