Unfortunately it seems that many of the girls that were in the French class along with me before my trip, have since stopped going, so last night I was trying to figure out a way to get together with them again. I sent out a text message (or "SMS" as they call them here) to everyone asking about meeting up in the afternoon today for a flea market over in Plainpalais. I got a response from Laura (the German) saying she'd be meeting up with some of the girls for lunch, and why don't I join them? Perfect!
So I had lunch today with her, Ade (a very fun and spunky Indonesian gal), and Sandra (a Spanish woman that had taken the class, and thus befriended these women, before we arrived to Geneva). We went to this Moroccan restaurant they knew and we all had the "plat du jour"-- a bowl of couscous for each, and then they brought out a bunch of bowls filled with meatballs, lamb, chicken, and veggies all in different sauces to add to your couscous. All this for the very reasonable (for Geneva) price of about $16 per person (a far cry from our $5 3-course specials in Chile!). But it was good, I may have to take Zach there sometime. The atmosphere was really interesting, too, they had decorated pillows everywhere, and even a water fountain (the kind usually seen in a yard, or outside an important building) in the middle of the dining area.
After lunch we made plans to try to go out to dinner together tomorrow evening, and then I headed home on the bus where I proceeded to suddenly become extremely tired and fall asleep... I seriously could not keep my eyelids open. I got home and CRASHED along with Sierra. I was so tired that, as I was sleeping, I half-dreamt of being asleep. I don't know where this came from, and I'm feeling much more awake and better now (after my 1.5 hr nap). I guess it was the jet-lag catching up with me.
Zach has his French class tonight, so he won't be back till about my bedtime. Boo. I guess I should spend the time till then doing things like, um, unpacking maybe? It's been 5 days and my crap is still strung across our bedroom floor, half-in and half spilling out of our suitcases. Why I have such an aversion to the process of unpacking I do not know. I'm glad Zach just accepts it as one of my, uh, charming quirks. ; )