let me introduce you to 'le roi'

After the immense amount of optimism and positivity I've had on here in recent days, I'm afraid to announce I come bearing a miserable mood.

To be honest, that was a bit melodramatic. The thing is, after having a good old 'bitch' and 'rant' if you like, in French with Sylvie (my host mum) about the incident that has spurred my sudden annoyance, I'm feeling slightly more hopeful now, but I'm still going to complain to all of you, if you don't mind. What's that? You love it when I whine? In that case, full steam ahead...

Yesterday I turned up at school after a somewhat dreary, yet relaxing, three days in bed. My pounding headache was gone, I had managed to keep my eyes open for a full 2 hours already and I was quite happy to see my friends (although I can't really say the same about them... I guess, understandably, when life goes on when Eloise is bedridden) However, my mood completely and suddenly took a turn for the worst when one of them announced that they had to take me to the principal for 'a talk'...

A talk...

with the principal...

in French. 

As if this wasn't intimidating enough, you should know now that le proviseur is one of the most terrifying people I've met in my life. Who knows, maybe it's just the fact that he's a French principal, but the way he leads you to believe he's a young, lenient and hip kind of guy, and then shoots you down faster than you can utter a hopeful"Salut", well that's just damn deceptive to say the least.

 Let me tell you this, my friends, I went in there nervous, yes, but also a little bit relieved, because I thought that after a full 2 months of being here, I was finally going to be asked how I was getting along. During the half an hour I was made to wait for him to rear his ugly head, I was devising little answers in my own head to his imaginary questions, such as "Are you fitting in well with others in your class?" or "How are you finding the language barrier?" heck, I was even ready to talk about how much I was missing everyone in New Zealand, if things got that far.

 I must admit, I was feeling a little bit excited and proud to be able to show him my new found conversational skills considering that on my first day at Berthollet, when he introduced himself, all I could do was stare blankly back, because I hadn't understood a thing. All in all, I have to say, my very first impression of him is still the one I hold today (although it's gotten considerably worse) as in this moment, he thought it appropriate to raise his eyebrows in outrage at Sylvie and express superiorly "Bah, elle comprends rien!" "Ah, she doesn't understand a thing!" 

Yesterday was no exception. I walked into his office and without even greeting me, the delightful man sent another one of his scathing phrases my way, claiming "Alors, tu comprends le Français, mais tu fais rien en classe?" "So, you understand French, but you do nothing in class?"

Wow, hello Monsieur.You've-Only-Met-Me-Twice-Yet-Somehow-Know-Everything-About-Me...

First of all, since when have I understood French? That has got to be the broadest generalisation I've heard in a long, long time. Just because I am able to pick certain words out and guess what the rest of the phrase is does not mean I understand French. I wish what it was true, I honestly do, but in actual fact, I've got a long way to go before I can agree with this statement. One does not just come to France for 2 months and magically understand French, c'est pas possible, je te jure.

Secondly, while it's true I don't do work like the other students in class (this would require me to understand French and, well, quite frankly see above) I certainly don't do 'nothing'. He completely doesn't understand how extremely difficult it is to sit through lessons and try to learn stuff I've never even heard of in my life, in another language... Listening to French every single second of every day is work in itself I tell you, even if it doesn't show with 2/20 averages on paper.

To be honest, standing there in that little office, with this hard-hearted French man (did I mention he's only about 30, which makes his self-acclaimed supremacy even worse... I mean, hellooo, you were practically a student here yesterday!) in front of me, spitting out one discouraging point after another, made me feel completely and utterly small.

I tried to explain in the best French I could muster how hard I'm finding lessons and how in my opinion, for the first 3 months at the very least, I'm at school primarily to listen and learn the language, which obviously, considering I was actually talking to him and not having another 'possum in the headlights' incident, it was making some sort of difference.

