Hungry? Come Pay 5€ to Eat a Churro in Teepee!

        Skiing was a trial today. A trial to pass the "flocon" test, that is. After three months of Wednesday skiing lessons, the children had their exams today. Each group had to ski a certain course, veering properly around cones and avoiding the "chasse-neige" (snowplow). The evaluators are strict because the gendarme's monitors are essentially "taking their jobs by teaching the children" (as they told me).
        My favorite sassy 5 year old asked me mid-ski, "Why do you always have an accent?" I have been increasingly aware of said accent since last week. I accompanied my students to a musical concert last week. The musical was about Louisiana and the lead singer spoke and sang with an American accent in French. When she started singing, I thought with relief that I didn't sound like her...until the student sitting next to me told me that I sounded exactly like her. And then every single student turned to tell me "C'est toi!" (it's you!). The musical was attended by all of my students from all of my schools. I consoled myself with the fact that they (usually) understand me.
        Back to the accent comment from my sassy skier. I responded by asking if I do in fact have an accent, to which she responded with a huge grin. Then she asked me if I understood French. Seven months later, I officially have a huge accent and children doubt my French abilities!
        Had this not been embarrassing enough, I was reminded by the same skier that I fell the first time I took the platter lift. This happened three months ago, so it clearly made an impression on her. She told this to the ski lift operator, who was probably confused given my age. I grimaced and proceeded to miss my turn on the platter lift.
         When we got back to the bus, we learned that most of the children had passed! The children and monitors all asked me if I passed, which I thought was a joke, and when I responded "Obviously!", they said "Really?". But then I was told I improved majorly since the beginning. This encouraged me to ask for an honorary "Etoile d'Or" (Golden Star) award. Fingers crossed it's presented to me next week!

Roman Holiday

         Ciao dear readers! Casey came to visit for a lovely two weeks and we spent our time galavanting (correction: dragging, considering the amount of pizza and pasta we ate) around Italy! I'll do a quick summary of our trip here...
         We spent most of our time walking around new neighborhoods but we tried to hit all the major attractions and museums. We relied on HostelWorld to find the best hostels, Trip Advisor for grubbing, and most importantly, Lonely Planet Encounter Guides (thanks Mom and Dad!) for sightseeing! These pocket sized books cover a city and its surrounding area. The maps and suggestions are practical and precise. Best of all, the books weigh next to nothing and can be easily popped into a bag!
         We began in Milan where we stayed in an AirBnB apartment. I highly recommend using AirBnB when traveling. You get to meet locals, see a typical apartment (obviously this really appeals to my blatant nosiness), get insider tips on what to do, and it's more comfortable than a hostel and less expensive than a hotel! Our AirBnB hostess in Milan was away for the weekend but her friend kindly picked us up from the train station and took us to dinner and drinks!
         Milan is beautiful. The Duomo dominates the downtown area and is staggering to see amidst the posh and modern shops from Prada to Pucci. Milan's the economic center of and has banks galore. Luckily, it was Sunday and the shops were closed. Otherwise, Day 2 of our trip would have entailed far too much time spent at their ATMs.
         We then took the train to Venice, which looks like a Hollywood set (how American am I?!). Casey and I have never felt so lucky to be able to swim (which, luckily, wasn't necessary). Despite being an incredibly inconvenient place to roll suitcases given the fact that there are bridges to everywhere, Venice is architecturally stunning - bright colors abound. San Marco's square was a sight to see. The vibe is convivial and energetic. Our favorite part of Venice were their "aperitivos" and "cicheti". They serve cheap and light drinks and snacks (sandwiches, meatballs, salads, spreads, veggies, you name it!) from about 6pm on. We learned to make the rounds at the best places and so we had fabulous Italian-style tapas dinners every night!
          Florence was next and we loved it. We did the museums round and Casey took hilarious pictures of the David. It was warm and sunny and we walked around for hours. We had one of our favorite dishes from the trip at Trattoria La Casalinga: rabbit-sauce tortellini.
          From Florence we trained through Tuscany and went to Siena. Siena definitely has the most old world feel of all the places we visited and we had a great time exploring the churches and squares.
          The quietness of Siena was soon gone as we headed to Rome. Rome is loud. There is a deafening amount museums, squares, parks, monuments, and galleries to visit - we were overwhelmed! We snuck into the Vatican and got to see the Museums (just wow!) and the Sistine Chapel a day before it closed - talk about the luck of the Irish. The ancient Roman sites were incredible - we wished we'd brushed up on our Roman history before visiting them, though. Our favorite part were the Borghese Galleries. Not only is the chateau itself a work of art, but the collection is awe-inspiring. Five days wasn't nearly enough time in Rome! We had a great trip overall and can't wait to explore more of Italy!
 

