Reflections of « une étrangère » in France
(Image credits to author)
I had created immense pressure for myself leading up to the Year Abroad. It was either going to be the best year of my life (as people kept telling me) or a year spent wishing I had chosen another course and was back in Cambridge. Despite meticulously planning my placements in early 2024 and having several melancholy conversations with friends about my impending déménagement, the Year Abroad initially felt like a collection of abstract conversations. As my first study placement is ending, I am keen to share my experiences, lessons and culture shocks- and to prove that this 'Year Abroad anxiety' certainly didn't warrant the existential crisis I had in June.
20th August 2024: the day I traded life in London and Cambridge for Aix-en-Provence. A buzzy university town north of Marseille, Aix became my new home as I studied at the Université d'Aix-Marseille, joining its 88,000 students- vastly different from Cambridge’s 22,000.
I remember downloading Océane Andrea’s podcast ‘Le changement’ for the plane, featuring the quote, "nothing changes if nothing changes”. In her words, ‘Le changement nous permet de grandir personnellement, d’apprécier les choses et de les gérer’. Equipped with this nouvelle mentalité, I felt ready to embrace this new beginning - and, more immediately, to face the 35-degree heat. It was the height of summer in Aix, le cœur du pays ensoleillé. The relentless sunshine beat down on the Roman streets, teeming with people (my parents and I now among them). This was nothing unusual for a summer Tuesday afternoon in the South of France. Most striking, however, was that le bonheur provençal was unmistakably alive and well.
(Image credits to author)
Just thirty minutes away via a 2-euro bus pass, you arrive in Marseille. Despite the geographical proximity, Marseille offers a wealth of attractions that stand in stark contrast to Aix: the historic Vieux-Port, the hilltop Basilique Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde and the breathtaking beauty of the Massif des Calanques, a pristine haven of nature.
Le Petit Nice, Marseille Calanque de Sormiou (Image credits to author)
These two cities, often pitted against each other, represent two wildly different facets of Frenchness as we know it. It is no secret that Marseille’s graffitied walls juxtapose Aix’s polished promenades but their differences stem from their unique histories. Founded in 600 BC as Massalia, Marseille is France’s oldest city, while Aix was established as Aqua Sextiae by the Romans. Certainly, it is not unheard of to hear Aix described as posh or snooty, nor for Marseille to be branded as dirty or rough. Equally, some universal factors assimilate the two; for example, the men are not exactly known for their subtlety or restraint... Yet, such characterizations barely scratch the surface of their identities. I think what is most notable about Provence is the sheer diversity it offers within such proximity. Whether it’s Marseille’s impressive friperie scene that piques your interest, a sunny randonnée up the famous Sainte-Victoire, or a leisurely day perusing Aix’s Musée Granet, there is something for everybody.
It has been a privilege to get to know another place in the world as much as I know Cambridge. Free cultural activities are in abundance: tri-weekly markets offering local produce and affordable clothes, free museum access for students, and events such as le marché gourmand des vignerons making it possible to discover local produits artisanaux. Most impressive was the Biennale d’Aix which featured an incredible light show that illuminated the entire length of Cours Mirabeau. Christmas time in Aix was equally magical. The city’s festive light installations provided the perfect backdrop for a tambourine parade, with members of the public carrying lanterns and handing out free vin chaud and chocolat chaud.
(Image credits to author)
Beyond Aix, it has not been difficult to find this bonheur provençal in other parts of the region. Cassis, Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, and Salon-de-Provence are just some of the places I have been fortunate enough to visit. I have also had the chance to indulge in Provençal Rosé; a highlight of mine being a wine-tasting experience at the Château Paradis vineyard near Aix. As expected, I was pleasantly surprised by how affordable it was.
1) Salon-de-Provence 2) Cassis (Image credits to author)
Equally integral to my year abroad experience has been putting Cambridge as a university into perspective. The dichotomy between the laissez-faire nature of the French university system and the academic rigor of its students is unmistakable. The former can be attributed to the state-funded nature of French universities, which grants most the financial freedom to attend. This inclusivity results in massive student populations and the frequent lack of contact with staff members has often left me feeling lost.
On the other hand, French students’ dedication to their studies is striking. Whilst coffee and cigarette breaks are frequent, so is their focus on preparing for high-stakes exams. I learnt that some face make-or-break exams even in their first year; one friend had an exam that would determine whether she could continue pursuing a medicine degree or would be redirected to anthropology. I am not refuting the known fact that Cambridge is academically challenging. However, it seems that constant examination and a ‘survival of the fittest’ attitude characterise French university whereas, for English students, final-year exams are the most important.
University law campus in Aix-en-Provence (Image credits to author)
Not too dissimilar from Cambridge though, I had naturally anticipated experiencing some form of imposter syndrome during my year abroad. However, I quickly realized it extended far beyond academia, seeping into nearly every aspect of daily life. My encounters with French people have been somewhat varied, with my nationality greeted by reactions ranging from indifference to aversion to even intrigue. Other than the occasional stranger on the street who would rather ‘amusingly’ tell me to go back to England, it was my name - Poppy - that sparked the most émerveillement among les francophones. Originally a light-hearted blague, a novelty that seemed to connect me to les Français and briefly granted me a raison d’être, it quickly became tiresome. I might have even considered temporarily changing my name to something quintessentially French - perhaps Camille - just for practicality’s sake.
I still remember the first time I was introduced as “une étrangère’ to a group of French people. The term, no doubt, was meant as a mere description, free of any malice, but it made me feel more out of place than ever. For once, it was not my name that counted, but the unavoidable fact of my foreignness.
I had spent much of my time in France trying to blend in, hoping desperately that people might mistake me for une Française. I’ve since come to realise how futile this is. Some degree of adaptation feels necessary, of course - personally, I’ve grown weary of speaking English too loudly in public places so as to not draw unnecessary attention to myself. At the same time, however, I’ve decided to embrace my ‘étrangère’ status. Some might say easier said than done; I don’t disagree. Reconciling my anglophone identity with my francophone environment has often felt impossible - especially when Irish pubs seem inescapable, or when an accent wobble prompts a cashier’s inevitable in ‘Vous venez d’où?’. Although I have not yet fully integrated ‘genre’ and ‘du coup’ into my everyday speech, nor have I mastered the lyrics to Bande organisée, it is the small, everyday experiences that have defined my year abroad: whether that be the awkward (but essential) faire la bise or the swapping of my painfully English ‘sorry’ for ‘pardon’ in public spaces. Although less glamourous in nature, these are the moments that have shaped my time in France and that have made me reconsider the relation of my English identity to my language learning adventure.
‘C’est hyper important de ne pas avoir peur d’aller toucher ces petits changements parce que ce sont des choses qui vont nous amener vers des versions nous-mêmes qu’on n’aurait jamais rencontré’ - Océane Andrea