Now, back to what I am sure is bamboozling you all. "Hope, what do you mean someone stole your student identity?" Well, pals, are we ready for story time? After nine weeks without my student card, I decided to give up. They knew I was here, attending classes and exams - check me out - I was growing sick of the sentence "Il n'est pas disponible" (It's not available). This theory was working out for me, I was living the high life, coffee from the machine, baguette from the law faculty cafeteria and I was looking fierce and French - no laughing. But then the bombshell came. An email from the head of the Erasmus programme at university telling me my student card had been stolen. "Oh" I thought. "Why would someone do that?" Emailing back the lecturer, she informed me that someone had been attending classes under my name in the law and science faculties. Part of me was confused and slightly scared that someone was pretending to be me, but of course, I was hugely flattered. Me! A muse! To a thief and rebel of learning, sticking it to the man, and I am the face and name of the operation! Though in the back of my mind there is something a bit Dog the Bounty Hunter about it, this is another reason why I love Strasbourg. Someone - one hopes a female, since my face is on that card - has gone underground in the name of education, and for nearly an entire semester, gotten away with it. I applaud you, you rabble-rousing science and law renegade for actually succeeding. But I'd rather like my student card back now, please. I want something to stick into my scrapbook.
Sunday, 24 November 2013
Christmas and Other Reasons I Love Strasbourg
Like the holiday season itself, the minus degrees landed in StrazzyB with a thud (I fell over, the shame) these past few weeks. I was rudely awoken at 9am Friday morning to witness the rising of The Star of Bethlehem in the square outside my window, and just like that two hours later when I eventually did wake up, Christmas was here! For all its oddities; milk in a tube, Sunday slumpday and angry cyclists, Strasbourg knows how to deliver Christmas. Though the "capital of Christmas'" markets may not be open until this coming week, the preparations have been going on for about a fortnight and the Christmas fanatic inside me is begging for a glass of vin chaud and roasted chestnuts. Which leads me on to reasons I really love StrazzyB. Though it was cruel and mean at the start of my stay, holding me back from finding accommodation, confusing me with its university mumbo jumbo and this week, having someone steal my student identity (more later), it's pretty top notch. I am not going to be groundbreaking by saying how beautiful it is, or how quaint and unique, you all already knew that. Nope, I love Strasbourg because nowhere else in the world I can imagine, can you get a kebab at any hour of the day or night and be asked if you want a side of curry wurst. Except maybe Germany, but I am not in Germany, so I do not know. Nowhere else will you find a café that opens at 7am, and closes at 11pm...on a Sunday. And I will happily bet good money that nowhere else will you find such good pretzels. Alright, so food is on my mind a lot. But I thought it might make Strazzy sound a bit odd if I told you about the punk who wanders around permanently drunk with a boombox under his arm, and the man with no nose who plays saxophone. They're génial too. My madcap capers and experiences are seriously great. A special shout out to the man from the kebab shop, who wishes me a "BONJOUR HELLO MY BRITISH FRIEND!" every morning as I pass by.
Now, back to what I am sure is bamboozling you all. "Hope, what do you mean someone stole your student identity?" Well, pals, are we ready for story time? After nine weeks without my student card, I decided to give up. They knew I was here, attending classes and exams - check me out - I was growing sick of the sentence "Il n'est pas disponible" (It's not available). This theory was working out for me, I was living the high life, coffee from the machine, baguette from the law faculty cafeteria and I was looking fierce and French - no laughing. But then the bombshell came. An email from the head of the Erasmus programme at university telling me my student card had been stolen. "Oh" I thought. "Why would someone do that?" Emailing back the lecturer, she informed me that someone had been attending classes under my name in the law and science faculties. Part of me was confused and slightly scared that someone was pretending to be me, but of course, I was hugely flattered. Me! A muse! To a thief and rebel of learning, sticking it to the man, and I am the face and name of the operation! Though in the back of my mind there is something a bit Dog the Bounty Hunter about it, this is another reason why I love Strasbourg. Someone - one hopes a female, since my face is on that card - has gone underground in the name of education, and for nearly an entire semester, gotten away with it. I applaud you, you rabble-rousing science and law renegade for actually succeeding. But I'd rather like my student card back now, please. I want something to stick into my scrapbook.
Now, back to what I am sure is bamboozling you all. "Hope, what do you mean someone stole your student identity?" Well, pals, are we ready for story time? After nine weeks without my student card, I decided to give up. They knew I was here, attending classes and exams - check me out - I was growing sick of the sentence "Il n'est pas disponible" (It's not available). This theory was working out for me, I was living the high life, coffee from the machine, baguette from the law faculty cafeteria and I was looking fierce and French - no laughing. But then the bombshell came. An email from the head of the Erasmus programme at university telling me my student card had been stolen. "Oh" I thought. "Why would someone do that?" Emailing back the lecturer, she informed me that someone had been attending classes under my name in the law and science faculties. Part of me was confused and slightly scared that someone was pretending to be me, but of course, I was hugely flattered. Me! A muse! To a thief and rebel of learning, sticking it to the man, and I am the face and name of the operation! Though in the back of my mind there is something a bit Dog the Bounty Hunter about it, this is another reason why I love Strasbourg. Someone - one hopes a female, since my face is on that card - has gone underground in the name of education, and for nearly an entire semester, gotten away with it. I applaud you, you rabble-rousing science and law renegade for actually succeeding. But I'd rather like my student card back now, please. I want something to stick into my scrapbook.
