A Day in the Clouds

Mont Blanc and Tiramasu

Today has been, to date, the best experience of my life; yes it has!

The school took us on a trip to Chamonix to see Mont Blanc (for those of you who don't know it is the highest mountain in the Alps and Western Europe). It rises 15,781 ft!!.The scenic bus ride took about an hour and the sights were breathtaking. Lush, rolling green hills, houses and farms stretched out across the valley. Trees stacked one on top of the other like thick carpet, lined the bottom of the mountains. When we finally reached our destination we went up about 12,000 feet by cable car and let me tell you, the ride in the cable car itself was an experience.

I stepped into the red and silver contraption not really knowing what to expect. I have never ridden in one before, so I was expecting a very smooth ride. SO WRONG. haha. The car smoothly ascended upwards at first but the higher we got it would jolt and sway back and forth. Roller coaster lovers, (I am not one), of course were screaming with glee and then there were those like myself who were spitting out prayers like wildfire. I grabbed onto a pole, knuckles whiter than I've ever seen them. I thought to myself "I have got to make it off this thing alive, dropping from this thing would most definitely be a painful death". I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind and just focused on the final destination: to see one of the most famous mountains in the world.

Upon crashing into the cabin slot thing, yes crashing (with some exaggeration), because we definitely hit the wall first instead of gliding right into the spot allotted for the cable car. I gingerly stepped out of the still swinging car onto the platform. It was cold and the air was crisp. The mountain shone brightly and glistened like a crystal, so I put my shades on. The sun reflecting on the ice and snow made everything look so magical and I got so caught up in the moment... until I looked down at the not-so-sturdy wood beneath me and realized that if I slipped under the railing, I could fall to my death. To my left, mountaineers with their ice picks were climbing higher up the mountain. Snowboarders and skiers were taking their chance at tackling the monstrosity of a mountain. Paraponting is quite popular, I've noticed in these parts, and many individuals were jumping off the top of the mountain with nothing but a parachute. They looked like colorful birds drifting slowly in the sky. I haven't decided yet, but I just might have to try that activity before I leave Europe.

After eating our neatly packed lunch, courtesy of the cafeteria, a few of us were still hungry so we decided to eat at the restaurant inside the mountain adjacent to Mont Blanc. It was small and cozy and had a rustic feel to it. Medium sized windows permitted us a breathtaking view of the clouds surrounding us in the mountain. The waiter was nice and even corrected us when our french was a little off. I personally did not feel like paying 30 euros for a meal, so I opted for desert instead. A delicious tiramisu. I can still taste the creamy goodness of it all.

During the meal, I experienced a little bit of altitude sickness. My heart was racing and I was extremely short of breath and lightheaded. Nothing too serious, but it was slightly uncomfortable. I noticed that I felt better once I was outside in the fresh air. The whole experience; the turbulent cable car ride, the fear of heights/falling, and the altitude sickness was worth it.

I would recommend if given the chance, to go visit this majestic wonder. I was above the clouds and it was as if I could touch the high heavens. Talk about amazing. It was. I was reminded once again of how insignificant and small I am in this world. I was able to partake in a wonderful moment in nature, what can I say? It was just simply amazing.

Modern day Christian

Modern day Christian. What does that mean?

I know that today a lot of us young people are more about the relationships we have with people rather than the do's and don'ts of Christianity. Sometimes I feel like I have an idea of what Jesus would want me to do in certain situations but other times... I haven't the slightest idea...

Yesterday was the second day I was at the Gyrog household to help their children, 14 and 11 with their english homework. The kids are great and I'm grateful I have a way of getting a little income while I am here. What I was about to face though, I was not expecting at all. I have gotten so used to my little bubble at SAU and at home, not having to defend what I believe or why I do what I do. This situation took me for a loop.

I was sitting at the bar with Marie Helen helping her write a narrative story in english. Her mother, who was in the process of mowing their very big, green, lush lawn came in to have a chat with me about what my hours would be, and I was telling her when all my vacations were so we could plan accordingly since obviously her kids go to a public school and have different dates for their vacations. She mentioned that she would need me Friday evening to watch the kids and go over their homework for the following week. She said I could just stay and have dinner with them and watch The Office with the kids (it's their favorite American t.v show) I mentioned that it was fine, I would watch the kids but that I'd just bring a book to read. She looked puzzled but mentioned that she would need me Sabbath afternoons/evenings, not always but sometimes because her and her husband rarely get to go out. I proceeded to tell her that I may do evenings but not afternoons. She was definitely confused and finally asked me why.

I was stumped.

