The Return of the King: Coming Back Down to Planet Earth from Montpellier Bliss

I am sorry it's been so long since you've been treated to a post. I have been occupied with fulfilling travel duties to write about, and cramming in revision along the way. Nevertheless, I am back, and can assure you that it is with a venegence.

It's certified madness how you can come away from doing something you expected to be interesting at most, and have your outlook on life permanently tweaked, changed even.

Yet here I am, just 888 km away from the scene of the crime (yes, I actually checked the distance between Maidstone and Montpellier), and I feel not only like a better person, but also a more versatile adventurer.

The Surprising Snazz of Montpellier!

A cheeky snapshot of La Comédie I was rather chuffed with. I had one lined up worthy of entering the photograophic history books, but a sly lorry idled it's way into the scene, and ultimately spoiled the glory.

Perhaps if the endless winter that engulfed the United Kingdom had followed us out to Southern France, this place would be another Scarborough or Stevenage. But warmed generously by the much welcome glow of summery sunshine, the effortless charm of Montpellier grew on me almost instantly. Filled to the brim with fashion boutiques, crèpe stands, and stylish, modern bars to cater to the thriving, lively student population, this seemed just the kind of place that anyone would be lucky to live in. The entire place seemed devoid of any concrete; in it's place was a smart marble and limestone cosmopolitan sprawl.

Chowing down on some authentic Pho with the Nguyen family!

Above is a one take snapshot of the family I stayed with. It seems that I got some of the nicest and most interesting people on the rota, and I was even offered to come and stay with them with a friend in the summer when I'm Interrailing!
Left is Marc, a streetwise DJ who took me on a solid night out with his seemingly endless acquaintances. Right is Génevive, a fantastic cook, and Fréderic, a European marathon winner with an incredibly healthy lifestyle and a spiritualist attitude.

Pho is heaven. They literally cooked heaven.

View from my bedroom window on the last day, spent chilling out, reading The Beach, listening to the Arctic Monkeys and basking in the warm sunshine. Real soul food.

Here's a little run-through of the routine that was in place

•Wake up in a spotlessly clean and tidy room in a ridiculously comfortable bed to my alarm, feeling like I actually really wanted to get out of bed. This may be the first time in history that any seventeen year old male has felt this way on a regular basis when forcably arisen at 7:45.

•Have a lovely chat in French if anyone was up, and eat several bowls of cereal.

•Catch the Tram with Ellie, participate in illicit cigar purchasing (for a friend, not me) and entirely legal daily supermarket pottering.

•Recieve AS French guidance from a hilarious character named Floric who wore the same jumper every day, and seemed to have a deep emotional connection with this song.
 

•Sneak out at break and use our time to rush here

To merrily munch our way through these

An exemplary crèpe

With this glorious bunch in our own perfect spot

•Finish of our 'learning activities' (vaguely educational, surprisingly helpful) and grab lunch.

•Spend the afternoon doing a variety of things, including ice-skating, shopping, bowling, laser questing, hitting the beach (during which, of course, I found myself scouring through the hippie beach market to buy incense and postcards like a good little tourist) and catching the train down to explore Avignon.



All fairly harmless and nice. The evenings were, on occasion, a slightly different story.

A little over-enthusiastic with the shots. A previous excursion with Marc and his DJ elite had taken its toll!

All in all, my faith in European travel was strongly bolstered, and I had a great time out with some lovely people. French lessons no longer seem to drag on either, and actually seem much more engaging, so I must have learned something out there.

Bring on the next batch of travel! The travel bug seems to be growing on me more and more. Adventuring is my addiction, and I'm forever itching to get off my English schoolgoer backside and dose up!

PS: I may well start posting a quirky, fun take on world affairs on here. You could well be in for some exclusive world news, and a fresh take on things. That's if you're lucky.

I would say au revoir, but that's far too cliché and annoying.
Ciao!

Exchange Outcast - I'm hitting up Montpellier, and speaking only French!

Thierry Henry is a living god, and he came from France so it's not as shite as some people think!

Want to read this post in a funky new language for a real cultural kick? Check out the all-new 'Translate' button and prepare for either utter confusion, or perhaps even increased understanding if I really can't write!

And so my petulant little fable begins..

Come this time in two days, I will probably be eating a hopefully delicious meal with a French-Vietnamese family (at least supposedly, judging by the second name Nguyễn which over 40% of the Vietnamese population share) in Montpelier, speaking only French and trying to comprehend a notoriously fast-paced language, all whilst attempting to remain in confident and polite prose. I'm not ready.

Apparently, this is Montpellier. It looks pretty nice, in the way that Bristol would look awesome if you took a really knockout picture. Still, if the sun's shining and it's lovely and warm, I am more than pleased.

Apparently we're going skating, bowling, and shopping in Avignon in the pleasant climate of Southern France, and I would be getting really excited, if it wasn't for the sudden realization that my language skills are going to be the laughing stock of the region.

Currently, I am committing the cardinal sin of procrastination from revising my speaking skills and topics right before both the trip and my A-Level French speaking exam. Where I felt prepared and on top of my game after my GCSE equivalent, I feel as if I have been submitted by some kind of nasty AQA accident this time around. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll do fine and come out with a smile on my face, but the scale of what is to be achieved in the coming weeks is getting to me, as per usual.

Culinary heaven. Seriously, if they make Pho, I refuse to leave. Please, please be French Vietnamese.

Literally cannot wait to meet Marc, Claire, and co. I really did luck out getting the (hopefully) Vietnamese family, as we will have plenty to talk about on South East Asia, and Pho in particular. I'm hoping that this Marc fella is a real lad and will introduce me to his mates, and I really hope that Bennett aren't poxy and allow me time go out and hang out with them, maybe drink a couple of beers and have a great time. Guarenteed, I will be doing anything to not come across as the awkward exchange student who isn't really confident or willing enough to mix with anyone. That would suck; I have seen it happen too many times and don't want it to happen again.

I am the only guy going on this trip, which is both a ridiculous ratio, and a mixed blessing. Despite the barrage of females venturing outside of their homeland and, you know, without sounding too crude and nasty, 'feeling experimental', I will also be without fellow men to form a wolfpack, and will be relying on French guys to provide the banter.

They had better be real geezers; not introverted little scamps who write blogs about their feelings!
(Please note that the above sentence may contain a light dusting of sarcasm)

Bring on Montpellier! I'll take some cheeky snaps, bring the banter throughout, and show you guys soon. Perhaps even when I'm there! Peace out.


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