Search Results

Recently I’ve been thinking about the direction in which I would like my blog to go in. I know that I advertised it as a way to document my year abroad in France and Spain and me building up the courage to say yes to new things. However, I’ve felt a little suffocated by these self imposed pre-requisites and I don’t necessarily want to pigeonhole my ideas and myself. I’ve been going through a creative slump as of late; moving to a new country and having to learn to adapt and be flexible has been harder than I imagined and it has definitely taken a toll on my mental health (I talked about this in more depth in my previous blogpost). I want to explore different themes- I want to be more candid yet I also do need to (for my own sake) hold some things back. I want to share recipes- if I find them- talk about my fitness journey as I start to head back to the gym and incorporate more photography, which an interest which has been steadily budding throughout my short time on my year abroad. I want to talk about the highs and the lows, favourite moments and top travel destinations of the month, things to avoid, lessons I have learned and friends that I have made. I don’t want this blog to become a ‘What I did on my year abroad’ format. At the same time I don’t want to imitate social media influencers and bloggers, mainly because that isn’t my goal for this blog- I want it to be boundless, for me to be comfortable writing about topics that I find intellectually stimulating, engaging and interesting to write or even sometimes just posts filled with pictures. Who knows? But that’s the beauty of the blog, I don’t want to plan it all completely- I want it to grow and mature on its own- of course I have a vision and some direction but I feel like I should let it run its course too. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been scrambling for blog post ideas as of late- the more pressure I put on myself to write the harder it becomes and I end up putting it off more and more. For me, my favourite blog posts and my best ideas have come when I’m genuinely interested in the topic or theme rather than thinking- what will people like to read. One idea that popped into my head today, just as I was heading to bed was about my personal victories. I think sometimes we forget to be kind to ourselves- to give ourselves credit when we achieve something new- no matter how small it is. The past few weeks I’ve been beating myself up about how bad my Spanish is and how unsettled I feel here in Valencia. I’ve also been neglecting the moments of personal growth that I’ve had- the times I’ve felt proud of myself for overcoming a personal obstacle- so I’m going to share a few of these today because I think we all need to start criticising ourselves less and appreciating ourselves and our achievements more. Sometimes we downplay our mini victories, as we don’t want to seem to be boastful however I think we should give ourselves a pat on the back when we do achieve personal goals- no matter how big or small they are. Here are a few of my own personal highlights from my year abroad; whenever I’m feeling low or struggling to adjust I try to reflect on the successes that I’ve had already and remind myself that I’ve still got time to grown and mature over the course of the year. Mini victory #1:"Bonjour?" Answering the phone in French This one seems so simple but for the first few weeks in my job in Paris this was the main thing impeding my self-confidence. Despite studying French for almost 10 years I had subconsciously convinced myself that I couldn’t handle telephone calls. My job interviews for my internships were either Skype interviews or phone calls in both French and English and in one case completely in French. I knew my fear was irrational as I’d managed to secure my job via a Skype interview and it was 100% in French- this fear came from self-doubt. For the first few weeks at my job, answering the phone and providing information consisted a large part; I was absolutely terrified to be on my own with the phone. To make matters worse, the landline phone was also connected to my own mobile so it was pretty hard to evade the phone calls. The first few weeks I managed to palm off the phone to my line manager. I’d had a few haphazard attempts at answering the phone, the first attempt was a prank call which wasn’t fun to handle, the second time the whole purpose of the conversation as lost in translation as neither I nor the caller could decipher what we were trying to say. These first attempts left me feeling even more discouraged and heightened my anxiety even more, I would have heart palpitations each time the phone called-, especially if my line manager was nowhere to be found. But then one day I had to tackle fear head on. It was the beginning of August and the office had been very quiet due to everyone taking his or her annual holidays. It was 16:45pm and the work day was almost over, I was just starting to let go of the stress of the day when I heard that familiar beeping noise. I was on the fourth floor, away from my desk with all of my prompts for answering the phone such as ‘Bonjour Madamoiselle comment vous aidez aujourdh’ui’ and ‘Malheursement il n’est pas ici en ce moment…’. I had to tackle this one on my own. I remember feeling the recurring sickening feeling of dreading when accepting the call. I don’t know what happened to me in that moment- it was like a switch had been flipped within me. I spoke clearly and with confidence. For the first time I actually understood everything that they were saying, I knew all of the information by heart and could roll off facts and figures without hesitation. When I had finished the phone call I must admit I did have a little happy dance on the terrace! I had tackled my first mental block- for weeks and weeks I had been passively absorbing of the information, attentively listening to my supervisor answer the phone, taking notes and even practising simulations with my manager. In the end, all I needed was to be thrown into a situation where I had to answer the phone. I realised that it was all mind over matter. The only person stopping me actually was me. I still find it funny that towards the end of my job I actually liked having conversations in French on the phone. To a native level French person, this would be no feat at all, its part of everyday life; but for me that was the first of many personal victories and I felt proud of myself knowing that I’d conquering something which I had made such a big deal. Mini victory #2: Do(n’t) talk to strangers: Making friends in the train station When I was a child my mum always reiterated two things to me: 1. Don’t speak to strangers, no matter how nice looking they are. 2. Treat people how you would like to be treated. In my first few weeks in Paris I came across a situation in which these two seemingly good pieces of advice appeared to contradict themselves. Parisians are notorious for being fast-paced, and perhaps slightly unfriendly (something which I have found to take with a pinch of salt). In the case of tourists, if you appear to be lost, out of place or confused there’s a very slim chance that a Parisian will come to your aid. I remember being in Bercy metro station, after having brunch with my friend Maz. I had only been in Paris for four days at this point but I had become quite familiar with the metro station. I hadn’t started my job yet as we were ‘faire le pont’ which basically means taking a long weekend/ extra days off following a bank holiday, which in this case was due to Bastille day and the victory of the World Cup (Allez les Bleus!). I had a free day and was hoping to explore a little bit more of the city. As I was walking through the metro station I saw I huge backpack and small girl carrying it, appearing quite flustered and confused at the barriers. Hoards of Parisians were passing by simply ignoring her. I felt really bad for her, I would hate if that was me in her situation, so I sidled up to help her, remembering my mum's words of wisdom: ‘treat people like you would like t be treated’. She couldn’t understand how to use her paper ticket and I felt uneasy walking past her, leaving her to struggle. I told her that she needed to insert it rather than tap it. She seemed really grateful for my help. I felt happy too, I had done my good deed for the day and was prepared to kind of carry on with my day. But instead she seemed to trail behind