At Long Last, a Round of Applause

        It's been snowing up a storm in Haute Savoie so I was looking forward to skiing with the gendarme yesterday. The ski staff at Les Gets, however, was not looking forward to my visit.
       When I got to the first big ski lift, the operator burst out laughing. He said, "Oh great, you're back. Those poor kids." The ski incident of which he speaks happened a month ago (my embarrassing account can be found if you scroll down). Great! Les Gets apparently has me on their "danger to self and others" list.
         As usual, ski lifting didn't go well. I thought I had the children's hands but their little gloves must have slipped out. When the lift came, I skied forward. They did not. Again, I was yelled at by the operators. Luckily I was able to lithely(ish) avoid the chair and cling to the pole in the center. I then somehow managed to ski backwards and grab the children and make it onto the chair lift with them. This merited a round of applause. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, seeing as French ski experts are usually less than impressed with me.
         I wanted to do Valentine's Day grams in English today but I think it's a good thing I didn't. As I was walking to school today, I ran into "Romeo" who was carrying a single rose back to school. I thought it was for the teacher but apparently it was for "Juliet" whom he loves. When we got to school, he presented his rose to his "amoureuse" and we learned that he is not her "amoureux". She loudly announced to the entire class that he likes her and she does not like him. The teacher says he tried to kiss and she slapped him in the face. Such sassy nine year olds! Joyeuse Saint-Valentin!

English with a Hint of German

        Kat and I ventured into German-world this weekend! Sillily enough, I did not remember that we were switching tongues - and forgot to teach myself German.
        How cool is it that Switzerland has three official languages (French, German, and Italian) and English as its unofficial fourth!? Switzerland technically also has Romansh as its fourth official language, but we didn't get to hear that. In Geneva, I've found Swiss people to be welcoming and friendly - and their germanophone countrymen in Lucerne didn't disappoint.
        Carnival was this weekend. Lucerne celebrates Carnival for six days before Ash Wednesday, but the city says Carnival "fetes" the end of winter. Judging from the freezing temperatures, it wasn't quite the end of winter, but it was a festival! From wooly mammoth like children to grim reaper parents, families were dressed phan-tastically. Revelers were meandering the streets - playing instruments, dancing, and singing.
         We got a drink at the Astoria, and had a view of the entire city, dazzling in snow and sparking lights. We had a yummy Lebanese dinner and stopped by the casino afterwards. Switzerland is "tres cher" - needless to say, we didn't gamble, but we heard correctly that it was fabulous. Excellent people watching time!
        On Sunday, I went to the Rosengart Museum, where I met Mrs. R. And talked to her. She's only Picasso's muse. Read about it!
       

The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread

         During our food talks in class today, one student asked me why sandwiches in the US are triangles. I confirmed the question. "Triangles, as in a triangle?" The class nodded in response. Last year, the English assistant was from Trinidad and Tobago; apparently, she showed them pictures of sandwiches cut tea-style. The entire class thought that bread was produced in triangular shapes in English-land. I burst out laughing, thinking of how difficult it would be to match two slices of bread perfectly - sandwiches would be sloppy joes, indeed. I drew a piece of sliced bread on the board, took two different colors of chalks, and showed how bread could be cut diagonally or vertically. They were amazed.
         Then I got to thinking, why do we have sandwiches cut in triangles, or, for that matter, in rectangles? Luckily, NPR hosted the great sandwich slicing debate several years ago and determined that, "Chefs, foodies, an architect and even a mathematician all told us that diagonal rules." The diagonal cut exposes the interior of the sandwiches and tantalizes your senses. It also allows crust-haters to avoid the crust, and graceful eaters to avoid shoving a huge side in their mouths. NPR also posits that triangles are superior because they are reminiscent of the Holy Trinity and the Star of David... Read for yourself! Who knew sandwiches were so much fun?!

