While we are eating lunch, Anne Sophie’s husband asks me if I am aware that another guest will be coming to stay the rest of the week. I was not aware. He says that it is the man who married Anne Sophie and him and that they have become very good friends since then. He is supposed to get here before dinner.
I try to hide my disappointment because they are all clearly excitedly anticipating this new friend’s arrival but I have only just gotten used to having my host family all to myself. I spend the rest of the afternoon playing with Juliette, the eleven month old, who has just begun to walk and has convinced herself that she is also able to make it up and down a staircase. She knows two words, “tiens” and “papa,” and uses them both as if they apply to everything. “Tiens”
little juliette, growing up so fast
basically means “here you go” or “take this” and she not only uses it to offer up objects, but also herself, by lifting up her arms to one of us and then saying “tiens!” in her adorable little voice. She also has it in her head that she can play peek-a-boo all by herself and she will cover her eyes and then uncover them and shriek with laughter, even when no one is looking at her.
Unfortunately, every morning she wakes up around 6:30 or 7 and screams bloody murder until her mom comes into the room. Juliette has the room beside mine and I have nothing but a curtain for a door yet, my host family always acts surprised when I am awake at 8:30, and I resist the urge to tell them to thank their granddaughter.
The special guest shows up around 3:30 and we all go on a walk on one of the trails near the chalet. Juliette is stuck into a baby backpack on her dad and I spend most of the time communicating with her, as to get out of actually speaking French. Unfortunately, this man does not understand my attempts and decides to come speak to me on philosophy and religion. Here we go.
Usually when people ask me what religion I am, I just say protestant so that they understand, but this usually provokes more questions since they do not comprehend how I am not Catholic. If I go further and say that I went to an Episcopalian high school, they are absolutely lost because that does not even exist here in France. So I start explaining my religious history and beliefs to the priest and he tells me that I should come to his mass services because they are much better for young people. I point out that I have actually been to mass 5 or 6 times since I’ve been here and may have been to his church. We soon find out that I have been to his church twice (and barely understood a word of it) and he asks me my opinion of his masses. I want to run away, this is awful. I fall back on my bad memory and tell him I can’t recall much from his sermons. New subject, pleasseee.
Next he asks me if Americans think that French accents sound smart and attractive when speaking English. Ahh…how do I say this? NOT AT ALL. Personally, I think it sounds pretty weird when they ask “aree youu uungree?” around lunchtime and I will usually just respond in
incredible
French to get the point across. I know this is terrible since I’m sure my French is terrible too, but I have the hardest time not laughing out loud when French people try to speak English to me. Especiallyy when they think it’s sexy. I’ll take a southern accent over French any day, thank you.
When we get back from the walk, we play a few rounds of cards (which I lose) and then start setting the table for dinner. I am not really listening to the conversation going on around me but I keeping hearing the word mass and I’m wondering if we are going to have to go to a Wednesday night mass since the priest is staying with us. Finally, I ask ma mere and she tells me that as part of his commitment as a priest, he has to go to or perform a mass service every night, so we will be holding on in the living room. She tells me that if I don’t feel comfortable going, that will be totally fine and no one will be offended. HA. How am I supposed to get out of a mass service, taking place in the same house as me when I am one of six people and the priest has been trying to talk up his sermons all day? I knew I would have to go.
I don’t have any problem with masses, it’s actually nice to go to some sort of service and hear
fog just makes everything look better
the hymns and everything since I can’t be at a church at home. The problem is that, since I wasn’t raised Catholic, I don’t understand when and how to do things. I don’t know the prayers, I don’t know when to kneel, I don’t understand the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (Holy Ghost?) cross that you are supposed to make on your head and shoulders at random intervals. Not to mention, I don’t feel comfortable taking communion in a Church where I am not sworn in on the same doctrine so overall, I just feel pretty out of place at these services.
In either case, here I am, sitting in a lazy boy, looking at this priest as he lays out all of the gear for his service. He dons a long white robe and covers the coffee table with a white cloth, then breaks out all of the communion gear. This is going to be a legit service, I can tell already.
Throughout the sermon, my family is kneeling and crossing and responding as provoked while I stand silently, observing and trying to absorb at least a little bit of the sermon in case I get questioned afterwards. When it comes time for communion, I cringe thinking about how awkward it is going to be for me to refuse this when there are so few of us. Luckily as the priest is breaking the “bread” or wafer thing, he looks up at me as if to as “do you want in?” and I shake my head no. He breaks only five pieces and continues on without skipping a beat. I wish I could do that in regular mass…
When we got to the lords prayer, they said it in French while I said it in English. Then we figured out a hymn that carried over into both languages and sang that together. The whole
lunch spread
thing lasted about 40 minutes and wasn’t too painful. It felt a little cultish to have a man in a white robe making blessings over the six of us in the living room, but I guess it was all right since I didn’t have to participate in anything I didn’t want to and it was an interesting experience for sure.
Ironically, when the service was over, we broke out a bottle of champagne (the first time for me in France!) and appetizers to have before dinner. We each had about two glasses before switching to apératifs and wine. What a strange dynamic… drink the blood of Christ and then drink the same wine for dinner with the man who poured the wine into your mouth during communion. It was definitely weird. In either case, we had a wonderful dinner of Gruyere fondue, salad, homemade fruitcake, and Swiss ice cream, and then sat around in the living room after, drinking herbal tea and watching a soccer game.
Switzerland is one of the most relaxing places I have ever been too. It could be that I am on vacation, with gourmet meals being prepared for me around the clock while I read all day and go on walks… but I think it’s also the atmosphere. Every time I look out the window, I see nothing but snow-covered peaks for miles and it is an incredible feeling. The entire house is enveloped in nature so much that it’s hard to think about school and work and all the things I left back in Lyon because this feels so far from all of that. As I said the last time I was here, Switzerland is by far my favorite place that I have visited since I have been here, if not just for the view. Love from the Alps!
trying snails and frog legs 