Bullet For My Valentine?

Before you ask, no I don't like Valentine's Day. It's a major waste of time, effort, money and energy and only really succeeds in either making you feel worthless, or that the rest of the world has gone mad. Come February, I'd much rather skip straight from the 13th to the 15th without all the pink confetti, chubby cupids and sickly sweet love songs. I know this is blatantly the cry of the bitter, but seriously, the less said about bloomin' Valentine's Day, the better.

However, having been commissioned to write a piece on 'Valentine's Day Adventures For Couples', (the assignment actually read 'fun, interesting, off-beat suggestions - romantic yet adventurous'. 'Scuse me while I vom) I have had to just suck it up and go all gloopy in the name of Saint Valentine.

So here it is, keep an eye on the WideWorld website (www.wideworldmag.com) in the next week or two for the real deal!

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VALENTINE'S DAY ADVENTURE BREAKS


It is a well known fact that Valentine’s Day is a holiday guaranteed to polarize; adored by some, abhorred by others. Perceived by many as little more than yet another commercial card-company scam designed to raise our blood pressure, empty our pockets, and deepen our self-loathing, it is with much trepidation that both singles and couples approach the 14^th February.

There is little doubt that, as a subscriber to this magazine, when it comes to the day of the legendary Italian, the heart of any WideWorld reader is far more likely to be donning a helmet, harness, and walking boots and heading out for some sort of adventure rather than fussing about restaurant bookings and bouquets of flowers.

So if awaiting the encroaching date with about as much enthusiasm as a mountain biker on a motorway here are a couple of slightly more adventurous ideas to get you started. With any luck, these will beat the cheesy stereotypes and give you far more than awkward restaurant conversation, overpriced and already wilting roses, and a dubiously authentic Spanish violinist called Pedro bent on standing just behind your shoulder playing the Romeo and Juliet Love Theme on repeat:

1.      Mush Better - Scandinavian Husky Adventures

How about getting right back to basics, and sampling life in some of the most sparsely populated regions of Scandinavia? Not only will you and your loved one find yourselves plunged into wilderness far from the rat-race, these holidays will also equip you with some essential skills necessary to survive in such remote terrain.

In Sami capital Karasjok, nestled in the heart of the Norwegian Lapland, any dog lover will be enraptured as couples are treated to some of the best dog sledding safaris in the world. Crossing fjords, spending nights in isolated log cabins on barren ice plateaus, and riding alongside the Arctic Ocean, this is. Despite being pulled by a fairytale husky sleigh, this is by no means for the faint-hearted as the holiday will take you right into the remotest parts of the windswept wintery desert.

Experiencing individually designed and self-contained log cabins, remote wilderness cabins and the famous Sorrisniva Igloo Hotel, which is exactly what it says on the tin. Although viewing the famous Aurora Borealis isn’t guaranteed, you are certainly in for a stargazing treat as ink black skies present the perfect canvas for an impressive astrological display. 

Other activities include snow shoeing, kick sledding, snowmobile rides, reindeer safaris, and real Scandinavian saunas.

For more information on this and other wintry adventures in Scandinavia, see http://www.activitiesabroad.com/page/hands-on-adventures

2.      Get Your Running Shoes On

Having trouble shifting that spare tyre after the festive season? Why not break a sweat and inject a little competitive spirit into your Valentine’s Day by running a race with your other half? As luck would have it, charity races, half-marathons and fun-runs abound all in the name of our beloved St Valentine. It is a well known fact that exercise releases all those endorphins that’ll leave you loved up and wanting more. Why not have a bash as, after all, there is nothing less sexy than witnessing your better half kitted out in short-shorts and a vest, gasping for breath as sweat runs down their beetroot face.

Here are the top picks of that’ll are sure to get you out of bed and in the mood for some strenuous exercise. Cupid’s Chase, the national 5K run, takes place on the same day and at the same time in 24 cities throughout the United States. Raising money for Community Options Inc., a not-for-profit organisation that develops community-based homes and employment support for people with disabilities, you and valentine can burn some of that latent energy in collecting money, training and running, all in the name of a good cause.

