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.

A Moment from a Movie

This weekend I had a plan. I was to travel back to England for a total of 23 hours in order to celebrate the 21^st birthday of one of my closest friends. Planned far in advance, rather keenly so, I had booked my trains to take me from Bordeaux to Paris and then the Eurostar from Paris to London, acquired so far in advance that the sizeable cost was almost forgotten. She had asked me to do her speech after all.

Of course there was a thunder storm the night before. Of course all the trains to Paris were cancelled due to floods. Of course I didn’t let this stop me.

After deciding that the airport was the way to go (both metaphorically and literally), I jumped in a taxi and exaggeratedly shouted, ‘take me to the airport!’ Dramatic, I hear you say. Well, the fun didn’t stop there. Upon arriving at the airport, I had my movie moment. The moment that allows you to have a story that you know you will always remember and over-tell for a long time to come. That story that your friends will get pretty fed up of hearing but you’ll keep telling them anyway.

Me: ‘Your first flight to London!’

Easyjet Lady: ‘It’s in 40 minutes’

Me: ‘I’ll take it!’

…

Me: ‘Wait, how much?’

An experience and a half, I was whisked through the airport, ushered through security and was sat with my seatbelt on within half an hour. Now that is efficient airporting.

Perhaps it is not the best advice to say arriving at an airport to buy your ticket 40 minutes before a flight is incredibly successful, but stress-related feelings aside, it was rather effective- I didn’t have to wait around for even a minute. Needless to say my friend’s party was incredible and I can only thank her for both the amazing evening, but also for providing me with my very own scene that could have been taken straight from a script.  

French V British: What Makes Us Different?

Image: Crossed-flag-pins.com

I have only been in sunny Bordeaux for a week, but I have already noticed a lot of culture differences between us awkward Brits and our froggy neighbours. They may be stereotyped, but they’re very true.

Their Driving. I decided to make a little road trip out of my year abroad and so brought my car to Bordeaux with me. I expected dilemmas to arise when entering car parks and not being able to reach the ticket machine on the other side, but I hasn’t quite realised that the French aren’t particularly bothered by the welfare of their vehicle. I have yet to see a car without a dent or scratch and am counting the days until I find mine with a wing mirror knocked off.

Their Size. They may eat lots of bread, but I have yet to come across anyone larger than the likes of Dr Jenson recommend. I’ve seen lots of fast food restaurants, but fast food junkies seem to be few and far between.

Their hate of supermarkets. I haven’t quite worked out why, but the French seem to hate the idea of buying everything in one place. They have separate shops for food products (Boulangerie for bread, boucherie for meat, epicerie for all the condiments) and I really cannot understand the lack of the all-encompassing Boots. Make-up, shampoo and plug adapters all in one place? Yes please.

And the one thing we do have in common? We secretly love each other! We can’t get enough of French restaurants in England and I seem to be seeing the British flag everywhere in Bordeaux. Not only that, but within a 10 minute walk of my apartment can be found, ‘Sherlock Holmes’, ‘Charles Dickins’ and even a ‘Cock and Bull’ (Yes, real pubs! Apparently one of them even serves Pimms…). 

Image: Hammeroftruth.com

The Things I Will Miss About Bristol

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As I embark upon my year abroad, in which I will spend a year in the sun meeting amazing people and having new experiences (all counts towards my degree apparently), I will occasionally think back to Bristol and my old home. I will only be away for a year, but here are a few things that I might miss…

Park Street. One of my constant confusions when plodding down Park Street into town was that every time I looked up, I found something new. After two years at Bristol, you would expect that I might have a pretty secure knowledge of my surroundings, but the mystery that is Park Street never fails to surprise. From random little restaurants, to foreign bars and even some dodgy looking clubs, each time I take the street, I notice something I’ve never seen before.

Lounge. I can’t explain it, I know it’s embarrassing, but I just know that I will miss this living room-sized sweat pit and their green jug.

Running into everyone, everywhere. Although Bristol is a city, for the students, it’s a small one. I shall miss those awkward moments when you don’t know if you should smile or say hi and in the midst of confusion, you inevitably end up keeping your eyes on the pavement and walking by.

Free Stuff. Whether it’s the Christians and their BBQs or the obsessive amount of pens I pick up at each Freshers’ Fair, I am certainly going to miss the freebies. Let’s hope I can still get my student discount in France!

Making jokes about the ASS. The best one this year? When it snowed: this is not the first time 7 inches has stopped me reaching the ASS. I have a feeling that the French just won’t understand…

Image: Spotted in the Ass Library - Bristol/Facebook