So I'm finally back from ze dead. Well not exactly, given that I've been galavanting across Europe for the past two months, but, one could use that phrase to describe my ever so sporadic blogging habits. And you know, the funny thing is, I've got shitloads to write about, I really do, but I have no idea where to begin.
Let me just start by saying that I'm currently living in the south of France; Montpellier, to be exact, and I'm here for a semester, which basically translates to drowning oneself in alcohol, sleeping in trains, clinking glasses with strangers, and well, just travelling, while I'm not attending class, of course.
I was utterly mistaken when I assumed that learning the French language for 30 class-hours (and securing an excellent grade, I might add) before arriving in this country would do me good. But noooo, no matter how hard you try at saying something in French, it just. Doesn't. Sound. Right. Yes, the language is beautiful when the natives speak it, but it's hilarious, and extremely embarrassing when you're trying to convince yourself that what you're saying is exactly what the French want or need to hear. A major let-down there.
So here's my real story.
I love and hate the French.
Love? Yes indeed. Their sense of style is flawless, they are well groomed, good-looking, classy, and don't get me started on their choice of perfumes. They're god-gifted with that, I tell you.
Their glorious wines and scrumptious desserts are worth mentioning, and so is their gazillion variety of (stinky and repulsive) cheese. Every grocery store probably has a huge section just for displaying the different kinds of cheese.
So why do I hate them? Well, for starters, I have been stranded in train stations multiple times because the labour unions in France decided to call for strikes without any warning whatsoever. They just LOVE to skip work, relax, and have a good time (and they're bloody good at that). It's true. Come holiday season, and we'll all find ourselves falling prey to these lazy madames and monsieurs, abandoning their workplace while we hopelessly wait for another way to get home. Another obvious reason would be, that most of them don't bother to learn English! 'Nuff said!
Maybe hate is too strong a word. Let's just stick to these-are-the-things-about-the-French-that-annoy-me. On another note, I'd have to admit that I do admire them plenty. I do, I do.
This is all.