Trees don't blow

Wow. These past few days have been so long, and I barely sleep... so much for being at a spa.

Today the counselors took the kids to this intense ropes course in the Alps... we had to get harnessed into our gear so we could swing and climb and zip through the trees.  Now, when I say this course was intense, that's actually an understatement... the course is set up like a ski slope; there were like 50 trails/rope courses, and every one had a difficulty level... and each course used a ski term (a blue course, a black diamond course, and double black diamond courses, which are essentially deathly) to describe the difficulty of each one.  I planned on zip-lining through some of the single black diamonds, but as the kids weren't allowed to go on the double blacks, I never imagined I'd need to go down these courses.  Long story longer, the kids didn't listen to the rules and they went on the double black diamond courses, and naturally I had to follow them to make sure they didn't die...

Last night, to celebrate the Fourth of July even though we are in France, we had relay races, which the American counselors deemed "an American activity."  After what seemed like 8 hours of relay races, the counselors tried to do yoga with the kids to calm them down before they got back to the hotel.  In explaining one yoga position, one of the counselors said, "Pretend like you are a tree blowing in the wind," to which one of the kids shouted out, "Trees don't blow; they get blown."

One of the counselors here, Amandine, is French but is also fluent in German, so naturally I talk to her in German all the time.  One kid asked me the other day, "Do you do anything besides sing and talk in German?" which was quite hysterical.  I'm realizing that my German is stronger than my French, although my French is coming back to me day by day.  At UMich, my French courses are either all about analyzing Senegalese films about female genital mutilation, rape, and slavery, or they're about interpreting existentialism and Sartre... so naturally my vocabulary to speak to 7 year olds is quite rusty.

Alas, I have to go to dinner now.  By the way, I forgot to mention how luscious the bread is here.  I eat baguettes at every meal (in the morning with chocolate, bien sur!) and every time I do, I feel like I'm in the opening scene of "Beauty and the Beast" where Belle is walking through that little French street... Wow, I sound really gay right now.  Speaking of which, there's this kid here who is desperately trying to set me up with his sister... not gonna happen.

A tout a l'heure!

Jacob