Mountains, Mountains, Mountains!

As a girl from Iowa, mountains have always fascinated me.  Oddly enough, my first thought when I see a mountain for the first time in a while usually is, “Wow…I wonder how much that thing weighs!”  Here in Chambéry, we are nestled nicely into the mountains.  They aren’t huge ones (not big enough to have snow caps), but they’re a beautiful sight while we walk to school in the morning.  We’ve recently had two mountainous adventures, and both were blog-worthy!  So this post will be split into two parts:  Mont Blanc and Parapente.  Here we go!

Mont Blanc

Mont Blanc was gorgeous from every
angle!

Last weekend (June 25^th), we took a bus trip to Chamonix, a charming little town at the base of Mont Blanc, the tallest mountain in the European Union.  The town itself was full of tourist shops and restaurants, and we often heard passers-by speaking English.  To be honest, that was pretty bizarre.  I have become so used to hearing French in the streets that English seems out of place.

 We took a cute red train to the “Sea of Ice” glacier on top of one of the mountains.  The train ride was great!  It was bouncy and kind of slow, and we went through tunnels as it climbed the mountain.  I felt like I was on a roller coaster, and often had to remind myself that the situation was real.

Inside the glacier there were colored
lights.

The views from the mountain were indescribable.  I could’ve spent an hour sitting on a bench, looking around.  Instead, though, we took a cable car half way down to the glacier.  After the cable car, we descended a humongous staircase to the entrance of the glacier itself.  The staircase was obviously pieced together over time, and there were periodical signs on the rocks denoting the level of the glacier in intervals of five years.  It was kind of sad to see how quickly it is melting, but I’m sure it’s aided by all the touristic activity.  I learned later that Dad went to the same glacier when he was in high school, and it’s incredible to think that he probably only had to descend one small staircase, not the hundreds of stairs that we braved.

The “Sea of Ice” was gorgeous!  The inside was lit with colored lights, and there was a bedroom and kitchen carved into the ice.  It was a great experience.

Parapente

A couple of our friends ready to land

I can already tell that being here without anyone that I know has helped me grow.  It has been a good exercise in thinking for myself, searching myself, and discovering everything that I am capable of.  It has certainly required courage and willpower.  A test of my courage came on Tuesday the 28^th.  Our animateur (the guy who schedules all of our excursions) scheduled a trip for 12 students to go paragliding.  Living in the mountains, I suppose this was inevitable.  I signed up, and was really excited to give it a try!

As the day approached, I got more and more excited, but there was still that voice in the back of my head saying, “Are you crazy?  You’re really going jump off of a mountain with a stranger in a foreign country?”  Yes.  That’s what I did.

The jump zone from the top...the
ground is way down there!

The paragliding site was next to one of the big, beautiful lakes in the area.  There were three pilots for us, so groups of three students at a time were bused to the jump site on the top of one of the surrounding mountains.  For most of the time to wait, the other nine of us lounged in the landing zone (a grassy field surrounded by trees), talked, watched people land, and watched for our classmates.  We looked up at the mountains and said, “That looks a lot shorter than I pictured.”  Silly us.

I was in the fourth and final group to go.  As each group landed, there was a wide range of reactions from “I’m going to puke” to “It wasn’t crazy enough for me” to “Wow, that was AWESOME!” so I didn’t really know how to feel or what to expect.  We hopped in the van, and off we went!

Our jump zone is that light clearing.

It was about a 30 minute drive from the ground to the jump site.  Every now and then, Alyssa and I would catch a glance of the ground, and we quickly realized that we were crazy to think the mountain was too short.  We were getting so far off the ground!  The van was full of our three pilots, we three students, and Guillaume (our animateur).  The entire time, it was loud French banter.  I was unnaturally calm.

At the top, we were paired with pilots, handed our large back-pack-like harness, and were led out onto the jump pad.  That’s when my nerves came.  There are no words to explain the view from the little flight pad.  As soon as I cleared the trees, I saw a large patch of Iowa-esque gravel at a steep decline to the edge of the mountain, pilots setting up their canopies on the gravel, paragliders in the air, and finally, the ground waaaaaaaay in the background.  We were so high! 

