What this blog is about/not about

I have finally gotten around to writing a little blurb for new readers about what this blog is about/not about. Feel free to read for yourselves in the tab above.

Why I don't want to live in Paris (and bonus: why I am jealous of people living in Paris)

Paris... ah... Paris... everyone wants to live there, right? 

I fear the day my husband comes home and announces that he has a wonderful opportunity to work and live in Paris. Because I know that I could not say no as a position in Paris would be the cream of the crop for him. Thankfully, we think it will never happen because competition in his field is fierce in Paris.

So why don't I want to live there? 

After my London days, I knew that I was not made for big city living. London is great to visit, but to be honest, I didn't really like my time there. I didn't hate it, but I certainly didn't love it. After London I moved to Wales (a planned move) and I really enjoyed living there. Yes, I realise what I just said - I left a buzzing international centre to go and live in a small rainy city (no, it doesn't rain that much in London, it's just grey all the time), a city which other than a few foreigners passing through for a few months, had a very limited international scene and a city which had a high population of working-class families. Only 3 hours by train from London, yet a world apart. A world which I loved. 

The beach in my Welsh 'ugly, lovely town' as it is known to the locals. I used to come down here in between classes at uni just to breathe in the ocean air. Author of photo: Den Nation. 

The distances are too far apart for me in Paris. I need a less stressful place, preferably one where I can cycle everywhere. I would hate to be chained to the Paris metro and RER, a source of daily stress for some people living in Paris. Another thing that bothers me about the distances is that people are so sick of being suck in transport during the day and often live so far out of the centre that planning an evening out with friends is very difficult. I have friends (mutual friends) that see other less now that they are living in Paris than they did when they lived in separate cities in Province. I like how I can just call up people in Bordeaux and invite them over for the same day or invite them out for that evening and they'll come. 

A café at Gare de Lyon. Author of photo: Den Nation.

No, I don't really have a problem with Parisians. After all, Bordeaux is not known as being the most friendly city in France and I don't blame Parisians for being a bit unfriendly sometimes - I think I would be if I had worked hard all day slaving in an office and had to fight with other commuters for 2-3 hours trying to get home to my family. 

And then there are the house prices. There is no way we could ever afford to buy a place there. Owning our own place is important to us and even though my husband is highly educated and has a "job for life", he could never by an apartment in Paris (unless it was a shoebox). And it's not just housing prices which are higher, eating out and buying food at the supermarket costs more too. The difference in price between living here in Bordeaux and in Paris would not be covered with the 100 euros more a month my husband would receive for moving to Paris.

A statue of Josephine Bonaparte in Rueil-Malmaison, just outside of Paris.
Author of photo: Den Nation.

Not to mention the fact that I don't feel safe there. Pickpocketing is getting to be a real problem there as is aggression in the RER. I know that I could be attacked in Bordeaux or anywhere else for that matter and there is such a thing as common sense and intuition, but I feel that some parts of Paris are really dangerous and my chances of being a victim of aggression are higher in Paris. My husband's colleague, who used to work in Paris, had to walk through a 'danger zone' every day to get to work from the RER station. He would arrive with nothing on him but an old mobile phone in his pocket, his Navigo card and 20 euros in his pocket. What were the 20 euros for? In case he got mugged. I asked him why he bothered carrying any money at all and his answer? "If I didn't have some money on me, they surely would have beaten me up." 

And there's something about living in a tourist city that just doesn't fit my personality. Bordeaux has a lot of wine tourists, but people choose to come here - they come for a reason. A lot of tourists in Paris only go to Paris just because it's Paris. It's not a real reason for not wanting to live in Paris, but I can't explain it, living in a touristy place would bother me. 

Rueil-Malmaison. Author of photo: Den Nation.

Ok, so I've given some pretty convincing answers. But... there is another side to this... 

Things I wish I could bring to Province

1. The transport system. Yes, I know I complained about this, but this is, hands down, the number one thing I would import here. Bordeaux's trams are really elegant, clean and safe, but they are some of the slowest snails on earth. Problem with the tram? Well, it's not uncommon to see huge groups of people walking all together from the centre of the city to the university (a 30-minute walk for the science building, more for the others). If there is a problem with the tram, you are stuck. There is no option to walk to the next stop and wait for the next tram. You're only option is to get out and walk or try to find a bus to take. 

2. I don't really like Roissy, Paris's airport. The airport facilities are great, but half the times when I have a flight arriving there the plane goes around the airport for half an hour 'looking for a place to park because someone's in my spot'. Anyways, despite my complaining, I really wish I could have access to the wide variety of flights that living in Paris could offer me. I hate always having to pass through Paris because there are limited direct flights from Bordeaux. Not to mention the fact that getting to Bordeaux's airport with public transport is another snail ride. At least it only costs 1.40 euros (less if you buy a 10-trip card). 

