Squatting is the undoubtedly most comfortable way to sit.

Recently I have been regularly asked the question 'what on earth where you doing in China?' much more than I had anticipated. Having applied for the three week Chinese language and culture program completely on a whim without really giving it a second thought, two months later I received an email stating that I had been given a place on the mandarin and Chinese culture course at Nanjing University, China. Flights booked within the seven day deadline, I had now committed myself to a 40 hour mandarin course with people I had never met in a country that I had never even thought about visiting.

When travelling and visiting new places, I much prefer to spend extended periods of time in one area in order to take in and understand as much about the people and culture as possible. Naturally, one can not do this with every place in the world in a lifetime and so I ended up limiting my preferred travel destinations to European countries. China had always been a completely strange and foreign land and I was happy keeping it that way.

I didn't expect to enjoy the trip so much. Well I didn't really know what to expect but I definitely did not expect wanting to extend my stay for as long as possible at the end (and that's not just because I wanted to have as much noodles and bubble tea as possible). In a city where the sound of the ice-cream van is really the street cleaning truck, where it's acceptable to sleep at any time of day on any surface and squatting is apparently the most comfortable way to sit (I still fall backwards every time I try), I slowly started to appreciate and really enjoy this new culture that I found myself in.

There is a beauty to the Chinese language that I had never appreciated or understood until I was lucky enough to spend these three weeks intensely studying the language and Chinese culture at Nanjing University. The language is simply structured without unnecessary changing of verb endings and it uses only words that are absolutely vital to the meaning of the phrase. I was won over by traditional Chinese philosophy, which points to the heart being able to think as well as the mind, although the debates during the lessons were intense with medics never ceasing to use science to prove otherwise and our lecturer suggesting that science is just another religion, which sparked even more discussions!
For a country with such a long history, it was sad to see and feel how much of it had been destroyed. Their "oldest" temples were buildings that had been rebuilt during the 20th century in tourist areas where we saw the expected authentic Chinese architecture which in actual fact had the feeling of a film set and had lost the 'sense' of history you often find when, for example, walking into an old church or castle in Europe.

I felt we were either treated like royalty or aliens. Outside of the olympics, which started while we were there, we were some of very few tourists, which resulted in constant stares (particularly at our height) and requests for photographs together - it was amazing to see that taking a photo with someone could make them so happy and excited. It's also hard to appreciate just how much people there are cut off from the western world - though attempts to show otherwise didn't go unnoticed with an abundance of western style shopping departments and brands. When we asked our favourite noodle lady to take a photo of us it seemed like she had never held a camera in her life...and this resulted in a very, very, very close-up picture of our faces.

The sheer number of people was also incredible. If you consider that London has a population of 8.5 million, Nanjing (which is just one of a group of big cities in China) has a population which matches that, not including 'urban' areas. So many people meant so many vehicles on very wide roads and with all their crazy driving - criss-crossing lanes and fitting entire families on one scooter - we still never saw a single accident!

Regretfully, my 40-hour mandarin course didn't mean that I was able to really converse with local people so I couldn't get a real sense of how it is to live in China without western influences, and anyone that could speak english well enough to explain to me had been educated in 'the West' so their view was slightly obscured to those who had never left the country and who, I feel, would have given a more realistic picture of daily life.

Back in the UK, I'm surprised to realise I really miss China. Upon my return I would hear people speaking mandarin and feel like I could pick up the odd words and at least understand the structure of the language while my stomach would be begging me for one more bubble tea and noodle lunch from our favourite street food lady. Maybe I'll be back sooner than I thought.

Unexplained abundance of watermelons on every corner

Word of advice: approach this beverage step by step

Buddhist incense

A man transfixed by his kite 

Two types of Chinese dumplings - the bigger ones are often eaten for breakfast

So so many lights

Outdoor dining

Casual corner store snack

Life Goes On

Three days before my 21st birthday and I present to you another apologetic introduction for another late blog post which has actually been written in my mind for a while now but for which I hadn't found time to sit down and transfer to a medium that can be easily accessed by everybody else. The ends of events and periods in our life are always the busiest times as you suddenly realise that the finish line is fast approaching and yet you don't feel that you've done everything you wanted or needed to do. The title, meant to be the reasoning behind this delay, reflects my current pace of life which is rolling along faster than I would like as I try to profit as much as possible from a few weeks in Canada before running off to China for a month - A Russian Abroad part 3 if you will. From Bristol and Bologna to Canada and China (let's ignore Toulouse for the sake of example) maybe I should continue my traveling alphabetically so the next place I visit needs to begin with a D - an A-Z of A Russian Abroad...we'll see.