He actually had the nerve to tell me that he didn't think I had made any progress with my French. Seriously? You've met me one other time, and I literally said nothing but "Bonjour" and "Au revoir" and yet you think you can come to that sort of conclusion? Blimmin' heck, this man needs to sort out his priorities!

He then went to tell me that since he was "kind enough to accept me into the school in the first place" (oh wow, talk about making me feel welcome), he expects me to do as much work as all his other students, which coincidentally means learning algebra and the rules behind social welfare... Not only have these people been learning subjects like maths and economics their whole lives, they also have the advantage of, you know, being French, and somehow, when you put me into this situation, I think that this is a slightly more than unrealistic expectation. Don't you agree?

By this point, I was seriously hoping for the ground to open up, swallow, and then deposit me anywhere (even Porirua) in New Zealand where I could just take a moment to breathe and relax. I was on the absolute brink of tears, but because I had already stood my ground pretty well in front of my opponent, I didn't want my fair arguments to go to waste by letting my facade down completely.

I walked out of his office feeling like the slightest look from anyone would send me over the rails... At this point, I pretty much had two options, 1. go and have a cry somewhere in the hopes of feeling a bit better, or 2. suck it up and go to French class which I was already over 30 minutes late for. I knew very well what I wanted to do, but unfortunately I also knew that skipping class wasn't going to put me on the principal's good books, so I did the thing I was really, really dreading, and quite frankly, in the end, the rest of my day wasn't so bad.

Naturally, Sylvie and Michel, as well as Jacqueline and Bernard, think that le proviseur is a complete a-hole (to be blunt). I've definitely had an insight into the firey nature of French people when they're discussing something they're passionate about and it's nice to know that I'm not the only one who thinks this dude is being entirely irrational. I'm here to learn French after all, not learn how to find the square root of pie (I know I sound absolutely pretentious here, but that's my lack of maths knowledge for you)...

After talking with Sylvie, we've both agreed that labelling my new best friend 'le roi' is a fair judgement, which is actually really funny, because all in all, he shares quite a few qualities with my French teacher, aka la reine, and I can't help but think they seem to be working as a team in all of this. After all, it really does strike me as odd that this little meeting between me and the principal only came about the day after the teachers got together to talk about their students, where I'm told Mme. Fremond had less than favourable things to say about me... a little suspicious, non? 

Anyway, all of this brings me to the conclusion that le roi and la reine are having a secret romance and are planning to take over the world one lumpy jersey and bushy hair at a time.

That is all from me, I feel I've successfully done my daily dose of complaining! Over and out.

Yours truly,
me, Eloise x

do i live up to Claude François' Eloise?

Hello my lovelies, this is just a really short post in the hopes of easing my guilt a bit and to explain my absence for the past few days... Here's the truth, I've been busy being as sick as a dog and haven't had the mental ability for anything but reading, sleeping and watching Gossip Girl.

I haven't left the house since Saturday night and I'm going a bit stir crazy. Luckily the weather has been grey, grey, grey so I haven't felt the need to be guiltier than I already am for being such a bed sausage for over 48 hours...

That is literally all I'm going to write, how strange of me to use so little words and feel fine about it.

For now, here's something to help you pass the time since I haven't taken up the usual 10 or so minutes I usually am able to do.

A little blast from the past and a reminder of me all at the same time...

The Barry Ryan version, in English, is also available, but seeing I am in France and the backing dancers are much more hilarious than the pouty, spider-eyed 'Eloise' in the other version, I thought this one was the obvious choice.

I'll back back, hopefully with more to say, tomorrow, and that's a promise!

Yours truly,
me, Eloise x

spring has sprung, and with it, my appetite for brighter clothes

Fridays always have the potential to be rather pleasant days, as they're the end of the week and, in my books, the official start of the weekend (although not so much for me anymore, with school on Saturday mornings...) and much to my delight, today was no exception.

I awoke at the youthful hour of 6:30 to see a warm shaft of sunlight peeking through the crack in my shutters, and to hear the birds, awake as anything, singing a lovely little morning tune right outside my window. Seeing that for the past two months I have been greeted with a scene completely opposite to this (darkness, silence, snow) I'm regarding this as the official start of Spring!

