How To Travel on a Students' Budget

Greece

Countless are the times that my friends and followers have messaged asking me how and why I travel so much. I take it as a compliment and truth be told it’s one that I enjoy receiving. I am constantly challenging myself on a daily basis to try new things and seek out new experiences; travelling just happens t fall under this category. Truth be told, I don’t exactly hide the fact that I travel extensively. Just like the average millennial, I am always posting my whereabouts online. However, I don’t do this to show off or to flex on the haters. Instead, I do it to inspire others to travel the globe and discover what this beautiful world has to offer.

Travelling is often made out to be a complex palace involving a ton of expenses, logistics and time to plan the perfect holiday. However, it doesn’t have to be any of the above. In first year, in the midst of my final exams, my boyfriend and I broke up. My friend and I decided to plan a holiday, and a week later, we were on a flight to Tenerife. The travel cost us 20€ return each, our AirBnB came to 30€ for both nights and food was cheap when we avoided the tourist traps. All in all, the three-day trip cost me around 80€ which I think is relatively cheap, especially considering that some people can spend 80€ on three nights out clubbing. This brings me to my first tip.

Barcelona

#1 Tip: Budget mindfully

In other words, think about compromises. Maybe one night you’ll have one pint instead of two. Put that money aside into your savings towards your holiday. I personally use this online banking app called Monzo. I too of showing me where my spending goes each month, it also automatically rounds up my pennies to the nearest pound and puts that money aside into my savings that I’ll use on my next holiday.

#2 Sign Up to Marketing Emails

I know that there is massive controversy about how much Google really knows about us. I, personally, adore my customised adverts as it always shows me what I want to see, but this is a story for another time. The reason why I always get the best deals in terms of prices is because I sign up to marketing emails. Ryanair is great for them as they often have very cheap flights from £5. The only catch is that they’re often from Stansted (an awkward airport if there ever was one) and at inconvenient times. I remember having to catch at 8AM flight to Berlin with one of my friends and having to sleep on the floor just so that we could make it on time. 

#3 Don’t expect luxury

Something to bear in mind when travelling in budget ; your life isn’t always going to be luxury. Sometimes you’ll have to go out of your comfort zone and so-called “rough it”, and that should be fine. We’re going, we’re penniless, and we have a passion for studying. 

Dubai

Just on a side note: although I am telling you all how to save money when travelling, never risk your safety. If you’re walking home late at night, it’s best to get a taxi back, rather than walking some unfamiliar streets. This is especially relevant for people in a foreign country and if you don’t speak the local language. If you ever feel in any kind of danger, ask for help and stay in areas where it is well lit with people around you. Always have emergency phone numbers for the local area that you can access easily, too. 

Berlin

Now that I have covered the basics, I want to discuss my personal journey, starting from October 2017. This was my trip to Berlin, where I found dirt cheap tickets from Stansted. The three-day trip cost no more than £120, including eating out and going out money. 

My next trip was for my 20th birthday to Barcelona with my boyfriend. We chose an AirBnB slightly out of the centre which saved a lot of money in terms of accommodation. We got a travel pass to travel around, which we would have done anyway even if we lived in the centre. 

Over Easter, I went to Bordeaux to check out the university that I would be attending the following year. 

Over Summer, I grabbed a lifetime opportunity. I became one of the five student ambassadors chosen to travel around the UK in order to advertise the #StudentArtPass. All my expenses were covered and I was paid on top of this. It was one of the most insightful trips of my life, and I again received a lot of messages about this. If it weren’t for me seeking out the opportunity and applying, I’d never had had this experience. Therefore, another tip would be to keep an eye out for job offers and opportunity that involve travelling. Personally, after I graduate I hope to work abroad so that I can travel and still earn money. I did this over summer when I moved to London for an internship. I consider my hometown to be Bournemouth, so loving in the capital was great fun for me.

London

Last but not least, it was actually compulsory as part of my degree to take a year out to study abroad. If you haven’t read or watched my blog on this, do follow this link here. But I’d highly recommend choosing a course whereby you take a year to live and study in a foreign country. I’ve personally loved and learnt a lot about myself during this time. I was even able to travel whilst abroad, taking trips around France and across the border to Spain. Remember, as always, to budget, find cheap deals and stay safe.

Thank you for reading and safe travels.

Yours,

University, Summer in London and Living Abroad | 2018 in a Nutshell

Dragging five suitcases across Lille's poorly signposted train stations was not the glamorous way I expected my French term to end. My seemingly sensible choice of booking the Eurostar back to the UK in order for me to carry all of my purchases now appeared rather irrational as this resulted in having to pause every few steps to take a break. It took me about 10MINS to walk 100 metres from Lille's main station to the International Station - a drab, open airspace, which appeared so unwelcoming that part of me was glad to be heading home. However, as I barricaded myself in my seat with luggage towering around me, I couldn't help but smile at the memories that I had collected in the past six months.

The third term of university was a blur to me. I got into a somewhat insane routine where my flatmates and I would wake up at 6:30AM, walk through Spoons to grab a breakfast-to-go and catch the 7AM bus into campus and be sat down by 7:45AM ready to study. Even then the library would be filling up and the closer to exam season the harder it became to find a spot. We'd stay in the library until about 10PM, only having breaks to talk about how stressed we were and how we wanted to cry. We were fueled by panic, a fear of failure, and a great deal of coffee. We'd all picked up smoking in dire attempt to subdue our stress levels, not clicking the Menthols if we really wanted that hoarse voice the next day. It was a time of sheer exhaustion but also a huge adrenaline rush that kept us powering on. Our being felt so purposeful. It felt like I was truly working on my future, and towards my long-term goals.

