Riding, Regarding, And Reveling

Week one is down and things are rolling. It has been a beautiful week discovering new places, people, dishes, and running routes. My host family continues to go above and beyond to borrow a very West Pointish phrase. I have officially found my favorite Lyonnais meal, quenelles. My host mother made this dish for Friday’s dinner. It was a splendid evening, with lots of conversation, wine, cheese, and all things French (that implies talk of politics and religion). I have found a new motivation to learn to cook well, so when I return home, this is the first quenelles I shall try.

I spent the week figuring out the best combo of metro/bus to get me to school, and what days I could take my new bike. The bike story is an excellent example of some of the frustrations, bureaucratic always, that I have with the military. Most of my West Point/Army readership will understand this system, but for everyone else, this is a good intro to Army Bureaucracy 101. This system, I do concede, is unavoidable, but it serves to support my theory that rules should really only apply to about 5% of the population, but who is to decide who that 5% is? Marc and I have been allotted a given amount of funds for “Metro tickets and taxis.” In our desire to be more eco-friendly and fitter, we decided to bike instead of simply take PT everywhere. However, if I were to use these allotted funds, despite being designed for transportation, to buy a bike, I would not be following guidance. This is because I would own the bike, and therefore somebody has to continue to have possession of this object in the future. The reason this gets sticky is because someone along the way decided to use Army money to buy something, then he got real clever and sold that item for a personal profit. And he ruined it for everyone. This is no slam on West Point, just my venting in regards to some idiots greed at some point in history. Regardless, I did not mind putting down my own cash for the bike. It is too much fun riding into Centre Ville and cruising along the banks of the two rivers that flow through Lyon. No better way to feel like a kid again, and keep in shape.

Readers, I must apologize. Earlier in the blog I asserted that the people of Amsterdam are the best-looking folks in the world. I must renege on said statement, not to say they have lost any of their attractiveness in the Low Countries, but it has come to my attention, daily, hourly, and in every bistro, restaurant, public square, and classroom, that the girls of Lyon surpass any city I have yet to visit in beauty. I can assure I tested this theory diligently with my very own eyes. I took this observatory examination very seriously, making sure to miss a person. I asked for another expert opinion, in my traveling companion Marc, and he heartily agrees. I also searched for historical “data” if you will, asking my father what he remembers of the French when he visited in the 70s. He assured me that my observations are in accordance with his of an earlier day, they are beautiful. Readers, don’t worry, I’m not only studying anatomy and visages here in Lyon. I assure you my class work is going well. The studies are intense, but I’ve found my best improvement comes at home simply interacting with the family and their friends. They are helpful with the French grammar that might as well be rocket science in its infinite complexity, and teach me colloquialisms to hide my foreign ignorance. As always in my time abroad, I have been blessed to meet the most interesting host of characters.

In my class is a Columbian priest who works in Rome, speaks six languages, and is learning French to continue his archival research. A elderly (but quite spry) New Zealander school teacher who decided after her husband passed away, to learn French the right way, by living in Lyon for a bit. A big shoutout to Major Didier, who passed along an excellent history of Captain Cook, entitled Farther Than Any Man . I thankfully had, because of reading this book, a couple nuggets of knowledge regarding her native country to make her think I wasn’t as idiotic as I look, and henceforth she has taken a maternalish liking to me. A Korean-American businessperson who married a Frenchman, and now lives in Lyon. She puts me to shame with her patriotism. In just a few conversations, I’ve noticed her acute sense of observation when it comes to cultures and their similarities and differences. She’s truly fascinating to talk to. Her story is one of perseverance, impregnable will, and strength. It’s one I wish everyone had a chance to hear. A young German physicists who has spent this summer picking up Greek and French, talk about a diversified mental toolkit. I needed his brain when I was struggling through electromagnetism last semester. This is a just a small sample of the incredibly fascinating group I have the pleasure of studying alongside each day. Our classes this month just focus on the language, and then in October when the French students return from their vacation and begin their first semester, Marc and I will hopefully be able to test into some of their regular classes.

This weekend Marc and I explored Lyon the way God (and primitive man) intended, on foot and bicycle. We could not have had a better day. Saturday was crisp and sunny, perfect for getting a good sweat in. Sadly, I have not been using my camera as I ought, but I will upload some pictures in the ensuing days. This I promise. A public congrats goes out to Army Football for winning its first opener in 12 years. Let’s keep it up. Sunday will be a day for a nice walk to stretch out the legs, a good meal with the family, listening to my man Garrison Keillor on Prairie Home Companion, and then homework. Hope the week starts well for all of you back in the States or wherever you may be reading from today. Feel free to hit me up on Skype (natewebster) or as always, email works well, nate.webster@usma.edu
Be well. Do good work. And keep in touch.

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