For something a little shorter, yet somewhat more ‘exposed’, try Cupid’s Undie Run in Washington DC. Competitors run around the US Capitol in nothing more than their underwear in order to raise money for The Children’s Tumour Foundation. See if you and your partner have got what it takes to strip off and quite literally jog on.

For more information on the above and others charity races see

 http://www.comop.org/cupidschase/,

http://www.cupidsundierun.com/,

http://search.active.com/search?f=activities&l=everywhere&m=meta:endDate:daterange:today..&k=valentine's+day&v=list

3.      Samba Sensation – Carnaval Brazil Festival

If you are a couple who just love to boogie, then the Carnaval Brazil Festival is right up your street. Although sometimes falling a little later than Valentine’s Day (depending on dates of Easter), the Carnaval is a last-gasp celebration before Brazil locks down for the duration of lent. With a hell of a lot of celebrating, eating, drinking, and dancing to do, this is a perfect opportunity to let your hair down, enjoy the music, and shake that thang.

Rio, Salvador de Bahia and Olinda are renowned for the best Carnaval atmosphere, with streets full of dancers, music, costumes, and road-side munch. The Rio Carnaval is a flamboyant four-day affair, with the whole city taking partIf worried about your dancing skills next to the Brazilian best, head to one of the hundreds of Samba Schools in each city before the Carnaval itself. That way, you and your partner can don you dancing shoes and really enjoy the meticulously prepared yet fantastically vibrant culminating Samba Parade.

For more information, visit http://www.rio-carnival.net/

4.      Light Up Your Life – the PingXi Lantern Festival

For something a little bit different, yet no less adventurous nor less romantic, head to the mountain village of Shrfen in Taiwan to see in the Chinese New Year.  Normally a sleepy little town, come the turning of the New Year, thousands of people flock to PingXi to celebrate the celebrated lantern festival.

A legendary tradition, Chinese lanterns first came into being during the Ching Dynasty when Taiwanese locals, fleeing from bands of outlaws, sought refuge in the nearby mountains. The village watchmen would use the lanterns to inform the residents that it was safe for them to return to their homes. Today, the lanterns are used to send hopes and prayers to the gods, and festival goers write their wishes on giant paper lanterns before releasing them into the sky when the sun goes down.

What more could you want than to stand hand in hand with your loved one watching thousands of flickering paper lanterns glide gracefully into the night sky?

For more information, on the PingXi Lantern Festival, see www.lonelyplanet.com

5.      Fly Away With Me – Hot Air Balloon Safaris in Africa

Despite tending a little more towards the soppy side of Valentine’s Day, treating your loved one to a Hot Air Balloon Safari is still a far cry from a box of milk tray and breakfast in bed. Share the experience of a life time and take to the skies in a Hot Air Balloon Safari for a truly unique and inspiring way to view the world.

The early rising may not sound very appealing, but soaring above the Serengeti as it wakes is an experience like no other. Surrounded by complete silence, punctuated by the occasional blast of the balloons powerful burners as well as faint calls from wild animals and birds below, you will feel as though you are literally on top of the world. The experienced balloon pilots can precisely control the altitude of the balloon, gracefully moving from treetop height to 1000feet or more, offering incomparable panoramic views.

With a champagne toast after landing taken as standard, followed by an ‘Out of Africa’ breakfast, this is adventure, luxury, and romance all bundled into one.

Hot Air Balloon Safaris can be found in Kenya, Tanzania, and South Africa. For more information, see http://www.balloonsafaris.com/

6.      Beating the Chill – Caving, Canyoning and Ice Fishing in Canada

Renowned for its extreme winters, Canada presents the perfect opportunity for all Snow Queens and Jack Frosts to indulge in some icy adventures. With sub-zero temperatures freezing the canyons, caves and crevasses in the regions of Banff, Lake Louise, and Jasper in Alberta, travellers are able to access areas that wholly inaccessible in the warmer months. Hand and hand with your other half, you can climb the glacéd canyon walls and walk across giant sheets of ice that joining one magnificent rock formation to another.

