When I saw an ad for a library assistant at the English department of a university in Montpellier, I eagerly sent in my CV. I was lucky enough to get the job, but really I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Some Francophiles may find this hard to believe but I had never even heard of Montpellier before. I also wondered how exactly I would improve my French in a position where I would not be allowed to talk. Feeling unsure but curious, I arrived in Montellier in September 2017 ready to accept whatever came my way, and keen to explore an unfamiliar city.
My concerns about improving my French quickly turned out to be unfounded. Ironically enough I did more talking in the library than anywhere else during my year abroad, since not only were my fellow librarians eager to talk to me, but our boss was even more so. With so many conversations I could feel my French rapidly improving in those first few months. This was helped enormously by my colleagues, who were able to serve as interpreters whenever I hit a language barrier. I showed my gratitude by proofreading their academic work (in fact I almost had a second job as an editor).
My time in Montpellier was not limited to the library though. I also spent a lot of time singing in two different choirs, both of which made me feel very welcome and taught me a bit about the culture. From one choir I learnt about the bizarre concept of punctuality in southern France; whereas we had to be strictly on time to rehearsals, at social gatherings you’d want to be an hour late at the earliest. I also learnt that while their proverbial love of wine is in fact real, unlike us, the French tend to drink in moderation. My choir friends were shocked to see my brother get through two pints in twenty minutes.
However, I did also face a few challenges in France. The worst was when I broke my arm during the Christmas holiday but was then alone in Montpellier for the whole recovery. When it came time to remove the cast, I had a slightly unnerving encounter with the French medical system because our techniques of plaster application were not familiar to them and I didn’t understand all the medical jargon. Admittedly that was the only ‘real’ problem I had though. Still, honourable mentions go to travelling in overcrowded trams with a broken arm, and lugging washing up the hill from the laundrette (up the ‘Mont’ of Montpellier).
There is no doubt that any and all difficulties were amply made up for by the benefits of living in Montpellier. I had heard the rumours that the French were cold and arrogant, but that could not have been further from the truth in my experience. Nelson Mandela once famously said that if you talk to a man in a language he understands, it goes to his head, but if you talk to him in his own language, it goes to his heart; during my time in Montpellier I saw this play out time and time again. I could not have hoped for a better year abroad, and plan to work in France again after graduation.