me to the metro stop and I wondered if she was lost. I broke my mothers first rule- I asked her name and what she was doing in Paris- it was evident from the large mass of luggage on her shoulders that she was backpacking but I was surprised to find that she was from Las Vegas and was solo travelling Europe over the summer, couch-surfing and figuring it out along the way. I was in awe of her courage but also slightly concerned that she had no plans. Then I did something out of the ordinary. She showed me a list of places that she wanted to see, Tour Eiffel, Sacré Cœur, Le Moulin Rouge, Arc de Triomphe. She then told me that she didn’t speak a word of the language and wondered if I could help her get by and be of some company. My head was saying ‘No stick to your plan. You’re not very good with new people and you’re no Paris expert’. My head started to fill with all of the hypothetical situation that could happen, that we could be targeted and robbed, that she might not be who she says she is- totally exaggerated and over the top thoughts permeated my mind. But for some reason I said ‘Sure why not’ and that was probably one of my favourite days in Paris. We travelled all across Paris and I credit that day as to why I have such a comprehensive knowledge of the metro. system. We laughed when we got ourselves into funny situations such as wandering onto the wrong platform, walking around aimlessly in circles. Despite all of this we got to know more about one another and we even decided to meet up the next day for a picnic in the park. That day I let go of my anxieties and decided that sometimes its good to be a little reckless. That being said, I kept my wits about me and stayed safe but I made a new friend that day and proved to myself that saying yes to something you normally wouldn’t do can cultivate a new friendship or experience. Mini victory #3: Life doesn’t come with subtitles: immersion and understanding French cinema So throughout my time in Paris I had created a personal bucket list of things to do. Out of the 37 things I think I did about 28-29. I purposefully left some things as a way to ensure that I go back. One thing that I knew I had to do before I left was head to the cinema and watch a film in French without subtitles. Earlier in the summer I went to an open-air cinema screening with my friend Jake and we watched a Pedro Almodovar film ‘Atame!’ (Tie me up, Tie me down) with French subtitles. This helped reassert my confidence in my Frenhc reading level as I heavily relied on the subtitles. However we also saw a short film –which was somewhat questionable without subtitles before the main Almodovar one. I struggled to understand the plot- but again it was quite a strange film concerning gender, sexuality, intersex characters all based in an 18thcentury boarding house. (Yeah I didn’t really get it either). I didn’t like not being able to follow the storyline therefore I set myself the goal of watching a film in VO (version originale) without subtitles. Over the course of the summer I exclusively read French books and watched a plethora of French TV shows and films- but always with French subtitles as a safety net. I had seen a new Vanessa Paradis film advertised called ‘Photo de famille’ and convinced my friend Jake to come along. At the start of the film I doubted my abilities- the actors spoke very quickly and the father figure had an extremely gruff voice and barely articulated his words. I thought that I’d be in for a long ride but surprising it got easier to understand as the film progressed. I realised that I didn’t have to concentrate as much and even if I didn’t understand everything word for word I understood the general gist of what the characters were saying. After the film I had some kind of epiphany; everyday that I’d been living in Paris I had been speaking French daily, having to listen and converse via the telephone, emails and in person. Life doesn’t come with subtitles. I had managed to get by in the real word so why would this film be any different. If anything, watching a French film without subtitles is easier than speaking and interacting in real life, you have to listen and process As a spectator you aren’t expected to come up with a retort or an opinion on what has been said. By watching that film and understand 99% of it, I felt that one of my goals on my bucket list had been achieved; not just to watch a film in French and understand it, but to be confident in myself that I understand everyday situations in French. Mini victory #4: The tale of the Spanish photobooth My most recent mini victory happened here in Valencia. I haven’t settled as well as I’d hoped here but I do have to remember that it has only been 2 weeks and I’m here for 8 months. I started to learn Spanish at university as part of an ab initio intense course and instantly fell in love with it. I love the sound of the language and of course the culture; the food, the music, the landscape of Spain, the different types of dances, the architecture- so many things. That is why it is so frustrating for me when I struggle to articulate myself in the language. I do remind myself daily that I have only been studying for just over 2 years and my level of Spanish incomparable to my level of French. Nonetheless I still become frustrated when I scramble to find words. I’ve been documenting my struggles with the Spanish bureaucratic system and I’m slowly navigating my way through getting all of the required documents. On Monday I embarked on getting my travel and young person card. I realised that I didn't have any passport photos and needed to have some printed. One thing that I’ve noticed about Valencia that is different to Paris is that the Spanish aren’t as eager to practise English with you; rather they find it quite frustrating if you say you don’t speak Spanish or you only speak a little. Working in a school has shown me the drastic differences between the teaching of modern languages in the UK and Spain. I understand why so few Spaniards speak English comprehensively, yet this also poses an issue for me when dealing with bureaucracy. Subconsciously I have been using my Spanish more than I have realised; so far in my short two weeks I have liaised with ambulance staff, police officers (don't ask) and head teachers just to name a few. However my personal victory came in the form of an older Spanish woman who I encountered at the photo booth on Monday. She had been sat in there for a while, her companion was waiting outside for her but they seemed quite confused. Jacob, my housemate, and I had gone to get change and returned they still seemed uncertain about what to do. She exited the photo booth, empty handed, seeming somewhat embarrassed and she asked me for help- in Spanish. Oh boy. How was I going to explain how to work this photo booth to her- especially in the weakest of my three languages? In that moment my newly acquired teaching skills came in handy as I managed to use gestures and basic Spanish to guide her through the process. I was coming up with words that I didn’t even know I had in my vocabulary. After her photos had finally developed she seemed extremely grateful and in that moment I felt so happy- the most happy I have been since I arrived. It felt nice helping someone else, especially in another language. This experience enabled me to realise that sometimes I am too critical of myself- I’m not terrible at Spanish, I’m just in a transition period from being fully immersed in French culture, to having a week at home in Manchester and now being thrown in the deep end in inner city Spain. Each of these four experiences have taught me that I’m still learning to be kind to myself but more importantly I am learning to give myself praise for the little things. Sometimes you need to be your biggest cheerleader and say ‘Hell yeah I’m proud of me’. Moving to a new country, uprooting form what is ‘normal’ for you is definitely challenging- especially if you don’t have established links in the new town or city. Of course I’ve had low moments, and days where I have felt frustrated with my situation and myself but I’m learning to take the good with the bad. Self-appreciation is so important and it is in no way ‘showing off’ or conceited to be proud of yourself and your achievements. I know that I’ve still got a long way to go but I’m also learning to embrace all the new opportunities, the highs and lows, good and bad, swings and roundabouts.

