My weekend was one adventure after the next.
When I last signed off, I was about to leave for something called "Tractor Pulling", to which I had been invited by my new friend, Meline. Having no idea what this was, Elizabeth and I drove out to the country where I met Meline and we walked up to a large farm. Here, I saw pastures of cows with their necks clanging with swiss cow bells, out buildings, and a muddy area that had been closed off, where several tractors were driving around in all different directions. When learning rudimentary french, tractor terminology is often neglected, and as such, I had literally no idea what I was watching. For the first hour, it actually seemed like a bunch of tractors driving around for no reason as Swiss farmers tried to be country with "cowboy" hats that looked more like fedoras. Don't get me wrong, I found this to be very enjoyable, but was even more excited when I figured out the rules. My first hint was finally noticing the markers on the side of the track that measured how many meters the tractor had gone. It turns out that the point is to take a small tractor whose engine has been modified and hook it up to a very heavy block, which it then has to pull as far as it can before it ruts itself out and can't move any further. What I have previously perceived as a bunch of tractors spinning their wheels to make a pile of mud which was then smoothed over by other tractors and re-conditioned by spraying water and rolling it, turned out to be the process by which small tractors pulling weights far heavier than the machines themselves, with their front wheels rearing up and their engines busting out thick, black smoke. It was hilarious, and wonderful.
The next day Elisabeth, David, and Hans Peter all competed in a triathlon, making me feel like the lazy, slacking exchange student that I secretly am. E had a team and only did the swimming leg, but both boys did the whole thing, making our little family team a very impressive one, because Hans Peter was the oldest person to compete and did excellently, and David won the whole damn thing. I reserve partial credit for this win on account of my incredible American-style cheerleading skills. Also, I have found that when you are in a foreign country and have limited knowledge of literally everything around you, you find yourself in strange situations with people you don't know and will never see again, but I've found its best to just roll with it. I spent this particular day roaming the tiny Swiss town that the triathlon took place in with the extended family of David's friend and biking buddy, Jeremy. I knew none of them and today I doubt I could pick them out of a crowd, but for the time we spent together they were all very nice and smiled at me a lot. Come to think of it, I actually have no way of knowing if they were the people Elisabeth directed me towards, or if I was once again that confused exchange student who just picked a group of people to follow around one day. I'm okay with either option.
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