Teen TimesLet's start with the basics. I'm 16, and in September I'm starting the big L. I'm learning French in school and have always taken an active interest in the language and the culture. This year, I decided to stay in France and engross myself in the language. So I booked a course and packed my bags. After parting from my parents, I left on a jet plane, looking over my shoulder at the sodding rain. I exclaimed a guffaw of pleasure.

My first impression was surprising - the rain felt exactly the same in France. I realised I was an hour behind, so I quickly fixed my watch and strode with determination, with my bag a burden, to find my new family for the next couple of weeks.

I stood quietly in the corner as the names were called, not understanding a word of what was being said. They could have been talking about Bugs Bunny for all I knew. My name was called and I looked at my adopted mother. She looked nice but nothing like I imagined - dark, like all French, but with a big smile and a warm hug. I felt welcome. I spent the rest of the day exploring the town and finding out the names of others who had embarked on this foreign adventure. "Some ride," we were already saying.

I had been given some very important advice from a wise man: "Whatever they put in front of you, you have to eat. There's no going around it or grabbing a bicky when everyone has left." I had stocked up before I had arrived and was prepared for the worst.

My French had started splattering out like an engine roaring to life. A "oui" here and a "bonjour" there. All I had learnt off by heart was "j'ai bien mangé". This means "I am totally full", a handy phrase that can be used a lot. They had started jabbering away to me as I sat there and I nodded my head in total agreement with everything. I still don't know what I was nodding at.

But life went on and and I had my starter - they have a starter with every meal. Then I moved on to the main, and I stomached it all. I took a whiff of the cheese and looked up at the sky for the big man to dull my taste buds.

You may wonder why I'm making such a big deal about the food, and especially the cheese, but when you're 16 it's all that matters. I took another glass of water and ate the cheese. I couldn't believe it: I liked it. I even had another piece, and then my perfect "j'ai bien mangé" came out.

Dinner in France begins at 8pm and finishes around 9pm. I thought I would be able to stay up and be restless for another couple of hours, then sleep in till 10am. Imagine the surprise when I received a "bon nuit" at 10.30pm. I couldn't believe it; even the 17-year-old son turned in. I stayed up till a "late" 11pm, then hit the sack. The sound of my mother calling me at 7am shook me awake. I rose like a troll from under the bridge, and sat down at the breakfast table without knowing where I was or how I had got there. Then the world hit me with a big bowl of chocolate/coffee/milk.

I was lucky on the first day: the 17-year-old gave me a lift on his auto (motorbike). It really was the ride of my life. We weaved and ducked in the streets and shouted "bonjour" to passing friends. I couldn't believe the difference: in France, teenagers have motorbikes just as teenagers in Ireland have phones. You're really not anybody unless you have one.

I arrived in my learning building (literally translated). I went in and actually learnt some proper French, including grammar, and fell out in a daze. My brain was zapped. I glared up at the dark clouds, my shorts seeming that little bit sillier. My life of learning in France had begun and I had faced it with an open mind. I feel it's just a little more closed now. My misadventures will finish here. À la prochain fois.

Conor Mulloy (16) is a student at St Joseph's College in Galway

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