In reference to my previous blog-entry: THE FRENCH RIVERIA – THE LIFE OF GLAMOUR . . .

Since writing my somewhat controversial previous blog I have had time to reflect on the situation and by that I mean think about the words I put on the page! Most definitely I have nothing to take back about everything I said, despite one of my fellow Kiwis living in France calling me a Right Winger (and basically racist)! My answer to him was that I was trying just to report on what I saw, what I heard, and what I had experienced – making it more of a observation than a critique of damnation! However it is impossible to be objective but I tried to be as neutral as I could be, on such a tense issue, writing about the negativity I had witnessed in the region. I explained this by saying, I come in contact with North Africans everyday; all my local stores are run by North Africans for example. Other teaching assistants I know that teach in the so-called ghetto have large amounts of North African kids who are French born. One friend has 90%, who says that it isn’t their English that they need to work on but their French as it isn’t at the same level of ethnically French children – thus already a problem of integration into the society. And it is this point I touched on. He then said that “just because you are North African doesn’t mean you commit crimes”, and there is nowhere where I imply such a thing, as I never said North Africans should be told to leave France, are inferior, or are bad people – this would be racist and not the point I was trying to make – as the North Africans situation in the Cote d’Azur is far more complex and could never be taken down to one denominator.


Nonetheless I’ve become much the wiser on the situation. This is after I did a terrific hike from St Jeannet – a beautifully perched medieval town literally within the mountains, to the quiet and quaint French village, Vence. I hiked with two American girls, both open-minded and as liberal as the other; one had lived in Africa before and wants to work in social entrepreneurialship, and the other is seriously with a Tunisian man she met here. However this Tunisian guy is returning to Tunisia after being in France for over five years. He has had enough with the French and never wants to come back here! He came when he was 18 years old, first living in Paris he did well there (she said), but after moving here, he has had a few too many bad experiences! She also explained all the differences between the cultures, like how the North Africans see the French as cold (and often as being racist). While the North Africans have more of an honour system that is based on respect, and it is not about the individual but the collective community where everybody helps each other, as opposed to France a global capitalist country where the idea of the individual is king, ruling how things are conducted in life. Lastly and certainly not least, is their relation and perspective these men have towards women. Women are truly sacred in their culture, and are predominantly kept in the home – hence why late at night I only see North African men hanging around their hang-out spots! Also dressing provocatively is out of the question, and maybe this stimulation from the ‘white woman’ i.e. English and American assistants who dress more liberally effectively stimulates these men ferociously, as much verbal abuse and voyeuristic stares have been experienced by my female peers. But when you come from a country where you see women dressed modestly as opposed to the explicit (or lack of) dress by different foreign women – things occur. Now I’m not saying their actions are fine, but this is definitely a way of helping explain the actions that I and others have experienced.


Conclusively, there is a huge history the French have with these North African countries. They colonized these countries; killed their people in battles that these countries desperately fought for when seeking independence, (which Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria all achieved at least 50 years before); while with post-independence also meant the influx of migrants (to France) who were often utilized as cheap labour; and now there are other issues that are creating cultural clashes, such as explicitly conveying religion in public – something which is illegal in France. (First generation) North Africans make up more than 5% of French citizens, and therefore they should be reckoned with and not ignored, otherwise future problems will keep occurring without any resolution.

THE FRENCH RIVERIA – THE LIFE OF GLAMOUR . . .

