#ONLYINNICE

While Nice may be a romantic getaway for besotted couples, the only relationship I have in Nice is with my wine collection on the upper shelf in my living room. So if you expected this post to be about love, sorry to disappoint! Nonetheless, I dedicate this post to my " coup de foudre" ( and to other extreme Mediterranean weather elements).  "Coup de foudre".  I don't understand why the French named this thrilling phenomenon of love at first sight after the frightning wrath of the gods on a sticky summer night. A  coup de foudre, or better known as an ordinary lightning strike, is what befell (and luckily not fell on ) me here in Nice on a rainy Sunday night. It struck so closeby that, as it hit, it shook my body, deafened my ears and blinded my eyes. I swear, this bang, it's nothing you've heard (or felt) before, and after that, a long, creeping silence. Result: no electricity, total darkness. Was I in a horror movie? For a moment, it felt like ...

I fell in love with France at a very young age. Every year, my parents and I would travel the country with our little caravan, visiting historical sites and admiring magnificent landscapes. And, as I explained in " Preface" , some places can leave such a deep impression on you, they can touch your soul so profoundly, that a little piece of your heart is left behind there. One of the places is the  Gorges du Verdon, a national park in the south of France that hosts an awe-inspiring river canyon. So when I talked about this jewel of unspoilt nature, my German squad was immediately up for a roadtrip through the long and winding roads of the Gorges du Verdon. And I knew they would not be disappointed... The Gorges  is a 25 kilometre-long canyon where, at certain points about 700 meters below, a sky-blue river gracefully flows down towards the breathtaking Lac de Sainte-Croix, only to continue its journey through the steep and narrow limestone cliffs, passing by historical villa...

Ich will noch ein bisschen mit meinen Deutsche Freunden tanzen! - No idea if this is even correct, because after all these weeks of hanging out with my German squad, I'm still as awful at German as I was at highschool... But at least I can ask a guy to buy me a beer now. Let's talk about what Erasmus is all about: beer! Kidding - friendship, of course.  Belgium and Germany. What an odd couple. Of all people I was expecting to meet here in Nice, I never thought I would become friends with "the Germans". Somehow, I found them too normal, not exotic enough. Before my arrival, I had this image of me hanging out with the  Niçois,  or some other mediterrean species like Spaniards or Italians. Instead, I found them to be quite upon themselves... Slightly disappointed, I turned to the expats: Germans. History has taught us that Germans come in large numbers (s orry for the joke, Germans ), so at some inevitable point, I would have to face them. So when one day I ...

La fac: slowly decaying since 1967. I'll admit, I'm a sixties lover, but not when it comes to university infrastructure. The French toilets on the  Aires de repos  a are cleaner. My classroom from 1st grade in elementary school used to be more equipped than my current ones. And did I mention the non-existing airconditioning? Got to love  la Fac  when it's 30 degrees outside!  I wish I could say being at  la Fac  was worth the bloody  ligne 22- busride, but unfortunatly, it isn't. You've just been sandwiched in an overcrowded bus, then get squeezed out, only to come across your first obstacle: the stairs. After climbing the stairs, you present your student card to the  watch dog,  who has the most ungrateful job in the world: checking grumpy student's student cards and probably scaring off possible terrorists. With no weapon. And a hawaii shirt and shorts. Very convincing.  Oh, how I pity him. Which is why I broug...

In the beginning of September, Nice was such a vibrant, sunny and touristy city that I almost forgot I actually had some business  to attend to. But eleven days after my arrival, I had to say goodbye to my sweet honeymoon and face my inevitable fate: ma vie à la Fac... Like every newbee at university, I was quite stressed those first days. Luckily, I had already gone to the Faculté de Lettres, Arts et Sciences Humaines - being an Erasmus student, they asked me to arrive a few days in advance to sort out administrative stuff.  One should think that, when they expect you to arrive earlier than the regular students, things will go faster. But if there are 200 Erasmus students enrolled, it's quite the contrary. After this first week, I visited the first floor of the H-wing once too many, since no matter how early I went to the International Office, there would always be a long long line of Erasmus students, thrilled (and less thrilled) to get enrolled. Fin...

