You know what they say: time really does fly when you're having fun. And so we have arrived at my last Wednesday in France (preceded by the final Tuesday and to be followed by the ultimate Thursday, Friday, and Saturday). Before I start crying and writing about one of the most profound, life-changing, insane, multi-faceted, ridiculous years of my life, I feel that it is only logical to recap the past two months and their highlights. So much has happened, and I honestly have not simultaneously had the free chunk of time and the mind space that are necessary for me to do my experiences justice in print. In short, welcome back and get ready for this penultimate (?!) and potentially gargantuan rundown!
My good friend, Catie, flew in on Saturday, April 13th. After a ridiculously long time alone at the Geneva Airport (grâce aux bouchons), she finally arrived, safe and sound. After a nap and the "in a nutshell" version of our respective past years recounted, Catie, Maellys (my host sister), Melina (Maellys' best friend) and I went out on the town to show our newcomer the best pizza on this side of the Atlantic. Despite lots of rapid-fire French and discussion of people she didn't know, Catie was an absolute champ, making it all the way through after-dinner (non-alcoholic, duh!) drinks with a smile on her face. Nevertheless, both of us were ready to crawl into bed at an extremely reasonable hour.
The 14th was a day spent roadtripping down to the South of France, with a slight reprieve au Palais des Papes. We enjoyed a fascinating interactive tour in the early afternoon and arrived in Saint-Mandrier-sur-Mer in time for dinner.
The 15th was calm, with plenty of time to explore the seaside and loads of opportunities for Maellys and Catie to become BFFs. By the end of the day, Maellys was convinced that Julia Cook is not the only wicked-awesome American, and Julia was certain that Maellys and Catie liked each other more than they both liked me.
The following day was overcast, but we were lucky enough for the rain to hold off during our journée in Marseille. We walked by the port and up and down the cobbled streets, chatting and exploring the city. I reveled in hearing the Marseillais accent, so chantant and different from that of my region. Maellys was thrilled by the vegan health-food store, and Catie said that she just loved being in France. All in all, it was a lovely day.
The 17th was another city adventure, this time in Toulon. Toulon is a beautiful ville, smaller than Marseille but with just as much charm. We took a ferry to make the trek into the city, basking in the sun and delighting in the candy-colored buildings. More ice cream and wandering made for a calm, relaxing day.
The 18th and the morning of the Friday the 19th were slower, beachy days. However, things got exciting on Friday afternoon, when we decided to take a quick trip to Saint-Tropez. After stopping at a roadside beach in Cavalière for a quick swim, we arrived in the famous (or infamous, depends on whom you ask) Saint-Tropez. The iconic town is a window shopper's dream; we ambled down the picturesque alleys before parting ways with my host family to eat. After a delicious meal (was it overpriced? Yes. Worth it? Oui oui.), we met my host family by Barbarac, an artisanal ice cream shop that blows whatever your old favorite ice cream was out the window and into the impossibly beautiful Mediterranean, just meters away. After a mind-blowing glace, we returned back to our apartment for the night. This was our last night in the South, as we spent the next day napping in the car.
The 21st was devoted to showing Catie the city of Lyon, two hours away from my home. It was Easter Sunday, so most everything was closed. However, that also meant that the streets were almost empty and we did not have to deal with the usual hustle and bustle. We visited le Musée des Beaux Arts, a stunning museum that I had actually never before visited, and explored Vieux Lyon (which was bustling, despite the holiday). Vieux Lyon is the medieval and Renaissance section of Lyon, and has the unique privilege to keep shops open on Sundays. We ate extremely well, as one must in one the ~gastronomical capital of the world~, and poked around book and art fairs on the banks of the Saône. Catie can correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that we both enjoyed her last day in France very much. The following morning, Catie and I both hopped on a plane, mine headed to Corsica and hers to Montreal.
I landed in Ajaccio on Monday morning and was met by my first host dad, who drove me home to my first host mom and their new host daughter, and Argentinian girl named Josefina. The week passed in a blur of Corsican sunshine and trips to the beach; I visited thermal baths, walked up and down exactly 187 steps (carved into the Bonifacienne calcaire and descending at roughly a 45 degree angle), and even fired a pistol into the trees (an old BBC scriptwriter told me that it was a tradition, and before I knew it I was holding a palm-sized antique pistol in my hand). In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, Friday had arrived and it was time to take the ferry home.