3. A wide variety of Asian and other world cuisine restaurants. And at decent prices too. Sometimes I look at the prices of take-away menus that we receive and it shocks me so much. We try and wait for trip to Paris to take advantage of all the yummy food on offer there. Yes, there is something that is cheaper in Paris (other than flights). Slim pickings here in Bordeaux. 

4. Lower unemployment rate. I don't think I need to say more about this. 

5. Expat groups. Well, it's no surprise that there are not so many long-term expats here in Bordeaux. They are here... somewhere. 

6. I'm not really crazy about museums and culture so I'll won't really talk about that except to say that don't come here specifically for museums unless you want to go to wine museums. 

So I like to visit Paris, but I also like to leave Paris. I guess you could say that I like it in small doses. My visits there have greatly diminished over the past few years, but I am excited to be going back there next month for a visit. Bring on the Asian food!

My voting hall of shame

Voting is a topic often discussed by expats. Should residents (non-citizens) be able to vote in elections taking place in the countries they reside in? Should citizens living abroad be allowed to vote 'back home'? Should people who gain citzenship via Jus Sanguinis have the right to vote? There are no easy answers to these questions. 

The last time I voted was in the year 2000 back when I was still living in Canada. I had just turned 18 and was led into the voting booth by my father to vote in the general election. I had no idea what I was doing and didn't really have an solid understanding of Canadian politics. That was the first and last time I ever voted. 

I no longer have any voting rights in Canada. It is somewhat surprising that Canadians living abroad lose their right to vote after only 5 years out of Canada. So I lost my right to vote years ago. 

Montreal during winter. Author of photo: Den Nation.

In my case, I agree that I shouldn't have the right the vote. I am totally cut off from Canadian politics and I am barely further than where I was at 18 and voting for the first time. I have no idea what is going on there. Back in 2009 I noticed some of my Canadian friends were talking about a certain Stephen Harper on Facebook. This is shocking - I had no idea he was the prime minister of Canada and I had no idea that the Conservatives had taken the power from the Liberals. I started to think about it and I realised that it had been years that I had had no idea who the prime minister of my own country was. I couldn't believe it. 

Expats like me shouldn't be allowed to vote in elections 'back home'. I do think that maybe 5 years is too short a period, but in my case, it was all it took for my home country to fade to the background. On the other hand, there are many expats who are completely up-to-date with what is happening back in their 'home country'. I think they should be allowed to vote. The problem is, how can a country weed out the 'bad voters' like me from the 'good voters', the ones that should be voting because they are really involved with the situation 'back home' and/or probably will move back one day.

I could have voted in Canada's 2004 and 2006 elections. I didn't. I could have voted in countless local elections in the various European countries I've lived in. I haven't. I could have voted in the UK general election back in 2005 (all Commonwealth citizens legally residing in the UK have this right). I didn't. I could have voted in the Italian general elections. (Note: I actually tried to vote in the last one with the sole purpose of getting rid of Berlusconi but was unable to because the election took place right at the time I moved to Denmark.) I haven't. I could have voted in EU elections. I haven't. When my friend proposed going to the town hall to register for the next EU elections and local elections, I just waved her off. 

The Italian Alps. Author of photo: Den Nation.

A few weeks ago, I passed in front of the town hall and I thought, "Enough is enough, people have died for the right to vote and you just throw every chance you have to vote out the window." This is so true, why don't I care? I should. So I got my papers in order and went to the town hall and registered myself to vote.

My mantra has always been that if someone is not informed, than they should not be voting. People like me who have no idea really should not be voting. These are just excuses in my case, though. I have everything at my disposal to make an informed decision. I am a highly educated person who can easily access information over the internet, call embassies, talk to other people to learn more (including my friends and family back in Italy and Canada), read books, take an interest in politics, etc. After all, politics has an effect my everyday life. I should be interested. It doesn't take much work to change my status from 'not informed at all' to 'somewhat informed'.

