Jeudi; ou le billet de retard et Vendredi

(Thursday or The late pass)

Thursday night a few friends and I decided to go out for some drinks and so what followed could easily be the start of some kind of joke; An Australian, an Angolan, a Palestinian, a Saudi Arabian, a Russian, a Pilipino and a Japanese person all walk into a bar in Vichy… No it would never work asa joke, the situation was far to ridiculous!

Thursday morning the habitants of Vichy were greeted with a snow covered ground. When this happens the shop vendors usually put salt or gravel on the footpath. For those venturing out before the shops open; the way is treacherous! Walking to school took me 15mins longer than usual, particularly seeing that every step I took was carefully placed on the ground so as to avoid the embarrassing "glisse" on the street. I am proud to say that I did not fall but I was unfortunately late to class resulting in the infamous "billet de retard".

We spent the night drinking cocktails (for 6 euro!) and communicating through a combination of French, English and animated hand gestures that almost resulted in the loss of some of the precious beverages. Towards the end of the night a slightly intoxicated woman came up to our table and reminded us, in French, that class starts at 8:45 and we all better be there on time! As no one at the table actually knew the woman the incident reaffirmed my belief that we stick out in Vichy like joggers in France (seriously though, don’t wear running shoes in France. If you must run, do it in heels or risk seriously concerned “up and down” looks from everyone you pass. I have decided to leave the exercise till I return home.)      

As the majority of our class arrived late that very morning (yes we had to get “late passes” which were printed on angry-red cardboard) we decided we should call it a night!

Friday was, unfortunately for my beauty sleep, another late night were a farewell party for one of the Russian residents turned into a giant melting pot of students of countless nationalities, cheap French wine and cigarettes. Although I am yet to physically take a cigarette to my lips I feel that my time in France had allowed me to inhale almost a packet. Being a good girl I pulled a Cinderella and made a swift exit at midnight ready for the weekend’s adventures.