There are parts of culture that you really can only really experience by living with and going out with french students: the term 'fatigué' would normally be used as an adjective to describe someone who is tired. I can now never used that word without thinking of my flatmates using it more as an insult to describe someone who is a bit boring and a drag to hang out with - my flatmates would jokingly (I hope) ask me if I was 'fatiguée' that day... Going to a club for an end of year gala evening and seeing professors there with the students until five in the morning was a surreal experience. Don't they have a bedtime? And through exams, deadlines, and a flatmate's friend breaking up with his girlfriend I also discovered that red wine, bread and cheese really is the cure for everything.

Although I left Toulouse 2 weeks ago now and the last 9 months are a blur which could have easily been a dream, some last minutes thoughts have been lingering on my mind. I'm often asked if I feel english considering I've lived in England for most of my life or if I feel russian or canadian. I can definitely relate to english culture and the way of life but in the end of the day I still feel canadian and russian given my close attachments to my roots. However, as a good friend of mine said to me the other day 'sometimes I'd just rather spend my time with english people'. Fair enough. Is it the language, culture or way of talking to people that means that no matter how many interesting foreigners you might meet, at the end of the day, you sometimes just prefer to spend time with people from your own country where you've grown up? Yet even in Canada I find I miss english humour which is often lost on people here and I often have to repeat what I say, tweaking my accent so that people can understand me.

At the end of June I played in a concert just outside of Toulouse in a town called Mazères. I noticed that there were many older people wandering around the streets and then realised that in Toulouse I rarely see them. Toulouse seems to attract the younger generation - students, recent graduates and young families - which fuels the city's constant energy and then, when it gets too much, people leave to see out their twilight years in a peaceful, idyllic, french, countryside town.
Interestingly enough it was while doing research for my french essay about 'l'identité toulousaine' that I fell in love the city - about two weeks before I was due to leave. Quite a change from the indifference I felt towards it when I first arrived and was missing Italy. Talking to so many 'toulousains' meant I realised what a great city it is and the strong relationship people have with the history, culture and youthful dynamic of the city. Better late than never I suppose.

Anyway, life does go on. All good things must come to an end and now is the time to see if all the promises to visit and skype every week hold out. Canada has seen me doing yoga three times a week, cutting down trees, driving a tractor and swimming in the ocean every evening - a complete yet welcome contrast to intense, european city-life - and pre-departure reading about China is due to start any day now. What do I miss the most? Good italian coffee, long lunch breaks, fresh baguettes, italian ice-cream, french cheese and red wine (see above), italian hand gestures, La Garonne (the river in Toulouse), and french paperwork. (The last one is obviously a joke).

A big thank you to people who have read through my Erasmus experience with me - it's been an absolute pleasure.

Lots of love,

xxx 

Testing out my new camera

Spontaneous weekend to Florence and Bologna

Outdoor orchestra concert at Mazères

The Things I've Learnt

Ironically when I find myself the most inspired to write my blog is when I also find myself at my busiest with no time to sit down and share my experiences!

All the same, I'm now temporarily back in Italy with a few spare minutes to share my latest thoughts and experiences with you, all the while being grateful that my Italian hasn't left me since being away and that the city and the people (and the food) are just as great as I remember them. I was finally able to enjoy a truly good coffee after two months of the frenchies' failed attempts to prove that they can rival their neighbours and you can never go wrong with an italian cooking you a decent plate of pasta. Moving out of my house to move into a new apartment in a couple weeks time I found all my old italian notes from when I just arrived to Bologna with things such as "Che ore sono?" (What time is it?) and laughed at the fact I felt I had to write something down which now comes so naturally to me. It's encouraging to see improvement that's for sure - I really used to be so horrendously useless at Italian.