So in a bid to get more informed, yesterday I went and looked on Wikipedia to learn more about the last elections I missed in Canada. And that's when I learned about the existance of Paul Martin, Canada's prime minister between 2004-2006. All this time, I thought that Stephen Harper had succeeded Jean Chrétien. What Canadian doesn't know this? I started watching interviews with Canadian prime ministers on YouTube. This is when I learned that Brian Mulroney (prime minister in the 80s and 90s) was actually québecquois. Say what? I had always thought that he epitomised anglophone Canadians. I never would have associated him with a québecquois (no negative undertones here). I was surprised to learn this. Actually, in this interview he says that most anglophone Canadians think he is anglophone and most French-Canadians think he is francophone. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29qpZ7G4Yfo (at the 3:39 mark for those who are interested). I was so surprised when I saw this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0YBdaCIQZo and heard him speak French. And I had no idea that he was a personal friend and political colleague of Lucien Bouchard. It's funny how in French his voice sounds deeper than his English voice. Now that I've watched the English video a second time, I'm starting to think that he sounds more like a native French speaker than a native English speaker, but it's really hard to say.  

Anyway, now it's high time to learn more about EU and Italian politics. I am priviledged to live here thanks to my Italian passport. I feel I should step up to the plate and do something in return. I owe Europe and Italy that much.

Thanks for reading my ramblings!

Happy New Year everyone! (and Blogging about Blogging)

So here I am again finally. Barely 2 hours into 2014 and I am writing here! That's a record considering I have not blogged in a few weeks.

I should be over at my sister-in-law's house celebrating with all the other 'young people'. Instead I am here at my in-laws place writing a blog post while the parents and Mémé get ready for bed. What am doing here and why am I writing?

I suddenly had a longing to write. Pure and simple. Who cares if nobody is reading and if everyone is out celebrating.

I just read Paris at my Feet's latest post: http://parisatmyfeet.blogspot.fr/2013/12/blogging-about-blogging.html

Her post, Blogging about Blogging, is exactly how I feel about blogging. I'm not in this to promote myself and I want this blog to be my place to write whenever I feel like it. Even if that means disappearing for a few weeks and coming back less than two hours into a new year. A few weeks ago a blogger I really liked suddenly stopped blogging, saying that the reason she was quitting blogging was because she felt she wasn't a good writer and that she felt too much pressure to blog. I've got to ask myself, why?

The answer is clear to me. Like Paris at my Feet said, there are more and more lifestyle blogs that read like advertisements and less 'assistants in France + years later' in France blogs. Like Paris at my Feet, I would love to be more personal in my writing, and goodness knows if any of my acquaintances ever found my blog they would know it was me, but for now if I want to keep sharing and keep this a semi-personal blog, I need to be semi-anonymous. I will never become a lifestyle blog. I want to be honest with myself and anybody who comes here wanting to know about life in France (or Paris for that matter).

I hope that other bloggers can find the inspiration to just be whatever they want to be and not follow social media pressure. Please just stop fighting the push towards having a 'perfect' blog and pleasing anyone and everyone that might just pass by your blog. Before I started blogging I thought it would be great to have a blog with many followers. Now I think the opposite. It's better to have a few followers that are true followers.

So to answer Paris at my Feet's question, blogging is definitely not dying but metamorphosing into something else. Yes, there are more and more lifestyle blogs, but there is definitely a group of us 'personal' bloggers that still exists and is strong. I'm glad to be part of that group!

Ok, I'm off to celebrate whatever is left of the night. Happy New Year to all my blogger readers and best of luck in 2014.

Here's a confession for you: I can't wait to dig my hand into those M&M peanuts. Yes, that's just how humanly weak I am. Oh, well!

Foie gras as far as the eye can see! Author of photo: Den Nation.

The city that was never meant to be

This is the tale of the city that was never meant to be…

I absolutely love this place. Really, I could totally see myself living there.

So the city I almost moved to (twice) was…

Panoramic view. Photo by Den Nation.

Besançon!!!

I’m not surprised that nobody recognised it from the pictures. Hardly anybody has ever heard of Besançon. I certainly had never heard about it.

Back in the spring of 2007 when I was in my 2^nd year of university all the language students were deciding where to go on their year abroad. A language degree at a British university usually lasts 4 years; the 3^rd year is spent in the country or countries where your language(s) are spoken. You could spend your year at a European (Erasmus) or non-European university, on a work placement, or as a language assistant teaching English. The year abroad is obligatory for most students, but if you have a good reason not to do it, you could be exempted from doing it and go directly into 4^th year. Most mature students, which was what I was, that ask to be exempted receive the exemption.

I asked to be exempted from the year abroad, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me not to it. I knew that I probably would never have a chance like that again, and that if I didn’t do it I would regret it forever. So I told the head of my programme that I changed my mind. That decision changed the rest of my life forever.

Comté and Morbier come from the region surrounding Besançon.
Photo by Den Nation.