Whilst in Canada’s winter wonderland, try your hand at ice fishing. When else do you get the chance to step onto a frozen lake, drill a hole in the iced water, insert a fishing line and (potentially) hook yourself a prize catch? Head just north of Toronto onto Lake Simcoe and sit aside seasoned professionals in the icy wilderness as you marvel at the breathtaking scenery, remote isolation, and unrivalled peace and quiet. A few moments of calm will allow you to catch up on all those lost moments with your other half, and if that doesn’t do it for you, you can always push them into the icy waters when no one is looking! Other top fishing spots include lakes in Alberta, Manitoba, Ontario, British Colombia and Quebec.

For more information on Canadian adventures, see www.lonelyplanet.com

7.      Heli-Skiing in the Caucaus

It can be little clichéd to take your loved one on the so-called ‘adventure of a lifetime’  and merely pop them on an  EasyJet flight to an extortionately expensive yet painfully mediocre Alpine ‘paradise’ for a couple of bang average ski-runs, a few runny cheese fondues and a hell of a lot of grumpy Italian tourists. Why not try something a little different, a little more glamorous, and far more adventurous by sampling the world of Heliskiing? With endless descents, pristine pistes, unspoiled snowscapes, and a healthy dose of adrenaline, this makes for the Valentine’s Day of a lifetime.

Although Chamonix, the Swiss Valleys and Val Veny in Italy are renowned for Heli-skiing, it is also possible to head a little further afield to the Caucasus, where you have the chance to ski in the 1,350km long mountain range separating Russia and Abkhazia at its westernmost extremity. Yak and Yeti Tours take skiers to Russia’s Krasnaya Poliana resort, where non-glacial terrain, sheltered pistes and breathtaking scenery make for an unforgettable skiing experience. The close proximity to the Black Sea makes for an inimitable level of perfect powder snow cover, a real skiers paradise.

For more information, go to http://heliski.yak-yeti.com/index.php

8.      Leap of Love – Bungee Jumping

Share the ultimate adrenaline rush with your other half and try a double bungee jump. Couples are strapped together, and take the plunge as a duo, wrapped in an embrace they’ll never forget. Head to the stunning Haute Savoie for the ‘Love Jump’ at St Jean de Sixt, where you really will feel your heart in your mouth. Or pop across the channel for true test of faith with a bungee jump in Berkshire, UK. Leaping lovers can treat themselves to a Valentine’s Day deal which includes a post-jump bottle of champagne as a reward for your bravery (or insanity)!

For the really wild, check out the Valentine’s Day festivities in Nanaimo, Canada. As the centrepiece of the annual ‘Naked Weekend’ celebrations, couples are invited to bare all and leap over 140 feet together above the ice-cold water below. This is certainly not for the fearful, nor for the easily embarrassed! Although it will no doubt inject some serious excitement into your relationship on Valentine’s Day.

9.      Get on Your Bike - Cycling in Vietnam

If you really what to get to know a country, the best way is to do as the locals do! Famed for its two-wheelers, the best way to discover the stunning scenery, bustling villages and awe-inspiring monuments of Vietnam is by bike.

Perfect for ‘athletic beginners’, you and your partner will be kitted out with Trek 4500 bikes and, with a daily average distance of about 24 miles, will make your way from Hanoi through the rolling Vietnamese countryside to former Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh).  Not only will you experience the bustling city life in Vietnam, you will also be able to relish the beauty of the pearl white beaches, mountain hill towns and the many mythical temples en route.  

The trip includes traditional water puppet performances, visits to the famous Cu Chi tunnels where Vietcong guerrillas sought sanctuary, and a boat trip and snorkel to the Coral Islands. There is also an opportunity to stick around for an extra four-day tour of Angkor Wat, Cambodia.

