The End

I promised I'd write one last post once I am settled back in my house. It took forever. I moved in on January 20, almost four months after arriving in Portland, almost to the day two years after moving out. I took a break from blogging because I wanted to spare my readers the mundane details, issues and worries that were bound to come up as I was rebuilding my life in Portland. At first I very much missed the act of writing for an audience. The blog had become a kind of mirror in which I could check myself. Since I didn't want to come through as whiny, throughout my adventure blogging forced me to look at the positive, or at least interesting aspects of my life. And so, mostly, I ended up liking what I saw/read in the mirror of my blog. Hey Irene, you are looking pretty good... it certainly was a confidence booster. The many supportive messages I would receive in response to my posts reinforced that feeling and definitely gave me courage.

And so I am back, in my house, surrounded by my things, to which were added items that had belonged to my dad and to my aunt. Mostly everything found a place. The unpacking was difficult, in turn emotional and exhilarating. But having now broken pretty much all my ties with Switzerland, it feels good to be surrounded by objects reminding me of loved ones and of happy times.

It also is fun to have more clothes than the one suitcase I had taken with me on the ship. For 4 months I lived with whatever had fit in, in addition to paperwork, electronics and the fancy clothes for the Queen Mary. At least I had something nice to wear for the holidays. On the plus side, I never wasted any time wondering what I should wear - it always was the same pair of jeans. On laundry day I'd change into sweats! Now the choice is both fun and overwhelming, and I still feel like I am wearing a costume with anything else but the old jeans!

The four months until I could move into my house were not easy. I was very fortunate that Marianne and I got along very well. She never put any pressure on me to move out, which helped tremendously, and for which I'll forever be grateful. The challenges were huge, but eventually I worked through them all. I started by getting a car, without which I was not going to be able to claim any kind of independence. Kind friends drove me to dealerships. I had major issues wiring the funds from the sale of my Dad's apartment - with which I was going to pay for the fixing up of my house. Among others, they screwed up on the exchange rate, multiplying instead of dividing, causing the loss of a substantial sum. These difficulties delayed the beginning of the remodel by a good month. I agonized over getting my shipment through customs - my personal effects accumulated over the 21 months spent in Switzerland, augmented with items from Dad's and my aunt's apartments. It is an intimidating process and I spent hours researching it and preparing for it. Eventually it went without a hitch, in part thanks to my preparation, in part because I lucked out with a great customs agent. At just about that time I started to suffer from a pinched nerve in my neck. Intense pain radiating from my shoulders down to my fingers, getting worse by the day, preventing sleep at night. Within less than a week I was on steroids and vicodin. Fortunately physical therapy worked and once I started treatment I saw quick improvements. It was a scary, time-consuming and costly event. But it's all good now.

In the midst of these difficulties there was one bright area: the remodel was progressing very well. It actually was less of a remodel than finally dealing with much delayed essential maintenance. I replaced the furnace, the roof and the windows, all the original 30 year old ones. I rebuilt the retaining wall between my property and the neighbors', which had started to lean precariously. We gave the whole house a fresh coat of pain, and a face-lift to the guest bath. The most exciting part was carving out a real bathroom for myself, as well as a small walk-in closet, not really a luxury, is it? My contractor was great to work with, a woman, and she actually was listening to what I wanted and completed the work on time and within budget. Her workers are kind, sweet and excellent craftsmen. I definitely recommend her.

The holidays were another challenge. I love Christmas, but I didn't feel much like celebrating. I had no place to host my kids who both were in town for a couple of weeks. We had to be creative - one night they cooked for me at their Dad's who was out for the night and we spent a cozy evening just the 3 of us. One afternoon they accompanied me to Ikea and helped me purchase furniture for what used to be their respective rooms. I could never have pulled it off on my own. They helped me navigate through the crowd, focused me, narrowed my choices, tested the mattresses, measured, compared, advised... Thanks to them the afternoon was a success and I now have a very nice guest room waiting for my distant readers.

It's been already a month since I moved back into my house. Each time I return home from some errand, it still feels life a privilege to be back in my things, to have privacy, to be not only back at home, but also back in my life. In a couple of days I am flying back to Switzerland, for 2 weeks. My aunt is not doing well. We almost lost her over Christmas, as she broke her hip, and caught pneumonia after surgery. She turned 94 on January 1, and has survived, though the quality of her life is now much diminished. I had promised her that I would visit her towards the end of the winter - so it is time. My imminent departure provided a good deadline by which I wanted all the boxes unpacked and the garage organized so I can park my car in it while I am gone. Done.

All of the above had taken much time and mental energy, leaving none for job search. When I return I'll have to aggressively work on it. It will be difficult. I am pushing 60 and have now been out of the workforce for 3 years. After having been rejected so often it is difficult to believe that indeed one day I will be offered a job. The constant rejection is painful and undermines confidence. I now hesitate applying for jobs because as long as I don't apply I don't run the risk of being rejected yet one more time.

