I'm sitting in a laundromat in France, listening to Crowded House, on a small box barely bigger than an audiocassette, that has almost every song I've ever loved or recently liked.
I was depressed this morning. I've been bludging off a foreign government for 10 months, and had a presentation to give that I was so sure would be the end of my studies that I wrote Australian idioms into the slides in an effort to lose my audience. That tactic failed so spectacularly that not only did they like what I said, they doubled the length of my talk with discussion, and suggested they might find me a more lucrative scholarship next year.
I am finally arriving at the conclusion that you can, in fact, fool all of the people all of the time. You just have to be fast on your feet and be more familiar with the domain than your superiors.
If only I was convinced that I really wanted to spend all three years of the course in France, I'd be pretty smug. As it stands, I wouldn't complain too much if they booted me back to the southern hemisphere, if only they could find a reason that didn't show me for the bludger I've been. Failure to follow proper procedures for my residency permit. Too pale to be credible as an Australian. Something like that.
Outside its about 3 degrees C and humid: cold. The other day I had ice on my gloves while I was riding to work. In ten days, though, I'll be sitting on a veranda wearing shorts and sunnies, and relying on a cold beer to fight the 34 degrees and humid that have all ganged up on me at once. Its 10,000 miles away, but I've got a ticket to ride.
It's a funny world.
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2 comments:
I'll volunteer as well for France anyday - I'm none too keen on heading back to where cheese=chedder. View it as a paid language course!
If any of you can convince my PhD supervisor and my landlord to forgive me my obligations, you're on.
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