Out of my friendship group, I finished my exams first. As usual, I had applied for some summer schemes, and this time I was lucky enough to be selected in order to participate in one of the best organisations that I have ever been part of. ArtFund is an independent British charity which raises funds in order to support artwork. It also offers a National Art Pass for students, which enables young people to visit famous museums either free or at a discounted price. I was one of five students around the UK who were selected in order to promote the pass in time for the Museum of the Year Awards, which would be held in the Victoria and Albert Museum. My four other friends and I travelled, with all expenses paid, from London to Glasgow to Hull down to Cornwall and back to London again. We took photos and posted them on our social media, showcasing all the activities that each museum put on for us. It was an amazing experience as I got to meet so many interesting people who were so passionate about art and with whom I could have deep conversations with about the meaning and history of each piece.

It wasn't long after I came back from the trip that I was packing my bags up from Leamington to head off to London. Little did I know that this summer would be the best one of my life so far. I was fortunate enough to have been offered a room in Kew - acquired through a friend of a friend. Michael was a very kind man 0 I always refer to him as the granddad that I never had. My nine to five job took up the majority of my day, but whenever I came home, he would always be there to have a cup of tea and a chinwag. This would often turn into an hour-long conversation, covering any topic from Lucian Freud to the meaning of life. Interning was a whole new experience for me. I thought that I would spend my days making coffee and be anyone's dog's body, yet by the end of my two-month placement, I was the first point of call for anything related to Marketing. Whilst it got quite stressful or tiring, to say the least, I did fill all my spare time with fun activities. The first few weeks were spent getting my bearings around London. I'd visit central, and all of London's tourist attractions. However, the novelty soon wore off. It was then that I began new activities, such as attending conferences, meeting new people and especially my favourite activity which was trying new restaurants. I truly believe that three-quarters of my spending money went on food. I split my time 50/50, living partially at Michael's, and partially in Wandsworth, at my at-the-time boyfriend's house. I had an incredible amount of freedom. I was living in the buzzing capital, with a decent income and endless opportunities. It truly pained me to leave, but when the time came, my boss threw a wonderful leaving party for me on his boat that was docked on the Thames - so it wasn't all that bad.


Ho*, my boyfriend, took me to the airport when I left. Although we arrived over two hours early, our parting was so emotional that I ended up only passing through security at the time my flight was due to leave! Thankfully, I was travelling with Ryanair, so the flight was late anyway. Ha ha.

Having my parents waiting to collect me from the other side was a delightful moment. I hadn't seen my mother since before moving to London, and I hadn't seen my father since Easter. I spent a few days in Ginoles, my hometown, recovering and having some much-needed parent-child time. A few days later, they drove me and dropped me off 368km North West, to Bordeaux, where I would be spending three and a half months on my Erasmus exchange.

The hardest part of my time in France was not, as I imagined, making friends. For all of those who follow my blogs, you'll know that this is often my number one fear. The hardest part of my time in France was, in fact, finding enough time to do all the things that I wanted to do with my friends (shock!). Along with my 21-hour week at university, I also wanted to explore everything Bordeaux had to offer. From museums to art galleries, to private launch parties - I would want to do them all. It wasn't just a need, but a thirst to grow. Within the first couple of days at university, I established a friendship group of 10 girls and 1 guy, which stayed solidified throughout the time there. We did everything together. I had never had a friendship like this before. I had always shied away from big friendship groups, since my last one in Year 9 was not the best of experiences, as the people were extremely toxic and I suffered severe bullying from it. Therefore, whilst cautious at first, I realised that having a supportive group like this was an amazing feeling. We were all very outgoing girls, which meant that we'd always plan to do new things every week. Whether visiting Christmas markets or nipping down to Spain for a few days, my agenda was always jam-packed.

You can therefore understand why I crashed when I returned to Bournemouth, my family home. I have been so on the go the past few months that now that I don't have activities planned, my body has gone into complete shutdown. I'm currently allowing myself time to recover - a well-deserved break. Until 4 days time, of course, when I'm off on a new adventure. Next stop? Dubai.

Yours,

Being Alone

Currently, I am sat on the top deck of a cruise liner. There are many young Spanish students my age all around me, either splashing about in the pool, or at the bar ordering cocktails. As for me, however, I am sat alone, at a five-seater table, surrounded by nothing but my Spanish exercise books. Sounds lonely, right? Incorrect. I am perfectly content, and let me tell you why.

I have always felt that there is a stigma about being seen alone, especially in a public place such as this. Onlookers may assume that I may have no friends, or something along those lines. This is a perfectly natural thought to have, as I myself have often found myself conuring up some similar extravagant theories when I see an old man sat by himself in a bar. All of my imagined stories have the common theme that this poor, lonely guy must be heartbroken and left alone. But am I right in assuming that his wife left him and that he now spends his long days drinking his problems away? Fo course not. He is perhaps having a celebratory drink because she left him. Ha. Anyway, my point is, one should avoid assuming that a person who is alone is obviously lonely.

Indeed, someone may voluntarily choose to be alone. I recall discussing with some friends of mine their activities that one might enjoy doing alone. Watching Netflix alone in one's room? Of course, this isn't anything out of the ordinary. Reading a book in a local coffee shop all day long? Yes! How mysterious and intriguing. Going to the cinema alone?... I personally disagreed with this one, as I felt cinemas were solely for awkward first dates when a couple didn't know what to say to each other, but my friend argued that when she went to the cinema alone, she thoroughly enjoyed herself as she was able to laugh as loudly as she wanted to without the fear of being judged by anyone but strangers she would never see again.

Being content in our own company appears to be the way to true happiness. I can place my hand on my heart and say that I am my own best friend. I do not feel the need for constant interaction, as I am perfectly content in my own company. It also takes a degree of confidence to go out and be seen enjoying oneself alone, such as queuing up for the cinema (a level of confidence I have not yet achieved).

So as I sit here, getting pitying looks from the passersby, I just smile. Yes, I am happy. Although I am alone, in no way am I lonely. 

Angry Jealous Wife Sacks Young Au Pair

When choosing the title of this intriguing incident, Mumma suggested I put "young attractive au pair" but I didn't want to seem conceited...

As you may have guessed, I am that unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, young au pair who was fired.  I'm 18 and a half and can already say that I've been fired from a job! What an achievement at such a young age.