Cedric took this one - he insisted.
I was afraid he'd drop my camera, but
it was fine, and kind of a cute photo!

Cedric, my pilot, was clearly amused by my amazement at the sight.  He just came over, gave me my helmet, and set up my harness while I oogled at what was going on around me.  My harness was much like a large backpacking pack with a loop harness around my thighs, clips across my torso, a camera holder on my chest, and a large rounded chair that hung to the back of my knees.  My pilot was clipped to a strap in the middle of my back.  Kyle (my friend) and his pilot were ready to go before Cedric and me, so we got to see him take off.  Something went wrong, and Kyle slid on his behind down the gravel for a few feet toward the edge.  Cedric was explaining how to take off, and all he really said (in French) was, “Run forward, definitely not like that (pointing to Kyle).  Do you understand?  That is forbidden.  It’s very dangerous.  Just run.”  Ok.  Just run.  Got it.  As Kyle’s pilot was re-arranging his canopy, Cedric and I were ready to go.  He told me to go, and I ran straight for the edge of the mountain.  Suddenly, he yanked me backwards and the canopy fell.  I was pretty scared, as we were maybe four feet from the edge.  I asked if it was my fault, but the wind just wasn’t right.  Cedric unclipped himself from me and went back up to get re-situated.  He left me on the edge.  I was terrified, and when I moved my feet the gravel would shift under them.  As I was down there, Kyle took off.  I could hear him yelling, and was getting nervous.  Preferring not to fall off the edge of the mountain, I just waited there until Cedric told me to come back up.  I hurried up and grabbed his hand before I could fall.

Take 2:  He told me to run, and I did.  Soon, the ground just disappeared from under my feet.  Crazy!  I was flying!  Cedric pushed me around a little until I was sitting on my chair piece, and we were good to go.

There are no words to accurately describe flight.  It’s a great sensation, and I would suggest it to everyone I know that is not afraid of heights.

Cedric and I in the air!  He insisted on
photos while we were up there, and I
am glad we got some!

Cedric and I chatted a little in French, but we were mostly quiet.  As soon as he discovered that I was not going to get sick, he started to have fun with our flight.  We did spins and loops in the air!  The view was always amazing, and he pointed out the surrounding cities to me.  He even let me drive for a little bit, though I was reluctant.

After about 30 minutes, we landed on our feet in the grassy field.  Andy, one of our friends, was waiting at the bottom with an ice cream for me, an ice cream for Alyssa, and a beer for Kyle.  It was the best ice cream I’ve had in a long time, and it made the day perfect.

Of the entire experience, the only time that I was truly scared was when I was out on the edge of the mountain by myself.  The flight itself was serene and beautiful and fun.  Even the landing was fun.  I hope to go again someday, though I don’t think I’ll ever drive.

Living in the mountains here has allowed us to have these two great adventures.  Every week gives us something new to do!  

La Vie Quotidienne

 It’s the official half-way point of my program here in Chambéry, and I can’t believe how quickly time has flown!  I realized that thus far in my French adventure, I have only told the stories of trips outside of Chambéry.  I haven’t told you, the loyal readers of my blog who are supporting and rooting for me back home, about our everyday life here.  This post is dedicated to the beautifully relaxing slow days in this French city that I am growing to love.

For starters: Chambéry is located here, in the French Alps on the south-east side of the country, pretty close to Italy.

Our shared kitchen

I live in an apartment-style residence hall.  I share an apartment with one other American, a girl from Missouri.  We have a common water closet (a toilet room), a little shower room, and a kitchen that is about the size of my arm span squared, equipped with a 2-burner stove, a sink, and a little fridge.  My room is great!  I have my own personal sink and mirror in one corner, separated from the rest of the room by ceiling-height bright yellow shelves.  I have a big window that looks out to a tree, a desk which spans the length of the room, a desk chair, a bedside table, and a twin-sized bed. 

