Les Pyrénées

Having lived in Scotland for most of my life, It’s shocking how little I’ve taken advantage of its landscape. The highlands and islands are so accessible, being only a short few hours drive away from both Glasgow and Edinburgh, and with convenient train lines and buses, there’s really no excuse. When asked whether I go skiing, hiking, or even just walking in Scotland, I’m embarrassed by my poor response.

Visiting the Pyrénées, then, has inevitably been high on my list of things to do during my time in France. The school holidays gave me the perfect opportunity to finally pack up my rucksack and get outdoors.

Sarah (my au pair friend) and I decided to base ourselves in Lourdes for the short trip. It seemed the obvious choice due to its proximity to the mountains, its array of cheap accommodation options, and its ease of access – being only a two hour drive from Toulouse.

Lourdes itself is a bit of a strange place, if you’re looking for a city break with lots to do after hours, head elsewhere. The entire town is dedicated to the Virgin Mary and attracts shed loads of Catholic pilgrims all year round. The upside of this is the stunning church impossibly built upon a cavernous rock just outside of the centre, the downside is the odd and slightly ironic touristic bent of the town, with flourescent souvenir shops lining every street, and selling anything and everything dedicated to Catholicism.

The Pic du Jer was our first ‘climb’. The mountain is hard to miss as it composes the dramatic landscape surrounding Lourdes. Its terrifying hundred-year-old funicular runs every thirty minutes, and a round trip will set you back only 10 euros. At the top there are a variety of different walking routes that wind around the mountain’s peak. The views are incredible, and allow you to appreciate Lourdes from an aerial perspective, linking the flat and sprawling land to the north, to the mountainous terrain to the south.

The town of Cauterets was the following day’s mountain destination. I was pleasantly surprised by the pretty little ski town, which could not be further removed from the grey and dreary Lourdes. According to my Google findings, this was our best bet for finding walking trails, and its large and welcoming tourist office certainly didn’t disappoint; with an array of activities for every outdoorsy type you could think of. We went along with their advice and headed further south to the Pont d’Espagne.

After the most scenic thirty minute drive known to man, scaling impossibly upwards along a winding mountain road (which must boast the most waterfalls ever recorded per square mile), we reached a vast car park which could cater for thousands of walkers and climbers all year round.

We decided to take a hiking route to Lac de Gaube, a name instantly recognisable to me (thanks again Google) as one of the most beautiful lakes to be found in the Pyrénées. The hike was pleasant and not too tough for a beginner like myself, plus the thought of a blissful picnic involving chocolate at the end of it was enough to keep me going. On our way up we met Annika, a German teaching assistant who we discovered is also living in Toulouse. We ended up driving back together and having yet another picnic that night. Funny how things can span out sometimes – friends in high places anyone?

L’Automne en France

Barcelona by Bus

There are some things you just can’t argue against in life, for example: free food, having a lie in, and that nothing will ever top a cup of tea after a long hard day. Similarly, when someone tells you you can get to Barcelona for five euros, its not a question of if, but when.

The trademark blue and yellow coaches of Megabus have been transplanted onto European soil, complete with their giant ‘£1’ signs, British drivers and UK plug sockets. Destinations include Brussels, Amsterdam and Cologne. The particular route in question runs from London to Barcelona, making stops in Paris and, thankfully, Toulouse.

Myself and two of my fellow au pairs decided to take full advantage, and five hours later we were back in our favourite city. Luckily, Barcelona doesn’t seem to sleep – so arriving half an hour shy of midnight was no obstacle to enjoying the nightlife.

Plaça Reial is an obvious starting point for any first timers. Wedged between Las Ramblas and the Gothic Quarter, its centrality is only one of its merits. Offering both bars and nightclubs alike, there’s something for everyone. But be warned, a scenic square comes with a price, expect to pay anything between 7 and 10 euros for a G&T – which while very large and arguably ‘worth it’ – may be found cheaper elsewhere with a bit of effort. Many Barcelona ‘veterans’ would in fact deter you from this side of Las Ramblas – too many tourist traps, not enough authenticity, but pretty lights and a fountain are enough to sway me any day.