The other day I came across another blog post titled 'The Things We Learn From Strangers' and it reminded me of a flight I took from Texas to London a couple years ago in which I spent six hours chatting to the guy next to me who came from such a completely different background - a young dad of five home-schooled kids who had never left the US. Always (arguably unfairly) skeptical of americans from Texas and having had these views confirmed while waiting to board the plane at the gate I wasn't very enthusiastic when he struck up conversation and started asking question after question about life in Europe but six hours later my mind had been changed and I was left reflecting on his way of life back in the States. As this blog post says, you really can learn something from everyone you meet. Though I have met so many great people during Erasmus (and even before), how many people have I actually kept in touch with after our hour, day, week, or month of being best friends? Honestly, very few... but that doesn't mean I haven't remembered stories they've shared with me, things I've learnt from them or experiences we've enjoyed together.

Last week, my boss invited me to go with her and her husband to a private concert in Toulouse. Never one to say no to a free concert, especially when there's a piano concerto involved, I came along and found myself in the centre of the upper-class, bourgeois bubble of toulousain society. Turns out the concert was sponsored by big companies in Toulouse and so was essentially a lovely example of industry and culture in Toulouse coming together but I questioned whether the majority of the people there really had an interest in classical music or whether they were just there by obligation. Sat opposite the head of Toulouse airport, nearby one of the bosses at airbus and finding myself a few metres away from the new elected mayor of Toulouse during the interval I felt slightly out of place as a student wearing my denim jacket and trainers but certainly enjoyed observing the beautiful manicured wifes that they all had on their arms and realising that all the really important men seem to have incredibly big noses. Is that just a coincidence? My boss not really being one for cosying up to people and engaging in small talk about the weather and how Fabienne* and Jacques* from a dinner party months ago are doing, we greatly enjoyed people-watching from a distance while making the move to secure prime central seats during the interval.

A couple days later I was brought back to earth when I went to another concert of my own accord and was met with crowds of people outside and a completely locked concert hall. Ten minutes of waiting and listening to surrounding frenchies getting angrier and angrier about the lack of information, a window on the second floor opens and a woman pops her head out to explain that protestors somehow got into the hall during the day, haven't let the orchestra rehearse and are unwilling to move or even negotiate in order to facilitate the running of the concert. How bizarre. The french really do just strike or protest whenever and wherever they feel like it.

I recently realised how ridiculously easy it is to make a bit of pocket money teaching english. It's a language that an incredible amount of people want to learn and being a native english speaker means that people will jump at the chance to rack your brains for an hour trying to extract and take in as much of the language as they can. To this end, I decided to complete an online TEFL course so I do feel somewhat qualified to actually teach english even just for a couple hours a week. Some parts of the course involved considering different ways to teach the language in terms of whether to start with grammar, vocabulary, or to get people speaking from day one even without any exposure to the language. It made me think about teaching grammar - or even using grammar that I've learnt for my languages but then receiving the reaction "yeah but no one says that!" Well, why are we learning it then?! So it's 'technically' correct but the majority of the people speaking that language don't say it like that and don't really tend to use it in written language either. Who is this person who has decided that the most common form is the 'incorrect' one or the 'correct' one is the one that no one uses. Surely, the 'correct' way of speaking would be the way to most effectively express yourself in line with the current use and development of the language of the people you are talking to. Rant over.

I'm being summoned to make lunch and I haven't even got round to sharing my excitement for month of fun round 2 which is starting in no less than 29 days....

A la prochaine,

xxx


*insert any typically french names

A private tour of the Toulouse Observatory

Toulouse at it's finest on the first warm evening of the year

The perks of teaching english to children

Easter Sunday brunch in line with typical french traditions

Is this Art?!

Yesterday I took advantage of all french museums being free on the first sunday of the month and dragged myself across town to the museum of contemporary art in Toulouse - 'Les Abattoirs'. I have never felt I've been able to really 'understand' art as I feel I should however I do appreciate it's importance in culture and will always take time to visit new art galleries and see new exhibitions...maybe in the hope that one day all art will suddenly start to speak to me - who knows.

My interest for contemporary art was sparked when I visited the museum of contemporary art in Bologna on a guided tour and when explained to me, I felt I could understand the works much more. In Toulouse, I also partook in a guided tour of the museum and was taken through the joys of Georges Matthieu* and Sigmar Polke (the german equivalent of Andy Warhol). At the end of the tour we were met with a big, white room containing three pianos and a drum kit. The pianos were connected to a small windmill outside and so would move when it became windy outside (often crashing into each other) while the tap in the ceiling would release water onto the drums when the neurons in the air become particularly active (don't quite me on the scientific part of this). So a very cool idea and fun for a few minutes but is it art...? I wasn't completely convinced.

