Articles from Abroad 2008/09
Below are links to articles that students on a year abroad have written to tell us a bit about their life in a foreign country.Chris Gough's article - Toulouse, France
We learn in this article about the life and times of Chris Gough, third year French and German student, who is currently studying in Toulouse, France.Wish You Were Here...?
Many of you are probably wondering what all the fuss is about. I mean, what could possibly be so great about spending a year in a foreign country, without Durham, without friends and, above all, without Klute?
For some, it’s just a compulsory part of their modern languages degree. However, for most (get ready for an extended list of clichés) it’s about finding oneself, about learning things one could never find in any library or lecture theatre…
I must say that I’m yet to experience any of the above: I found myself years ago; an arrogant chauvinist with a penchant for pomposity. And as far as becoming a rounded individual is concerned, Jayne’s Place has done sterling work thus far.
Before one can even begin to take advantage of the benefits on offer in a foreign land, there is a number of rather disorganised hurdles to overcome. Even getting to Toulouse is an endeavour worthy of the greatest mythical hero if you live anywhere north of Milton Keynes, and so outside the catchment area of Gatwick. Then, there’s the weight limit imposed on luggage by the fascist airlines: Ryanair and Easyjet are notorious for their adamantine approach to weight limits. Usually, one has to condense one’s life into a travel sized, 20kg receptacle. I had trouble enough doing this, so goodness knows how my female colleagues fared.
Once I had finally arrived in Toulouse and had paid my €20 (about £16 at the time of writing) for the taxi ride into town, I faced an even graver problem than the earlier luggage detritus…
I arrived at my French halls of residence at about 5 p.m. – perhaps not the most unusual time of day to expect things to be open. But alas, the reception shut at 4 p.m., meaning that I had no idea where my room was, let alone a key with which to access it.
Very fortunately, I managed to get a reasonable priced hotel room near the town centre and I moved into my ‘room’ the next day.
Toulouse itself is a beautiful city: the town hall putting almost all others in the shade with its subtle pink façade and the sprawling square in front of it. The people here, unlike the Parisians, are incredibly friendly. You would be hard-pushed to find someone who would refuse to engage you in conversation. And the weather? Well in October, Toulouse experiences temperatures which would leave Brighton’s beaches packed and Reading without use of their hosepipes.
My first impressions of my cell were not great. Flicking the light switch was futile, as none of the 3 lights in the room worked. Having told reception about this, it took them 24 hours to put down their Gauloises and foie gras and come and fix the lights.
Next, I set about trying to make some friends on my dingy corridor. However, pickings were slim at best; a 30 year old Vietnamese aeronautics apprentice, whose name I still can’t pronounce, and a trainee librarian called Jasper, who had the personality of one of the mould growths on my bedroom wall. This was unlikely to be a loud, alcohol-fuelled corridor.
My first visit to the university (a 40 minute bus and subway ride) where I was to study was an eye-opener to say the least. If the architect was trying to keep in the style of the surrounding area – run-down blocks of flats and ubiquitous urban decay – he did an excellent job. The organisation was almost as shoddy as the building in which it was housed. Having filled out the needlessly complicated registration form (with a lot of help from some very kind French students), it was, for me anyway, a matter of turning up to whichever classes you wanted. Needless to say, I gave myself a particularly strenuous timetable involving a 4 day weekend and no morning classes whatsoever…
So, would I say the year abroad is a good thing? Put simply, yes it is. It really is the best way of learning a language, my French having improved greatly in a few weeks, and having to live in a foreign country will leave you able to cope with anything.
Above all, it makes you feel lucky to be at a university where the administrative staff at least know what day of the week it is…span
For some, it’s just a compulsory part of their modern languages degree. However, for most (get ready for an extended list of clichés) it’s about finding oneself, about learning things one could never find in any library or lecture theatre…
I must say that I’m yet to experience any of the above: I found myself years ago; an arrogant chauvinist with a penchant for pomposity. And as far as becoming a rounded individual is concerned, Jayne’s Place has done sterling work thus far.
Before one can even begin to take advantage of the benefits on offer in a foreign land, there is a number of rather disorganised hurdles to overcome. Even getting to Toulouse is an endeavour worthy of the greatest mythical hero if you live anywhere north of Milton Keynes, and so outside the catchment area of Gatwick. Then, there’s the weight limit imposed on luggage by the fascist airlines: Ryanair and Easyjet are notorious for their adamantine approach to weight limits. Usually, one has to condense one’s life into a travel sized, 20kg receptacle. I had trouble enough doing this, so goodness knows how my female colleagues fared.
Once I had finally arrived in Toulouse and had paid my €20 (about £16 at the time of writing) for the taxi ride into town, I faced an even graver problem than the earlier luggage detritus…
I arrived at my French halls of residence at about 5 p.m. – perhaps not the most unusual time of day to expect things to be open. But alas, the reception shut at 4 p.m., meaning that I had no idea where my room was, let alone a key with which to access it.
Very fortunately, I managed to get a reasonable priced hotel room near the town centre and I moved into my ‘room’ the next day.
Toulouse itself is a beautiful city: the town hall putting almost all others in the shade with its subtle pink façade and the sprawling square in front of it. The people here, unlike the Parisians, are incredibly friendly. You would be hard-pushed to find someone who would refuse to engage you in conversation. And the weather? Well in October, Toulouse experiences temperatures which would leave Brighton’s beaches packed and Reading without use of their hosepipes.
My first impressions of my cell were not great. Flicking the light switch was futile, as none of the 3 lights in the room worked. Having told reception about this, it took them 24 hours to put down their Gauloises and foie gras and come and fix the lights.
Next, I set about trying to make some friends on my dingy corridor. However, pickings were slim at best; a 30 year old Vietnamese aeronautics apprentice, whose name I still can’t pronounce, and a trainee librarian called Jasper, who had the personality of one of the mould growths on my bedroom wall. This was unlikely to be a loud, alcohol-fuelled corridor.
My first visit to the university (a 40 minute bus and subway ride) where I was to study was an eye-opener to say the least. If the architect was trying to keep in the style of the surrounding area – run-down blocks of flats and ubiquitous urban decay – he did an excellent job. The organisation was almost as shoddy as the building in which it was housed. Having filled out the needlessly complicated registration form (with a lot of help from some very kind French students), it was, for me anyway, a matter of turning up to whichever classes you wanted. Needless to say, I gave myself a particularly strenuous timetable involving a 4 day weekend and no morning classes whatsoever…
So, would I say the year abroad is a good thing? Put simply, yes it is. It really is the best way of learning a language, my French having improved greatly in a few weeks, and having to live in a foreign country will leave you able to cope with anything.
Above all, it makes you feel lucky to be at a university where the administrative staff at least know what day of the week it is…span