Every weekday morning, many of the American students meet on the sidewalk in front of our residence hall at 8:30 am to walk to school.  It is a 2 kilometer walk through the city and up the side of a pretty good-sized hill to get to the Université de Savoie campus for étrangères (non-French people).  It usually takes us about 20 minutes to make the walk, then we have a little time to get situated in the classroom, fill our water bottles, and grab a little coffee out of the coffee machine.  We have class from 9:00 – 12:30 on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday; and we have class from 9:00 – 13:00 (the French use military time here) on Wednesday and Friday.  We are divided into 4 classes, so everyone gets to study at his or her own level of French. 

We get to see things like this
every day, wandering around
the city.  Awesome.

For the most part, I love class now.  One of our professors (my class has 2 professors who switch off) used to be a pastry designer at a fancy hotel in San Francisco, and now teaches French to étrangères.  She hopes to someday open her own shop.  Needless to say, she and I had an instant connection.  We are going to meet on Wednesday after class for a private session specifically about baking vocabulary, where we will share recipes, ask questions, and learn the baking language of the other.  I am excited to help her with her English, and to ask questions about some French pastries I am dying to try to bake.  It’s an odd feeling:  at the beginning of the program, there was a problem with my placement and, though the class I’m in seemed too easy, I was unable to transfer out.  I see now, after going with the flow, that God kept me in that class so the professor and I could discover these things about each other.  He sure knows what He’s doing, and it’s reassuring to know he’s got my back while I’m so far away from home. 

Every day seems to be split into two separate days:  Class and After Class.  Once class finishes, we students all kind of go our own ways.  There is usually something planned after class (canoeing, dancing, canyoning, paragliding, trips to nearby cities, etc.).  Usually, though, my friends and I head back to the residence for lunch, and then proceed with the project for the day.  Today, for example, we grabbed a slice of pizza at a pâtisserie right next to our residence, and walked around the city to find a good suit shop (for our friend Andy), take photos of our city’s castle, go to a book store, explore the WWII monument, and check out the African festival that is in town.  Each day is something different, and always full of so many sights and adventures.  It makes for such a long day, that class usually seems like it had a day of its own.

Some nights, we go to a local bar.  It's
pretty chill, called "Charlie's"

Most of my learning happens outside of the classroom.  I love to speak to locals.  Not only does it give me encouragement, but it helps me pick up on vocabulary.  I am proud that I can communicate effectively in French, and it is a feeling that I will probably miss sorely once I’m back in the states.  Today, at an African festival in the park, I stopped by a table of masks.  There, a local woman, the vendor, and I had a great conversation about beauty, youth, and identity; then the woman and I told each other a little bit about ourselves.  She was born here in Chambéry, moved to Paris, and recently moved back.  She said it was because Chambéry is so personal, and I agree with her.  I have never been turned down or made fun of by a local, even though they can tell I’m not French.  I have been mistaken for a German 3 times (and I blame my blonde hair and blue eyes) and an English Woman once (by the vendor at the African mask table).  I take it as a compliment!  At least I don’t speak with a horribly-obvious-American accent.

There's always something to
do in the city.  This was
taken at the music festival
the other night.

Chambéry is kind of like Alaska, where it doesn’t really get dark until 9:30 pm.

Around supper time, 5 or 6 of us usually eat together in my neighbor, Andy’s room.  We always have something to talk about, and we usually watch YouTube videos or an episode of East Bound and Down (a show introduced to us by our friend from Vermont.  It’s great!).  If not, then we listen to one of the boys play the guitar, and rock out with them.  Some nights we go out to a bar after supper, but most nights we just chill chez nous.  It’s a relaxing and exciting life here.

As you have seen in other posts, most weekends involve a trip or adventure; and Saturdays always include the local market (another opportunity to talk to locals).  Sundays are usually spent sleeping and lounging; recovering from the activities of the past week and preparing for the excitement of the next.

