A Helping Hand

Winter vacation has begun - and thankfully is not even halfway through. Paul and I have been in Newcastle for 5 days now. I will write more fully about our time here on our way out, but I wanted to share a little peek into our quiet lives. Like most working couples, Paul and I don't get a great deal of alone time, just together, relaxing and enjoying life. One of us is always working on something, and we have two flatmates, so even when we are done working we are not alone. This little week long trip to Newcastle reminds me a bit of our honeymoon. Although we are not in a tree house in Jamaica, hot and sweaty and batting at mosquitos, we are back alone in our own tiny little world. We get to enjoy extended conversations that do not revolve around what is for dinner, what happened at work, and what time we need to get up in the morning. I realize we are way to early in our relationship to fall into bad habits. 


Sometimes it is hard to remember that every day is a day in my life. My life doesn't start when I finish my grad program, or when I finally have just one job, or when winter vacation starts. My life is every single day, and every day builds up to a year. And every year builds up to a life. I have gone for so long changing locations, jobs, friends each year that it is strange that I might stay in one place for an extended amount of time. Minutes turn to hours that turn to days that turn to years. So quickly I can't hold any of it. But I just have to take it one moment at a time. I have to be careful not to let our normal standard of living just get stuck on survive until our next vacation. The lyrics from this Jewel sometimes come into my mind when life get's crazy. 

And you wake up to realize
Your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive
When you're standing in deep water
And you're bailing yourself out with a straw
And when you're drowning in deep water
And you wake up making love to a wall
Well it's these little times that help to remind
It's nothing without love

And now I come to the real point of my post - which, if you have been reading my posts, normally take quite a long time to get to. It has been amazing and refreshing to take a little break with Paul, the man I have chosen to spend the rest of my life with. Just the other day we were laying in bed reading (both of our Kindles occasionally clicking as we turned the pages) and I got an absolute terrible itch. I tried to scratch it, but I just couldn't reach it. After a few seconds of struggling and realizing there was no way I could get at it, I asked my favorite guy to give me a hand. Almost immediately he scratched that bit just on my shoulder blade that was driving me crazy. This reminded me that even in the crazy days of work and school and LIFE, in the end it is most important that I've got that person who will scratch my back when I can't reach, and I will do the same for him. Because in the end, it's good to remember that it's nothing without love <3

The Joy of Cooking

It's 19:11 on a Sunday evening. A new week is about to begin, and what am I doing? I'm standing in the kitchen making up a delicious meal of sauteed lamb, steamed green beans, pasta and garlic cream sauce (from scratch!). In the past 1.5 years of being a wife (actually today is my 1.5 year anniversary!) I have become a little cooking/baking fiend. How did this happen?


My mom is not what you would call the most enthusiastic cook. She made some delicious meals when I was growing up (tasty meat buns, countless casseroles, chili and cornbread, the list goes on and on), but dinner time was not the time she looked forward to most during the day. I think she is incredibly thankful that the time in her life when she has to make other people meals is over. She still cooks sometimes when I visit home, but her and dad eat salads and easy to make foods. 


I seem to be completely the opposite. I love to feed people. I love trying new recipes. I LOVE cooking. I get to be in the kitchen, alone, listening to bad music, singing, and making something delicious. And I get to share this deliciousness! I couldn't think of anything better. I find recipes all the time, save them, and look forward to the free hour when I get to try them out. It's like art, but much more useful. I am working on making healthy meals, but there are also so many delicious baked goods out there, that they balance each other out. 


I have tried several times to blog about the food I make. Last weekend I made egg drop cups - basically little omelettes in baking cups. I also made chocolate chip cookies - yum! The problem is, I always end up enjoying the food and then getting busy with something else and forgetting to write. 


Later this week I will be making chocolate peanut butter brownies. Will I find the time to write about it, or will I be too involved in my eating? Only time will tell :)

Friends Friends Everywhere

We spend our whole lives when we are children waiting to grow up. We want to get out of school, meet our prince charming, find the perfect job, marry, have kids, take trips, etc. We barely take the time to appreciate what we have as a child: those best friends. Last year I took anther step out of childhood and into adulthood. I married Paul, and I couldn't have asked for a better man. Marriage is.... interesting to say the least. All the advice, warnings, movies, quotes, whatever did not prepare me for the compromising, frustrating, passionate, exciting, heart-stopping, crazy, wild ride that is my life. Marriage IS different than dating, no matter what you think before you get married. When you are dating you can change your mind in a moment and walk away from it all. With marriage you are a bit more tied in. You have to put in the extra effort. You see each other all the time (and in my case at least that is a good thing). But marriage is something indescribable and I am only 1.5 years into it. Who knows where the next 60 years will take us. 