My life in France, well in Cannes to be particular has centred much around Boulevard Republique, a removed unknown road, but still one of the main ones; it is, the road that I come in contact with nearly on a daily basis, with any errands that need doing, or any places that need to be reached – for me, it connects the centre of Cannes (and more importantly the closest route to the beach), and my outlet for the transport: the train and bus station. This is where I have my local Kebab takeaway (there is more than a handful to choose from), and the bakery, butchery, and my supermarket is all along this road. Moreover, it is nearly entirely North African, and sometimes I can be the only white person walking down the road, and no-one pays attention to me what so ever. At midnight, when the streets are sparsely populated, still I’m not noticed – packed or empty! They just go about their day, smoking on the side-walks outside the convenience store or the laundry-mat or anywhere and everywhere to be honest. An older classier lot smoke outside at coffee tables, the few restaurants that are able to fit tables in the vicinity as the side-walks are tiny, another characteristic of this road. The narrow side-walks mean, I’m constantly dodging people, over-taking the old people (that could be dead as they move so slow), while avoiding big groups of North African males though they couldn’t care less about me, but that is why I avoid them so I don’t bump into them! It is away from the glamour on both sides, on the one side up upon the hills of Cannes are the beautiful expensive houses tucked away in their exclusivity, (the higher you go the more expensive the home). While on the other side is Cannes centre, the glamorous Croissette filled with luxury stores (such as Burberry), posh beach-side restaurants and massive hotels (like the famous Carlton). Also the iconic Palais de Festival is along here (the venue which hosts many business conferences but more importantly for the city, the famous Cannes film festival)! Republique and where I live divides these two different so-called havens, the mountain and the beach, as Republique is that part of Cannes you don’t read about in guide books or see in the travel programmes – but my ‘local’ everyday spot! I’ve been living in Cannes since October, and up until now this region has been quite slow and recluse, as in the winter months not a lot happens. It is a summer place, which tremendously changes from (now on in), as the city becomes more populates by tourists flocking from all over. Already from now (the start of April) more activity has begun, as the streets are fuller, but also the events are on their way: the Cannes film festival, the Monaco Grand Prix, the Monte Carlo Tennis Masters, while the bars, restaurants, and beaches of the region are going to be buzzing (up until September)! You have the famous St Tropez for example along the coast further West that is known as the hang-out spot for the rich and famous, whereas Monaco actually houses the rich elite in the far south-east of France right by the Italian border. Nonetheless in the off season there has been things to do, such as visiting Grasse where 70% of the world’s perfume is cultivated. I’ve visited famous towns which have been immortalised in cinema history, such as the bridge at Eze village (shown in Hitchcock’s to Catch a thief), Cap d’Antibes (where Picasso resided for sometime), while writer F Scott. Fitzgerald lived in St Raphael, and all along the coast there have been incredibly famous fashion shoots such as Bridgette Bardot who immortalized the beaches of Cannes with her famous photos from 1953. This is the Cote d’Azur which stretches a long way along this magnificent coast; the gem of France representing fun and recreation where the wealthy and famous have homes such as Elton John’s holiday home (near Nice) and Johnny Depp lives with his family somewhere in the region (my friend spotted him on his first day here). What's more, retirees from all over the world flock here, the region has 163 different nationalities who settle in this perfect place to end their new lives. The biggest city in this region is Nice (and the fifth biggest in France), it is where I had my biggest hub of social activity, as it housed the largest group of fellow English assistants in the Alpes Maritimes Provence. Here, much action and activity occurred. It personified the up-and-down stay the assistants had in France. Where some had their wallets stolen, others were attacked, one was even raped! It has been a topsy turvy adventure for many, with some discovering it takes months to receive a debit card from a French bank; others having their power switched off for weeks at a time; and others having to fight at many meetings with their land-lord to get their deposit back. This region is much different to the rest of France, the life here is slower more relaxed and more dodgy as well! Frenchmen from the north and west that I have spoken to, say people here are lazy and generally have a bad reputation in France. Well I have definitely seen some of this! Nice being largest metropolitan in the area represents this, with its dark under-belly, as for example foreign girls (I’ve known) have been too scared to walk home by themselves. For obvious reasons, two Americans I’m in contact with have had to been hospitalized after incidents with men late at night, therefore the gentleman (I am of course), walked many a lady home in the early hours of the morning when the time called for it. Much of the troubles the assistants had with these Nice residents were with North Africans; my experiences had been mainly positive though, I befriended three cultured intelligent Morrocan lads, and all the North Africans I taught at my school were pleasant and well-behaved. Nonetheless, particularly the girls in Nice were very suspect of these groups of men. The only time I was weary was when I was on the back of my friend’s scooter and these dudes were weaving in and out around us and coming really close – the driving was really horrific! Or when security had to remove a man on the train, who was abusing my friend and I in a dialect of what could only be described as Arabian-French! Maybe they are a sub-group that have been ignored, looked over in the region, as usually they are part of the lower-economic sector (I know assistants that teach large majorities of them in the ‘ghettos’ (as they describe it); they are certainly not part of much of the glitz and glamour that accompanies the region, and perhaps they have been excluded altogether in more ways than one. Whatever the social politics may be, and whatever the struggles others have had, this region is totally incredible, a place which has iconic history and known as a hang-out spot for the rich and famous! For me it has been a treat living here, totally a great experience, and one that I don’t want to end (now summer is on the way), therefore I’m going to do what I can to stay!