I look forward to telling you the stories of my next week; I am going paragliding on Tuesday!  We’re also taking trips to Chamonix, Tourin (Italy), and Jean-Jaques Rousseau’s house. 

Thanks for your support throughout this first half of the program.  I’ll keep you updated!

The Chartreuse Caves

Our  guide explained the process of
making alcohol from flowers

They sound pretty cool, don’t they?  Before you get any ideas, though, I suppose I’d better clear the image of “Chartreuse Caves” out of your head:  “Cave” is the French word for a cellar or a cavern (not really a cave), and “Chartreuse” is the name of an order of monks who used old medicinal elixir recipes to start a liquor cellar.  So, I’m not about to write of our visit to greenish-yellowish holes in the side of a mountain.  Instead, this is the story of our visit to a pretty cool liquor manufacturing place nuzzled next to a monastery in the mountains.

Getting ready for our tasting!

My friends have been excited for our tour of the liquor cellars since the beginning of the trip (we are all college kids, after all.  There’s something alluring about the lower drinking age, especially for my under-21 friends, so alcohol gets the whole group pretty excited.)  To add to all of the excitement, we were let out of class half an hour early to catch our bus to Chartreuse.  It was about an hour-long bus ride (as most trips seem to be).

We arrived at a building with beautifully ornate stained-glass windows telling the history of the Chartreuse Order (the order of monks) and the distillery itself.  We were given a tour of the distillery and an explanation of the processes.  Chartreuse liquor is made from mountain plants, trees, and flowers, and it was fascinating to hear about how the drink is made.  Our tour included a 3D movie of the history of the town, order, and distillery, and (of course!), it ended with a tasting.

The "Green" really WAS green!

The distillery has two main specialties:  Green and Yellow (both naturally colored by their contents).  I tried green for the tasting, and my was it strong!  I couldn’t finish the shot-sized sip I was given.  Green has 55% alcohol by volume and Yellow has 40%.  It tasted good, though; definitely had a natural, plant-y taste.  It almost tasted like mint and pine.  The best liquor that I tried was one made from raspberries.  It was smooth and sweet and, as my friends and I discovered after coming home that night, especially delicious when mixed with sprite or sparkling white wine. 

And the "Yellow" was actually yellow!

The Chartreuse Caves lived up to my friends’ and my expectations.  It turns out that monks really know what they’re doing when it comes to alcohol production, and I really enjoyed learning about the process of making alcohol out of flowers.  Who knew it was possible?  So the next time you are debating whether or not it is too girly to get your male friend a bouquet of flowers for Valentine's Day, remember this:  there are monks in the French alps who make bouquets in to very strong liquor.

Genève

 Every Saturday here in Chambéry there is an awesome local market. Local farmers set up stands of fruits, veggies, meat, cheese, wine…everything!  There are even flea-market-type stands with furniture and towels and jewelry.  I’ve even seen a guy selling mattresses out of a semi-trailer.  This past Saturday (June 11^th), we took a day trip to Geneva, Switzerland.  Not wanting to miss the market, however, a few of us got up at 6:00 to go to the market and be back in time to catch the bus.  It made for a long day, but the fresh-fruit sangria we made after getting home that night was definitely worth it.

The bus left for Geneva at 9:00, and the trip took just over an hour.  Being from Rake, I can’t help but to think on these trips:  In the time it takes me to drive to Mankato for groceries, a bus can get me to another country.  Or Grenoble.  Or Lyon. It blows my mind.

My own personal Royal with Cheese

Having been up since 6:00, by the time we got to the city, we were hungry!  Nothing was really open at 10:00 for lunch, so we grabbed lunch at McDonalds before heading to H&M (our plan for the morning).  It was actually a great idea.  We walked into McDonalds, and I instantly remembered recently watching Pulp Fiction for the first time in Kyle’s apartment, and I knew what to order:  A Royal with Cheese.  I photographed the menu for my friends in Ames and did, in fact, order a “Cheeseburger Royal.”  It was delicious!  Way better than McDonalds back home. (Don't understand the Pulp Fiction reference?  Click Here.  WARNING:  There is drug talk and some language...it IS Pulp Fiction.)