Me and Leslee on her birthday in Costa Rica (2003)

As I have inched slowly towards the grown-up realms of the world via marriage, my friends are one by one joining me. My childhood best friend and sister, Andrea, married the year before I did. It was such a beautiful wedding and I cried through the entire thing (nothing surprising there). My boarding school buddy Leslee chose to marry Liz-Style this year, quick and small with just a few close relatives. Although I couldn't be there because of work and VERY short notice, I was there with her in spirit. I am looking forward to celebrating her marriage this summer. My college friend Tiffany has set a date for her wedding in August (on my mum's birthday!). And then, cherry on top, my friend Kristen has just been proposed to on 11.11.11 at 11:11 (who can forget that date?!) I was overjoyed for her, as I think Kristen and Keven are such a great team. That is 4 of my friends jumping into the deep end in two years. Whoa. Welcome to adulthood.

Me and Andrea doing Ballet/Tap/Jazz together       

Me and Kristen on the Beach 

A few months ago when I realized my soon-to-be married friends were all looking into summer weddings, I realized the other implication of this - three flights back to America for the weddings. It is too much to hope that they will conveniently place them one week after another for me. No, that would be too selfish on my part. And I really love all of them. It would be impossible to miss them. So I firmly decided I would just save up for these flights (plus hotel, plus food, plus transportation, plus the million other little travel costs). Paul gently mentioned that it would be so much easier if I didn't have so many friends.

If you were at my wedding (and you probably were because I know the three people that read this - yes you Mom, Dad and Kathleen, were all definitely there), you know I have a lot of friends. I had 7 bridesmaids and a Jr. Bridesmaid, and I absolutely refused to decrease the numbers. 

Sarah visits me in Denver (2010)

To me each of those special ladies are a part of me, a BIG part. They helped me shape who I am today and they continue to influence my life. They make me happy, they give me strength, they possess qualities that I hope to learn from. So no, I will not surreptitiously decrease my communication with them until we are no longer friends.

Erin and I travel to Istanbul (2009)

Yes, friends can drain your energy, take your time, complain, and sometimes be very expensive. But those are not the kinds of friends that I surround myself with (except the expensive part . The people I choose as friends are those people that give back. They add to my life and they make it even more wonderful than before. Every friend I have is a blessing, and there are so many difficult things in this life, why would we cut out the blessings?

Kathleen and I go out in Oxford (2008?)

Like I mentioned earlier, marriage can be a lot of work - you are with the person EVERY DAY, forever and ever. It can take a lot of time to bring them up to speed about your life, beliefs, adventures, thoughts, feelings, interests, even when you think you know them before the big day. But my friends, they are so easy to be with. I slip into my relationships with them like my favorite pajamas. I am comfortable and I know if we don't talk for a week or a month we are still good friends - we just happen to be busy. They know what I loved to do when I was 5 years old, the awkward co-rec dances when I was 12. They remember my first high school boyfriend, my college spring break trip, my senior binge. They have been there for a great deal of time - 7, 10, 25 years. This is something that will take Paul another 25 years to achieve, but my childhood friends will still always have a few years on him. He may know me better today, but they know my past. And your past makes you who you are today. For my health and sanity, these friendships are important. 

Alessa and I go Canyoning in
Interlakin (2008)

I say if you can find those people who bring out the best in you, who challenge you to become a better person, who support you in your times of need, who get mad at those jerks that break your heart, who go out on a Monday for drinks so you won't go alone, who make an effort to know the sweet man that you choose to spend your life with, who drunk Skype you even though you have moved halfway around the world just because they miss you, who still send you hand made cards (and a million more wonderful things) ... these are the people you need to hold on the strongest to, with both hands, feet and teeth if needed. Even if it does mean I am 4K poorer this year.... Sometimes you have to make the sacrifices to keep those important people close by.

