Ma Famille

The whole process of meeting our host families was a little bizarre. We sat along the wall in a hotel conference room and waited (with terror, at least on my part, after being informed my family spoke ZERO english, which is true) for the families to arrive. Mine, the Andrés, were the first to show up, with a picture of me that we had to send in with the application in hand. I met the mother, Catherine, who quickly proved to me that I would become her own daughter quite quickly. The only thing that I had heard about my family before meeting them was that Catherine loves to cook and loves it even more when others love to eat her food. She tells me that she expects all of her students to gain a good bit of weight when staying with her-which shouldn't be too hard since we had steak fondue with rice and cheese for lunch the day I got there. At every meal (actually, at every conversation, regardless if there's food or not), I am told in some way or another that all the food in the house is mine, asked if I want any food, or told to eat more food...Ce qui est dans le frigo est le mien. C'est mon frigo (everything in the fridge is mine, it's my refrigerator).

Which brings me to my next point-no one speaks English. At all. I can understand most everything that is said (even on top of the extremely heavy Spanish accent my host mom has), but responding is a little harder, so hand gestures and roundabout descriptions/awkward synonyms are a must. Catherine is Spanish (speaks Spanish, French, Italian) and the father, Richard, is Swiss. There are 2 kids, Valentin (12) and Helène (14) plus Igor, the golden retriever (who might as well be considered one of the children...he takes family vacations to Spain...) living at home. Valentin takes Judo lessons and wants to be a police officer when he grows up, and Helene wants to be a doctor, which is actually a pretty legitimate claim, even at her age, because this is her final year of obligatory schooling, after which she will choose to continue her studies rather than go into apprenticeship (our version of an internship but more of a vocational training without school). For a 14 year old, Helene is one of the most mature and well-spoken people I have ever met. She took me on a tour of their Village, Yens, and was more knowledgeable about its history and happenings than I think I am about all of the United States, let alone Atlanta.

Speaking of Yens, it's absolutely breathtaking. All of the students on the program live in a small village outside of Geneva, because we have class in both Geneva and Nyon (both reachable by train). My house is surrounded my miles of vineyards (apparently Switzerland is known for their wine?) in every direction, and the view from this hillside wonderland is a horizon of neighboring France along a backdrop of the Alps (in which the Andres have a ski chalet, to be visited next weekend...yikes). In the 'commercial' part of the village, there is a school, playground, church, and BAKERY. A necessary establishment in every town here. Bummer...

Sundays are a day of rest, and most everything is closed, so we are spending the day relaxing and watching the snow...baking pastries (a favorite pastime of Helene) and playing with Igor. Rough life...