Back on the exploration bug

I begin writing this as my French bank card is once again refused. Try not to start me on this topic if you ever happen upon me in real life or have means of contacting me. My bank here has a €160 limit on debit card spending every seven days. Except it isn't a Monday-Sunday limit, and it is incredibly annoying. I will not go on on that note.


I have however just attempted to buy a ticket for a Train of Great Speed, or a Train de Grande Vitesse, France's high-speed train service as I have finally got round to organising my second week of the winter holidays. I have had travel to the UK booked since November, but had left it this late to book something to get me at least back to somewhere in France. It is becoming quite the habit, and it isn't one with which I want to become too acquainted, although thus far I have not been ripped off with prices.

Since the beginning of 2013 in France, I have been a bit more reluctant to get out and about. No, Bolbec has not become my favourite place on the planet, but I have been aware of my small assistant salary, how little time I have left here and how much time I have not been spending on improving my French. Approximately 65% of my life is spent in English, and that isn't really good enough. I need to improve and I need to make conscious efforts to do so.

But instead I have taken the time to do that out of my lesson-planning time. As awful as that may sound, I have calmed down on planning every minute detail of a class as it is either not appreciated or not used, and it is here that I have begun to find more time for my learning. My learning which is appreciated, used and also necessary. My students may not, but I care about my exams!

After various Disney nights and meals together with friends, my birthday was the first real weekend I got out and about again. Yes, it was to London, but regardless it was a trip! I turned twenty-one on the Thursday, pushed myself through some very easy lessons in the mornings of Thursday and Friday, and jumped on a train to Paris, legged it through the métro system to make the Eurostar on time back to the beautiful British capital. Possibly my favourite part of the journey came at UK Border Control at the Gare du Nord when, despite having filled in the requested landing card and being from a friendly country (let alone one made up practically of entirely British people), my Australian friend Lauren was interrogated about the purpose of her journey and general life in France. When it was my turn to go through, I spoke to the man, all he asked was, "Good birthday?" The powers of a British passport...


The Friday evening was spent mostly in the Underground system, picking up various friends from two or three different stations, having the man behind the counter at the Travelodge consistently flirt with me and finally heading out to Leicester Square for a night out during which drunk people complimented my figure on the Tube. Saturday, finally roused from our slumber, the eight of us went to Covent Garden for brunch, before sightseeing around roughly the entire of central London. Unfortunately Lauren and I were called reluctantly back to France fairly early on Sunday morning due to the poor availability of French trains on Sundays (perhaps you have gathered that I dislike French transport?), and whilst I spent Monday in a state of exhausted breakdown - again, don't ask - I had an absolutely fantastic weekend.


The following weekend comprised of an Allied trip of Brits, Americans, Australians, a Canadian and a New Zealander down to the D-Day Landing beaches in Lower Normandy. Now there are two of us with cars, travelling is so much easier and more flexible, and so arriving in Bayeux (no I didn't have time for the tapestry or the Commonwealth War Graves as I had to leave Bolbec much later) on Friday evening was no problem. Saturday, despite the rain, we investigated first the American site and cemetery at Omaha Beach, then the British at Gold and finally the Canadian at Juno, reserving Sunday for the Memorial Museum in Caen. I can speak only for myself as a British person with all the history lessons, documentaries and family behind me, the beaches and the museum were incredibly touching, and so far it is the thing I would tell anyone in Normandy not to leave without seeing.

So what next? Almost immediately on return to Bolbec a trip was in the planning to venture further into Lower Normandy to see Le Mont Saint Michel, booked for the first weekend after the holidays, and a day trip to Monet's gardens in Giverny is also in the pipeline. My immediate future includes my return to Britain for eight days to celebrate my birthday with my family, and those trains I mentioned earlier. Where am I going? In order to combine my French practise and travelling in one, I am flying to Geneva for two nights, taking a train to Lyon, staying a night and then rocketing up to Paris where I will base myself to go and see the castle at Pierrefonds. Any Merlin fans out there may know this better as Camelot.

Well, as it has just turned midnight, we return to the start as I endeavour to see if my bank card has refreshed from the seventy euros I spent on petrol last Thursday... Yes, that is exactly how it works. Every seven days... Wish me luck.