The short uneventful yet unforgettable Milanese Adventure!

Recently, just as Gil does best, quite typically (like so many things) I misplaced my passport upon returning to France from Berlin. I got horribly sick, had to take antibiotics, and cure the Bronchitis infection. Upon getting better, an invitation to Milan came at the perfect time, it was a weekend away that was duly needed. For days I had been stuck in my room battling my sickness, now I had the opportunity of another weekend away, this time with a group of dandy British fellow assistants. We were to drive in our (rented) Fiat Punto across the border. No passport needed in this case as when crossing the border it was Italian army-men who were more interested in posing than actually checking cars. I guess that means I illegally crossed the border – woah I'm bad!

Just like the army-men posing cliché, on the highway in Italy a Ferrari passed us in a flash. It seemed to be going double the speed limit (well much faster than us at least), while the engine didn’t make much noise but just the velocity of the car made this subtle whooshing sound. And then entering Milan city (at rush-hour) more stereotypes came rushing threw, with cars not abiding by the most basic road rules and not having any regard for the other cars on the road. One car for example did a u-turn on the middle of a main road blocking all the traffic in its way, this seemed so regular for this driver.

The hotel we booked was a 1 star hotel, I didn’t think they existed, and this one lived up to the dodgy Italian style logement – the television had no reception and the shower had no hot water! The room was a line of five beds, and my friend joked about the piece of ‘high art’ that hung in the centre of the room, that was effectively a cheaply framed generic scenic print.

We may have not been living it up at home, but we ate well at classy restaurants, drunk at cocktail bars, and danced each night away! So the food was incredible, well made pasta, huge pizzas, great coffee and desserts. Friday night I demolished the biggest pizza of my life, the waiters though were more interested in the football on the television than serving food, as Italy were playing an international friendly. The cocktail bars were impressive, just the beautiful Italian waitresses were enough – my friend who is in a devoted relationship joked “he had fallen in love again"! This happened numerous times, in the fashion capital, he nicknamed girls things like ‘knee-high red boots’! And the night life was impressive. Living up to its fashion capital persona, we met Male Models (from Brazil), but they were less interesting than the Italian folk we met at the end of our nights.

Upon the conclusion of our night outside the flurry of bars and clubs we got into many-a debate and discussion about nothing. Still it was great, we barely spoke Italian, they barely spoke English, but still we communicated on this profound level. By profound level I mean, my mate and I were basically just stereotyping by waving our hands saying the few Italian phrases we knew like ‘malto bena’! Anyway I was alright in one guy’s book, just because I could name the three best Italians playing for Juventus – Italy’s most supported team! And this is how many conversations ensued, which team you support for example.

