etnobofin

On a clear mediterranean day, Montpellier becomes a bichrome city like Oxford – yellow sandstone and deep blue sky. Taking photos of architecture becomes a question of finding the right proportion of blue and yellow in the frame. Maybe it’s Montpellier’s winter outfit – there’s very little green at this time of year. Or maybe after living here a little while you start to see other colours, too.

After a few days on the ground here, first impressions are positive: public transport (€40 a month for unlimited travel) is very easy to use, with sexy trams like in Grenoble and Strasbourg.  A relative paucity of supermarkets is made up for by épiceries and boulangeries absolutely everywhere (as one might expect in France I suppose).

Importantly, (in terms of future employment/business prospects), Montpellier has a fairly strong entrepreneurial base, with emphasis on technology and healthcare.  Hopefully, having already done the “settling-in” process once before in Oxford, some earlier mistakes can be avoided and I can start to build a network more quickly.

Speaking French again is like stumbling half-blind through a demolition yard, and it feels like I’m massacring the language every time I open my mouth (an excess of university-level French means that I wince as I hear myself groping for the correct grammar and vocabulary), but I’m sure it’ll get better.

So far, so good.  But one mystery has arisen.  I’ve never smoked in my life, so why does EVERYONE in this country ask me for cigarettes or a light?

Excusez-moi monsieur, vous avez une petite cigarette/un feu?

The question is asked at least three times a day. I’m getting very good at saying non.