Considering I only got about 3 hours of sleep last night (no, I wasn't being a naughty little night owl, for some reason my brain just wouldn't allow my body to drift off...) I wasn't too lethargic for the necessary early start, which I'll admit I usually consider god-awful, and started my day off nicely with a bowl of coffee (don't worry, not real coffee, something that I'm told is better for you, with breakfast cereals mixed in and stuff...) a pain au chocolat, and half a beautiful, ruby coloured grapefruit. Delicious.

School wasn't much of a drag as my second class was cancelled today and I only had to endure 2 hours of volley ball (when I say endure, I don't mean it in a bad way as, in actual fact, it wasn't all that bad, unlike my hand-eye coordination skills...) and then I had the rest of the day to myself. Nothing pleases me more than free time and sun shine in France!

Here's a list of what I busied myself doing, because I have a habit of writing things with too much description, and quite frankly my dears, I like lists.

1. WENT shopping. The only thing to do when the sun comes out is to buy clothes to suit the new, and, do I even have to say it, much welcomed, warmer temperature... Wouldn't you agree? Yeah, that's what I thought. No one can help a touch of shopping every now and then, can they?

Jersey - H&M, jeans - Naf Nad, scarf - GDM,  nail-polish - Sephora

Finally succumbed to the neon trend... 

2. MET up with my host mum's, best friend's, son (phew, what a mouthful) where I took on the role of an English tutor for an hour. When I say this, all I really did was talk and listen to a perfectly friendly French boy speak, in English, on a pier au bord du lac d'Annecy while simultaneously basking in beautiful sunlight. No complaints there, it was nice to have a break from French and see someone else in my position for once!

Are we actually in Wellington?

A feathery friend!

3. ATE a delicious ham and raclette (a special melted cheese specific to the Haute-Savoie department of France) panini for lunch, on a park bench in the sun.

4. TRIED to buy the white converses I've been coveting for bloody weeks now from a shoe shop that was closing down, therefore having a massive sale, but they had run out... Upon hearing this, Michel, my host dad, proceeded to drive me to every shoe shop he knew, but didn't quite understand that I wasn't desperate for just any shoes, I was desperate for these shoes, but we had a nice time anyway. At one point, we returned to the car where he handed me the keys and said "Ouvrir!" (open), so I put the key in the keyhole and attempted to obey his command, however, it wasn't quite working as expected and it was only when I looked up to see him in complete hysterics that I realised that it wasn't our car at all, but in fact a complete stranger's... Oh how he loves to make a fool of me! I swear, that man never puts an end to his antics! In the end, however, I found the right car, returned home, and bought my beloved all stars online.

Don't blame me, these cars are all over France!

All in all, not bad for a day's work, if you ask me... not bad at all.

But for now, I'm off. I may not have been very tired this morning after such lack of sleep, but I sure started feeling it around 5 o'clock! 5 hours later, here I am... I never learn, do I? 

Bonne nuit, or rather if you're in New Zealand, bon matin... 

Yours truly, 

me, Eloise x

here I am, changing my mind again

So I know I said yesterday that I would write in every second day, but I have reason to give you all a quick post, because I'm feeling really quite optimistic at the time being.

Recently I've noticed a huge improvement in my French comprehension and it's truly a reassuring thing. I won't lie, I was having fleeting moments of self-doubt, where I would spend a while with the dreadful thought that I would never learn French as a heavy lump refusing to leave the back of my mind. I suppose it didn't help that people around me were also expressing skepticism (I won't name any names here just in case) and that the possibility of me taking night time French lessons had come up in conversation, something that to me felt like more of a bad idea than a good one, considering how exhausting I usually am in the evenings after being surrounded by French all day as it is.