Thursday, 14 November 2013
"Ugh I'm so sick of being stared at on public transport!"
Have you or a loved one ever said this sentence before? If the answer is yes (and it will inevitably be) you're probably a student living in France! Yes that's right ladies and gentlemen, on average, 10 out of 10 Erasmus students will complain that the old lady on the tram is tutting at their skirt, or her husband isn't, if you catch my drift. But fear not, for here at HMCS Industries, we're here to help! Just following these ten simple rules to surviving life in France, and you'll go from obvious exchange student, to Français(e) in no time!
1. YOU ARE NUMBER ONE. PUSH.
The public transport system over here in France can be a tricky one to figure out. Tram delays, confusing bus routes and constant road works, the confusion never ends! To deal with the endless issues of getting around in StrazzyB, I don't make the mistake of renting a bike, oh no. You will be far more respected and approved of if you just lose all sense of Britishness, queueing and all, and just PUSH THROUGH THE QUEUES FOR THE TRAM. Like your life depended on it. And when I say queues, I mean the slow moving glob of people shuffling about in a little group attempting to get onto the tram. They are all doing the same. So push.
2. IF IN DOUBT, BUY EIGHT BAGUETTES AT ONCE
It's a cliché for a reason, the more baguettes the better, mes amis! The bulk buying of the French favourite, in my opinion is half the reason for rule 1 - when Nana Genevieve comes trundling along with her arms stacked with baguettes, she's looking for a prime spot on that tram, and God help you if any snap in half when she uses them as battering rams...
3. STAY OUT OF THE CYCLE LANES
I learnt this the hard way. Cyclists hate pedestrians. Cyclists especially hate pedestrians blocking the cycle lanes and will verbally abuse them in a very angry French spiel. If you are going to do it, have a "ta geule!" up your sleeve. And then run. Very fast.
4. SAY YES.
Not to like, robbing a bank, or the ladies of the night circling the tram stops at questionable hours, but to the nights out, the people hawking free magazines, the bus into Germany, the cheap Milka and silly hats in Germany and the ridiculous lectures. I don't think I'd be half as happy as I am if I'd have gone "no, I'll pass on the tarte flambée, thanks". Yes man handing out leaflets about a pie eating competition, I'll go, and yes madam with her clipboard asking if my experience in the Orange shop was good, let's have a chinwag shall we?
5. NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF TEA
When Sundays set in and everything seems a little blue, a good cup of tea will literally lift your spirits through the roof. It gets cold in North-east France, and as I sit here, with my hat on, curled under my duvet typing with mittens on, I thank Brigitte Bardot herself that I bought a kettle.
6. EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
I write this particular rule after a very unexpected evening. A blown fusebox, call to the landlord, panic to my mother and an hour later, I am in a hotel. Yes, only I would have an issue so inexplicable that I am not able to sleep in my own apartment. Did I mention this all happened after a lecture in which a young man discussed the future of "ladies of the night" and the numerous reasons that they will one day be replaced by robots? No? Yeah, that's cause I wasn't expecting it either.
7. TAKE EVERYTHING IN YOUR STRIDE
I have been nanoseconds away from being ran over by a bike so many times in France. Approached by homeless men asking for money, and been on the receiving end of a very drunk deranged woman on the tram. This is now my life. And what can I do about it? Take it on the chin. As my evening would show, France throws anything and everything at you, usually fabulous bread and cheese, but on the occasion that you get stuck with no electricity, you've gotta use the France-tra (remember that?) and say EH, THAT'S FRANCE!
8. DOCUMENT. EVERYTHING.
Seriously. I don't think a day has gone by here in France without me taking a photo of something cool or interesting or funny. No matter how big or small, from the awesome Cathedral to graffiti that stated "WALTER WHITE IS HEISENBERG" I have got snaps of it all. And share them! A quick email to parents or friends can not only cause some serious jealousy of everyone back in Blighty, but looking back on snaps you take can make you go "ah, that was fun, so glad I said yes to that tarte flambée!"
9. IT'S NOT WEIRD TO GO ALONE
Introverts rejoice! Whilst in the UK, you might get a raised eyebrow or sympathetic glance from an elderly lady as you eat at a restaurant alone, even going to the cinema on your seul gets a few glances. But not here, thank you France! This weekend, Eddard Stark, his crew and myself spent around three hours in a café, completely blending in. Ahhh yes. Whilst I am a firm believer in the tourist lifestyle, sometimes nothing can beat a good day out on your own. Does this make me sad? Nope, I like to think it makes me a local.
