November 24th

Four days ago the dog died. Alfred said, "Look, Lindsay, the dog died!" It is still lying where it died. This morning something started to eat its head. I'm really hoping he gets around to burying it today.

Monaco to the Alps

Conversation

Here is a sample of why I am forced to learn French: -Lindsay, vas chercher le bidon -Ne comprend bidon -Bien sur tu comprends -Daccord, ou est le bidon -Avec les autres -Ouais, OK jy vais In English: -Lindsay, go find the bidon -I don't understand the word bidon -Of course you understand -Alright then, where is it -With the other bidons -Yeah, ok. I'm going.

Snow

First snow at mille deux metres.

Look what's for dinner

Last night I had what was probably the most interesting dinner of my life. Three French farmers and a French hunter who all look like they stepped out of some crazy novel about the backwoods of West Virginia in 1700. One of them has a long beard and very few teeth, George, the old curiosity who never buttons the top button of his pants. Nicolas with short dark curly hair and incessant smoking. This was the third time I have been at a dinner with him and I have yet to see him without a cigarette in his mouth except for the few moments that he removed the cigarette to insert another chunk of completely raw meat. My host with his insanely blonde, wild, mountain hair, blue eyes and German accent and Antoine, the heavyset mountain hunter that always wears his blue hunting overalls, even to dinner. And then there was me, 22-year-old American girl.

We had a deer fondue and 12 bottles of wine.

Then this morning I opened the refrigerator and there is an entire cow tongue sitting on a plate decongelating. Pretty sure that's for dinner.