The huge fountain in Lake Geneva.
Notice the Swiss flag - no surprise there!

A few of my friends wanted to go to H&M, an inexpensive clothing store.  One needed a light jacket and sunglasses; the other needed a watch.  I kind of wanted something warm (like a sweater or something), since it’s been getting really chilly in Chambéry at night, so I was game for some shopping.  I’d never been to H&M – it was so fun!  My new friends and I really bonded, and I found a super-cozy sweatshirt for $10.  Win.

After H&M, we checked out a fountain in Lake Geneva.  It was a single jet of water that was SO tall!  The water shoots out of the base at 200km/hr. 

MmMmMm! Now that is one TASTY
burger!  (Actually, it's Michael and I
enjoying our Royals with Cheese.)

We stumbled upon a huge local flea market, and spent the rest of the day there.  It was huge (bigger than the market in Chambéry, I think)!  Again, it was an awesome bonding experience.  Michael found a ton of stuff for a steal (he got a pair of cool leather shoes for 2 euro, a skinny tie for 1 euro, etc.  It was a good day for Michael).  I loved the flea market because it gave us a chance to talk to all the vendors.  I had discussions in French with all sorts of vendors, talking about their items and our studies.  It was great practice, and I even got complimented on my French once.

Geneva never let us forget that we were in Switzerland, with Swiss flags and watches all over, so we didn’t leave without a tiny bite of chocolate.  I had pear “Movenpick” ice cream, and it was to die for.  Trip to Geneva – success!

Grenoble

The egg lifts at the top of the Bastille 

Thursday of this past week (June 9^th) we took an after-class day trip to Grenoble, France.  We hopped on a bus at 1 (when class ends) and it was only about an hour to get there.  Just to make this clear up-front – I definitely want to go back some day.  Grenoble was awesome.

Upon arriving, we went to visit the Bastille.  Now, this is a different Bastille than the one that was stormed in the French Revolution, but it is a similar type of place.  It is a huge fortress built into the side and top of a mountain.  Now it houses two museums, a restaurant, and plenty of places to view the city and take photos.  We even saw a group of guys at the top gearing up to repel down the mountain!

The view from the Bastille was great!

We got to the top by taking the “eggs.”  They were awesome glass sphere sky lifts that run continuously up and down to the Bastille.  It was great because, since the entire thing is glass, we could see all around us – including straight down!  My friend who is afraid of heights even enjoyed herself.

The Bastille has to be the best place to see the city.  The views were breath-taking!  We took plenty of photos, and generally just soaked up the sight.  These photos don’t do it justice, but they will give you an idea, at least.

In the eggs again, ready to go down

After researching the city the night before we went, we decided to catch a Chagall exhibit at the city art museum with the rest of our day.  That was also great!  The exhibit was nice, but the rest of the museum was incredible, housing works that we would make a huge deal about in the states.  There were 3 Matisse pieces and 3 Picassos which I was sure not to miss.  They gave me the chills – it is amazing to think that Picasso handled the exact same canvas, 3 inches from my nose.  Jon and I looked for a Cezanne that was mentioned on the museum’s website, but to no avail.  I’m glad that we chose an art museum for our time – I geek out about that stuff.  Also, I’m missing a great opportunity to geek out about art in the states while I’m in France, so I feel like this museum made up for it (almost). 

Jon and Andy's "Cafe de Paris for
dinner.  It was an experience!

It was our friend Jon’s 21^st birthday, so when we got home, we went out for dinner and for a couple drinks.  It was a nice end to a wonderful day.

It was a great time, and I’d definitely go back to Grenoble!  But for now, I’m blogging and sun-bathing on a French beach.  I can stay put for now.  J

Annecy

This past weekend, Guillaume (our program coordinator and generally awesome young local) planned a trip to a near-by city and cheese factory to help us get to know the region before classes start.  It was included in our tuition, so everyone went.