What is World Mental Health Day? Today is World Mental Health Day. When I woke up this morning I had no intention of writing a blogpost, let alone about a topic quite as personal as mental health. However, after seeing the positive and honest messages that people have been sharing on their social media accounts throughout the day I felt inclined to write and put down my inner thoughts. **Disclaimer** I’m not trying to jump on a bandwagon of any kind. I have been struggling with my mental health for a while now, it's worsened since I’ve come to Spain and today seemed to be the push that I needed to talk about it head-on. I’ve been having conflicting emotions about whether to post this or not, this is by no means a cry for help but rather a candid, stripped-back account of how my year abroad is going. I’ve found that when I tell people ‘Oh I study Modern Languages and I’m on my year abroad’ their first response is to say ‘Wow that’s amazing- it’ll be the best time of your life’. But I want to talk about the times that are often ignored, the side that people don’t talk about; the difficulties of moving abroad, leaving your friends and family behind and starting a new job/ university course. When you think about it like that, it sounds so overwhelming. Now I don’t want this post to sound like I’m complaining at all or ungrateful for the opportunities that I have been given- I am super aware that I’m in a privileged position to even have the option to work abroad for a year. Nonetheless, I want to stress that for those of us who are struggling, our worries and concerns are legitimate and there is no shame in saying ‘Hey I don’t have my sh*t together and I’m not okay but you know what? That too is okay. For the most part, I have had a fantastic year abroad so far. I started quite early in July and began working for a co-working company in Paris as an office manager. I landed on my feet finding the job, however, the build-up to my year abroad was stressful. No one tells you how difficult it can be to find work placements/ internships- particularly in a field that you are genuinely interested in. You find yourself competing for positions with native speakers sometimes or other students. I was searching for my summer placement in Paris for a good 4-5 months before I found something. Even then, after having secured my placement, I didn’t know what to expect but I was so happy that the search was over. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that in the months leading up to my year abroad I was extremely anxious, I was sleep-deprived because I was panicking about not finding a placement, I hadn’t yet found out where I was for my British Council placement- and me, being someone who loves to be organised and in control - the latter was exacerbating my anxiety even further. I must admit that a lot of my anxiety was self-inflicted but I felt as though I couldn’t put my mind to rest. My parents were extremely supportive, as were my friends. I hated that time as my mood swings were heightened, I was feeling a flurry of emotions all the time; I didn’t know what mood I would be in when I woke up that day. I think I’m pretty good at hiding my emotions- my mum would say otherwise but that’s because she’s my mum- but during these rocky few months, I found that the only way I could feel like I had my sh*t together was by going to the gym, taking on extra shifts at work- anything to distract myself from how I was feeling. I admit that it worked for a while but it does catch up with you in the end and I found that I had to talk to someone. My dad- who is genuinely my rock and the nicest man you will ever meet- was there for me so much. He listened to me crying throughout my two-hour phone calls, even when I was going around in circles, devising terrible hypothetical situations and overthinking every situation. He made me feel like my worries about my year abroad – although it hadn’t started yet- were legitimate and I wasn’t being stupid for feeling the way I was. He gave me the clarity to put things into perspective yet he also didn’t brush off my worries. So thanks Dad (and Mum too, you’ve also been fab) for being there to help guide me. When the time finally came to leave for Paris I was a bag of nerves. I knew two people there beforehand, I had nowhere to live and I hadn’t practised French for months. Thinking about it now in hindsight, moving away was such a scary thing to do, but I tried to rationalise with myself, knowing that I was only going to be working for the summer and if it was that bad I could come home. That summer turned out to be one the best I’ve ever had. I managed to put myself out there- something which I thought was impossible for me. I was extremely lucky because I found a group of friends from Durham/Oxford/Edinburgh Universities who were also doing their year abroad. I had a solid group of friends- something which I haven’t had properly in a long time and I felt comfortable around them. Even though I was working 35 hours per week I would still push myself to go out into Paris with my friends or on my own and grab every opportunity with both hands. That included randomly deciding to take a Cuban salsa class, walking around a museum on your own, heading to a language exchange or even starting a blog. Things were going great and I convinced myself that things wouldn’t change- that I’d be this happy for the whole year abroad. I hadn’t felt lonely or isolated, I missed my family but I wasn’t homesick and I’d fallen in love with the city. The thing that changed was finishing my first part of the year abroad. It was like I was high on life all summer and now I was on a comedown. I was leaving all of my friends in a city that I loved and I had to start over again. I had never felt so comfortable so quickly before. For me, Paris was my happy place. I had given myself one week at home to kind of acclimatise and get back into the swing of things- which in hindsight wasn’t a good idea. I think if I could pinpoint where things starting to decline I would say it was here. For me, being at home felt kind of alien to me. I know it sounds strange since I was only away for two and a half months but when you fully immerse yourself into a new culture and you’re starting to settle, heading back home feels kind of disorientating. I felt like I was experiencing a reverse culture shock. The bustling streets of Manchester and Market Street and the trams are different from the busyness of the 1st and 2nd arrondissements in Paris and the metro system. I started to pine for Paris and my friends, even though I knew that in a week I would be off to sunny Spain. I had spent so much time enjoying myself in Paris that I had neglected my Spanish, I had left all of my paperwork until the last minute- which is simply not like me and I was for some reason feeling anxious to leave home again. At the time of publication, I’ll have been in Spain for two weeks and I can already tell you that my mental health has declined. In all honesty, it’s the little things that seem so big to me and I don’t feel like myself. I often ask myself ‘Why do I feel like this?’ 1. I live in a fantastic apartment with the most amazing housemates, which we found quite easily. 2. We all get on well and there are so many young and cool people to meet, as it’s a big city with a lot of Erasmus students. 