The Weekend: Camping

My host father and brother are both leaders of the Scouts et Guides de France, so I joined the program as well. This past Saturday afternoon I boarded a bus full of people and went off to the scout's camp outside of the city. It was on a hill overlooking vineyards (pictured below) and a small town. The bus driver let us off at the bottom of the hill and it had to be climbed, which was not easy for small children with packs on their backs.

The camp consisted of a large building with covered pavilion, a shelter a short distance off, areas of cleared space, and an orchard of apple trees. The youngest group (orange) slept inside, but the blue and red (the oldest) set up tents in the orchard.

The weather couldn't have been more perfect. It was sunny and warm during the day and cool at night. Even getting out of my sleeping bag in the morning wasn't difficult.

In France the girls and boys are integrated, and a half of the activities are not separated by age group. Neither of these things were problematic, in fact, they contributed to the spirit of the organization.

I found it amusing that scout is pronounced "scoot." I found it completely bizarre when they would erupt into loud songs or chants that I couldn't make out the words to.

Before dinner everyone gathered around for the moving-up ceremony. Yards of cloth corresponding to the color of the group were thrown over a long tarp filled with smoke from a fog machine. Starting with the youngest, children crawled through it and received their new status on the other side. Near the end it was my turn, and the striped necktie of the scouts was placed around my neck, initiating me into the red group.

I remember looking at a vocabulary list last month and thinking, "brouillard... that's not very useful. How often will I need to know the word for fog?" But in the morning beautiful fog had spread out over the town below, and I was able to mention it to one of the leaders.