*I can't help but include a quick side note about Georges Matthieu.

He was an incredibly prolific artist, especially during 1950's and was considered to be the father of lyric abstraction (which broadly refers to modern painting after the war). When painting, he would have someone next to him noting, minute by minute, everything single thing he did - the kind of paint he used, how he threw it on the canvas and how much he used etc. I also questioned his painting really being 'art' however when the tour guide explained how the canvas (produced in exactly1h 53m) represented the Battle of Hastings and proceeded to take us on a ten minute journey of how the different parts of the canvas represented different parts of the battle I was mesmerised and completely convinced.

In other news, during a trip to Bordeaux a few weeks ago I experienced hundreds of french people having oysters and champagne at 10am on a Sunday morning. It's not the first thing I think of having when I wake up on a sunday morning - I'm more of a tea and crumpets kind of girl - however I have vowed to try it in the next week or two. (My friend who visited me in Toulouse refused to embrace the french custom however I have since managed to convince someone else to try it with me - I can't wait).

I realise I haven't done a blog post since I just arrived here so I would like to share a few interesting differences I have picked up on between France and Italy (and England).

The bus drivers are really really really nice here! They always wait if you're running towards the bus or banging on the door as they are about to drive off and even if they're stopped at the traffic lights and you're really desperate. They say 'bonjour' and 'au revoir' to everyone and everyone replies with a 'bonjour' and 'merci'. On a daily basis I also see people ask the driver a quick question and end up chatting with them all the way until their stop.

Recently promised pasta for dinner, my mouth watered as it recalled the tastes of fresh parsley, tomatoes, garlic, onions and maybe some feta which formed the delicate pasta sauces I became accustomed to while in Italy and I hungrily watched the clock until dinner time. Dinner time arrived and I was met with a mush of overcooked pasta, watery tomatoes and soggy onions. Not to be repeated.

Lastly, while Italy is absolutely beautiful and there is history, cultural, music, art and beautiful architecture. During my time there I found that it felt as if was enough for people there or they no longer felt the love and attachment to the country that they once had and so there was little motivation or determination to create even more beautiful yet more modern art, culture, music, and beautiful architecture.Toulouse isn't the most beautiful city I've been to or lived in by any means - there are beautiful churches like any city but nothing like places in Italy (or dare I say it, Bristol) - however, there is constantly something new and interesting going on. There are always to plays to see, new/old films to watch, new culture festivals to go to, new live music to listen to and new exhibitions to see...week in, week out. There are hundreds of student events and the number of different types of really good food establishments is truly impressive.

Living in Italy is like living in a gentle dream from many years ago - it's magical and romantic but it doesn't seem quite real. Living in Toulouse is living a life which is constantly moving forward and I'm struggling to keep up with the pace but I want to try so I'm going to start running.

A la prochaine,

Bisous,

XX

cute little house on my way to work

student night at the museum...at my favourite museum - musée des  augustins

The Battle of Hastings

The best way to learn a language is to fall in love.

I present to you a more insightful and pensive blog post as opposed to my usual ramblings of the activities which I deem to be worthy enough of recounting to my loyal readers, you have been warned.

My boss told me that the best way to learn a language is to fall in love. I think it's safe to say that my mother's english has certainly improved a great deal since she met my father and my boss is from Columbia but married a french man 20 years ago and her french is now perfect - so those are two good examples of her statement being true. This statement - which I heard at my first day of work - fueled a variety of different thoughts which I refer back to when thinking about my progress in language learning and my greediness to learn as many as possible without worrying about completely mastering one.

Firstly, do I even need to learn other languages? The majority of people that I meet from mainland european countries speak english - not fluently by any means - but enough that they want to benefit from an english person and carry out the whole conversation in that language. The other point is that I could easily decide to stay in England in my comfortable bubble and not worry about needing to learn languages to meet other people or understand foreign films/books (as are the wonders of subtitles and google translate) - there are already lots of interesting people in England, many of which I haven't met and I could bide my time staying there and just enjoying the occasional holidays in non english-speaking countries with citizens who can speak english already anyway. A very dear spanish friend from Italy asked why he needed to learn Italian when he would return back to Spain where everyone spoke spanish and he would live and work there. Fair enough.