Don’t expect clubs in Barcelona to liven up until well after 2am, giving you plenty of time for some late night tapas and drinks elsewhere. Much of the nightlife is located out of the city centre, but the well connected metro will take you there, and on Saturdays you’ll be able to use it for a full 24hrs – a city with our best interests at heart.

Since we had all been to the city several times before, the pressure was off to rush around and squeeze in all the sights, instead our energy was put into actually enjoying the city itself. A great way to experience it is by bike, you can get a real ‘feel’ for a place going around on two wheels, especially if you’re only there for a short while. Barcelona being the hipster paradise it is, you can’t walk down a street without seeing the slickest road bikes known to man. Yet, personally opining that dutch bikes are underrated in the cool stakes, an affordable rental from Color Bikes in El Raval suited perfectly.

The sheer size of the city and its many distinctive districts means not only are there endless possibilities for your day and night activities, but a whole host of accommodation options. Airbnb offers a fabulous aray of swanky apartments to suit all types of trip, but if privacy isn’t an issue I would certainly recommend snapping up a bed in one of the Be hostels that form a game of join-the-dots on the city map. At below 10 euros a night, you can rest your head and sleep well in the knowledge that you’re receiving excellent value for money.

It goes without saying that the best time to visit Barcelona is NOT in the height of summer, when the city can be bursting at the seams with overcrowding. Either the spring or the autumn are optimum for an altogether more enjoyable visit, and as we discovered, the weather can stay pleasantly mild well into the month of November.

 

 

Fooling the French

If only I were a member of Girls Aloud and could let the funky music do the talking.

It’s essentially six weeks since I arrived in France, and by now I thought I’d be fluent. OK, yes, an exaggeration this may be, but my point remains – ‘I Can’t Speak French’.

It goes without saying that being surrounded, or ‘immersed’ in a language is the best way to learn. It’s a shame then that I am not. My host family are (unfortunately) bilingual, ‘Frenglish’ if you will, so despite their French fluency, their preferred home language is my own. This has had some benefits, mainly in the form of getting to know the family in my first few weeks with them, but ultimately it has stunted my linguistic progression – which is after all an important priority of my time abroad.

I have learned – perhaps as a result of this – that in French speaking situations there are some failsafe ways of sounding more fluent than I actually am, because pretending is better than nothing.

• D’accord
  Just repeat this whenever you think someone is saying something you mildly agree with.

• Ouais
  Like ‘oui’ but cooler.

• Ahhh Oui
  For some reason ‘ahhh’ makes your affirmation that bit more French.

• Alors
  Begin all phrases with this if you want to sound purposeful.

• Merciaurevoir
  The words ‘merci’ and ‘au revoir’ may be blended in this fashion. Extra points to say this when exiting a bus – apparently no matter how full it is, nor how well the driver may actually hear you.

• Je sais pas
  Grammatically incorrect, but it sounds fluent, and that’s half the battle – even when saying you don’t know.

• Shwee
  ‘Je suis’ blended into one (the French love blending their words don’t you know).

There you have it, you’re now practically fluent in French, Girls Aloud, however, need to learn a thing or two.

Carcassonne

When in southwest France, it’s impossible to overlook La Cité de Carcassonne, both because it’s one of the top tourist destinations in the area, and also because it literally is a massive fortress on a hill.

The au pairs assembled and braved a French road trip about an hour south east of Toulouse. With the weather on our side as ever, it was a perfect day to appreciate some fields, listen to terrible French pop music on the radio, and numbify our bums on some car seats.

 

The approach alone is impressive, as the turrets and spires rise above its modern counterpart; Carcassonne. Upon arriving in La Cité(signposted throughout the streets below) we were immediately swallowed into a mass wave of tourists squeezing in amongst the quaint and narrow streets. Obviously we did the typical tourist thing to do – complain about other tourists. Every photograph I took is guaranteed to have been taken simultaneously by about five other people – effectively queuing to do so. The town itself is a bit surreal – almost like a toy town.  Souvenir shops lace the streets, and if there aren’t post cards outside, it’s probably a café equally designed for the city’s daily visitors.

