Top Tips for Language Assistants

For those of you who left simple, rainy England over a month ago to begin a whole new complicated and exciting life abroad as a Language Assistant, I would firstly like to say: complicated and exciting sounds so much more appealing right now. More importantly, I have compiled a list of 'top tips' - some things that, in hindsight, I wish had been thrust upon me when I was left abandoned and bewildered in France a whole year ago...

• Firstly, the issue of speaking too much English. Yes, you're being paid to teach English, but that isn’t to say that you need to keep speaking it outside of those 4 walls. As daunting and intimidating as this may sound, if you have older students go for lunch with them, or even a drink, and speak your target language. (Note to primary assistants: maybe skip this point, I'm sure your small, 'quirky' apartment is much nicer than a prison cell)

• Be insistent and perseverant with the teachers at your school – ask to speak in your target language, but do this politely, perhaps by offering to speak English on the odd occasion if they have a linguistic query. Also get to know them more, and accept any invitations, bar the strange, uncomfortable ones like going salsa dancing with just your 60 year old colleague and her husband.

• If you don't fancy meeting students outside of school, this tip is both humorous for you and beneficial for students. If you have secondary school(s), tell the students that you don’t understand their native language. This way, you not only give them no choice but to speak English in lessons, but the look on their faces at the end of the year when you tell them you’ve understood everything is hilarious. (Sounds cruel, but the French students found it both embarrassing and hilarious, as did I)

• Try and live with native students. If you struggle to keep the language up at school, there’s an abundance of youths who would love to live with a foreigner because we’re oh so intriguing.

• Immerse yourself into the culture by attending festivals (food, music or otherwise), going to the cinema, eating in traditional restaurants, learning some slang or perhaps donning their (in Europe, often very 90’s) clothing. There is also the option of joining some sort of class (cooking, dancing etc), which are normally advertised in the local newspaper, or ask advice from your colleagues.

• Find yourself a foreign boyfriend/girlfriend! A few of my friends managed to flirt their way through the European techno music into the arms of a charming, young French/Spanish man. Just like constantly chatting with a close friend, except the things that you're learning are a lot more useful! (I'm referring to language skills, of course…) 

• Enroll at the local University, either for sports or just attending courses in your target language. For example, I joined Grenoble University's Ski School to receive discounted travel and ski passes, as well as French speaking ski lessons. Or if snowy mountains aren't as easily accessible as they were for me, a friend of mine was part of a University choir, and another in the girls football team!

• One for the organised ones among you: set up a sharing folder on Dropbox for all assistants to put in their lesson plans. Honestly, this was a great tool for the weeks when my creative spark was a little deflated (read: I had a crazy weekend and consequently was feeling too lazy to work).

• TRAVEL! Take advantage of being even further submerged into Europe, or if you’re really lucky, another continent. Invest in that railcard, save your wages, and book those cheap flights, because it’s so much cooler saying you’ve "popped to Milan for the weekend, as it’s close" than an expensive, extensively planned trip from England.

• Embrace the oddities of (insert country here)’s population. If you fancy some more reading, I wrote an article a while back for a great online magazine about one particular stereotype of the French. Whoops, plugged it!

http://www.yuppee.com/2013/02/13/lost-in-translation-or-simply-rude-life-from-across-the-channel/

One final tip: remember that learning a language is a slow and steady process, don't expect to find living abroad easy, but do expect it to be an incredible, eye-opening experience – one that I would do all over again if I had the chance!

Should I do the British Council Language Assistantship?

It's coming up to the precious deadline for applications of the British Council Assistantship programme, and I can't believe it was a year ago that I was attending meeting upon meeting, weighing up my options for what would be a truly incredible, eye-opening year. Spanning across 5 continents, and with 15 countries on offer including Latin America, Austria and China, I'm sure the needs of most language degrees would be met. Of course, they include plenty of placements within the usual France, Germany, Italy and Spain, so there really is no excuse!