Tiff and I at a soccer game in Denver, OH (May 5, 2010)

So as we shuffle even further into that strange, adult world, I will keep fighting for these friendships that I have built over decades. I know that the future is coming - more work, kids (someday, a long long way in the future!), houses, pets, trips, and probably a few more weddings (not my weddings at least!)- but above all I know that my friends will be there for me if I need them. And I will be there for them, on their wedding day as they promise their life to another and join the rest of us old married ladies. Oh, and I will probably be crying. Love you and miss you my friends <3

The Running Life

Paul and I have completed several races together over the last few weeks. I like running with Paul, it makes the time go by quicker, and it feels nice to accomplish something together. On October 16th, we ran the Amsterdam marathon together. We had a nice late start (so no 5am wake up), and free transportation to the Olympic stadium where we started. 


It was during this race that I began to think about running a marathon together almost as a metaphor for going through life together. We started in the same block, and had to wait for a lot of slow runners - we weaved in and out of these slow runners, but always made sure that we were still together. I broke a strap on my backpack before kilometer 1. Paul and I pulled over to the side together to fix it. We then started off again. Before we knew it we were already at kilometer 15. It was another water stop, and while I carry my own water, Paul wanted to pull to the side to grab a cup. I drank some water and walked along the far side away from the water. When I turned back I couldn't see Paul anywhere. I started to job ahead, but still couldn't see him. After about 2 kilometers of fast race running, Paul was nowhere to be seen. I decided he was either waiting for me at the water stop or behind me. So even though I was running a marathon, I turned around. I ran back down the path I had came, looking for Paul. When I was all the way back to the water stop the runners were thinning out, and still I did not see him. So I decided to run the correct way and just keep going. I easily passed all the slower runners and returned to the spot I had been running before (near the boys in the pink tutus!). I ran for 10km alone, enjoying the bands, DJs that had pimped out cars, and interesting runners. Then, I spotted Paul way ahead of me. I sprinted to catch up, afraid to lose him again. 

It turns out that Paul had thought I had gone ahead of him, so he had continued running to catch up with me. Despite our brief separation, we had both been looking for each other. We finished the last 17K together. I shared my food, Paul waited while I made a pit-stop, we didn't talk much but we supported each other just by being there. We finally crossed the finish line, together, as it should be. It wasn't our best time, but no one got injured and neither of us were particularly sore.

After the race, we decided to sign up for the Lausanne half marathon on October 30th. The race started in the afternoon, and we all got suited up and headed to La-Tour-de-la-Pelize where the race started. The train was packed and they had asked us to arrive an hour early - not like there is anything to do an hour before a race. So we took pictures, lounged around on the grass, used the toilets multiple times, and finally were able to get into our starting blocs. Paul and I chatted while we waited and slowly moved toward the starting line. When our bloc began, both Paul and I were feeling a little tired and sore. I eventually warmed up, but Paul still had pain. I slowed down to run with him even though I wanted to sprint ahead. I thought to myself that it doesn't matter the speed you go through life - it ends either way - but it's better to be with someone than alone. So we jogged along taking in the beautiful scenery. I was composing a blog in my head, thinking about how important it is to stick together, but also sometimes to go alone. And when you do go alone (like when I ran the Geneva marathon), then it is important to have your partner cheering for you on the sidelines, supporting you. Just like in life sometimes you have to do things alone, and it is much better to have support while you do. 

Then, about kilometer 4, disaster struck. Paul started limping, and eventually couldn't run anymore. He had severe pain in his calf. Despite trying to run several times, he just couldn't. I didn't want him to get hurt more so I said I'd rather walk with him. After several minutes he told me to go on and finish the race alone. But I didn't want to - I wanted to stay with Paul while he was injured. After a few minutes more of insisting, I gave him a few kisses and ran on. Then all the thoughts of "You never leave a man behind" disappeared from my head. I guess a race is not like life all the time. You've paid $50, so if you can you might as well finish. The other person will get picked up by the bus at the end and make it back too. As long as we tried to stay together, that is the important part.


And now the weather is turning colder a we are looking more towards a season of snowboarding than running - which is okay with me. Because, if you think about it, snowboarding it a bit like life... :)

Grandparents

Is this heaven? He asks.

Or am I dreaming? I wake up to this delicious breakfast and I am surrounded by four beautiful girls.

He gives the happiest, most content smile. He means his wife, his two daughters and one granddaughter. He looks at me and smiles even bigger.

My heart breaks.

I hold his hand and hug him. I hug him so tight and all I feel the frail man under the layers and layers of clothes that try but fail at keeping him warm. He shivers a little and I hold him tighter.

We watch one of his grandsons marry the love of his life. Then later, in an unheated but beautifully decorated barn, we watch them dance their first dance. I am holding his hand and leaning on his thin shoulder. I think it can’t get better than this. Grandpa smiles at me. It just got better.