As I had changed my mind quite late in the process, there were no spots left at the universities (Erasmus) that were reserved for my programme (translation).  So I had to pick from the universities that were reserved for regular language students. Brest, Arras and Besançon were the cities that still had spots. I couldn’t see myself going somewhere as remote as Brest and while I was tempted by Arras, I chose Besançon. It fit all my criteria: surrounded by small mountains, small city known for its friendliness, bucolic region, beautiful architecture, great local cuisine, campus in the city centre, low cost of living, safe, easy access to other countries (Switzerland, Italy and Germany), etc. I read everything I could get my hands on about Besançon and stared at countless pictures. I really had my heart set out on going there.

Then, one day, my euphoria ended. I was leaving the language building at uni when a professor stopped me, “Did you hear, Den Nation, a spot opened up in Bordeaux and you’re no longer going to Besançon! Isn’t that great?!”

My heart just fell to my stomach. “No, I hadn’t heard, that’s good, thanks for telling me,” I replied, trying to feign some enthusiasm.

I didn’t want to go to Bordeaux. I was absolutely against it. However, because of the programme I was enrolled in, I didn’t have a choice if one of the reserved schools had a spot. I was going to Bordeaux whether I liked it or not.

I had the summer to try and get used to the idea, but I couldn’t. I tried to tell myself that it would be great; that the weather would be better, that the city was beautiful, that the food was good, anything to convince myself. But I couldn’t fall in love with it: I didn’t like wine at the time and Bordeaux is pretty isolated from other countries; except for Spain that is, and I was going to Spain during the second semester of my year abroad.

Along the Doubs River and facing the Citadelle. Photo by Den Nation.

I decided that I would just stay and travel in the region and concentrate on learning the language. Now, years later, I’m glad that I took that attitude. I was there to learn about France and the language after all.

It was during my semester as an Erasmus student in Bordeaux that I met my husband (I think I’ll save that story for another post) so now when I think back on when that professor told me about the change and how I felt… I am so grateful that a spot became available at the last minute!

The summer after my Erasmus year was over I finally made it out to Besançon. It was everything I thought it would be and more. It was such a moving visit: it confirmed what I knew all along, that it was the place for me in France. In my 4^th year at university back in the UK I befriended a girl from Besançon (she was as Erasmus student) and we are still friends to this day. All the signs kept pointing me in that direction…

Fast forward to June 2009. I was finishing my 4^th year at university in the UK with my bisontine friend. My husband had applied to be a fonctionnaire and had taken and passed the competitive exams to be accepted at a fonctionnaire. The nature of his job (academia) meant that he had to audition for a particular position in front of a jury – he couldn’t just be muté (sent by the French government to work in a certain place). So he went around the country auditioning in several cities, including Besançon.

We had left Bordeaux together after the summer of 2008, me to complete my 4^th year of university and him to Paris for a CDD. We really didn’t think that we would ever go back to Bordeaux and Besançon had already slipped from my fingers. There was no guarantee that he would get an academic job. We were almost certain that he would be working another CDD job another year as he was inexperienced and applying again the next year.

Besançon is famous for its grey and pink façades. Photo by Den Nation.

He got the job in Besançon!

I just couldn’t believe it. I kept thinking excitedly, “It’s baaaaaaack!” I was so ecstatic; it was like I was walking on air. I couldn’t believe I was being given another chance.

But guess what? A few days after Besançon offered him a position, good old Bordeaux called and offered him one too. I was incredulous; how could it come down to the same two places again?

You already know which one we picked. Well, my husband picked Bordeaux, not me. I actually think that professionally Besançon would have been easier for me (close to Switzerland), but the position in Bordeaux was more prestigious for him. Thanks to Bordeaux’s prestige in my husband’s field, it will be easier for him to obtain a more higher ranking fonctionnaire position one day. That’s why I said yes.

That was the tale of the city that was just never meant to be.

Bordeaux, the city that was always just meant to be. Photo by Den Nation.

The day after the harvest

"Aaahhh," I screamed to my husband from the bedroom, "I can't move, help me!"

This was me the day after I picked grapes for a vineyard near Bordeaux. Today I'm going to tell you about the reality of grape picking.

There are loads of people with romantic views of coming to France and spending a few weeks getting "back to the basics" by participating in a grape harvest. The reality of the work is very different from the image these people have in their minds. How do I know this? I was one of these people.

Most of the work is done by family, interns who are paid next to nothing, immigrants from developing countries, or people who are "experts" at this kind of work - people who are used to physical labour and toiling in the fields.

Looks so innocent, doesn't it? Author of photo: Den Nation.