I finally managed to explain to her my sabbath (I felt like my parents at that moment) She looked so surprised and asked me if that was an SDA thing. I hesitated. Then said yes, for some. (for some?!) She said that all the other ACA girls never had a problem working for her friday and saturdays in the past and that they were all SDA. What the heck do you say to that?! I told her I came from a conservative background. She nodded and then asked me what I wouldn't eat. (She was making crab for dinner) I told her, you know, all the "unclean meats" ::sigh:: I feel so stupid now looking back on that conversation. I have been struggling with this balance my WHOLE life. How do I live for God and serve others and witness? Do I quit this job?! In the beginning I really felt like God worked it out for me to even find work because it's so difficult for us to find jobs out here. I have no idea what to do.

A part of me feels like I should be different, stand out be a "peculiar" person but I focus too much on the "rules" that I forget about the relationship with the people. Can you tell this isn't a lifestyle thing? Always being around SDAs has made me comfortable so comfortable that I don't even know how to act, what to say anymore to non-christians. So sad. So for now I am feeling quite lost. I really just want to do the right thing. I really love the family, they have been so good to me so far and I get along with the kids just fine.

So what's really the issue here? Watching non-religious t.v on a friday night, and eating "unclean" meats? or should I just be concerned about building a relationship with these people before I get my undergarments all tied up in a knot?

still searching.

any suggestions?

God Is Good.

The last few days have been extremely cold, overcast, rainy and foggy. Not really good for my psyche. Today however the sun plays tag with the clouds and peeks in and out every so often which I'm grateful for. I'm sitting at my desk facing the window and staring directly at Saleve. A slight fog is hovering over the peaks of the mountain but it's still very beautiful. It's one of those days when I remember that I'm not back home in America. It's a good feeling.

Yesterday, I had such a wonderful three hour conversation with one of the girls here (she's from Southern) and realized that she and I have a lot in common. It's funny to think that I had passed her many times on the promenade, sat behind her in convocation, or maybe smiled at her during a joint worship but never made her acquaintance until now. Well God has perfect timing and divine appointments indeed because we both were there with each other when we thought that no one would be able to understand. All I can say is that God is good, even though I most certainly am NOT.

Anyway, we both expressed that we came to France not only to learn the language but to find God as well. Confessions were made about possibly trying to run from certain situations or to lose baggage that we felt were too much to bear. Then it hit us, duh! bagg-age...it flippin follows you wherever you go! The very things we were trying to leave behind in our surroundings back home, came right with us. Here we are, 4,000 miles away from home and the people we love; every memory, every tear shed, every account of pain, remembered. So much for the idealistic thoughts we came with: go to europe and start fresh! go to europe and forget everything painful! hmmmm not so much. Not now anyway.

I suppose that in due time God will reveal himself and the plans for our lives. To be honest though, I am tired of waiting. I've been waiting forever it seems like. It really gets discouraging sometimes. Despite it all, I'm just going to keep on saying that God is good. He is Good. My Maker is good. He is a good God. Maybe, sometimes you just have to say it enough to believe it. Maybe you don't always have the answers but if you blindly walk just for the heck of it His goodness will surface. That means that when I'm having a bad day, or when I see no end to the madness, I will remind myself that God is good. When I'm annoyed with people or my situation and I get lost somewhere in Europe, God is good. If I go to bed hungry and I'm wishing for some of my mother's cooked food, God is good. When I'm feeling lonely and the french students look at me weirdly because I mispronounced a word, God is good. When I look out my window like today, and the birds are chirping and Saleve in all it's glory casts a cool shadow, God is good. When the ACA students get together and laugh and have a great time, God is good. During orchestra, when the little boy that sits next to me, gives me a huge smile just for the heck of it, God is good.

That's just it. God is good. His way is better than my way.

I'll keep saying it until I believe it with all the confidence in the world.

God is good.

To say or not to say?

Today started out okay, then ended being really rough, then got okay again.

It's the third day of classes, and for the most part I am able to understand when the teachers are speaking to us, minus a few words here and there. In one particular class, Langue en contexte, we are learning soley about French culture then and now and how to use the language in everyday life. The professor began the class asking us about cliches we may have heard about French people, and different comments were made: French people don't shower regularly, they only eat bread and cheese, they hate americans (which I found out is not necessarily true, they mostly hate Bush and dislike americans who come to france and only speak english instead of trying to speak french)etc.

Anyway, a question was burning up inside of me and I just had to ask it. Before I had left, I was told not to tell the french that I was of haitian background but I forgot and was telling everyone that I met where my parents are from. I noticed that after saying so, people started treating me a little differently, but it didn't really register. So I raised my hand, and in my nervousness, spat out the question very rapidly in french: "Is it true that French people do not like Haitians?" My professor, Claire, found it difficult to answer me right away- she bowed her head almost seemingly in a wincing manner and I braced myself for the ugly truth. When she lifted her head up again she said that yes, Haitians are not well-liked, they have a horrible reputation.

I asked her why.