3. Valencia is beautiful; the culture, the architecture and the food are phenomenal. It doesn’t feel like a real place sometimes because it’s so nice. 4. I like the school that I’m working in and feel like by the end of the year I’ll have made a difference to some of these students’ experiences of English. At first glance, everything seems fine. On my social media, it seems like I’m having a great time too. If you were judging from my Instagram it looks like I’m out every other night drinking wine or sangria or on the beach all of the time. That is not the case- and that’s a prime example of why social media can be so misleading. We only show our highlights. Of course, I wouldn’t post a picture of me curled up in bed feeling like cr*p as it doesn’t fit in with the ‘shiny, perfect life’ that everyone seems to be portraying on social media platforms. But I feel like I have to be honest with you guys and to myself. At this moment in time, my year abroad isn’t going perfectly. And that is okay. I have days, like today, where I feel low. 1. My confidence in speaking Spanish is nil and void, I feel like people laugh at me when I try and I feel so embarrassed every time I have to speak it in case I make mistakes. I doubt myself at every opportunity even though I know that I’m being ridiculously hard on myself. 2. No one tells you how much bureaucracy there is when moving abroad: setting up a bank account, house viewings, insurance, registering as a foreign worker. Every time I think I’m on top of things I find out that I still have a million and one more things to do which makes me even more anxious and panicky in case I miss important deadlines or straight up forget to do something. 3. I don’t feel settled or fully at ease here. Even though it’s a student city and so vibrant I still feel out of place and like a tourist. I know that has only been two weeks and I know deep down that it will get better, I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb and am on edge a lot of the time 4. I miss my friends in Durham and Manchester. Although I’d rather be here than writing a dissertation FOMO is real and social media intensifies this. 5. Every time I try and get organised I’m always waiting on one thing or another or I get knocked back- for example, I tried to set up a bank account yesterday and the lady who worked there was so rude she made me feel so small and idiotic for asking for help. Little situations like these have a greater impact on my mental health than I imagined. 6. I feel tired and drained all of the time and have little to no motivation to do things I like i.e. writing my blog because I feel so discouraged- hence the big gaps between posts. Despite all of these things, despite everything, I still think it's important to say ‘Yes I’m doing my year abroad and yes it's supposed to be one of the best years of your life. But if it isn’t at this moment in time, that is okay. I have a quote on my wall (yes I’m one of those girls) and I see it every day before I leave for work. It says ‘Be kind to yourself… you’re doing the best that you can’. I think everyone should take on that bit of advice. Do be kind to yourself. Speak up. Mental Health should not be a taboo. Tell someone when you’re not feeling like yourself. It is okay not to be okay. It may last for an hour, a day, or even months, but your mental health is so important. I was embarrassed to bring it up with one of my housemates, as we’re still getting to know one another but I built up the courage to tell him ‘Look I’m not having a great day, I’m struggling a little’. Even just saying the words aloud made me feel a bit better. I’m not an expert at all and you don’t have to take everything I say as gospel, but as someone who has been dealing with fluctuating mental health for a few years now, I can honestly say talking to someone, whether that be a counsellor, a friend, a teacher or a family member does help. We shouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to say ‘I’m not okay’. We are not perfect, we’re not machines. We’re complicated, multifaceted beings who experience a range of moods and feelings- it is normal and more common than you think to have these thoughts and feelings. Writing this blog post today is both for myself, as a cathartic exercise but also for anyone else who is on their year abroad, or who will be starting their year abroad. Yes, it is a great experience, yes there are so many opportunities and yes it may be the best time of your life but we need to remember to put things into perspective. The good goes hand in hand with the bad and nobody is perfect. I want to keep it real with people when I say I’ve been on the verge of tears so many times this week, I’ve felt alone even when I’m with other people. I’ve doubted my abilities and told myself I can’t do this. But it will get better. I know that this will pass. These feelings are not permanent, even though it may seem like they’re sticking around for a while. Your mental health is just as important as your physical health and don’t ever feel like you can’t speak up or that your feelings aren’t valid. A few links to some resources and sites: UK Based: https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk https://www.mind.org.uk

As most of you know I’ve had the fortune of working in Paris this summer as an Office Manager at a start up company. I’ve been adjusting to the fast paced 9-5 work-hard-play hard millennial lifestyle, however what everyone neglected to tell me was that Parisian summers are extremely quiet. Cafés, bars and restaurants all close for weeks on end as everyone takes their annual holidays; which can be up to four weeks at a time! This usually animated city transforms itself into a ghost town in certain arrondissements, with empty streets and shops that appear abandoned. Nonetheless Paris retains its seductive and romantic charm even in the quietest of periods. I’ve experienced two public holidays since I’ve been here: Bastille Day (14thJuly) and August 15th. Bastille day is a flurry of excitement and animation; most museums are open and are free for the public and it is a day of national pride, celebrating the beginnings of the Republic state ending with a large fireworks display. This year was even more chaotic as it coincided with the World cup weekend! However August 15th is more of a subdued affair. In the U.K we don’t tend to celebrate this holiday as it has a Catholic origin, a recognition of the Assumption of Mary. Despite France retaining firm stance on secularity, many companies observe this holiday (perhaps as an excuse to have a day off). My office was no exception. This year it fell on a Wednesday - which by the way, a mid week bank holiday totally throw you off kilter- and I desperately searched for something to do on my unexpected day off. As I mentioned earlier most shops are closed on this day- it is like a Sabbath. But I was highly aware of how little time I had left in Paris and wanted to explore something new. After trawling through numerous tourist pages, something which repeatedly came up on my explore page was the Père Lachaise cemetery. Now I know what you’re thinking- why on earth would you want to visit a cemetery on your day off? I’m not usually drawn to the macabre and maudlin- in fact for a long time I avoided cemeteries and funerals due to a crippling anxiety surrounding the concept of death. This is something which I’ve endured since my early teen years, yet I’m slowly coming to terms with it because, well, you have to as its inevitable and perhaps the only certain thing in life- but I’m rambling now. I figured ‘Hey why not, everything else is closed’ and this trip surprised me in a multitude of ways, and created another uncertainty in my mind and a new bout of questions. This post is somewhat different to my others, I don’t want it to be a ‘what I did on my trip to the cemetery’ type post- if those do exist. This day out to Père Lachaise forced me to start thinking about moral questions surrounding privacy, death, grief and respect. Walking into the cemetery I had a single mind-set, “Let's see what all of the fuss is about”, however when I left I felt