Despite the short whirlwind of a weekend, my conclusion is that I love Italian culture! They are warm, energetic, good-looking, fun, love food, fashion and football of course! What more is important in life ... well having a decent president, an honest citizenry (most people don’t pay taxes but then again taxes are incredibly high but that is probably because so few people pay them), and the corruption of course (Mafia own/run societies in the South). Nonetheless being there as a tourist, you only see the good, the beautiful, the romanticism of Italy – I am really curious what it would like to be to live there – perhaps a future venture of M.I.N.E! Before thinking I can live there I must travel to the south, which is much different to the more sophisticated north where Milan proudly resides as the big business city, so in May my next stop will be Naples!

Berlin - a city of fascination

I was decending on a city my father had come to 45 years earlier, in 1966, he was in West Berlin for a major Jazz festival and then to passed through Check-point Charlie to get to the East to see what the grass looked like on the other side. Well Communism certainly wasn't greener, my dad described the place as dire and poor. Not quite 22 years after the 'Wall' came down and now about 20 years after it is a city that is been fully interspersed into the West, with Capitalism and Freedom of Speech evident. Especially Freedom of Speech, as there is street art sprawled on the walls everywhere!

Ridiculous when you think of the authoritarian regimes that came beforehand, the Third Reich held their headquarters here, and years after this, half the city were forced to worship Stalin’s flawed but truly treacherous ideals. Nonetheless that is why it has this atmosphere about it, because it has experienced all such crazy things and now it is this city that is 20 years young – able to reinvent itself into something better than all its counterparts. It has done just that. It is for Germany's alternative (many gays + other sub-groups flock here), arty hipster city (more artists than anywhere else), where not just alternative Germans go to escape the normality of Germanic culture, but Europeans from everywhere (and even Americans) come to experience something newer, freer and more liberal. The type of people who migrate here, are young, it’s the city for young people!

Case & Point: I went to an 'intimate gathering' which included a host of interns from America, Slovenia, Spain, and Ukraine. At this young apartment, like everywhere else I happened to enter on my short stay there, I was permitted (not because of the wet weather as it didn't rain), to take off my shoes! This Feng Shai symbolism matched the calmness of these large empty chambers, where literally just a computer desk, cupboard, and a futon bed, filled the total emptiness of these 25 metre squared rooms. Despite the empty space there is a warmth that fills these areas - much like the sparsness of Berlin.

And that sparseness of this big city makes it a place where it is everything you cant see by just simply staring and looking, you have to look closer below the surface and immerse oneself to really experience it all. Only then the true phenemonons can come out - I barely scratched the surface, I saw hints or more-like heard stories of it on a occasion but I didnt get that far into Berlin. Unfortunately two different friends bailed on me on two of my biggest nights there for different reasons - so I didnt quite hit up the town or set the underground a-light - there is always next time I guess!

I did experience a good dosage of culture and history though, not so much in the museum form as it is a place that offers so many real authentic visceral things to see around the city, such as: the Communist listening towers in some Berlin forests; Brandenburg Gate; the Parliament buildings; The East Gallery (professional art sprawled on separate remains of 'the wall'); a no-man's land and the turret that guarded that particular area of the wall; Jewish memorial sites such as sets of white empty book shelves in a sterile lit room (representing all the burnt Jewish literature), and pillar cement looking grave-blocks that gained prominence as one decendeded downward with each step taking you deeper into the site; and lastly the museum exhibition I took in was that of legend Helmut Newton a fashion photographer. He returned to Berlin posthumororously with this exhibition as he was born in Berlin but made to flee as a refugee before the war. Now many Eastern European Jews have been granted citizenship into this thriving democracy, and granted the same services as Germans who have worked and lived there for decades. Why? It is effectively guilt, guilt from the war, this is one of Germany's small ways for paying for all the destruction they caused a race of people a few generations ago!

