La Fin

"La fin:" the end

As I click my ruby red heels together tomorrow to come home, I feel it necessary to reflect upon the last year of my life, and les aventures de la vie française.  My return will definitely be bittersweet.  While I am incredibly excited to see my family and friends, it is still sad closing this chapter of my life.  In the past year I,

• Learned to speak a second language fluently,
• Traveled to Spain, Morocco, Belgium, the Netherlands, Serbia, Greece, Monaco, Switzerland (3 times), and all over France,  
• Made friends with French, Italians, Moroccans, Spanish, Mexicans, Finnish, Russians, Greeks, Germans, Swedish, Brazilians, Portuguese,
• Shared a room with another person (and we did not kill each other), 
• Had a boy roommate (and didn't kill him either!),
• Ate escargot, oysters, mussels, cow stomach, pig brains, horse, kangaroo, cow liver, raw duck, and frog legs all for the first time,
• Learned how make French crêpes, Spanish tortillas, Moroccan tajines,
• Had my first real professional business experience,
• Figured out what I want to do with my life (professionally),
• Experienced being really really alone, and lived through it,
• Talked to my parents more than I do when I am at home,
• Saw a lot of castles and cathedrals,
• Drank a whole lot of wine,
• Ate a whole lot of stinky cheese,
• Averaged about 1 baguette purchase per day,
• Got kissed underneath the Eiffel Tower,
• Watched a lot of rugby (and still don't really understand it),
• Watched my first World Cup in Soccer,
• Rode on a motorcycle for the first time,
• Stepped in French dog poop,
• Got lost many times,
• Hiked through waterfalls,
• Hiked up volcanoes,
• Went to the beach,
• Skied the Alps,
• Helped a friend,
• Met a boy, 
• Walked (everywhere),
• Was scared,
• Was uncomfortable,
• Was happy,
• Laughed,
• Cried,
• Danced.

In the past year I,

• Lived in France.

Hellos & Goodbyes

"Au revoir:" I'll see you again
"A bientôt:" See you soon
"A plus tard:" See you later
"Adieu:" Goodbye

In France, one only says "Adieu" when you really mean goodbye, when you are really not going to see that person in a while--it is not used daily. Since I am leaving in a week I am going to have to say "Adieu" to a lot of people, and the crazy part, is that I really may not see some of the people ever again. Now there is the internet, email, facebook, and everything, but really I may never SEE these people again. Maybe I will, I don't know. Friends, colleagues, even the owner of the wine shop I always go to, or the husband and wife who own my favorite restaurant. It's always a little sad having say goodbye, even if its not someone you think you will miss a ton...goodbyes can signify the end of something, and in this case, the end of my year in France. Many people have asked me how long my holiday break is before I come back, and I have to tell them non, c'est fini, it's over, I'm leaving for good. I am very excited to come home and see my family and friends, but saying goodbye may be difficult.

C'est bientôt fini. It's almost over. 

Maybe I will find my way back.

Beers & Boob

Even though I still do not quite understand the rules of rugby and how the game works, I still enjoy watching the game as a substitute for typical fall football. A couple of weekends ago, Kate and I decided to go to a bar we had never been to, to watch the ASM rugby game (Clermont’s team). We chose this particular bar because one day we passed and saw in the window people drinking liters of beer out of the big glasses you find in German beer gardens. We wanted to have a (large) drink to celebrate KU’s homecoming because we could not be there (or watch the game). We ended up sharing a table with two guys because it enabled us to better see the television. When the server came by, I ordered deux grand bieres (2 big beers), to which he replied, “ok pints,” and I said, “No, no, I mean BIG beers” (hand motion showing size requested). He then replied, “Ah yes, les masses!” (Who cares that it was only 3:00pm—it was a Saturday, why not?!) So the server lugs over these two very large beers to Kate and I, meanwhile everyone in the bar gawking at the size, and the two guys sitting with us drinking half-pints of beer. They thought we were crazy. Then again, the French aren’t known for their beer drinking, reinforced by the fact that they actually offer a half-pint size…

Anyway, we happily drank our beers as we tried to understand why large men wearing very short shorts, were grabbing each other in odd places and running into each other. Clermont ended up losing the match, but we stayed long enough to see the beginning of the next one, which was Stade Français (Paris team) vs. Toulon.