I give him a hug goodnight. He looks into my eyes, straight to my heart. I love you so much, he says. I wish I could see you more. I do too, I say. I really mean it.

Sometimes he can’t hear what is going on around him. We talk too fast, too quietly. He looks lost, and left out and I hate that. I want him to be part of everything. I want him to feel surrounded and loved. Sometimes he can hear and he joins in with his witty banter, and it is just like when I was younger. When we played prisoner and he sang with me, and told me stories. Even then, I wasted my time with him. When you are young you don’t realize how important your grandparents are. They are solid, ever loving and maybe not as exciting as children think they should be. But they are filled with wisdom and history and knowledge. You avoid them on the phone and talk to them as little as possible. Then one day you wake up and they are older and you realize time doesn’t wait.

It just tick tick ticks away.

Sometimes grandpa talks about when he met grandma. She was the prettiest girl, he said. She asked to borrow my jokes on the train. Then I went back to her and asked if I could talk to her, because I was lonesome.

I never did read those jokes, grandma adds in. Grandpa smiles at her as if the whole world still revolves around her. Three kids and 68 years of marriage later and he is still hopelessly in love. It is the gold standard. Unless Paul makes it to 97 years of age, we will never be married that long. But I can see the love in my grandpa’s eyes. I even caught grandma smiling once too.

Grandparents are always given the special table – the table closest to the wedding party or to the person of honor. But I also notice that this table is never full. Even at grandpa’s 90^th birthday, his table only had half the seats taken. It almost feels as if they are surrounded by family and friends but no one wants to sit with them. Everyone would rather sit with friends or the younger crowd. Which I get, except that my cousins will most likely still be there next year and we have plenty of time to catch up. I cannot say the same for my grandparents. I wish people would fight to be at the grandparents table.

And now I’m on another plane, heading away from grandma and grandpa. I feel terrible sometimes, for living so far away, I told my cousin. You have to live your life, my cousin replied. I understand that. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling terribly guilty and sad all at once. I want to learn everything about my grandparents. I want to ask them a million questions and I am so afraid I am running out of time. They are part of a generation that lived through World War 2, the Great Depression, the invention of the computer and many other newfangled devices. They have so much to share; they traveled so many places and saw so many things. How I wasted so many years when their memory was good to learn about them. I don’t want to waste any more time. But I live in Switzerland. How do I reconcile that?

I guess I write letters, I call more often, I visit when the opportunity arises.

Is this heaven? He asks again. No grandpa, I respond, not yet. You aren’t getting there for a while.

Then am I dreaming? This is so wonderful, he smiles at me. You aren’t dreaming either grandpa. I smile back and give him the longest, strongest hug I can. I love you grandpa.

I love you too, dear, he says.

My graduation from Miami University 2008

Grandpa Blair's 90th Birthday (Fall, 2009)

Grandma at our celebration - Grandpa wasn't well enough to travel and he was greatly missed (June 2010)

Grandma and Grandpa and Dave and Cassie's Wedding (October 2011)

Family Time

I am back in the international departure lounge at Chicago O'Hare Airport. I have decided this is the absolute worst departure lounge out of anywhere I have ever waited in. There is no Starbucks, there are no restaurants, there are no BARS. There IS a little kiosk that is labeled "Bar", that has a few bottles of not very cold beer. I can also buy Cheezits or trail mix. Whoo hoo. This is what I need for my last few hours in America.


Anyways.


This past weekend was amazing. First, I spent Rosh Hashanah with my Aunt Sunny and Uncle Sherm at their condo in Chicago. We had lots of delicious Jewish food - Challah, Gefilte fish, stew, it was a delicious meal. We were also celebrating my grandma and grandpa's 68th wedding anniversary. Now that is a LONG time to be married to each other. And grandpa is still totally head over heels for grandma. I can only hope Paul and I will end up like that. 

Friday mom and dad and I drove to Lafayette, Indiana to get ready for the wedding the next day. After a futile search for Sushi for lunch, we gave up and headed to our hotel. That evening was the rehearsal dinner and it was so fun to see the cousins again. I forget how great it is to just chat with my cousins who are all older, wiser, and with the same terrible sense of humor as me. My cousin David and I went over to Dave and Cassie's place to spend a bit more time with the bride and groom. By the time we had headed home, David and I found out how much fun it is to drive down a completely unlit country road. Let me tell you, it is NOT fun. But we made it, and that was important.

