I could make many excuses for not writing but that would just be silly. Instead I will tell the truth. I have been busy creating an igloo to keep from the cold until spring, cracking noix collected during autumn, and on my days off, watching the mountains all around me like a film that never ends.
My time in Saint Hilaire du Tuvet continues. Already I feel a very special relationship with my family here. Besides the most common factor - living together, I have found what brings us closer, particularly when speaking is not always the easiest form of communication, are the practical things that are often far more descriptive and meaningful. By that I mean sharing recipes and tasting new flavours, mixing colours and painting memories.
La fête d'anniversaire de neige de ThomasThomas' snow birthday party
I am so past feeling humiliated and caring that I ask the most stupid questions over and over. I have accepted that this is the way it is and millions of people have felt the way I do, learning a language in a foreign country. I am not the only one. After this realisation, I have begun to open my eyes a little more, focus on the positive in each day and take advantage of this incredible experience that still feels a bit strange and untrue.
As I continue to struggle with my severely unwell French, I triumph in delivering my message accurately via a combination of colourful sign language, baby French vocab and beaucoup hideous facial expressions. I am no longer surprised by the obscure looks that return my way.
Some of the most memorable blank and confused faces I have received were during the five days I undertook a beginners ski course at our local ski resort (five minutes from our house).
I found out quickly that skiing is actually a lot harder than what Bridget quotes. I was grouped with all the beginners in our local area for the week – five children aged five and six. All children stared at me like a big jellyfish you find on the beach… minus the excitement. I could easily read the questions in their minds: “Why is she so big and can’t ski?, Why can’t she talk properly? Why does she keep falling over if she is so big?’ What is wrong with her?”. It would have been helpful if they could have equally read my mind: ‘Look kids - there is more than one language in this freaking wide world and yeah I’m big and I can see that this ski school bib only reaches just past my chest whereas yours all fit down past your hips, and I am big because I am not five. I am 22 years old and I am good at other things other than skiing. Ok?’ All week I remained an alien to them and I am sure they talked about me to their parents because even they began giving me strange looks like I was brainwashing their children on the slopes. In fact all I was doing was learning to ski.
After the learn-to-ski week I jumped the in-between years of practice in one day as my French family insisted I experience the many international ski resorts in the area. The father kindly left me with the kids to do the red and black runs while he headed off-track to meet us later at the bottom. I reached a speed I never thought I could do alone, not because I wanted to, but because I could not stop! Even after being in a similar situation and feeling, I have to say it, like the biggest dick, I don’t think I will laugh any less watching Bridget Jones in the scene where she attempts to ski. It is too funny – but I must admit, a lot funnier to watch than to actually do!
Some of the most memorable blank and confused faces I have received were during the five days I undertook a beginners ski course at our local ski resort (five minutes from our house).
‘Told a tiny lie about being an extremely experienced skier but honestly, how hard can it be’. Bridget Jones.
I found out quickly that skiing is actually a lot harder than what Bridget quotes. I was grouped with all the beginners in our local area for the week – five children aged five and six. All children stared at me like a big jellyfish you find on the beach… minus the excitement. I could easily read the questions in their minds: “Why is she so big and can’t ski?, Why can’t she talk properly? Why does she keep falling over if she is so big?’ What is wrong with her?”. It would have been helpful if they could have equally read my mind: ‘Look kids - there is more than one language in this freaking wide world and yeah I’m big and I can see that this ski school bib only reaches just past my chest whereas yours all fit down past your hips, and I am big because I am not five. I am 22 years old and I am good at other things other than skiing. Ok?’ All week I remained an alien to them and I am sure they talked about me to their parents because even they began giving me strange looks like I was brainwashing their children on the slopes. In fact all I was doing was learning to ski.
After the learn-to-ski week I jumped the in-between years of practice in one day as my French family insisted I experience the many international ski resorts in the area. The father kindly left me with the kids to do the red and black runs while he headed off-track to meet us later at the bottom. I reached a speed I never thought I could do alone, not because I wanted to, but because I could not stop! Even after being in a similar situation and feeling, I have to say it, like the biggest dick, I don’t think I will laugh any less watching Bridget Jones in the scene where she attempts to ski. It is too funny – but I must admit, a lot funnier to watch than to actually do!
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