There are opportunities for tourists to experience picking grapes during a harvest, but let me tell you something: make sure that the owners are aware that you are a newbie and don't ever try to work as fast and as hard as the "experts". The wine chateau will have their own employees, either the immigrants as seasonal labour or the "experts". I find that the chateaux are not hiring immigrants like they used to: they prefer cheap interns or free help from their family or friends. There are also tons of wineries around Bordeaux looking to hire labourers, but my feeling is that they want to hire skilled labourers (the "experts") not immigrants who are just passing through. This is probably because technology has erased the need for the immigrants doing manual picking; the chateaux need skilled labourers that know how to handle machinery.

Please don't do what I did:

Me: "There's nothing to this, of course I can keep up with the "experts".

Me the next day: "What was I thinking..."

The experience is wonderful, but this is the reality: it is back-breaking work, you will be dirty, the sun will burn you, and your muscles will scream in pain the next day.

At the end of the day I felt fine. I laughed all though the evening with my fellow workers during the dinner at the chateau. I declared that I had never felt better. Haha!

You know how you feel the day after having done some strenuous exercise after a long break? You know the pulling and burning in your muscles that you feel that make walking uncomfortable? Well, the day after I picked graped I felt that. I felt like that times a hundred.

It was the worst muscle pain I had ever felt. So bad that I physically couldn't get out of bed. I went to move my legs and was doubled over with pain. I crawled on the floor to get to the bathroom in the mornings and it took 5 minutes to crawl a few metres. My legs were the worst, so I would use my arms to pull myself on the floor and drag my legs behind. It even hurt just to move my head to the right 5cm. And you know how that pain you feel after exercising lasts a day or two? Well, this lasted 10 days. I'm not kidding, I dragged myself around the house for at least a week.

The moral of the story? Don't be like me and assume that anyone can pick grapes. It's a great experience, but it's not for everybody. You have to start at the crack of dawn as grapes are best picked when it is cooler outside. You work the entire day because when the harvest has to come in, it has to be done ASAP. 10 hour days are not uncommon. A grape harvest is an extremely intensive and delicate operation, one where timing counts for everything. I had these thoughts of spending the day outside under the sun eating the grapes while I worked, talking with the others, admiring the grapes while I picked them, taking the time to breath in the fresh vineyard air... Yeah, right.

The "experts" are like robots - they are so fast you can't even see them picking. I wanted to be just like them, to be part of the gang.

My neighbour works at a wine chateau. She gets up everyday at the crack of dawn and spends the day doing what she loves. This involves a lot of physical activity, but she is used to this and is very athletic to begin with so has little problems with the physical aspect of the job. Being a woman in this industry makes everything harder, but she has such motivation and she works even harder.

Me? I had these ideas of doing some harvest work every year to pick up a little bit of extra money. Who was I kidding?! There's not an athletic bone in this padded body of mine!

I think I'll just to stick to doing what I do best...

Drinking wine!

Cheers! Author of photo: Den Nation.

News

Ok, so I'll just come out and say it: I'm starting a master's programme this autumn. Actually, I've already started. I am going to keep on blogging as to be honest, I am really enjoying interacting with my "Den Nation Blogging Family." I can't believe how many great blogs there are out there and I am happy to finally have "met" you all (after lurking for a couple of years).

I've decided to enroll as a full-time student while still working part-time on the side and travelling (of course, I can't give that up, but this means I'll be working in my hotel room all of next week). Maybe I am crazy, but after spending months of wallowing in my self-pity, I've decided to finally get out and try to change things. This involves finally completing a master's degree. I can't explain it, this has been something that I have wanted to do for a long, long time. A dream you could say. I want to prove to myself that I can do it.

Thankfully I have found an online master's programme that I can fit around my schedule (and my travels!). I am really intimidated by some of the other students, not because they are unfriendly, on the contrary, but because it seems like they know so much compared to me. I feel like I have years of reading to catch up on in order to reach their level of knowledge.

I'll leave you with a few pictures of the city I'll be staying in next week. Any guesses as to where I'm going?

Along the river. Author of photo: Den Nation.

Panoramic view of the city. Author of photo: Den Nation.

For anybody who has been to this city, this picture is a dead giveaway.
Author of photo: Den Nation.

I know there are some of you who know where I am going - please abstain from guessing!

Note: This is one of my favourite places in France and this was where I was almost sent to by my home university on my Erasmus year. At the last minute, the placement fell threw and I was sent to Bordeaux instead. In my last year at university in the UK, I met a French girl from this city who remains my friend to this day (one of my few French friends). I always wonder how my life would have turned out had I been sent here.