Salut Toulouse

All alone, with a ten journey ticket, a pocket map, and a peach in my bag, I made my way into Toulouse for the first time. I put thoughts of not actually knowing how on earth to get back to my suburban house out of my mind, and replaced them with thoughts of how on earth I’d find my way around the city.

Getting to the city from my side of town requires a split journey. The first leg is on the SNCF (the smallest two-carriage train I have ever been on), the second is by Metro (also small enough to rival Glasgow’s subway system). Altogether it takes roughly fifteen minutes, hardly a long commute. I wondered if, with my glaring pale skin, camera bag around my neck, and a permanent facial expression of anxiety, I looked like a tourist – most likely.

I decided to alight at Capitole, mainly because Place du Capitole is the place I recognised most from my pre-departure Google investigations. The metro isn’t actually situated in the square but in a more shaded and bench-friendly area around the other side of the Capitole building. Luckily my instinctive sense of direction (watching the other tourists) lead me through a grand neo-classical archway of the imposing town hall, and got me slap bang in the middle of the famous square itself.

Capitole

Market at Place du Capitole

I treated myself to some people-watching on various benches around the city. There is a definite cosmopolitan feeling to the city, which could be due to its large international student population, but there’s something to be said for Its geography – closer to Barcelona than to Paris, it figures that the city feels more Mediterranean than its prim and proper big cousin.

My hunger forced me to practice my French. I came across Chez Jean, a café, where I bought a salmon wrap to go, and an Elle magazine (the chic way of learning the language). I used my pocket map to navigate myself to the river, an ideal scenic lunch spot filled with like-minded city goers. The laid-back atmosphere of the Garonne’s banks mirror that of the city’s streets, but provides a welcome breath of fresh air from the bustle of the centre.

The streets – like many old European cities – can be a little winding and confusing, but everywhere you turn there are sign posts guiding you in your desired direction, or, when all else fails, Capitole.

Day one in Toulouse was a success. I’m left with a good impression of the city and its people, which I’m excited to explore over the next few months. Hopefully I can work on the looking-like-a-tourist thing by then.

The Art of Being Alone

I feel like I’m in a romcom. Not quite as tragic as Bridget Jones, I’m definitely not JLo in Manhattan, and I don’t even think I’m Jennifer Anniston. I just mean that, sitting alone in a café (as I am now) feels terribly romantic. Not romantic as in romance, but as in, well, something from a movie.

Yes I am aware people do this all the time, it’s not abnormal in anyway, I’ve just never really done it before. I’m sitting tucked away in a corner of a Costa in the centre of Glasgow. I have a photo-shoot tomorrow morning in Oban, so I’m travelling through there today. An unfortunate incident involving a misnamed train and my own stupidity lead me to my current situation. I ended up missing the connecting train to the west coast and have been confronted with a four hour wait – all alone.

First thoughts: must find coffee shop to inhabit for several hours, charge my phone, and probably have a coffee too. I headed straight for Royal Exchange Square, where I knew there was such a coffee shop, and expected it would have the essentials of survival – plug sockets and wifi.

Upon entering I began to feel self-conscious. Strangers watched as I negotiated my suitcase in amongst annoyingly placed seats, bull in china shop isn’t a far shout. I used my jacket to mark my territory and reserve a table for myself before joining the queue. My inquisitive looks surveying the corners of the room for power supplies seemed to alarm strangers; I did after all appear to be checking out the thighs of everyone around.

The first thing necessary to pulling off the alone in a coffee shop look is a newspaper. This gives you an occupation other than looking around the room blankly while uncomfortably downing your coffee for lack of anything else to do. The newspaper also aids the appearance of intelligence, something, I think, enhances the alone-but-OK-with-it look even more.

My next step was to pull out the lap top; this gives the illusion of purpose. I’m alone in a coffee shop for a reason. This also isn’t a complete lie, I am writing this blog post after all.

I quick look around the room and I notice that I’m not the only one.

This guy next to me has been here way longer. He’s gone for the intelligent academic look, marking papers and what not. Woman in corner is pretending to text – another trick for the novice loner. And this other guy to my right must be very confident indeed because he is rocking the unoccupied just-drinking-coffee-with-nothing-else-to-do look very well.

I’ve eased into my loneliness by now. Quite rightly so, I can certainly expect more of this to come in Toulouse, with an added language barrier just for fun. Only two hours to go today though.

