My French course this week has been really tough.
I asked my teacher this morning if she thought I was in the right class for me, and she said she thought I was, and I’ve found it harder this week because it’s revision week for the students that will be moving up a class next week. At least, that’s what I think she said, as it was all in French. Lots of the stuff we’ve been touching on briefly and at great speed has been completely new to me, but it’s been good to be introduced to new content. The next level is really a step up, French literature and other high brow stuff, and I’m really not motivated to get that far. I’m quite happy going through the treasure trove of Tintin and Lucky Luke comic books I’ve found in the bookshelf of my host family. I also watched a French film with no subtitles the other day (The Count of Monte Cristo – recommended) and understood 90% of what was going on, so really I’m nearly where I want to be.
It’s taken me forty years to finally advance beyond the level I reached at high school. If only I’d stuck it out another year instead of switching to geography. What use is knowledge of “slash and burn agriculture” and “urban conurbation” to me now?? A wasted youth. Sigh. Actually, seeing all the confident and adventurous young people around me here, it’s the painful shyness and introversion that really stopped me fully taking advantage of my youth. On the other hand, not socialising and being conscientious and studious got me into medical school, which has allowed me to be here now, so maybe I shouldn’t complain.
Speaking of wasted time, I found this online:
It seems that learning Italian is not going to help me get by in Sardinia at all (see Sardinian, top right). Hey ho. I’m sure there’s nothing I could have done to prevent me from standing out as a tourist.
I’ve spent two afternoons at the hospital and they’ve been very valuable. It’s a very pleasant work environment, and as always, it’s the people that make it so. Everyone is lovely, funny, and charming. They are more experienced and slicker at the procedures I watched them do – no wonder as it’s a world leading centre for interventional neuroradiology – but in fact I think we do it better in NZ. They are slick to the point of being slapdash. Communication is poor and they are much less cautious than us. I never saw anyone do any of the WHO safety checks that are routine in NZ and many other countries, for example . I saw at least one slip, when the anaesthetist forgot to turn on the anaesthetic gas. I think we should be proud of ourselves.