The owner of Stade Français is apparently gay (not that there is anything wrong with that) but very into theatrics. The team’s uniforms are pink, with exotic flowers on them. They also wear coordinating socks. You definitely will make a double-take when you see giant grunting rugbymen wearing PINK. As if the uniforms were not bizarre enough, this particular day there was a leopard theme, so the uniforms were not only bright pink with flowers on them, but also with blue leopard spots. This particular match also had a sort of “opening ceremony” that was televised: There were 4 very large men only wearing tarzan-esque loincloths (pink with blue leopard spots) pulling this big “iceberg.” When they got to the middle of the stadium, the crate was unveiled to reveal a real leopard in a cage. On top of the crate was a young, attractive woman, also wearing a tarzan-esque pink with leopard spots dress, except that she had one boob exposed. (on purpose!). When they showed her on the T.V., Kate and I were both shocked, and looked around the room to see if everyone else thought it bizarre as well, but it seemed to be just normal T.V. to everyone else. The woman preceded to hold a golden rugby ball in the air and parade around the middle of the field, still full boob exposed, and then it was over and the match commenced. I was still in shock—first of all, what was the purpose of the exposed boob? Second of all, I couldn’t help but compare this same situation to the Janet Jackson/Justin Timberlake super bowl boob exposure that was an absolute scandal in the U.S. Only in France.

I have included a link to the British broadcast with the opening ceremony:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFwHm4R7IkQ

The trials of shoe shopping

"Les chaussures:" shoes
"Les bottes:" boots

Yesterday, with not much to do, Kate and I sent out about town to do some shopping and take advantage of the sunny, 75 degree weather that is still finding its way into fall.  I had been eying a pair of knee-high camel-colored boots in a store window the last few times I had passed, so I decided to finally go in and try them on.  This particular store is very small, shoes-only, so once I picked up the boot and decided to give it a try, I had to wait a couple of minutes for one of the two workers to assist me.  Finally, one of them asked me if I wanted to try them on and in what size.  I told her yes, in "41" (exchange all in French, of course).  She brought out the box, and I excitedly slid little the little socks on, preparing my feet to enter fall fashion.  As soon as my foot slid in, however, it was immediately apparent that it was too small, as the sides of my feet felt like they had been squished into a wooden clog.   Here's is how the conversation with the saleslady went down:

Me: "These are very uncomfortable, I think they are too small."
Saleslady: "No, no, they look good.  It's just because you were wearing flip-flops before."
Me: "Uhh, no I don't think so...they are really, really uncomfortable, I can barely walk in them."
Saleslady: "No, no, I think they fit."
Salesman: "Yes, they are good."
Me: "No, no, they are not good."

So I start to take them off, and Kate notices that the bottom says they are size 40. Aha!


Me: "Excuse me, Madame, but I see the problem, these are size 40! Can I try a size 41?" (as I had originally asked)
Saleslady: "Oh no, I normally wear a size 39 and I bought these in a 38 so you do not want a 41."
Me: "Yes, but I actually DO want a 41, since the 40's were too small..."
Saleslady: "I don't think you do want the 41."
Me: "Ok, well, can I at least try the 41??"
Saleslady: "Well...as you wish, but I'm telling you the 41 is going to be too big."

So Jean-François, the salesman brings me out a 41 (but in black), and I try it on, and what do you know? It fits! Meanwhile, as I am walking around the store checking out my new fall fashion look (albeit in black), both salespeople proclaim that they are "too big." I say, no they are perfect and they shrug their shoulders, and roll their eyes, saying, "comme vous voulez" (as you wish).

OK, so I love the boots, but I would like them in brown, not black. I ask for brown in 41 and they go back and check, and of course have none. Bummer.

Me: "Will you be getting some more in soon?"
Saleslady: "No."
Me: "Will you ever get them in again?"
Saleslady: "No, never."
Me: "Ok...thanks anyway, then."

