The Tooth Fairy is a ...

Today I am moving out of my apartment. I am headed to the Cite Universitaire, which is a student housing area with two buildings of student dormitories and one building of shared apartments. I will be moving into the building of shared apartments. Hopefully my roommates will be fun, nice, clean people.

Recently, I learned something that I thought was pretty funny. Here in Switzerland they do not believe in the Tooth Fairy. Still, they do believe that when a child loses a tooth, someone does come to take the tooth from under the pillow. However, instead of being a fairy, they believe that a little mouse comes to take the tooth in exchange for a Swiss franc or two. I think I would prefer to imagine a fairy in my room rather than a mouse.

The weather is really cooling off here. I am unaccustomed to wearing pants and a coat in late August, but that has been the case lately. I guess the months of September and October are pretty ugly and rainy. People cannot seem to believe this when I tell them, but I am actually looking forward to having a real winter this year. I know that I will probably regret saying this by Thanksgiving, but it gets old having sun and warm weather 24/7 like I had in Miami.

Tomorrow I am going to Venice with Ana. We will be staying with her grandparents Wednesday and Thursday night and going into the city on Thursday. I am excited to visit Venice. The first time I came to Europe I made a list of my top 10 European cities I wanted to visit, and I think Venice and Dublin are the only ones I have still not visited. I will be sure to take plenty of pictures in Venice.

Speaking of pictures, I have found that Europeans do not smile big, toothy smiles for pictures. While it is the custom for many Americans to show off their pearly whites in photos, Europeans think this is strange. Instead, they prefer to show a small, toothless grin for pictures. I refuse to conform to this, though, so I will continue to show big, toothy smiles. Maybe this is a result of Europeans lacking the same dental hygiene that we are accustomed to in America. That is the theory with which I am sticking.

An American Passed the French Exam

Well, I have officially passed the French exam proving that I have at least a level B2 in French. I got my results yesterday, and I was fortunate enough to have passed. So enough studying for a few weeks. My class ends tomorrow, and now I can finally relax and enjoy my 3 weeks of true summer vacation before classes start September 20.

I have a few trips planned coming up. In the making for next week, Ana and I are looking into a quick trip to Venice. Her grandparents live outside the city, and we may stay with them for a couple nights and go into the city during the day. Next, I just booked airfare to Berlin. I will be going there to pick up my student visa, and I've invited a few friends to go, so hopefully at least one of them will be able to go along for the trip. Otherwise, I'll just have to rely on making friends at the party hostels there.

I was recently told that I dress too American. That is to say, I am not European enough with my clothes. If being less American in my appearance involves dressing like some of these European guys, then I am not interested. For example, it is commonplace for men over here to wear capri pants. Plus, most of the guys wear jean shorts, or jorts, instead of khaki shorts or athletic shorts. And when they wear jeans, a lot of them wear jeans with zippers all over the place. What is with all the zippers? Another look that is popular is the Euro mohawk, more commonly known as the fohawk. This haircut is accompanied by large amounts of hair gel.

Also, when I had my French oral exam, the professors administering the exam asked me, "Why didn't you study French in America?" I thought to myself, "I never said I was American. Is it really that obvious?"

Speaking of this oral exam, I had a few difficult moments. At one point, the lady asked me what the word savon (soap) means. I could not remember, so I tried to ramble on and BS my way through the answer. She would have none of it. She said, "That's great, but what does savon mean? What is there a lot of in Marseille?" I responded that there is a lot of water in Marseille. She was not amused. Then I remembered, and told her that it was soap. Apparently the soaps in Marseille are well-known. Am I the only one in the world who does not know this?

I had always been proud to be American, but it was never an overwhelming sense of pride. However, now that I have lived in Spain for 5 months and Switzerland for 3 months, I must say that I feel more proud than ever to be an American. I am not sure why it happened this way for me, but it is how I feel. Perhaps because I see all of the great things we have in America. Maybe because the people are in general more warm and fun. Or it could be the professional and college sports. Something causes this strong sense of patriotism once I am abroad, I just have yet to put my finger on the exact source. I'll keep looking.