So, you've just started second year, and already your year abroad coordinator is pressuring you to make a decision of how you will spend your time a year from now. You will be told it's stressful and of utmost importance to make the decision a swift one, but really there are just 3 options: study, work, or become a language assistant.

As you may well know, I was a language assistant in Grenoble, France throughout the past year. However, I'm going to (try to) give an unbiased opinion on the programme as a whole, as I wish I had had more advice when making my decision. Firstly, one of the main things that attracted me to the assistantship, was the simple application process. Yes there is an application form, but no it is not difficult. They are not looking for someone whose life ambition is to become a teacher, nor do they want someone whose life revolves around children. They simply have an application to make sure you're not completely incompetent, and that you are the type of person who will actually fulfill the 12 hour contract (yes, a mere 12 hours a week - more on that later). At Nottingham, we were told that our places were pretty much guaranteed, but this may not be the case for all Universities. Either way, the application form asks the same questions a part-time job would - just sell yourself! What's more, as I also had the Russia part of my year abroad to arrange, I found it much easier to apply for this one programme rather than writing a CV and cover letter in French, and distributing it to hundreds of uninterested foreign employers.

Another big attraction is the aforementioned 12 hour contract, with a decent monthly wage to accompany it. Of course you have to work outside these 12 hours, but the job of organising lesson plans is a lot easier and funner than you may think - plus, what job doesn't require you to do the extra bits?

What's more, depending on where you are placed, the social side of the assistantship is almost guaranteed. There will be other assistants in your area, and not just from the UK. You never know, you could come back having learned a new language, or you could spend the whole time struggling to understand their humour, let alone accent.

'I don't want to become a teacher, so the assistantship is irrelevant' - false. I have no desire to become a teacher, if anything, the assistantship further confirmed this. However, the skills that you acquire from teaching English as a foreign language are invaluable, and transferable to plenty of career paths; organisation, creativity, leadership, and moreover it shows desirable personality traits, such as being confident and enthusiastic enough to inspire others (or at least stop them from falling asleep of a Monday morning).

I did, however, promise an unbiased opinion, which brings me on to the top concern of the assistantship - will I always be speaking English? I would be lying if I said that it was a wasted concern, but it does of course depend on the age of the children, and your location. For example, if you are placed in a big city with many other assistants and teaching English to secondary school pupils, you may find it harder to push your target language than someone who is in a remote town, teaching in a primary school with children and teachers who can't even say 'hello, my name is'. My retrospective answer? Either way, it's down to you to decide how much you want to immerse yourself in your target language and culture. Focus on your weak points - whether that be confidence issues, listening or oral skills, and push yourself to work on these throughout your time abroad.

I have plenty of tips for those of you that have already started, or are planning your year abroad, so my next post will be dedicated to just that! Take from this what you will, but as well as mentioning the straight details, I think it's just as important to iterate that I would not change my experience in France, including my choice to become a language assistant. I met some great people from around the world, developed all kinds of skills, and most importantly, learned a great deal not only about France and its language, but myself. Who knew I would survive living on my own in a country that feels so close, yet so foreign from my own?!

How to survive Russia #2

Following on from my previous post addressing manners (or lack of) in Russia, it seems only fitting that the next subject be on one of my favourite things to discuss/take pictures of: food.

I don't know about you, but whenever I visit a foreign country I spend hours trawling through what the lovely people of Trip Advisor have to say about the restaurants, cafés and local cuisine. If I ever went abroad and ended up in a tourist trap restaurant eating a burger and chips, I would be angry that I didn't spend longer trawling. If you want to experience the culture of somewhere different, you need to leave your own back at the airport terminal from which you came.

One of the main things that I have been asked since returning from Russia, was about the food and its stereotypes. So, now questions will be answered and advice given for any foodies like me.

I did not make this thing of beauty, google images did.