And we walk out, them looking at me like it is "my loss" for me not buying the boots and therefore not giving them money.

Depressed as I was, it made me replay the situation in my head as if I were in the U.S., let's say, at Nordstrom. If I had found boots I loved at Nordstrom but not in the right size or color, the salesperson there would: call the 12 closest stores nearby to see if they have them, call stores from California to New York to see if they have them, check online if they have them, call the warehouse to see if maybe there is a pair hidden there somewhere, or if none of the above prevailed, probably just have some little elves in the back custom make them for me....and then any option with free shipping of course. Either way, I would not be walking out of the store without making a purchase of some kind.

Maybe the lack of sales service in France is just preventing me from spending too much money...

House Party French Style

"la fête:" party
"bises:" kisses (as in the cheek to cheek kisses you give upon greeting)
"bisous:" kisses that are more as we American's consider kisses to be, such as for a boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, etc.  

So our apartment is situated behind our landlords' house, so we have gotten to know them and their family pretty well over the last 9 months.  We were invited to come to their daughter, Lucy's 20th birthday party last night.  I was not sure what to expect, but attended the "flower power" themed bash.  They had a pretty nice setup in this really big room in the house, decorated with candles and Christmas lights all about, plus a couple of disco balls-a-spinning.  The beginning of the night started out with Yves, Lucy's dad spinning old records including the Doors, the Rolling Stones, some twist & shout among others.  Brigitte (Lucy's mom) warmed up the dance floor...very cute couple, although at 20 I probably would have been horrified to have my parents dance at my birthday party!  Haha I think Lucy was happy to have them there, however.

Even after 9 months, the whole kissing greeting still confounds me.  So, I can totally understand friends greeting each other, such as when meeting for a coffee, seeing each other at school, family greetings, etc.  It becomes weird to me at places such as the office, and in this party situation.  So I arrived before most of the other people did (Lucy's friends), so every time someone arrived to the party, they are obliged to make a tour of the room greeting everyone with kisses or handshakes (guy to guy) even if you've never met this person before.  Insider's tip, this is how it works: usually you go to their left side of the face (so your right cheek) first, make a big MUAH kiss smack sound and then as you move to the next side before the second smacking sound, you say your name. Let's review it step by step: lean in (make sure to turn your head enough so has to not accidentally have a lip to lip kiss-whoa that'd be awkward) touch your right cheek to their right cheek making the obligatory smacking sound (intensity sound depends on personal preference, but normally the louder the better), and as you turn to the other side, say name ("Michelle" for me), but it is not necessary to say "my name is" or "i'm," just the name is sufficient, and then repeat cheek touch lip smack sound on other side.  Then move on to the next person.  You may not talk to this person for the rest of the night, or even ever again, but you have indeed exchanged bises. 

This is the typical process, of course you occasionally get different variations depending on the person, region, etc:

• Not just 2, but 3 or 4 kisses.  Anything beyond 2 just becomes a sort of bobbing dance. A tech intern, who works at our production facility in Aurillac, came into the office the other day and I gave him the bises, and pulled away as normal after 2, leaving him literally hanging for number 3.  Whoops, I felt really bad!  Generally speaking, anywhere south of Clermont-Ferrand does more than 2. 
• Then you have the big-bise giving studs who breeze past cheek to cheek bises and go in for the full on lips to cheek kiss.  I call this "Big Bisous"
• Sometimes with the kisses you just lean in, no touching besides cheeks, sometimes maybe an hand on the shoulder, and then there are those who like to go in for the full double shoulder grab, where there is no escaping or turning back. 

Anyway, back at the party after I had exchanged bises with about 20 different people,  we had some cocktails and party snacks provided by Brigitte.  At about 11pm, Yves got booted from his record disc jockeying and on came on the iTunes powered techno club beats to really get the party started.   I did not really know anyone at the party except Lucy (the birthday girl) and Vincent (landlord's son, 25), so it took a few drinks to really get me warmed up, but afterward was able to make friends on and off the dance floor.  Lights were flashing and music bumping until about 3:30am, while normal people probably would already be in bed, but we decided to take the party to a club in Clermont called L'Atelier, which is open until 5am.  Further dancing ensued, and to my shock, the club let a couple of chiseled guys hop up on the bar and dance, à la Chippendales while they took their shirts off.  These guys sure thought they were hot stuff...it was funny to see because it is something that would just NEVER happen in a regular bar/club in the States. 