I have already made a post about some of my time au pairing which you can find if you follow this link. However, to summarise, I had been employed by a French couple to teach their eldest son English and to babysit him and his two younger brothers for around 3 hours per day. This included a couple of evenings when the parents went out.

When I heard of this opportunity, I jumped at it. It sounded like the perfect work experience I needed. I am currently an undergraduate studying French and therefore welcomed all the practice I could get, and living with a host family would seem a perfect opportunity to truly immerse myself into French culture. I had also previously tutored a French girl to speak English,  and had a lot of experience looking after children.  My aunt, who told me about the job, also informed me that they were a very nice Jewish family and assured me that I would have a lovely time.

I was soon in contact with Madame* and emailed her about the job. They planned to go from their home near Paris, down to St. Raphaël, and then back up to Paris.  I was to accompany them all the way. The verbal agreement was to start from the beginning of August until September (ideally until the end of September to then take the children to and from school). Both parties agreed on the matter, and the sum of 500€ was settled for the month's work.

A few weeks passed and my parents were able to finalise their own holiday plans. The idea was to drive me to Paris, drop me off at the family's house,  and then for them to drive down to our place near Perpignan. Due to travel costs, it was more convenient if I were to start my job a week earlier. I requested an earlier start, and Madame welcomed this as the elder son was returning from summer camp at the same time.

On the Tuesday night, my parents and I arrived in Paris and a couple of hours later we went to my host's home for aperitifs. We were greeted very warmly by the parents. Monsieur was a stocky man in his mid-40s with a bald head and little round rimless glasses which sat high up on his nose. He had a loud, contagious laugh and was a very attentive host. Madame was very petite and delicate with a thin smile which never really stretched to her eyes. That first night, we all sat out on the terrace and talked about the matters of the world. The language we spoke was on the whole Franglais. Madame was a keen English speaker but occasionally forgot one or two words, and vice versa with my parents (although for them they knew one or two words and forgot a lot of French!). Madame also promised my parents how she would give me a tour of Paris before leaving to go to St. Raphaël. A quick tour of the Louvre, or perhaps a ride at  Disneyland? It all sounded amazing. We seem to get along very well together and Madame suggested I slept round immediately, however I declined her kind offer as I wanted to spend one last night with my parents before leaving them for 6 weeks.

Early the next morning I was dragging my five ton suitcase up their stairs and into the bedroom which was going to be mine for the next two weeks. After settling in, Madame and I drove to a station in Paris to pick up Adrian*, who had been banished on summer camp for 3 weeks. During the drive Madame and I spoke a lot. We shared many common interests and laughed a lot. Madame and I spoke a lot of English to each other, and I helped her learn a copious amount of English phrases. She carefully noted down what I introduced to her and by the end of my time, she had a huge Word document on her phone! She kept telling me how thankful she was to have found me, telling me that I would be a perfect influence on her boys.

Adrian, aged 12, seemed like a typical pre-teens boy. He replied in grunts and seemed more interested in his iPod than anything else. I understood exactly how he felt and told Madame how I used to be the same, but she refused to believe me, saying she couldn't imagine such behaviour from me. Ha. Ha.

The next five days I spent alone with Adrian as the parents went to work. In the mornings I would make his breakfast, play fun games with him and taught him songs like "Head, shoulders knees and toes" to help him practise his vocabulary. For lunch, I'd prepare our meals which he enjoyed even though they mainly consisted of hamburgers and pasta. In the afternoons, we'd play a sport such as table tennis or take a walk in the park. When the parents returned in the evenings I would set up the dinner table ready for the evening meal. Monsieur would always go to great lengths to prepare delicious three-course meals. Over dinner I would hold polite conversation and discuss Adrian's progress in English. His process in English pleased them a lot.

After that first week the two younger sons returned from their grandparents' home, where they too had been banished for the past 3 weeks. The parents had told me how it would get a lot noiser once the three boys were back together again and I can assure you that their prediction was correct! After a few hours of getting used to my company, the three boys treated me as one of their fellow play mates, tackling me to the ground and being very boisterous. It was all light hearted, and all good fun at this stage of my employment.

The first weekend with the whole family together was quite enjoyable. Monsieur suggested that we went to the Louvre, as previously suggested the first night, but unfortunately Madame just wanted to have a picnic at the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was a very close day - both in temperate and tension. It was the first day I saw Madame truly lose her temper at Adrian who had accidentally left a backpack in the park. Although I understood her frustration, I felt her anger was humiliating and unnecessary considering the circumstances. She later apologised to me for allowing me to view such a "personal" matter.

The next week was spent with the Father and the three boys. I continued my hourly lessons with Adrian, and spent the rest of my time playing games with the boys. Over the weekend I quickly learnt the characters of each of the boys: Adrian the eldest, influenced the other two and showed visible signs of teen-moodiness. George, 9, the middle one was the most wronged,  and screamed continuously for attention (his Mother even told me there were spots in his voice box due to the strain...so you can imagine how loudly he screamed). The youngest and cutest, Timothy, aged 6, was arguably the most manipulative. His big blue eyes and gappy smile fooled everyone and got all he wanted - and he knew his power. One injustice towards him and he'd burst into tears and a second later he'd get his way. Useful tactic, really.

On the 6th of August, we all travelled down to St. Raphaël by train. It was a hard task keeping the boys under control, but somehow it was managed. Whilst travelling, I often pitied Monsieur who had to carry the family's two massive suitcases and rucksacks whilst Madame strolled leisurely around with a rolling valise. I would often rush to Monsieur's side and helped him up the stairs whilst Madame would just wait impatiently at the top, snapping at him to hurry up. When spending more time with the family at St. Raphaël, I learnt a lot about families, especially the dynamics between my host family. All of which I'll reveal later.

