Office Antics - Year Abroad #4

My next article for Inter:Mission about the fun of an inappropriate office... 

Upon embarking on a 6 month placement in a French marketing and PR agency in Bordeaux, I was fairly confident of what to expect; lots of coffee-making, plenty of scanning and many embarrassing language-barrier moments. Officially only an intern in the ‘Community Management’ department (my job description in French … really), my expectations of tedious and trivial tasks were quite wrong.

It goes without saying that the communication issues were incredibly prevalent at the beginning of my placement, often leading to hesitant nodding in the affirmative to tasks even if I didn’t have a clue of the instructions. However, the scanning and barista tasks were few and far between. Instead, I was treated like a fully capable employee, reflected in every part of my life at the agency, except rather unfortunately, by my salary (a big thank you to the European tax payers, the Erasmus grant is a wonderful thing when your salary just about covers your rent). This means that although I only earn about 2 euros an hour, doing ‘real’ work means that I am getting to know my colleagues quite well. Perhaps too well.

An eclectic group of personalities, made up of more interns than full-time staff (no, I’m actually not joking), by the end of the first week I realised that formality was not necessary in this office. The telling moments included being added on SnapChat by more than one colleague in week 1, over-hearing someone in the creative department ask someone on the PR team if she was pregnant in front of the boss and a client (she wasn’t) and being offered something quite strong at our first work soirée. Needless to say I am always on my best behaviour, much to their disappointment and often pretend to find understanding French a little harder than it is.

Although my first few weeks were made up of memorable and fantastically inappropriate moments, my most amusing occasion in the office so far has to be the day when I stumbled across the profile of one of my colleagues on an online dating website (I know you’re wondering what I was doing on there myself, well you can read all about my online dating experiencein France in my previous article). Thinking of this as the perfect way to contribute to lunchtime conversation and get a foot on the banter ladder, I prepared to bring it up over a baguette-induced silence the following day. I perfected my speech, ensuring I had the right vocabulary to hand…their response? “Oh, of course we know all about it, our previous intern found him on there too!”

I could not have asked for a better year abroad job, and I’m not just saying that through fear that my boss will read this article. My colleagues are patient with my language gaps and encouraging of initiative and responsibility. Usefully for me they don’t speak any English (except the mandatory Friends quotes) and they are rather keen to teach me both formal and informal French. Although I do make plenty of cups of tea every day, they are mostly for me and, as of yet I have never been asked to photocopy anything. 

A Tea-A-Day Keeps the Doctor Away

During my year abroad, I'm working for Com' by AVM and regularly contribute to their blog. Here's a short article I wrote about Tea-A-Day (find the original article here). 

Tea-A-Day

Ever needed a reminder of the date while enjoying a brew in the morning? Now you can with Tea-A-Day!

The family-run German firm, Hälssen & Lyon with creative agency, Kolle Rebbe have come up with an ingenious way of combining your morning tea with your daily calendar. Beautiful to look at, the idea is wonderfully simple; tear off the page for that day and place in your mug of steaming water. Watch with awe as the tea infuses into the water.

With a different infusion each day that is finely pressed into strips, the innovative idea looks stylish and elegant whilst being fantastically practical. The German company who started in 1879 certainly stick to their slogan, ‘The World of Tea under One Roof’. The 365 different strips are delicately flavoured to ensure that your morning infusion gets you ready for the day ahead.

Unfortunately for us, however, the charming calendar is unavailable for the mass market for the time being. Only created as a prototype for a limited special addiction, extensive development of the product will be undertaken before we can get our hands on it.

Watch the video here:

Internet Interaction - Year Abroad #3

Next up on Inter:Mission: a bit of an experiment...

After almost 2 months on my year abroad, I decided that I would stop leaving my love life up to the Gods, and I would take matters into my own hands. No more waiting for Jean-Pierre to step around the corner in his stripy shirt and beret and take my breath away, it was time to get proactive. After thinking through my options briefly, and overhearing a conversation between colleagues, my mind was made up; online dating.

I think attempting online dating is the perfect example of something that has captured my year abroad spirit. I can’t imagine that I would create any such profile in the UK, predominantly through fear of cyber-running into someone that I know, but when in France my self-judgement seems to go a bit hazy. I can always say that I did it for an article anyway… Justification out of the way, a bit of research led me to the most popular French online dating website, ‘adopteunmec.com’ or as we could translate, ‘adopt a guy’.

