'A little less conversation, a little more action...'

The above title was the theme of the week as I suffered even more excruciating 3 hours talks about what we were GOING to do in studio rather than actually starting the work! Little did I know that by mid-week I would be eating these words, brought to my knees by a strong accent and a weak tongue, the latter of course belonging to me!

Studio work actually started on Tuesday and it was fine. I've made my first friend who doesn't speak English-horrah!! The wonderfully friendly Italien Chiara (pronouced khey-aragh) threw me a lifeline in a small class of strangers and I was extremely greatful. (do unfriendly Italiens exist? I love them all!) Needless to say the conversation was a bit of a stop/start effort but we got there in the end!! She even invited me to join her and her friends one of the weekends just to get some french speaking practice in. Sweet! And good God I need all the practice I can get. That point was hammered home in no uncertain terms this afternoon in college.

Its was after 2pm and already I was late for my first appearance at AEDD (architecture, environment and durable development). I should note that this is the second week of the semester but due to the on-going reshuffling of subject choices this was my first class. (i should also add that the re-shuffling is on-going, but that's a blog entry for another day!) Anyway it worked out fine, I arrived at exactly the same time as the lecturer so I was home free. The lecture starts. I sit back, absorbing the chatter, waiting to grasp the general direction of the conversation. It doesn't come though. I try to pick out words but there's nothing. I listen closely to that clear Parisian accent I've come to expect and suddenly realise that its not clear at all. Ugh, if I could just stop that nasal whine! 'Don't panic, don't panic' - this mantra usually gets me through the small chaotic moments of my life; but these moments have lately become so regular as to fuse into a constant loop, a continuous, confusing, language maze. Now don't get me wrong. There ARE advantages to being this wonderfully ignorant of what's going on around you!! (to name but a few: insults fly over your head, deadlines don't phase you as you generally don't know that there IS a dealine, charities, scammers and homeless people can be shunned with a blank stare and a quick 'sorry-don't speak french' etc etc)

Anyway back to the class. Its four hours long. FOUR HOURS! These people LOVE to talk. Thankfully its the first class this week in which we actually take a break in the middle so I get to go outside for a minute and get a bit of fresh air (more correctly, i get to share in the cancer cloud that surrounds my fellow smoking classmates) Back to the seminar again and I quickly run up to the professor, explain in toddler french that I'm an erasmus student, please sign this and put me on your class list. Here's a copy of my passport, birth cert, registration, social number, address, references, jeans size, essay i wrote in primary school etc etc. Ok that last sentence was was a fib but you get my meaning!! She does all that and asks me one question: 'where are you from?'' All I hear is static. Huh? I figure it out, blurt out a weak 'Irlande' then scuttle back to the protection of my seat in the midst of the class. The static now gets louder and the class hushes. We're back to work. To say I was focused on the lecture at this point is stretching the truth just a little more than flexibility will allow. I was in my own world. 'Tonight I'm gonna check for cheap flights for the end of May, must get home for the Rory Gallagher Festival/Ballyshannon Session Extraordinaire!! I've been meaning to do it all week.' The sound of rustling pages brought me back to the classroom and suddenly everyone was writing. What the hell was going on? A minute later I manage to grasp the professor say 'We'll discuss it here rather than writing it down' or something to that effect. 'Who wants to start?'

PANIC sets in. Absolute, blind, crazy panic. What were we supposed to be writing and discussing? Oh no, I'm screwed. Not only do I not know what we're writing about but I'm gonna have to speak about it to the prof in front of the class, and I don't understand her! That converstaion was not my idea of fun, especially in front of 30 odd students. The time to focus had come. What were they discussing? Think damn it, think! Ok its something to do with memoirs (dissertations) but I had no idea what that was at the time. Common sense kicked in, it must be an essay of some kind. The first student starts talking. I pick up something about a public park - oh god no - the prof is responding to the student and the student is replying back again - oh no its a full blown conversation. Where's the exit? FOCUS!! The next student is a low speaker, the one after that has a weird accent, the one after that talks way too fast, the one after that, no wait, something about transport -huh? The poeple who have spoken start to outnumber those who haven't. I stare at my blank page... A last minute burst of energy and panic kicks in and I start scribbling furiously. Ok I think its something about finding a project that you want to investigate with regards to sustainable development. I want to pick something unique but how can I do that when I don't even know what everyone else has suggested? This is my first class, I'm unprepared, no fair!!

The people at my desk start talking. Crunch time is nearly here. Then I have an idea. Now all I need is simple French to explain it in as concise a manner as possible. It comes in bits but eventually I jot it down. Then suddenly its all over. The prof is bored, calls an end to the class saying 'could those who haven't spoken please submit your idea on a page.' I know; you're wondering how I understood this, right? Well the professor looked bored, announced something quickly, everyone started packing up and some people were handing up written notes. I ran up to see what they said then ran back to jot my down afresh, without all the crossed out words! Then I finally left, legged it to the metro and got home in no time at all. I've been supping red wine since to calm my nerves. I wonder what they'll think of my suggestion? Guess I'll find out next week. This is what I wrote:

''The House of Yesterday''-an investigation of protected and historic buildings and how we can develop ecological and sustainble schemes for their uses and occupation now, and in the future''

What can of choas will this wreck for me next week? I'll keep you all posted...