Therefore there is this other side of Berlin, the dark side, where one thinks of all the history - it is mad to think of some of the people that ran this place. For example the surveillance of USSR backed dictatorship may be the result of some weird things I saw, as I witnessed some seriously disturbed characters, and I’ve seen homeless people in big cities, but never so many who had such visual mental deficiencies. And that German strong totalitarian consciessness seems just round the corner. When I took a train to the airport at the end of my stay, the ticket controller asked for my ticket something akin to an SS German Soldier demanding my papers - a chiver went down my spine.

Nonetheless I dont think I can pass judgement on Berlin just yet, a guess another more wilder more intricate visit is on hand!

Leaving France (just for the weekend)!

Gil the Jet-setter? Hardly, Belgium is the third country I’ve now visited in Europe. Brussels to be exact! It is not so different from France however, 90 percent of the occupants are French Speaking, it could nearly be a Northern French City. However Belgium in the North is nothing like France, Flemish speaking in the country-side – it is more similar to Holland. And this is Belgium, a country divided in two, more culturally than politically, though the French half is far more progressive and liberal than the more traditional Flemish part of the country.

By any means, why go to a country like Belgium, there are far more prestigious places than this smallish nation – an odd choice one may think? Well, one of my many new friends, more interesting than most of the rest invited me along for a wild weekend in Brussels! Romain is his name, spontaneous partying is his game, and political incorrectness is his sway of persuasion (it doesn’t sound right but his way of doing things is endearing). He met me (and my travel companion) a bit tipsy in his beloved cashmere sweater pulling the family dog in tow, this set the tone for Romain’s epithet for the weekend – intoxicated well-dressed errand boy.


He met us at the Schuman Roundabout, Schuman the instigator of the European Union (in the 1950’s), so it makes sense that the EU commission is located here. While I wasn’t to know but later that evening I would be dining with a Belgian Diplomat that is on the EU trade board that serves at this massive building! I was to learn much that evening; I knew very little about Brussels before coming, but it is this international city which also houses NATO – therefore it is a place sprawled with many important nationals all across Europe. Romain took me to stay with him at a good family friend, a family friend who lived in a five-storey home in lovely inner suburb of Brussels – it was a terrific place to spend the weekend. A house filled with notable classical art (biblical art-work) and extensive collection of books – one felt you were in a home of both rich culture and history. It certainly was. The man of the house Mr Gregorioff was born in Belgium, but his parents were some of the elites who had to flee Russia because of the Revolution, leaving all their wealth behind. They came to Belgium as refugees with nothing, having to rebuild, and they did, again his family is now living on a wealthy estate. So it was fitting to have the head of the Senegal Law association for dinner, random, but notable – a gentlemanly African lawyer – you just don’t meet them every day.

Romain and my travel companion (who remains nameless for no reason), were happy to leave, they found the whole political talk to be of extreme boredom. I didn’t really know what to think, everything was said in French so I barely understood a word, but caught a startling piece of trivia – Senegal has just 375 lawyers in a nation of twelve million people! Wow! That is your dire fact about Africa for the day!

The next two nights were filled with extreme late night partying, which involved a club on the (less-than-impressive Brussels’) canal but a great club nonetheless; later we went to Bar Rouge with the legendary Charles (studying to be a surgeon) who is 22 dating a woman 20 years his senior – literally old enough to be his mother. (For the record he is not a legend because he is dating a mature woman, he himself was a man ahead of his years - I'm older than him but you could have never had guessed it by talking to the two of us)! This lady acted young and energetic, and got a man closer to her age to buy two bottles of champagne for us – out of desire more than generosity I suppose. The next night we hit the extravagent You Night-Club for a 7th year anniversary, where just casually the (most probable) next Belgian president was in attendance. Belgium at the moment was in a state of limbo, in recent elections no party had won a definitive majority to lead, but negotiations are in process as I write this – and the favourite happened to be in the club. He did not have any body-guards round him, and he was partying with some people half his age, but in politician years he is a baby – he didn’t look over 40. You call America progressive with the youngish half Kenyan Barack Obama, this likely Belgian candidate is gay, one step further than being from an ethnic minority. So goes the progressiveness of the metropolitans of Belgium such as Brussels.