For more information, see http://www.trustedadventures.com/

10.  Dublin for my Valentine

How about celebrating Saint Valentine himself and heading to Dublin, where the relics of the patron saint of love are kept. Received by Whitefriar Street Church, Dublin, from Pope Gregory XVI in 1836, the church has long been a pilgrimage for all lovers wishing to celebrate their affection. A special venerating service is held on Valentine’s Day itself and the church holds a special ‘blessing of rings’ ceremony for couples wishing to marry.

There’s plenty more to see and do in and around the city itself, although if on the hunt for an adrenaline rush with your other half, spend a day at the Golden Moments’ Rock Climbing and Abseiling Experience. Get out into the Irish countryside and feel the physical and mental thrill of climbing some of Ireland’s most scenic spots. Put your trust in your loved one as together you climb sheer rock faces before being treated to spectacular panoramic views. With trained instructors, this experience is perfect for complete beginners right through to old-time climbers.

For more information, see www.goldenmoments.ie

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Also, as a rather sad postlude, Celyn's family dog, Nero, passed away completely out of the blue last week. A four year old German Shepherd, Nero was a major part of the Thomas family and will be very sadly missed. As neither a major pet nor dog fan, I can genuinely vouch for what a great dog Nero was and am brutally aware of how much his absence will be felt.

Touloulouse

Although I am currently waiting for a shed-load of photographs from the last few weeks as my camera, in a truly French manner, is en grève, following much haranguing from the other side of the channel (you know who you are) it seemed that updates on the past fortnight or so were desired, with or without accompanying images. So here goes for the first of a few instalments which will (I promise) be supplemented with some sort of visual media in due course.

Being both extremely spoiled and extremely lucky, I have just been treated to a séjour of a whole six days from the lovely Celyn, which encompassed both my birthday (on the 19^th) and the Newport Dragons-Toulouse rugby match which just-so-happened to fall on the Saturday before (was this perhaps the real reason for the visit...?)

Albeit brief, the time spent in Toulouse made a huge impression on both of us. On arrival we immediately flung ourselves into an impromptu sightseeing tour of the Rose City, in spite of the fact that Celyn hadn’t actually been to bed the night before (due to an irresponsibly early Easy Jet flight to Toulouse). When I say ‘flung ourselves’, what I really mean to say is, ‘we immediately got completely lost and ended up driving around inner-city Toulouse for about an hour before we could make head or tail of where we were meant to be heading’.  In fact, our ‘extended detour’ was a perfect way to see some of the city, winding one-way back streets packed with boutiques, bars and boulangeries, the wide roads alongside and across the Tarn, the beautiful gardens and bandstand inside the Grand Rond roundabout.

Having admitted defeat, and received extremely comprehensive directions from a Toulousian pharmacist, we arrived at our hotel – a small but perfectly formed hostel spitting distance from the station. Although not the nicest area, (we were more than once mistaken for kerb-crawlers), it was perfectly situated in spitting distance from the station, city centre shops, cafes, restaurants and bars, and Place Jeanne d’Arc, from which it was possible to get buses to almost anywhere.

After a quick turnaround, it was onto the bus and back out towards the airport, to the Stade Ernest Wallon. Not gonna lie, definitely had such a scene trying to work out which stadium the match was scheduled for, as Tou-‘Rugby-is-my-life’-louse have two. Luckily, we made it, to the right one, in perfect time – flashing our tickets at the gate we ran round to the north stand just as the teams stepped onto the pitch. The atmosphere was electric, as with any big sporting event, and what made it all the more enjoyable was the presence of an extremely healthy (and vocal) Welsh contingent. Proudly sporting both home and away Newport strips, we soon made friends, although a young Toulousian behind us didn’t seem quite as enamoured with the wealth of massive Afros (even though Faletau wasn’t playing!), ‘Draaa-gons’ chants, and (don’t ask why) Scooby Doo imitation calls.  

