Toulouse Writings.
Of my experience thus far in Toulouse I would say that it’s been one of the best and most difficult things I’ve ever done. I suppose partly the short level of time only about 4 months, means that it is quite a lot more intense than for people away for a whole year. A friend in Montpellier told me he settled down after about the first three months! ‘Three months!’ I thought! ‘I don’t have three months!’ But even so perhaps it’s taken that long.
Being away from home is a pleasurable mix of the exotic and the little successes that occur day to day like feeling a bit more accepted by French peers, managing to communicate in a café, realising that you have grown to know a new place. It is also quite hard. I have always wanted to travel and had never accounted for quite how much I would miss home, and it wasn’t always the obvious things. Often it was a TV program that reminded me of the uniquely British sense of humour, an audiotape of Bill Bryson reminded me of the delight with which the British people partake in eating things like teacakes and savouring hot cups of tea. Living in London I have definitely missed the buzz of a big city, the diversity of cultures and consequently the diversity of the food! This all seemed to take on a strange sense of romance from abroad. I missed home in a way that I never knew I would. At one point I even missed rainy April mornings and grey cloud filled skies.
At the same time the thought to be living in France really thrilled me. I would feel so happy walking to the boulangerie on a Saturday morning to buy a croissant and a baguette. I felt so…French! In France they queue out of the door at a boulangerie on a Sunday, piling out with an average of three baguettes bundled together and cradled in their arms. They have to do this before all the shops shut for the afternoon. The risk of running out of bread before the shops reopen on Monday morning is clearly not worth contemplating!
The French are very proud of their food. I didn’t realise quite how proud. Proud to the extent that it is ok to openly mock our food. An advert for McVities digestives runs with the tagline “C’est Anglais, mais c’est bon!” “It’s English, but it’s good!” Saying that, they have reason to be so. Their markets are fantastic, so lively and the store holders so friendly; it has been a great pleasure to visit them. The cafes are also amazing. In France it is quite normal I think to spend several hours in a café just sipping a cup of coffee and watching the world pass by.
In another country we tend to regard everything I think with an air of slight bemusement. The French do the same to us and I think it’s necessary to have a sense of humour when relocating (even temporarily to another country). At first I didn’t quite realise this, I think it took a while to realise that it was ok to not quite “get” everything, to not love every aspect of a country, but to enjoy it’ positives and try not to get too hung up on its flaws.
On the day of the royal wedding I turned on the television to find that it was on three different channels. When I later said this to my landlord who found it all quite funny, she said that it was, because a lot of British people live in France. I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced. The French are quite intrigued by our “set-up”. They didn’t want a royal family but I think they remain fascinated by the fact that we still have ours. I loved listening to the French commentary. They were so excited about it. I felt oddly patriotic, not something that occurs often. I suppose it must have seemed such a hullaballoo for just two people but I think how old-fashioned it was arguably, just added to the grandeur and excitement of watching it. I think I enjoyed watching it in France far more than I would have done in England. I heard some of the English coverage was a bit serious whereas the French coverage was just really fun and entertaining. It gave me a great insight into what the French think about our culture in Britain.
I have two flatmates here, one is Georgie who is English too and comes from Clapham. She is a French student on her year abroad. The other is a German Erasmus student called Pia. We talk always in a mix of French and English. Pia speaks both well and I’m envious that I cannot speak German to the same standard. In the end my group of close friends comprises of all German students, apart from Georgie. All the other Erasmus students at the école where I have been studying are German and I was the only English one. Strange when I know this is far from being the case at other universities here in Toulouse. At first this was a bit lonely but ultimately it’s been great. Speaking two different languages as a first language we speak mostly in French, as it is the “middle ground”. Speaking French with other “étrangères” is great because it is a much slower pace than when you talk to French people who just speak so fast without even realising it. We can be more understanding with each other and we can help each other when we get stuck. I also found that I liked and revelled in the fact that they weren’t English. I have so much enjoyed hearing about their lives in Germany, what they missed (notably the very dark, heavy German bread), and what they thought about England. I realised that I had preconceptions about Germans that I had to throw out the window because they didn’t fit, and of course why would they? You definitely can’t define a whole country on outmoded ideas. It was interesting to hear about how they felt about being German, being proud to be German on the one hand, being part of the first generation who were far enough removed from a turbulent past to be able to say that, but also feeling embarrassed when they heard German tourists in the streets.