However, I'm coming out of my shell more and more each day and things at school with my friends are really good right now, meaning I'm finding it a lot less of a daunting thought speaking with people, and as a result of this, I'm starting to feel less pathetic and more like myself, an extremely welcome adjustment!

Much to my delight, a few of my classes were cancelled this morning (unlike New Zealand, reliever teachers don't exist here in France, so no teacher = no class) and all of this means I got to start school at 3pm, something that's completely unheard of back home! I slept in until 12 which I'd usually consider a good thing, but I was actually rather annoyed with myself because I had planned to skype Sam (I can't even remember when we last did this!) but blew all chances of that, unfortunately. I suppose I needed the sleep though, however much I love having a proper conversation with someone every now and then.

Since it's still reasonably early and I've got a bit of time to spare before heading to bed, I'm going take this moment to show you a few photos from recently, since my blog is lacking visual components, I feel.

Making the most of a sunny day two weeks ago and taking a break from French!

What I wore on my 17th birthday... next day Sylvie, my host mum, comes home with the same coat!

Funny trees in the courtyard at my school. Is it just me or do these also remind you of naked whomping willows?

A museum in Saint Etienne, where I went with my class on a school trip last Friday. 

Bernard (a friend of my host parents) being a joker

The view from a 33 meter high keep at a 15th century century Chateau I visited yesterday

And the courtyard... the table and chairs remind me of the ones in my garden back home.

A letter from Sam that finally arrived today, only a month after he sent it!

I know it hasn't been a particularly interesting or funny post, but I really just had the need to tell you about my recent status, because I think that I often come off as annoyed, unhappy or just a bit of a downright complainer in what I write on this blog, and it's not true! Well, most of the time... put me in front of la reine in French class and I might regret writing that.

Anyway, I start school at the normal time tomorrow, and despite having only 2 hours of volleyball, I should probably go to sleep now so I can be well en forme demain...

Yours truly,
me, Eloise x

P.s. It was the first day of Spring yesterday, but regardless of the date, the weather hasn't really changed... still cold enough for scarfs and big coats... here's hoping it warms up soon!

sometimes it takes a lot of organisation to be me, Eloise

It makes me laugh how I've had this blog for a mere 4 days and I've already gone against my word of writing a post every day. What I've discovered is that regardless of writing them during class, it actually takes a fair chunk of time (about 3 hours) to type each one out and have it up to scratch for the internet. It's not even that it's a particularly strenuous task, and in reality it shouldn't take as long as it does, but in fact, I'm an extremely pedantic person when it comes to putting down my thoughts on paper and being my own worst critic is a very time consuming job, trust me!

So, after spending far too long creating Monday's post and heading into slumber a fair bit past midnight, I had a bit of a mixed up morning-mind bright and early yesterday... As my alarm sounded at the crisp and arduous time of 7:45am, me, Eloise, snuggly and cosy in my bed, had no choice but to force myself up and my eyes open, and remove myself from what I remember to be especially  sweet dreams. You may be thinking "Oh, very well.. that's not insanely early, quit your complaining!" but the truth is, my friends, if you had been paying any attention in my last blog post (assuming you even made it past the shocking truth of French algebra) you may just realise that I start school at 10am on Tuesday, and that waking up 2 hours and 15 minutes in advance was a completely unnecessary notion, even for me, the girl who is required to set aside at least half an hour for deciding on what to wear for that day (having a wardrobe full of clothes is not the same as having something to wear, darlings. Je te jure...) Anyway, if you did happen to notice this little fact, I can tell you know, you're one step ahead of me, because thinking it was actually 8:45am, a sleepy Eloise prepared to prepare herself for the day (yes, preparation preparation.. what can I say? Sometimes it takes a lot of organisation to be me) It was only when the lovely Sam all the way in New Zealand, bless his spritely brain, asked me why I had to get ready so early when the start of school was virtually in the distant future that I realised what was up (apart from me of course)...

It was 7:45am!

School was starting at 10am!

