It was a normal day in the Pyrenees (not that I would know).  Snow had just fallen that morning, and we were off to do outreaches in groups.  My (Tara's) group was made up of two cars.  In one car were all French students and me.  In the other were all French students and Fateh, a Middle-eastern jovial guy.  He told me he comes to Agapé events "because they're fun and curious."  I loved hearing that!  Oh, and sadly, Trent stayed at the camp to work on computers.

Our job: spend three hours fixing up an elderly lady's house- doing whatever she asks of us.

And so we did.  Two girls and I swept her outdoor areas and raked everything we could.  Fortunately she was at a low enough altitude that no snow had fallen anywhere in sight.  In fact, we were all sweating like it was summer!  I was doing okay with communication that day, but at one point I swear I heard the girls say "gateau," so I asked, "Did someone say cake?!"  I'm sure I had a huge smile on my face because they paused, looked at me, and laughed hysterically.  Stephanie insisted on how funny I am, and then they said, "No, sorry."

But when we finished our work, the elderly lady invited us in, messy boots and all.  She brought out a cake, and us three girls looked at eachother and giggled.  But it wasn't a normal cake.. it was in bunt form with lots of large nuts on top.  There were no plates or napkins, so people just started grabbing slices and holding them like bread.  I did the same, and with lots of chatter, it was hard for me to understand anything.

I took one bite of that cake, and immediately something was wrong.  One of the nuts was huge and insanely hard.  I tried to crack it a few times, but I wasn't making a dent.  Soon my teeth started to hurt!  Again noticing the lack of napkins, I resolved myself to sucking on the nut in hopes that it would soften.  I had no options... surely I couldn't spit it into my hand!  That would be so American of me.  :-S

After several more minutes of sucking and biting, a dangerous thought flashed through my mind: I could try to swallow it.  No, NO!  My body shuddered, as I was already feeling carsick from the weaving in the mountains.  Surely I would gag on this thing, or worse yet, choke.

Just then, my tongue discovered some interesting protrusions on this nut.  What the heck was this thing in my mouth?!

As all heads were turned in other directions (we were seated at a circular table), I spit the thing into my hand.  I found myself holding a tiny ceramic turtle.  A turtle!!  Had this lady accidentally baked one of her trinkets into the cake?  Should I put it in my pocket and forget about it? My poor teeth!  I have no social protocol here.

So I showed it to the girl next to me, and she exclaimed something with her arms in the air!  I think she said, "You won!!"  Huh?  Suddenly the sweet lady of the house is putting a crown on my head, and everyone sang some sort of song.  Am I on candid camera?!

As it turns out, this is a French tradition with this particular kind of cake.  (Holy dangerous, Batman.)  At first I was embarrassed, but then I got over myself.  On our way out the door, I told my group-mates some of the thoughts that were going through my head, and they all got a huge kick out of it, especially Fateh.  I think it made his day.  And when we got back to camp, I was pretty popular.  People had a lot of questions.  My group-mates told me that the lady had mentioned the turtle in the cake before we ate, but I must have missed it.  Everyone says I should write this story down, so now I did!

This story is better than Trent stepping in dog poo during our first month here!  Sorry, hun.  Now we both have a "culture moment."

By the way, the cake is a Christmas tradition called "galette de roi," and any ceramic object can be used.  I kept my turtle, who unfortunately suffered no damage.  I keep him in my coat pocket for giggles.