The first stereotype that immediately comes to mind is - борщ (borsch). Although it may have originated from Ukraine, the Russians have adopted it as their own, and I have to say, it's one of my favourite Russian dishes. With or without meat, and the thick, noticeable layer of oil coating, it's the best soup in the world (side note - I'm not a huge soup fan, so this may or may not be an exaggerated claim).
Aside from the colouring that's so bright it seems artificial, it's delicious. Be sure to go to Teremok (Теремок) for their borsch - it's the Russian version of fast food and it's great.

My own work of art - the soup

Unlike the borsch, other soups that I sampled were not as aesthetically pleasing. When I sent a picture of a vegetable, potato and egg soup that my lovely host slaved over the oven for, I didn't quite get the reception I'd hoped for - "I would rather starve than eat that" and "why did you throw up in a bowl and eat it?" You'll have to believe me when I say, it tastes better than it looks...



Aside from the soup, other traditional Russian foods include; blinis, cold/tepid meat pies, strange cottage cheese/scone type balls, shashlyk, smetana and a lot (I mean a lot) of cabbage and dill.
- Blinis can be filled with anything and everything. They can be thin like our British pancakes, or thicker and smaller topped with some raspberry coulis and smetana.

- Smetana is put with everything. In soup (see borsch and less appealing soup above), with sweet pastries and blinis, or sometimes I would even eat it on its own, because it tastes like a cross between natural yoghurt and sour cream.
- Tepid meat pies. Regardless of the temperature, they're delicious. If you're in St Petersburg (not sure about Moscow), go to the chain Stolle (Штолле). It's outdated and feels like a dodgy meeting place from the Soviet times, but it's cheap and the pies are good.

Strange cottage cheese scones with trusty smetana.

- Strange cottage cheese/scone type balls. They are exactly as I describe them, because there are no other words. I don't really know what's inside them, but I do remember cottage cheese being thrown about.
- Shashlyk is originally from Georgia (Russia, you gotta stop adopting other country's staple foods) and you may have had them in other parts of Eastern Europe, but I hadn't, and I loved them. Simply chicken on a stick. I had great ones along with lots of fresh, delicious sushi in Dve Palochki (Две Палочки).

I did find, however, that Russia is somewhat lacking on the lunch front, especially compared to the numerous patisseries and small cafés that you could grab a baguette from in France, or chains such as Costa, Pret à Manger and even the trusty old Boots meal deal. There are plenty of restaurants for you to delve yourself into Russian cuisine, it just depends on whether you want to spend a hefty sum on a sit down lunch everyday. I, for one, couldn't afford to do that for 13 weeks, so I am ashamed to admit that Subway proved to be a great back up!

You can really eat some amazing food in Russia, but you can equally walk into the wrong restaurant and eat something filled with ingredients that you never knew existed, and should cease to exist. My advice? Avoid chicken and anything wrapped in pork pie jelly that resembles dog food.

How to survive Russia #1

As melodramatic as the title may sound, this is how I saw my time in Russia - a (mental) survival guide. Even though I visited Russia once before, I was in some sort of University bubble with my non-Russian friends, spending 90% of our time in one dingey chain of bars, SPB (great 3 litre tanks of beer), and playing cards in numerous parks. The other 10% was spent in an apartment with a Russian host who was forever abandoning us for her dacha, or in a rubbish language school in a building that was about to collapse. So even with this experience, I didn't feel as though I had a huge advantage over those who had never been to Russia.

For those of you studying Russian, or equally for you tourists, I have compiled some pointers that I will spread across a few posts to help you survive the biggest country in the world. The first port of call - manners.

St Petersburg may well be one of the most Westernised cities in Russia, but don't let that fool you into thinking that our ways are even remotely similar. This may seem obvious to some, especially when there are plenty of universally known stereotypes about the Russians - "they're rude", "they're cold people", "they look at you funny", "the police are crazy" to name but a few. As a foreigner you may prove some of these stereotypes to be true, but in order to keep out of the suspicious minds of the Russians, you need to smile politely, accept them as cultural differences and rant to your friends later.