For any normal person whose brain doesn't resemble Eloise's bedroom at the Plaza (aka a great, big, confusing, pink mess) this realisation would have been the simple and welcome end to such pointless uncertainty, but for someone like me who was dealing with a severe case of what I like to call the plaza-bedroom-brain (P.B brain for short), well then there's nothing to it but zippity zap clink clank, hang up that phone, the madness continued!

it's so accurate it could almost be an x-ray...

You see, I began to heavily doubt myself... distressing thoughts of "Do I usually require this much time to get myself ready in the morning?" or "Do I actually start school at 8 today?" and my personal favourite "Am I even awake right now?!" started whizzing around my muddled mind until I realised that it was probably time to calm myself and trust that nothing exceptional was about to go down.

The ironic thing is that despite waking up far too early, I was actually late for school (only by a few minutes, but for irony's sake we'll let it pass... seriously though, how do I manage it?) My first class just so happened to be French with my favourite person ever, and the fact that I was so fatiguée and confuse made putting up with her poodle head, sweat patches (how did I forget to mention her lack of deodorant in my last post?!) and another, surprise surprise, lumpy jersey and baggy jeans duo, for a whole hour that much more unbearable.

I didn't have much of a blog prepared for yesterday though, because while I had about 6 hours of lessons to fill time in, I found myself actually doing a bit of work instead. I feel a bit pathetic saying that, actually, because when I use the words 'doing work' what I mean to say is 'copying notes off the board so I don't feel so guilty about always writing in English when I'm meant to be learning French' However, I can't help but feel sort of productive from my latest pursuit, because while I don't actually understand all of what I'm copying down, practising written French must be helping in some way or another, no matter how small.

Unfortunately History is the only class where this 'work' is possible because all the teacher ever does is show documentaries and prepare slideshows for the class to copy notes off. She's someone I can't quite make my mind up about to be honest... I mean sure, she's a bit lazy with her teaching method and wears green eyeliner to match her hand knitted jumper that appears as if it might have first been intended for a child (she's plus petite than me, even), but she seems nice enough. One thing I'm sure of, however, is that she hasn't related me to a deaf person yet (I'm still utterly offended by that) and in any case, that's a gold star in my books!

The thing that makes me kind of sad about this particular class though (apart from the fact that whatever you learn in history at school is near to always a tiny bit tear-jerking) is that the topic right now is World War II (no surprises here) which is something I've always found endlessly interesting, no matter how depressing it is. However, apart from the death statistics, I can't understand a thing. I guess in a way I'm quite fortunate that this particular teacher has a very visual teaching style, because at least I have something to look at for the hour long class. Nonetheless, there are a few problems I've encountered with this situation... Since the language primarily used in schools here in France is, well, French, and because I'm still at the stage of recognising certain words but not understanding the topic of the dialogue in general, my attention span with these documentaries (as much as I love these beautiful bundles of facts and joy) isn't very long, and usually after about 5 or 10 minutes, I avert my gaze elsewhere and do some observing, something I've grown rather good at recently.

Here's where the second problem is introduced into the equation (is it just me or is this beginning to sound a lot like maths?)...

Twice now, my attention has fallen upon something in class that has caused me to do something completely inappropriate when watching a movie about german concentration camps... I think you know where this one is heading.

You know those moments where something just has to be the slightest bit funny, but because you know very well that you really can not laugh in this moment and your body thinks it's a great idea to plot against you by somehow intensifying the laugh-creators in your brain, thus making said slightly funny thing approximately 84737957% funnier and rendering it impossible to hold back your laughter? Phew. Yeah, I know you've experienced this. You know exactly what I'm talking about and lying to me here is not going to erase the memory no matter how much you wish it could be so!

