The whisky-fuelled misadventures of Genjamin Bell

I'm finally back in France after the Christmas holidays, and it's definitely been an interesting couple of weeks. We had a huge family gathering, an amazing Christmas together and best of all, everything was in a language I actually understood for once. But probably the most blog-worthy event of my two weeks in England was our New Year celebrations, which I spent looking after a friend who may have inadvertently drunk a little bit too much. For the purposes of maintaining his anonymity and dignity, in this blog I'll be calling him... 'Genjamin.' Or 'Genjamin Bell,' to be polite and give him his full name. Anyway, quite early on in the evening Genjamin decided for some reason that downing a full glass of neat whisky was a good idea.

Needless to say, it wasn't. A few minutes later, we found ourselves explaining to an ambulance crew in great detail how he'd fallen down the stairs, burnt his mouth trying to smoke the lit end of a cigarette and then collapsed in a particularly pungent heap. Indeed, when we finally arrived at the hospital one doctor refused to treat him until someone had found some Febreze because "you could get drunk just sniffing that." Regardless, I ended up spending four hours on New Year's Eve by a hospital bedside, bringing in 2013 itself with a hug from a sympathetic doctor and a bite-size Mars from the bottom of a box of Celebrations.

Oh, Genjamin

Anyway, having spent the first few hours of the new year watching paralytic, vomit-drenched 15-year-olds being stretchered into A&E back in the UK, I've finally returned back across the channel to a country that, unlike England, definitely doesn't have any sort of under-age drinking culture whatsoever. Thank God for that. I've also managed to move into my new place nearer the city centre without too much trouble- apart from almost murdering the neighbours' cat after accidentally locking it in our house over the holidays with no food or water, it's gone pretty much without a hitch. I've got an actual house to live in, an actual fridge to keep my food in, some really cool housemates and the neighbours' cat is still alive and well... if maybe a little wary of coming anywhere near our house ever again. Things are on the UP.

Not only that, but after only a few days, living with French people 24/7 has already shown me a completely different side to France. I've spent the last few months making cursory visits to tourist hotspots, ordered the same old overpriced drinks in touristy pubs and spent far too much time speaking English, just like the lazy tourist I'd always tried so hard not to be. I've had an amazing time over the last few months, but in terms of what I've achieved and learnt it's all been worryingly superficial. Much like reading the script for an adult video, you get the idea- but not the point.

But over the last three or four days I think I've learnt as much French as I did in the entirety of last term (ie not as much as I could have) and I've started to learn a bit more about some of the little quirks of French life beyond chain-smoking and drinking wine with every meal. I've been watching French TV, read French newspapers, listened to French music and (more predictably) gone out to socialise in actual French bars. Perhaps the biggest revelation has been the demi-pêche, a neat little combination of lager and sirop de pêche which somehow achieves the impossible and makes even Kronenbourg taste genuinely amazing. I've still yet to try and see whether or not it makes Fosters drinkable, but I'm not optimistic- even miracles only go so far.

But regardless, a couple of days of French immersion and it's become painfully clear that what I've learnt over the last few months has barely scratched the surface of what I could (and should) have been doing all along- stop living like an Englishman and embrace the local culture for once. In the same way that doing some weed and fucking a hooker doesn't mean you've 'done' Amsterdam, excessive Camembert and passive smoking doesn't mean I've learnt anything significant about life in France either. With the new year comes the perfect opportunity for fresh starts, so as terrifying as it sounds my resolution is simple.

When in France...
...do as the French do.

Bordeaux, fucking bring it.