She said that haitians are moochers and don't work hard. The men are seducers and the people as a whole are no-good doers. My whole body went stiff. Are you f***ing kidding me?! I thought in my head ("f" as in flagella of course- sorry folks, I've got to be real with how I felt at the time) I thought about how my mother at the tender age of 17 immigrated to Massachusetts with nothing but a few clothes and a dream. She worked in three different factories, at the same time, risking her life and her health to pay for her education. I thought of my father, determined and loving father who almost died on many occasions because of his failing health, he had worked himself so hard to provide for us. I thought of how my parents came to america with NOTHING to their name and to see them now, Mom, a nurse manager and Dad finishing up his thesis for a doctorate in Psychology. My blood boiled, a combination of anger and sadness (mostly sadness) because coming to France has been my childhood dream. My grandmother always talked to me about my heritage-about how her father was a frenchmen (yes, brown hair & blue eyes- a white man) who took himself a local on the island and voila! she and four other sisters were born. She told me to look for the Beneche name when I got here and that is what I intended to do. Now, quicker than I could blink it was as if that dream was being taken away. I thought about the times as a kid, being chastised for being haitian; in my nieghborhood kids throwing rocks at my sister and I because they couldn't believe that we were haitian. "You guys don't look haitian!" they told us. What the HECK does a haitian look like?! Please, somebody tell me. I am SO SICK of that phrase. I'm so sick of being put down. Just like in every race, culture, creed there are flaws and yes, there are those who prove the stereotypes to be true, but is it necessary to write someone off because of what you've HEARD, not even what you have personally experienced?

Anyway, I fought back the tears the rest of the class period and composed myself until the bell rang. I leaped out of my seat, clamoring for the door desperately,( my eye sight was getting fuzzy), I finally opened the door and was about to leave the building when I remembered I needed to go see Daniela, the director of Ifle to add one more class. I turned around and headed towards her office. As soon as she smiled and very sweetly greeted me, I lost it. I was bawling like baby. She was so understanding as I choked out what had happened and how I was feeling in French. She nodded and explained to me that she was so sorry and that it is unfortunate that there is a prejudice but she told me not to hide who I am. She told me that I shouldn't be ashamed or feel like it was stupid to cry over something like this (I did feel kinda lame) she encouraged me to be proud and to show people the opposite of the sterotypes. I felt so much better. Like I was in grade school again, but still so much better.

I guess what I have learned is that life is definitely a growing experience and I will always be faced with conflict. I have to learn how to take that negative energy and make it positive. Easier said, then done of course but I'll at least try. The rest, I'm leaving up to God.

*****

Later,

I was invited to the gym to play soccer with the boys. I wasn't going to go at first because I wanted to study my french conjugations, but I finally decided to go. It was grand. I think it was God's way of making me forget about everything and just enjoy myself, which I did. Although the day started out a little rough, everything worked out in the end. =)

until next time!

Mt. Saleve and late night adventures

I have had a very interesting last two days.

It all started on Wednesday. A group of us ACA students decided it was a beautiful day and we were going to figure out how to get to the top of Saleve. A few girls had attended Collonges a few years back and were familiar with the trails that led up to the mountain so we decided to follow their lead. I just want to say however, that if I do not return to the states extremeley fit, something is terribly wrong. I seriously felt like I was going to hurl out all my insides at times (I know, kinda graphic but I had to go there) I never realized how out of shape I am! The guys in the group of course were in the lead and climbing at a fast pace, leaving the rest of us in the dust. I decided that this was a challenge that I would push myself through. Mind over matter right?! So I gathered myself mentally and fought through the searing pain in my body. I never looked down and kept my eyes periodically on the ground so as not to step on lose rock, which from time to time would shower me as the people above me steadily moved forward.

Some of the group lagged behind (the altitude was a little much for some) and so onward the faithful few of us trudged along taking breaks every now an then, inspecting the progress being made. My water bottle was emptying quickly and I savored my last drop halfway up the mountain. Caves and overhangs opened toward us daringly but we moved steadily along until we reached the famous, tiny wooden bridge that would take us higher into rock that if climbed would surely lead us to our deaths. I held my breath and walked softly and quickly, taking note of a few missing planks and praying the whole way up. Once the bridge ended, we were back to climbing huge rock/boulder type things. A thin wire nailed to the side of the rock guided us up and up and up until...we reached the very top of the mountain.

It was a sight to behold. I looked out and could see as far as Annency and Geneva. The rolling hills plain in sight and the campus beneath us looked very small. Cow bells rang in the distance and children, young and old were walking atop the mountain. Hand gliders swaying with the wind gently drifted from the mountain. We decided to keep walking and opened a gate that led us straight into a cow pasture. Beyond that, Mount Blanche in the distance taunting us with it's snow tipped peaks, seemed to glitter in the sunlight. I couldn't believe my eyes. Maybe this was one reason why dear E.G White put adventist schools in semi-secluded areas. She wanted us to be one with nature and to realize the potency of God's power. Standing up there, I felt so small and insignificant but oh so close to my Maker. That's the only way to describe it. It was awesome.