We started at the “Fromagerie du Val d’Aillon,” a 100% natural cheese factory literally on top of a mountain.  We took a bus, and it wound all the way to the top.  After arriving at the factory, we were led to the top floor of the pictured building where we got a presentation by one of the cheese-makers.  There was a big glass sky-light-like piece of glass through which we could watch a woman making cheese while we listened to the history and the workings of the factory.  It was fascinating, and I even asked questions in French.  The factory (which isn’t really an accurate word for this place) is purely a coop of the local farmers.  They do everything by hand, and don’t really have a manager.  They just all have their separate jobs, and fill in for other people when their help is needed.  I thought it was interesting that the French government protects the entire process, from start to finish.  That means that they (legally) protect the grass the cows eat, the mountains where they live, the cheese plant itself, etc.  We even got to see the cellar where the cheese ages!  It smells funky, but I was glad that we got to see it.

Next, we traveled to Annecy, a city on the other side of the mountain.  Guillaume called it “The Venice of France” because it has a huge lake on the edge and a canal running throughout the city.  It was beautiful in a very European way.  The buildings were charming, classic, and colorful.  The first thing we did, being students who just left a cheese factory at 1:00pm, is found a place to eat.  We weighed our options, and my group of 6 decided on a small crêperie.  It was so delicious!  I had a crêpe with mushrooms, ham, and Emmenthal cheese.  Yum.

After eating, we had just short of 4 hours to shop, relax, and discover the city.  It was well-spend window shopping, photo taking, park napping, French speaking, paddle boat watching, and ice cream eating.  Although it was a very touristy city, I would go back for another day trip some time.  It was a charming city. 

First Bar Fight without a Saxophone

As more students arrived at our residences this past weekend, my friends and I were eager to meet all the “new” people.  We never verbally discussed that we wanted to start our classes with good relationships already established, but I could feel that everyone had the same thoughts I did.  Every time we saw someone even slightly resembling a student, we ambushed them, introducing ourselves in French first, then in English, offering help finding rooms, etc.  My roommate came, and it was nice to share this huge room with someone else.

On Thursday night, after most of the students were settled in, a group of 11 of us decided to go out to dinner since none of the new people really had groceries.  It was 9pm, so it took a little bit of walking around the city before we could find a place that was open (except all of the Pizzarias – they never seem to close!).  We finally found a little open-air bistro (you know…the kind with the tables on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant?) and they gladly seated all 11 of us outside for dinner.

After getting situated, I noticed two very drunk French men (in their late 30’s, I would guess) in the corner across from us.  After not too long, they started calling to the women in our group in French and English.  They said things like, “Hello, Darrrrrrling” and “A kiss from my baby?  Give me a kiss, my baby” and “My English is pas good, mais…mais c’est pas grave (My English isn’t good, but…but it doesn’t matter).”  We ignored them, figuring they would stop eventually.  It was pretty funny, and all I could do not to snicker.

Those same men, in their drunken state, started picking flowers out of the flower beds surrounding the seating area of the bistro and wearing them behind their ears and making bouquets (presumably for us).  After a few minutes of this, the owner came out and asked them to stop picking the flowers.  He said that the flowers helped attract business, and the men were messing them up.  When the men didn’t stop, he got upset and asked them to leave.  One of the guys was a little mad and tried to fight the owner, but realized that it was a bad idea, so he gave up and left.  That little scuffle was just a little pushing and shouting.  The other guy, though, had a very, “never mess with my man” attitude, and was completely wasted.  He started the real fight.

It was intense!  The cook came outside and helped the owner fight the drunkard.  It was all slapping, no punching, and the second man came back to get in the action.  The angry dudes flipped tables and kicked chairs into the street, breaking glasses and ask trays.  Cars swerved around the chairs and men without slowing, as if this was a common sight.  The whole time we’re sitting just feet away, trying not to laugh, and I was quietly translating for the girl sitting next to me (my roomie).  I was so glad I wasn’t wearing flip-flops, as bits of glass were bouncing everywhere and I was on the end of the table.

