Le Week-end Dernier

So, we were all a little torn on whether or not we wanted to celebrate the fourth of July. That is, everyone but Jennifer. On Monday of last week, she decided that we were having a pot lock- and everyone was required to supply red, white and blue. It took some real creativity, but we all figured out something different to bring. I brought as much of France with me to the dinner as I could: cherries, a baguette and blackberry jam (that looked blue).

Jon definitely won the prize for most original dessert. He spent the afternoon baking three-layered cupcakes like pancakes in a skillet, due to our lack of ovens. They were iced with cream that he tried to whip by hand and got to a thicker, gel-like consistancy, and the layers were strawberry and blueberry. Then, the chef grated dark chocolate on top and made us all look bad for just slicing things and putting them in bowls.

We ate three different flavors of spaghetti with three different sauces (thank God one of the sauces wasn't blue), a tricolor salad and drank beverages of, ok, two colors: white and red.

As the night went on, we got more excited about the idea of a real celebration, and we were missing our fireworks. So, we headed out into Chambery and went to BRC, a small bar/club in the centre ville. It wasn't very lively when we got there, but some girls that had been there before insisted we be patient.

At about one, the dance floor was filling up and we all joined in. Lights and electro dance music were filling the air. Greeks, Italians, French and Americans were mixing together in air heavy with hot breath and body heat, and all of the odors that go along with that combination. Everyone was moving, smiling, jumping and feeling the most alive most of us had felt since arriving in Chambery.

The dancing is so free here. There's no need to be on each other, telling the whole room that you're together, and what you'll be doing later. People were dancing together and with five other people at the same time, spinning and throwing themselves around, not caring what it looked like to anyone else there. It was as if I was dancing in a room, completely alone, and yet surrounded by my closest friends; our inhibitions were gone, and it was not due to any alcohol... We were able to get in, hang out and enjoy the night with only one person having to buy a drink.

Saturday, there was a trip set up for us by ISEP, the exchange program. We took a bus through the countryside and the mountains up to Chamonix, the city at the base of Mont Blanc. The mountain is the highest in France, and stands out with its ice and snow from all of the other tree-covered, rocky peaks and cliffs surrounding it.

Jon and I packed a lunch and set out, trying to escape the American entourage for a day, into the middle of the town. We wandered through the market and bought fresh fruit (I'm going to miss that so much) before returning to a cafe for the afternoon. The cafe was close to the tram station that carried you up to the ice caves of the mountain, and when you looked behind the station, Mont Blanc stood staring back at you. I sat at an outdoor table and spent the afternoon journaling and staring at the largest mountain I have ever seen.

French people were all around us, as were hikers from around the world that had come to climb the mountain for the day. I listened to their conversations and took in as much as I could, partly for language learning, partly for possible things to write about later. There are so many things that I have heard, felt and seen here that I am so afraid to forget but have no way to put into words.

One of them, and certainly not the least of them, was the cappuccino that I sipped while sitting in the sun of the cafe's deck. The espresso was strong; the froth was a perfect foam; the grated, unsweeted chocolate melted from the steam of the drink. With my sunglasses on and my book in my lap, I had never felt more at ease and perfectly content.