Firstly, I found that when walking along the street it was perfectly acceptable for a fragile old lady with no teeth, or a drunken, bald man to stop abruptly in front of you and waste no time in demanding how to reach somewhere. When I asked a teacher in a lesson how to get to a place of interest in my polite, British manner, she told me I was a complete weirdo to have said "excuse me" and "if you would be so kind" and "please". Be rude, she said. Well, rude as you see it, of course the Russians wouldn't bat an eyelid.

If you are studying and living with a host, it will most probably be a lovely woman who wants nothing more than to fatten you up and offer you a cup of tea every hour (чай, хочешь? хочешь чай?). Apparently the British drink tea at 5pm everyday, so when I was consistently turning down my hosts offer of a hot beverage in 25 degree heat (no, I don't believe that this could ever 'cool you down'), she was left baffled and defeated. I stood my ground with the tea drinking, as I was hot enough already in a bedroom with closed windows so as to not let in the deadly mosquitoes that are big and loud enough to leave you cowering under your covers every night. The sampling of strange looking Russian food, however, was difficult to avoid. I'm always open to trying new things, but when it looks like curdled cottage cheese, or has bugs oozing out of it, I'd rather stick to what I know. The thing is about the Russians, is that they are very persistent, and the thing is about the British, is that we are very polite. Somehow a sort of tradition was made according to my host - I would eat 'black bread' with every meal. I think I ate bread maybe 2 nights in a row with soup before she saw it as a dinner ritual. She would say "oh, of course Yeva ('Eve' in Russian) will have some bread. She always does." I could never say no, even if said bread was as dry and as hard as a brick.

If you're ambling down the street playing tourist, gaping at the beautiful buildings or equally at the homeless person with a huge toy tiger, you'll probably miss the Russians steaming towards you with no intention of moving aside. They will walk into you, perhaps nudging you that extra bit harder just as a warning to never look away from their watchful, determined eyes again. You might turn around and pull a "excuse me?! Do you mind?!" face, but to no prevail. They will already be nudging another poor tourist who is simply appreciating their city.

So just remember, if your mumma taught you manners, you probably don't need them in Russia. They'll just think you're either ungrateful or a creep. Or if you're really unlucky, both.

The end.

This post is slightly delayed since I left Russia on the 17th August, mainly because I've been so busy being a jet setter and settling in back home. So, after three challenging but great months in Russia, and an even more challenging but great 7 months in France, I am back on British turf - and it feels bittersweet.

I spent the last few weeks in Russia ticking off 'touristy' things that I had always planned on doing but had the attitude of "I'm here for 13 weeks, I'll save that one for next month." I managed to see/do everything I wanted to though, so the system does work! On that note, I'm going to do a post about the top attractions in St Petersburg, because it's an absolutely beautiful city and I want the world to see that too.

When my time in St Petersburg was nearing its end, I felt both excited and sad. Excited, that after a long year I was finally going back to the UK and not stepping foot on a plane in the foreseeable future. There was however, a ten day break between leaving Russia and coming home, which I spent in numerous European cities - namely in Bulgaria, Budapest, Rome and Cannes/Nice/Monaco, but more on that in a later post! After this travelling stint, I couldn't wait to get home, unpack my suitcase and leave it that way. No more living out of a case, anxiously awaiting my next flight in a mere couple of days. No more throwing up on planes because I'm a baby and can't handle turbulence. To have even a week without this sounds like heaven to me right now!

However, I was also gutted that leaving Russia meant the end of my year abroad. I cannot begin to explain how great this last year has been, as cliché as that may sound. I have learned so much about myself, met some incredible people from around the world (I have American friends now!), and been given so many great opportunities in the process. Now that I'm home, I'm hearing of friends whose year abroads are just beginning, and to them I say - good luck, make the most of every moment and please don't splash it across Facebook and Twitter, because I will 'unfriend' you purely out of jealousy.

