Three more weeks

Broken feet take a really long time to heal apparently. With or without a cast, it's just really hard to keep it immobile for long periods of time. The x-ray today showed improvement, and I can walk around the house without any pain, but it's still not fully healed, 39 days (5+ weeks) after I broke it. Sigh. So three more weeks with the funny shoe when outside and then I go back to the hospital, hopefully for the last time.

Bright side: cute boy intern told me I could swim! Though I'm also not supposed to wet the bandage they put on my foot, so I'm not really sure how that's supposed to work. I only see interns when I'm at the hospital, and they're all so young and adorable, I pretend it's like the French orthopedic version of "Grey's Anatomy." Will Louis ever admit his true feelings for Marie-Claude? Will Sandrine be able to hide her affaire with the married Dr. Pierre? Stay tuned for the next episode!

Hats . . . or lack thereof

I have no idea if I've talked about this before on the blog, because I think about it a lot and mention it every chance I get. And probably other people have posted about it, so I do apologize if I'm repeating something I read somewhere, but since it's been rainy and snowy lately, I figured I would open it for discussion again.


French people (in my area) don't wear hats. Even when it rains and snows, and they have perfectly good hoods attached to their fancy coats.


I have never understood this. Maybe it's because they spend so much time on their hair, men included, so it would be an awful waste to cover it up with a hat. Maybe they are more used to the cold than me, since I am a bit frileuse and the second a bit of wind comes along I tighten my hood around my head as much as possible. I grew up with my Texan grandfather living with us, so anytime it got below about 65F, we were not able to leave the house without something to cover our "pun'kin heads".

I remember being told constantly as a child that we lose like, 75% of our body heat through our heads. I refuse to believe that a country who produced the Institut Pasteur and Marie/Pierre Curie is not aware of this fact. Perhaps it is all clever publicity by the Hat Sellers of America Board to get us to buy more hats. Like how the dairy farmers managed to convince us that our children's bones will rot if we don't drink gallons of milk every day.

Anyone under the age of 10 or over the age of 70 seems to be okay with hats, as they either don't have the choice, don't care about their hair, or have none to muss up. The occasional cute knitted hat or beret is to be found, but in general, I am alone in my hoodedness. I asked one of Ben's friends (who shaves his head so has no hair protection at all) why he doesn't wear hats, and he said because he looks stupid in them. This weekend in the snowy mountains there were no hats to be seen. It doesn't really bother me, as I prefer to be warm than fashionable, but I've only been here a few years and I have the feeling that once I start working full-time I will not want to be the weird girl in the office who wears hats . . .

If it is only my area, than that is one thing (maybe when the Germans came they took away everybody's hats?) but I have a feeling that this might be a France-wide thing, seeing as how hair is a very important part of la vie française. Please feel free to share your own observations :-)

Snowy weekend away with the boys

One of Ben's friends lives in a town that has a chalet in the Vosges that townspeople can rent. When I "chalet" I mean a 50-square-meter bottom floor apartment, but it's cheap and warm and has a pretty nice view:


I'm still not entirely sure why we made the trip through the snow in a car without heat and me with a broken foot, but it was worth it. It was so good to get away, and I've been a bit glum that we can't do any big trips this year, so little visits like this keep me happy. And when I'm the only girl who gets invited to go (I suspect my Americanness is still seen as exotic), that makes me even happier. I'm not really "one of the guys" but as a modern woman I know enough dirty jokes to endear me to my boyfriend's friends and to hopefully ensure another invite. I laughed about their R-rated snow sculpture and washed the dishes and drank beer with them. I would have liked to have been able to go outside and play in the snow with them, but even without a broken foot it was probably too dangerous! Lots of jumping and falling and running and yelling. Boys will be boys after all . . .

When I did venture out, I left some pretty funny footprints:

Melting

The snow we stressfully drove through last night is gone, which is a relief, since it means the buses will be running normally. It was pretty scary last night driving home in it. I know Ben is used to it, but it's still not something I'd ever want to do myself.

Also, I seem to be hearing the word melted a lot in reference to my muscles that were trapped in a cast for two weeks. "Tes muscles sont fondus." I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West who is melting all over the place. No more wearing shorts in front of other people for a while.

New shoe

No, I did not find it during the soldes, the 12 year-old intern doctor at the hospital told me I could use it instead of getting another cast. I still use one crutch, because it's kind of hard to walk in. It's very weird and hurts my heel after walking all day, but then again, it's been two weeks since my leg has done anything, so a bit of muscle pain is to be expected. The foot is still totally broken, I have the lovely xrays to prove it, but I guess they figured I'm responsible enough to not go around banging my foot into stuff. So far so good, but I've still got a few weeks to go . . .

Interruptions and stories

I am not feeling 100% sure that I did well on my exams, but they're over and I can't change anything so I just have to wait and see. Halfway through the last one on Friday, about 50 crazy drunk engineering students burst into the lecture hall and caused a general ruckus for ten minutes or so. The school is moving to the campus on the other side of town, so I guess they wanted to cause as much trouble as possible before they leave. The teacher proctoring couldn't do much against such a big group, so he gave us and extra ten minutes to finish, but my concentration was shot so I just kind of gave up and sat there for the last forty minutes feeling like an idiot.

I told my friend about this, who is at Yale law, and she was duly scandalized, as am I a bit. I'd be more upset if I had paid more to go here, and it always cracks me up when the other students say stuff like "Oh the organization here is ridiculous, I'm going to demand a refund!" I just kind of shake my head and laugh quietly at their wonderful Frenchness. When I tell them how much I paid for undergrad, at a public university, their eyes just kind of glaze over and I know they don't really understand how much money that is, or can even imagine spending that much on anything besides a house or something. When I compare it to health care costs, they quickly find an excuse to talk to someone else, someone less crazy who doesn't talk about amounts in the hundreds of thousands.

Speaking of health, I am trying to find a better story for how I broke my foot. While funny and entertaining, "I was drunk and slipped while dancing on New Year's" does not get one much respect, just some eye rolls and jokes about blondes/Americans. So I am deciding between:

1) a handball accident (must look up rules to make this believable)

2) an accident on a black-diamond ski trail (less believable due to foot being fairly well protected while skiing)

3) an accident while trying to save a helpless girl tied to the tracks from an oncoming train (it really did happen sometimes apparently)

4) dropping my weights on my foot while lifting (might lack upper body strength to prove this one)

5) "I can't tell you the government swore me to secrecy" (as a foreigner, this could maybe work)

I alternate between numbers 1 and 4 right now and have to remember who I tell what so I don't give myself away. It should make the start of classes much more interesting this week, if I even manage to hobble out there at all. Oh, the things I do to amuse myself. At least it doesn't involve drunkenly interrupting exams!

My life as a frog

Hmm, I think I need some water.
Hop hop hop hop hop.
Hmm, now it's time for a bathroom visit.
Hop hop hop. Open door. Hop hop. Close door. Hop hop hop.
Hmm, lets give Ben a break and start the laundry.
Hop hop hop, balance precariously, hop hop hop, sit on floor and load, shove self up using side of bath, hop hop hop hop hop.

I must say that I am glad this happened at this stage in our lives, when we live in a small apartment. And when we don't work full time so I don't really have to do much. It's been four straight days at home, so hopefully I'm rested up enough to hop head over to the university during the next three days for work and exams.