As the title suggests, the website is heavily focused on girls having all the power. While men pay 30euros for the privilege of a picture of themselves and a couple of descriptive sentences, girls get the service free of charge. Not only do men have to pay, but in order to send a girl an email, the girl has to ‘accept their charm’ before one word can be exchanged. I like the sound of this already, no creepy 50 year olds asking you if, ‘you have ever been with an older man’ (apparently that happens). The site continues to amuse with  sections such as ‘sales’ where you can find the ‘best’ guys easily under categories such as ‘geek chic’ and ‘sporty’. My favourite aspect has to be the option to, ‘add to cart’ when you find a man you’d like to chat to, so it is basically just like being on Asos.com (more justification you see). The attention to detail on the site really makes the whole experience quite agreeable, although perhaps more so if you’re a girl…

Without a care in the world, I set up a profile indicating my Erasmus status and a photo chosen by Slovak (read my previous article to find out more about him). It was worryingly easy, within 5 minutes my photo had been approved and I was starting to feel a sense of that phrase Miley has us all arguing over, ‘female empowerment’. Flicking through images of 21-26 year old men within 50 kilometres of Bordeaux, I couldn’t quite escape the feeling that I was being horrendously shallow, but perhaps that’s the point of girl power.

After a necessary cull of many of the ‘charms’ and an addition of a second photo, the seemingly more normal guys began to surface. A few ‘bonjour, ca va?’ messages later and I already have a date night set up with a guy whose profile picture has him holding a puppy. Assuming that it will be a disaster, I really have very little faith, I’ve asked Slovak to ring me an hour into the date to ensure I’m safe. No doubt I will be back at my laptop keyboard shortly writing about how disastrous the whole thing was… I do hope he brings the puppy though. 

Dangerous Domestics - Year Abroad #2

My second column for Inter:Mission, this time I decided to talk about moving in with strangers...

When you make the decision that you want to live with other people (rather than in a studio flat) on your year abroad, you put your hand into a lucky-dip of unknown personalities. You may create future friendships that are to last, or you could find yourself slap bang in the middle of disaster. When you decide, as I did, to live in an Erasmus flat where the people change every few months, you are multiplying that risk by 10 and adding a pinch of communication trouble into the melting pot too.

When I first moved into my 4 bedroom, ‘this’ll do’ apartment in Bordeaux, the first person I met was a lovely Austrian girl studying French in the city. We immediately hit it off, chatting about lots of things we had in common and about how beautiful Bordeaux was. Perfect, at least I’ll have one friend. Not so, she soon informed me that she was in her last week, and she didn’t fail to add that the other guy, a Slovakian, was an interesting personality.

She was right, the Slovakian guy was an interesting personality. Although rather charming, especially if you’re into the Russian/eastern European accent, I soon discovered that he was affording his travels through blogging. ‘How interesting, I like to blog too. What do you blog about?’ He has 100 webpages apparently, and one of the most prominent money-makers focuses on a lovely group of 5 English boys called One Direction. Ah. The second eyebrow was raised when I asked his age and he responded that it is a, ‘secret that even my ex-girlfriend doesn’t know’. Of course I headed straight to Facebook, (I’m slowly discovering that an obsession with Facebook stalking is a decidedly English attribute) and after much searching of birthday posts and graduation years, the most I could deduce is that he’s older than 33. He still won’t tell me.

The next to enter my flat of eclectic eccentricities was a French girl who couldn’t understand a word of French that either Mr Slovak or I said. Although I am well aware that my French is not perfect, it is at least comprehensible. Whether I was confused, insulted or mildly irritated, her bedtime of 8pm on the second evening told me everything I needed to know about the longevity of our friendship (or lack thereof). Even Slovak said he didn’t fancy her, and that’s saying something.

Despite the mystery of an Erasmus flat, I truly believe that my year abroad is designed for experiences like this and I love it. When else will I get the opportunity to learn about different cultures so intensely and be able to shout Britain’s praises to others? ‘The Olympics was just such a huge success, you see’. Also, my room has a lock. That helps.

You can find the original article on Inter:Mission Bristol here.

Is Free Content Ruining Journalism?

The internet is a haven for anyone and his dog to write down their inner most thoughts. Blogs have become a dime a dozen, with every teenage girl writing about her One Direction obsession and most middle-aged house-wives filling their afternoon hours blogging about cake making. Suddenly everyone has become a journalist and thus journalism has taken the same path as the word, ‘literally’, it has become meaningless.