I have made some French friends here but it was harder. When you are all Erasmus students you are all in the same boat, you already have something in common. It was harder work trying to infiltrate French cliques within the school; you had to make a lot of effort. With some the effort continues, with others it is really lovely. It is often the ones who have come from other places themselves, who remember the feeling of not knowing anyone who are the kindest but not exclusively. One student who I met on the first day still greets me with a big smile every time I see him. He makes art to help him go to wild places and live out amongst nature. Another student makes comic books and often tries to talk to us in English or German albeit with a strong French accent. He performs too and plays banjo, he offered to help teach me how to play “Boys don’t cry” on the ukulele but regretfully I didn’t follow it up. He has a habit of disappearing for weeks and then reappearing as if from nowhere.
I found it much easier making friends with the French guys, “les mecs” than the girls, “les filles”. They seemed more immediately open and welcoming. I’m not sure how this would have changed had we been guys. Not very much I suspect. We have a polish friend who barely speaks French and yet he has still managed to bond with a small group of “mecs”, who speak English with him. We found them one lunchtime, in the studio only about 12 o’clock, already drinking wine and beer and smoking cigarettes. Everyone smokes in France. I think there are only a couple of students in the year who don’t smoke. Even the teachers do, the most “détendu” even lighting up in the studio during the lesson that they are teaching. The fire alarm goes off a lot when people smoke with the windows closed. This didn’t bother me as much as I thought it might but the cigarette butts that remain, littering the studio did.
I hope what will remain from my time in Toulouse is a desire to continue to explore other places and a knowing that I can do more than I think. That I don’t need to spend so much time worrying, as normally things work out. Although I always wanted to do an exchange like this I never really believed I was capable of it. It has been really hard but also rewarding. I’m currently reading a book in French, albeit quite simple, I wasn’t able to understand it before I left and now I’m up to page 130 after only about 4 days! It’s sometimes little triumphs like that that make you realise it’s all been worthwhile. It sounds ridiculous perhaps but it’s true. I think it’s about becoming aware of what you are capable of. It felt a bit like moving to London for the first time but more extreme! I think all over again it made me realise that I could look after myself, that I could be quite independent and that even when feeling shy I could meet new people and on top of this that I could hold conversations in another other language. I told this to a friend when I was back in London recently and he replied “make sure you don’t lose that”.
I’ve experienced a whole other culture and way of life here. There were days when I’d think I hadn’t done much but each day brought new experiences and even going to cafes and super markets was so different. One thing I did find was that wherever you go there will always be some nice people; I hope I’m right in saying this. I think you don’t appreciate how kind and patient strangers can be until you travel. From the first day I experienced this. On the train the man sat next to me noticing I was writing in English asked me what it was for and like that we started talking. We spent the next few hours in conversation and drinking my first taste of French rosé at the bar. I even sent him a postcard once I arrived. The weekend that followed, sat on my own outside a restaurant, I got chatting to a Mexican girl at the next table who was on a year abroad studying architecture in Paris, she had come to Toulouse to travel a bit and again conversation ensued-despite many difficulties in remembering my A level French.
Since then I’ve met many other really genuinely lovely, engaging and encouraging people, in school, on trains-quite frequently, at markets and in restaurants. I’ve also met many not so nice people, but for every not so nice person I’ve definitely met someone else who balances them out! It has also made me realise how hard it must be for foreigners in London, it must seem really confusing. I have decided that instead of getting cross with them for being slow or taking up too much pavement that I’ll try to remember how nice people were to me here in Toulouse and be equally nice to them. There is no rush in Toulouse so people do have time to talk, to be patient, we should probably do more of that in London, I think it makes a difference. I also have a new respect for my foreign friends who choose to spend three or four whole years studying abroad in England, in hindsight they made it look easy, even if they didn’t always feel like that.
Writing this has made me realise how glad I am to have done this exchange, good and bad it’s been like nothing I’ve ever done before. While I’m really looking forward to returning to London for good in 4 weeks, maybe I will feel a bit nostalgic for my time here in France. It’s a different way of life. I also can’t wait to show my new friends London and I hope to be able to visit them in Germany.
