2 Weeks, 3 Cities

I find it rather funny how, although the year abroad is essentially 10 months of being in another country to improve your target language, as soon as a weeks holiday comes around the whole of the Erasmus population of said country swiftly departs to explore anywhere else in Europe BUT country with target language. So, being the very cliché of this observation, the onset of a mid term holiday meant that it was time to flee Aix for a week (or a week and a half... what lectures?)  Queue further disappearance of Erasmus grant to various flight/bus operators, hostels and extravagant air b'n'b apartments.

Quit your yearning, and live like the French

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of 5 year old temper tantrums in supermarkets here in France. ‘Why is all the milk on the dry goods shelf? Why isn’t it fresh? What on Earth am I going to put in my tea?!’ and amongst other things; ‘WHAT IS THIS BREAD AND WHY IS IT SWEET!?’

What are you grateful for?

It probably won't come as a surprise when I say that being almost 300 miles from home means that every once in a while you start to think about how much you appreciate its comforts and the people that you left behind. Everything, as a memory, becomes idyllic and nostalgic and it's hard to even remember what you could have possibly ever moaned about. Woe is life. Even the inherently evil teacher who gave you a D on your homework in year 9 becomes an angel in disguise; 'Oh, well I'm sure she was just looking out for my best interests! What a nice lady...'

Baby, it's cold outside.

As winter descends upon the South of France, that being the very end of November might I add, the inevitability of Christmas also looms. Although I generally associate Christmas markets with Germany (rightly so, I am told) I must say that France seems to hold a damn pretty Marché Noël too. England, take note. You're slacking.

The hidden treasures of Provence

It's officially mid October, gone mid October even, and it is 26 degrees. Is this real life?

My inner pale white girl is crying. Oh, the woes of living in the South of France. No- I shouldn't complain, in fact I CAN'T complain because where I would probably be sat in my room right now in Costa-del-Soton (there's even now a page on Facebook called 'Is it raining in Southampton?') moping over books with 400 pages which I'd probably only realistically read 2 of, I have been exploring beautiful French towns, and hiking alongside stunning views in order to spend my Saturday lazing on rocks in what can only be described as paradise. (See first image, and weep.)