So, I made my way down to the Carrefour and Telecom to see if they could fix it. As expected, guy behind counter said, “No. It’s broken. We can send it away for you. It usually costs about 100€.” So I called Mama and Papa Lifesavers and they said they’d take care of it! Calloo callay. Because my phone is generally how I time presentations in my classes, how I check my email, how I maintain connections to home and keep my life organized. (Since having it restored to me, I have realized that I also use it to keep time since the computers in the teachers lounge are 8 minutes slow, and my watch is 5-ish minutes fast.)
After going to the phone shop, I went across the roundabout/carrefour, so I could get to the Macdo and download the program recommended to me to get around the new proxy that prevents Facebook and Gmail usage, purchasing tickets on SNCF or EasyJet, and basically anything else that grants me non-Belley life access. (It originally also prohibited YouTube. Those were dark times.) Anyway, while doing an internet blitzkrieg, which I do every time I’m at Macdo, I saw an email from Livia telling me that she wasn’t feeling well and that I could still come to Bellegarde, but the weather forecast/météo was for rain and that she wouldn’t be able to show me around.
As enticing an offer as that was, I was thrilled when immediately after that, Flo skyped me and asked what my weekend plans were. She offered to come get me on Saturday and to take me to Annecy for the day before going chez elle for the evening, and then I’d take the train back to Belley on Sunday. So serendipitous! It sounded like a brilliant plan to me. (I’d also be able to get to a FedEx to mail my phone home since Geneva’s a bit bigger than Belley. Understatement of the blog? Maybs. Too soon to tell.) The only problem was that I’d have to sort myself out for Friday night.
While the idea of spending another solo evening at Bar des Aigles was, I decided to just let it all hang out and wrote Marc a note in French asking if he could please pity me for long enough to invite me along to whatever his Friday evening plans were. He responded via text to say he was going to Bordeaux for the weekend but that we must plan a dinner soon. Back to square one I was.
So I went out to pick up some things for the evening I had ahead of me. I had a moment of inspiration just before stepping out, though, and so I looked up FedEx locations in Belley. Imagine my surprise when I saw that there were several. Looking at their addresses, though, I became undeniably wary since the website said that the FedExes were on completely residential streets. Still, I wrote them down, circling their approximate locations on my Belley map, which covers the entire side of an 8.5x11 sheet of paper, thankyouverymuch.
I went up the first street and came up empty-handed. Then I started walking straight to the Tourist Office because it was nearing the time when FedEx would be closed anyway so I didn’t want to waste time by tramping around Belley looking for stores that didn’t exist. I stopped by one more possible address, though, even though I thought it was the street that only housed the Exotic Shop (meaning African goods). I was right. So I went into the Tourist Office and asked if there was a FedEx in Belley. “What’s FedEx?” the man behind the counter asked me. Generally, not a good sign. So I explained it and he asked his colleague. And she said no. Surprise surprise.
Whatevs. So I went and got some wine from the Petit Casino and a “Japonais” from one of the patisseries.
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| Inside it was chocolate cream. Noms. Also, obese, though. |
This time, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the bar was filled with many people under 55. But, naturally, those were not the people who spoke to me at first. Jacob (the bartender) asked me how my life is, so I told him. He asked me for American money. I promised him I’d bring some next time I go in.
There was suddenly some commotion concerning a large, old man who had been sitting next to me. He was pushed inside by his friends and was repeatedly told to “Ferme la bouche.” (Shut your mouth.) After the whatever that was died down, the guy started talking to me. I have a knack, apparently, for making older drunk French men feel it’s safe to start a conversation with me. So he starts slurring his French to me, and I have to tell him that I don’t understand. But he tells me I have a nice smile. (Actually, he says “your smile” and sighs and opens his arms like to the heavens. That seems about accurate, right?)
Anyway, he peaces out and Jacob starts chatting with me, and I ask what this green drink is that I’ve seen lots of people around Belley drinking. He tells me it’s called “Get Vingt Sept” (that sounds kind of like “Jet van-set”) and pours me a shot for frizzle. I take it slowly. It tastes like mouthwash that you’re supposed to drink.
Eventually, I go home.
Saturday, I laze around because it’s grey outside. Around 2, Flo came to fetch me. It was nice to be in a car going somewhere and not on a bus/train. So we chatted about au pairing and things that I don’t know about until we arrived at Annecy, a town about which people can’t stop raving.
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| Annecy a.k.a. "Little Venice" |
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| Arches all over the place. Tiny shops. Colorful buildings. What more could you want? |
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| How are these fleurs still alive!? |
The next morning, Flo took me to the train station with enough time to get a train ticket. She also showed me how to not get ripped off next time I have to buy a ticket from Geneva center to Geneva airport. Future mission to be accomplished.
After I got back from Geneva, I waited at the train station for two hours to get the bus back to Belley.
Until the next trip back,
Jess
*This line is a reference to "Don't Leave Me."
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