C1 Level, Crazy Teacher, and Grocery Stores

These are just a few pictures of me in Switzerland.

On Monday I took an unofficial French placement exam to be placed in a more challenging class for the final 3 weeks. Somehow I tested into the C1 level, which is really ridiculous in my opinion. I am with a bunch of students who have studied French or lived in a French speaking country for 4+ years. I am pretty good at hiding my weaknesses, though. I have learned a lot of shortcuts with the language to avoid problematic sentences. My writing is still weak, but the speaking and understanding are there.

I have to study like a madman the next week because my first try at the language exam is next Thursday. I am not too sure how that will go, but I guess I can see my problem areas if I fail the first time and try to study for the second attempt in early September.

My new teacher is a nice enough guy, but he is old and has some pretty absurd policies. For example, he told us the first day, "No drinking bottled water in class. Put it away." Someone objected based on the heat and lack of air conditioning in the room. He responded, "Water does not help you with the heat. That is the bottled water companies paying doctors and medical experts to say that water is good for you so the companies can sell more water." Additionally, he has worn the EXACT same outfit the first three days of class. I imagine he has not even changed his underwear.

I have bought a lot of groceries here (obviously), and I have a few complaints with the grocery stores. First of all, there are only two different grocery stores in all of Switzerland: Migros and Coop. They have obviously never considered a free-market economy based on competition because the products are the exact same and so are the prices. I need some variety in my grocery-shopping life. Second, the grocery stores close at 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, 6 p.m. Saturday, and are closed all day Sunday. This presents a problem if I forget to stock up for a few days. Additionally, the Migros does not sell alcohol. Third, the grocery stores charge a fee for bags. I like this concept because it contributes to sustainability. I use the same bag over and over again as do most people.

Getting Hustled in Geneva

There is a game I have seen being played along the streets of Geneva. It involves a person, I'll call him the house. The house has a miniature red carpet that he lays on the ground in front of him. He has three little boxes and a little white ball that sit atop the little red carpet. He puts the ball under one of the boxes, and then the house moves the boxes quickly while saying, "One, two three, one, two, three, one, two, three..." At the end, the people watching bet against the house in the hopes of having chosen the correct little box and doubling their money. This game is called bonneteau.

When I was first in Geneva, I was tempted to play a time or two thinking I would bet 10 francs and potentially come out with 20. I am not a huge gambler. Luckily for me, I never played. The other day there was an article in the newspaper about this game. Apparently it is a huge scam and the house never loses. The house has accomplices, usually two or three well-dressed adults. These accomplices bet 50-100 francs per round, usually losing, but sometimes winning. The house then takes their money or pays them, thereby enticing other people passing by to attempt to play. The house goes extremely so and makes it painfully obvious where the little white ball is when his accomplices bet. This creates the allusion for tourists that they can beat the house.

Back to the article I read. Apparently, there was a woman who gambled 1000 francs on a round of bonneteau. I do not know how stupid, wealthy, or wealthy and stupid a person would have to be to do that, but she did nonetheless. When she lost, the house took her 1000 francs and scampered away. However, she ran after him and started screaming and causing a scene the next place he stopped to play. The house gave her back 900 francs and ran off again.

I saw some people playing bonneteau today, and I decided to stop and watch. Sure enough, there were three people standing up front betting a lot of money--the accomplices. Then, an eager tourist bet and lost 50 francs. Some people were standing on the outskirts watching, and they started yelling "fraud," "cheat," "Go f*** yourself." One man took out his cell phone and started to call the police. The house and his accomplices yelled a slur of curse words and took off, surely to find their next unknowing victim.

So if you are ever in Europe, do NOT play the game with the little red carpet, the three little boxes, and the little white ball. Stay far, far away.

