The Justice

Students in Chambéry, France have the opportunity to hike in the magnificent French Alps, which border eastern France's picturesque towns. Photo courtesy of Rebecca Fisher.

The old town in Chambéry, France is dotted with charming little cafés and restaurants, as well as historical sites such as museums and ancient buildings. Photo courtesy of Rebecca Fisher.

Enclosed by gigantic mountains and glaciers that rise all the way up until they pierce the sky with their jagged tops, we embark on our first trip into the Vanoise National Park, located in the French Alps bordering Chambéry, France.

"Faîtes attention," our guide warns us as we climb over an area of land that slopes 30 feet down into a lake; one wrong step and we'd slide down into the icy water at the bottom.

Snow covers the Alps mountain trails for most of the year. But in summer, when the ice recedes, little flowers and stalks of grass begin to sprout. We walk across fields of blue, purple and white flowers that look so delicate it seems as though a strong wind might destroy them.

By some amazing feat of nature, these tiny flowers are able to withstand the winds of fall, the snow and ice of winter and the dry summer heat. I think I must have taken at least 10 close-up shots of those fields.

This summer, I was given the opportunity to experience the beauty of Chambéry's old city and its nearby environment while studying at the Institut Francais des Alpes. Located in Chambéry, the picturesque capital of the Savoy region in eastern France, the school is surrounded by the majestic French Alps.

About half the students at IFALPES come from schools in Asia, the other half from European countries; I'm one of only two Americans. Needless to say, I speak mostly in gestures the first few weeks of my stay.

It is a common misconception that everyone across the globe speaks English, and I am therefore surprised to find that, although most Scandinavians I meet speak almost perfect English, the majority of students from China and Japan speak none at all. Even most Europeans have forgotten much of the English they learned as young children.

Over lunches of bread and cheese in the rose garden behind the school, my anxieties about having to speak exclusively in French decrease, and I have stimulating discussions with some of the European students in the program.

Even more memorable than hiking in the Alps and parasailing over Albertville, one of the most fascinating experiences of my trip is exchanging opinions on current political and social issues with European students.

Debating European Union politics with a Norwegian, a Dane and a German broadens my perspective on international affairs far more than anything I've ever gotten from a textbook.

Despite the close bonds I form with other students on the program, I feel almost excluded from the French populace in Chambéry. During my first month in France, I do my best to say a little as possible when out in public, embarrassed by my accent and my inability to express myself in French. While French people seem tolerant of my American accent, I'm too self-conscious to say more than a few words in conversation.

It's not until my second month in France, after I've solidified my speaking skills by practicing in class, that I'm able to speak comfortably with the French people I meet.

In fact, many people are quite surprised when I inform them that I'm American. I don't fit their preconceived notions of the American people.

"Vous n'êtes pas grosse comme une Américaine!" exclaims one older French woman. "You are not fat like most Americans!" She adds: "Et à la difference des Américains vous vous habillez bien!" "And unlike most Americans you dress well!"

Gradually, I begin to feel I belong in this quaint community.

Walking back to my homestay from class each day, I see the boulanger, the baker, from whom I buy a loaf of bread each week, and the woman who sells jewelry at the weekly art fair and who helps me pick out a pair of earrings for my mother.

On a rented bike, I explore the charming vieille ville, the old town,,stopping into its small restaurants and cafés and delving into the city's rich history buried in museums and ancient buildings. My friends and I even develop our personal spots-the pub where we get beers after school, the café where we relax on Sundays when every other business is closed.

Reflecting on my sojourn in France, I see in vivid color the image of myself and my group of friends dancing freely in the street during La Fête de la Musique. This music festival is celebrated across France.

Every town puts on multiple performances. All over Chambéry, musicians are playing wherever they can manage a spot-on street corners, within the grand Château de Dukes, everywhere. The city government has four large stages set up in the old city, and, walking from one corner to the other, we're regaled with a nonstop series of lively melodies.

One of the stages features an Irish musician all night, and my Irish friends attempt to teach my Danish friend and me how to perform traditional Irish dancing. By the end of the night, they consider us lost causes.

Thinking back to that night, I can still feel myself laughing and dancing there in the middle of the street, among the locals and tourists and street performers, the melodies of Ireland and France slowly fading into one slow song behind me.

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