“Sometimes in France, trains, they fight with animals…”

… so now we must check if it is animal or human.”

Backstory? On the sixth of January 2015, I moved to France. As an au pair, I plan to learn a language, experience the culture and see a lot of sights.


My farewell was incredible. Saying a temporary goodbye those I adore is always awkward and blegh but people can make it so great as well. In the weeks leading up to my departure, I got to hold my Granny’s hand, make jam and tell her that I love her almost hourly. I had a six days with friends telling kids about Jesus. Family christmas involved card games, late night swims, a movie and the sounds of Mary Poppins and the Eagles. My last night in Sydney gave me the best cake ever (with FUCKITY BYE!!! written on it — sorry mum), incredible conversation, a room full of streamers and balloons and a French film. But I really am going to miss hugs. Hugs are brilliant, and one of the few things that cannot be accomplished with social media.

The trip of course, began with bulk hours of travel. Australia isn’t exactly close to Europe. By the time I was boarding the TGV for Lyon, I had been awake for roughly 27 hours, and was running on pure adrenaline. Yet all was going to plan. Hurrah! Until the train hit a wild boar (Sanglier).  Boo-erns. After two hours of waiting, we were heading back to Paris for the night. Five hours later, I was falling into bed. Literally. My pack was far too heavy.

Despite the travel setbacks, I met some darn awesome people. I was greeted by Russian, French, Uzbekistani, Canadian and Italian travellers, who were to become my company as we waited. And every one of them was lovely to me.

Thus, the adventure began.



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