Bern and the Bern Bears

I visited Bern, the capital of Switzerland, on Monday. It is the fourth largest Swiss city with a population of around 120,000 people. It rained the whole day, but I still really liked Bern a lot. German is the main language in Bern, but English and French are common as well. Albert Einstein actually lived for seven years in Bern, and he reflects on that time in several biographies as being "the fondest years" of his life. Bern became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983.

The first picture seen above is taken from the famous Bern clock tower. Our tour guide made us wait 10 minutes in the rain just to see the hour turn on the clock. It wasn't quite what I was hoping for after standing in the rain.

The second picture is of the famous bears of Bern. I was told there were bears in Bern, but I expected them to be in a zoo. That was not the case. We were crossing the bridge over the river, and there were the bears on the edge of the river in a roomy cage. There were four bears: Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and two baby bears. As I stood over them and watched them, I couldn't stop thinking of the scene in Anchorman when Will Ferrell jumps into the bear pit and says "I immediately regret this decision."

The third picture is taken close to the parliament building overlooking the river. The river forms a horseshoe shape as it winds through Bern. The city itself was very uneven and my ears kept popping all day from the continuous change in altitude.

The fourth picture shows the Bern flag and the Swiss flag. Each Swiss canton has its own flag, and then obviously the country has its own flag. Bern's flag displays (what else) a bear; Geneva's shows an eagle and a key.

So the Jerk Store Called

Anyone who is a Seinfeld fan has undoubtedly seen the episode: The Jerk Store. In this episode, George is inhaling a plate of shrimp at a meeting, and his coworker takes a shot at him by saying, "Hey George, the ocean called, and it said it's running out of shrimp." Everyone laughs at George's expense, and George is not quick enough to think of a comeback. He thinks of a comeback 10 minutes later, but alas, at that point it is too late. His comeback: "Well the jerk store called, and it said it's running out of YOU." He then goes to extreme efforts to re-create the scene so that he can employ his clever comeback.

I had a similar encounter Friday night. I went to one of Ana's friend's birthday parties a little bit outside of Geneva. It was cool. There were a bunch of people in their mid-20s, many of them interning with the UN or World Health/World Trade Organization. Everyone spoke perfect English, and most people spoke at least 2 other languages fluently. Pretty impressive.

However, there was of course the ass of the party who was pretty drunk and may or may not have been under the influence of other drugs. He was wearing sunglasses at night, and when he passed I joked with him (in French) "It is pretty sunny tonight." He retorted with a slur of a sentence, which I did not understand. Then he said, "Just admit it, your French is not good." I guess his slurred words were implying that I don't speak clearly in French. I was kind of taken aback. Most people are friendly and complimentary when I use my French here. Then he rambled off some sentences quickly in French trying to embarrass me. But I understood and shot back the response to which he said, "Oh well, speaking and understanding are two different things aren't they?"

I didn't have a clever response, but 5 minutes later I found myself like George wanting to re-create the moment so I could use one of my surefire insults that were sure to hit where it hurts. I'm anxiously awaiting the moment where I can attempt to re-create the scene and employ one of my witty comebacks.

On another note, I hate my neck hair. My close friends all know that the hair on the back of my neck grows in a bizarre pattern: two vertical columns and a bald spot in the middle. I normally shave my neck with my electric razor or have a friend do it for me. When I lived in Spain, I used to make Stephanie or Ahyoung, my roommates, shave it for me. They hated it. However, I fried my electric razor in the outlet here because I forgot the voltage was not compatible. So I am without a razor to shave my neck.

As a result, I dared to ask Ana to wax my neck hair for me. I was curious about it, and girls are always talking about how waxing is way better than shaving. I figured I could handle it no problem, right? Wrong. It hurt so damn bad when she ripped that first piece of wax off the back of my neck that I wanted to cry. I managed to get it together and let her finish, but it was so painful and left my neck bright red and sore.

I'm debating on whether or not to switch back to shaving it.