In the two weeks I was at St. Raphaël, my daily routine was quite repetitive and monotonous:

8: wake up and exercise in my room
8:30: breakfast
9: go down to the beach after Monsieur would text me, where he would have set the towels and umbrella out, and I would wait for the family to wake up
10: family came down, minus Madame who would come later as she preferred to stay in bed
12: lunch at the apartment
13: teach the boys English (somehow since moving to St. Raphaël I was then responsible to teach not only Adrian, but also the two other boys English. A task somewhat difficult as they all wanted my attention at the same time and to get it they ended up pulling on my clothes, my hair, or screaming in my ear until attention was given.)
17: going down to the beach
20: dinner!
21: playing card games with the children
23: bedtime

I spent a lot of time playing with the children on the beach, which I didn't mind at all as it meant I got a pretty awesome tan. Everyday maybe twice a day, I would walk the length of the shore with either one or all three of the boys. We would talk and joke a lot, and we all became very close. Adrian told me about the family's last au pair, one of their neighbours, who the parents absolutely hated. The girl apparently didn't spend any time with the children, and treated the whole experience as a holiday. Adrian said how the parents weren't impressed at all with her behaviour,  but had to pay her as she was their neighbour and couldn't really do anything about it. However, I was pleasantly pleased when Adrian said that the parents loved me, especially the fact I spoke English!

Spending so much time with the family really enabled me to experience some peculiar incidences during my stay. As an employee, I couldn't comment, but I could observe. I soon realised that neither parent had any control over the children, and that shouting at them would have no effect on them as they would just laugh in their parents' faces. The children's language and behaviour shocked me, but I assumed that it was just growing up. I hoped, for the parents' sake, that they'd be more disciplined when they were older. However, I think one of the weirdest things I observed was the way in which Madame treated Monsieur. It was like something from American Sitcoms - whilst Monsieur would comically carry all bags, do all the household chores, and cook a three course meal twice a day, Madame would sit down and command everything from afar. If the water was a little out of her reach, she would tell (not ask!) Monsieur to get it for her. No please, no thank you. At first I thought that she may have just been having a bad day, but that bad day became a bad week and a bad month. Whenever the children needed,  say, someone to cut their food up for them, even if she was right next to them, she would ask her husband to stop whatever he was doing,  and cut the child's food up for them. Sometimes it became so ridiculous that I got up myself to cut and feed the children, in order to allow Monsieur to continue whatever he was doing in the kitchen. Continuing with the food talk, I once heard a huge clank coming from the kitchen. It sounded like Monsieur had dropped a casserole or something, and I turned to Madame asking if we should go check if he was okay. She took a very blazé attitude, but seeing my concern, she told me I could go check up on him to see if he needed help. It was times like these where her lack of concern for her husband shocked me.

Similarly, she seemed to treat him with ill disguised contempt. When at the beach, she would scream and shout at him to change the position of the umbrella if her little toe was not in the shade, she would publicly call him a bad father if he forgot to put suncream on the children, or she just snapped at him for no apparent reason. I witnessed all of this, and would help Monsieur whenever I could to ease his workload. He seemed to appreciate my help, and would thank me for my efforts.

In my mind, I was doing what the family expected of me. I would even go as far as saying that I went over and above their expectations, as I would not only do the duties required of me, but anything else that seemed helpful. I would lay and clear up the table, I would feed the children, I would shower them, play with them, tidy up after them, and by the end I was not only teaching the children English, but French aswell. Therefore, it came as a shock when they decided to fire me.

One day, I woke up and went to the kitchen as usual and was shocked to find both Monsieur and Madame in there. It was common to see Monsieur in the kitchen, where we would talk and have breakfast together, but I knew something was wrong when Madame, the late riser, was also awake. That previous night, they had left me alone with the children, so I tried to make casual conversation about their night out, until Madame interrupted me, asking me why there were three dishes on the draining board and if I thought that it was her responsibility to put them away. Her tone was harsh, so I shut up. She continued on by saying how the lights were left on, and that she found the freezer door wide open and that the kids' bathroom was a mess. I apologised for all of these, especially the freezer door as I remembered that the night before I had allowed Timothy to get himself another ice-cream without my supervision. Madame, who was the only one to talk the whole time, then told me that she found it so bad that she didn't wish to keep me on any longer as it could only get worse. I must admit to being quite taken aback, since all I got from her and her husband were compliments on my behaviour and I did not understand how this mistake had warrantied such a harsh decision. When my Father called her to discuss my immediate dismissal, he asked for more reasons why I was fired. She seemed physically affected by the question, shaking and nervously looking at her husband, and stammered out that I never helped with laying out the table, that I never played with the children,  and never spent 3 hours a day with them. This, out of everything,  shocked me the most as they were such outrageous lies. Nevertheless, after a long discussion, the agreement we came to (or shall I say, what she told me what would happen), was that I was to be send back to my parents' home that very day. Madame later informed me that she had also not told the children the truth as it would have been too "traumatising" for them, and instead she told them that my dad was dying!

However,  what surprised me most of all was the fact that Monsieur and Madame made me write  a contract after I had carried out the work. Something I'm pretty sure is illegal in France. Both husband and wife being lawyers undoubtedly knew this. The dates were wrong, and they paid me only for the weeks spent at St. Raphaël as I apparently had "volunteered" to come earlier. They also said that I did not work during this period as Monsieur was there the majority of the time - a comment they later went back on, saying that I only worked in Paris.

The suspicious circumstances under which the family fired me raised many queries. My aunt was especially surprised since when they saw the family before going to St. Raphaël, they told my aunt that I was a God send and the best au pair the could have found. Dad suggested that my relationship with Monsieur was a bit more friendly than Madame would have liked. Mum suggested that the family found a new au pair who could work throughout September, whereas I had to leave awkwardly around the start of the month. I suspect I was just an awful au pair.