perplexed, overwhelmed but mainly enlightened. So most of you may be wondering why is this cemetery so famous? It’s heralded as one of the most famous cemeteries in the world due to the copious amount of celebrities who are buried there such as Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison from the Doors and Oscar Wilde to name a few. However, Père Lachaise is not exclusive to the rich and famous, many ‘ordinary’ Parisians and expats are also laid to rest there. In fact there are quite a few strict rules and regulations regarding being buried in any Parisian cemetery. For example, you can only be buried in a Parisian cemetery if you lived in Paris for a period of time or you died in the capital. Père Lachaise itself is oversubscribed, due to the lack of plots, and it is estimated that there are around 1 million people buried there at present. There is in fact a waiting list to be buried there. This is a common problem in France, I was speaking to a friend who is in her twenties from Bordeaux who mentioned nonchalantly that her burial arrangements have been organised since she was a child. It is quite common for families to buy a large plot or a crypt and to be laid to rest together. I asked her if she thought this was strange and she said “Not really as its nice to have some peace of mind. Otherwise I wouldn’t be buried with my family”. As much as I am all for planning and organisation, the thought of finalising where I’ll be buried induced a high level of discomfort within me. My trip to the cemetery stirred up a mélange of unexpected emotions within me. I didn’t really have any expectations at the start, I mean how exciting can a cemetery be? But it was bright and warm day as we were still revelling in the Parisian heat wave. The concept of heading to visit a cemetery alone in the U.K would be seen as quite strange occurrence however I soon realised that this was more common than I imagined and I saw young couples, parents with children and large groups of American tourists descend upon the cemetery. How weird could this actually be? There were plenty of tourists and I wasn’t seen as some perverse loner who loved hanging around tombs and crypts. There was this shared and accepted view that visiting this cemetery for entertainment purposes was normal. The first thing I want to concentrate on is the blurred line between public and private property. My conflicted feelings stem from the fact that I’m not sure whether I am in agreement in capitalising on the dead. A lot of ethical issued arose throughout the day, firstly provoked by the welcome sign that I saw at the entrance gates. Cemetery workers were handing out maps of the cemetery - which I didn’t have an issue with as it is huge and you can very easily become lost – there’s around forty-two hectares of ground. However what did disturb me was the large sign listing all of the famous people that were buried here and how to find their tombs. It struck me instantly that I’d unintentionally signed up to a celebrity sight seeing tour- but for dead people. It was like being on an open bus tour in L.A which people sign up to see celebrity homes in Beverly Hills, however we were in a graveyard in Eastern Paris. Was I enabling the exploitation of these dead people just by visiting the cemetery? In a way I believed that I was, even though the cemetery is free and access is open to all, it is still publicised as a tourist attraction. Sites such as trip advisor and the culture trip were promoting this ‘must see’ monument promoting it with the same vigour as the Louvre and Notre Dame. The cemetery was established in 1804, evidently during that time people who were buried there had no idea that the cemetery would become the epicentre of dead celebrity hunting and would become a staple on the Paris tourist circuit. Another thing which I also felt personally conflicted about was taking photographs, and the relationship between social media and respect. Even now I’m still uncertain as to where I stand on this issue. Those of you who follow me on social media- particularly Instagram and Snapchat will know that I have been even more active during my stay in Paris, frequently posting and updating my stories. For me at the start of the day I had no qualms about posting photos of the graves and architecture of the cemetery. For one it is architecturally appealing, due to the Haussmanian style of the graves and the gothic elements of the crypts. However it did make me think- is this disrespectful? I did a little bit of research and found that although graves are technically private property, photography is generally accepted at Père Lachaise. I had to ask myself why was I taking photos, was it to prove a point that I’d been at one of "the most visited cemeteries in the world" or was it because I actually appreciated the architecture and scenery of the cemetery? In all honesty it was a little bit of both and I still feel uneasy that I did take photographs. Speaking to multiple Parisians about this, people’s opinions on the matter differed. A female friend who has family members buried at Père Lachaise recalled being at a family members funeral there and how she felt totally disrespected when a group of tourists began pointing and taking photographs of the burial ceremony as though it were some kind of spectacle. In this instance I do believe the boundaries of respect were definitely crossed. People do need to remember that it is still a functioning cemetery, people of all ages, races, sexes and social classes are buried there and one should treat it like any other place of rest. On the other hand I had people say that my photography was not disrespectful as I wasn’t going to use the photos to exploit the graves and that I didn’t mean any disrespect to the people buried there. I did think in the moment I did get overwhelmed and perhaps a little over excited. It is very easy to fall into the trap of ‘treasure hunting’ and forget that it is a real cemetery. In a way I had to put myself in that perspective- if I were buried there would I want people to take photos of my grave, famous or not? Again, I’m still conflicted by it all, I suppose it wouldn’t really matter because I would be dead and could do nothing about it so in a way there’s no harm in it. Nonetheless I did witness people standing on graves and monuments in order to get the ‘perfect selfie’ which I found totally degrading to the dead and utterly disrespectful. In a way its all circumstantial: if you’re taking photos for a project, like me and my blog or for a essay or article about the cemetery then perhaps it is more acceptable yet at the same time by taking selfies of yourself or balancing in gravestones for the gram is considered as an act of disrespect. On the topic of respect I would also like to draw attention to idolatry and the relation between respectful admiration and infatuation and vandalism. I saw that the graves of Chopin, Proust and Delacroix which were all adorned with bouquets of flowers and notes of well wishes from enthusiastic fans. To me, I thought that this was simultaneously a thoughtful yet perhaps intrusive gesture. Is it possible to truly mourn the death of someone you never met? Well of course it is, we all in some way admire celebrities, artists, creatives in some way or another. Even though we may never meet them in real life we still feel connected to them via their work and now in the digital age we feel even closer to them due to the influence of social media. It's even possible, if not rare to be able to "slide into the DM’s" of your favourite artists on Instagram or Twitter nowadays. However mourning those who died centuries ago, who you will never have and never will meet them in person, still baffles me to this day. This modern