Bonjour mes amies! My name is Alex and I write to you fine people from, as you might have guessed from the title, the Alps. More specifically, the French Alps, in a small ski-resort town named Megeve. I am not fluent in French nor am I of French descent (American all the way, baby).
So if you're wondering what the hell I'm doing here, you are not alone. I sometimes ask myself the same question. But please, let me explain, mes cherés.
While in my last semester at Virginia Tech, I couldn't help but notice that everyone around me seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do post-graduation. They knew where they wanted to move, what jobs they felt passionate about, and really seemed to have everything together, everything under control. Okay actually I'm lying a bit; to say I started feeling this way my last semester is a teensy bit off. I noticed I was the odd woman out on these fronts probably somewhere around my second week of freshman year. But I digress.
So with graduation looming ever so close, I took a good, hard look at myself in the mirror. Staring back at me was a brown-haired, blue-eyed, immature 23-year-old girl, who obviously had too many drinks the night before and who probably shouldn't have had that second cookie. As I looked at my reflection, I contemplated a few increasingly important matters: 1. Why was I born with such undefined cheekbones? 2. What do I want to do with my life?
1. Why was I born with such undefined cheekbones?
The answer to the first one? Who really knows...genetics are a bitch. It's the second question that I should probably concern myself with more. Probably. I mean, there's not much I can do about my cheekbones at the moment.
Call it a fear of long-term commitment, a refusal to settle down, or label me yet another lost twenty-something year old. Whatever the reason or term, the idea of being in an office every single freaking day made me almost physically ill. So, I did the logical thing. I found a website, registered as a fille au pair (one could also call it "the help", which I naïvely didn't realize while applying), and went in search for a foreign family who doesn't feel like raising their own child.
Ét viola! Here I sit in the apartment of my employers, six months into my year abroad, looking out upon the first snowfall of the season. I work for a young couple in their early thirties who have more money than most developing countries. Seriously though. I mention this only because I really feel that explains much of their behavior, comments, and overall general attitude towards everyone who's not like them. My little client (does that sound weird? I can't tell) is an absolutely adorable two-and-a-half year old named Luc who is finally getting the gist of potty training.
In these posts I hope to cover all my French experiences for y'all, from Christmas traditions (yes, I'll be here without any visitors since I'm "not allowed". More on that rather sore subject later), to winter fashions like the bright pink hot pants I saw walking down the street a moment ago. From the après-ski scene that is apparently renowned here, to what happens when I accidentally drink 3 bottles of unbeliveably priced Rosé (€1.75! I'd be a fool not to drink plenty). Really I'm just going to write about whatever I want because guess what? I have the keyboard. Whatever it is I share though, I solemnly promise one thing: to do my best to entertain all ye who read. On that note, a bientôt.
Contributor Alex Russo based in Megeve, French Alps, Humbly Drinking as The Help
Tuesday, March 20, 2012 at 12:45PM 
"Snacks" would be at the very bottom of a Freak Out Flow Chart, right after "Order Restored". 
Brian Rea, Heartache MountainHis editorial work speaks volumes.
To delve deeper into the soul and art of Brian Rea click here. He teaches at the Art Center in Los Angeles and has done a spectrum of design work.
