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.

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...'

Why you should learn a new language! (And the difficulties you might face, but will conquer, along the way...)

❝You can never understand one language until you understand at least two.❞

Problem #2456 of being a linguist: Arriving in a country and instantly wishing that you spoke the language. Then ensues the feeling of annoyance and guilt that you don't speak the language. Then deciding 'Actually, when I get home, I'm going to learn this damn language'. 

Part 1: Oh, Barcelona...

Have you ever been somewhere and just immediately realised this was the place for you? I've felt it in London a fair few times, but my god, I'm sorry London but I'm cheating on you with Barcelona. It hasn't been long, but we've kind of fallen in love. 

Almost at the mid-mark...

Something that I learnt in my first two years of University, a mid-first year, mid-essay and mid-'what the hell am I doing here?' type epiphany if you like, was that if you want something done, then you have to do it for yourself. In life no one is going to spoon feed you information or knowledge until the point where you think, ah! that's it... In fact, I've come to realise that if you want something then you have to just get off your behind and do it. You're in it for yourself I'm afraid! The reason behind my brutal revelation, my friends, is because I am well and truly stuck in limbo, and as much as I would like for a handsome bearded man with a face like Ben Dalhaus to come and pull me out and buy me a mojito, I just have this feeling it's not going to happen any time soon.

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.)