However, the teenage ‘Directioner’ isn’t planning on making a living from her ramblings, her blog is the 21^st century equivalent of the diary that we hid under our pillow, if you don’t Google One Direction, which I personally don’t plan to do, then you’ll be blissfully unaware of her waffling. The difference is that people like Arianna Huffington do make their living from free content. Unfortunately, her rising bank balance is fairly unequal to those who write for her. The Huffington Post, essentially a glorified blog in itself, is the torch-bearer at our much-loved journalism’s funeral. The 3000 contributors to the site are unpaid, unreliable and unmonitored. Fact-checking seems to have become irrelevant and proof-reading has become a thing of the past. I’m not a stranger to Huff Post myself, but the US site reaches 85million unique users per month and it is quickly becoming one of the most visited websites on the internet. 

To step away from nattering on about the depreciation of journalistic integrity, (I can spend a while criticising The Daily Mail for their typos and false information), free content is a disaster for the published press as well. It is over-written that newspapers are on the decline with The Guardian estimating that they’re in their last decade and cut backs across magazines. Newspapers can no longer afford to support their writers, why is it that we no longer feel journalists (or writers at least) deserve to make a living from their skill? And what does it mean for print journalism?  

The fundamental destruction of journalism is not the fact that we now read from a lit-up electronic device rather than paper, but that the young generation who write for the lit-up devices use it as an excuse to boycott established and important journalistic practice. It is all too easy to publish a made-up statistic or a false statement therefore filling the minds of others with gibberish and grot. By all means create your corner of the internet to write about that banana and apple muffin you made last week, but do it for you. For the public, bring back the editors and slow the process down, or our children won’t know the difference between their, ‘there’ and their, ‘they’re’.   

A Disastrous Date - Year Abroad #1

I have started a fortnightly column on the fantastic website Inter:MIssion Bristol where I'm going to bare my soul and talk about some of the embarrassing things that happen on year abroads. My first piece is all about a date that went disastrously wrong...

Image: bizeminervois

After 1 month in the wilderness, I decided that it was just about time to dive head-first into finding my Jean-Pierre. By that, I mean the stereotypical year abroad boyfriend; floppy hair, sickeningly romantic but not quite interesting enough for it to last the long distance after you leave. I should point out here, for interest, that we were advised to invest in such boyfriends by Bristol; apparently it will be ‘wonderful for our language skills’. Perhaps invest is not the right word.

Upon making my decision, there were many things to be considered. Should I fancy someone at the office? Should I take to one of my roommates? Should I join an online dating website? Alas, I apparently decided the best option was to meet a man at 3am in a promising location…in the street. I should definitely mention at this point that I wasn’t actually drunk, nor he, but I accept that it’s not the most romantic of scenarios. Well, anyway, it gets worse.

After agreeing to go on a date with this boy, we exchanged numbers and each headed our own way. After multiple triple texts, a Facebook add and a doubling up of those excessive texts as Facebook chats, it began to dawn on me that the street might not have been the best place to meet someone. ‘Don’t be so judgemental’ I told myself, ‘he might not be that bad’. He was that bad.

Our date night was set, we were to meet on the steps of the beautiful Bordeaux Grand Theatre. As I left my flat, allowing myself the perfect time to be between 5 and 10 minutes late, I heard my phone ring. Apparently he was 15 minutes early; he just wanted to let me know. Not too strange, but not normal date night etiquette I would suggest.

After meeting and having the mandatory awkward not-sure-which-side-to-kiss-first hello that so often happens in France, we headed off in a direction that I assumed was to find a bar. Not so. He thought it was appropriate to take me to his hotel room, he’d bought a bottle of wine apparently. After seeing the sheer panic on my face, we agreed to change his plans and head for an Irish pub, in a public location, where there are other people.

If I hadn’t had enough blinkingly obvious deal-breakers already, now came the explosive bomb that finally blasted away my naivety. ‘So what do you do for a living?’ I asked politely, ‘Oh, I sell sex toys’ he responded casually. I was momentarily amused to find out that apparently the word for ‘sex toys’ is the same in French, but then realisation dawned on me; this embarrassingly keen, wildly inappropriate vibrator vendor was not going to be my Jean-Pierre. Time to make my excuses and leave.

You can find the original article on Inter:Mission Bristol here.

If only...

Tea-Total in Wine Country - Life In A French Office

I was recently very flattered to be asked to write a piece for the Travel section of the University of Bristol’s newspaper, Epigram. Two months into my time in Bordeaux, I decided the best theme for the article would be my attempts to integrate into a French working environment…

Image: Flickr: Aurdesco

One of the greatest benefits of having a year abroad is that, for one year, we briefly leave behind the 'Bristol bubble' and get to dip our toes into the paddling pool of real life. Of course, there are many that choose to study. However, the majority of British students who go to France opt for life at a desk with a cup of strong coffee in one hand and an AZERTY keyboard to tackle with the other.