* All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened

The Window

To outsiders,  the window wouldn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. It was made up of two panes of glass, opening up in the middle by a turning handle. Occasionally,  especially in the summer months, the wooden panes would expand in the heat and the window would let out a horrific groan, as though it were struggling to push back upon he who disturbed his peace. On other occasions, quite the opposite would occur. A huge gust of wind might blow from the outside inwards, forcing the window open and rattling its glass panes in great triumph of its might and power. But for onlookers, this would have still been considered an ordinary window.
If is only on closer inspection that one may notice that this was no ordinary window. It's colour was a distinctive, unnatural stark white, which illuminated the living room it aboded. It would somehow hypnotically draw a person towards it, by its sheer luminosity, and one may realise that this was far from an ordinary window. The view it looked over was of a huge green field, with an abundance of nature and wild animals within it. In the foreground was a little river which ran down from a mountain which could be seen in the far distance. However,  it is not until one would open the window that one would realise the sheer beauty of it. The window brought us sounds - sounds of the birds chirping, of the wind whistling,  and of the stream resonating it's beautiful song of peace. The breathtaking combination of view and symphony would make it hard,  even for an outsiders to claim that this was just an ordinary window.

•

I was bored and Father challenged me to write about one of the windows in our living room. This is the first and only draft which took roughly 10 mins to compose and write, but I feel it was pretty successful so I wanted to share it with you!

Pre-Uni Stress

First things first: I got into Warwick University.

Wahey!

Before writing this post I actually scrolled back a bit and found my post from when I visited the establishment with my parents. I had called it my "dream uni" and I am so grateful that they accepted me and I got the entry requirements for my course!

On the 18th, results' day, my Facebook feed was filled with posts from my friends publishing which unis they got into. It was an exciting experience for all - and those who may not have obtained their first choice still managed to find some great places through Clearing. Fast forward a week, and those who are going to uni all have a firm knowledge of where they will be spending the next three or so years of their lives.

Once knowing their universities,  many students joined their appropriate uni Facebook group and started group chats with their peers. I had previously joined several of these chats and made acquaintances with many on my course. However, due to my current lack of Internet  (I have to travel to the next village in order to get Wifi from the local café), I'm unable to be constantly online and replying to messages. Therefore, my friendships have become frail, to say the least.

Just this afternoon, I quickly checked the group chat, and found out all the participants had bonded with each other - a lot. The whole chat seemed to have their own inside jokes and nicknames with each other. I was but an onlooker to their little world. They were already meeting up with one another, and had planned outings as a group in order to create memories before studying at uni together.

This made me feel quite sad, and above all, lonely. It's fairly pathetic and melodramatic that I write this all on my blog, and I pray to the Heavens Above that none of these people were to find my blog. However, their closeness has only made me feel more distant from them. I have been, unintentionally, excluded from their tight knit. I feel alone before even starting uni.

I have to keep reminding myself that there are others out there who will be freshers,  like myself, who may have not even been part of this group chat and they too will have no friends on the first day. Even so, my mind is filled with panic about what's to come. The biggest fear is of course that of solitude. I'll be away from home, from my parents, from my boyfriend. My friends will be off at uni getting a whole new set of friends, and the little voice in my head tells me that they'll no doubt forget all about me. What's more, I'll be away from safety and where I feel comfortable. However, I ought to keep reminding myself that growth comes with going outside one's comfort zone. I will be able to push myself into situations which are different and thus exciting. I will find a new people, and new activities to occupy myself. I really ought to embrace this opportunity. And get a grip.

Paris • St. Raphael

This summer, I was offered the job of au pairing for a French family living on the outskirts of Paris. As I am hoping to study French this September at University,  I jumped at this amazing opportunity.

For those who have not heard of the term "au pair", it often entails a young student looking after children whilst staying at their house. A bit like a long term babysitter. There are many websites which enable families to find au pairs, such as this site which is very popular. I know many people, including one of my elder cousins, who hires au pairs over summer in order to help around the house and lessen the chore of keeping the children occupied. Before starting my job, one kind friend decided to tell me a horror story of how her parents treated their au pair - like absolute slavery! They would use the young girl to do dirty chores and act like a modern day slave who waited on their every word.

Thankfully,  my family is absolutely lovely. I look after three young boys aged 6, 9 and 12. Being an English au pair, my duties consisted of giving the eldest English lessons once a day (apart from Sunday which is rest day - a break for both parties!). They often let me have breaks from playing with the children, and allow me to go on walks by myself and explore each town. However, I try and spend as much time with the children as possible in order to alleviate the parents' stress as much as I can. Whether it be purposefully losing a race or beating their arses at Uno, I'll be down for it.

As well as benefiting them, this experience is also benefiting me. I'm able to practise day-to-day French for over a month with real French people (wow) who are willing to correct me when I'm wrong, as well as teaching me some "verlan" which is extremely amusing.  I hope that this month will enable be to be that one step ahead of those at uni, whichever it may be. Bring on the 18th.

Jet Pack Blues

It hasn't even been a week but I'm already nostalgic about France. I miss the country air, the scenery, and my best friend. She's off to uni this year and as I'm probably not returning to that area of France again, we may not ever meet again like goddamn vegans (Tyler please, this isn't the time).

I thought it would be nice to share with you some of the beautiful views I saw during my summer in France. They range from local lakes to the views across the valley - enjoy!

Our little village from the mountain top

View across the valley from a chambre d'hote

The lake of Puivert

Puivert Castle

Views from blackberry picking

Les Trois Piques

Another blackberry picking view

View from our veranda

Forest 

Le Toucan

When driving back to England, I had the opportunity to stop off and have a little walk around the town of Saint-Lo. I really like how friendly the people are in the North of France, and everything seems very clean. By searching on TripAdvisor, the Toucan had received very good reviews and my parents and I ventured there to try it out. It's a crèperie and therefore their dishes are based around pancakes, however they appeared to use a different batter for their main meals (a thick, savoury batter) to their deserts (a lighter, more delicate batter). Just the look of these photos make me want to go back!

