À bientôt, à tout à l'heure, au revoir.*

* See you soon, see you later, until the next time
The very end of our first semester has arrived. We handed in our final papers and projects, and steeled ourselves to say goodbye to our friends who were leaving at the end of January. I guess it would be redundant to say that I dislike goodbyes, given that I don’t know anyone who actually enjoys them. But, it's sad to think that I may not see these people again. Many of the Japanese and Korean students whom I’ve gotten to know are heading back home. I’ve always thought it would be vaguely interesting to go see Eastern Asia, but it wasn’t until I met these wonderful people that I began to have a very great envie to go. I absolutely have to see Asia!

This is going to sound corny, and perhaps it is, but if I’ve learned anything this year it’s that despite all our differences that seem so significant, no matter where someone is from, we’re all pretty much the same. So many of the friendships I made this semester were based on waves, smiles, and a cheerful “ça va???” shouted the entrance hall. We came from every time zone, every latitude, and yet we could all connect on a much more basic level. Everyone wanted to learn, everyone wanted to have fun. And we did. And something else I noted is that we étrangers (that’s to say, foreigners) tend to understand each other’s mangled French better than many French people understand us. Case in point: my oral expression class. There were only 5 of us in the class, and each of us had a different mother tongue. But when someone struggled with a particular sentence, we students often had more luck in picking up what they were trying to say than our professor could. Our shared language turns out not to be French, but rather the willingness and the desire to understand each other.

The last week of classes, I asked my langue professor, Florence, if we could organise a dinner together as a class. So on Wednesday evening we all met up at a little crêperie in the old city centre. It was lovely, as our class gets along so well but we don’t tend to all hang out outside class. We stayed for a couple hours just enjoying the food and each other’s company. It was great having Florence along with us. She’s seriously the coolest teacher. No other university professor I’ve experienced has ever shown so much interest in his/her students, never taken such good care of us. If we have trouble with a lesson, she goes out of her way to find further exercises for those who want them. You’re having trouble with your host family? She’ll help you. You want a job? She’ll help you. She was more the host mother to us than many peoples’ mères d’accueil. Unfortunately, the school requires that all the students change levels after first semester, so I’m not able to have her again. It’s a blow, but it was such an advantage having her that I really can’t complain. My other professor that I shall miss is my history prof. It is due to people like him that I am so fascinated by the subject. Each class is like story time, or perhaps a TV episode. Every student is poised on the edge of his or her seat, sucked in by his stunning delivery. I’ve decided to write my history honour’s thesis on French history, so I’m going to see if I can get his help in picking a topic.

Last weekend was the least exciting of all my weekends in Angers. In fact, I think it was the one and only (and please, let it be the last!) that I spent at home, not being social and celebrating life. Instead I developed an intimate relationship with my semester’s worth of notes and read TWO grammar books cover to cover. Never again. Our final exams started on Monday. I spent the week as productively as possible, paying homage to the beautiful school library. Matthieu and Adrien have set up semi-permanent camp on the second floor, so Canadian Matt and I joined them. The poor things are probably sorry they told us to join them, given how many questions we ask, but it was lovely spending time with them, as usual. I started a new study pattern (for me, anyway) of going to bed at a “reasonable hour” and waking up early to get myself to the bibliothèque. I will miss this library next year! Stfx, take note. If you provide a welcoming place for your students to study, they will actually do so!

So my exams passed without serious incident, my grammar exam being the grave exception. Speaking of exceptions, I’m pretty sure my prof put every possible grammatical exception on the exam. Actually, there was one other event worth mentioning: Matthieu and Adrien both teach oral expression classes, and as a result are supposed to oversee the oral exams. Matthieu asked when mine was, and when I said Friday afternoon he informed me that it might be he who would be marking mine. Later, however, he double-checked his list and said that no, in fact, my name wasn’t on it. Phew! It would have been too embarrassing to do a speech in front of someone I knew. But you can see where this is going. On Friday, I arrived at the required classroom, only to have the door opened by Matthieu himself. No, it wasn’t possible! He had promised me it wouldn’t be him. “J’attends Margaret Ewing. Tu la connais?” (I’m waiting for Margaret Ewing. Do you know her?) I thought he was kidding, but after a second a realised he was quite serious. I forget that people don’t know my real name. “C’est moi!” He didn’t believe me. “Mais non.” “Mais si!” It wasn’t until I walked past him into the classroom that he realised what had happened. “Margaret Anne. Margaret. Anne. Annie. C’est toi???” Neither of us could stop laughing for a good five minutes. As horrifying as it was to have to present a press article in front of a friend, it was such a good joke that it was hard to be too torn up about it. At the end of the exam, the other exam attendant said “au revoir,” but Matthieu and I looked at each other and said awkwardly “ben… à ce soir, probablement” (well…see you tonight, probably).

And so we did! We all finished off the term in high style. My friend Élise, one of the monitrices, had a little soirée at her apartment. Several of the other monitrices were there, as well as Canadian Matt, his Japanese roommate Keisuke, and Élise’s brother Julien. After a couple hours there, we headed out to the Rue Bressigny, the rue des soifs (street for drinkers - so nicknamed due to its many bars). There we met up with a bunch more people, and laughed and chatted until closing. First thing the next morning (7am) Matt and I were to take a train to the Alps for a week of skiing. The bar we were at closed at 2, and Matt suggested that we forget about sleeping and just keep the night going. There is one dance club in the city centre called Le Bolero. Several of us were keen to carry on, and so we did. The wait to get into the bar was a little brutal, but once inside, it was fun. I didn’t know what to expect, but it was just a collection of dance floors populated by groups of friends shimmying the night away. At 4 something a.m. I decided that I really needed a few minutes of sleep at least, so I biked back home. I got 45 minutes before my alarm clock sounded. Rather a miracle I got out of bed, but I made it to the train station in good time. Quite a night.