The First Snow

And so winter begins.  Though not very a formidable first snow, measuring barely a centimeter and lingering not more than a day, it's implications - the approaching ski season, the rapidly dropping temperatures, the Christmas holidays - have been cause for both excitement and chagrin among my classmates and my family.  Some simply destest the impending subzero temperatures and soggy snowy weather, and some just look forward to their weekly ski.  At any rate, the ever-seasonal Fribourgeois lifestyle thus enters its third iteration since my arrival; the foods change: la chasse becomes la fondue and roasted chestnuts become roasted cheese; the sports change: soccer turns to winter sports, even if it's only a small game of anticipatory street hockey; and of course the preparations are made for the next festival in the cycle, la Fête du St-Nicolas, the saint of Fribourg.

And for me, these changes are even more monumental.  I come from a state where seasonal variations are virtually non-existant.  Several trees lose their leaves and most air conditioners are turned off, but it's hardly necessary even to stop wearing shorts and tee-shirts, let alone change one's eating habits or daily routine.  And snow, of course, is inconceivable.  So these seasonal changes, meteorological and otherwise, are exciting for me.  I get to experience a real winter for the first time in recent memory, and a new variation on the Swiss way of life.  It feels like I'm living in a story book; snow covered trees, crowds bundled up in big winter coats, chimineys puffing smoke, evoke for me, images of Peter Pan and Ebeneezer Scrooge.  I've seen snow, but up until now, winter seemed like some sort of distant, but extant, fantasyland.  Furthermore, the onset of winter represents my third month living in Switzerland, and more than ever, I'm starting to feel like a Fribourgeois.  I now know the bus routes, the old city, where to go for a cheap snack, where to go for a warm meal, how to cross the street (finally), where to go for interesting oddities.  I know where to find the old man who plays cello on the street in hopes of chancing upon a recording contract, how to get to the other side of the road without going outside, and the timings of the regular great migrations.  I'm starting to make friends and assimilate into the school system and finally - finally - learning to understand and be understood.

With teachers, students, and strangers alike, I can officially comport myself in French.  Though far from fluent, I can handle unexpected situations and exchanges, and although it is evident to all that French is not my native languages, all my conversations prove more efficient in French than English.  In fact, my speech in English is rather laboured and awkward (this entry took me several hours to write), and I'm constantly on the verge of incorporating monstrous hybrid words (like manging, quelquetimes, or hispropre) into everything I say.

In any case, the coming of winter undoubtedly opens up a new period in my stay here, and presents dozens of new opportunities and experiences to take advantage of.  Though when it really starts to snow, and the temperatures plummet, perhaps I'll change my mind...