day martyrdom is exacerbated by the accessibility of this cemetery. Nothing is stopping people from visiting their graves, leaving behind mementos. You could spend all day sat alongside your favourite, poet, singer composer or artist at Père Lachaise. To me this is all innocent and harmless and in a way it cultivates a culture of appreciating the dead and acknowledging their contributions, yet for others I do see how this could be seen as intrusive and inappropriate behaviour as it expounds the idea that you can force an intimacy between yourself and your deceased idols. On the flip side one thing that I found distasteful was something that I had seen at Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde’s graves. Morrison’s grave is somewhat hidden away amongst a few others. You could easily walk past it and miss it- but there’s always a queue of tourists lined up waiting to pay their respects. There was even a security guard present who fervently watched us clamber around the graveside. There is a barrier that prevents people from approaching the grave. There have been numerous attempts of people who tried to write notes or leave gifts next to it so that it became an eyesore and heavily cluttered. I too felt like I contributed to the chaos as I stood in line waiting to steal a view of the grave. It was like being behind the barriers at a concert, people were fidgeting and pushing, all to see the gravestone of someone we don’t know personally. The grave of Oscar Wilde was damaged even more. I was eager to see it as I have always been an admirer of his works having studied them throughout high - school and university as well as having a personal interest in his own story of persecution. Wilde is viewed as emblematic of gay rights, someone who was unapologetically, himself, an impassioned critic of a society which both enthralled and disgusted him. His works to this day are continually referenced and appreciated globally. For me it was a no brainer- I had to see the grave. It is just as ostentatious and over the top as he was said to be in life; his ornate grave is unmissable as it is sculpted into the shape of an angel with wings is lined with a glass barrier- a final attempt to stop people from writing on the tomb. Even the glass barrier is stained with rows of lipstick marks and sharpie notes declaring ‘Gay Pride’ and ‘RIP’. Witnessing the stark differences between the treatment of Proust’s, and Wilde’s gravesides made me think about the varying differences between what people regard as paying one’s respects. What one person may view as harmless admiration another views it as defacement of property. It appears that the idea of respecting property is not universally regarded. I had to think of the families of the dead, it is hard to empathise with fans of the deceased when they are defacing their graves. In a way I assumed that it was down to people writing in a fervour of emotion - sometimes when we ‘meet’ our idols we become overwhelmed and display behaviour which would not be tolerated in other circumstances- I chalked it down to being overwhelmed and star struck but I still couldn’t excuse the level of disrespect to the grave. Conversely, I do believe that Père Lachaise Cemetery can also be used as a vehicle of education and is perhaps a place of comfort for many. Although so far in this post I seemed to have displayed a rather disparaging opinion regarding Père Lachaise cemetery I don’t believe that it is completely bad. Walking amongst the graves I did have a few solipsistic moments regarding death, the afterlife and memory. I haven’t always been terrified of death, as a young child I was quite comfortable with the idea of ghosts and the afterlife- however this changed when I was around the eight years old when two of my friends passed away in childhood and also due to the fact that in recent years death was acknowledged amongst my parents and I as a pending action in life due to that the fact that I have ageing grandparents. For as long as I can remember I have always avoided going to funerals, talking about death- even the thought of death as a child brought on an extended period of anxiety and insomnia. I even limit visiting my own grandfather's grave to once or twice a year maximum. The thought of visiting a cemetery as a pastime would never have occurred to me growing up. However being at Père Lachaise filled me with some kind of comfort, in a way it made me realise that cemeteries are more for loved ones and family members to be remember and ‘immortalise’ their loved ones. It is the idea of memory and being remembered which I found fascinating. The majority of tombs there are of regular people. It was reassuring in a way to see other people find curiosity in their graves, seeing the images of the people buried there. I’m not quite sure why but in a way I feel like I needed to visit the cemetery, to kind of put my mind at rest about the concept of death and afterlife, ever person in that graveyard has a legacy- just by being there. Being at Père Lachaise helped me come to terms with a few of my own anxieties about death, something that I have always suppressed and avoided. Moreover during my trip to the cemetery my interest in certain figures was definitely piqued. I had made a list earlier on the day about the graves I really wanted to see one of them was Isadora Duncan. Her body isn’t buried there but her ashes are interred there. Duncan's name often comes up in pop culture, and as a dancer I had heard a lot about her and her contributions to contemporary and modern dance, yet I wanted to find out a little more about her. The circumstances of her death are tragic, a freak accident that cut short her flourishing career. This made me think, that out of the literal million people who are buried there each one of them has their own individual story most of which will remain untold. Leaving the cemetery I felt as sense of light-headedness. I was overwhelmed and inspired. I thought I might feel a little low and uncomfortable but not at all. In a way it gave me an appreciation of life, without sounding overdramatic. I thought I had already come to terms with the inevitability of death yet being here at Père Lachaise made me realise that I actually hadn’t and that it is a process. I won’t be making a habit of visiting cemeteries frequently but I also conquered a fear that I didn’t even know I had. To conclude, my opinion of Père Lachaise cemetery is more complex than I thought it was. I’m still conflicted about it and I understand that it can’t be seen solely from a black and white perspective such as ‘are we capitalising on the dead yes or no?’ or is it fair to make it a tourist attraction? There are many shades of grey in between. I’ve asked myself if I think that the cemetery exploits the deaths of famous people and to a certain degree yes I do. Its exclusivity and celebrated inhabitants exorcises it. The 20 year + waiting list, the sale of unofficial maps, selfie taking tourists and the guided tours made me initially regard it as morbid Disneyland for the dead. Nevertheless, after having witnessed it myself I now know that it must be regarded as both a business and also as something more humane. Fundamentally it is a place of rest and the people buried there -regardless of their professions in life- still require a level of respect. I’m not going to champion it and tell everyone to go and visit it, however if it is something that interests you I can guarantee that you’ll come out of it with more questions than answers- something which isn’t always a bad thing. Let me know what you think about unconventional tourist attractions like this? Do you think that we should encourage and promote them or should we leave the dead to rest in peace?

