La vie a Anglet

Well, I’m here. Sat in my mini ‘apartment’ writing this.
I arrived yesterday at half ten. Dominique was not at the airport straight away, so a mini panic ensued. Had he received my email? What did he look like? Where was he going to be? Luckily, Biarritz airport is pretty small, so when he eventually arrived (after about fifteen minutes) he found me easily enough.
What ensued was a confusing conversation in the car, when he told me I wouldn’t be staying at Biarritz, but in fact, at Anglet. I don’t know how far it is from Biarritz, but not too far I should imagine, maybe ten minutes by car. I was then handed over to Frederique, his assistant at the station, who took me to Anglet. He seemed quite nice, when I insisted he call me ‘Sam’, it was all ‘Ah Sam, pour les amis!’ har de har etc etc.
However, I have come to realise that the people here are very laidback, so laidback they may as well be asleep. Frederique gave me very little instruction as to what I would be doing, one minute I was meant to be working in the evening, the next I wasn’t. He told me to go relax and someone would come get me, but no one ever came and I lay in this anxious state, worrying if I should sleep or not. I did manage to catch about 20 mins light doze which left me feeling dazed and more tired than before. When I went to ask him some questions (aka, can I have a bin for my room? (!), where do I do my washing?, what would I be doing that night?)He looked me straight in the face and asked ‘Tu veux quelque chose?’ (You want something ?) In a way that made me feel like a needy child.
Maybe I am too sensitive, and they are just used to letting people do their own thing.
I will certainly be doing a lot of my own thing, whilst at Anglet I’m working half 7pm until 1am in the ‘Scottish pub’ downstairs. I have the entire day to myself, to walk around, read, try and make friends with people on holiday who will just leave the week after etc etc. Sigh.
When I woke up this morning, my first thought was ‘I want to go home’. I miss Ben, I miss the reassuring feel of home, I miss my family. I was so certain in my need to go back. But then, I don’t know how, but I battled it out with my insecure self. A mantra of ‘I can do this’ kept ringing in my head. And in the end I had to write myself a promise to solidify this feeling:
‘I will stick it out for two months. If, and only if by the 1st November I still feel homesick, unsure and unwelcome, I will leave.’
It’s signed and dated.
Now just to see if I can keep this promise to myself.

Here are some pictures of my digs, you see it’s not all bad, at least I have my own shower with hot water. I’m going to try and find the supermarket now and buy some small comforts, if it’s sunny later I might even pop down to the beach. One can but try.

Leave me a nice comment??
:)