"There must be people whose job it is to use the right words..."

{Actually written: Thursday, August 28, 2008}

Today was la rentrée, so the house was quieter than usual. With the gentle breeze and lazy, whipped-cream clouds, it was downright tranquil. Tuesday, by contrast, continued to be fairly tense until after the gosses had gone to bed, and the six others and I ate our roast eggplant and spaetzle in peace. I made Nathalie and Carole watch “Meet Joe Black”, which they enjoyed immensely, and the three of us played Monopoly {en français, of course}. In the version that we played, the Boardwalk property is called “Atoll du Soleil”. When we first set up the board, Carole looked at Nathalie and said, “C’est quoi, atoll?” {“What’s an atoll?”}. “Oh”, I responded casually, “C’est une sorte d’île, qui…” {“It’s a type of island, which…”} Carole cut me off, incredulous: “Maintenant, c’est TOI qui va m’apprendre le français?” {Now, YOU’RE going to teach me French?”} I put her out of her misery and admitted that it was the same word in English, but not before reveling in her astonishment for a second or two.
Yesterday, we had some delicious little roast chickens for lunch, then Nathalie and I went to the Bains de la Gruyère, a big fancy bathhouse in Charmey {“Shar-may”}. On the way there, Isabella actually stopped to pick up a couple of hitchhikers, which caught me off guard. Okay; it was really just two middle-school aged girls who happened to be hitchhiking, but still. Anyway, we went to the bathhouse, and I got a student discount, which seems weird until you realize that it’s pretty close to Fribourg, where they have the University…of Fribourg. With 30,000 enrolled at the University, there are actually more students than Fribourg has inhabitants.

Entry ticket for the bathhouse {sorry it's so blurry}

As “l’étudiante” {“the student”}, I could roam freely among the various offerings at the bathhouse, but Nathalie couldn’t go into the “Nordic Area” with me. We decided to try lots of things, but first we had to conquer the locker room.

In order to enter the watery complex, you actually have to walk through one of the changing stalls, after which you find yourself in a maze of stalls, lockers, and signs – one pointing to the toilets, one pointing to the showers, and one forbidding all patrons to wear what looks suspiciously like a pair of dress shoes, which I’m pretty sure no one would ever think to bring. At any rate, we found an empty locker and shoved in our belongings, using my entry card to close it {you also need these cards to exit – probably just so they can make sure you don’t surpass the three-hour limit, but I still found it a bit creepy}.

Nathalie and I tentatively entered the first room, in which there was a pool, a door marked “Orient”, and an exit to the outdoor pool. We splashed around in the indoor pool for a few minutes before heading in the direction of the mysterious Orient. The sign outside the door demanded silence, no entrants under 10 years of age without an adult, and that we “n’oublier pas de boire fréquemment” {“don’t forget to drink often”}. Nathalie and I exchanged bemused glances. Drink often? Are they trying to encourage alcoholism? Or are we supposed to drink the bathwater? Neither option seemed likely. Shrugging, we entered the antechamber and prepared ourselves for anything.

The first room on the right contained the “douches à fraîcheur” {refreshing showers}, which were obviously meant to be used post-bath. We entered the next door, marked “Hammam: 40° à 45°, Humidité: 70%”. The temperature being in Celsius, and I fairly unfamiliar with the metric system, I wasn’t sure what to expect {for those of you in the same predicament, it’s about 105° to 113° F}. The room was dark, tiled in yellow with a curved black plastic ceiling that started about seven feet up at the wall. Tiled seats lined the walls, with an occasional protrusion between seats for solitude, and as an object to lean against. In the middle of the room, there was a small, raised pool with a fountain and enough space around it to sit. We sat down against a wall, gesturing to each other in silent small talk that it sure was hot in there. After a few minutes, we found a hose attached to the wall, and decided to try it out. I pointed the hose at our feet, pushed in the knob, and grimaced as we were splashed with water that indicated that the Bains de La Gruyère has a very efficient refrigeration system somewhere beneath its floors. Apart from the shock, it was actually quite pleasant. The pool itself had water that was cool but not cold, and we played in it for a few minutes before heading to the next room, labeled “Bain turc {Turkish bath}: 40° à 45°, Humidité: 100%”. On our way, we discovered a water fountain, and our fears about having to drink either the nasty bathwater in which people had been sitting or the frigid foot water were assuaged. Drink often. From the water fountain. Got it.

The first “bain turc” was not hotter, but felt so because of the humidity. It smelled like aromatherapy bottles at Bath & Body Works, and they were playing music that it sounded like it was from the Middle Ages – right down to the soothing strums of a lute. We closed our eyes and relaxed, despite having some difficulty breathing. Finally, we exited to the showers to “refresh”, and prepared ourselves, whimpering, to enter the final room.

“Bain turc: 50° à 55°, Humidité: 100%” {That's 122° to 131°, folks}. We stepped in and closed the door. The heat was indescribable. We sprayed down our feet every couple of minutes, and tried to relax. It smelled like candy canes; my sinuses and I rejoiced at this. But the rest of my body was not in agreement, and neither was Nathalie, so we “refreshed” again and ventured toward the outdoor pool.

It was on the other side of the pool that I found the infamous “Nordic Area”. Nathalie said she didn’t mind swimming alone, so I walked up the stairs and opened the door to the “sauna finlandais” {Finnish sauna}. It was wicked hot in there. The coals were hot, the air was hot, the benches were hot. I tried to stay and make conversation with the man sitting near me, but after a few minutes I admitted defeat and exited to the world of the sane.{My decision was also influenced by the sudden entrance of a man in a black Speedo and white crocs. Oh dear.} Here, I discovered a small pool with a ladder, big enough and deep enough for one adult to stand in. Had I read the sign first, I probably would have avoided this pool altogether. But no. I dipped my toes into the most frigid liquid I have ever felt in my entire life. Then, after making a horrible face and removing my foot, I read the sign: “Refroidissement {Cooling off}: -15°” {about 5° for us}. Don’t ask how this is possible; I only know that it felt like my foot had turned to ice. Europeans are insane.

The room labeled “Relaxation” held nothing but chairs and magazines, and I forewent the “Sauna naturaliste” {those of you who have guessed what that means may be disappointed, but I’m pretty sure everyone involved was the better for my decision}. The “Bio-sauna” was normal, as was the tanning deck, but I didn’t stay long in either place for fear that Nathalie would get bored. We swam, bathed à la turc some more, then showered and called Isabella to pick us up. Back at the house, we ate some delicious crêpes {I had mine with honey and black currant jam}. Then it was time for the four who had school in the morning to go to bed, even Nathalie – did we go to bed at 9 PM when we were fourteen? I can’t even remember.

Carole and I watched “Le Tigre et la Neige” {“The Tiger and the Snow” or, “La Tigre e la Neve” if you prefer the original title}, a Roberto Benigni film that was at once a social commentary on the war in Iraq and a love story. If you liked “Life is Beautiful”, then you’ll really appreciate this one. It’s full of Benigni’s signature-style endearing goofiness amidst the chaos of war, and the object of his affection is the same actress from “Life is Beautiful”, and his actual wife off-screen, so their chemistry is fantastic. Also, I watched it in the original Italian with French subtitles and still understood everything, which was pretty awesome.