Sunday life: boule and bike love

I have always found Sundays to be a bit dull and they are extremely dull in France. If you don't happen to have any food in the fridge or cupboards, you are pretty much screwed and especially when you're craving hangover food, as I am today. Shops are shut and there is very little to do, I don't want to do any work on Sundays. Work is for weekdays. So to make my Sunday a bit more fun I usually grab my bike and cycle down to the Jardin des Plantes to pass the time, to read, or just chill out listening to some music.

As I cycled through the Chateau, I saw a group of elderly french men playing a very serious game of Boule, right in the middle of the pathway. Yes, the stereotypical image that I naively thought I'd be seeing everyday when I first came to France. Staring at them over my shoulder I tried to cycle round them (yes I admit it wasn't my greatest idea) but was greeted with shouts of "Attention mademoiselle!" as I very nearly knocked into the boules and ruined their game. I was tempted to stop for a photo, but after this experience I thought I better get away as quickly as I could, so, shouting "désolé!" over my shoulder to the group of somewhat pissed off old men, I cycled off quickly, laughing to myself...at least they still have it in them to play competitively!

Have shared a few books I love.

How to survive a French strike...

This week there have been three strikes. The strikes seem to be another excuse for the french to get together, share food and wine, whilst protesting and reaking havoc in the town centre. Typical of the french, they always find a way of turning any event into an al fresco feast, casually whipping out dozens of fresh baguettes, cheese galore, glasses of wine, patés - cheerfully sharing food, stories - talking and laughing happily. It's very patriotic. I was cycling through town, naive to the strike that was happening a bit further on, until I found myself trapped in the mob of strikers, sirens going off and people shouting into loud-speakers, police cars circling round. Super. Being the only non-striker desperately trying to cycle straight through their protest march without being trampled upon was probably not the best decision, and I emerged out the other side feeling like i'd survived a military coup or something along that line. I need to find a timetable for this strike so I can be more prepared because it will clearly happen again, probably all year if i'm lucky. Sigh.
The university tramp definitely recognises me, I've probably given him many strange looks whilst walking to class, mainly because he carries a cane which scares me a bit. Every time I walk past him I get the strange feeling that he's putting on this 'crazy' front because he looks so 'with it'. Maybe I'll keep a close eye on him and his antics in future.
I've acquired a new love for olive tapenade, it's so good. I keep getting cravings for tapenade, mojitos and, strangely, tomatoes - the little vine ones. I can literally eat about fifty in one go, I don't know what's happening to me but France is definitely having a weird effect. Tomatoes on toast for breakfast, for lunch and dinner? Oui, sure.

Drunken Erasmus bike crew

Getting 'ivre' (drunk), French-style

My second week in Nantes has been similar to Freshers...but with more confusion and even more long European names to remember. The only easy ones are the Spanish - Fernando, Antonio, Alejandro, Roberto...you get the picture. If in doubt, add an O and you're o-k.
A few days ago there was the erasmus welcome party, which you'd have thought would be a small-ish party for only the poor new erasmus students, but nooo. Basically all of nantes university french students gatecrash and the party is one big piss-up outside, ending at 2am. I then headed off with my new Spanish mates to a very cheesy club in town called Texmex where guys generally dance on the stage and if you're drunk enough you'll probably end up doing salsa..or at least attempting and failing. I've now learnt, after being asked for de feu (lighter) many times and wondering why, when the french smoke so much, that they casually forget to take a lighter out with them...that they do this merely to start a conversation and to pick up girls. Ze sneaky francais!
I now pretty much cycle everywhere and have turned into a sterotypical french (wannabe) with a baguette in me basket (though no one here wears stripy tops or carries strings of onions with them.) After a night out a drunken cycle ride home is common amongst the french and i've had some pretty amusing drunken adventures home, apart from when you have to cycle up hill on a three-gear bike and then you mainly want to die.
University here is pretty similar to England apart from a few parts..long 3 hour lectures, the university tramp that lives in my languages building next to the coffee machine, getting free cigarettes off the students, I still find it amusing that none of the lecturers or anyone has asked him to leave. I guess he's not doing any harm, so why the hell shouldn't we have a french tramp at our uni? University food here is generally a lot better than England, fresh baguettes not packaged shitty ones, starter, main and desert at the university restaurants all round town for 3 euros, and of course...the famous boulangeries which I'm definitely gonna miss in England! Uni on Monday..an 8.30 start for a Masters course..how the hell am I allowed to study that!? Not complaining though..

photos of Nantes will soon be added!

some likes

Mali, Africa, 2008.

Thailand, Summer 2010

Thailand 2010, click on the picture to zoom in, the face says it all.

Beirut - "Nantes"

L'eléphant

I took a trip to see the famous elephant, a gigantic piece of architecture built to walk around the city carrying 49 people who can control its movements, make it trumpet and hose the people down below with water from its trunk. I definitely got sprayed. A dripping wet journey home occurred but luckily it has been a boiling hot day.

Getting ready to go...

Hello,

It's two days until I go to France now, and I'm still jet lagged and ill since coming back from Thailand. panic.

The Land of Smiles...

I got back from Thailand yesterday. Shattered. I went with a group of friends for a month around Thailand and Cambodia, leaving them in Siem Reap to head to France whilst they continued to Vietnam. Southeast Asia is everything and yet nothing you are expecting...hot, stunning, exotic, paradise. Yet it offers so much more. The craziest place in Thailand has to be Bangkok - creepy "fortune tellers". Ping Pong shows. Thai fish massage.

Tuk tuk races in a monsoon.

One night I watched a Thai guitarist wearing a cowboy hat strumming along to Johnny Cash.

The Islands...Koh Tao. A small island, jungle-green and surrounded by turqoise ocean. Snorkelling around the coral reefs, or digging my feet into the sand whilst watching incredible fire dancers at night.

Fire Limbo hand in hand with my friend on Kho Phangnan beach.

Surreal.

Trekking upto the view-point on Kho Phi Phi with a hangover from Thai whisky buckets. Watching the island life below, the sun slowly sinking.

Having a life talk with a taxi driver on a four hour journey to Siem Reap from the border.

Explaining that we don't generally eat dog or cat in England.

Cambodia - being smacked on the bum by beggar kids.

The amazing Ankor Watt temples.

Waking a Cambodian man sleeping on the floor of our hostel in the early hours of the morning, screaming, then tripping over his motorbike, knocking it over. Nobody questions why he is there; he just is.

Playing cards, the Beatles, drinking Thai rum on our balconi above our own private beach.

This was definitely a month to remember.