Oh great, I need the toilet, now what.

Josie

See You Later Scotland

Yesterday I set off cross country to the west coast of Scotland. This is a beautiful area I feel I haven’t visited enough, so I was glad that work – in the form of a photo shoot – brought me there. The early morning light of our 6am start made the surroundings even more stunning. A fitting way to leave Scotland behind for a year.

Connel Bridge.Taken with Samsung

Heading to location. Taken with Samsung

Castle Stalker. Taken with Samsung

Don’t Say Goodbye

So Toulouse is getting pretty close now. I leave in exactly ten days and I can officially say ‘I move to France next week’. After the 28^th there’s this strange cut-off in my life. I’m not making any plans past this date, and plans made by friends naturally exclude me.  September – and the rest of the next ten months – is currently one big unknown. A void that although scarily empty at the moment, I know will be filled. This obviously feels quite unnatural.

The goodbyes have started already. I wouldn’t say I was particularly good at them either. ‘So… this is probably the last time I’ll see you for like a year?’, followed by a weird and ever-so-slightly-longer-than-usual hug. I don’t like goodbyes for several reasons, there’s this unspoken pressure to have meaningful ‘last words’, to grasp the significance of the ‘last’ moments together, and anything too forced – especially with acquaintances that aren’t quite good friends – is just a bit awkward and insincere. I sound like I hate everyone, but this isn’t completely true, and I do say goodbyes.

Today I realised though, maybe the reason goodbyes seem so uncomfortable for me is because they aren’t really necessary. Without sounding like an old timer reminiscing about days gone by (mainly because I don’t actually remember ‘those days’ too well), these days goodbyes don’t carry the same significance they once did.

Yesterday, within a minute of saying goodbye to one of my good friends in Edinburgh, we were already on Snapchat. Texting has been upgraded to actual ‘face-to-face’ conversations; this means that as long as you have 3G or wifi, you won’t be lonely. The need to have a catch up with friends is further diminished by the fact that you can normally see exactly what they’ve been up to via Facebook or Instagram updates. Goodbyes traditionally pre-empt a period of being apart and of missing someone.  If you don’t miss people in the same way you used to, how can goodbyes retain their significance?

So although I’m moving to another country and leaving behind my family and friends, and although it will be strange not to be able to see them at short notice, I won’t be as far away as the geographical divide dictates. Goodbyes then, will continue to feel strange and ever so slightly unnecessary.

Josie

Opposite of Adult

Although a ‘year off’ au pairing sounds like the ideal post-degree wind-down, the reality is I’ve felt very unsure if whether it’s the right thing to do. Several of my friends have landed graduate jobs with actual salaries, and part of me (the bored, sitting around at home part) feels really eager to see what’s out there and apply for a ‘real’ job and, well, be a grown up. A year living in another family home is quite possibly the furthest opposite of being a grown up. The term ‘Jeune fille Au Pair’ says it all really.

Yet, as a twenty-one year old, is the pressure I feel to be getting on with life, a very modern symptom? Contrary to what my mum tells me, along the lines of ‘you’re still so young’, the pressure I feel upon entering life as a graduate is less ‘enjoy your youth, there’s no rush’, as much as it is ‘hurry up and start your career’. I was seventeen when I went to university, yet ironically at that time I felt like a seasoned adult, eager to move away from home and lead my independent life. Although the course I undertook was not exactly vocational (English Literature), I enjoyed it with a blind optimism that I would eventually figure out what I wanted to do ‘when I’m older’.

So, here I am, ‘older’ and still waiting for the epiphany, but that’s OK. And I’m not saying that I don’t feel like an adult because of this, it’s just that I’ve possibly become more realistic in my approach to life. Twenty-one is still so young, and here comes the worst line you’ll read today: I’ve realised that there is probably no point in shoe horning a career without getting to know myself first.

I’ve decided to be an Au Pair for several reasons, but my main hope is that I can gain some new perspective on life, travel, and meet interesting and inspiring people along the way. I’ve decided to ignore my irrational doubts about this year, neglect tending to my ‘grown up’ life and embrace the freedom my youth allows. 

No it isn’t ground breaking taking a gap year, and I’m sure I’m not the first to write a blog about it either, but I’ve created this blog as a means of documenting my time abroad, both for myself, and for others who find themselves in the same conundrum.

For once, I’m going to do something scary, exciting, and adventurous.

Josie