Official (Pre-)Year Abroad Breakdown

So I'd heard that a fair few people get quite emotional just before their Year Abroad and this is mine. I'm freaking out. I won't go into detail about how and why, but those who know me well will know how I'm reacting right now.

AAAHHHHHH!

Don't fail to prepare, or you'll prepare to fail...

So as this is my last full week at home, the Year Abroad preparations have been switched up a level. It dawned on me that I still needed another suitable-sized luggage, as well as taking ownership of my parents' biggest suitcase. For months I've been planning on getting a rucksack, so I finally decided to get looking, because if I wanted it to be delivered, I had to order soon because time is running out. Before I left Leeds for the Summer, I found one I quite liked and was decently priced, so went online to find it again - only to realise that it was currently out of stock. After widening my search, I came across a slighter dearer, but slightly bigger rucksack so bought that. Plus, it's purple, so all is well.

Space. Obviously, this is the main worry when it comes to packing and if you're flying, weight restrictions are a close runner-up. As I'm getting a ferry, I can take as much as I can carry and I am determined to do so. There's fewer changes in my journey than I thought, so it won't be too much of a struggle. My friend, who has recently jetted off to Russia, bought some vacuum storage packs. I'd heard of these before but never got round to trying them, but there's not better time like the present. After searching good ol' Amazon, I came across these; and despite the packaging being written in a completely different language, I find them to be absolutely fine for what I need, and at £10 for 6, you can't complain.

Talking of money, I needed to work out how much I wanted to take to France until I get my salary. I read that it is recommended to take about £1000 to cover you until the end of October. When I figured out that, by the end of September, I will have paid my landlords 542€, I'm not sure if that'll be enough, especially when to open a bank account, I'll need a starting sum of 100€. As I didn't want to use my debit card abroad and I didn't want to take that much cash, I decided to get a CaxtonFX currency card which has been recommended a lot. The card is free, there's no transfer fees, you can use them at most ATMs and you top it up by internet, text or call. I loaded my card today, which was really simple to do, all that remains to do is to call them to receive my PIN number.

All this preparation is good, but I'm still avoiding the preparation which scares me the most. Preparing lessons. We're meant to receive a welcome pack from the British Council, by post, in August, but it seems they're quite behind on things. I have however, come across this, which is a very informative manual about being a language assistant. From what I've read so far, I now have a few pointers on where to start and in a few days, I'll contact my responsable again to ask a few questions about things such as the level of the students' English and if there are already any resources available to me. I've already been in touch with him this week asking about dress code. I had originally addressed this question to the principal, who I've not got a reply from yet. The good news is, there's no restrictions on what I am allowed to wear - which includes jeans.

I think I'm getting rather excited now. Just really not looking forward to the packing. I'll be back soon with a few ideas on how I'm going to deal with teaching.

Translation: The Cost of Homophobia

This is the translation that I have been doing over the last few days and I thought I'd post it here as it's easier to share that way, plus it is linked to my Year Abroad... just about. I realise that I could change some bits to make it more 'Englishy', but I can't be bothered right now, I'll do it later. I've had it checked by a French native, so I know that I understood the original article well enough. The original article can be found here. I'm actually quite proud of myself for getting through the entire 2000-word article. Enjoy and feel free to share.

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Dear reader, allow me to put you in the picture. I’m a few days away from reaching the ripe-old age of 21, preparing for my Year Abroad in Lannion, France and I’m wondering about how I will fit in to French culture, especially when it comes to sexuality. Many people might not see this as such a dilemma; ‘So what if you’re gay? Chill out’. That’s easier said than done though when facing a whole new, albeit Western, culture. Of course, I want to go out and enjoy myself in France, but can I do that whilst being true to myself?

Over the past two months, I’ve been doing some intense research into the gay life that is available in my town and by cutting a long story short, I came across the LGBTH association, &BraiseZ, (also see Let Us Be) which lead me to an amazing article. I’ll admit, I didn’t understand everything that was written, but what I did manage follow, I found very moving indeed. So moving, I decided to challenge myself and translate it into English. I promised, as I rightly should, that I would credit the original authors, so here goes; thank you to Christophe Segard, President of &BraiseZ and also to Axy, from Rainbow Brest, for composing this wonderful article and for allowing me [to attempt] to translate it so that the message can reach a wider, English audience.