Though this is the cynical side of me which appears when I see the hundreds, even thousands, of pounds/euros we spend on language learning and the difficulty of truly mastering a foreign language when you are over the age of about 10 - hmmm, maybe you really do need to fall in love to learn a language. It's cheaper and probably more enjoyable than sitting at home pouring over grammar books and useless lists of vocabulary with building amounts of frustration.

I initially never believed in "Culture Shock" - as my university puts it.

'Culture shock is caused by the stress of being in a new culture...a person with culture shock may experience some of the following symptoms: irritability, headaches or stomach aches, excessive concern with health, easily tired, confusion, anger, anxiety, and lowered work performance.'

I always thought of myself as flexible and easily adaptable but I have since learned that when I'm happy in one place and forced to move to another place full of the unknown and uncertainty, I'm much less so. 

I came across this realisation when I was asking myself why I had left a country full of people so relaxed who focused more on the time of their next coffee and what they would have for dinner that night than paperwork and rules, to a country full of people who seem to actively search for ways to create more paperwork for everyone involved. I had been to three different phone shops a total of 9 times over the space of seven days before I eventually found myself with a working french number and my regular stop-in at the bank every morning on my way to work for the first week or two meant that they stopped even bothering to ask my name and had all my details already up and ready.  This definitely gave me at least two or three of the symptoms listed above.

It also seems that the buses aren't "free" here as they are in Italy... meaning that everyone here always honestly scans their ticket upon boarding (this completely caught me off guard when I arrived) while in Italy you have the fun of keeping a suspicious eye on everyone on the bus to look out for someone who might be hiding a ticket machine under their jacket and waiting to catch you just after the next stop. 

Other than that, french bread is so much better - and in constant supply at the house of the family with whom I'm living. Though my body has had to adjust to the copious amounts of meat which seem to be a given at every meal - I was actually treated to one pasta, meatless dish which made me realise that french people don't know how to cook pasta. It's something that should be left to the Italians...or people who have had the fortune to learn from fellow Italians...I miss the fresh basil and parsley always in the fridge and used in the majority of meals and the simplicity of the dishes which could be whipped up in a matter of minutes.

However, I do have my security blanket which I fall back on in every new country. Playing in an orchestra is something I have always done since I can remember, and it's something that I know how to do relatively well and the basics don't change from country to country. Yes, some of the terminology might be different, however, I never have problems understanding what is being said and it gives me a breath of fresh air away from racking my brains for vocabulary I learned for A-level and which has since escaped me or trying to refer back to the lists of phrases which take or don't take the subjunctive.

Anyway, I have made lists of things I want to do in Toulouse before I leave and have already done the natural history museum (having taken advantage of all museums being free every first sunday of the month) and the cathedral in Toulouse which is one of my favourite cathedrals I have seen, so I promise a more activity, cultural blog post in a couple weeks time.

Lots of love

A xxx

A house in the french countryside weirdly dedicated to an indian guru

Toulouse Cathedral - summer made a brief appearance

Inside the cathedral - the organ looked so randomly place on the wall

Two for the price of one.

I have come to realise that being one of the lucky ones who has two erasmus experiences over the course of one year means I get to learn two languages, about two cultures, experience two different cities/countries and meet completely different types of people. So no matter how tough leaving one experience might be, I get to do it all again.

My last few weeks in Italy were packed with doing as much as possible accompanied by the odd panic attacks about going to France. Living in a city for just a few months, I saw parts of the city that residents of many years had never bothered to seek out because I felt the pressure of a time limit to get to know the city so I tried to do as much as possible. This included the interactive museum of the history of Bologna, the museum of the history of pianos, the music museum, going for sushi one last time, visiting all the little places which I had thought looked nice but never actually tried and saying yes to every invitation, not wanting to miss out on seeing friends that I would soon need to leave or missing out on more time walking around the city. Among all this I was introduced to a new italian word - cicisbeo - is a word from the 18th and 19th century which basically describes a companion for a married woman who would escort her around town and to various social activities when the husband is otherwise engaged. Now I'm definitely not married but when I found myself on my own, I did often call on the same two italian guys to accompany around town. In my last week I also discovered that the best place to visit in one's first week of living in a new city - no matter how much you might want to fit in - is the Tourist Information Office. I wish I had gone there every fortnight or so to find out all the latest information and things going on in the city. 

