Last weekend, Rotary District 1760 organised a trip for its exchange students. All I knew was that I needed to pack a swimsuit, and by late Friday night I would be somewhere high above the world in Les Hautes Alpes. When the train first rolled up to the station, Colleen, who lives about 10 minutes from me, and I were greeted by our district's Youth Exchange Officer Mme Arlette Librini. She took us to our seats, we met the other exchange students, and the trip to Briançon, "la plus haute ville en Europe" commenced. We students had plenty of time to get to know each other, between the hour long train ride, the 2 hours spent in a bus, and the final 20 minutes when all 8 of us squeezed into a van driven by a 9th passenger, Theo, the President of Briançon's Rotary club. Finally we arrived at the town's youth hostel, we spilled out of the van, and settled in for the night.
This trip, it turns out, involved a lot of English. Of the 7 exchange students, 5 are American, one is Canadian, and Akiho, who is Japanese, told us early on that her English is better than her French. Mme Librini speaks a little bit of English too, and to top it off, Theo was from the English Channel island Jersey (no, he didn't fist pump, not even once, the entire weekend =D). As such he, his wife, and his two children are completely bilingual. So, yeah, we spoke some English that weekend.
Anyway, the next morning, after breakfast, Mme Librini filled us in on what the weekend had in store for us. And, oh, did the weekend have things in store. Saturday would continue with a visit to the thermal baths, white water rafting, and finally (dum, da da dum!) RACLETTE FOR DINNER. Then, Sunday would bring a morning of parkour at l'Aventure Parc, a final meal in Briançon, and the trip home. I guess the best way to progress is just to steamroll through this incredible weekend one activity at a time (titles are links for further exploration!):
2000 years ago, the Romans were chatting about the snow level that year, or maybe the eminent control they would hold over the entire Mediterranean. Who knows, right? One week ago, Samantha, a fellow exchange student from Arizona, and I were discussing just how much the female life guard was flirting with her male counterpart. The kicker? These two conversations took place in the same baths. Well, more like in water that came from the same springs. But, hey, still pretty cool. The spa we went to played up this Roman connection, naming the cold room the Frigidarium, the hotter room the Caldarium, and so on. Despite being forced to buy a Speedo (their crazy rules prohibited swim trunks and the Speedo-like boxers I brought...), Les Grands Bains were incredible. I completely understand why the Romans made public baths like that such an integral part of society, and I would go back in a heartbeat.
Briançon is the site of a few tributaries that combine to form one of the bigger rivers of Les Hautes Alpes and Provence, la Durance. About 7 km upstream from Briançon, we geared up with our wetsuits and paddles, and pushed out onto La Guisane (the western tributary). The purpose of the activity, in fact the whole weekend, was to build a sense of community among the exchange students. Rafting definitely does the job. What better way for new friends to break the ice than being wedged together at the bottom of a tiny raft, each taking away the other's space for the common goal of not falling into the freezing, possibly dangerous rapids? Maybe twister, or that game where you have to guess the celebrity's name written on your forehead. Regardless, it's in the top three. And, of course, the rafting itself was incredible, even though I may have fallen in once. But ONLY once.
Finally. The moment has arrived. The moment where I can rave on, and on, and on about raclette. As soon as I heard we would be having raclette for dinner Saturday night I gasped, my jaw completely dropped, and my eyes practically popped out of head. I had eaten raclette once before. It was long enough ago that I didn't completely remember the meal. All I remembered was a big cheese wheel, and globs of gooey cheese. Believe me, that food memory is enough to make someone drool themselves a swimming pool. (I apologize for the image, but it's completely necessary.) The verb "racler" means to scrape. Raclette, therefore, is a dish that involves melting cheese slices on small trays by means of a shared grill, and then scraping the cheese onto potatoes, ham or saucisson, and cornichons (mini pickles). It's basically, in my opinion, the ultimate comfort food. There's the heartiness of the potatoes and, of course, the bread. There's the saltiness of the cornichons and the savoriness of the meats. And, most importantly, there's the smooth, warm, gooey rich cheese smothering everything. It's like eating a cozy evening curled up beside the fireplace. And the evening was exactly that! Warm and cozy. There's no room for homesickness, for loneliness, for fatigue, for problems with food like that.
Parkour is basically one giant playground. It takes you right back to those days when you would jump from couch to couch, pretending the floor was lava. Except with parkour if you actually fell you would probably seriously hurt yourself (don't worry, we had harnesses!). Needless to say, the 6-year old in me was excited to be climbing things once again. L'Aventure Parc, where we went, was the world's first parkour park. Its creator apparently did similar sorts of extreme activities in the military, and enjoyed it so much that he built a whole park upon his return home. Soonthereafter, it spread outside of the Alpes, to the rest of the world!
Donning super spiffy jumpsuits, we headed off to the course, and took on every obstacle, from ziplines, to firemen poles, and even tarzan swings. There was even a "sensation course", which required you to remove your harness and trust only netting beneath you to catch you when you fall. We all had a blast, and made good friends with our instructor, Stefan!
Once we had said goodbye to Stefan and our jumpsuits we headed to a restaurant in Briançon for a very french meal: steak-frites, salade verte, quiche, and flan for desert. A wonderful way to end the weekend. Thoroughly exhausted, and with our bellies full, we headed off to begin our trek home. Promptly, we all fell asleep to the rolling lull of the bus.
All in all, it was nothing short of a fantastic weekend!
À la prochaine!
Chris
Fantastic! Love to hear all the juicy and mouth-watering details! Thanks for sharing, Chris. love, Aunt Therese
ReplyDeleteI'm hungry now...thanks for posting Chris :)
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