Moscow: Round Two

Gorky Park - "I <3 Moscow"

Red Square

I decided that spending 13 weeks in Russia and only leaving St Petersburg once was not good enough. So, I went back to Moscow. Of course there are many other interesting, well-known cities of Russia, but the appeal of its capital was just too great. Cities are always so much less daunting when you visit them for a second time, and returning to Moscow was no exception. I didn't feel the intimidation and nervousness as I did the first time, and could fully appreciate the ram-packed but beautiful metro, as well as the abundance of great monuments, fountains and buildings.

What's more, I finally managed to visit the Kremlin! It's embarrassing to admit that I couldn't find it the last time - what else would be enclosed within the huge turreted walls covering a 275, 000 square feet space? I must, however, cut myself some slack seeing as the entrance into the Kremlin complex is a slightly ridiculous process. Treat this as a guide for future tourists, wondering around these walls looking lost and bewildered (or maybe it's just me):

The single entrance into the complex is within Alexander Garden. There, you must walk past the long queue of tourists that are lucky enough to be entering the Kremlin - do not fear, your time will come. You will find three small ticket offices with probably four or five long queues, because let's face it, only the British know proper queuing etiquette. There are a few options for tickets, all translated in broken, confusing English. Once you have purchased your tickets, walk back to join the long queue of tourists. 45 minutes later (or more) you may or may not be the other side of the wall. This all depends on whether you're the poor sod who can't read a word of Russian and didn't realise that backpacks and big bags are to be kept in lockers back at the ticket offices. Sorry, but you may or may not have a vendetta against President Putin - who knows what you have stored in that back pack, it's not like we're inspecting them anyway.

Once you're in, though, it's worth the long queues. The cluster of cathedrals in the centre of this vast space are absolutely beautiful, and on a sunny day appeared very photogenic. The Kremlin Palace was grand, as expected, but I'd be lying if I said I was a little underwhelmed. I'm not sure what I was expecting really. It's a bit like the image of Number 10 being this huge, eyebrow raising building, when in fact it's just a black building and a cool door.

Beautiful Cathedrals - Moscow Kremlin

I ate more glorious Russian food and lazed about in the famous Gorky Park - seriously, Hyde Park needs to take some pointers from this place! There's so much going on all year round, and seems like a great place to get kids off the streets (she says, being only 21 herself). I even learnt a new sport - Parkour. This involves people jumping from things. Think James Bond, or pretty much any super hero ever invented. They jump from buildings onto other buildings, or bars, or god knows what. Gorky Park had exactly this, but on a much smaller scale - they jumped from and onto wooden boxes.

All in all, another great weekend, and a further excuse for me to eat meat (my Russian host is a veggie) so I'm more than pleased. Just one more week to go in the Motherland!

Abbey Road eat your heart out - State Kremlin Palace

Documents, please.

Up until now I thought I was blending in with the Russians pretty well. I obviously don't scream tourist because I am often asked for directions, and we all know that this is a milestone moment for any person studying a foreign language. The aim here is to have emerged yourself so deeply into that language, that you suddenly begin to question your nationality yourself. You look in the mirror and think "do I look *insert nationality here* enough today?" And if the answer is yes, you will most probably be asked for directions. The ability to answer, on the other hand, is 9 times out of 10 impossible. But you're so happy that someone asked, and you don't even care that they need an answer, you just end up apologising anyway, you're English.

This momentous moment was met over a month ago, so understand my surprise when I was stopped by a policeman for jaywalking - crossing the road before the green man was, well, green. I have crossed these traffic lights 5 days a week for the past 10 weeks, and you rarely see the green man. You either have to wait 10 minutes, or risk your life crossing the roads full of crazy Russian drivers. Honestly, they are insane here. There is no concept of giving way to others, nor are there even lines on the roads. They just go for it. The worst thing, though, is the constant honking of horns when a car has not moved within the 5 second window it is given - but that's a whole other rant.

