Trois Petites Aliens avec Les Cheveux Plus Courtes (ne pas chevaux) et Autre Contes

This is taken outside the Ecole Professionelle de Coiffure in Plainpalais, which was the site of last week's best alien adventure.

It all began on Wednesday after school. School lets out at 12:30 on Wednesdays, making it the ideal day for errands and adventures (the kids think it's the ideal day to go immediately home and get their homework out of the way, so I generally have to drag them along on these errands and adventures. I usually also promise ice cream.). Last Wednesday, I had decided that we were going to go to the Ecole Superieure de Coiffure, because all three kids needed haircuts, and I had read that one could get a haircut for 15 CHF (Eric recently got a haircut at one of those mall places and it was 50 CHF, so you can understand my excitement). Lucas had been cautioning me for a week that he didn't want his hair too short, so I practiced saying, "Sil vous plait, ne coupez pas ses cheveux trop courtes."

Unfortunately, when we reached the Ecole Superieure, they were totally booked, so we decided to look for an ice cream store or a bakery. The kids just wanted to go home and go to the Boulangerie d'Onex, but I felt strongly that we had to accomplish something in Plainpalais, even if it was only consuming some calories. We found a bakery which actually had donuts (very exciting for the kids), and we sat down to eat them on a bench, when what should catch my eye but a building with a sign: Ecole Professionelle de Coiffure. Well, perhaps it wouldn't be a superior haircut, but at least it would be a professional one. I dragged the kids across the street and into what looked like a dingy apartment building. We found our way to the first floor (which is what they call the second floor -- the first floor is the ground floor, which I'm sure is just to discourage people who might not be truly determined to find the hair-cutting school). The Ecole Professionelle was a large room, packed with orange-framed mirrors, hair-dryers, scissors, clients, and young coiffeurs and coiffeuses with colorful and spiky hair, all dressed in black. The room, frankly, smelled like it was 4 p.m. on a warmish day and it had been packed with people for several hours. We were a little nervous, but the professor at the front desk (actually kind of a corner-of-the-room desk) said they could squeeze in three haircuts before the end of the day, so we trepidaciously decided to stay.

Each child was assigned to a student hairdresser, and the professors flitted busily about the room, alighting from time to time to trim a stray strand or whisper a word of wise counsel. Johanna's haircut turned out great, probably because she had printed out a picture of what she wanted, and was able to say, "comme ca." Drew's hair turned out great, probably because he has the kind of forgiving hair that looks good whether it's cut with nail clippers, hedge clippers, or anything in between. He was also helped by the presence of Phillipe the hair professor, who alit from time to time and made adjustments and gave advice. I think Luc's hair turned out great, but he was really angry with his coiffeur, who cut it too short for Luc's taste. The problem was, ironically, that Luc's student spoke some English, so I probably wasn't as clear with him as I should have been, overestimating his understanding of my direction to "leave the bangs alone," when I should have said, "Ne coupez pas la frange." Luc recovered quickly though. Probably more quickly than Professor Philippe recovered from his hilarious laughter at my attempt to make conversation: "Il a beaucoup de cheval," (he has a lot of horse -- which doesn't make sense even in English), rather than what I meant to say, which was, of course, to comment on the amount and thickness of Drew's curly hair: "Il a beaucoup de Cheveux."

In other news . . .
I had a successful foray to the wine store, somewhere I rarely went even in the English-speaking world. The man there was very patient with me, and repeated everything about three times in three different ways until I understood. He also recommended a good wine for the party with Eric's co-workers and told me to come back again and try to speak French with him. I made coq au vin for the party, and it turned out really well (thanks, Sarah!). In fact, I've been eating leftovers all this week. My favorite thing about guests here is that they always bring presents!

I learned valuable lessons about the British grading system (the kids are in a British school). Apparently, a 15/20, or 75 percent, is actually a good grade. Even a 12 or 13 out of 20 is considered perfectly acceptable. Furthermore, the expectation is that grades will rise as the year progresses, which is the opposite of what usually happened back home. I was having fits about some of the grades the kids were bringing home, but was enlightened at the information night. I approached the science teacher with, "I know (name deleted to protect the truly innocent) isn't doing very well in your class. . . . " She responded with, "S/he is doing just fine. I have no worries." I heard this from teacher after teacher, but didn't really believe them until finally the math teacher, who is very sweet and also new, pulled me aside and explained the whole system to me. What a relief.

I will end with some pictures of the road we take to and from the bus stop. It is not only a two-way road, but it is always full of pedestrians, motorcycles, and bikes. Okay Genevans, we know you are thin and agile and drive itty-bitty cars, but come on!