The fight was always pretty close to the 3 of us on the end of our long table, but nothing ever hit us, because the cook was mindful of our table, and he protected us.  The owner even maced the drunkest guy, but he was so gone that he was completely un-phased.  He kept running back to the store yelling (in French), “That $#*! you have does nothing!  It does nothing!  I am calm!  …  Look at me!  I am COMPLETELY calm!  That does nothing!”

The cops finally came and took him away.

The entire fight (lasting 20 minutes or so) was pretty intense, but my favorite part came right after everything was quiet again:

The cook (who had done most of the fighting) hardly spoke any English. He came out to our table a couple minutes after everything settled down and mumbled a "Sorry, sorry." motioning to the area where it all went down. Then, he turned back to us and said slowly, "d'you enjoy da show?" and smiled.

At least he had a sense of humor about it.

As far as we students were concerned:  We couldn’t have asked for a better ice breaker to start off the trip, and we got a free show with dinner.  Life is good.

Coming Soon!

I haven't posted in a few days, and I know a few people have been asking about new material.  I have to write an oral presentation for tomorrow's class, but I plan on posting tomorrow afternoon.  So here's a little teaser!


Coming Soon to Six Week Wonder:

• "First Bar Fight Without a Saxophone" - the ridiculous story of our first-night experience in a French bistro
• "Annecy" - a quick recap and a few photos from our trip to a mountain-top cheese factory and Annecy, the Venice of France
• "Every Word!" - an explanation of my courses, our campus, and my exciting first day in the classroom

Stay tuned - it'll be worth reading!

B.Y.O.B.

Bring your own bag, that is.  Who knew?  (I'll get back to this in a little bit)


Two nights ago, after the long travel day, I was grateful that the noisy boys in the room next to me were noisy in English.  It helped me sleep.  I was tired enough to sleep through the noise, anyway.  I never imagined exactly how grateful I really was for their noisy English chatter until the next morning at breakfast.  My hotel served a charming breakfast on the first floor, and I sat alone, munching on my cheese and toast.  I saw two boys, about my age, come up to fill their water glasses a couple times, and they looked really familiar.  It finally hit me the second time they came up:


They were the other two students from Iowa State in my program.  


We teamed up to find our university escort at the train station.  Although I would've been fine, it was nice to not travel alone two days in a row.  


So, those two boys, me, and people that we meet every day make up a fun little group.  We explore the town and talk at each others' dorm rooms, since there is little to do here during the day.  I'm glad to already be making friends.  


That brings us to the B.Y.O.B.  Today we went on a group grocery shopping trip, since yesterday was a national holiday and everything was closed.  The grocery store was really confusing.  The lay-out was maze-like, and there were different rules about produce (you have to print a fun little label for each type).  My biggest surprise came, however, right after I checked out.  I stood staring at my pile of groceries, with no bags to be found.  The employee was checking out the people behind me...  I finally asked, and it turns out that you have to buy a grocery bag or bring your own.  Who knew?  I don't know if it is designed to encourage recycling, but it certainly does the trick!

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (Literally)

It’s a funny thing:  studying in France requires actually getting to France.  Although I’m not quite there yet (I’m sitting in the Genève train station waiting for my train.  It leaves at 17:28, 2 hours and 13 minutes from now), I figured I would get a jump-start on the post about this crazy travel day.

I sure picked a doozy of a way to travel alone for the first time.  My trip included a plane, a bus, another plane, 3 trains, and a little walk (at least I hope that’s everything).  That’s one bus and one train more than I expected when we were driving to Minneapolis.  The unexpected things have gone well so far, and the trip itself has been pretty smooth.  Now, let’s hope it ends as smoothly as it has been going thus far.

The only thing that really went “wrong” with the plane portion of the trip was me forgetting to empty my water bottle before customs.  It was a quick fix, though – the really nice young customs officer gave me my things (still in the gray bin) and walked me to the door so I could dump it out; then she let me back to the front of the line as soon as I got back to the customs check.  No disaster there.