So, on this particular day we decided to put our lives in the hands of the crazy Russian drivers and cross, having not seen the two policemen standing on the other side. I have been told tales of foreigners being asked for their documents from suspecting policemen, and how awful the whole situation is, so when said policemen started to amble toward us I wanted to run the other way. Hearts beating fast, we were asked to prove that we were in the country legally, and then decided to play the ignorant, dumb English girls. "I'm so sorry officer, we didn't realise that the red man means do not cross." They laughed and muttered words of mockery no doubt, then one of them began pointing, saying "red... no! green... yes!" Clever, that one.

Needless to say, it was all a bit awkward and frightening, but really they were bored at 9:30 in the morning and fancied a laugh. I suppose I now have a story to tell, and have since understood jaywalking to be a serious offense in a country that proves itself to be more and more crazy every week.

A Weekend in Moscow

A month after my last post - I really am awful at this whole blogging thing. I have to admit though, I’ve been waiting on some sort of horrific event that would make for great writing. Alas, I have nothing… Russia has been surprisingly good for me! That’s not to say I haven’t done anything worth reporting - spending a weekend in Moscow might just make the cut.

Moscow: the capital of the largest country in the world. Home to almost 12 million people. So it won’t come as a surprise to anyone that it was both overwhelming and bloody brilliant. After travelling over 4 hours by train, we arrived in Moscow from St Petersburg. Much to my disappointment, it was not a Soviet Union style carriage that you’d imagine would have wooden seats and barely enough room to stretch out your big toe. Instead, it was spacious, modern, and had really bouncy seats. Luxury.

As soon as you step out of the train station, you’re greeted by hoards of tourists and businessmen. But, what do you expect? It’s the capital of the biggest country in the world (I have to keep reminding myself this, because it’s so easy to forget when you’re living here!) I couldn’t believe how contrasting Moscow is to SPB. It’s as if you have landed in another country. The infrastructure down to the mannerisms of people are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Apart from, maybe, their love for gold plated everything - that’s definitely a national thing.

One thing I did notice, and have noticed whilst living in St Petersburg, is their lack of accommodating for foreigners who have no idea what the Cyrillic alphabet is. Whether it’s signs for roads or advertisements for boat trips, I would find it verging on impossible to navigate around Russia without at least knowing the alphabet. I often wonder how a non-Russian speaking person sees the Cyrillic alphabet, how they pronounce words that look more like small pictures. It’s such a geeky linguist thing to do, but it really is hilarious.

There was so much to see and do and I didn’t have enough time/energy to trek across the huge city. I even didn’t have time to see the Moscow Kremlin. Only the first thing anyone thinks about when Moscow is mentioned. Well, it wasn’t really that I didn’t have time, it was more that 1) I couldn’t actually find it (turns out I was practically looking at it, there was just the small matter of a high wall obstructing my view), and 2) it was closed on Sunday so that the lucky bastards who have graduated from high school can have their Summer ball in Putin’s official residence. I would just like to point out that, even though I was unable to attend, my high school summer ball was in a castle. Okay, that sounds a lot grander than I was hoping it would… My aim was to highlight how much more brilliant a school ball is when it’s held in the Kremlin. Point not well made.

The inability to visit the Kremlin aside, my favourite find of the city was Café Pushkin. I’m going to contradict myself again and admit that it wasn’t exactly my ‘find’ - in fact, Trip Advisor owns that right. Nonetheless, it was probably the best meal I have ever eaten. The building was made into a restaurant only 10 years ago, but the interior is such that you feel as though you’re dining during the times of the great Russian poet, Alexander Pushkin. We ate on the third floor - the library. It felt decadent with the high ceilings, tall book cases, a huge antique globe, and waiters fitted in Pushkin-style attire. It wasn’t just a meal, it was an experience. An expensive experience, but a great one nonetheless.

As much as I enjoyed my weekend in Moscow, I was glad to return to Westernised St Petersburg with its beautiful buildings on every corner and canals weaving through the city centre. I really haven’t got it half bad here!