Although I am most certainly no rugby commentator – and am faar from understanding the unbelievably complex rules, it was a great match. Not going to lie, I was faintly concerned that the Dragons were going to get a bit of a beating, notably due to the constant abuse that I have had to put up with in the staff room at school as each teacher goes into great detail about the mythical prowess of the Toulousian side. Yet, with a defensive display to be proud of, the Dragons put up a strong fight, and it was only due to a lucky break (Poitrenaud) in the second half that Toulouse managed to secure their win. Jason Tovey (fly-half) scored the only points for the Dragons with a penalty just before half-time, but on the whole, the backs and wings really gave the home side something to worry about. The final score was 17-3 – not amazing but really nothing to be ashamed of.

As the previous 80 minutes had positively flown by, Cel and I decided to stick around the stadium for a final pint, to enjoy the warm sun, avoid the crowded buses back into town, and soak up the atmosphere. Within about 3 minutes, we had met some fellow Dragons supporters; Airbus employees hailing from Newport, Pontypridd, Australia and Toulouse itself. It was really such a fantastic treat to have a cold Heineken in hand in the late afternoon sun and just indulge in a wee chat (in English... lush!)

When the bar began to be somewhat indiscreetly be dismantled around us, we bade farewell to our new found friends and hopped on a less crowded bus back into the centre where, absolutely desperate to use the bathrooms, we ended up once again aside some Dragons fans in another rugby bar watching the Ulster Biarritz match – another Heineken contender.

After that, the evening just sort of... unfolded. Whirlwinding around the city, the night passed in a blur of Leffe, touristy trinket shops, Stade Toulousian merchandise, wine bars, Tintin, pedestrianised streets, a one-stop metro adventure and a handful of new amis. Toulouse is like Bordeaux’s less-pretentious younger brother. Full of students, young professionals, smart arty types, and hippies, each street is packed with bars, restaurants and cafes. At every turn, up-market high-street shops rub shoulders with run-down bar-tabacs and international food markets, and the city is saturated with pristinely preserved old buildings, with many comprised of the famous ‘rose’ bricks.  

Thoroughly enamoured with all that Toulouse had to offer, I didn’t really think the night could get much better. Yet, following some good advice, we decided to pop our heads into the De Danu Irish bar, owned by former Ireland player Trevor Brennan, which ‘just so happened’ to be on the way home. As a rule, I’m not a major fan of Irish bars – I never really understand who is supposed to go there; Irish people abroad, Foreign people who want to be Irish, Irish ex-pats, drunks...? Anyway, we went. And so did the Dragons. And l’équipe Toulousian. ‘Nuff said. Most fantastic night ever.

It was definitely all downhill from there – never ever try to keep up with professional rugby players. Yet having spent and evening feeding French chat up lines to Nathan Brew, gawping at the sheer size of Luke Charteris, and promising Jason Tovey that I’d move to Wales, I can safely say that from this moment on, I am 100% a Dragons supporter.

                                                                                                   

Obviously, with such a great night, it wasn’t such a great morning, but despite being on a pretty tight schedule, we managed to fit in a bit of sightseeing before heading back to Sarlat for yet another rugby match. First stop was the Basilique Saint Sernin, an awe-inspiring Romanesque church just off the Place Jeanne d’Arc. A lively eastern market surrounded the church, a perfect opportunity to indulge in a spicy steak-haché and chip baguette! We then managed to get lost a few times whilst searching for the Church of the Jacobins, burial place of St Thomas of Aquin. Having found it, and spending a significant amount of time gawping at the unbelievably high ceiling, we made our way back to the Place de la Capitole – the main square with the Hotel de Ville, Theatre du Capitole and Donjon du Capitole. Luckily for us, there was some sort of hippy demonstration in the square, and while we were wondering a) what the hell they were demonstrating about and b) dithering whether we should just chuck in our lives as we know them and join a hippy commune, an amiable yet slightly unwashed member of the protest came over and asked if we wanted to know more. Turns out that this guy was actually from the USA, and was doing the same assistantship as I, but in the past two days had decided to pack it all in and join the ‘Rainbow Children’ in their quest to overturn the LOPPSI 2 Law i.e. the Loi d’Orientation et de Programmation pour la Sécurité Intérieure which makes habitation in any sort of temporary housing (tents, caravans etc) on public or private land in France illegal. Yeah, we agree. It’s not fair. But it was really interesting to hear what he had to say, although I’m not sure his plans to live in a squat forever and ever amen more having only spent one night (in the centre of a city) with the demonstrators were wholly viable, but each to their own!