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

        Today, it was "lions and tigers and bears, oh no!" We learned about farm animals in class, which seemed to bring out some tensions in the barn...
        Animal lessons are fun because a) the kids love them b) the animal noises are different in French, and c) I get to pretend that I'm six. I thought my pig impression was perfectly snorty but you should hear French kids impersonating piglets. We played Simon Says to remember the animal names but differentiating between chicks, hens, roosters, ducklings, and ducks proved difficult. We made frog noises for some of them and a yoodle-ish sound for another. I should have practiced my noises before this afternoon! Keeping calm and oinking on, we played the whispering version of Simon Says, so "meows, woofs, and moos" were hilariously deafened. In French, you say "chouchouter" for whisper - and the onomatopoeia works just as well. The kids were very polite barnyard creatures.
         Until we got to "donkey." I asked, "What is a donkey?" and was told "Benjamin."
         Horribly enough, I burst in a pig-impression snort, but so did the teacher. Benjamin, however, did not join in. Then he threw back a "you're a pig" and a girl was called a cow. I lost track of the animal slurs after that.
          It was clearly time for the all-inclusive, happy "Old MacDonald" song. And boy, did Old MacDonald work his magic. Soon after, donkey, pig, and cow were all singing in harmony.

Near Death Experience for Mice and Elephants

          I recently wrote about the trials of mounting the trails via "tire-fesses" as they say in French (direct translation: pulling your derriere). Today, I was faced with another tribulation. Literally. I was hit in the head with a chairlift.
          The gendarme's "sortie" today was at Les Gets. It's known for having a beautiful village and it's more challenging a "station" than Praz du Lys. And it has chairlifts or "telesieges".
          I was assigned the two worst listeners in our group. Taking little kids up on huge chairlifts is risky enough when you can fully communicate with them so this was clearly an accident waiting to happen, given my lack of French. I thought the operator was making sure the kid on my left got on the chairlift, so I took care of the kid on the right. Unfortunately, so did the operator. My silly trick that you can make a "G" with your left hand, which means it's the "gauche" side (I taught this to the kids to help them remember right and left, because the "L" trick works in English, too), did not come in handy. The kid on the left got whacked in the head with the chairlift. Seriously, thank god he was wearing a helmet. Luckily, he is 6 and was fine two seconds later. After disrupting the chairlift line yet again, we finally got on our way. I made them both promise to play statue and not move at all, having horrible images of one of them falling into the depths of the snow banks from fifty feet in the air. Then I lectured them on how to get off the chairlift properly and I asked them to recite back my instructions. I thought we were all clear. We were not. Upon reaching the top of the mountain, I lifted up the bar. We had planned to lift the bar, wait until I said "go" and then slide off. Of course, as soon as I lifted the bar, they both jumped off. Panicking, I also jumped off, which was incredibly dim-witted of me, but I was trying to go for a "one for all" teamwork-y attitude. I couldn't abandon my team, despite my horrible directions, could I? And this left three of us in the middle chairlift drop-off point, with chairlifts full of people zooming towards us. The chairlift man started swearing loudly. The kids played dead and lay down, apparently my French instructions were finally correct. They weren't hit with the chairlifts and the man pulled them out to safety. I, however, had star-fished literally in the smallest space between snow and chairlift. I could feel the chairlifts skimming my back. And no, it was not a nice massage. Because I couldn't stand up, I didn't know how to get my skis out of their position in a sprawl in opposite directions. The chairlift operator literally dragged me out face down onto the mountain. A more humiliating experience could not have been had. I was crying of laughter and the kids were crying because they thought I had died. No one was hurt, although I managed to kill what slim shreds of dignity I had left on the French slopes.
           Post-catastrophe, skiing went well! We learned to play "mouse and elephant". You play mouse when you are crouching down to make your perpendicular to the slope tracks and elephant when you stand up to turn. It's great that tips for 7 year olds work so well for a 23 year old!