This isn’t to say the Carcassonne experience wasn’t enjoyable. In fact I was happy to discover a sweet shop well stocked with free tasters, sweeping the room without shame and only mildly pretending to consider a purchase. And the church was nice.

 

Top tips for Carcassonne enjoyment:

• Visit at a less busy and stressful time of year to avoid those horrid tourists.

• If the former is unavoidable and you do find yourself in confined space with the bumbag-wearing sort, I recommend a stroll along the outer walls of the city. Panoramic views of the surrounding countryside are stunning. Not to mention that breeze.
• As we discovered, if you want to eat well in La Cité, it will come at a price. And if you want a cheaper option, like a panini, its best to keep expectations low. I would recommend sourcing your refreshments outside of city walls to get more value for your money.
• The larger, more modern city often gets a bad rep in comparison to its walled neighbour, but from what we saw, it’s just as worth a visit and a wander.
• Take everything I say with a pinch of salt – I complain a lot.

Terrible Tourists in Toulouse

If you want to read about the museums of Toulouse it’s best to look away now.

The first Sunday of the month is prime time for museum enthusiasts in Toulouse as most of the major museums (if not all) are free. It follows, then, that my new au pair friends and I decided to spend this ‘free day’ visiting said museums.

Thanks to Facebook, i.e. the holy grail for loners abroad, I’ve conjured up a pretty large group of fellow au pairs to befriend and explore the city with. We’re a varied bunch, German, Danish, American, Spanish and British, and we bring confusion to restaurants and bars throughout the city, as waiters continuously attempt to guess our nationality. We also seem to have one thing in common, we all value sitting down, and eating.

First we visited the beautiful Musée des Augustins and took in some of its impressive Medieval sculpture, Romanesque architecture, and 18th century painting. However, soon our thoughts turned from the art of France, to its cuisine. A lesson I learnt particularly well today: never go to a museum on an empty stomach.

Musée des Augustins

Musée des Augustins

Musée des Augustins

 

Musée des Augustins

 

Once talk of lunch – personally the most anticipated meal of the day – was in the air, we bee-lined for the exit.

Sundays in Toulouse are tricky though, the city effectively shuts down, the phrase ‘ghost town’ isn’t far off, so finding a prime lunch spot is more of a challenge than the same task on a week day. Nonetheless, a creperie was found and some humongous salads ordered. And wine. And dessert.

Our day of touristic intentions had descended into a long and leisurely lunch on a terrace – how typically French of us.

At around 4pm we dragged our sorry asses onto the Metro in search of some, perhaps more engaging, natural history. Fast forward an hour and endless displays of shells, insects and stuffed birds, which ordinarily may or may not have taken my interest, had brought about an incredible thirst for refreshments. Once more we ditched the culture in exchange for a bar.

• Fact one: museums can really take it out of you – especially on swelteringly hot summer days when sangria is infinitely more appealing than dead hippos.
• Fact two: when making a new group of friends, bars and restaurants are clear winners in terms of sociability.

So, maybe one month I’ll go back and really absorb some culture, just no one offer me wine and conversation instead.

Some photos from the weekend:

Bric-a-brac market on Saturday

 

 

One Week In

Tomorrow marks one week since I arrived in France. In many ways I feel settled already. I’ve gotten to grips with the town – mainly just being able to get to the train station, the swimming pool, and the supermarket. I’ve gotten to know the girls a little and feel I have a good grasp of the family dynamic, although, the hard part could be figuring out where I fit within that.

Maybe that happens in week two.