Top Restaurant In Figures, Spain

For my parents' wedding anniversary, we decided to spend two nights in Figures, Spain, so that we could celebrate the date at our favourite restaurant, L'ou Dor. (LINK). It was a lovely occasion, and it's wonderful feeling when the waitresses remember us and the manageress comes and says a little "buenas tardes".
However, we've been to the restaurant more than a dozen times, and we decided that it was time we tried something new. Father searched up for other restaurants in Figures, and I was shocked to discover that L'ou D'or was ranked the 59th on Travelodge - 58 restaurants BETTER than L'ou D'or?! Impossible. Therefore, just to try it out, the next day we luncheoned at the top restaurant in Figures.
The outside appearance was nothing to rave about. In all honesty, it looked a bit like a coffee shop rather than a top restaurant. Whereas L'ou D;'or was in the town's backstreets, we had to travel slightly out of town to get to 9 Suprem. Thankfully, its location had its advantages as there was free parking everywhere.
I was also advised that one books a table in advance, and in hindsight I strongly recommend this, but us being us, we didn't and just turned up #yolo. But seriously, the first time we went there (yup, there was another occasion too!), we arrived just before they started serving for lunch, which was probably the only way we could have gotten a table since a few minutes later, the restaurant was packed. It was a pleasant surprise to note that 9 Suprem's customers were mostly locals. It just emphasises the fact that they weren't a typical "tourist" restaurant that charge extortionate prices for food which is obviously bought from the Carrefour down the road.
Despite the menu being in Catalan, (thus making it harder for me to translate since I only speak Spanish), our very kind water translated it for us. The next day, when we returned for a second time, he did this without hesitation, which was very nice of him.

I can't remember the exact names of each of the dishes, notably because they were in Catalan, but I had a salad with melted Camembert, followed by grilled chicken kebabs and then....the best tiramisu you'll ever taste. No joke, I had the exact same the next day and I do not regret it in the slightest. It was light, creamy and home-made. It was heaven in a jar, honestly.

I think the best part about the meal was that it was only *drum roll*, 10 euros each. 10 euros?! I know, I know. This included the amuse-bouche of olives and bread, as well as water and the house wine (a choice between red and rosé). God only knows how they're making a profit. It's hard to believe that the top restaurant in Figures is so cheap! If you ever have the chance to visit, please do, and order the tiramisu. And bring me back some too. Mhmm...

Ramblings #2

The smell of freshly ground coffee wafts through the morning air as I sit on the veranda looking listening to Frank Ocean. Sweet, sweet life - is it not? Agreed, at the beginning of summer holidays I'm somewhat of a pessimist as I see the blank calender endlessly stretch out, but a blink later and I find myself two weeks' away from re-starting sixth form. I'm going to be in upper-sixth, which despite being one of the 'top dogs' of school, also means that it'll be my last year at the establishment. Time flies like an arrow (...and fruit flies like a banana).

The Uni Prospectuses currently cover the living room floor and Mother keeps complaining how messy it looks. They're flooding in at the moment, and it amuses me to wonder what the postman must think they are as he stuffs four more packages into the tiny slit of our letterbox. Maybe this is what Harry Potter felt like in the Philosopher's Stone when he got hundreds of letters from Hogwarts... or not. Anyway, the majority of the summer has been spent highlighting and comparing each of the courses. The marketing departments have all done such a great job in promoting their unis that I've ended up very confused and wanting to apply to all of them. It's such a joke that 17/18 year olds have to choose a career path at this age. I can't decide what type of cereal to have in the mornings, let alone what I'm going to spend the majority of my adult life doing. Some courses, such as the Liberal Arts and Sciences course at Birmingham, enables students to basically 'pick n mix' their own degree courses. Whether one would want to do a bit of Maths alongside History of Art - whatever, you could do it. I thought that I had finally chosen my course until I saw the Entry Requirements of A*AA *cue for audience laughter*.

I mean, one doesn't /have/ to go to University. It's just the general route everyone goes down because it's what expected. As Felix Dennis says, 'keep to the track, to the beaten track'. But, but what about 'YOLO'? Okay, hear me out and don't think I'm going to go all Drake on y'all. Think of the concept of 'YOLO': You Only Live Once. Personally, I think that the term may be tarnished from young teens' misuse of the phrase. It doesn't justify doing immoral or illegal things, it just means that that you should do things that make you happy and not live in regret for not doing them (then again, if doing immoral and illegal things make you happy.....well, that's for another post). Let me give you an example. The majority of people have 'go skydiving' on their buckletlist. Why? Just like I wrote about here, it is one of those so-called 'sports' which give you a rush of adrenaline. However, when you ask Joe Bloggs in the street if he's ever fulfilled his dream, he'd probably say no. Why? Because he doesn't YOLO. He goes to his 9 to 5 job that'll keep his bills paid, but when he has free time, he sits at home watching Youtube videos of other people skydiving. Go out there, Joe Bloggs; save up and go fulfil your dream of throwing yourself out a moving plane 12,500 feet off the ground.

My friend Harrison* and I used to muse with the idea of truly 'YOLOING' our lives. He had this crazy idea, this crazy, crazy idea, of not going to Uni and just moving out to America, living on a farm, and livin' off of the fatta the lan'.. Living like a hermit, I suppose; being split off from the world and just being content in one's own little world. I mean, why go off to University just to write down on your CV that you have a degree in X? Isn't ignorance bliss? Obviously, when Harrison presented me with this idea I turned into a Geraldine's character from the Beautiful and Damned and replied "Cra-azy". He must have undoubtedly felt like an intellectual among a spoilt and callow youth. After all, he once wrote me a 1,500 word essay (or seemingly so) about a mule. Yeah, you read it right (luv u rly bby). In all seriousness, it was very interesting, and he made the analogy of how that mule didn't know about climate change nor about 9/11, nor any world problems for that matter. It would just go about its day, hell, its /life/, not knowing all those draining issues - but it would still be happy. Maybe we should all be like mules.

Anyway, my coffee appears to have brewed. After I pour it out, I'll no doubt go back to meticulously reviewing university prospectuses.

Mediterranean Markets

Call me cynical, but to me, most Mediterranean markets are the same. There's the same old pointless junk sold in each of the stalls, with overly-eager sellers (or, seemingly laid-back sellers who glare at you from afar) who are just gagging for your money. Plus, they can literally smell tourists from a mile off and bunk up their prices when they see yo' skinny white ass approaching. Have you not heard of bargaining, darling? I must admit that I used to be a bit fearful of doing so, perhaps after my first experience when I was 10 and my Father pushed me to ask for a lower price for some tacky hair band that most 10 year olds want, and the woman merely pierced her lips together and said "Non, petite. Allez, va t'en". This was condescending, and psychologically damaging as I didn't try to push market prices down for about 4 years until my ego recovered.