Getting off the mountain wasn't so smooth though. My patella popped out of place and I had to slowly tiptoe down the mountain which took AGES. Thankfully, Jared came prepared with an ace bandage so I wrapped my knee and told myself to suck it up and walk. It really felt like we were never going to get down the mountain. The others were far ahead of us, so far in fact that they were able to make it to supper. We didn't.

As soon as we got off the mountain, I hurriedly wobbled over to the church where I had orchestra practice with a growling stomach and feeble body but still had a great time. I will forever remember my moment with God on the top of that mountain. I could see myself climbing it again, but not for a very long time...

I know this has been a long blog- but I promised I would write about all the interesting things that happen to me on this journey so here goes:

Last night,Thursday, a group of us went into town for some "real food" not that the cafe food is fake, we were just still hungry :-p We ended up at a really neat restaurant (I forget the name) but the owners and the waiter were really nice, even helping us with our french speaking skills from time to time. We had a great time, laughing and talking enjoying every minute of being in France.

After we finished we headed back. It was about midnight and it took us 15 min to reach the school. The boys went to their dorm and us girls continued our walk to La Clairiere, our home for the year. We swiped our cards over and over but they didn't work to open the door! It's not like Southern, where there is always a desk worker. The dean leaves and that's it. No one is in the office. So we walked all the way across campus to Les Horizons to see if maybe the guys' dean could let us in. No such luck. We saw one open window and light shining, so we decided that may be the boys' room. After calling them down (their cards worked fine of course) and realizing there was no way we would be able to get back inside of our dorm rooms, the boys kindly offered to bring down a sleeping bag, sweaters, blankets and even socks! and sleep outside with us. So that is what we did. We star gazed, my first time, and saw a shooting star. We laughed, and joked. After finally drifting to sleep, sometime later someone's alarm went off but we drifted back to sleep until... we heard a noise in the grass that kept getting louder and louder! My heart was beating so fast, I was imagining ferocious teeth tearing me apart, so I sank deeper into the blankets. One of the boys got up to see what or whom the sound was coming from and it turned out to be...a wild boar! It was huge, and beastly! (no pun intended) So we decided to get up and move. Thankfully everyone made it safely back to their dorm rooms and no one was hurt or wounded and for that I am grateful.

Until my next adventure,

Ciao!

The Beginning

I left the Orlando airport on Sunday at 5:30pm and flew into Memphis, TN then quickly hopped on a HUGE plane, 239 people apparently (I'm used to allegiant planes) flew for about 8 hours a few of which I was either sleeping or watching movies (by the way, The Proposal & 17 Again are hilarious!) then we finally landed in Amsterdam, Holland at 2:30 pm the next day. To my surprise everything was in english! I really thought I would have a hard time understanding but obviously everything was fairly simple to understand. Since it was my first flight to Europe by myself, I was, naturally a little nervous so seeing signs and directions in english helped out a lot.

Upon landing in the Geneva airport I was met by a theology major, Benjamin. He smiled and welcomed me in English while I responded back in French( I hear the French like you better, Americans, if you at least try to speak to them in their language). Didier and I being on the same flight were discussing how excited we were while waiting for another student to arrive. Rachelle, my soon-to-be roommate, was standing quietly off to the side. I approached her and introduced myself and soon learned that she was studying in Austria but was wanting to study french and it's history to add to her repertoire in addition to the german she already spoke.

After purchasing my first salad in europe (which I might add was delicious) Scott, from Walla Walla arrived and we proceeded to leave the airport and Geneva, a short 10-15 minute ride to collonges. We quickly passed the Swiss border and into France we entered. I was excited and could hardly believe it...

So far, I have walked around the campus of Collonges and have trekked up and down the wretched, yes wretched mountain of a climb to town four times now and even done a little hiking through the woods, which by the way resembles Narnia and makes me feel like I should be in a movie of some sort. I haven't quite figured out how to make it up Saleve, the mountain that I see every morning through my window, but when I do I'll be sure to record that adventure.

This town is so darling with it's white-haired, tan old men in overalls tending to the corn fields, it's old and modern buildings with their unique cottage-like architecture with colored shutters on most of the houses and lush green fields that seem to stretch out to the horizon. It's peaceful here and the people have been for the most part friendly towards us foreigners. It is only the third day and already I feel as if I truly belong here. The people, the lifestyle, the language...Didier's father was spot on when he mentioned to me a few weeks ago that I would love France. I can't wait to see what else is in store for me on this journey.

Until next time,

Salud!