This first week I’ve already:

• Lost a child
• Witnessed one temper tantrum and one breakdown into tears.
• Been told off for loading the dishwasher ‘wrong’.
• Been swimming twice. Find something you can do and stick to it – right?
• Forgotten my swimming costume once, with the result of wearing lost property – yes In hindsight that’s pretty gross.
• Been for three bike rides. Simple pleasures, plus – helmets are really nice to wear in the heat.
• Dealt with a broken down bicycle. A man literally stopped his car at the side of a busy road and helped me. Who said the French weren’t nice?
• Been stopped and asked out on the street by a creepy man donning a wife-beater and sunnies.
• Been harassed by a homeless woman in Toulouse who called me egotistical, selfish, and a ‘beautiful bitch’.
• Had four different types of red wine. This seems mandatory with the evening meal: not complaining.

A few photographs from my week:

 

So Doorknobs in Toulouse are cool…

Bike ride along ‘Le Touch’ with a fellow au pair

Chez moi

Pearl, or ‘bébé-chat’

The Garonne

 

 

 

 

Maths, say what?

Part of this au pair business naturally includes helping the children with homework. Today’s schedule, posted slyly on the fridge just below a few shopping receipts and a cinema leaflet, included an afternoon of revision. In advance of the start of the school year tomorrow her parents wanted me to do some recapping.

English I can do. I have a degree in it after all. But Maths, well that’s just another thing altogether.

Immediately I logged onto the one and only revision tool I could think of – BBC Bitesize. After a bit of thought I decided that my 11 year old must be doing KS3 Math (she goes to an international school). For anyone not familiar with the curriculum (which was me just a few hours ago), this includes basic stuff surrounding fractions, percentages, angles… I could go on.

Today I decided we would do some recapping on decimals, mainly because the previous au pair said that’s where she left off.

This proposal to Chloe was met with a swift drop of the face. I managed to lure her in however, with the promise of playing the Wii after 45 mins of hard graft.

Of course, when trying to explain Maths to a child, its pretty important to understand it yourself. Maybe that’s where this all went wrong.

Adding decimals – fine.
Multiplying decimals – fine.
Dividing decimals – how the…?

New approach designed to take away the intimidation factor of maths, but also to cover up my stupidity in a positive way:

‘Chloe, look, we’re learning together!’

Tears and tantrums follow as I scramble back to my computer to Google the deepest darkest recesses of the most basic of short division. Too late though, I’d become the maths revision demon, and no amount of persuasion (further luring of the Wii) could work.

Our blissully straightforward and efficient terrible and unsuccessful revision session was interrupted saved by the early arrival home of her mother. Thankfully she can deal with any tantrum better than I can, and probably ever will.

On the plus side I learned division today, on the down side, Chloe hates my guts.

Tomorrow could only get better surely?

Don’t Lose The Kids

First rule of au pairing: don’t lose the kids. Yes this is painfully obvious – an absolute no-no, but this happened to me today.

This morning I woke the girls at around 8.30am under strict instructions from their parents. The school year begins for them on Wednesday this week, so their early morning routine needed some practise. I had a great day planned in which I could really shine in my au pair duties – the kids would be obedient AND think I was cool at the same time. I would also impress their parents with my ability to organise the girls and implement order around the house.

Fast forward to 10.30am – the moment I have to call their mum because Sophie (the eldest) has apparently disappeared.

A confusion surrounding the what/when/where of our plans led to this predicament, after Sophie told Chloe and I that she would catch up with us at the bus stop – something about changing her shoes. At this point, admittedly, I should have known that leaving her behind was a recipe for disaster, although she’s 15, I reckon her parents would be pretty disapproving.

So, take one solitary 15 year old without a phone, one au pair with no idea how to navigate the town, and one crying 11 year old with zero clue of where we were actually meant to meet, and you get a very stressful situation, with many miles walked searching to and fro.

Ultimately we decided to go back to the house and wait it out. Sophie made her return at around 10.35, unluckily the phone call of doom to her mother had already been made.

All afternoon I dreaded the return of the parents, would I be told off? Shouted at? Fired, for leaving their girl alone in the house?

Not one word has been spoken about the ‘incident’.

Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal? She IS 15 after all, but maybe next time I’ll wait, and spare myself the palpitations.