Like most Bristol students, I had done various bits of work experience where I sat at a desk pretending not to be on Facebook, so I felt I had a fairly good grasp of the way things work in the corportate world. However, on my first day in my marketing office in Bordeaux, I learnt very quickly that things are somewhat different here. The first earth-shattering, fear-inducing panic attack came when I discovered that my office, shockingly, didn't have a kettle. Apparently on the odd occassion that they make tea, also sacrilegiously plumping for fruit tea over black tea, the microwave is their method of choice.

The tea debate was made even worse by that fact that the French word for kettle, brouilloire, is possibly the hardest word for an English person to pronounce. Therefore, as I resigned myself to the fact that the french prefer coffee to tea, I decided to embrace my surroundings, or as the cliché goes, 'broaden my horizons' and made the transition. You may think that I am over-dramatising a mere swap from tea to coffee, but my next shock came in a more physical manner; their coffee was strong enough to give me the shakes.

Leaving the ktichen behind, I was there to work rather than to drink hot drinks after all, I was soon showed to my desk and introduced to my colleagues. Cue awkward cheek kissing. The interesting thing about working in your second language is that the simplest task becomes a nightmare. Sending a quick email to your boss sends shivers down your spine: what if it is littered with mistakes? Using Microsoft Word leads you to believe that your computer is trying to trick you as 'ctrl + B' no longer turns your words bold. Why is it trying to search your document instead? However, all this pales into insignificance the first time you hear the dulcet tones of a ringing phone. You look around to discover that you are the only one in the room. You brace yourself as you pick up the phone: 'Bonjour ... pardon?' 

Despite the many difficulties I've faced during my first two months in a French office — being asked to translate 'Sidebar Widget' is fairly high on the list — I have also learnt a huge amount. My favourite aspect of the office has to be lunchtime where we sit down together to share bread and cheese in the middle of the table. Even though I may still occasionally hide my Facebook in the bottom corner of my screen, or pretend to work when I'm actually writing an article for Epigram, I have certainly gained a fresh outlook on office life. I'm looking forward to diving in permanently sometime in the future.

You can find the original article on Epigram's website here and the complete E2 Living Section on Issuu here.

'20 Things 20-Year-Olds Don't Get' - A Response

I recently read the most fantastic article by Jason Nazar on Forbes about young people and their attitude to business. The no-nonsense style of the article was a change from the molly-coddled, spoon-fed and watered-down approach of treating young people in the 21^st century, especially by career professionals (Huffington Post recently argued, rather mockingly, that always being told we are special is ultimately making us unhappy). While I wouldn’t personally like to work under Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, Nazar’s example of the most valuable boss, being told off for my future mistakes before I make them could be useful. Business is not about Miss Honey telling us what to do and giving us a big cuddle if we don’t succeed, it’s about pro-activity and initiative. I imagine it’s also about having a thick skin too.

Nazar talks about the emergence of social media in the business world and its longevity, or lack thereof. Although many would be offended at his suggestion that ‘social media is not a career’, his point is clear. Social Media is unreliable and may disappear as quickly as it arrived. Reports suggest that Twitter has already reached the top of its graph and is now on the decline and even Instagram feels the need to introduce advertising to prevent social media mortality being a reality. As Nazar states, Social Media is a tool for marketing that should be adapted to other business, rather than be the business itself. Social Media is simple, it is isolated and above all, it is unreliable. Business may not be reliable either, but it involves interaction with people and the formation of business relationships that can’t be acquired from posting on a Facebook page a few times a day.

Would we ask to go home if this happened?
Image: WeBlogCartoons

His comment, ‘Stop hiding behind your computer. Business gets done on the phone and in person.  It should be your first instinct’ is of particular relevance to my generation. We don’t pick up the phone anymore and many don’t even bother with email. In order to contact the Graduate Recruiters for the Big 4, it seems as though my comrades simply head to the Facebook page and add a comment to the long list of obvious and unnecessary questions before them. The way I see it, hiding behind our computers is making us anonymous, uninteresting and ridding us of all initiative. Asking questions has its time and place, but working something out for yourself is invaluable.

While I don’t agree with everything Nazar says, such as his rejection of tweet reading, the overall essence of his article appears to be a comment on laziness. Lack of networking, hiding behind social media and sending blanket emails; it is all easy. Picking up the phone, meeting business professionals and taking responsibility for our own mistakes may be tough, but it is rewarding. The Co-Founder of Docstoc has certainly persuaded me of one thing, there’s a lot more to business than sitting in front of a computer.