Unfortunately, our trip to Toulouse had to end, but even having spent a mere two days in the city, I, (and I’m sure I can speak for both of us) am completely smitten. What a city! Anyway... back to Sarlat for rugby instalment #2...

Pee Ess. For some reason (copyright), I can't upload any of these photos that I was lucky enough to stumble across on the internet. But have a quick look at this site, there's some great ones of the match. Also, check out NEW10012 - that was our mate, Christian!! Laads! http://clevamedia.photoshelter.com/gallery/Stade-Toulouse-v-Newport/G0000Cok1d1MQaDs

Les Choristes

Having been violently plunged into the depths of a severe depression over the past 48 hours, partly hormone induced yet mainly due to the maladjustment to the sudden lack of company (this will be updated on recent activity in due course,  je te promis) I have just experienced the most fantastic recovery slash am still nursing my aching sides from laughing so hard.

Essentially, Wednesday, as you may or may not know, is choir night. Tonight, the rehearsal was for que les femmes i.e. it was laayydies night as we needed to rehearse sections that the gents, obviously, had in the proverbial sac. So, this evening, it was just enthusiastic-yet-slightly-inept choirmaster Bernard and the girls, with a cumulative female age of about 5 million.

Although there was no need to impress, as most members had been in the Ensemble Vocale de Sarlat for at least 12 years, Bernard seemed to be slightly flustered this evening. So much so, that he managed to accidently press the ‘demo’ button on his casio keyboard, thus interrupting our angelic rendition of ‘Te Deum’ with a manic four-beat ‘electronica’ set. As if this wasn’t funny enough, he just had no idea how to turn it off and was prodding manically at the machine, changing the sound track to samba, rock ‘n’ roll, bossa nova, metal... whilst asking ‘Il est ou le ‘stop’?’ with about as much expertise as a Neanderthal with an ipad.

This was genuinely one of THE funniest moments ever experienced, although I’m not sure everyone found it as gold as I did. And, to provide a diamante cherry placed neatly on the top, he did it again. About 3 minutes later.

Seriously. So funny.

Le fils à Jo

January is a pretty terrible month. For a start, I can’t actually spell it; a trait that I discovered, much to my embarrassment, in front of a class of 9-10 year olds when attempting to write the date on the board. It is universally known that January sees the highest suicide and divorce rate (there’s a wiki-fact if ever I saw one). Depression reigns supreme as it is back to work for most, there is little to look forward to until, well, Easter, and the festive season is all but a distant memory, an aching liver, and stretch marks around the midriff. In addition to all that, the weather can be atrocious, as exemplified in the past week in Sarlat. It’s not as if we have been experiencing any sort of extreme weather conditions, it’s just been, for want of a better word, so damn dreech. As I look out of my window right now, it can’t even be described as raining; it’s just such thick mist/light drizzle that everyone and everything is just permanently saturated. Fun.