In case you haven't noticed, I’m a romantic. Born and raised in a forest, I shun chaos, noise and crowds (Except for Rock Werchter), for they bring misery, stress and destruction. So being a romantic anno 2017 isn't easy, for everything happens in the City.   The City  is everywhere. Grey and concrete, she rises from the ground, repelling every last bit of nature, radiating only pollution. Roots are replaced by foundations, plants by people, harmony by chaos. No, I don't like cities. But if you want to work, study or make a career, you need to go to the City, because progress and prosperity awaits there .  So I inevitably had to go and live in  the City.  But how would I survive in the fifth largest city of France? No friend has ever heard me say " I could actually live her e " when talking about cities. But despite my negative expectations and attitude towards cities, I could actually live in Nice. In fact, I absolutely adore Nice. Colourful instaed of gre...

Isn't it nice to wake up, turn on your phone and see that you got 10 texts, 10 WhatsApp voice messages and another 10 missed calls? Ah, the appeal of popularity. But for all the wrong reasons... They were all my mom's and dad's and some were from the real estate agency I rented my appartment at. After having read the texts, I did not even do the effort to listen to the voice messages, for they were all saying the same thing. It started quite reasonable, really:  How was it? Did you get home safely ? But it quickly escalated into 5 question marks: A re you home????? Elise????? You promised to text me when you got home!!!!! Whenever I used to go out in Ghent, my parents hardly ever asked me if I got home safely. But since I was in Nice, or apparently,  The Bronx , they were panicking because at 9 o'clock in the morning, I had not yet sent them a message because of the simple reason that I was still asleep and unaware of that fact that, at that very mo...

Thursday 31 August. Lille Aeroport. Early afternoon. My dad, my stepmother and my best friend waving me goodbye. Trying not to cry. After all, why would I? I was kicking off my Erasmus honeymoon! A honeymoon. That's how I like to refer to it. Not that I'm experienced in that field, but I might have some idea after having watched too many  romcoms. Those first days where all is well and overwhelming... Visiting the city, exploring the counrty, meeting new people, soaking up the sun, going out, sleeping in, sipping coctails at the beach and most importantly: no school! I fell in love with Nice, and after all those months, I still am.  Of course, not all was cakes and ales. First of all, my aeroplane was delayed, which forced me to take a 40-euro taxi to my future home I had never seen before, where I had an appointment to do the état des lieux with a woman I did not know . Sweaty, hungry and exhausted from my travels, I arrived at the Ruelle . A woman was awaiti...

What I like about day -1 is that things can't get any worse than that. Any experience that follows, which in my case was my Erasmus, would automatically be a better one. So when I woke op on day 1, I actually felt good - set aside the shivers running down my spine or the gastric acid moving up my throat. It was the start of an adventure! As for me, honestly admitted, I never even went through a Day -1-phase. At least not on Day -1. On Day -1, I actually felt quite good, simply because I had been travelling for the past month and had never been home for literally one day. So when I got home from my latest adventure -  only 4 days before my departure to Nice, the unfamiliar ritual of unpacking and packing my backs and the unfamiliar feeling of knowing I would not be home for a long time, felt oddly familiar. In fact, I even felt safe. Safe, because I was going to live in a country I knew rather well, a country I would even want to move to. Safe, because I knew I wasn't going ...

Day -1 ~ the day you call yourself an idiot for what you will be doing on day 1.  Day -1. Your last day at home. It's the day you give up on your plans and want to lie in bed and watch netflix. And so, you give up on your plans, you lie in bed and you watch netflix - at least until your mother discovers your guilty pleasure, drags you out of bed and reminds you that you still have 4 suitcases to fill with only 1/10 of your actual wardrobe and even worse - 1/20 of your shoe collection. Speaking of procrastination and hoarding disorders. Day -1. Your last day in a civilised world. Because, up there,  who knows what you will find? It's the day you still have an appointment at your GP to do a last "check-up", an other at your physiotherapist to check if your body will be able to bear all the luggage you will drag along and in between, you run to the pharmacist to buy as much painkillers as possible. One for every day of your stay. Because after all, you expect ...

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place" - Miriam Adeney Two years, nearly three it has been. Costa Rica. And I still can't let go of it. It has been the greatest adventure of my life, the most enriching experience in every single way. But much like the quote stated above explains, it has had a consequence. I haven't found peace since. Ever since my return from Costa Rica, I have been suffering from an inner restlessness. Somewhere between my lungs and my heart, there's a gap, an odd sensation that makes me feel uneasy. And for a long time, I wondered what exactly this gap represented. I felt an urge, but what for? Coming across this quote, I realised I had just found out. By travelling to the other side of the world ,  I simply lost my heart. In vain, I tried to find what felt missing. But the more I t...