I urge you to read the original article, ’20 Things20-Year-Olds Don’t Get’ on Forbes.

The French Can’t Drive

After four years of driving in the UK, I decided that it was time my little car got to take a holiday and come with me to the wine region of Bordeaux in the south of France for 6 months. I had been warned about French drivers by my Father (coincidentally an advanced driving instructor) who taught me how to drive. Under his strict ruling, I had to complete at least 50 hours of lessons before sitting my test and failing was not even an option. However, despite all the warnings, I could never have been prepared for driving in France. Quite simply, the French don’t know how to drive.

Right-hand Drive. My brother, who drives through Europe on a weekly basis these days, had kindly informed me of toll roads requiring payment (on the left hand side) so I invested in an automatic Télépéage before I even reached the border, but I hadn’t quite realised the same would go for car parks. I have since discovered two methods of reaching a machine on the wrong side of the car; “the jump-out-and-run-around” as well as the “extreme-lean”. Neither is particularly comfortable. I believe it is Napoleon I have to blame for this, you should have stayed on the left!

French Kissing. It would appear that the French adopt their attitude to kissing to their cars as well. When a Frenchman is driving, he indubitably feels the need to roll along bumper to bumper without a care in the world. ‘Bumper kissing’, as I now refer to it, is an obligatory stage of parallel parking too. Don’t forget to kiss both the car in front and the car behind when you squeeze into the space! Personally, I actually care if my number plate is bent in half when I return to my car. The French don’t seem to.

Parking: French Style

Speed Limits. This is more of a gripe aimed at the people who decide the speed limits on French roads. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody except me, sticks to them. Perhaps it is a suggestion that the speed limits are too slow, or perhaps it is too easy to get away with it, but it is infuriating when I am driving along at a legal pace and the person behind me wants to go faster, and he shows it by extreme bumper kissing me. 

Traffic Lights. Before now, my experience of driving has been limited to country roads in the UK. You can imagine my surprise, therefore, when I arrived in Bordeaux and I discovered that the amber light was in fact an indication to speed up, not to slow down as I am used to. As a result, I witness cars running red lights on a daily basis, and I gasp each and every time. The worst occasion was a crash that I witnessed between two cars because one ignored the red light. Frenchies- amber means stop. 

Not speed up...

Beeping. I live on a busy street, a street that lots of impatient commuters use to get to work in the morning. If someone wants to parallel park in the road and needs to hold you up for 1 minute while they do so; let them. Some of us are trying to sleep and your constant beeping is only stressing everybody out. They will take longer to park, and I will wake up from my magical dream about how the French have all suddenly become wonderful drivers… 

So I suppose for now, I shall just have to embrace French culture and learn to drive like them. One thing, please don’t tell my Father…

The Things the French Got Wrong

Image: Waldo

My self-prescribed mission was to embrace French culture as far as is possible while in Bordeaux. My assignment thus far has been fairly successful; I buy bread most days from the Boulangerie, I spend 5 minutes kissing all my colleagues every morning and I’ve completely forgotten how to drive smoothly. However, as much as I am enjoying temporarily denying my true nationality, there are some things that I miss about Blighty…

QWERTY Keyboards. I fully accept that other countries should use other keyboards to fit with their languages. Accents are common in French, so therefore putting an é on the keyboard makes sense. However, banishing a full stop from its place causing it to be impossible to find is frustrating and being rid of a £ sign when constantly needing to write prices in English is infuriating. Needless to say, within a week, Amazon.fr was my new friend and the AZERTY keyboard was exiled to the shelving unit.  

Strikes. I know that we’re not entirely innocent of this at home, but the French take it to the extreme. The news must be checked daily to ensure that public transport is all running smoothly and an extra 20 minutes must always be left just in case. I found it particularly amusing when I was in Paris 2 years ago and there were large strikes over raising the retirement age from 60 to 62. In England, it’s currently 65. I kept my mouth shut…

Sundays. It may be unfair to say that the French get Sundays wrong, perhaps it is fairer to suggest that they simply haven’t updated their Sunday system along with the rest of us yet. If you wake up on a Sunday morning without anything in the fridge, you have two choices; no food or restaurant food. Shops still believe in a full day off in the south west, however, it may be interesting to note that the wineries are all open…

