La semaine final- Talking About The Trolls

A lot happened this week that I really want to remember. I tried to write it all down so I could type it up later, but I'm just not sure I got it all. For instance, I really don't remember what happened Tuesday at all. I had class all day, though, so I'm sure it wasn't very interesting.
Wednesday, though, after class, a group of us decided that we needed to go to the Monastery that lies at one of the highest points in Annecy and overlooks everything. But, not so much in a loomy way as in a pretty, old, building in the country way. It's nice.

It was closed, of course, when we got there (at like six), but we didn't really care; the point was to go and see it, not to spend an hour inside staring at windows. We wanted to find a really good view for taking pictures of Annecy, and we asked this guy who told us (in very VERY fast French) where to go. We only got a few of the words, though, like "wall," and "under," and "campsite," so we set off in the general direction that he pointed us in to see what we could find. We did eventually find the campsite, after debating at nearly every branch in the road which way to go, regarding our insufficient map, and dealing with Mike insisting that he would find the way with his "magic baguette," which had, at this point, become a standard joke for us. We went in to the campsite (after missing the door and having to turn around) and realized that there really was no way we were going to get that perfect view; there are too many trees in the foreground of any picture you take, no matter where you are. Unless, maybe, a roof, which we did consider doing but decided against it.

(Ominous clouds are ominous)

The sky continued looking ominous and scary the entire time we were there, and we decided to skip out and get dinner in a cafe somewhere in Veille Ville. It began raining about the time that we got back down to the main street in Veille Ville, and those of us in the group who had dinner with their host parents wandered on home. Mattias, Jessica (pronouced "Yessica") and Lisa and I all went to a cafe that was literally on my doorstep because I knew they had Tartiflette and I knew that I needed Tartiflette at least once before I left the region which made it famous.
It is a famous dish for a reason. It was SO delicious. We got a mini salad with the meal, and we all shared a bottle of wine and then none of us spoke for about twenty minutes because we were just eating and seriously enjoying our Tartiflette. I was just about to die it was so good. It's a cheesy dish with potatoes and ham and cheese and some more cheese (YAY lactose intolerance!) and it was SO SO SO good. I want it forever and always.
So then we were really full and just sat and talked for a while. Eventually we (somehow) decided that we wanted dessert. They had... ice cream. And some more ice cream. Oh, this night. We each got a thing of ice cream, and for a while, we kept pondering amongst ourselves about the meaning of "cantilla" which came with almost every dish. We finally just asked the lady, who made a circular upward motion with her hand and a whooshing sound with her mouth. Whipped cream, everybody.

(Ice-cream with cantilla)

After the delicious and way-too-dairy-based-for-my-body-to-handle dinner, we agreed to go home and change and then meet up with everyone else at the Munich at ten (it had, thankfully, stopped raining at this point). I went outside and walked into my building (I was serious when I said it was right there: I literally just had to step out of the restaurant and walk five steps to the door), and I promptly, after having had too much wine, went to sleep.
Needless to say, I did not go out that night.
Thursday
In the morning, I had to take the TCF (French level standardized test) which sucked, because not only do I hate standardized tests, but it was in French. Also, the CD for the oral section of the test skipped a lot and there were several questions that I did not understand because of that. The proctor wrote down the questions that skipped, but I don't know if the answers will be forgiven or not. I hope so! By the time I was done with the test, I didn't care anymore.
Class involved learning slang phrases in French, including "Caisse-toi, pauvre con," which roughly translates to "F**k off, a**hole," and which the French President said to a man who refused to shake his hand at a greeting or something (I'm sure you heard about it on the news), but I didn't understand the big deal at the time. Kind-of like when Obama called Kanye as jackass, just worse.
We also got our tests back, which I got an A on (yay!) but that was all that interested me in class.
After class, though, Amanda, Martin, Mattias and I went to the supermarket and got alcohol for the night, while, right next to us, our teacher Isabelle stocked up on chips. It was amusing. After that, Amanda and I went to hang out in my house. We listened to music and I packed my suitcase and we ate some pre-dinner dinner. We walked over to the student dorms for the picnic dinner which was going to be inside because it was raining. Everything was set up in the community kitchen and there was so much food! Bread and cheese and wine, but also a stir-fry and rice and then someone brought a giant stack of crepes with nutella. Daniel had his guitar and we all sang a bunch of songs. It was really fun, and we were there until about eleven (so many people were taking pictures all the time), after which we went to the park and... did more of the exact same thing. The police came by a couple times and stopped, not to tell us off but to listen to our singing. It was pretty funny. My throat hurt the next day from all the singing and alcohol but it was worth it. What a fun night.
The view from the lake was really beautiful, as well.

(Also, because of the rain, the ground lights in the park were smoking). 

Friday morning class wasn't productive at all, we spent two hours talking about homeless people and then we all went into a room and watched Vilaine, which is a mockery of Amelie and was really funny.

We went to "graduation" which was not at all well organized (there were a few people who weren't there because they hadn't told us about it until a couple hours before), and got our Diploma's. I am officially level B1+ in French and got the grade of "très bien," which I sure hope is an A.

We left school (technically I still had a class in the afternoon to attend but I figured since I just graduated, it would be okay to skip...) and went to a restaurant that serves fondu, since that is a speciality of this region. It's a specialty because, after a long day of mountaineering, it is a very filling dinner... so French people ONLY eat it after long days of exercise. It's a big tourist attraction, though, and we just had to try it. I didn't end up buying any because I was already full from the after graduation snack bar, but I did try a piece or two and it is, indeed, delicious.

My favorite part of that meal? Not the food. We were talking about a couple of Swedish students that hadn't ended up coming with us, and Martin (also Swedish), said "Talking about the trolls- they're coming." The immediate reaction of all of us Americans was... what? trolls? Where? Why are trolls coming? What are you talking about? WHAT? 
"Don't you have that expression in English?" 
I was the first to get the translation problem.
"OH. Martin- you mean "Speak of the devil."
"Right! That. Sorry. In Swedish, it's "talk about the trolls."
I don't think I've ever laughed harder than I did then. And I plan on using that expression ALL the time, now. So get ready.
After Fondu, we wanted to go swim in the lake (for most of us, the last time), and we thought about going to the beach but somehow just ended up in the park and jumping of into the water from the sidewalk. I don't think it's entirely legal, but it's one of those things no police officer will site you for unless you're being dangerous. We spent a lot of time just laying in the sun (the first sunny day in what feels like forever), and enjoying each others company. We, of course, made plans to visit each other in the future, involving the idea of everyone just moving to Hawaii, where the majority of Ifalpes students from this July live. I know, from years of camp experience, that I will most likely never see any of these people again. The whole day, whenever I've had a moment to myself, I just get this sick feeling of regret that will only be satiated by my return home. Thankfully, my three days alone in Paris will not actually be alone, as Tarra, Crystal, and Amanda and going to be there, too. We may not do everything together, but at least we'll be in familiar company some of the time.

I am really going to miss the people here. I feel like this past week has been the one when I've actually started making real connections, finding my group, and making real progress with the language. Next time, I'll come for at least a semester (though I think even that will not be long enough in any one place). There will always be too much that I will want to do and see and live through for me to have been in a place for "enough time." That idea simply doesn't exist for me...