The extra bus came between planes…I’m not really sure why.  I guess in Amsterdam they like to park the small planes in a line at the back of the parking lot, and take passengers out there from the gate.  The bus did fulfill one of my little life goals, though – I’ve always wanted to walk up a staircase straight into a plane like you see in old movies.  The bus dropped us off right at the bottom of the stairs.  J

The extra train got me to where I am now – Genève’s main train station.   The train situations were/are the most confusing thing to me all day.  The Geneva airport is connected to “the train station,” which I found.  It had a full-fledged train station right in the basement.  I was pretty excited, because I thought I was where I needed to be, though I couldn’t make sense of any of the map signs (this is my first time on a train alone, too).  Just to make sure, and to warm up my French, I decided to ask one of the ticket clerks if I was in the right place to use my ticket.  So…. “Bonjour, Madame!  J’ai ce billet…est-ce que ça c’est la gare correcte?”  She was pretty gracious toward my clearly non-native French, but told me that I was not, in fact, in the right place.  I had to take a train from “the train station” to the real train station.  So she gave me the ticket that I needed and some Swiss Francs that I didn’t need.  Sweet.  I sat down to look at my ticket, since it looked very non-specific, and discovered that I had no idea what the ticket was really for.  Which train?  Where to?  It didn’t even have a specific time; it just said that it was good until 14:15.  So, after wandering around for a while, undoubtedly looking like a foreign fool, I still had no idea, and trains were leaving all over the place.  I finally decided that I needed help…I was going to miss my train if I didn’t ask someone what to do.  I didn’t know who else to ask, so I went back to the ticket counter and asked a different clerk…this time in English.  I at least said, “Bonjour!  J’ai une question en anglais” before I just jumped in to the English.  She was fluent, though, and told me straight-up what to do.  I was so glad I asked.

I got here, the station where I can really use my ticket to get to Culoz to get to Chambéry and go to sleep (I am so tired.)  When I got here, though, I had a similar problem with my ticket.  Where on earth do I go?  Is this even the right station?  To be safe, I decided to ask again; so I found the ticket counter.  At this station, though, there was a huge line.  I started waiting, but then noticed a man in a really bright yellow vest with an “I” on it.  I figured he was just dying to answer my question.  So…I tried to ask him in French, and we got through the “am I in the right place, is this the right ticket” stuff; but as soon as we got to “where is my train,” he mercifully switched to English (with a smile that just said, “thanks for trying”).  I must’ve given him a blank stare when he sped through the maze I had to go through to get to the right platform.  Even with the English instructions, it took me a while to find it, but now I’m here, and I don’t intend on leaving until I hop on the train.

It isn’t even 4:00.  I mean “It isn’t even 16:00” and I am finished rambling about this part of my day.  At least it occupied 40 minutes…maybe I actually will take a nap here.  I am afraid of missing my train, but I bet I’ll be fine.

I’ll finish off the adventure tonight.  Take care, folks!

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I know this is a really long post, but I'll finish up the story real quick.  This should be the longest post of the entire blog, so if you can survive this, you can survive anything!

I didn't take a nap in the train station.  I was sooooooo sleepy, but I fought through the fatigue for fear of missing my train.  The train station was a mad house!  I can't imagine Grand Central Station at a busy peak.  When my train arrived and opened the doors, everybody literally ran into the train, taking any seat they could find.  They were smarter than me, because I was left with my huge bag, looking for one loner seat.  Luckily, I found one that folds out of the wall, and I sat with a group of 6 other people in the tiny space by the doors.  That sure was interesting.

Things went well on the trains, I suppose.  Everything was in French at that point (no more double-language announcements), so I had a little bit of a hard time when the conductors would announce over the loud speakers in the train.  Luckily, there are signs for every train station so you know where you're stopping.

By the time I got here to Chambery, I was just ready to be done.  I found my hotel, locked the door, and took a bubble bath.  It was a great adventure, but I am so glad today is over.  Now the real fun begins.

Until next time,

Erin