Anyone who knows me really well will tell you that one of my favourite films of all time is "Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain" or simply "Amélie". It was one of the first French films that I ever watched and I loved the quirky, whimsical and offbeat nature of the plot and the interwoven magical realistic elements. "Amélie" was one of the main reasons that I wanted to pursue learning the French language and for some reason I’ve always identified with the titular character. As a child I too, like Amélie, had imaginary friends, I learned to entertain myself and also spent half of my time residing in a make-believe world. My Parisian summer would not be complete without following in Amélie’s footsteps- at least for a day- and to see how many similarities I actually share with a character I had idolised for so long. So I set off one sunny Saturday morning and ventured into Montmartre and tried to replicate a day in the life of Amélie Poulain. I wanted to make the day a fusion of retracing Amélie’s steps as well as wandering around the neighbourhood of Montmartre. I was equipped with a list of must see film locations but also an open mind- ready to divert from the beaten track. The first stop of the day was actually something that wasn’t featured in the film; I stumbled upon lots of couples congregated together outside a beautiful square. In Paris this isn’t an uncommon sight- after all it is the city of love and lights. I quickly realised that I was at ‘Le mur de je t’aime’. Its pretty self explanatory- it’s a wall with the words ‘I love you’ in numerous languages: English, French, Cantonese, Russian. You can name any language and you’re sure to find it there. Between the couples I managed to get a few photos of the wall as well as meander around the square. I imagine that during the early morning or late evening- perhaps during sunset- this square would be a perfect location for a date even to stroll through on your own. Nevertheless it’s a truly romantic spot, perfectly encapsulating the essence of the city of love. I also came across my second stop of the day by accident. I was walking along Rue la Vieuxville and was distracted by some street art. One of the things I love the most about Paris is the graffiti and urban art. Some people think that its an eye sore or even vandalism- particularly when it is juxtaposed with older Haussmannian style architecture but I see it more as actual art and reflective of society. to me, street art reflects Paris as it is now-a modern city which is a hybrid of the urban and traditional as well constantly being in flux. As I was wandering through some passages and back streets I found a second more intimate garden. It was like something from a postcard. Within this hidden courtyard there were only about four people who were mainly reading or eating baguettes- a standard Parisian pastime. It turns out that it wasn’t that exclusive- it was ‘Jardin des Abbesseses’ and its pretty well known amongst locals too. It’s a lovely place to sit and read, eat a viennoiserie or simply just sit and reflect, which is what I did. As it began to fill up I decided to continue on my journey. Lunchtime was approaching I decided to visit the famous café which Amélie works at in the film, ‘Les Café de 2 Moulins’ (The two windmills). It looks as though its been frozen in time- it has a chic 1950s feel yet as soon as I stepped through the door I felt like I was back in 1997 and in the film. The décor and layout is pretty much the same as the film- except the tobacconist section no longer exists. I sat in the spot where Joseph always sits and watches Gina and Georgette (if you know you know) and had perhaps some of the best yet overpriced crêpes in Paris and a cappuccino. I love how the café is still fully functional- they even have a dish in homage to the film called ‘le gouter d’Amélie’ which is a crème brûlée and café crème. Of course the café is a tourist trap and quite pricey but its worth it and definitely a must see if you’re a fan of the film. The next stop that I wanted to see was the Sacré Cœur- I had previously visited it in my first week of being here with my friend Berlynn but it was only fitting that I revisited it in homage to the scene in which Amélie returns Nino’s photo album (again if you know you know). No matter what time you go to the Sacré Cœur two things are always certain: it will be full of other tourists and they’ll always be scammers trying to get you to sign a fake petition- don’t sign it! Once you’ve managed to battle your way through the crowds and dodge the pickpockets you’ll see one of the most amazing views- contestable perhaps with that of Notre Dame. Although you don’t get a panoramic view like Notre Dame it still is gorgeous and you can even take the funicular if you want to avoid the stairs. My final stop of the day wasn’t actually in Montmartre, which is in the 18th arrondissement; I ended up in the 10th. I wanted to see the Canal St Martin. There is a lovely scene in the film in which Amélie explains her ‘petits plaisirs’ in life such as plunging her hand in a sack of grains (as weird as that sounds), tapping and cracking the crust of a crème brûlée and of course skipping stones at the Canal Saint Martin. I couldn’t find a bag of grains to plunge my hand in and I’m not the biggest fan of crème brûlée so I decided to visit the Canal instead. It’s a very short metro ride from Montmartre and the view was beautiful. Of course on a sunny day it was full of tourists- who like my self were enamoured by the view and a few who could actually skip stones. Wandering along the banks of the Canal I couldn’t help thinking that following a trail like this is what makes my experience of Paris different. Its nice to do and see the main tourist attractions such as the Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame and the Louvre- all of which I have done and have enjoyed immensely- but at the same time, that Saturday afternoon was one the best days that I’ve had in Paris because it meant something personal to me rather than following a Lonely Planet guide of a ‘Top tips of things to do in Paris’ As cringe-worthy as this may sound, following in the steps of Amélie Poulain enabled me see other hidden gems of Paris, which I would never have thought to seek out. Solo travelling is one of the things I wanted to say yes to doing more on my year abroad. As a young, single girl in a metropolitan city sometime the fear of being harassed or targeted is daunting and may steer you away from actually doing new things and seeing new places. Even though Montmartre is a stones throw away from my current neighbourhood I felt like I’d accomplished a personal goal of mine. By formulating my own route, I had a thoroughly surprisingly enjoyable day and it made me love the film even more. Although I didn’t see everything I set out to do I discovered even more places of interest in Paris For those of you who haven’t seen the film Amélie I would highly recommend it and if you’re ever in Paris, Montmartre is definitely worth a visit. Film trailer for Amelie.

