Questionable Beginnings

Edinburgh repping in Munich

The following ramblings are directly copied from my notepad on a recent 13 hour coach trip from Berlin to Lille. ( I apologise in advance )

As I sit on this very cramped, old and frankly very disturbingly shaky bus surrounded by Turkish families and loud German boys, it dawned on me that I must be the last person on earth NOT to have a year abroad blog.

I have seen dozens of blogs ( most abandoned by the third week ) dedicated to make the reader feel unquestionably envious of their YA opportunity; however my friend, this will not be one of those blogs.

After talking to one of my friends on Skype- possibly the best online creation since Google ( remind self to become smart enough to invent something of worth akin to that of Mr Skypes ) -I realised that all these blogs don't deal with the truth of moving and studying abroad.                                                                      

A very French breakfast

Don't get my wrong- there has been a whole host of good times, Stein drinking, Dirndl buying, Baguette eating and the like, but nobody tells the heart wrenching truth. One example being how you plan a PERFECT outfit idea, only to have the key item left at home. Or the sheer AWKWARDNESS of the staff room.

So- mes amis- this is what I plan to do. Now; I'm not saying this will be any award winning writing and I'm not a writer, to be honest I couldn't even write an entertaining diary when I was 13, but I do hope to give a least an insight into the pain and suffering that does in plentiful amounts occur in a less than average YA.

So here it goes ; The things nobody tells you about on your Year Abroad

Before Germany won the World Cup