... my exchange's house. The journey to France made me realise that I would be in a foreign land. When I landed at Lyon airport the heat struck me like a wall. It seemed as if I had not studied a word of French when I first heard people speaking, and I had to be careful where I crossed the road, due to the cars driving on the left side of the road. The air smelt like stale cigarette smoke, and the pavement was hot, even penetrating through the soles of my shoes. My French exchange family greeted me with open arms but it was a great shock when they expected me to speak their language and to keep up with their conversations. On the journey to the apartment I could see young children playing football on the streets although it was late evening. I compared this to England where mothers ...

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