Right, that was the easy bit. I have a dictionary at the ready, let’s get translating.

The Cost of Homophobia

How do you define homophobia, or even LGBTphobia? Is it a call for hatred, an invitation for violence? Does homophobia stem from ignorance, from fear of others or the unknown? In France today, we know one thing for sure; the hateful comments found throughout this article are now punishable by law. Each of these homophobic insults could bring a fine of 45 000€ and a year imprisonment.

‘I’m homophobic and not afraid to show it’

The original article explores the vast amount of tweets which were created whilst this year’s Paris Pride march was in full-swing. I am not going to be translating them for two reasons; the first, being that I think my head would implode with all the colloquial language and the second, being that I had far too much of a great time at Paris Pride to sit and re-read such awful comments. Throughout this article, I’ll take you on a journey which will be similar to the one which Axy describes in her letter.

Yet, first I want to show you some responses to a homophobic attack in which a young man was tortured. If you read French, the article can be found [here]http://andbraisez.com/index.php/actus/homophobie/900-violente-agression-dans-le-doubs.

‘Now the victim will realise that he must stop this abominable sexual debauchery’

‘Homosexuality is a deviation, a mental illness’

‘There’s more and more of them, yet they can’t reproduce. Whose fault is that?’

‘The sado-masochistic games went wrong…’

The present government committed itself to answering a question which, during the political campaigns, was directly linked to the recent attack: ‘Will you provide a public organisation with the means to fight efficiently against Internet-borne homophobia and transphobia?’ In response, M. François Hollande has been in favour of this concept.

The small sample of homophobia which is portrayed throughout the original article represents a grand total of a fine worth nearly 2 million euros! This is the price of daily homophobia, which was found in a few minutes with minimum effort.

Rainbow Brest

The following comes from the Rainbow Brest association, which works in partnership with &BraiseZ in the fight against LGBTphobia. Axy, the author is an activist who likes girls, boys, boys who like boys, girls who like girls and then also the girls who like boys and boys who like girls…

Homophobic friends, prepare yourselves for a little trip to the country of love, tolerance and kindness, a country with sharing, no violence and many other things which seem so strange to you.

Dear our homophobic friend

Oh yes, you read it right. I’m not like you, but I don’t hate you. You spout out hate towards me and my community, but I can’t bring myself to hate people, even those like you. You know, I like girls and if you roll your eyes as I kiss my sweetheart in front of you, it’s because I love her - not for the pleasure of provoking you. It’s purely because I love her and that love is a really great feeling. And well, just like that, I prove my love to her. You know, you should give love a try, it’s life-changing.

You turn your nose up at us, you talk about beating us up, you say we’re sick, you see us as a disgrace to society. But do you really know us? Do you know who we are? Do you live our lives? Don’t you think that you should have tried to get to know us before making your judgement?

No, of course not. Because if that was the case, if you got to know us, you’d like us.

You would realise that we’re just like you. We have jobs, houses, friends, problems, families, dogs, cats and also fiancés. Fiancés to whom we do not have the right to marry. That right there, that’s the real blow. You have the right to marry anyone you want to and to divorce them and start again. Well, you see, we can’t do that. We have to constantly give everything we have just to let it be known that we want this right too.

Come with me, dear homophobe. Don’t worry, you don’t have to hold my hand if I disgust you that much. If the worst happens and you brush against me, I have antibacterial wipes so you can disinfect yourself. You never know, I might be contagious. Come with me. Come look around my community. I’ll show you the people who run our associations because we didn’t click our fingers to get here, you know. We struggle every day, but we never stop. We listen to the victims of your prejudice, we console them and we tell them that we will never give up. We dress their wounds and build up their morale. Do you realise that your only achievement is the blood which stains your hands?