Overlooking Moscow

Café Pushkin, Moscow

St Basil's Cathedral

Peterhof, St Petersburg

Peterhof, St Petersburg

Turning 21 in SPB

Since I worked out I was to be spending my 21st birthday in Russia, my friends and family have heard nothing but my whinging and whining. “I’m so livid I was born in June - why do I have to have a miserable 21st in Russia? What have I done to deserve this?” In hindsight, it was a spoilt brattish thing to say and someone should have told me to get over myself (or maybe one or two did…)

However, I turned 21 two days ago, and I must ask myself; what the hell was I whinging about?
Having been here for a month, I knew where and how I wanted to spend the day. This mainly consisted of drinking champagne and wine, eating (a lot) and taking ridiculous pictures on my new toy. At this point I would like to mention that I now own a hefty amount of Apple products, to the point where I’m having to divide tasks and activities between them all just to make it seem worth it.

I have a great friend here who was equally as excited for the days plans, who bought tickets for the ballet tomorrow, and who I’m grateful was with me. I was also lucky enough to have my dad come out to St Petersburg for a few days over my birthday, not only did it mean I had family to celebrate with, but more cards and presents were brought out! Okay, now I’m a spoilt brat. We ate sushi and drank champagne for lunch, then an hour and a half later drank more wine and ate the biggest and most delicious steak I’ve ever had/the only steak I’ve ever had (guilty). The restaurant was oh-so-posh, we were given a large shot glass full of some beetroot concoction that i had no idea how to eat. I tried the only thing I knew to do with such equipment and tossed it back like a shot, but it was too thick and I ended up suspending my head in the air for longer than is socially acceptable.

What’s more, it seems that the Russians are big on birthdays too. I was showered with congratulations (on being alive?!) and small gifts from my host and her sister whom I’d said hello to before, her best pal Tanya, my teacher at school and even the woman who takes us on excursions. Apparently the day you were born is pretty big here - a nation after my own heart.

Finding a ‘beach’ in a city is the best thing in the world.

St Nicholas Naval Cathedral - one of the oldest churches in St Petersburg, Russia

I hate pigeons.

Спас На Крови/Church of Our Saviour on Spilled Blood

Didn’t fancy flying straight home from Russia, so me and my friend have decided to experience more of Europe on the way. Sunny Beach Bulgaria, Budapest, Rome and Cannes. I kinda want it to be the end of August, but then again, I’m enjoying Russia too much. Such a sweet life.

week one.

Over the last couple of weeks, months, or maybe even since 2010 when I chose my degree, I have been building myself up to live in Russia. Dramatic, I know, but having never visited the country (aside from 2 weeks in 2011), the news reports of terrorism, meteorites, political protests and whatnot can put you on edge.

However… I moved to Saint Petersburg last Saturday, and I’m actually a bit disappointed to say that - as of yet - everything has passed by without even a glitch. Only a week and a half ago was I telling everyone to prepare for my return in a coffin, and now, I am sat in my tiny bed below Ros’ mezzanine that is practically in space, in an apartment that can only be described as “kooky", with an elderly Russian woman who couldn’t be any nicer or more hospitable if she tried. I even survived my first night out. We went to a bar called “Mishka", which is in a basement and serves drinks like vodka, lime and wild berries - vodka being 3/4 if not more of the cocktail. Not only were the drinks tasty, but the men didn’t grab and harass you like in France. Always sign of a good night.

What’s more, the language school is great - challenging, but great. I’m speaking more Russian in a day than a whole week at University, although France got in the way and my Russian is now rusty/awful, but I manage to keep up with the intermediate group all the same.

Saint Petersburg has also welcomed me with extremely warm and open arms (it was 26 degrees last week), yet being British, I complained it was “just a little too hot" and the next day “oh I wish it was a little warmer". Ros and I have also realised that Brits talk about the weather too much, but I can’t help commenting on my experience with what a British summer attempts to reach every year.

Here’s to a just as great second week - maybe I won’t be returning in that coffin after all.

View from the end of my street - Church of Our Saviour on Spilled Blood

I know I said I wouldn't but...