My grandmother, Nana, came from May 3rd to 5th. We went to Megève, a celebrity-favorite ski resort town, and walked around, ending up in a little coffee shop. We drank tea, split a crèpe, and talked about what our lives had been like in the almost-year that we had not seen one another. We must have spent over an hour just sitting and catching up. She told me all about her year abroad in Rome, and I felt, and still do feel, so lucky to have a grandmother with such a rich and vibrant life story.
On the 4th, we drove to Annecy and spent the day strolling through the lakeside park, watching the swans, and taking in the charming architecture and little shops. After 9 months in Haute-Savoie, I am 100% an Opinel knife convert. The brand, while technically Savoyard and not Haute-Savoyard, is a staple in the kitchens of most families in my region. So, after spotting an Opinel shop, I convinced Nana to trust my knife knowledge and pick up a couple of paring knives for herself and my aunt. Here's to hoping that I can personally kick-start Opinel's American takeover!
The lendemain was a rainy Sunday, so we drove around my town and talked some more. We stopped by my first host family's house to introduce them to my grandmother, and then Nana was on her way back to Geneva to stay the night before her early-morning flight.
The weekend of the 17th to the 19th was our last Rotary weekend. In theory, it was supposed to be two days of fun in the sun, with swimming, canoeing, and ropes courses. In reality, we did do all of those activities--but in rain instead of shine! Nonetheless, I was so grateful to see everyone else one last time before we finished our exchanges and scattered all across the globe.
I woke up at the crack of dawn to drive to the bus on Friday morning. I, still half asleep, boarded the bus at the first stop. We drove south, picking up other exchange students every couple of hours. After we had collected everyone, we stopped at a nougat factory and learned about the history and science of French nougat. Nougat fabrication is incredibly intricate and complicated, and I will not attempt to summarize the process in this blog post. However, if you are ever in France, I fully recommend going for a nougat tour, if only for the free samples!
Later that night, we had a sort of inbound prom, with everyone dressed in the finest dresses and button-down shirts that they could fit in their overnight bags. We danced, sang until our throats were crying out for us to stop, and pretended that we were supermodels, posing on the terrace.
The following day was spent scraping knees on ropes courses, botching canoe races, and braving the unfortunate météo to swim in ridiculously cold water. On Saturday night, after a talent show, flag signing, and one last soirée dansante for the books, my angelic, uber-talented, Finnish friend Reeta introduced me to Eurovision. Eurovision is, en gros, a Europe-wide version of The Voice, with countries and populations voting for who wins. The competition is cheesy but iconic, and I was hooked. Reeta and I stayed up until 3:30 am watching old Eurovision clips and swapping tales from our exchanges. It was the perfect way to mark the beginning of the end of my year abroad.
Sunday was hard. Saying goodbye is always difficult, but it is even more challenging when you are letting go people whom you may never see again. We all spent the day in the bus, pausing two hours to tour the caves of l'Aven d'Orgnac. The caves stretch more than a hundred meters deep into the ground, with breathtaking stalagmites and stalactites jutting out every few feet. After taking the elevator back up to the surface, we picnicked and were back on our way. Being the first to get on the bus on Friday, I was also part of the last group to descend on Sunday. Unfortunately, this meant that I arrived chez moi around 9:00, with absolutely no homework done and lots of emotions to process. I will tell you one thing: Monday morning was a struggle.
My family landed in Geneva at noon on Thursday the 23rd. After nine months of not seeing my dad and brother, I was more than surprised when my family spilled out of the car two hours later. Why? I'll explain. When I flew out from Boston, I hugged my brother goodbye. At the time, his head hit just around my bicep. Hugging him hello, I quickly realized that I had missed more than Theo's baseball games and performances: as he wrapped his arms around me, his forehead was at throat-level. The craziest thing about leaving for months at a time and finally seeing your family is the bittersweet feeling that you have missed out on a chapter in their lives. My brother is not the only Cook/McGowan who has changed (even physically—have any of you seen my mom recently? She has been swimming a mile twice a week and she could give The Rock a run for his money), and the impression that I have not been there to watch my family grow and evolve was a strange one. Even so, not once did I regret leaving.
