It seems as if it has been forever since I have written my last article -- vacation can do that to you!
For this week, and the previous week, my "region" has its last half of a two-week winter break. Scholar regions are split into three groups: A, which is my region and includes Alsace, Normandy/ Brittany, the Rhône Valley and the southernmost part of France; B, which includes the French Riviera, Champagne country, Burgundy and the Loire Valley; and C, which includes Paris and the surrounding area, also known as "Île de France," and Bordeaux. This partitioning is supposed to cut down on the number of people being on the highways and byways in France during the same two-week period, which makes a great deal of sense to me.
To miss some of the vacation rush, I went skiing a week before my vacation time started. The two-week sets are offset by one week and overlap into another region's break. This trip took me three hours by bus to the Vosges mountains which straddle the French/German border. The view wasn't as spectacular as, say, the Alps, but the powder was about as good as any. Since this was my first time to don the planks-of-death-and-knee-torquing-torture, I am no connoisseur of fine snow patches. To me, snow in Cape Girardeau was a stockpile of hand-compressed ammunition just begging to be hurled at unsuspecting little brothers. Or, realistically, a pain in the backside to shovel. So this new experience was a welcome one.
Some differences
Among the many stereotypes we Americans hold about the French, like the image of a man wearing a black beret and horizontally striped black and white shirt with a paintbrush in one hand, squinting through one open eye with a "thumbs-up," there is one that is at least partly true. Instead of holding the paintbrush, the other variation has a cigarette -- or two. I recently saw on the news that nearly 40 percent of the French population smokes. This is astounding in itself, but coupled with the statistic of one in every three French high schoolers smokes, it's almost staggering. No, ridiculous!
Waiting for the bus after school at the bus depot, there seems to be this ever-present smog of cigarette smoke. I am no longer shocked to see 12-year-olds chain smoking. In public places, there is no such thing as a "smoking section." After the relatives leave the house, I smell like I just came from a bar or clubbing -- that's a funny notion in a town of 400!
At least it's starting to warm up a bit here so I don't have to hack and cough my way through these last four months.
Four months!? That's all?
I need to go out and soak up some more foreign culture!
A la prochaine!
Dane Lincoln is an exchange student sponsored by Rotary International.
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