The end? - Reflection of a semester

I'm quite overdue for a blog post - and what better time to tie things up nicely when I'm on my way back home, via my second home, Hong Kong. I feel that though this chapter has closed for the time being, my time in Europe isn't done yet, living in France and under a French system (even in their shitty administration) has opened my eyes to entirely new possibilities for the immediate future.

What is six months? Any mathematician worth his or her money will tell you it's approximately 25 weeks, 181 days or 4344 hours, depending upon how you look at it. Seeing as I am entirely useless at maths and resort to using my mobile phone to do simple equations, I'll break it down in another way.

Six months gives you enough memories - and candid photo memories - for a lifetime.
Six months is enough time to get used to the swing of life.
Six months more than acquaints you to a different culture.
Six months drinking like an Erasmus student is probably enough time to shorten the life of your liver by two years.
Six months can be filled with laughter.
Six months can see you through the seasons - as I did - as Provence metamorphosed from the languid summer days to a frosty European winter paradise.
Six months of enjoying food will make you realise the best biscuits come from a midnight bakery, through a dingy window at odd hours of the night.
Six months of waking up every day knowing there was always something cool happening later on during the course of the day, that little sunbeam that made each and every day worthwhile.
Six months is enough to master a language.
Six months is enough time to fall in love with a place.
Six months is enough time to fall in love with people...

Six months can change your life.

Barcelona - day 1

So we had a pleasant few days in Lisbon. Really pretty town and we were in a great location too, Baxia-Chiado. We were pretty spoiled for choice with the restaurants and food everywhere, especially digging into the egg tarts around Belem (called pastel de Belem), it is also the place where explorer Vasco da Gama once set off for India. Our hostel was really nice, even the fact we were sharing with a weird dutch-mexican guy whose name was actually "Evil" (or at least to us sounded like that).

R and I got haircuts from a salon called Hairport... and unbelievably it was only 28 euro for the works. Have had to pay for a boring hair cut in Aix and it was over 30... bargain. My hair was cut shorter, with a fringe that basically, according to the girl that cut my hair, makes my face look like a love heart. Not sure if I have cutter´s remorse but I heard on the grapevine that hair styling is known to be pretty avant-garde in Lisbon so I thought I´d get on the bandwagon and try it out.

Fast-forward to yesterday, we had our flight delayed twice and we were stuck in the airport waiting for our plane to Barcelona. The captain who eventually flew the plane said he had been flown up from Madrid just to fly our plane... right. The turbulence in the plane basically summed up our entire evening. We eventually got to the place I booked, which is nice and more of a hotel though it´s actually a university residence. I was told it was convenient for transport. What lies. The metro closed at 11pm, we had managed to get out of the room and were told to wander down an area called Fontana, according to the receptionist, there would be "a lot of good places to go eat and drink". No cigar. I know it´s Christmas but surely it shouldn´t be as bleak as the sight we beheld:

• Main excitement was a hobo forcing flowers into our faces
• Everything was closed
• The restaurants that were open were fully booked and we had a minimum waiting time of 30min
• The other contenders were a small kebab restaurant and some random german diner with schnitzel

As we were quite keen to get stuck into the Catalan fare, we held out and looked around. Eventually we stumbled across a tiny convenience store and R tried asking, using the spanish he knows, to get out bearings. Unfortunately, as the shop was manned by a mainland chinese man, there was a lot of confusion and I eventually had to step in as Mandarin seemed to be the only common language. I asked where the spanish restaurants were and where to eat and he said to hold on as he called a friend/see if this "place" was open. If that doesn´t sound dodgy enough, just wait till you hear what happened next.

His friend sauntered along and took us to this place. I made small talk, starting off with: so your spanish/catalan must be fluent by now. The guy said no not at all, I´m from Hang Zhou and I´m unemployed. Hm.

We went to the dodgiest greasy spoon restaurant ever and tried to stomach the menu. It was really gross, we were ordering the spanish things on the menu, even though it was a mainlander gig and hoping it would turn out ok. I guess I didn´t help by saying there might be a sedative in the food, for when they cut out our kidneys and we wake up in an ice bath. Grease, and not at all Spanish. Our mood was really deflated and we all left, our Christmas eve dinner so revolting we all wanted to puke.

Thankfully I had been uncharacteristically resourceful and ripped the inflight guide on Barcelona on our easyjet flight and they recommended a club. It was very similar to the Ivy in Sydney and we spent some hours basking on the couches, sipping cocktails and ringing in the new year. Every cloud has a silver lining.

We had a bit of a sleep in today, it was a real task getting home and I was so cold that once in bed, I was really tempted not to leave. It´s afternoon of Christmas day now, I have booked us in for dinner at a nice place now... and we will probably be out soon for some sightseeing, since shops and the like are all closed today, as it is a day of ´fiesta´.

Hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas! xxxooo

Faro + Lisboa

So basically Paris gets immobilized by snow. My sunday goes like this:

•  M and I up at 5am so we can get the 6.50am bus to the airport, Beauvais, which isn't even IN Paris
• The metro line 1 being stopped 
• Panicked call from R who pulled an all nigher finishing an assignment and who had the same issue at Cadet
• Catching a cab to Porte Maillot -sp?
• Told the bus to the airport had stopped running because of the snow
• Sharing a cab with some random norwegians to get our flight
• Hearing it was delayed and eventually the porto flight cancelled totally
• STRANDED ALL DAY IN THIS PIECE OF SHIT AIRPORT OUTSIDE PARIS
• Herded like cattle into buses to Beauvais because they CBB to get us back to Paris
• Eventually getting home at 10pm that night

We decided to stay an extra day in Paris and flew out yesterday when the snow stopped momentarily, to Faro, in the south. Grungy feel to the place, sudden rains and seafood. Reminded me of this place south of Aix, Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer and R strongly of Romania.

Took a cityrail deadringer to Lisbon. In a really sweet hostel. Every cloud has a silver lining. Food is very cheap here, as is booze. M has done some retail therapy already, really the best place to do it.

Montpellier

This weekend I got out of the bubble of Aix-Paris-London and did something exciting and new. I decided to venture to Montpellier with a few friends I have met on my exchange. Despite my train being delayed twice due to, as the SNCF says: "unfavourable weather up north" I managed to get there in one piece on a cold and exhausting Friday night.

We got to check out the night life (seedy bar, complete with a bear and a twinkie; circling us on the dancefloor) and the beautiful christmas lights. Much like Aix, Christmas markets are a big thing for Montpellier and vin chaud, churros and pretzels were being sold like hot-cakes.

Walking around at night near Place de la Comedie

Montpellier by day, plenty of classical style architecture around

Fondue restaurant with their "biberon" (baby bottle) specialty glasses

All in all a very pleasant weekend with art galleries, long walks around town, rich food (we rolled home fuller than googs with cheese and chocolate fondue) and wine.

My love affair with vin chaud

I am becoming quite hopeless at updating. I sort of figure that when on facebook, people get a good enough glimpse of the happenings of my life.

Christmas markets have sprung up all over Aix. My dad and E had the chance to come down and check it out the first weekend they started. I must say I have been giving the hot wine stand a good patronage... I just love it. I feel like Nigella Lawson now with all the food innuendoes but it ACTUALLY is love in a cup.

Some photos! Of random things/people.

The start of C.Mirabeau and the decorations

With a leopard print brolly and my new wellies! Very happy =)

 

Some father-daughter time in Aix

A Roman Holiday

For those that have my facebook, you have surely seen facebook updates about my little trip to Italy. Actually my first trip to the boot-shaped nation. It was brief; for starters. I got to Rome Fiumicino airport on Sunday evening and was flying out by midday on Tuesday. Not enough time to do much more than marvel at some of the architecture and moan about the state of the weather.

It pissed with rain. All day. The one full day I was there.

I did take some good pictures but generally the weather put a damper on things. That and perhaps the very suss service apartment we booked last minute. Somewhat better than the ill-advised stay in a love hotel in Taipei I had once but not good. I was with my mum and brother and to give you a picture of what it was like, my mum stepped on a rusty nail and was concerned about tetanus.

None the less, I had pizza. I had pasta. I had gelato. Veni, vidi, vici -- as far as the food is concerned.
I was somewhat glad to get back to France, I was pretty sure I'd eventually roll back, bloated by all the carby food. I must say it felt weird to be in a similar language but suddenly deaf and dumb. I was also insanely thirsty all the time and very glad to have juice without sugar, as in Italy practically everything was loaded with it. Still, my interest in Italy is whetted - but I think to really have fun, I'd go somewhere a bit off the beaten track next time.

Remember

Pre-November chills. Bad news from home. I am trying to pick up the pieces and move on. Thinking of anecdotes to remember my grandfather by.

David Smyth

(9 February 1922 - 22 October 2010)

"What is a hormone?"
"It is is a chemical released by a cell..."
"No, it's a sound from a brothel."

"No love, I don't need any sugar. I am sweet enough as it is"

Grandpa: "I need a woman with a sense of humour. Sadly my wife [grandma] was not like that"
Me: "Well you went for her anyway"
Grandpa: "I was looking at other things at the time"

"Julia Gillard, oh what a voice. I feel sorry for her boyfriend"

My grandfather was a real joker. This may come across as inappropriate but he really was hilarious. He will be missed.