Anyways, with an afternoon off and little desire to venture out into the ‘wild’, I was fortunate enough to be able to watch the latest release from Philippe Guillard at Sarlat’s Cinema Rex. The film, called Le Fils à Jo, was a wonderfully French film set in a small town in the Tarn region about a widowed father and son, the struggle against losing their beloved rugby ground and house, and the creation of a local youth rugby team that flies in the face of the opinions and wishes of many in their village. It was an absolutely fantastic film, one which I most definitely recommend. Of course it is bursting with clichés – the awkward father-adolescent son relationship, the arrival of the intriguing beauty who works for the ‘enemy’, the familial battle over father-wants-son-to-follow-in-footsteps-but-son-doesn’t-want-to-and-thinks-he-will-fail, and the cringey inclusion of Jonah, a idiosyncratic New Zealand  rugby player who just ‘pops over’ to help coach the young ‘uns at rugby. Yet, taken with a spoonful of sugar, it is actually a really heart-warming film that honestly portrays life in rural France, can be hilarious yet at times is genuinely touching, perfect for a rainy day. Perhaps I am a little biased, as in all honesty, Le Fils à Jo could easily have been filmed in Sarlat with little change to the story line. The small town lifestyle and attitude, the multitude of minor characters who in fact seemed so familiar (such as the simple yet endearing home-bird Ponpom and his sweetheart Mme Quentin, and the foie-gras vendeuse and recently turned lesbian Marie), and the fierce intensity of youth rugby portrayed in the film is identical to that found in Sarlat. Having been to some of the youth matches as Ludo, a friend with whom I am soon to become a co-locataire, coaches the Sarlat U-18 team, everything from the under-stated pitches to the roaring side-line supporters was perfectly encapsulated in the film. In fact, at one point in the screenplay, whilst at a restaurant, Jo (the father) asks for ‘pommes de terres sarladaises’. Haa!

Anyway, it’s definitely worth a watch and you can find the trailer here if interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlrNLXsf-QU

Also, as a little aside, I thought I would give a brief mention to a soon-to-be-released gem from Dany Boon. Called ‘Rien à Declarer’, it’s a hilarious portrayal of Franco-Belgian relations, told through the story of two customs officers, one French and one Belgian, who work together on their post in the commune of Corquain France and Koorkin Belgique. Although it is not out until the 2/2, I thought that this might be enjoyed by the Belgian Francophiles on the Schofield side of the family! [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipxFN1Ls8bI] 

P.S. Despite having just been to the cinema toute seule, I am wary of being that weirdo who goes to things on their own. You know, of the ‘proms front row' ilk, who arrive in their cycling shorts, hair awry, sit miles away from anyone else, always have a book in their handbag, or rather, karrimore backpack, bring a bottle of water everywhere, and glance at their surroundings with as much ease as a hamster on crack, yet still manage to emit that air of obnoxious self-confidence which safely assures that conversation or, for that matter, interaction with other humans will be kept to a bare minimum. I promise, PROMISE, that’s not me. At least, dear lord, I hope not. 

Habituer [abitчe] vt: s’~ à to get used to.

Having had much difficulty in stringing a sentence together due to a mix of English-French confusion, extreme fatigue (grace à Ryanair) and general ignorance, I suddenly cannot stop thinking about the verb habituer. I originally intended to start this post by saying, “It is astonishing how easily on s’habitue aux environs changeant” – but I keep forgetting that franglais is most definitely not a valid mode of expression; at least, in normal life as opposed to the incoherent garble that flits around my head. I have had some difficulty in finding an equivalent expression in English; not a literal equivalent as such, but more along the lines of something that had the same connotations. Essentially, what I mean to say is that in the past couple of weeks I have had to become accustomed to/m’habitue à such different circumstances and ways of life that I have become increasingly interested in the process of how one actually becomes accustomed to different situations. Despite the seeming ease with which the act of ‘accustoming’ is carried out; such as children going to school or university for the first time and instantly settling in, finding their soul mates and having ‘the.best.time.EVER’; or starting at a new job and having only a few days of ‘newbie shame’ before falling comfortably into a routine, circle of friends, and ‘water-cooler crew’, I am ashamed to say that I have found the immediate effects of the transition kind of difficult.

