Commencement of a Very Rigorous Journey

I apologize for the suddenly large volume of posts, but I've got lots to catch up on, evidently. Also, if you ever want more details or pictures, feel free to send me an e-mail, Facebook message, etc. with your inquiry :)

{Actually written: Wednesday, August 20, 2008 around 8ish PM EDT}

Waiting in the airport is both a tedious and fascinating experience. I usually drift in and out of consciousness, due to varying levels of sleep deprivation, but today I'm also wrestling with a head cold - lucky me. But watching people, observing accents, identifying native languages, wondering where they came from and where they're going - these things are what being a traveling linguistics major {and generally interested in people} are all about.

{Thursday, August 21, 2008 around 11:30 AM, on a plane in Frankfurt, Germany}

The plane ride was an unpleasant blur of illness, but the flight crew was friendly and the passenger next to me actually spoke French - if only we'd been conscious enough, or even at the same time, to enjoy each other's company. As nervous as I was about making it to my next gate in the Frankfurt airport {or 'Fraport', as I've seen it written - I'm not kidding you}, this has been the easiest part of the epic journey so far, paling in comparison to the stress of packing, obtaining a visa, sitting at Logan for 3 hours trying to stay awake, and sitting on a plane for 6 1/2 hours trying not to.
Going from gate B41 to B61 was a matter of walking a couple hundred feet to a small security checkpoint, finishing my water bottle as per the request of the guard there {"Take your time," he said with a smile}, and finding a seat at the gate. A kindly old man sat next to me on the bus to the plane itself, cracking a joke about the size of the seats, first in German then, at my babbled "English - sorry", in adorably accented but flawless English. So far, just sitting on this plane, I've heard German, English, Spanish, French, and Portuguese - welcome to the EU.
Although I can certainly get by with my two, all of this only increases my appetite for languages. The man next to me is reading a newspaper in Arabic. I'm in linguistic heaven.

{Friday, August 22, 2008, around 3 PM and later in Le Pâquier, Switzerland}

I am actually listening to Mariah Carey while watching Nathalie play Super Mario 64 in French...and it's just as bizarre as it sounds. The juxtaposition of lovelorn laments and overenthusiastic melisma with the "Forteresse de Whomp" {that one's for you, Fae} and "Tu as huitante étoiles" is, in a way, characteristic of my time overseas so far. It hasn't been a culture shock so much as a culture clash.
I arrived at the Geneva airport around 1 o'clock PM Swiss time {7 AM for me} to numerous advertisements for Swiss watches - but in English, and spend the next half hour in line for Passport Control, chatting with a mild-mannered American girl around my age. Grabbed my luggage, then wandered around, wishing I'd had a better plan than giving Virgil my flight information and hoping for the best. Finally, I spotted Olivier, the patriarch of the Swiss family "Robinson", and we tentatively approached each other, commenting on how much we'd both changed over the past three years.
After a few minutes, he switched to English, for which my jetlagged and virus-addled brain was grateful {my pride was too tired to protest at this point}. We drove to Lausanne, where Olivier returned to work and Virgil took over as chauffeur.
Being in the car with Virgil was a bit easier, as we've been messaging on Facebook for several months, despite not having seen each other for three years. He's also, therefore, used to conversing in French with me, so he didn't send a word of English my way, which boosted my confidence significantly.
Around 2:30, we arrived at their gorgeous chalet...




The front door






The View...{not the TV show}


And another picture of the view, just to make you extra jealous

...where I was reunited with Nathalie and Gabriel and introduced to Philippe, Nicolas and Marie...and my bedroom.



Six hours of feverish sleep later, I awoke to find that Isabella and Carole had long since returned from shopping, and attempted to be social, presenting my all-American gifts of chocolate chip cookies and blueberry jam, which we ate after a dinner of turkey, rice, and salad. There were also three cakes and rapid-fire conversation - having seven children makes for a full and noisy dining room.


The very, very long dining room table, at a more tranquil moment

The six that I already knew well stayed with me at the table to chat and drink tea for an hour or so, then the girls and I watched "Ne le dis à personne" {"Tell No One" - Melanie, I was totally right. You should watch it}, a Guillaume Canet film that included Jeff Buckley's version of "Lilac Wine", and several other American selections in its soundtrack. A good film overall, especially if you're into suspense and mystery flicks.
After that, it was time to sleep - for 12 hours. Oops. Tonight, I'll definitely set my alarm clock. The rest of today included the aforementioned Mario episode, eating the traditional dessert of meringues with double cream {so heavy, you can't eat more than one, and if you do, you're asking for trouble}, and an excursion to a shoe store in Bulle where they were playing The Cure and "Hey there, Delilah". I also found this...



Take a good look at the writing on both parts of the bag. I feel as though something got lost in translation there. On the way back, we saw the train,



the local McDonalds, and some slow-moving pedestrians crossing the street. And by pedestrians, I mean cows. Culture clash, indeed.