Bric-à-brac
Just a couple of quick notes today, with no particular theme.
First, I've switched apartments. No, I haven't gotten a proper apartment (I visited 5 more apartments yesterday), but I have switched rooms in the same building. The new apartment is smaller (it's about the size of my last dorm room at Mudd) but significantly nicer and cheaper. It doesn't have the same "charm" as the old one (every single scrap of furniture is from IKEA), but it also doesn't have the same "smell" or "unusual stains on the walls." I will post a picture of Basil in his new digs soon.
I was able to switch french classes as well, so last night I had my first class at level B1. It was definitely much more my style. The teacher was enthusiastic and friendly; the students were... well, almost all of the student were older than me (by a lot) and German, so it was an odd group. We had to do an activity at the beginning of class wherein we talked to the people next to us and came up with a list of 3 things that we had in common. The two women sitting next to me were both middle-aged Germans, so we had a tough time finding things in common. One of them didn't like to travel. The other didn't like to walk in the mountains. Neither of them liked fondue, or swiss wine. All we could agree on was that we "liked to garden," which was a bit of a stretch for me since poor ol' Basil is all the garden I have.
I also learned an interesting word today, as well. Did you know that the French word for "a potluck" is un repas canadien, which means "a Canadian meal." Is having a potluck something that French people consider truly Canadian, like Hockey and Tim Horton's? Or do French people think that Canadians are a bunch of cheapskates who don't provide food for their guests? In that sense, is it like all the English words that were invented to mock the Dutch (dutch uncle, dutch treat, dutch wife, dutch labmate, etc.)? Either way, I think we (us Americans, that is) should do our best to displace "potluck" in favor of "Canadian dinner." I think it has a nice ring to it.
I went on a killer hike Sunday, up in the Neuchâtel region. Not counting when I got lost (I didn't actually have a map, just some inadequate instructions I printed off of the internet), I hiked about 14 miles, from the Motiers train station, up the gorge of La Poëta-Raisse, over to the breathtaking Creux du Van, and finally down to the Noiraigue train station. Portions of the hike were absolutely gorgeous (see my pictures below), while other portions were less than ideal. It's difficult to find anywhere in Switzerland that's truly isolated -- you're almost never more than a mile from a road -- so hiking a long route means wandering through town every hour or two. Thus, the "trail" is often the "road" and when it isn't paved, it usually leads through a pasture. Since I've seen violent, fighting cows with my own eyes here in Switzerland, I found it a little bit unsettling to have to walk amongst them. They look at you. They follow you. And sometimes, they just freak out for no reason whatsoever and start trotting away from you. In general, I would have preferred less cows.
On the positive side, this also means that you pass by a lot of little restaurants. Sunday was the first time that I had climbed a gorge, crossed through miles of pastures, and then enjoyed a nice chilled glass of white wine on the patio of a charming country restaurant. Not a bad way to take a break. Anyway, pictures below.
Fig. 1: So picturesque. And the gorge isn't half-bad either.
Fig. 2: Gorgeous gorges.
Fig. 3: As if one needed more reasons to be fearful of cows.
Fig. 4: At first I thought this was an ugly flower. Then I realized it was the most awesome mushroom I have ever seen in my life. If I'm not mistaken, this variety is primarily found in World 4-3.
Fig. 5: Staying hydrated is key to a successful hike.
Fig. 6: Just an awful picture of a truly beautiful place. The Creux du Van is accessible either by hiking all day (the route I chose) or by driving to Le Soliat and walking about 50 feet.
Fig. 7: From the small "Petting Zoo" in Les Oeuillons, near the end of the hike. Isn't he just the cutest thing you ever saw? Too adorable!
First, I've switched apartments. No, I haven't gotten a proper apartment (I visited 5 more apartments yesterday), but I have switched rooms in the same building. The new apartment is smaller (it's about the size of my last dorm room at Mudd) but significantly nicer and cheaper. It doesn't have the same "charm" as the old one (every single scrap of furniture is from IKEA), but it also doesn't have the same "smell" or "unusual stains on the walls." I will post a picture of Basil in his new digs soon.
I was able to switch french classes as well, so last night I had my first class at level B1. It was definitely much more my style. The teacher was enthusiastic and friendly; the students were... well, almost all of the student were older than me (by a lot) and German, so it was an odd group. We had to do an activity at the beginning of class wherein we talked to the people next to us and came up with a list of 3 things that we had in common. The two women sitting next to me were both middle-aged Germans, so we had a tough time finding things in common. One of them didn't like to travel. The other didn't like to walk in the mountains. Neither of them liked fondue, or swiss wine. All we could agree on was that we "liked to garden," which was a bit of a stretch for me since poor ol' Basil is all the garden I have.
I also learned an interesting word today, as well. Did you know that the French word for "a potluck" is un repas canadien, which means "a Canadian meal." Is having a potluck something that French people consider truly Canadian, like Hockey and Tim Horton's? Or do French people think that Canadians are a bunch of cheapskates who don't provide food for their guests? In that sense, is it like all the English words that were invented to mock the Dutch (dutch uncle, dutch treat, dutch wife, dutch labmate, etc.)? Either way, I think we (us Americans, that is) should do our best to displace "potluck" in favor of "Canadian dinner." I think it has a nice ring to it.
I went on a killer hike Sunday, up in the Neuchâtel region. Not counting when I got lost (I didn't actually have a map, just some inadequate instructions I printed off of the internet), I hiked about 14 miles, from the Motiers train station, up the gorge of La Poëta-Raisse, over to the breathtaking Creux du Van, and finally down to the Noiraigue train station. Portions of the hike were absolutely gorgeous (see my pictures below), while other portions were less than ideal. It's difficult to find anywhere in Switzerland that's truly isolated -- you're almost never more than a mile from a road -- so hiking a long route means wandering through town every hour or two. Thus, the "trail" is often the "road" and when it isn't paved, it usually leads through a pasture. Since I've seen violent, fighting cows with my own eyes here in Switzerland, I found it a little bit unsettling to have to walk amongst them. They look at you. They follow you. And sometimes, they just freak out for no reason whatsoever and start trotting away from you. In general, I would have preferred less cows.
On the positive side, this also means that you pass by a lot of little restaurants. Sunday was the first time that I had climbed a gorge, crossed through miles of pastures, and then enjoyed a nice chilled glass of white wine on the patio of a charming country restaurant. Not a bad way to take a break. Anyway, pictures below.
Fig. 1: So picturesque. And the gorge isn't half-bad either.
Fig. 2: Gorgeous gorges.
Fig. 3: As if one needed more reasons to be fearful of cows.
Fig. 4: At first I thought this was an ugly flower. Then I realized it was the most awesome mushroom I have ever seen in my life. If I'm not mistaken, this variety is primarily found in World 4-3.
Fig. 5: Staying hydrated is key to a successful hike.
Fig. 6: Just an awful picture of a truly beautiful place. The Creux du Van is accessible either by hiking all day (the route I chose) or by driving to Le Soliat and walking about 50 feet.
Fig. 7: From the small "Petting Zoo" in Les Oeuillons, near the end of the hike. Isn't he just the cutest thing you ever saw? Too adorable!
Comments
Post a Comment