The Internet. The only one of my list that has actually been less of a nuisance and more of an annoyance. Our internet provider was genuinely proud of the fact that they take less than two weeks (10 days specifically) to deliver the box after we purchased the internet. When I, and the Austrian girl I was with, explained that our internet at home is installed immediately, I think they got a little bit offended…

As much as I have now become a regular user of the phrase, ‘this would never happen in England’, I imagine that the moment I step off the plane and step into a long queue back home, I shall utter the words, ‘this would never happen in France…’ 

Happy 1st Blog Birthday

I cannot really believe that my dear little Notebook has made it to one year. From controversial posts about the first year of University being a waste of time, to more amusing thoughts on drunkenness, and even arguments that I feel strongly about such as commenters attacking writers, somehow the posts are still coming.

I have certainly learnt one thing: I am inspired by everything around me. This means that I haven’t really got a focus. However, it doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore  Even though a lot of my posts are about my life in France on Erasmus and the various things that have gone wrong (such as cake-making), I have recently been writing about other things too. I was interested by an original marketing campaign on YouTube by Heineken and even a social networking cartoon a few weeks ago took my fancy- and it was great to see that they took yours too as they were popular posts. Perhaps a variation isn’t such a bad thing, it is how BuzzFeed works after all.

The one thing I am sure about, is that I still love it. Writing is a lot of fun, choosing what to write about is an interesting challenge and working out how personal to make my posts is an exciting dilemma (maybe I went too far here…and here…).

I never knew that I would make it to birthday number 1, but I’m glad I did. I’m 60 posts down and I’ve still got lots to say. If you keep reading, I will definitely keep writing. Actually, I’ll probably keep writing anyway. 

Living With Strangers

So as part of my attempts to slip seamlessly into the French way of life on my year abroad, I opted to live with French (or at least ‘non-English’) people as part of a, ‘colocation’. I have now lived with 3 different French people, an Austrian girl and a Slovakian fondly known as the, ‘Slovak’ and I have learnt quite a lot about living with people you don’t know much about…

It’s what English people do. The wonderfully useful thing about living with people from different cultures is that you can be as strange as you want to be, and simply blame it on your culture. Want to eat supper at 5pm? ‘It’s normal at home’. Want to take a shower for half an hour? ‘What, you don’t do that in your country?!’

Unfortunate awkwardness. I had the amusing, yet rather frightening situation of a flatmate wanting to be more than just friends. Discovering that I could lock my bedroom door was certainly a delightful relief but I was a little nervous about the atmosphere in the flat afterwards. Luckily, it all turned out fine as he soon met a Brazilian girl who was far more exotic and the off-putting glances stopped.

Flatshare fridge- good idea or bad idea?

Meal times. As a group of four who didn’t know each other very well, we tended to be fairly antisocial when it came to food. Although there is nothing wrong with an episode of badly streamed Masterchef providing the only entertainment of the meal, the problem lies in the cooking. Lack of communication often finds four people wanting to use the oven at the same time. And we only have 2 baking trays.

Communication barriers. A group of people who all speak different languages is a wonderful experience as a mixture of Frenglish and Franglais can provide for many amusing moments. My mentioning that decoration in the loo would be nice subsequently led to Slovak investing in an enormous One Direction poster. Also, many a laugh can be had upon hearing a Frenchman utter the word, 'beach'. 

The French Don't Like Cupcakes

Image: Zazzle

I am not a very good cook, nor am I a baker. However, the one thing I know I can do is whip out a pretty good batch of cupcakes which have usually all disappeared by the next morning. It goes without saying, therefore, that 6 weeks into my time in Bordeaux, I felt it was about time to treat my flatmates to a sweet surprise. The plan was made, I would go to the supermarket after work and make them that evening. Of course it was a nightmare, here is why…

The Supermarket. It wasn’t until I headed to the 3^rd supermarket that I found everything that I needed. When I say supermarket, think the hectic atmosphere of Oxford Street’s Primark mixed with the overwhelming size of most IKEAs. It is practically a department store, and they still didn’t have everything that I wanted.

The Flour. Perhaps I should have looked up the word for, ‘self-raising flour’ before I headed off on my adventure, but I figured it would be simple right? Wrong. Self-raising flour doesn’t exist in France, the closest thing I could find was titled, ‘Farine pour gateaux’ (Flour for cakes). Hmmm…

The Cases. After two rounds of the supermarket, by which time the guy behind the cheese counter was starting to recognise me, I decided it was time to ask someone where to find cupcake cases. I was led to another floor (yes- multi-story supermarket) where I found them hidden amongst kitchen utensils and bed sheets.