Paris Travel Tips In my first few weeks of arriving in Paris, I decided to fully immerse myself in Parisian life. What better way to do so than to tick off one of the biggest tourist attractions: Notre Dame. Luckily for me, I have a lovely group of friends who are also working in Paris so we decided to meet up and explore the Cathedral. My friend Lauren used to the app ‘Je file’ (AKA Duck the Line) which enabled us to skip the queue however we still had a mountain of stairs to climb before we even reached the reception desk! When people decide to come to Notre Dame they just take photographs outside or see the beautiful stained glass art and architecture inside the main body of the cathedral. Not us- we wanted to one-up that and we headed up to the rooftops of Notre Dame where we'd heard that you can see one the best views of Paris. Once we’d successfully managed to climb about 1,000,001 stairs we reached the reception desk (even that was situated in an ornate gothic alcove). We reaped the perks of being young and members of the European Union (for now at least) and we were able to get free entry- which is generally the case for a lot of cultural places if you’re under 26, or a student and come from an E.U country. I now understand why Parisians are generally quite skinny- everywhere has millions of stairs for you to climb! You get your daily exercise in that’s for sure. After a few brief pit stops we managed to make it to the first level of Notre Dame Tower. The view was breathtaking. We had a Birdseye view of the whole of Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the Montparnasse- everything. We then went into the Belfry and I truly had a Quasimodo moment. The bells are staggeringly large and there are 10 in total, named: Emmanuel, Marie, Gabriel, Anne Geneviève, Denis, Marcel, Etienne, Benoît-Joseph, Maurice and Jean-Marie but we only managed to get a glimpse of Emmanuel, the tenor bell, which is the first one you see as you enter the belfry. He's also the biggest, weighing at around 13 tonnes! The best was yet to come. Between our huffing and puffing and my friend Jake’s vertigo, we managed to reach the rooftop and get a panoramic view of Paris. The view above the rooftops of Paris is stunning and I recommend that everyone should see it at least once on their trip to Paris. Whether you’re afraid of heights or not, the view truly makes up for it and it's obvious why so many people fall in love with Paris. All jokes aside, visiting Notre Dame was such a great experience. It’s the epicentre of la Ile de la cité and, it's obvious why it is the most visited monument in Paris. Notre Dame retains such a cultural significance in Paris and across the globe; it is immortalised in cinema, art and literature and I would 100% recommend that you visit it if you're ever in la ville lumière. Key information: · Notre Dame is a medieval Cathedral, decorated with ornate gothic designs. The gothic sculptures particularly those of the gargoyles are amazing, especially up close as they’re extremely detailed and still in great condition despite being from the 13th century and surviving damage from the wake of the French Revolution by which many of the statues were beheaded! · Notre Dame is also listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site. Tips · Head to Notre Dame later in the evening. Our slot was around 8:30 pm which was great because we avoided the tourist rush. · Use the app ‘Je File’ to skip the inevitable huge snaking queue. · If you’re under 26 and live in a country which is a member of the European Union bring some I.D. to prove your age- it will save you a small fortune and everything is better when it's free! · Wear flat, comfortable shoes, you’ll be walking a lot and the staircases are extremely narrow too- I’m not exaggerating when I say there are a lot of stairs, I got in my recommended daily intake of exercise! Don't forget to subscribe for more Paris travel tips!

Welcome to my Study Abroad Blog So this is my first blog post on Oui! Sí!Yes! I’ve attempted to blog before but I failed miserably at it so hopefully a second time around will be better. I have to admit, I was a little bit hesitant to start a blog because I know it’s very cliché and a ‘millennial’ thing to do (especially if you are documenting your gap year or year abroad. I honestly wanted to find a creative outlet whilst I was away and to also keep my friends and family up to date. I’m Natasha and I’m a 20-year-old Liberal Arts student at Durham University. As part of my degree, I study English Literature, French and Spanish and I’m currently on my year abroad. I’ve chosen to split my year quite unconventionally by separating it into three parts rather than 2 six-month blocks. I’m currently on part one which is working in France. I’m currently based in Paris for the summer (July-September) working as an office manager for a co-working company. Whilst completing an intense internship I’m squeezing in time to explore Paris with my friends (and occasionally on my own) and make some memories in the short amount of time that I have here. I’ll then be heading off to Valencia, Spain for 8 months to work as an English language assistant in a high school as part of the British Council Language Assistant Program. I’m both terrified and excited about this prospect but I’m trying to keep an open mind; not overthink and embrace all opportunities that come my way. As for the third part of my year abroad, I don’t have any concrete plans at the moment but I’d love to come back to Paris and work again however I’m also interested in taking a language course or working in either Marseille, Bordeaux or Lyon. My main aims for this blog are pretty simple; it’s a way for my friends and family to keep up to date with my year abroad adventures whilst I’m in France and Spain and also as a way to keep myself accountable and to try new things. Hopefully, it can provide insight into what a study abroad placement is about for other language students who are preparing for their own. Without sounding like a cliché, I do want to start saying yes to more things- hence the title of the blog. Moving to a new town or city is a big step- especially when you only know a handful of people there- but pushing yourself out of your comfort zone whilst in said new place is perhaps an even bigger challenge. It’s easy to sit in your room bingeing on Netflix rather than going out and experiencing the city that you’re in (NOTE: this is also fine to do, and sometimes necessary to give yourself a break but don’t let it consume your year abroad). Oui!sí!yes! is my way of making sure I put myself out there and try new things. I’ve already become so much more confident and open-minded and I’ve barely started! Bear with me as I get to grips with this whole blogging thing, they’ll be pictures (maybe videos/ vlog type things), recipes and reviews of touristy/sightseeing things as well as the hidden treasure troves. Whether it's dancing Cuban salsa on the Seine or climbing up to the top of Notre Dame I’m going to try my best to document my experiences and share any tips that I have. So, come along with me as I navigate this crazy year abroad, it’ll be worth it!