So pretty much, I think this is where I shall reveal all and show you what a horrible person I am... As I glimpsed away from the brutal scene displayed on the projector at the front of the class, I saw one of my friends in the front row, head perched comfortably on his hand, eyes closed and mouth ever so slightly open, completely carefree in an angelic snooze... In hindsight, I guess it's not as funny as I remember it being but I guess because I was having one of those 'moments' where my humour deciphering centres in my brain were working at full speed, I seriously was finding it hard to get a hold of myself. I suppose it didn't help that I also had a pair of Frenchies whispering and having a bit of a giggle themselves directly behind me (there's just something about a french laugh I tell you!) but trust me, it was not an easy moment to be in. What makes it worse is that the same thing happened again this morning when the girl beside me was having more fun playing on her phone than learning about nazis, and would really obviously cough whenever her little game made a noise... Why she didn't just turn it on silent beats me, but what can I say really? The French love to have a good laugh, no matter how appropriate the time for laughing.

All in all, I feel I must take this time to give you a word of advice and at the same time sound my apology for seeming so insensitive...

There's nothing funny about the Holocaust, I promise you.

Anyway, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I think that what I was trying to let you know at the very start of this post before I strayed completely and utterly off the topic, was that I've now decided to update my blog every second day. This way I hope to reduce muddle-mind moments like yesterday morning's and perhaps even have the strength to stop myself from doing all the wrong things at all the wrong times and, most importantly, have gathered a bit more to tell you about.

Well I guess that's today's post over sorry, friends. Now, go and have an inappropriate laugh.

Until Friday (my time)...

Yours truly,
me, Eloise x

a post in which I compare maths to chocolate

Today was Monday, which for me meant 2 hours of French (although can I really say that when every day for me is in actual fact 24 hours of French?) and 3 hours of my favourite subject ever, maths. Not. 

Because these subjects are probably the two where I can do the least in, I had a lot of time to write a blog post, which I've realised is actually a very useful way of using my time (lack of distractions) Obviously this method is working, and I feel I must warn you, the following passage is quite a hefty one...

Without further adieu, something I'm sure you'll all love to hear about, the familiar and engaging topic of:

School

I'm a bit tempted to leave it at that to be completely honest, but that wouldn't be much fun for you, would it? Of course, school has never been my favourite thing on Earth, an opinion I feel I share with most teenagers in the world, but aside from the uniform (good riddance), early starts (even earlier now, I regret to inform you) and heavy load of school work (non-existent for me at the moment) , I'll admit I didn't really mind school in New Zealand. In all honesty, Monday-Friday last year was mostly taken up with hilarious moments with one/a mixture/all of the 10 members of my amazing group of friends, during subjects that I specifically chose to suit my interests, and there's not really much to complain about there.

It couldn't be any more different in France. One thing I've learned to appreciate now that I've left my home is how well the New Zealand school system tailors to everyone's specific interests and skills and how much more it encourages creativeness in general, compared to France. If you don't like/aren't especially talented at maths here (and when I say this, what I really mean is that if it completely and utterly sizzles your brain spores), well then pretty much "tough titties to you, my friend", because you really have no choice but to sit through several hours of the most complicated algebra you have ever encountered in your life, each and every week. I'll be the first to admit that I found level 1 maths with Mrs Cameron (gotta love her and her velvet pants and amazing hearing abilities) slightly more than a little bit challenging, and then I came here and it suddenly became very clear to me that maths in New Zealand was, in comparison, as delightful as having a chocolate craving and then finding a peanut slab lying in wait for you in the pan on top of the microwave (I guess you all know where my Mum hides the chocolate now...) Les mathematiques (I'm hoping I don't have translate this one for you) en France is like getting the same craving, finding the package is empty, walking to the nearest shop only to have the person in front of you buy the last one, then discovering that the Whittaker's factory has closed down and shortly after, finding out that the world has run out of cocoa beans... and cream... AND sugar, meaning that you'll never have the sweet comfort of chocolate on your lips ever again. Pretty much, that's maths in France, an unfulfilled chocolate craving... aka horrible, unbearable, torture. I mean, forget about death by chocolate at once, this my friends, is death by maths. I seriously don't know how people here cope with it. To be fair, I guess they've learned much more advanced maths much earlier in life than myself, but this does not stop me from being baffled with a capital b. I kid you not, they're seriously the sort of equations that, if given one and asked to find f(x + 2y - 4) I would instantly collapse to the floor, curl up into foetal position and hum "I Will Survive" to myself (Mrs Gaynor, I like to imagine you'd give me strength here) and stay that way until relieved of the brutal task. Don't believe me?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you this, the worksheet I was given today. I will not be held accountable for any cardiac arrests...