The Baking Tray. You know what I mean, with all the holes for the cakes? The French don’t know what I mean. That doesn’t exist in France.

The Oven. Okay, so I won’t blame the French for this one. In my flat I have a very old oven and unfortunately I didn’t realise that it lied about the temperature and so a lot of guess work was involved.

The Result? Squidgy, misshapen squarecakes with burnt bottoms.

But they actually tasted quite nice!

Are We Obsessed With Social Networking?

A month of working for a communications agency, a brother whose job is a YouTube channel and a flatmate who makes a fortune by blogging about One Direction has all led me to believe that perhaps social networks have taken over our lives. I do love a good Facebook stalk/Twitter troll/Instagram snap as much as the rest, but maybe we should take a day off every now and then. Don’t you occasionally miss the good old days*? 

This wonderful cartoon sums up exactly what I mean:

Image: Wrong Hands: http://wronghands1.wordpress.com/

(*Good old days= 2 years ago)

The Challenges Of Moving Abroad

My recent big move has been a fairly smooth ride as far as these things go, but it hasn’t always been completely bump free. A voyage across the seas for an extended period of time can be an incredibly worthwhile thing to do; independence, initiative and interest can all be acquired while you’re away. However, it isn’t always plain sailing (perhaps you learn how to make travel related puns as well), here are a few reasons why...

Image: cartoonaday

New People. Meeting people is often one of the hardest parts of moving away. Meeting fun, nice and normal people is often even harder. However, don’t forget that while you’re abroad, you have the perfect opportunity to meet a huge variety of people. Why not approach a randomer on the street and ask them to show you around? If they think you’re weird, just tell them it’s what all English people do.  

New Habits. Getting used to a new routine can be a very confusing thing, but it’s very important to embrace the culture of the place where you are living. Waiting until 9pm to eat dinner, as the French do, was practically impossible to get used to, but now I prefer it. Clubs not even opening until 2am was even stranger but I finally felt like I fit into French culture when I discovered that I can start work as late as 9.30am.

New Living Arrangements. Moving into a flat with strangers and a kettle-less kitchen can be a daunting thing. Discovering how to make the washing machine work provided a particularly deceptive challenge (the washing powder and the freshener look identical!), but making mistakes and learning how to not burn yourself when lighting the oven is all part of the ‘broadening your horizons’ experience.  

Had to invest!

New Language. Without a doubt the most nerve-wracking, nail-biting pre-year abroad jitters for me came from my fear of not being able to understand those around me. Of course it was a struggle at first, and I still occasionally nod my head when someone looks at me expectantly without a clue what I’m agreeing to, but over time it occurs less and less and you begin to understand more and more. 

Using Vine To Fill My Time

As you may know, I am currently in Bordeaux working in a communications firm that specialises in quality food brands. Although only an intern, I actually get to do some interesting work, especially with the English press and the brand, ‘Instant Naturel’. 

However, when there is a little time to spare...we like to make videos!

(with minions...)

Instant Naturel's Cake Decorations:

Instant Naturel's Flavoured and Coloured Sugars:




Instant Naturel's Vinegars With Fruit Pulp:

The Things the French Got Right

I am now just over 1 month into my time in Bordeaux, and I’m starting to shed my patriotism and accept that there are some things that the French do rather well. Although I will always argue that they don’t understand tea, there are some things that perhaps they do better than us...

Bank Holidays. This week there was a bank holiday that fell on a Thursday. The French have come up with a genius thing called, ’le pont’ (‘the bridge’) which essentially means that Friday becomes a day off as well so that the whole country gets a 4 day weekend to spend by the beach.

McDonalds. You know how when you walk into a McDonalds in England, you sometimes feel a bit gross just for being there? The French fast food establishments are actually quite swanky; rather than going to the counter to be served, they have machines near the entrance where you enter what you would like and then wait for your number to be called. Genius.

Cheese. My local supermarket has two entire aisles dedicated to cheese, need I say more?

Drinks’ Prices. We all know that wine is cheaper in France than in England, and that is particularly true when in Bordeaux. However, it did come as a rather hilarious surprise to discover that it is actually cheaper to buy a glass of wine in a restaurant than a Coke. Supermarkets trick you into boozing too; a decent bottle of wine in the South West will set you back just 2 Euros.  

Heineken: Would You Play Departure Roulette?

If you were given the opportunity to drop your travel plans at the push of a button and head to a new and unknown destination, would you take it?