Taking advantage of discounted erasmus activities, I went skiing for the first time (cross-country skiing at the age of 3 doesn't really count). The first couple hours involved people getting more frustrated with me taking my time to come to terms with the concept and the technique. After a lunch break I found my rhythm and was having an incredible time. Why hadn't I discovered it before? I blame my parents. I got on the bus at the end of the day full of adrenaline and excitement for how well the day had gone and woke up the next day thinking about doing it all again. How many people can say they have gone skiing for a day in the north of Italy and then the next day taken a plane to the south - Palermo, Sicily. (Yes, this is the seamless link onto my next paragraph).

I was lucky enough to be treated to flights to Palermo as a christmas present and so I went there for five days at the end of January with my friend Giuseppe who is Sicilian and was very keen to show me the city. I learnt that Italy is a country with 60% of Europe's churches and an unbelievable amount of very diverse history. I was also repeatedly told that Sicily is the most beautiful island in the world and that the fact is undebatable - I would have to say it's the second most beautiful after Vancouver Island in Canada... I can't be disloyal. I saw 2% of Palermo's 250 churches, I learnt about Serpotta - a renowned italian sculptor from the 17th and 18th centuries whose work is all over Palermo and who worked with stucco* - and I sampled the delights of le arancine and i cannoli and a brioche with ice cream inside. I saw one of the most beautiful cathedrals I have ever seen - in Monreale and decorated entirely with mosaics - and I learnt that though I think I understand and speak italian - sicilian is a complete different thing...definitely not italian that's for sure. The city is beautiful but it seems that some of the people don't respect or appreciate their city. It's sad to see and hear about people throwing rubbish out of their windows and stray dogs all over the city. It is difficult to know where to start to help improves thing, maybe the education in schools in order to target the younger generation?

I left Italy feeling sad for having to leave a place in which I'm so happy and a culture with which I have completely fallen in love, but with curiosity for the new city and the people I might meet.

After a 20 hour coach journey filled with butterflies and the odd tear, I arrived to Toulouse. I'm very lucky in that I was met at the station by another stagiaire and treated straight away to lunch at my boss's house. The first thing I did in the afternoon, having learnt from Bologna, was to go to the office with all the information of things going on for young people in the city. I picked up a pile of leaflets and booklets about things to do so at least I won't be bored. I had already had a room lined up with a french 

family who are very welcoming and arriving in a new country with home comforts already set up is very reassuring. My second day here my boss invited me to join her and a couple of her friends to visit a lovely medieval town about an outside of Toulouse called Cordes-sur-Ciel which is very charming and was tranquil without the throngs of tourists which come with high season. A pleasant start to life in a new place - which definitely beats staying at home and wondering how I am going to make friends.

Having gotten used to italian culture and habits, it will take time to readjust however, on the plus side, I at least understand everything that is said to me (the same can't be said for my arrival in Italy and I didn't understand anything) even if my attempts to express myself come out more in italian than in french.

A la prochaine fois,

xxx

*stucco - is a special technique used for sculpture in which it is applied wet and so the sculpture must work very quickly to ensure he finishes before it dries. The finish is more refined and smooth and very light in colour.

Typical bolognese food - an outing with a cicisbeo

Stunning trees in Palermo

Beautiful mosaics

Blending in so well - I came prepared

Arab influences on churches in Palermo

The new way to eat ice cream and add to the calorie count

Apologies.

As you can probably see, I have finally found a number of different ways to fill my time to once again be as busy as possible as this has contributed to the sudden absence of blog posts. As a result I have an unusual amount of thoughts and experiences I would like to share with you, however, I will keep them short and brief - I'm hoping to gain readers, not lose them. I must also apologise in advance for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes which might appear - it seems that as my italian gets stronger, my english gets weaker - one would wish to be able to speak at least one language without difficulty!