Hip hop hooray that was quite a Saturday night. 

Day 5: Half-day in Geneva

I stayed Saturday night in Geneva, in a recommended hostel, which was actually super nice!  It was the cleanest and most well put together hostel I have ever stayed in!  I did not arrive until about 9:00pm so did not really get to see the city that night.  I grabbed some Thai food to go, and watched Benjamin Button in the lobby with some of my fellow hostelers.  That night, I did not sleep so well though-I was sharing a room with two other girls, and one of them woke me up because she was snoring so loud! You can't imagine the noises coming out of the little gal, I felt like I was in a lion den!   I was on the top bunk and laid there for a while trying to deal with it, which I could not, so after a bit I threw something at her to wake her up and tell her to turn over.  She did with many "sorry's" but then fell asleep and started snoring again.  I could not listen to my iPod because it was out of battery and the outlets in Geneva have three prongs unlike the rest of Europe (or Switzerland), so I ended up sleeping on my purse with my pillow on my head!  Ha, the adventures of hosteling. 

I dropped my bags off in a locker at the train station the next morning and explored around Geneva.  Unfortunately, as in France, everything was closed because it was a Sunday.  I did not get a very good impression of Geneva, however, by its outdoor appeal.  The architecture was not very interesting, mostly modernized buildings besides a few surrounding the cathedral St. Pierre in the vielle ville (old city).  I wanted to go inside the cathedral but services were going on, so that was a bust.  I walked by the lake, (Lake Geneva), but it was much more beautiful from Lausanne where it was blue, here it was more murky brown colored.  I am sure Geneva would be fun for shopping and going out because it is a big city, otherwise I prefer Lausanne!

I took two trains back from Geneva to Clermont, back to French life! 

Day 4: Gimmelwald

On our last day together, we decided to go up to Gimmelwald, a small village up the mountain from Interlaken with a population of only 300 people.  It is listed as one of Rick Steve's favorite places in Swtizerland, quoted, "If heaven ain't what it's cracked up to be, send me to Gimmelwald!"

It took a train, a bus, and a gondola to get up to Gimmelwald, but it was totally worth it and not packed with tourists at all.  There was one main road with wooden houses along, all with flower boxes hanging off of the windows.  The town is made up of hill-ed farmland, with towering mountains surrounding.  While walking along, you can hear the gentle dinging of cowbells in the distance, an actually quite delightful sound.  It was so serene and cute, every spot more picturesque than the last.  We happened to come across a lady who was selling homemade cheese and dried sausage in this little wooden hut.  She gave us some yummy samples and we just had to buy some it was so good! We hiked up for a view from above the village, meadow-ed hills in between.  I could have sat on this bench for hours just gazing out at the mountains and listening to the dinging cowbells.  (of course, whenever I actually think of "cow bell" the snl skit comes to mind..."what we need is more cowbell...").  Of course the weather was sunny and about 70˚F, absolutely perfect.  We hiked back down to the town and had lunch on the terrace of the only restaurant called "Pension Hotel and Restaurant," where we had deliciously fresh baguette sandwiches, tortilla chips, and salads (3 big beers, also!).  My sandwich had brie, tomato, cucumber, and pesto on it.  We hiked a little bit more after that, but it was nearing late in the afternoon and the beer was kicking in so we head back down the 3-way route to Interlaken. 

Back in Interlaken, we all caught the 6:00pm train to Bern, then split ways, Matt & Allie to Zurich to fly home, and me to Geneva.  I stayed in Geneva that night to break up my the long trip back to Clermont.

I had so much fun with brother and sis-in-law!  It was a welcome break from Clermont life and great to see some family!  I heart Switzerland!