Brussels is a compact place where anyone can know everyone, for instance Romain knows Stromae Belgiam’s latest music sensation with ‘Alors on Danse’, or just the fact I happened to see Belgian’s next president on one of the two nights I was there. Or be invited to an aviation lawyer Igor’s 60 metre (squared) penthouse apartment overlooking the iconic Parc Cinquantenaire, in mentioning him I would like to thank Igor for bestowing much of this information my way. And as I leave Brussels in my memory, I have the knowledge that this was another great experience in my European adventure, and I cant wait for many more!

J'adore Paris

So I’ve become acquainted with some young French people, they all speak a good amount of English, well most of them anyway. It is better when they don’t I guess, as it means I have to try speak some French, something I have to really try and get into the habit of doing – since I do live here! So when I meet with Jennifer to partake in the English/French exchange it is fascinating, two people who barely know each other’s tongue – yet we manage to have a fairly fluent conversation and understand one another. Well we are both slowly getting better. By any means I’ve befriended four Engineering male students, three from Morocco and one from Senegal, a bunch of lads who are some of the loveliest warmest that I’ve met. Then there are the French fashion girls who range from 18-22, I happened to venture with three of them to Paris for the weekend, as one of them is originally from Paris. When a Parisian invites you to come to Paris (for the weekend), to stay with her sister and party it up with her friends . . . there is only one logical thing you can say – hell yes!

Going to Paris is a momentous occasion in one’s life to say the least, as it’s a place with such history and culture you feel like it is somewhere of great significance in the world. Paris is 2nd only to London for population size for urban centers in Europe, and like London, Paris, is populated by people all over the world, many Africans from the French colonies reside here, as well as people from all around France, and obviously from all around the world people flock to see (it is both the most expensive and the most visited city in the world). It is easy to see why it so many people are so taken by it, it’s truly a magnificently romantic place: with all those famous monuments, old buildings, iconic art galleries, and simply the general makeup of the city!

However on my trip to Paris I didn’t: see the Eifel Tower; go to Versailles; enter the Louvre; but I did take in Parisian culture through other means. I lunched on Saturday in your typically Parisian surroundings, on the top floor of a classic French apartment which is small yet classy, subtle yet warmly decorated – with books and art work instead of flat screen TVs. The lunch was classically French as well, four courses, and one imagines you put on weight eating so much! Not when you have a small breakfast, and an average sized dinner – the French way of eating is healthy I reckon. Even the fats are good for you, camembert cheese with whole-wheat French bread; maybe the Chocolate Pear tart and Cheese Cake quashes my point – still it was delicious!

On Sunday night I was invited to the most special expo I have ever witnessed, a huge building filled with wine makers across the country! Entrance was free, and it is basically all the wine you can drink! Now knowing my Kiwi mates (no offense to them – bless their hearts): they would abuse such a privilege and get totally sloshed! The French people I was with, drunk a bit, but treated it like a piece of art or even a science! They would go from one type of grape to the next, as they conditioned their palate to each style of wine. They started with Champagne, moved onto white, then red, and finished with well aged cognac. These guys took it seriously, shown by their bronzed red teeth, and a favourite box of wine (for the day) that they each left with.

The soiree on Saturday night was equally impressive, with young French people coming together to party it up! Extravagant is one way of describing this party – white was the theme! Granted when fifty per cent of the occupants are gay, the night is going to be more extravagant than your average night out! Nonetheless not sure if it was all the alcohol, the early hours of the morning, or just the fact they are French – they all ended up breaking into patriotic French tunes as they hugged each other swaying with feeling and passion – tis was a lovely site to see!