Before I knew it, it was wedding day! My parents and I with Jasmine (Chris's girlfriend) went on a quick trip to Target. I was overwhelmed and loving it. I bought brown sugar, pumpkin pie mix, cough syrup, a warmer dress and hat, pens, big paper clips, clip boards, duct tape and more things that are not sold in Switzerland. There's nothing like importing office supplies! I bought a warmer dress because I had come to Switzerland with a skanky dress not realizing that the reception would be in an unheated barn. I bought a warm sweater and tights too. I would be prepared for the cold!


Now it was time for lunch, and Sushi! We visited two sushi places, both closed for lunch. I was in despair. Then Jasmine came to the rescue. She used her magic smartphone to find an open Sushi place. It was perfect and made my day. We then rushed home to get ready for the wedding. 


I'll spare you the tale of getting lost on the way to the wedding. But I promise, we did get lost. And we didn't even take a mom short-cut! Luckily we were not the last ones there, and we rushed into our seats. 

Finally grandma and grandpa arrived as well, and the ceremony started. Dave walked grandma down the aisle, and the grandparents were tucked under blankets in the front row. Dave and his groomsmen took their places, then the bridesmaids walked down the aisle. 
















Finally a car carrying Cassie pulled up. She stepped out and looked perfect and glowing. I almost started crying right there. 

She joined Dave at the altar, and the ceremony began. It was the fastest service ever. They exchanged their rings and said their vows - sweet, written heartfelt and funny vows. 

Dave and Cassie have been together in my mind forever. Seven years. Cassie has just always been my cousin - another part of our awesome, crazy, weird family.

  It was so touching to see them put their hearts out there and make it legal. I admit, I cried a few times. As quickly as it started, the service was over and they walked back down the aisle. 

After hugs and pictures, the family and friends headed back up to the barn. It was beautifully decorated with lights, vines, and string balls. The beer and wine was flowing, the music was good, and I got to sit with grandma and grandpa. 

Me and Grandma!

Me and Grandpa

KISS!!! KISS!!!

The cute newlyweds :)

Yep, I have an awesome family

And a super duper mommy

And a fantastic dad

LOVE the cake! Great idea!

After the nonagenarians went home, I got to dance with all my favorite cousins and family. Weddings are such a beautiful celebration of love and family and I am so lucky I got to come and spend time with everyone.

 

When and where will the next wedding be? Hopefully I will be able to come and share my love <3

Being an Immigrant

In America, there is such a negative connotation with the word “immigrant”. What do you think of when you think of an “immigrant”? I am sitting next to a woman on my plane from Zurich to Chicago. She is Bosnian but is a U.S. immigrant (and citizen!) She was a refugee from the war and her and her husband found a safe place in Boise, Idaho. She told me about how difficult it was when she first arrived and she was just beginning to learn English. She went to the bank to deposit a check, but the person had written the amount but had not written out the words. The teller told her to write the words and she tried to explain that her English was not good enough to write that yet. The teller apparently belittled her for the next five minutes and told her she should be embarrassed that she can’t write. This makes me very sad and embarrassed for the American people. We are a country of immigrants and yet we snub them and look down our noses at them. But with the exception of the Native Americans (and even their ancestors a VERY long time ago) we are all descendents of immigrants. Someone in our family once had to learn a new language, the new customs, navigate a new government system and strange country. So why is it now wrong to be an immigrant?

What has given me all this perspective, do you ask? I am now an immigrant to Switzerland. I live in a country where I don’t fully understand the government, the people or the language. I go to the bank and I am sometimes confused about what the tellers ask me. I get letters from the government (sometimes French, sometimes German) and I get scared that 1. I have done something wrong and 2. I am not able to read what I have done. I am that person that the citizens of Switzerland do not want in their country. Lucky for me I could return to the U.S. if I needed to, and I will not be settling in Switzerland permanently. I couldn’t even imagine having to leave my family, friends, language and home to live somewhere new. This is especially true when that somewhere new is America. It is a land of immigrants who no longer want to accept immigrants. But I know from experience that many immigrants take jobs that citizens of that country do not want. The lady sitting next to me worked night shifts at the Solo plastic company as well as in a lab during the day. She works 12 hours a day and pays taxes to the government. So what is the big problem? In Switzerland I pay my taxes, I obey the rules, I am trying to learn French.