We spent Friday in Annecy, which has quickly become one of my favorite cities in the world. Small and intimate, but with charm and character to spare, I always delight in seeing people's faces light up as I guide them to my favorite places. We were lucky enough to have gorgeous weather, so we all enjoyed a walk in the park and by the lake. At my brother's request, we had crèpes for lunch before heading into le vieil Annecy (yes, just like Vieux Lyon). After a full day of walking and talking, my jetlagged family was more than ready to head back to my first host family's home to sleep.
We drove down south on Saturday the 25th, arriving in Menton just in time to get settled in and find a place to eat. We dined incredibly well (we were even serenaded by our 60 year old waitress!) and, as is the French tradition, spent most of the evening at the table.
The 26th was gloomy, but we still went swimming and explored downtown Menton. Despite the clouds, it was wonderful to be by the Mediterranean with my family (Theo's first time!), and we were lucky enough to see a man throwing raw chicken legs attached to strings into the water, possibly hoping to catch a sea monster. Sanitary? No. A great anecdote? Oh yes.
We drove to Italy on Monday, a drive that was supposed to take an easy twenty minutes. However, we used our car's GPS which, in an apparent bid to make my parents' heads explode, led us down a nightmarishly narrow dirt path that lead to absolutely nowhere. Thus, we arrived in Ventimiglia an hour later than planned. Despite the navigational debacle, we passed a lovely day in the Italian city. Pro tip: Italian pizza really is worth the hype. Another pro tip: one year of LV3 Italian did not help me feel any less out of my depth or American once in Italy. That night, I made des légumes farcis, a specialty of the South of France, and my parents and I talked long after my brother had tucked himself into bed.
Monday morning, we all woke up bright and early to clean up the apartment and pack our bags. The drive through Italy and back to France was rainy and dreary, but we kept an eye out for castles, blasted music, and kept each other company. That night, we had a final dinner with my first host family.
Tuesday was our last day together. However, it was also the day of my last class of SES (les sciences économiques et sociales), and I needed to go in for the afternoon to take a test on the French economy. We spent the rest of the day spending time together and poking around Sallanches. After I sang their praises, my brother decided to pick up an Opinel before heading to my friend Sofia's house for dinner with her family. Just as I had hoped, our parents got along extremely well, and Sofia and I spoke a mixture of French and English that allowed Theo to grasp only exactly what we wanted him to understand. Ah, the joys of a second language. That night, my family dropped me off back home and drove to Geneva, where they spent the night before their Wednesday morning flight back home.
For my friends who accuse me of basically never having school, I'm about to give you some ammunition. Right after my parents left, we had Thursday to Sunday off for le Pont de l'Ascension. I drove to a paragliding competition with Sofia's family and spent the night camping in a tent with her, her sister, and their dog, Nino. I adore Sofia's family, Nino included, but I was about ready to pète un câble when Nino woke me up at 3 am by sitting on my head. Otherwise, the night was picture perfect and free of dog bottoms in my face. On Sunday, we went swimming, read by the pool, and attempted cable waterskiing, with varying degrees of success. Sofia, her mom, and her sister are all great skiers, so they took to the sharp turns and accelerations much more quickly than I did. Even though I lagged behind them, I still had a wonderful time.
The following week has been action packed, tearful, emotional, and definitely deserving of its own blog post. I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed this quick rundown of two of the most eventful months of my exchange. I know that writing down what has happened and taking time to reflect on the past month(s) helps me to process and learn. So, even if only Nana actually gets all the way down here, I am grateful to my friends and family for inspiring me to keep what, in essence, amounts to an online journal.
Gros Bisous,
Julia
P.S. This is in-the-States Julia apologizing for the delay in actually publishing this post. These past two weeks have been absolutely insane (in a fun way!). I will try to get one last post up in the near future.