Nowadays, I rarely accept the suggested price on items I find at markets. After all, the price on an item is called an 'Offer to Treat', to give it its legal name. This means that the price that they place on the item isn't necessarily the one you settle upon. It is just an 'offer', as the name suggests. Occasionally, and this just goes to show how low my life has become, I enjoy bargaining with market sellers on items I don't necessarily want to buy; I like bargaining just to see how much percentage I can get off. Then again, this can go awfully wrong. The other day I felt like Johnny English trying to escape the crazy cleaner lady because I had to run away, literally run away from this guy who didn't get the hint that I didn't want to buy his tacky faux P'tit Marcel bag. I used the common excuse of "Oh, I'll be right back, I just have to get my money" but the idiot wasn't street wise enough to get the hint and followed five paces behind me until I escaped to some public bathrooms and stayed in there until I 100% knew he was no longer waiting for me outside. Tragic, I know.

Every time I go to markets, it's like I can already tell what is going to be there. There'll be the fruit section, the clothes section, and the trinkets section. I mean, c'mon, here's a check-list of people in markets that you can use to play 'I Spy' with.
 - a stall with tons of bracelets attached to cardboard poles
 - a fruit stall with melon samples which is covered with flies, but nobody seems to know the definition of hygiene as they happily stuff their face with the bacterial-ridden fruit
 - a mysterious white haired woman selling spiritual books and crystals
 - a guy with amazing dreadlocks, tattoos and piercings selling intense and Buddha statues (he often seems really, um, /high/ on life)
 - a token English couple selling some weird English stuff eg. scones, which nobody really wants bar other English people, who are often friends of the couple and who only buy their products out of pity
 - a stall with huge woven baskets in pretty colours, pretty designs and pretty big sizes
 - a stall with all the varieties of 'saucisson' there is, which includes tasters and is probably one of the most popular tables in the market until a little kid screams because there is the option to buy some little horsy meat too... which, by the way, is delicious
 - an organic honey store with tasters of bread and spoons to spread the honey on... again, very unhygienic - but who cares apart from the tourists?
 - a mobile pizza van which nobody really goes to
 - a stall selling bread that looks like rock hard plastic which would 'kneed' a strong set of teeth to eat, let alone a good deal of stomach acid to digest
 - a dench old guy who attends a surprisingly huge book store who insists on reading you Voltaire in a deep, calming voice... and thus convincing you to buy an anthology of French poems (true story)
 - second hand clothes 'stores' which looks like a bomb exploded in a teenage girl's wardrobe and then taken to the market and set out on a tressel
 - overly eager Moroccan men ready to sell you imitation leather bags and belts (reference to the story above)
 - and finally, the most random store which sells stuff ranging from mattresses, to kitchen utensils, to loom bands to zips...

If you've ever been to a Mediterranean market, did you recognise any of the people I mentioned above? If not, do comment others that you've seen so that I can add them to the list. This post has quite a negative view of markets, but there is a part of me, deep deep down, which actually likes them. I guess I like their ambiance, which one can't really get in England. I like the chaotic cries coming from the loud fruit sellers, the rush of people as they go from store to store, but what I love most of all, is spending my money buying all the pointless junk I find there.

The Military Diet: My Experience

I've never been on a diet before. There didn't seem much point, if I'm honest. Up until now, I believed the propaganda fed to me by my school, my parents, reviews in magazines: "Be healthy but don't be stupid" was the bottom line. You should eat everything in moderation, stick as close as possible to your five-a-day and not be a couch potato. There seemed to be no use in forcing yourself, making yourself even unhappy, by going on a diet as they never worked. That's what they said, anyway.

I'm not particularly large, nor particularly slim. I'm 17 and have a petite build, but I can't run up three flights of stairs without puffing and blowing. I hope you're getting an idea of what I'm physically like by this... Anyway, it's summer and I have time on my hands. After reading some #justgirlythings on tumblr and getting motivated to get fit, I bought myself some exercise gear which I found on Pinterest and decided that I was to go on daily walks in order to build up stamina and tone up. However, I asked myself, why not go all out? As mentioned previously, I had the time to search up and plan a diet. The search for a short, easy diet which worked wasn't hard to find and Google quickly brought me to The Military Diet.

For those who have not heard of it, The Military Diet is a three day diet which provides the dieter with precise meals which they should eat at breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's easy, and some websites even provide you with a shopping list to know exactly what to buy. The food isn't even that bad either! Mainly consisting of stuff I like such as tea, tuna and toast, I thought I'd give dieting a go...

At the start of the three day-marathon, I weighed around 48kg, which I've heard is average for a 5"3 teenage girl. I was motivated, and hardly felt like I was on a diet as I was eating stuff I enjoyed. Additionally, in the heat of summer one doesn't feel as hungry as one would say, in winter, therefore I think it was an easy transition from what I usually ate to dieting. All I had to do was cut out the fizzy drinks, the snacks in between meals, throw away the stash of food I have hidden under my bed for midnight treats...

It thus came as a shock to me that at the end of the second day, I had put on weight. I asked my Mother if that was the same for her, as she had kindly said she'd go on the diet with me for morale support, and she had had the same experience too. Admittedly I cursed the diet, the vloggers, and all those filthy filthy lies I had read and so gulliably took as gospel, but nevertheless I carried it onto the third day.

And it's finally over! By the third day I had really started complaining about my hunger - God forbid I ever went on a diet lasting longer than three days, I wouldn't be able to cope - so it was a relief when I had my last bite of the apple on the third night, followed by the vanilla ice cream*.