We have a political organization in Switzerland that really hates immigrants. They put up controversial posters to fight some of their causes. Their latest poster has a Swiss flag being walked on by a multitude of black legs. Underneath it says “Stopper L’Immigration Massive! C’est Suffit!” or in English “Stop the Massive Immigration! That’s Enough!" This sign makes me feel terrible. It is talking to me. Now I can have a greater appreciation for those immigrants who come to America and just want to find a job, put food on the table, live in a safe place and contribute. Instead of forcing them to hide as illegal immigrants let’s make them legal – have them pay taxes! It’s not like there isn’t enough room in America. And maybe the American people could have a little more empathy. It’s not that we (the immigrants) are stupid. I can read and write quite well in English. The lady next to me can read and write quite well in Bosnian, German and now English and that is much more impressive than the monolingual narrow-minded bank teller.

Maybe everyone should be an immigrant once. It sure gives  you perspective in life and helps you see things from the other side of the window. I know that I will never feel the same way about immigrants and I think that has made me a better person.  

Across the Atlantic

Surprise surprise. I am on another plane crossing over the Atlantic. I spent 4 days making detailed sub plans, completing school assignments, and preparing for this quick 5 day jaunt to Chicago. The last few weeks have passed by in a complete blur. One day runs into another and there is never enough time in the day. In a way, that is a good thing. I am doing a lot, learning a lot, gaining experience. But in another way I just want things to slow down a little. I used to think all the time (and sometimes still do), “I can’t wait for this thing or that thing to happen!” I spent a lot of time looking into the future. I guess most children do. They wonder what they will be doing after they finish school, where they will end up and who they will end up with. Right now is the time I have always been dreaming about and it is moving too fast. Right now on this plane I get to slow down a little. I don’t have to rush from one job to another or log online to write another long grad paper. I have watched 2 movies, finished putting thank you cards into their envelopes, and get a breather to just think. I’ve got 3 more hours before I land and I’ve already thought, “what should I do next?” I am not so good at this thinking and relaxing.

This is one of the reasons I love training for a marathon. You have to do these long two, three, four hour runs. Other than listening to music or talking with a friend, you have lots of thinking time. I went for a training run Sunday night. I probably ran about 16 kilometers and was in that daze where I don’t really notice I am running and I am instead completely lost in my thoughts. I had about an hour left of running before I got back home and it was late and dark so I was running with a headlamp. Suddenly I was approached by another runner who at first scared the bejeezus out of me. Then he explained that he had forgotten his headlamp and wanted to know if I was going back to Lausanne. I said yes and we started off. I proceeded to spend the next hour speaking completely in French and barely even noticing I was running. Although this doesn’t count as “thinking” time, the run was a good mix of thinking and learning. After finishing the run I was amazed at myself. I just held an hour long conversation in French. This is something I never thought I could do. Learning another language is so difficult and I sometimes feel like I am making up words when I speak. That makes me think even more about what we are capable if only we apply ourselves and put in enough practice time.

Now I will spend a bit more time thinking before I arrive in Chicago and go back into fast forward with family and friends. I guess I am grateful that I have so many wonderful things that pass my time. Bring it on Chicago! 

Apprende une Langue a la Dure

I was born in America - in Los Angeles to be exact. In almost all ways I am very fortunate. I grew up with an amazing family, extended family and friends. I lived in a beautiful home, went to decent schools (and a boarding school!). I never went hungry and I was given every opportunity to succeed. There is only one real thing that is missing in America - other languages. 


In Europe, everyone speaks at least two languages. You have to, all of your neighbors 2 hours away speak something different. In Switzerland, there are four national language. Within the same country you can change languages several times. People who just speak a "little" French, German, Italian and Spanish speak more of one of those languages than an American high school graduate speaks of one. I am continually amazed at the amount of English everyone around me speaks. I am also continually ashamed of the very small amount of French that I speak. At this point in my life I can't blame it on America. I have lived in Switzerland for two years (non consecutively). But I have excuses. I have an entire bag of excuses. My husband speaks English. Our flatmates speak English, so do all of our friends. I work in English, both in America and in Switzerland. Other than the working pieces of language (Merci, S'il vous plait, non, oui, etc.) why do I need to know more? 


I also know many many expats who have lived in Switzerland for ten, fifteen, twenty years and they don't speak a lick of French. I say, how is that possible? Why didn't you learn? Then I look at my life and I see it is just one year after another. One step after another. Twenty years later, surrounded by English speaking family and friends, you don't speak the native language. I do not want to be one of those people.


