Est-ce que je peux quitter la table?: A Day in the life...

As the days have started to take some form of routine, and I organise and colour code my 'emploi du temps', I feel I can describe a day in the life of me in France. I've now decided which classes I'm going to take and they include: (roughly translated) theory of cinema and images; theory of Laban notation in dance; French modern literature (modern being 19th century); History and Aesthetics of theatre and dance; and for some strange reason...Russian. I had my first Russian lesson today and absolutely loved it despite being thrown in the deep end having missed last week's seminar. My friend had decided to study Russian and I've always wanted to learn it plus I felt it was a better language to learn alongside improving my French as it isn't similar in any way unlike, for example, Spanish or Italian. Therefore, hopefully I won't get confused!

So a day in the life...

First I'd like to welcome you to my humble abode, which is gradually starting to look like a home...

This morning I left my apartment at the relatively early hour of 9 o clock, ready to jump on the tram to university. My Tuesday lectures are at the Bron campus of Lyon 2 which is a 30 minute tram ride away. However, at 9 o clock on a weekday morning, one cannot simply 'jump' on the tram. You have to press the button to open the doors as a crammed pack of miserable faces stare at you in disgust at the prospect of you even attempting to get onto this particular tram. I've made the mistake in the past of thinking "Oh I'll just get the next one..." only to find every tram for the next few hours is just as crowded. So I plough onto the tram, elbows at the ready and find myself a 'me sized' corner to huddle in, preferably by the door for optimum ventilation. I've been on busy tubes in London, but this cuts the mustard. Perhaps it wouldn't even be that bad if everybody made sure to shower and deodorize in the morning, but those important necessities obviously pass French people by...(I'm massively generalizing here, I love the French.)

Then something happened on the tram that was a snapshot, which I mentally captured, of something that was crazy good to watch. Basically, someone walking or perhaps even a cyclist must have crossed infront of the tram, causing the tram driver to break and thus forcing every standing person on the tram to fall at a perfect 45 degree angle, in a sort of Michael Jackson Smooth Criminal move that most could probably never recreate. Believe me, it wasn't just your average domino style stumble. It's moments like these on the sweaty, smelly, sardine packed tram that don't make it seem so bad. Another plus side is the fact I find something new to look at along the journey every day, such as these beaut paintings on the sides of buildings...