Do you know the kind of idiots which will be spurred into action by your comments and who will believe that knocking us about is a good idea? Have you seen the bruises, the punches, the broken limbs all because a man and his lover crossed paths with individuals who had nothing better to do with their lives?  Come, we’re going to A+E who sees these victims all the time, and you know what, you’ll be shocked by their pride and their strength, because even if they’re heart is always in their mouth with incessant butterflies in their stomach, they continue to give everything they have, to talk and to point the finger at those to blame.

Look, while we’re here in A+E, I’ll show you the hundreds of kids who try to take their own life every week because they feel the full force of homophobia. Along with them, I’ll show you the deep cuts on the wrist, the boxes of swallowed pills, those who jumped out of windows, the scars which they’ll keep for life because their sexuality is frowned upon. I’m not going to show those who jumped off bridges or those who stood on the rail tracks, because they’re no longer here to talk. Come on, we’ll pass by the cemetery, and if you don’t know what to do, you can help me put flowers on their headstones. It won’t bring them back, but who knows; perhaps the silence at the grave of a 16-yr old girl who shot herself because she liked girls will cause you to think for two seconds.

While you’re here, we’ll go round the town. Have you seen them, the two men holding hands? I don’t know why but I find it really beautiful. It’s rare to see heterosexuals proving their love to each other in public. Do you know why we do it? Because we feel love and because we don’t have the right to wear wedding rings. Because we don’t have the right to justly show our love. Because we should be happy with a so-called equivalent. You will admit that the world isn’t equal but even you, the heterosexuals, have the right to a civil partnership, but we can’t marry. Logical, right? You think, deep down, that it’s not that serious. We can also have ‘super ceremonies’ with the Soeurs de la perpétuelle indulgence[literally: Sisters of Constant Indulgence] (one day, I’ll introduce you to them, I’m sure that a host of men wearing red lipstick will please you) with promises, vows, rings, and people who cry all the tears they have in them because there is nothing more beautiful than a good kiss between two guys or two girls who have just got married. But then you say that through the eyes of society, they’re not truly married… well, believe me; in the eyes of those who were there, they are the very definition of the beauty of marriage.

Oh look. Look. Two ladies with a baby. Come, let’s ask them about who they stole the baby from. You hear that? It’s theirs. It’s their baby. Theirs. They are two women and they have a baby. Come on, look, they’ll introduce you. The child is beautiful, is it not? He has the eyes of his mum and the chin of his other mum.

Do you know what this child will become? An adult. An adult with a bit more tolerance than what you have.

Look, the night is drawing in. You should come with me on a night out; we shouldn’t stop seeing as things are going so well. Do you see them, all these people who appreciate everyone here without actually knowing each other? Do you know why? It’s because we’ve gone through hell throughout the day, to brush off your comments, to struggle to be accepted, to bear the weight of your remarks, so that when we all meet up, we come close together, without question. When you get drunk, you fight and you argue. Yet when we’re tipsy, we continue to love each other. We only do that; we love each other, we love and see a friendship in each new meeting and one more reason to keep fighting for all that I’ve shown you. 

Wait, I’ve not finished. Come with me and we’ll see all the people who, voluntarily, with all their heart and free time, keep our associations running. I will show you them, the crazy ones who write articles at 3am, those who plan future events, those who spend their life on the phone giving a shoulder to cry on for those who need to be heard. Each person you point your finger at, their body covered in your spit will look for help during all hours of the night – they will find us. We fight so that this person knows who to call, and especially so that they know that their fight is also our fight.

You know, us, the queers, the butches, the lesbos, the homos, the trans, the drag queens, the bisexuals, when one of us falls from your hits, the whole community cries, without exceptions. When you shoot one of us, we all fall down. And, each time, it is us who stands up with more strength, because each added name to the memorial wall is another name for which we will win this battle, for which all of us will defy you, for which we will achieve equality.

Because tomorrow, when your son introduces you to his lover, you will think of his happiness.

Because tomorrow, when your daughter gets married to another woman, you will cry because they are wonderful and because you are so proud of them that you want to tell the whole world.

Because tomorrow, you will come to boost the numbers in the Pride March because we personify love, nothing but love.

Because tomorrow, when we will all be in the streets shouting for joy because we will have the right to marry, because we’ll have the right to have children, you will be with us to toast the champagne.

