If tomorrow never comes....

....But it will. Tomorrow is when it all begins. The elusive ‘year abroad’, that seemingly mythical third year which almost every language student assumes will never actually arrive when they first embark upon their degree. Yet tomorrow at 7am, I will have left my Kentish roots for seven months In Le Havre; where I will no doubt be greeted with an endless supply of pharmacies, many fruitless Hypermarket searches for salt and vinegar crisps and countless attempts to become best buds with ‘Real French People’.

So far, my family’s insistence that I ‘travel lighter than usual’ has resulted in two car loads booked onto the 07.50 Eurotunnel, five relatives and a shoe rack. Personally, I thought I’d done well, and it still remains beyond me how fellow students have managed to travel across the globe with only a couple of cases and a rucksack...I mean, how will I cope without my giant M&S teddy bear every night? What if my furnished flat doesn’t have any mugs or a Tesco mug holder? And how can I possibly clean the place up without the loan of my uncle’s mum’s special hoover? So you see, I’m only taking the essentials.

Having not spoken French since my brief visit to Le Havre in August (see previous blog entry), when it comes to my linguistic capability, I am more than a little concerned. However, I’ve been assured that I’ll soon get used to French life, and nodding along intellectually without a clue what’s going on will become second nature, although when teaching my 11-15 year olds I’m pretty certain they’re soon going to cotton on to this originally flawless system of conversation. All I can hope is that they’ll be kind to me, so that I can hopefully avoid agreeing enthusiastically to the fact that I smell, or something along those lines. Maybe they’ll teach me some ‘super-cool’ slang which will help me make friends instead....let’s hope so.

On Monday, there is a training day in Rouen for all English assistants, which I’m really hoping will be useful, or at least more useful than my second year TEFL module (Teaching English as a Foreign Language, for the non-abbreviation savvy of you). Although I was thoroughly enriched by the entirely futile observation that in order to improve our language skills, my peers and I needed to speak up more in oral classes, this is an altogether different situation. No longer will I simply be picking holes in the current language teaching methods; I will actually be the one implementing them. I have not yet been told my exact duties, but I know it is my role to bring authenticity and vigour to the English language, enhancing the learning experience with a variety of exciting and engaging activities.

....Or in the words of one wise friend; ‘just knock up some flash cards and blag it’.

 See you on the other side!

Preparation, preparation, preparation.

Wednesday 31^st August. A month (and a day) until I move to Le Havre, France (admittedly not Rouen itself, but I couldn’t resist the pun, courtesy of the ingenious Charlotte Campbell). As part of my university course, I’ll be spending 7 months there, attempting to teach English by cajoling a bunch of unsuspecting French teenagers into copious amounts of over the top role-play  and renditions of ‘Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes’.

          When I first decided to start a blog in order to document my time abroad, I was met with a variety of responses. Most were predictable; the candid encouragement from my parents, the ‘oh-great-but-I-bet-you-won’t-actually –do-it’ smiles from acquaintances, the miscellaneous comments about boosting up my CV. But from one particular friend (who shall remain anonymous), I received the following gem of camaraderie: ‘You’re not gonna start one of those gay blogs when you go abroad are you?’ Followed by the equally supportive: ‘I KNEW you would’ when I assented that yes, yes I did intend on becoming one of ‘those’ people.

           Scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, it is amazing to see just how many of my peers have jumped on the blogging bandwagon. I hasten to add that I have not started mine because it is the ‘done thing’, nor to discover my ‘inner emotional self’, neither indeed as an outlet to experiment with just how pretentiously one person can write, as some people seem to do. This blog is primarily for entertainment purposes; for those who wish to be updated on my inevitably hilarious (/mortifying) French frolics in an upbeat and light-hearted manner.

          Those who know me (and indeed anyone who has moved abroad!) will understand just how terrifying the prospect of life in a foreign country is. In fact, with only a month to go, I’m only just pushing myself out of the denial stage; a phase which incidentally I’m told is completely natural and expected. So far, in my career as a French student at university, I’ve managed to become French Society president and organise a social to Brussels, only to then win the trip award for ‘Worst French’ after my gloriously embarrassing utterances of ‘où est l’hostal’ (‘hostal’, to all you non-francophonies, is by no means a French word and what’s known as ‘franglais’) and ‘est-ce-que je peux avoir some ketchup’, which lead to a bemused Belgian taxi driver whipping out his phrase book and a considerably diminished reputation amongst the society members.

However, when l visited Le Havre with my family last week for a pre-year abroad look around, things seemed to be looking up. I’m by the coast, my two schools are only a 20 minute walk apart, and the worst phrase I came up with was ‘j’ai oublié le fromage’. Admittedly, this remark was slightly out of context when I announced it to a vacant French waitress when she brought a platter of cheese over to our table....but at least grammatically it couldn’t have been sounder! Maybe there’s hope for me yet.

‘Gay blog’ entry number one: Complete.