Now tell me I'm exaggerating, I dare you. 

Something else that's completely different to school in New Zealand is my timetable. All my life I've grown up with a definite and familiar schedule for school. Firstly it was 9-3, then 8:50-2:50 and then the trusty old 8:45-3:30, but now I have something different everyday. Fortunately, Monday - Tuesday I get to start at 10am, but finish at 5-4pm, then not so luckily for the rest of the week from Wednesday - Saturday (yes, Saturday) I start at 8am and finish at various times anywhere from 10am-5pm. Pretty much my week goes like this:

my classes are Maths, French, English, Economics, Science, History+Geography and good old P.E.

Where there are sections crossed out, this is where I have lots of breaks throughout my week, either for extended lunches or while the rest of my class learns Espagnol, where I have the choice to go to the library or the study, games or tv room (all located at school), or my personal favourite, just leave. Luckily for me, Lycée Berthollet (this is my school, if you hadn't figured) is a mere 3 minute walk from town, so often, more often that not actually, between classes I lead myself in this direction for un petit browse in the shops. I'll admit that the novelty has started to wear off a bit now, and I'm being a bit more reasonable and buying less now that 'les soldes' (sale period in France from mid January-mid February) have finished, however, it's always nice to know that if I'm ever in need of a small pick me up, perhaps after a maths lesson, the option of retail therapy is available!

The teachers are all pretty and lenient on me at the moment but I think things will change once I actually understand the words they use during lessons (I purposely didn't say 'understand the lessons' here because most of the subjects I take I've never done/only ever done a little bit of in my life: Economics, Geography, History...) I've definitely already established favourite and least favourite teachers, which is interesting because I've obviously formed these opinions primarily on their mannerisms/teaching habits/overall presence, since I can't exactly judge them by the things they say. The teacher who falls at the bottom of my list would have to be le prof de Français, an opinion I share with most people in my class. I was talking to someone about her the other day and they mentioned how she thinks of herself as so superior and treats her students as much less important, and from what I can grasp by solely observing, I've got to give it to him, I couldn't agree more. We might as well say "Your Majesty" instead of "Madame", although I hardly doubt any of the royal family would ever even think for a second about wearing lumpy jerseys or attempt to tuck slightly baggy jeans (PRUE) into awkward length, lace up boots, let alone do both simultaneously, every day. She's also not very forgiving with my not-exactly-up-to-scratch level of French, and while I may only understand less than 5% of her lesson on any given day, I happen to have a special talent of knowing when she's talking about me (perhaps it's due to the fact that she uses my name and stares  right in my direction) but apparently, according to 'la reine de Français' talking to me is like 'talking to a deaf person'. I want to take this time to thank her immensely for those incredibly encouraging words! As if I needed reminding what a challenge it is to learn another language... Maybe you should learn to tame your frizzy mop, because according to me, your majesty, looking at you is like "looking at a singed pom-pom" thankyouverymuch. 