          I last updated in November after the chocolate festival which came to Bologna. From December 1st I decided to stop communicating verbally in english and watching english programs (after a quick phone call to my brother asking him to sky plus a few programs for me so I could watch them when I got home). The timing, however, wasn't ideal as on the 1st I went up north with a friend from Bologna to watch my dad's concert in a lovely town, of about 6,600 inhabitants, near Venezia called Gradisca d'Isonzo. A charming little place which, with it being winter, was basically deserted and I loved it. Beautiful countryside, nice weather, and nice hotel for the night made it a welcome break from Bologna. I hadn't seen my dad perform in concert for a while and hadn't seen him in three months so it was great to see him and show him how much italian I have learned! We then (with the other musicians) went to spend a day in Venice. I had been there only once before when I was much younger and had ended up being ill for much of the trip so this time I felt like it was my first. The weather was beautiful and the lack of tourists for the winter season meant we were able to go straight into Basilica di San Marco without queuing or fighting with the crowds. We also went to one of the smaller islands to see the graveyard containing the tombs of Stravinsky, Diaghilev and Brodsky - a stunning place with a great view of the sunset over the city.

          Getting into the christmas period I was interested to learn about the differences in holiday tradition between an english and italian christmas. I introduced my group of friends to 'Secret Santa' and tried to convince them how that the only thing you can eat at christmas is a roast - all this business with a pasta course and a fish course doesn't do it for me. We had a christmas dinner at my house and I also ordered some christmas crackers - another foreign thing for them - and they were thoroughly entertained by the english game of guess who which the crackers supplied. Phoebe and I were surprised and also overwhelmed to discover that the italians had bought us small gifts to celebrate our time here which included printed out pictures of all of us during this term - a lovely gesture with some great memories.

          Going home for a mere 8 days was a very surreal experience. I almost felt like I hadn't been away at all - you often forget how life is going on in the same way as it always has when you are having a completely new and different experience abroad. I found that certain phrases seem more natural to say in italian rather than an english (having not spoken english for three weeks) such as secondo me (i think), dai andiamo (come on, let's go) and fammi sapere (let me know) just seemed to flow more naturally in italian - maybe I am finally becoming slightly italian? On the other hand, maybe not.

          Coming back to Italy in time for new year, I had the realisation that I have only just over four weeks left in this wonderful country before I have to move and do it all over again in a language I now feel has almost completely left me! I was lucky enough to be invited to stay with a friend in Puglia, near Gallipoli, to see in the new year so I took a ryanair flight down to the heel of the boot that is Italy early on the 31st of december full of excitement to see a new part of the country. It is very beautiful - contrary to well-known stereotypes about southern italy - and my friend has a charming house in the countryside near a small town called Taviano from which you can see the see and the great numbers of olive trees. I sat down to lunch on the first day with my friend and his mother and was immediately taken aback by the speed with which she spoke - by the time I had processed the first sentence she had started a whole new story! However, I quickly adjusted and she was telling me about how beautiful it is in the summer and how they collect the olives from their twenty or so trees and are be able to make about 100kg of pure olive oil which will last them about 1-2 years! I was taken to see the city of Gallipoli which is a port right on the sea with the old part technically being an island which has since been connected to mainland and the new part of the city. Only in the south of Italy will you encounter a meeting of about ten older gentlemen who call themselves The Society of Fisherman of Gallipoli who are drinking and smoking around a big table and talking about nonsense. I was also lucky enough to encounter the pinnacle of an italian stereotype in the form of an old auntie (la zia) of a friend who we found sweeping the pavement and who then proceeded to start sweeping the street. The actual street, where cars go and she was sweeping it with a small house brush. Unbelievable. She then came over to us and started speaking in a flow of dialect (salentino) and spent about ten minutes trying to figure out the family tree of my friend Giulio - with whom I was staying - to see if she knew a grandparent or auntie or uncle and if she knew of news (or gossip) about them. The smallest woman I have ever met and the perfect way to sum up the feel of this small italian town in the south with everyone knows everyone and most people seem to be related in some way or another. Absolutely brilliant.

          Sorry for going on slightly longer than expected. I now have a busy few weeks left before I go full of researching for my year abroad essay, desperately trying to learn as much italian as I can before I go in the hope I won't forget it all immediately on my arrival in France and visiting the last few places I haven't yet been to in the city.

          I leave you by sharing my excitement that as an avid sleep talker as I have been told my housemates and dorm mates at school, a few weeks ago I was told that I once again was sleep talking, however, this time I was sleeping talking completely in italian - maybe I am indeed on my way to becoming italian after all :-)

Buonanotte ragazzi,

xxx

The view from the house I would like to buy in Gradisca

The house I would like to buy in Gradisca

Father playing a lovely concert

Venice with no tourists and great weather

Island with the cemetary

Pre-christmas dinner

Old castle wall in Gallipoli