Heineken has launched a new instalment to its ‘Voyage’ campaign to test people’s sense of adventure. After setting up a departure board at New York’s JFK airport, the beer company persuaded the passing travellers to take a step into the unknown…

By pushing the green button, they would have to cancel their flight and forgo their original plans, whether it be going home or away, and head to the destination nominated by the machine, all expenses paid for by Heineken.

It is no wonder that the video has become viral on YouTube, with over 2.5 million views having only been launched less than a month ago. Heineken’s social experiment is able to capture the hearts and minds of travellers and adventurers alike, and the cleverly made video builds a sense of anticipation as those who turn down the opportunity are revealed first before the brave few step up to the podium. 

Heineken’s brand director, Belen Pamukoff believes a legendary trip requires spontaneity, “It should welcome random experiences where improvisation is the only way forward. This summer, in a variety of exciting ways, we are plucking guys from their everyday lives and dropping them into a world unlike anything they've ever seen”.

Would you push that button?

Is Technology Ruining the English Language?

Image: cozylittlebookjournal

With the emergence of mobile phones and, in particular, the rise in obsessive use of them by young people, came the concern by some that mobile phones and text language have caused a demise of the English language. It is fair to say that ‘text speak’ has crept into spoken English and perhaps affected a few teenagers, but perhaps it is more the change in rapidity of our communication that could be the cause of the problem.

Having to admit that I occasionally read the Daily Mail to make my next point is a shame, but The Mail Online is a classic case of quantity over quality. The speed in which they produce their articles, in order to keep up with social media, leads to an offensive amount of typing errors and language mistakes. I am sure that the middle-aged journalist is perfectly capable of grammatically correct English, but perhaps the young and impressionable reader may not be.

Evolution of language is important, the words we use have to fit with the way we live our lives. The rapidity of communication, and the increase in unnecessary communication, render eloquent phrasing unnecessary. There’s no need for a grammatically correct way of messaging, ‘train delayed –will be 10 mins late’ because its purpose is the information it provides, not the way in which it is provided. It is a fascinating novelty of our generation that we even feel the necessity of sending such a message, and we regularly do, presumably our grandparents would have just waited patiently for our parents at the station, working out for themselves that the train was delayed.  

It can be said that the word, ‘ruining’ may be a little presumptuous, ‘evolving’ may be more appropriate. The invention of the internet has lead to a whole new terminology such as, ‘blog’, ‘viral or, ‘social media’ which are all recently acquired vocabulary. Why do we feel differently about ‘lol’ and ‘l8r’? It is said that Shakespeare’s audiences were new to one in ten of his words, if he was allowed to creatively alter the English language, aren’t the teenagers of today?

Yet the fact remains that the internet has provided the small guy with a voice. If a hashtag is created on Twitter, there’s nothing the nostalgic English speakers can do about it. Although, the Italians feel much stronger on the topic, they can arrest shop owners with misspelt signs for ‘public abuse of the language’. We, on the other hand, have a good old moan. Well, I do anyway. 

Ordering Tea in France

As much as I love learning about new cultures and languages, and I really do, I’ve started to notice that there are some Englishisms that I can’t quite drop. I’ll happily adopt the daily visits to the Boulangerie for a baguette, I’ll even speed up when the traffic lights go orange rather than slow down, but when it comes to tea, I remain a patriot. However, sticking to my tea-drinking habits is not as easy in France as you might expect. Here are a few reasons why…

They hate milk. French people hate milk. It might be a teeny generalisation, but UHT milk is pretty much all you can get in their supermarkets. Something doesn’t seem right for me when the milk is kept in the larder and not in the fridge and it doesn’t go off for months… it’s unnerving.

They give me funny looks when I ask for milk. Many a waitress or colleague have raised their eyebrows upon my request for milk with my tea. ‘I’ve never heard of that before’ responded one waitress earlier this week, ‘I’ll ask the chef’. Even if they do finally understand the concept of milky tea, it is often brought to the table hot and foamy. That’s for coffee, duh.

They like funny flavours. The most common appears to be Darjeeling, but Earl Grey is a popular choice as well. If I’m going to forgo French culture, I’m going to do it right. English Breakfast only please.

They prefer coffee anyway. I think my strive for a tea taste of home is fairly fruitless, with various occasions of being brought a tea bag with a cup of milk (no water), hot milk on its own (with no tea)and often a cup so full there is no space for milk in it, perhaps it is time to age a few years and start drinking Espresso. I’m all for embracing the culture, but I might just keep a stash of Tetley’s in the back of the cupboard for the next time something exciting happens in the royal family and I feel nostalgic for home.