Anyway, I undressed and reluctantly stood on the scales this morning, and joy of joys, I've lost 6lbs. Not the promised 10lbs, but I'm still happy with the result. Now that I'm not cursing the diet and have returned to my senses (or something similar), I'd recommend this diet to anyone who wants to lose a quick few pounds. Also, I feel this is kind of a 'try before you buy' kind of diet which allows you to predict how you'd cope if you go for the full blown thing. Diets on average last a few months! Personally, I'm glad I've done it as it's another thing I could blog to you lovelies about, but on the other hand, I'll probably put on the weight during my oh-so-missed midnight snacks. If dieting is your thing though, just

*I never really understood why the vanilla ice cream and the peanut butter were part of this crazy diet, they seemed somewhat out of place. The internet explained that it was to counteract the other ingredients and cancel each other out, but Mumma said it was to appeal to the American Market. 

Image link: x

REVIEW: Kindle

I went to the dark side and bought myself a Kindle.

I know, I know. I've heard all the arguments about how it’s not the same as a good ol’ fashioned book - and I was one of those who used to preach the exact same thing. I used to frown down upon Kindles because it took away the beauty of reading a book. The process of going to a bookstore, fingering the covers and the bindings of tens of books, picking one up and feeling the texture of the pages, weighing the book in your hands as you flick through the pages before pressing your nose into the middle of the book to smell that comforting ‘book smell’. All those little pleasures are taken away when buying a Kindle, and that’s a very strong point that opposition have.

My rationale behind buying a Kindle was very simple. Due to the vast amount of work I am set at school, it is very rare that I get enough time to sit down with a cup of coffee and immerse myself in a novel. The last ‘actual’ book I read for pleasure was probably Lord of the Far Island, in Summer of 2014, which may give you a time-scale. However, a few months ago I bought Girl Gone on GoogleBooks for my phone. It was an impulse buy, admittedly, as it was on sale, but I devoured it within a couple of weeks (I am a fairly slow reader and this was during exam period so this was incredibly fast given the circumstances). I was amazed at how fast I read it, but in some ways, I’m not surprised. Being a typical teenage girl, my phone is in my hand 24/7 and in any spare moment (eg; on a bus journey, between lessons, when so-and-so goes on about their boyfriend…) I would open the app and easily pick off where left. It was that simple.

I knew that this means of reading suited me, however there was one major problem - I am shortsighted, very shortsighted. I knew that if I were to look at such a small screen*, my eyesight would get considerably worse and that was not something which I could sacrifice. Therefore, after a little investigation, I found the perfect alternative priced at £109.99: the new Kindle Paperwhite. Now, I don’t often buy the latest gadget on the market (in all honesty I often don’t find much difference between each generation and believe that it is only a way to sell more products *cough* Apple *cough*, but let’s not get into that), but this time I had my eye fixed on a product which still hadn’t been released. Therefore, there were no reviews to indicate whether the purchase would satisfy my needs, but the YouTube trailers sure did look good. Amazon also showed outstanding reviews for the previous generation, the Kindle Paperwhite 6, though there were a couple of complaints about the lack of backlighting, and for my eyesight’s sake, I didn’t even consider it (bearing in mind there were about 2 complaints out of 1000s, and it would have cost me considerably less but... it’s my life, Mum). And that was it. Item bought and dispatched the next day after I subscribed to the 30 day free trial of Amazon Prime in order to get free delivery.

Kurt the Kindle is now very much part of my life. Kurt, after Kurt Cobain, goes everywhere with me and fits perfectly into my handbag. I love him, I love him I love him I love him. As soon as I received him I ran upstairs to charge him and download books onto him.** One thing I must warn you of, dear Readers, is to search through the free books available before buying any. There are about 26 search pages of classic books which are included under the public domain and are free of charge. I myself downloaded around 50 of the free books, which range from anything from Great Expectations to Dracula. It’s as simple as one little click, and after signing in to your Amazon account on both devices (or alternatively plugging the Kindle into your laptop then connecting it to your WiFi), the books automatically sync in.

Kurt immediately introduces you to the How-To guide on how to use him and has Step-By-Step instructions in order to familiarise yourself with him. Once that is out the way, you can always go back to the Manual, which is kept in your personal ‘bookshelf’ as well as a Dictionary. Oh, one of my favourite things about Kurt is the dictionary. When reading a book, even if you’re offline, you can highlight a word and not only does it give you a definition, where the word originates from, the option to X-Ray or Wikipedia it (internet required), but it also automatically adds the unfamiliar word to your personal dictionary so that you can review and learn it! How awesome is that? If English is not your native language, there is also an option called ‘Word Wise’ which gives simple explanations of words above a complicated word whilst reading and you can select how many words you want Kurt to define (ranging on difficulty levels).

Being an English Literature student, I was worried about how I would make notes, however Kurt had the solution. I can highlight sections of any text, add notes, but more importantly, I can also see sections which other Kindle users have highlighted and depending on how many times they have highlighted it I can judge the importance of the quote. That is by no doubt one of my favourite things about Kurt. The mere simplicity and how easy it is to use him. I remember when I used to have ‘actual’ books and went through the grand deliberation of weighing up the consequences of writing in books. Whether it be for personal notes or for school, I think we can all agree that writing in a book feels like a crime, a violation. However, with Kurt I don’t feel guilty at all.

Apologises for the length of this blog post, I'm just really enthusiastic about Kindles. I hope that you can all understand, or at least, have some more knowledge, on how amazing Kindles are and that there is so much blasphemy surrounding them. If you have a Kindle, please feel free to comment your thoughts and if not, I’d love to hear why you’re a good ol’ fashioned book lover!

* I own the Motorola G 2nd Gen with the 5”5 inch screen but it is still comparatively small. Endless research has shown that due to the reflection/glare which screens give off, access use of electronic devices such as mobile phones is not recommended without pauses of 15mins of looking into the long distance in order to relax one’s eye muscles. Kindles are fitted with anti-glare and therefore doesn’t look or act like a screen. It gives the appearance and also feels like actual paper.

** The cable is included but with no plug that connects to a wall, so I normally just plug it into the side of my laptop or swap wires with that of my phone.