The two week break from teaching was well-timed, since I had finals to work on for all of my master's courses. I spent about 10 days working feverishly at the library, attempting to digest an entire semester's worth of material and prove my knowledge by writing brilliant papers. This is one thing I definitely DON'T like about France - their university classes tend to be based entirely on one grade: one final paper or one final exam. That's it. And if you screw that one up, too bad, so sad, you just get a bad grade. So... no pressure, right?!
This was certainly a stressful time period for me, a time when I came up against all of my limitations as a foreigner in the French university system. I definitely had a few moments where I thought to myself, "I really can't do this!" But in the end, I persevered. Or well, I think I did - so far I've only gotten my results for one of my classes, and I was pleasantly surprised so hopefully the other grades will be similar (did I mention that French professors also grade VERY harshly, at least by American standards? Yikes, what have I gotten myself into!).
Having finished my finals, I celebrated by taking a trip to visit a college friend, Alice, who is also
working as a teaching assistant in a small ski town in the Southern Alps. It is quite an ordeal to get to Alice's little town, a full day of travel: two two-hour trains, a long wait in between connections, and a nauseatingly winding hour-and-a-half ride on a bus that was driven by a madman who seemed to enjoy taking the hairpin curves at terrifying speeds. Once I arrived, fully intact though exhausted and feeling rather sick to my stomach, I rejoiced in just how wonderful small-town France is. First of all, provinciales (that is, people NOT from Paris) are genuinely welcoming and friendly people. You forget this when you live in a congested city where the people are sick and tired of tourists running amok in their town all the time (in a way, I don't blame them, but that said, there's no need to curse at me if I accidentally bump into you while trying to pass you in the world's smallest grocery aisle). Also, this was my first time in the Alps. They are simply breathtaking, and Barcelonnette, Alice's town, is blessed with fabulously sunny weather, and the temperatures while I was there were about equivalent to that of Paris's (i.e. around 50 degrees Fahrenheit).
Despite my post-finals exhaustion, I managed to get in three mini-days of skiing. I really loved the at- mosphere of the two resorts we went to - they were very small, not too commercial, and laid-back. Alice also set up a snowshoe romp under the full moon, followed by a three-course meal at a restaurant at the top of the mountain, cooked by a very cute British ex-pat named Nicolas, who joined us on the snowshoe down the mountain (though he sledded down the hill while the rest of us tried not to tumble face-first with our unwieldy snowshoes!). It was a 5
kilometer, steep journey, but the meal at the top of the mountain made the trek totally worth it!The next day, I was completely wiped out from a half-day of skiing and the late-night snowshoe marathon, so I decided to take the day off from physical activities and visit the local jam-makers. These are two twin brothers in their 30s who are crazy about... jam. They make 25 different varieties of jam, all handmade, all done themselves in their
little farmhouse! They let us come check out how they make the jam and of course allowed us to taste-test a lot of different flavors. I bought a jar of strawberry-rhubarb jam and am saving it for a special breakfast occasion.All in all, it was four days of great skiing, good cooking (and even better eating, of course), catching up with college friends, and experiencing yet another side of France that I didn't know. Definitely an unforgettable highlight of my time here, and a well-deserved, well-timed vacation!