10. IGNORE ALL THESE RULES
Yeah okay so blood, sweat and tears went into creating this blog post, over three days of planning and asking people what I should include, but it's fine, REEEEEALLY, just sack the whole thing off. In all seriousness (new for me, I know) everyone's year abroad is different, and when I go to Spain, I'm 99.9% sure it'll be different too. If you take anything away from this, it should really be the following three things: say yes to bread, buy a woolly jumper and make sure you ring your mum at least once a week.
1. YOU ARE NUMBER ONE. PUSH.
The public transport system over here in France can be a tricky one to figure out. Tram delays, confusing bus routes and constant road works, the confusion never ends! To deal with the endless issues of getting around in StrazzyB, I don't make the mistake of renting a bike, oh no. You will be far more respected and approved of if you just lose all sense of Britishness, queueing and all, and just PUSH THROUGH THE QUEUES FOR THE TRAM. Like your life depended on it. And when I say queues, I mean the slow moving glob of people shuffling about in a little group attempting to get onto the tram. They are all doing the same. So push.
2. IF IN DOUBT, BUY EIGHT BAGUETTES AT ONCE
It's a cliché for a reason, the more baguettes the better, mes amis! The bulk buying of the French favourite, in my opinion is half the reason for rule 1 - when Nana Genevieve comes trundling along with her arms stacked with baguettes, she's looking for a prime spot on that tram, and God help you if any snap in half when she uses them as battering rams...
3. STAY OUT OF THE CYCLE LANES
I learnt this the hard way. Cyclists hate pedestrians. Cyclists especially hate pedestrians blocking the cycle lanes and will verbally abuse them in a very angry French spiel. If you are going to do it, have a "ta geule!" up your sleeve. And then run. Very fast.
4. SAY YES.
Not to like, robbing a bank, or the ladies of the night circling the tram stops at questionable hours, but to the nights out, the people hawking free magazines, the bus into Germany, the cheap Milka and silly hats in Germany and the ridiculous lectures. I don't think I'd be half as happy as I am if I'd have gone "no, I'll pass on the tarte flambée, thanks". Yes man handing out leaflets about a pie eating competition, I'll go, and yes madam with her clipboard asking if my experience in the Orange shop was good, let's have a chinwag shall we?
5. NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF TEA
When Sundays set in and everything seems a little blue, a good cup of tea will literally lift your spirits through the roof. It gets cold in North-east France, and as I sit here, with my hat on, curled under my duvet typing with mittens on, I thank Brigitte Bardot herself that I bought a kettle.
6. EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
I write this particular rule after a very unexpected evening. A blown fusebox, call to the landlord, panic to my mother and an hour later, I am in a hotel. Yes, only I would have an issue so inexplicable that I am not able to sleep in my own apartment. Did I mention this all happened after a lecture in which a young man discussed the future of "ladies of the night" and the numerous reasons that they will one day be replaced by robots? No? Yeah, that's cause I wasn't expecting it either.
7. TAKE EVERYTHING IN YOUR STRIDE
I have been nanoseconds away from being ran over by a bike so many times in France. Approached by homeless men asking for money, and been on the receiving end of a very drunk deranged woman on the tram. This is now my life. And what can I do about it? Take it on the chin. As my evening would show, France throws anything and everything at you, usually fabulous bread and cheese, but on the occasion that you get stuck with no electricity, you've gotta use the France-tra (remember that?) and say EH, THAT'S FRANCE!
8. DOCUMENT. EVERYTHING.
Seriously. I don't think a day has gone by here in France without me taking a photo of something cool or interesting or funny. No matter how big or small, from the awesome Cathedral to graffiti that stated "WALTER WHITE IS HEISENBERG" I have got snaps of it all. And share them! A quick email to parents or friends can not only cause some serious jealousy of everyone back in Blighty, but looking back on snaps you take can make you go "ah, that was fun, so glad I said yes to that tarte flambée!"
9. IT'S NOT WEIRD TO GO ALONE
Introverts rejoice! Whilst in the UK, you might get a raised eyebrow or sympathetic glance from an elderly lady as you eat at a restaurant alone, even going to the cinema on your seul gets a few glances. But not here, thank you France! This weekend, Eddard Stark, his crew and myself spent around three hours in a café, completely blending in. Ahhh yes. Whilst I am a firm believer in the tourist lifestyle, sometimes nothing can beat a good day out on your own. Does this make me sad? Nope, I like to think it makes me a local.
10. IGNORE ALL THESE RULES
Yeah okay so blood, sweat and tears went into creating this blog post, over three days of planning and asking people what I should include, but it's fine, REEEEEALLY, just sack the whole thing off. In all seriousness (new for me, I know) everyone's year abroad is different, and when I go to Spain, I'm 99.9% sure it'll be different too. If you take anything away from this, it should really be the following three things: say yes to bread, buy a woolly jumper and make sure you ring your mum at least once a week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)