Early Release, More Hikes (Wow!), and a Cat

It is a Thursday afternoon, a few minutes after two o'clock, and I am already out of school. My friends and family back home won't understand the significance of this momentous occasion, but my French audience definitely will. You see, in a school system that often keeps students in school from 8:00-6:00, longer than the French work day, leaving school before 4:00 feels a little bit like getting away with murder. Today, my Italian teacher was absent. And, unlike in America, when teachers are absent, the students are not obligated to sit through an hour of "silent study" or plow through piles of busy-work given solely to keep us in the classroom. So, this Thursday, I was out the school doors and on my way home by a quarter past noon. Unheard of.

I know that I haven't posted in (what the calendar and my parents would suggest) is a long time. It has been about two weeks, and I have:

-been on two hikes

-eaten one picnic by a lake

-seen one new American movie, A Star Is Born, in French (Bradley Cooper in French is extremely bizarre)

-passed my free time by learning new French vocabulary

-video chatted with three of my best friends from home at once, using some Facebook Messenger wizardry that I did not set up and could not recreate if I tried

-discovered I am allergic to cats

-studied my French to Italian Quizlet and successfully twisted my head into one million sobbing brain cells

-done many other mundane, unremarkable, and wonderfully French things. Often involving cheese.

Two weekends ago, I stayed with Michèle, the mother of Oscar, a boy who is now in Argentina with Rotary. It was at her home that I encountered the cat that would solidify my DIY allergy diagnosis, but who would also fulfill my need for animal cuddles...at least for the following three days. Two of Oscar's best friends, Margot and Victor, came over for lunch, and I was delighted to find out that they were just as lovely and charming as Oscar's mother.

After lunch, Margot had to leave, and Victor, Michèle, and myself went on a quick hike. The day was so gorgeous that I was carrying my sweatshirt after five minutes, and I met two really adorable dogs who were down for a mid-mountain snuggle. In short, it was a very good hike. For dinner, we ate raclette, a regional dish that is composed of melted cheese over potatoes and charcuterie, and followed up the meal with a strength and flexibility demonstration. Some things I cannot explain.

The following day, Michèle and I drove to the home of one of her friends and coworkers, a Swedish woman who speaks flawless English, Swedish, and French (at least). We, along with her two daughters, ate on the bank of lac Léman, napped, and strolled around a small fortified village called Yvoire. I also ate the first ice cream that I had tasted in a little over a month, and it did not disappoint. Swiss chocolate truly is otherworldly.

One week later, another Saturday rolled around. Consequently, it was obviously far past time for another "petite promenade" (which my host father uses to indicate a very long and difficult hike). We woke up around 8:00, packed a lunch of bread, cheese, ham, apples, and coffee and were in the mountains from about 9:00-2:00. Based on the only criterion that really matters (did Julia get to pet any dogs), the previous Saturday's hike with Michèle was the winner. However, I did appreciate the narrow, twisting route that we took to descend from the summit. The trek may have taken a good five years off of my lifespan, but I enjoy living dangerously.

That evening was a very relaxed one, to say the least. I am pretty sure I went to bed at about the same time as my host father, and he is NOT a night owl. The small break was a much needed respite for my brain and body, both of which were not pleased with me by the end of Saturday's escapade in the Alps.

Sunday continued the moment of relaxation. My host mom's mother and step-father visited us around noon, and we talked, laughed, defined (they defined vocabulary for me), and ate over the course of our four hour (!!!) lunch. The French meal culture is no joke. By the end of multiple hours of French conversation, my brain still has some trouble formulating interesting and coherent sentences, so for the last thirty minutes my contributions consisted of monosyllabic words strung together in mediocre phrases. But don't worry; I am working on my conversational endurance!

Currently, I have been counting down the days until Saturday, when I will drive to Annecy and spend three hours with one of my very best friends. She is currently at an internet-less semester school in Switzerland, and she called me from a payphone last Friday to inform me of her school's travel plans and encourage me to ask my host parents if they could bring me. I, of course, needed no encouragement. And so, because I am lucky enough to have two of the most wonderful host parents in the whole country, I will be seeing mon amie on Saturday!

And so, for the Recap:

Life is good

I can't own a cat

My thighs are strengthening (I think), grâce à lots of "petites promenades"

I miss ice cream, but I love cheese

And I am (still) full to the brim of gratitude and things to which I am looking forward

Gros bisous,

Julia