And because, I don’t hate you, even if you haven’t understood anything today. I pity you. You miss out on the most beautiful things which life has to offer. Joy, beauty, pleasure, happiness, sharing, courage, pride. And love, of course.

Sincerely,

Axy.

P.S In fact, you can tell your homophobic friends that even if you shout loudly, we will sing loud than you. Always.

We will never let go of anything

This article is dedicated to all the victims of homophobia over the years, those who knew how to fight it, those who suffered physically and psychologically and those who fell under Hate’s bullets and punches. Never will we forget you or cut our losses but wherever you are, know that we will never resign and never will we admit defeat.

T minus 15 days

Two very good friends are heading off to Versailles/Paris and Lyon for their Year Abroad tomorrow. Not only am I going to miss them, despite going to see them in respective cities, it has also made me realise just how close Lannion is getting. I'll be heading over there in 15 days. 15 days from now, I'll almost be arriving at Plymouth port.

On another note, it seems that preparation for the YA is intrinsically linked with spending a lot of money. In the past three days I've spent £185 on YA insurance, £50 on an apostille for my birth certificate, £12 on an ink cartridge so I can photocopy ALL the documents and £120 on flights home for Christmas. It's just a depressing amount of money and I've not even arrived on the continent. It doesn't end there though. Tomorrow, I'll be getting my eyes tested, which inevitably will mean new lenses (will probably get whole new glasses, just in case I break/lose a pair in France)...

So what have I been doing to mentally prepare myself?

Negative:

Avoiding packing and other planning/preparation.

Curling up on my bed in denial.

Positive:

Watching videos of Lannion on Youtube

Voluntarily translating an article from French to English

Going for meals with friends to say goodbyes.

I've actually forgotten where I was going with this post.

I'll go away and come back later.

A bientôt!

Living in Denial

So, I've just realised that by this time in 25 days, if everything goes to plan, I will have already arrived in France, set up a bank account and will now be going on a mini tour of my town. I keep telling myself that once I arrive and have dumped my bags, it'll be okay and I'm just worrying over nothing. Or maybe, once I've got there, set up the bank account, gone to the CAF to explain that I don't have a social security number, finally met my classes, AND made it to St. Brieuc before 9am on the training day... just then, and only then, might I start to feel calmer.

As I'm sure you've caught on by now, I've already started applying for housing benefit (now on referred to as CAF - Caisse d'Allocations Familliales), even though we were told in the Year Abroad talks that we couldn't apply until about a month after we arrived. This is technically true, but my landlord was insisting that I started now as it's the date of application which counts. So what I've had to do is tell them everything I could and then at the end of October, just update them, which is apparently easier and quicker than starting from the beginning.

I've read many a time that French bureaucracy is enough to put anyone off from moving to France, either temporarily or not. So far, I have to say I've not found it too horrific, I've just photocopied every single piece of identification and information and sent it to the CAF. The only trouble I have come across is cultural differences. I was asked for a Social Security number, and as we don't have that over here, I left it blank. After I posted the entire form to my landlord so he could complete his part, he started asking me about this number. At the time, the only thing I could think of that might have been similar was my National Insurance number, so gave him that, along with a rough outline of what NI does. He then replied to me explaining exactly what Social Security is, which is when I realised that my EHIC would be the closest information I could give. After describing the NHS and the EHIC card, he wrote all the numbers on the form, just in case. I'd like to think that I survived that discussion rather well.

This success doesn't stop me from living in denial though. I was thinking the other day about the aspects which scare me the most about the next 9 months or so. This is what I've come up with and I'll try to put them in some sort of order.

Not being good enough to teach: This is definitely my number one worry. I'm going to have to stand up in front of a classroom full of teenagers and come up with something relatively entertaining for an hour, every week. I realise that planning is key for this, and planning I will do, but what if I plan the wrong things?

Being faced with a constant wall of silence: Linked to the previous one, what if my lesson plans are okay, but the kids are just really stubborn and don't care about what I've prepared? What if they strike and just refuse to participate?

Living with two guys: Not a major worry, but it certainly exists. I didn't really think that it could have been a possiblilty. It's certainly going to be different from having an ensuite for the last two years!