Nevertheless my best night was the first night, the Friday! I had arrived naturally pumped after a long train journey! We went to a cosy cocktail bar decorated with classic Pop art such as portraits of Audrey Hepburn, we sat on miniscule stools and then got up and danced to Soul! One round of cocktails and we were all energized – we ran the streets of Paris in the 0 degree temperatures, crossing the road impulsively and jumping upon bins – it sounds silly but it was the perfect Paris experience. The vodka in my veins, the coldness on my face, the spirit of my newly found Parisian friends – I felt the passion and the excitement! Their natural (part alcohol-induced) vibe inspired me, and made me realize wow – this place is special – a weekend that will live on in my memory forever!

Settled in France?

France! Wow! What a place of amazement. I’m always surprised by how things work. Pissed off one minute, in total awe the next – the most menial things seem to amaze me in this country. For instance, just about nothing is open on a Sunday, and this isn’t for religious (Christianity) reasons; Sundays is simply a day for families to come together and bond. I boarded at a French family home for a weekend, the whole family hung out on the Sunday – they bickered and argued over board-games, but still they were spending ‘quality’ time together. Something that seems to be a novelty in today’s fast, technology crazed age. The whole country is very community orientated. Again, most things are also closed at lunch-time, as everybody lunches together or people go home from work. School starts early and finishes late putting a major emphasis on learning, and sport is compulsory. I think it is great, I use to get home from school, play video games or watch lots of TV, and eat junk food! These kids eat healthy meals from the government subsidised cafeteria, and spend a whole lot of time with their peers doing constructive things. It’s hard to be obese as child, when you are forced to do some form of exercise and eat properly cooked meals.

What else? The most democratic state in the world? Possibly! They were the first (or second) nation in the modern world to introduce democracy, with the Revolution hundreds of years ago. And this notion of freedom of speech is still thick in their memory, such as the protests of May 1968, where students took to the streets for equality. Since I’ve been here protesting has been ever-present, with striking affecting every aspect of social life. Few trains have been running, few teachers have been teaching, few kids have been attending school, etc etc. Society is at a stand-still! And this makes everyone’s life more difficult, which is the whole point of the strikes. And what are they striking about, President Sarkosy lifting the retirement age from 60 to 62. Two years. Only. But that isn’t the point, it is French culture, and the right of the ‘people’! Personally I think it is unlawful. Sure, I don’t like Sarkosy, or agree with many of his policies, however he was democratically elected by the nation, and so therefore he should be allowed and left alone to govern! If George W. Bush won fairly I may have thought the same, but he didn’t, so he should have been impeached. If an unfair election happened in France there would have been a proper violent revolt. Nonetheless, this retirement law was finally passed through the senate, meaning I have many pressing delays to look forward to . . . I can’t wait!

I’m in the South-East of France, less than an hour on the train from Italy. I just casually popped over to Monaco the other day; you know: that place that has more millionaires per capita than any other country in the world. This region is really plentiful. St Tropez is a little way west, further west is Spain, and Corsica is just South. This week I’m going to Grasse, a small town that produces much of the world’s perfume, and casually popping over to Northern Italy later. It’s surreal how easy it is to make day-trips to these amazing places, travelling along one of the most beautiful coast-lines in the world. I’m very lucky in that respect, but I’ve found many other things tough!

The bureaucracy for one. I needed a medical certificate to be able to attend the student gym; a medical exam to be able to work here; I had to have my birth certificate translated; and had to fill out a stack-full of forms! Just to generalize, the French don’t like speaking English (even if they can), don’t know how to cue, still think smoking is cool and appropriate, and think working 35 hours a week is more than enough.

Ah the French! I can see why the English cannot comprehend the French, and why the French are arrogant. France is ten times nicer, more beautiful (the landscape), more appealing (the weather), more attractive (the people), more interesting (the culture), than England, but England was far easier to adapt to their way of life. Things are straight-forward, and quite frankly that’s what I miss – the British aren’t flashy, not too fussed, and get things done. But the lifestyle here is obviously far nicer – so I think I’ll stay!