…I really have neglected this blog. I’m an awful person, working 12 hours a week and skiing every once in a while/a lot is tiring and time consuming. I now only have 5 days left in Grenoble and too much has happened for me to possibly begin to write about it.

The final teaching week is upon us, and I have to say, as much as the annoying French brats have got on my nerves at times , it has been slightly hard saying goodbye! There were some classes I didn’t want to thank for “being such great students" but I did it anyway. The teachers here put absolutely no confidence in their students, constantly putting them down - laughing at their pronunciation of “clotheses" and their incapability of sounding the letter “h". I sometimes feel bad for the kids, thus taking on role of motivator. The last thing we need is pushing even more young people away from learning languages, purely because they’re too terrified to speak!

On another note, it’s absolutely boiling here (for once, it’s not raining) so I’m going to be typically British by getting my ghostly pale legs out, blinding all in sight, and sunbathe in a park or up the Bastille until my skin turns pink. Because, of course, why would I want to use sun cream when this is probably the only Summer weather I’m gonna get?!

I wish I kept a book containing all the hilarious comments that my French students say, here’s one of them:

Me: “So is foie gras really unhealthy?"

Girl 1: “Yes but I eat it at every chance becoz it is so tasty"

Girl 2: “Bof, it shows"

The teacher even joined in clapping and congratulating girl number 2 for being so quick. Jesus.

today...

I asked a student what his plans were for the weekend. He replied with "I will sleep on my girlfriend" - I then made an awkward ‘joke’ about how uncomfortable that must be for his girlfriend. Not only is his English appalling, but his humour is too.

so, it's been a while...

I think that I must have subconsciously forgotten that I had this blog, and it is looking somewhat neglected seeing as my last text post was way back in November! I can’t even begin to write what has happened in the past two months. Life in France tends to be pretty unpredictable, but nonetheless greatly entertaining. I have also found myself to be quite the jetsetter as of late… In the space of two weeks over the Christmas period I flew Lyon-London, London-Amsterdam, London-Lyon, and am now back in my tiny, overpriced studio apartment in Grenoble only to fly back to London next week and to Milan in three. I can’t even keep up with myself.

So, here’s a brief run through of my year abroad adventures over the last two months:

• Plenty of skiing:living in the ‘capital of the Alps’ means you must frequent the slopes as often as is bearable. Everytime I go skiing, I am reminded at how lucky I am to spend half a year in such an amazing place as a compulsory part of my degree, but also how gutted the students doing a subject other than languages must feel. I don’t feel this, however, when faceplanting the mountain and doing multiple flips in the air, with one ski wedged in a huge block of ice and the other half way across the run. At this point, I actually just feel like crying, which is exactly what I did.


• More consummation of wine:when in France I have learned to never turn your nose up at cheap wine. The label may look as though it was designed by a 4 year old, and the pricetag may say €1,99 but this is only to keep the wine snobs at bay while us stingey students clear the shelves with what may be one of the best wines of the store.


• My dad came to visit:which is when I experienced my first six hour teaching day nursing a most unwelcome hangover. I swear he’s a worse influence than my friends.


• More attempts at improving myfrançais:still working on it, get back to me in another four months.


• I purchased a kettle: I no longer have to live like a caveman, boiling water on the stove whenever I want a cuppa. Never have I been so grateful for a white plastic appliance, before now.


• A trip to Amsterdam:technically nothing to do with my year abroad, but was an amazing trip nonetheless.Post to come!


• More crazy nights in Bucana:I’m not sure if that is even the correct spelling - by the time we arrive I’m too drunk to read the sign. I feel as though I invest too much of my hard earned Euros in that bar, I would like something back please Farid. (The barman who is hilarious and nice to us)

Here’s to me keeping up the blog (once more) and experiencing more funny, and perhaps interesting, encounters to fill the posts. The latter, I cannot guarantee.

The perfect lunch @ The Bookworm Café, Grenoble.