Dear Mom and Daddy,
Thank you very much for the letter! It was brought to me at the lunch table–a very pleasant surprise. I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to write–but I decided to wait until I got to Clermont. (Everyone just calls it Clermont.)
I must clear up one thing first. The six others you told me would be in France are the AFSers from countries other than the USA. There are also 32 other Americans besides me. I’m not sure, but I think I mentioned Roberto in my first letter to you–he’s the Uruguayan. A lot of his mannerisms remind me of sister L. and her husband Bob.
Anyway, all 39 of us came to Bourg-Saint-Maurice for our week of orientation. We lived in the dorms until one morning my four roommates and I were moved out to make room for a group of handicapped persons. We were installed in a sort of flat that families usually inhabit. It was really nice to live there for the last few days. We had kitchen equipment and our own bathroom and water closet. (We no longer had walk down a long hall to the john!) And it was nice to have a table to sit at and talk with our other friends who came up. In the dorms, there wasn’t much room for anything but beds and suitcases. One nice thing about both places–they had balconies where we always went out on to sing and play the guitar or just sit and watch the Alps.
The weather at Village Vallée Haute was warm whenever the sun was actually out. (It was for the first few days.) But we had a thunderstorm and then clouds and fog and rain for a couple of days. In the morning the Alps were very white whenever they peeked out from the clouds.
The main reason for this camp was to sort of ease us into the shock of the French culture by throwing us into their vacation place. Also, it was to make a solidarity between us AFSers in France.
On Saturday the 23rd of August, a bus came and took us up to Tigne Dam–much higher in the Alps. ( In French it was called Barrage de Tigne, barrage means dam so I hope I translated it right.) That was the most beautiful bus ride I’ve ever taken. We climbed and wound higher into the lovely green mountains. When I looked down, out of the window of the bus, I was looking down about 2,000 feet.
Every now and then we would drive through a narrow street through a little stone village with geraniums in all the window boxes. Or we would look across the canyon at little villages and cottages perched on the lush, green slopes. When we finally reached the dam, we were in the clouds. That’s the first time I’ve ever gone to the rain instead of it coming to me. After touring the dam (it was fascinating) we drove higher into the Alps to the ski resort of Val d‘Isère. It’s quite a tourist trap, but still picturesque to me. Anyway, at least we weren’t there during ski season. We were allowed to get out and explore for 45 minutes. Sarah (my friend, another Californian) and I immediately wanted to go see the old stone church whose spire we could see. It was a lovely old place, and we went inside and stared at the gilded ;paintings and statues of Mary and candleabras. Then we decided we were cold, so we stopped in a little café and ordered a café which was in a demi-tasse, very thick and very good.
Oh something I forgot– on our way to the dam, we stopped in a little village to tour a real, old fashioned tannery. Not a factory, but a place that is run by one old man and his apprentice. They warned us about the smell (dead cow smell, dung, etc.) but it didn’t bother me because it was so interesting. The man showed us how they take the hair off the hide and how they soften it and cure it, etc. (If you’re wondering how I understand these people who speak French– I don’t. Not enough, at least. The AFS staff members translate into English for our benefit.)
Mom, there is one French custom concerning food that I know you would absolutely adore. Lunch and dinner are always finished with cheese and fruit. Usually a few different kinds of cheese. I’ve tasted so many cheeses that in America cost a fortune. Bleu cheese, Camembert, goat cheese and many others that I didn’t retain the name of. Some smelled pretty rank, but you get used to it. The way it is eaten is like so: you slice off some cheese and put it on your plate. (Often the same as your dinner plate which you have cleaned up with a piece of bread.) Then you rip off a piece of bread and spread some cheese on it and eat it. When you are finished you have some fruit.
The area of France that Bourg-Saint-Maurice is in is called the Savoie–they are famous for some of their cheeses. When I come back to America, I don’t know how I’m going to get rid of all these wonderful table manners that are considered very rude in America: elbows on the table, wiping up plates with bread and scooping things onto your fork with your knife.
For things to drink–syrups are very, very common. Similar to grenadine–they have orange, lemon, crème de menthe, etc. You pour a little in the bottom of your glass and add water. Also alas, Pepsi-Cola for God’s sake. I had beer with my lunch a couple of times–a very weak beer that comes in a liter bottle. (No, you don’t drink a whole liter!) Also, every now and then I would be at a table for dinner that had wine. The wine isn’t strong at all either. It couldn’t be because the adults drink quite a bit of it. Also it’s not unusual to take half a glass of wine and add water to it. I did that a few times.
At this vacation camp, nothing in the way of food was wasted. We were also told that all of France is that way. For instance, there is always a basket of bread on the table. If all of it is not eaten, it is dumped back into the original large basket of bread. And at breakfast, if you don’t use all the butter or jam you put in a little glass dish, you put it back and someone else will take it. The main course dishes that were left over were taken back to the kitchen and utilized somehow. I know that leftover vegetables were pureed to make the soup that started off dinner every night.
Did I tell you about the crêpes? At the village (the vacation village, not Bourg-St-Maurice; St Maurice had many pâtisseries), a little hut opens up between 4:30 and 6:30 p.m. and sells crêpes because dinner isn’t until 8:00 p.m. They are made one at a time on a large round griddle and then flipped over onto another griddle. Butter is spread on’em, then sugar or jam and then they are wrapped in foil and given to you for between 38 and 52 cents! This is a very popular snack in France and can be bought at any pâtisserie or a place selliing only crêpes called a crêperie.
I’ll tell you about Clermont in my next letter. Love, F.
chicogirlinfrance1975 