The language barrier: You might have thought that I would have placed this higher. Don't get me wrong, I'm worried about how my spoken French will go and how there'll be cultural clashes with humour, but the teaching anxiety is huge. Maybe I should have applied to university...

Packing: How, just how, do you fit your life into a suitcase and a rucksack? I don't have any luggage restrictions per se, just whatever I can carry. Considering I needed a van to move out of my flat in Leeds (read bedroom and part of kitchen), I think I may struggle.

And finally, a trivial worry, just to make the others seem more important, the cobbles and the hills: As I get older, (I know, I'm not even 21 yet) I consider more seriously that I may naturally have bad feet. Bad in the way that they hurt if I'm stood up too long, if I walk too far, or if I walk on uneven ground. At first, I thought I was just being pathetic, but it's something I'm starting to look into and if it doesn't improve over the next year, I'll be mentioning it to my doctor when I return to Leeds.

Am I excited yet?

I'm currently trying to determine whether excitement has surpassed my anxiety yet. 

Deep down, I know the answer is no; don't be ridiculous, I'm always going to be anxious about it, each new day will bring new experiences to me. But maybe my anxiousness is reaching a manageable level... 

Over the past few days I've done a few things to bring me that tiny bit more closer to my Year Abroad. I've returned forms to the CAF, sent a letter to the Principal of the college because I believe he didn't receive my email (or ignored it...), talked to one of my housemates, who'll sadly be leaving at the end of September and read a blog from an American girl who was an assistant in the same school as I will be. Certainly some interesting things to bear in mind from reading it...

My last post talked about the nightmarish journey I was preparing myself to have on 3 French trains, however, it turns out that someone, probably my housemate, will be coming to find me at the port. Roscoff is roughly 70km from Lannion, which by car, can be reached in just over an hour. My landlord suggested that, instead of getting all the trains which meant I wouldn't arrive in Lannion until lunchtime, someone will pick me up - then I'll have time to open the bank account that morning. 

What?

I'm sorry... you actually expect me to be awake and coherent enough to be able to open a bank account, in French? On verra.

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It's just come to my attention that I've not really told you, the readers, about the school in which I'll be working. So I feel that now is a prime opportunity. I'll be working in a lycée, called Félix Le Dantec, which is like a college here where we would take GCSEs (for how much longer?) and A-levels. Over in France, students take the baccalauréat comprised of varying subjects and pathways. Le Dantec is a polyvalent college which basically means that it is multidisciplinary. 

As I'm sure you've guessed, the college is named after Félix-Alexandre le Dantec, who, according to Wikipédia, was a French biologist and philosopher who died of tuberculosis in 1917. I don't recognise any of his works, but he liked to write about Darwinism and other theories like that. For those of you who can read French, you can read this Wiki page or if you can't, you'll have to live as I can't find an English Wiki page on him. Time for a photo or two to round off, I think:

Roll on, Roscoff!

So, I finally decided to take a ferry from Plymouth as the method of travel to get me to the Hexagone. Annoyingly, the ferry doesn't leave until 11pm on Sept 14th, unlike the 8pm one from Portsmouth, but I've booked it. Following my arrival in Roscoff, I'll need to get a bus to Morlaix, and a train to Lannion with a change in Guingamp, all with big bags of luggage. Cannot wait.

Including today, I leave for France in 36 days. It's so scary. I've said my final goodbyes to Leeds and won't be returning there until Sept 2013. It's so weird to think that. I was meant to be writing about a few things in this post, but I appear to have forgotten most of them.

It's been mentioned that it might be a good idea to take a small gift of 'English' things for my responsables as a thank-you for the work they're going to be doing with us and the support we'll be getting. So far, I have some London themed stickers and not sure what else to get. Tea and biscuits, maybe?

Things that have made me feel a bit more positive about the whole experience are that I've found a LGBT-H association in the town which I think is slightly like a union to join but also runs events and stuff. Yes, because that was coherent... There is also a gay friendly bar and coffee shop 8 minutes walk away from my house. So I think, as long as the house is all legit, things should go okay.

My memory escapes me.

This will do for now.