So for the last four days I have been with my French speaking students and my French speaking colleagues at Les Martiens - a chalet in Plains-Sur-Bex, up in the mountains. It has an absolutely stunning view, good food, and is entirely in French. My team teacher, Sophie, speaks English very well. The other teacher who came with us, Vanya, also speaks very well. Both of them took "a few courses" of English in school, and yet their level of English far surpasses mine of French. Luckily, they were ready to teach me.


For four day, I listed to the children tell me stories in French. I'll be honest, I didn't always understand everything. Sometimes I had to ask them to repeat, or I had to ask about a word. It is a very humbling experience, asking an 8 year old to repeat something because you didn't understand. It is also quite uncomfortable. But that is learning sometimes - humbling and uncomfortable. I also think it might be the only way to truly learn a language. You have to be completely immersed, with a dictionary and a few minutes of translation here and there. If I had the safety of my English speaking home to retreat to, I would not have nearly learned as much. I am still thinking in French right now - and I suppose that is a good thing.


I am also completely exhausted. I know it is not just the school or the kids. I've worked at camps that are much more exhausting. It is the constant listening and paying attention. When you are learning a new language just by listening you can't be passive. If I am not always paying attention and focusing on every word, I lose my place and thought. I get completely lost in the word. I can't pause to take in what is said. The Francophones speak too fast for that. I have to be attentive and let myself flow with the river of French. It takes all of my energy all day. I am completely wiped.


So it's bedtime now and there are no little voices asking for a bisous (kiss) or calin (hug). Just silence and my thoughts that range from English into French and back. And I think about how grateful I am to have had the life I had, but also how much easier it would be if I had lived in a place that valued other languages, that made it a priority. Instead I am learning it now, at 25 years old. Better late than never, right?

Balancing Sundays

It's that time again. Sunday night. In less than an hour it will technically be Monday morning and a start to another work week. Another fresh start. Another stressful week.


This week was another new start for me. On Monday I started my new job with College Champittet. I am teaching preschool, third, fourth and fifth grade. It is all very exciting, this new job. It is my first REAL teaching position and I am so happy. I am also more busy than I have ever been. Last year, I tutored 6-9 hours a week, worked online 20-30 hours a week, and spent 15-20 hours a week earning my masters. This year, I work 28 hours a week in school as well. Sometimes I worry, where will that time come from? I can't work 90 hours a week, I would be exhausted and burned-out. Something has to give. It can't continue that way. 

I read the blog of a teacher of mine from 9 years ago when I attended boarding school. She is raising her first child and her blog is elegant and well written (she was my English teacher after all). Something she said really struck me -

Find the balance between the effort and the ease…


This is something I feel I may have a problem with. Like my teacher, Kerry, I have no problem with the effort part of that saying. I like to work hard and do things well. I like to have a good finished product. I like a job well done. I like to have a finger in every pot, say yes to every opportunity, try everything. The problem is if I put all this effort into a million things then I am out of time and exhausted and good at none of them. I know this, and still I seem unable to make the hard choices that would make my life easier. I need to find the balance between the effort and the ease.


Ease is a very hard concept for me. I do not do well when I am not busy. Last year I was busy working and doing school work. This year, I am busy with much of the same, just even more on my plate than before. Every now and then I have a free hour and I am at a complete loss. What should I do with this relaxing, free time? Then I think I should have planned in a run or a guitar session. Things never seem to come or happen easily. 


Actually that last statement is a bit false. One of the most stable and wonderful things I have at this moment is my relationship with my husband. That comes with ease and it is something we must both strive not to take for granted. It feels so normal and right to be with Paul I rarely even think about the fact that we are married. We just ARE. I have to embrace this and be thankful for the time we get together (the very little bits between my work and his).

So where is my balance? On this Sunday night I am taking some time for myself. I am writing, and then going to do a bit of reading before calling it a night. I got to chat to my parents. I wrote thank you notes. I went for a long run (16K) and finished without stopping. I cooked me and Paul a healthy, delicious dinner. The house has been cleaned top to bottom. It is difficult, but balance is such a necessary factor in our daily lives. I just have to keep making the effort to find that balance. 

The Best Day

View from our hostel

Yesterday I took a day off of work. I start teaching on Monday (and I am VERY excited!) but I thought since the summer was almost over I might as well. I had a friend who I traveled with on Birthright Israel who was passing through Switzerland for 2 days. I figured I might as well go and meet him to explore for a day. So I woke up at 6 (!) and took a 2 hour train to Interlaken where I met up with Jake. He hopped on the train and we continued on. Another hour later and we were on a Gondola on our way up to Gimmelwald. We checked into a hostel with the most beautiful view I have ever seen. And at this point it was only 10am. We dropped our things, made a new friend, and started on a trail towards the ice caves.