The fact that the only thing I'm capable of doing during classes here in France at the moment, is writing letters or blog posts, attempting to read novels in French (and what I mean by this is taking an hour to read a page, due to translating basically every word with my French/English pocket dictionary) or just sitting and having a little think about this thing we call 'Life', I sort of crave work of some sort. I've started to watch lots of documentaries which I think is my half subconscious way of making up for everything I'm not learning, by gaining knowledge through an endless supply of BBC docos on Youtube. It's all stuff that's really rather useless to me, of course, but I suppose it just feels useful to be learning something, no matter what it is. Who knows, maybe one day someone will ask me about liposuction, and guess what, I'll have the answers! (Louis Theroux - Plastic Surgery) 

I guess what I'm saying by all of this is that at the time being, I'm finding school a bit of a challenge and as a result of this, really quite boring. I know it may be a bit unfair to say this because it seems like I actually have it really rather easy, with not having to do any proper work, but in all honesty, I think I'd actually prefer to have something to do. At the moment it feels a bit like an ever so slight waste of time, when all I go to school for is to sit for hours doing my own thing, and I don't particularly feel like I'm learning anything, which is, after all, what we all go to school for. However, what I need to remember is that my brain is like a sponge right now, constantly soaking up the beautiful French language, and listening to it 24/7 at school is the best way je pourrai apprendre.I know I shouldn't take my current situation is school for granted either, because when my French improves and I actually start to do work, I'm sure I'll miss the days of sitting in maths and just dreaming of the day I can speak French fluently. 

I finish this with the feeling as if I've complained a hell of a lot, and I suppose the worst thing I can do now is completely contradict myself by saying that "school actually isn't that bad", so what am I going to do? I'm going to say it. It's ok, school, it really is. All in all, I guess I'm quite lucky that sitting for a few hours with nothing but my mind to keep me company doesn't really bother me, because it's really coming in handy right now. Sure, there's not a lot I can do, there are some disagreeable teachers and subjects, but in the end, when push comes to shove, I'm here for the experience and to learn French and this is what I'm doing everyday. It can only get better from here!

Yours truly, 

me, Eloise x

you have to start somewhere

I’ve been in France for close to 2 months now, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I’ve taken this long to write on here. 

Before I left, I loved the idea of keeping a travel blog, because I’ve seen so many others succeed brilliantly at it, and all in all it truly is a really great idea, but believe me, it takes a lot of commitment and motivation - both of which I’m lacking at the moment.

Of course, I’ve been incredibly exhausted every evening after thinking in French all day which, even though I knew it would hard, I’ll admit I didn’t fully anticipate exactly how draining it truly is! When I get home after a long and slow day at school, it seems all I have time for is making and drinking a cup of coffee (most commonly taken black here) replying to messages from my friends and family, eating dinner, having a shower and then by this point, I should really be heading to bed to prepare for a 6:30am wake up the next day. 

It’s not fair to blame lack of time for all my problems though, because to be honest, whenever I do have a spare moment, I always give up on my blog after a pitiful 5 minutes of staring at the blank screen and scrolling through iTunes for a song with the perfect mixture of both enthusiasm and calm, abandoning any attempts of writing for something that requires less thought, like Pinterest or a BBC documentary. 

However, in this moment I’m being strict on myself. I’ve got the album ‘I’m With You’ by the Red Hot Chili Peppers playing, I’ve put pages on fullscreen to limit distractions and I am not, no matter what, going to stop writing until I’ve produced something for all you lovely people to read. 

Since I’ve left my first post for so long, I guess it’s a little bit hard to fill you in on everything, and I’m actually a little bit lost as to where to start. What I've decided to do, is write a blog each and every day, and within each one I'll cover a different aspect of my exchange so far. Sound good?

It's going to be hard, since I'm the biggest procrastinator/have the most minute amount of motivation a person could ever have right now, but I'm going to have to be persistent, because I know it will all be worth it in the end. I want to remember this whole experience down to the smallest details for a long time, after all, and it's my greatest pleasure to be able to share it with all of you as well.

For now, I'm going to have to leave it at this. I'm not entirely satisfied with this post, it's the most boring thing I've probably ever written, but you have to start somewhere. Plus, I've spent way more time than necessary working on the layout for you to feast your eyes on... aren't I generous? 

So I guess that's it, more from me tomorrow! (I seriously mean it.)

Yours truly, 

me, Eloise x