Basically, leaving quiet village life in rural France just before Christmas and flying straight into a manically busy three-week festive season, has proven to be a little bumpier ride than expected.   For example, on arrival in the UK I found myself constantly around people as I hopped from Manchester to Cardiff to Chepstow to Portskewett to Bristol to Edinburgh...you get the picture. I’m not going to lie, it was absolutely great, and I was ecstatic to be able to see all my friends and my family and also to catch up on so much missed time with Celyn. Yet, at the beginning, I just felt completely exhausted nearly the whole time, and also became paranoid that I ‘had no chat’ as it was so bizarre to actually be speaking to people for more than half the day! On the converse, arriving back in the ‘ghost town’ of post-Christmas Sarlat and suddenly finding myself with empty hours and afternoons to fill, a skeletal timetable, and a lack of friends and family at hand, it was a pretty rough return to say the least. Perhaps I am exaggerating. In fact, I am almost certainly exaggerating. And no doubt reading in to it far too much. In both cases, I was absolutely knackered – especially after the horrendous all-night and all-day journey back to Sarlat, and also again I have to point out that I am a hormonal female who has wasted hours reading trashy romance novels so feels the need to incessantly speak about feelings. But, honestly, I just wanted some sort of explanation for that uncomfortable sensation of not really fitting in... for the first few days at least.

Anyway, now, as per, life is looking up. After two afternoons and a very long night catching up on sleep, I am finally starting to feel like a human being again. Thanks to Celyn and the Welsh boys I have jumped on the bandwagon and joined them in their ‘No-Alcohol-January’ tradition. Or, at least, am trying to. Not really sure why, (and extremely doubtful as to whether it will work) but it’s a good start to try and get a bit healthier after the Caligulan indulgence of the Christmas season. It was back to school on Thursday, starting with my Occitan class, otherwise known as les enfants terrible, who were actually surprisingly studious and well behaved for the first time in known history. They were followed by the CLIS class (Classe d’Inclusion Scolaire – essentially equivalent to UK special needs) which didn’t go quite as smoothly but they are unbelievably sweet and always up for a great laugh. My favourite was Charles who, when asked what his favourite colour was, just kept bursting into the ‘Rainbow’ song sans cesse, much to the amusement of everyone else. When prompted to actually answer the question, he stated, as if blatantly obvious, that he liked all the colours. Duh!

With only half a day’s work followed by a cancelled violin accompaniment lesson (poor Sophie is unwell and Ludovic is proudly sporting a massive bandage on his finger so is unable to play), it has been a fairly gentle retour au travail, unlike mes pauvres parents who spoke of their rather more stressful return to work.  

Strangely enough, Epiphany, which usually goes completely unnoticed at home apart from the dolefully symbolic taking down of the tree, is actually quite a big deal in France. People make these round brioche cakes called Galette du Rois (King’s Cake) with sugar on the top, and apaz they put a little trinket of a king or a crown inside and the person who gets the piece of cake with the figure inside essentially becomes ‘king’ for a day. It’s a bit strange but kind of a nice idea, especially as January is such a depressing month. I only know this because my landlord’s wife gave me a massive slice of theirs to taste. It lasted about five minutes before it was completely devoured... seriously nice. Ironically, that is one of the first times they have actually been really quite pleasant to me, and I only went up to tell them that I was planning on moving out. Whoops.

Anyway, the damage has been done and, yeah, that’s my big news – I’m moving house. Having spent so much time thinking about ‘getting used’ to situations, I’m changing again. More on this to follow but bare bones for now – playground assistant who works with me at Temniac, plays rugby for Sarlat, became friends, nice family, big family, rent rooms, live on farm outside Sarlat, cheap rent, relatives all nearby, will be living with French family, have dinner each night with said family, practice French, learn French, not so lonely.

I cannot wait.

Reading: 

Just finished Stephen Fry’s The Liar. It was one of those books that you cannot put down but then again you don’t want to finish it because then it will be ‘all over’, so about ten pages before the end you start reading really really slowly and re-reading passages to prolong the denouement. Actually, I'm still re-reading the last page because I still don't want it to end...I really am in great need of a life here. Great book though. Standard Stephen Fry – public schools, irritatingly perfect Queen’s English, closet homosexuality, insane intellectual conversation throughout, ridiculous facts, strange, hard to believe and often unnecessary plot twists... definitely recommend it though. Perfect Christmas present, cheers again Cel.