I need to stop here and talk a little bit about the person who came with us. His name is Trent and he is Australian. He is also the quietest Australian and one of the quietest people I have ever met. We also nicknamed him the Mountain Goat. He is the fastest hiker I have ever met. I mean I think I am in shape, but I felt like I had never been on a hike before, let alone take a walk. I was huffing and puffing and picking up the back. Luckily Jake wasn't doing much better so I didn't feel completely useless.

Meadow near ice caves

So we hiked and hiked. We hiked in a beautiful canyon along a ranging river for about an hour. Mostly up hill but some downhill also. Finally, the canyon just opening up into a beautiful meadow surrounded by sheer cliffs with waterfalls spurting from the walls. It was just breathtaking and I stood there with my mouth open, looking all around. Scenes like that no picture can ever capture (which is good because I forgot my camera). We continued through the meadow and up to the ice caves. 

Entry to the large ice cave

The ice caves turned out to be natural openings under the glacier that was into the valley. They were like nothing I have ever seen before - so wide and tall a car could have driven through! We went inside and the temperature dropped immediately. It is such a strange feeling to be completely surrounded by ice. After some wandering and playing on ice, and soaking wet from the water dripping from the ceiling, we came out. There were three large waterfalls nearby another opening, so we headed toward those.

The three waterfalls

The journey up to the waterfalls was easy - slippery loose rocks but at least it wasn't too wet. A few minutes later we were standing against a wall with waterfalls on either side of us. I went to a rock to get my friend to take a picture and slipped - you forget how slippery they can be! Luckily I just landed on the rock and ended up with a slightly bruised hand. I returned to the wall to just enjoy the beauty. The wind started picking up and one of the waterfalls was spraying all of its water on us. In a few minutes we were soaked! We picked our way one by one down the hill of rocks to the sunshine. We found some rocks and laid out to dry (on the glacier!).

The rock of death!

It was getting later in the afternoon and we were hungry. After a short walk back on the same trail we had arrived in, we spotted a cave a short ways up another hill. After a 5 minute hike we were in a shallow cave. The walls framed the cliffs and the meadow, and the cave was full of butterflies. They landed on our heads and feet and fluttered near our food. It was almost unbelievable having such a beautiful lunch (of bread, turkey and cheese!).

Once again we were on the move, this time to a waterfall. Now the "path" to this waterfall is more like a shallow cliff scramble. The rock was smooth and weathered, with cracks here and there to put your feet in. There were also some trees and plants that had broken through the bedrock and were always in the place we needed to go. After 15 minutes of a 60 degree incline, we made it to our first waterfall. After changing into bathing suits, our Mountain Goat climbed down into the water. This waterfall/river area is hard to describe. There is no dirt or soil because the small river runs right in the bedrock. There are smaller rocks in the bed of the stream, but you can think of it more like a slide, made out of one big bedrock, that the water runs through. The first waterfall we went under had a small cave behind it. When I say small I mean that I could just curl up my body into the little alcove. I don't think the boys fit so the just stuck their heads in. The next waterfall we scrambled another 5 minutes up another 60 degree incline. That waterfall was much taller, falling from 30 feet above, and gave a great massage. We spent another hour or so scrambling on these rocks, into shallow pools and slide like streams, then napped/chilled in the sunshine to dry. It felt like paradise.

The last few hours of the day, Jake and I hiked up to the nearby "town" of Murren. It had a little grocery store where we bought some fruit and found a bench to eat and chat. Within 10 minutes a thunderstorm had moved in and we were getting drenched. We ran to the gondola station and got down quickly and dry.


The rest of the night passed like all the others in hostels. We had dinner, beer, and made friends with all the travelers. As the storm thundered on, a full rainbow appeared in the sky and we all stopped to admire it and take pictures. It's not often you get a full rainbow and a view like the one we had.

Rainbow!

It was funny with people asking me, "How long is your trip?" and I had to respond that I live in Switzerland and I was just taking a day off. I certainly don't sound Swiss, so that always confuses people. Either way, it was a great, relaxing night.


I forgot how amazing Switzerland can be, if you don't spend your time dealing with Swiss people. There are so many beautiful places to visit and travel to and with the trains it is all very easy.