The One Eyed Man is King in a world full of Blind People.

So I figured Id make you all happy and give you a few reasons to smile and laugh today. Just imagining me skiing should have done it, but now you are going to have the details of my skiing adventure. And what an adventure it was. Skiing is a humbling experience. Just because you've managed to survive twenty-odd years on this earth, have moderate success, haven't broken anything or managed to completely ruin something doesn't mean that things will just come easily. I imagined Id have a tough time in the beginning, maybe fall once or twice, but by the end of the day I imagined I would be skiing moderately fast down some tricky looking slopes, my hair flowing in the wind and a huge smile on my face. Well, some of that was true. I rented skis from this place called Decathalon. Hauling all your equipment is a feat in itself that should be recognized as an accomplishment. It was a gorgeous day- I have pictures!- and I wasnt thoroughly frozen until the end of the day. We get picked up on campus by this two-level charter bus that was incredibly fun to ride in around the tight corners and steep hills of the winding mountain roads. I was nervous that we were going to tumble over the sides of the mountains and crash into the small towns below. Gothy and I were surprised at the lack of snow on the way to the top of the mountain- and Megan informed us later that a lot of ski resorts manufacture their own snow. We haven't had a good snow since..the other week when I was so excited about it. Anyway, we went to a place called Sept-Laux. I learned that my level is debutante- I was saddened that there was no fancy dress or special dinner involved with the title- but that means very beginning. My instructor was Megan the Canadian, and although she could speak perfect English, was forced to instruct us in French because there were other people in our group that couldnt understand English. So we climbed and climbed in the bus, then got out of the bus and climbed in our bulky ski boats even higher with our skis hoisted on our shoulders. Once at the top, the debutantes were instructed to put on the skis and walk around a bit. I thought I was doing fine at that, and didnt fall once. I even managed to glisse a bit, and was feeling pretty proud of myself. Then we got on the lift. Truly, my favorite part of the day. The lift takes you about two thousand meters higher and the view is completely stunning. It was silent too, except for my laughter (I laugh in uncomfortable situations) and our overall nervous chatter. So we climbed higher and higher on the lift. We were instructed how to dismount (you get on by skiing and the chair scoops you up) and you dismount by standing up and letting the chair push you a bit and you ski out of the way because the chairs stop for no one. So I get excited and stand up on time, and then Carlos, my Venezuelan friend, falls. Not only does he fall, but he grabs me and pulls me down with him. So we're a pile of skis and the chairs are still coming and one hits me in the back. I am confused as to what to do so Im kind of stranded there and I can hear Gothy's laughter from many feet away. Some good Samiritan lifts me up by the jacket and drags me over to the side. So commences my day of falling. I eventually came to love it, though. If I was going down a slope too quickly, and I couldnt stop the way they told me to, I would throw myself Mission Impossible-style down the slope. And it would be kind of fun. I had snow in every place imaginable- and snow down your pants is hilariously fun. I also had trouble with this other lift. You take this plate thing thats connected to a pole thats connected to the lift and you put it between your legs. This lifts you to the top of the hill so you can ski down. Well, my instructor at the time was Pascal (who referred to me as his "etudiante extraordinaire" and said i had "beacoup d'emotion") who didn't speak a word of English. I couldnt really understand the instructions and attempted to sit down on the small thing, as if it was another chair lift. Well of course, I fell. And all the other guys hanging around have a good laugh. Afterwards, I finally managed to understand how the lift worked and made it to the top. Pascal was behind me screaming something in French- something like "Dont let go yet!" and I , of course, had already let go. So I reach for the plate thing again, got an amazing amount of speed, and went straight over this tiny hill headed straight for a group of small children. So, of course, I threw myself down on the ground. I finally managed to make it to the top of the hill- just to ski down at an incredible vitesse (speed) and fall. It was fun though and my new goal in life is to become a professional skiier. No, really, just to be able to stand for longer than six minutes.

Another demoralizing thing about the whole experience were the children. The kids who seemed to have come from the womb with skiis on their feet and an inane knowledge of slopes and snow. They would dart around you from all directions, and to avoid hitting a standing group of them, you basically had to throw yourself down at their feet. Offer yourself to them, body and soul, if you will.

It was like those kids at the skating rink that are five or six years old and doing pirouettes and things like that, but even more humiliating because youre in the French Alps and have never seen much snow before, much less skiied, much less understand all the instructions that theyre giving you.

I was a bit sunburnt after it all, but I survived. And Im eager to go back again. I was that great kind of exhausted when I got home. I felt as if I had really accomplished something and was pushing my boundaries. Maybe next time, Ill go for a full day.

Or maybe not.

So the next morning I woke up at 545am to go to Avignon. I cant decide which purse to take and end up leaving my camera. My friend Ashley was nice enough to take pictures and let me copy them to my computer, so I have them and whenever I upload pictures again, I will definitely have some cool ones. The train ride to Avignon was about 3 hours. Avignon is a medieval city that was kind of the Pope's home away from home for the reign of six Popes. It was it's own country, like the Vatican- and whenever you referred to Avignon you had to use the preposition "en" which is reserved for countries, and not "a" which refers to cities. We had a student tour guide, Celine, who was friendly and outgoing. The streets are mostly cobbled and very close together. The Palais des Papes was huge! and we only toured 40% of it. It's a huge medieval fortress and I felt like I was right out of Hamlet when we toured it. I kept looking for Ophelia. Also, every summer there is a festival where different troupes from around the world present their "spectacles", or plays. Apparently, theyre really modern now and kind of strange, so says my host family, but Id love to see Avignon in the summer. I did see the pont- what very little bit is left of it- and the gardens around the Palais and the church were beautiful. I saw a nun, too, and that was fun. I got to use my Art History knowledge and its so wonderful seeing these things in textbooks literally come to life. Amazing.

So, as a combination of all that, I became sick again. I think the kiwis and the Claritin are helping me get over it (once again) and my Aleve is aleviating (ha) the soreness from skiing. I really am eager to go again. Valentine's Day was fun- I got my card from the Family last night and it made me SO HAPPY that I shed a tear or two. I showed my entire host family and they thought it was sweet, too. Valentines isnt that big over here, but I did get my host mom a bouquet of purple tulips that were just beautiful. My friend, the only guy in the group, fell off a bridge on Valentine's Day and is in the hospital. I went to visit him and now have French hospital stories, but that's for another time. The petits-enfants, the grandkids, are here for a week. Two of them- Clement and Marine all the way from Toulouse. They come up to my knees and make as much noise as a Mardi Gras parade, but they are delightful. Im happy that theyre here and they each gave me two kisses hello, goodnight, and goodbye this morning. Adorable. I think Marine is about 4 and Clement 3, but Im a bad estimator of children's ages and I feel bad asking because I feel like it's something I should already know. When I first got home last night, they occupied themselves for about an hour sneaking into my room, screaming, and then running back out. Marine has this pink plastic iron and she would randomly come in my room and iron things, too. It was really cute, but man, are they loud.

Although, I can understand their French almost perfectly. Ha.

And the woman at the hospital said I had a good accent, even if I am from Texas. So that made me happy as well.

Oh, and the kebab guys at Oasis love me. I brought them a lot of business the other day and they gave me free food. Ah, the humanity.

Grenoble has been rainy the past couple of days. Ive gotten some amazing pictures out of it though. The mountains turn almost black, and the snow glows a bright white against them, and the clouds are so incredibly low you feel as if you could touch them. The rain is different too. Constant, and gentle, no big storms yet. No crashing thunder or lightning, just constant rain.

Anyway, so that's about all I have for now.

Groses bises,

Chelsea