Still, I have not been completely idle. I have reactivated my network and resumed volunteer work - of course for the Sierra Club High Desert Committee, but also for the Portland Parks Foundation, now run by a former Lazar grantee, and primarily for The Old Church, which is a community/event center housed in a historic church building.

Being back in Portland and in my own house, I can now also measure the progress I have made over the last 2 years. I am still missing my father, but the pain is definitely more dull. I still miss the excitement of the foundation work and the contact with the grantees, but I am aware that the loss of the job was the price I had to pay for the adventures and experiences of the last 2 years. It feels awkward going back to Switzerland before having recreated a life for myself in Portland. While I usually dread the trips back to Switzerland, I have to admit that I am looking forward to this one. Part of me still is there and it feels like going home - although I no longer have a place of my own there. I am looking forward to catching up with my friends. I am afraid that deep down I have not yet realized how far away I am again from them all, and that in the future my visits will be less frequent.

I would like to end with a tidy conclusion, but I can't. When I return from Switzerland I'll restart my Portland life in earnest, but I still don't know what it will look like. I will strive to find some routine, some meaning, and hopefully some source of income. I will continue to cultivate my friendships, I will contribute to causes I believe in, I will be physically active, learn more and enjoy the natural and cultural wealth Portland and Oregon have to offer.

Thank you all, my family and my friends, for your unwavering support. Without you I would have sunk in despair. Please stay in touch and visit.



Obviously my tenants were not keen gardeners and my yard turned into a jungle. I can't even begin to count the number of hours already spent cleaning it up - and I have barely scratched the surface (pun not intended!).











Some days I would have to park at the neighbors', as the whole space in front of my house was taken over by the trucks and equipment of the sub-contractors. The blue car in the foreground is my new car! Note how neat the little garden is now!










Rediscovering downtown Portland. The fall colors were gorgeous and seemed to last forever.














Portland - the city of many bridges (over the Willamette River).














I rarely left the city, though Marianne and I went for a hike to Cape Lookout. I needed to see the Ocean.














Right back into the swing of things - I helped with the harvest at the Cameron winery.














Thanksgiving walk along the Columbia River.
















And the Christmas walk also was along the Columbia!















Claire and partner Colin.















Eric and partner Pam.




















The family: Ernst, Martin, Grand-Pa Vlach, Claire, Colin, Irene, Eric, Pam.















The guest room, formerly Claire's room, waiting for your visit.

The journey goes on

I landed in Portland exactly one week ago. I thought I was coming home, but during the course of the week I had to admit to myself that the journey has not yet ended. I am in Portland, staying at Marianne's house until my own house will be fixed up and I don't anticipate moving in before the holidays. This means that it will be many more weeks before I am in my own home and can really resume my life - whatever that will be.

New York was another good transition between Switzerland and the permanent return to Portland. Unfortunately I didn't get to spend much time with Eric, as he now has a full time job. Still, we had evenings, and, sweet and kind as ever, he accompanied me to the subway to JFK. I used my time in New York to start organizing my Portland life. Got a prepaid cell phone, which gives me a reprieve on deciding on a cell phone plan. Spent hours surfing the web looking at cars, subscribed to Consumer Report to ensure that whichever car I am getting will not be a lemon - and I narrowed it down to 3 cars, which I test drove this week. Today I decided which car I am going to get and now I am working on getting the best possible deal and finding the cash to pay for it - for, because I don't have a job, I don't qualify for any kind of financing. Once I have wheels my life will become much simpler and I'll be much more autonomous. For now I have been depending on my friends and on my feet for transportation.

I landed in Portland on Friday at 6pm, and on Saturday morning at 10am I met with a contractor at my house. The house is in reasonably good order, except for the yard, which has reverted to a jungle. The bids for the various jobs are coming in, and by next week I should have an idea of how much fixing up the house will cost me. I feel we are off to a good start. I like my contractor, a woman who actually is listening to what I want. It also is wonderful to have a general contractor, as opposed to dealing myself with all the various tradesmen, as I had to do with my 2004 remodel.

So, on one hand I am feeling at home, and on the other, I am living out of a suitcase. My belongings are right here, but still not accessible. I miss warm sweaters, the muffin tins to bake hiking snacks, the gardening tools. Though I will retrieve these as soon as I have a car. I intend to spend as much time as possible at my house, starting to prune, and trim and yank... I have started to change my address back to my own house - an important step to release my friend Ernst from his mailbox responsibilities and to reclaim my independence on that front as well.

This week also has been very busy on the social side. Marianne is now partly retired, and we already have spent more time together than during my previous month-long stays. We did a great hike, leaving on foot from her house, up and down the forested hills to the north - in the rain. Indeed, this is full immersion into the Pacific-Northwest. The rains started the day after my arrival and I am yet to see the sun. On the plus side, I already witnessed spawning salmon, a sight which always fills me with awe.

On Monday I returned to my aquarobics class, receiving a warm welcome from the pool ladies. On Tuesday I went to yoga, to the studio, the teacher and the yogini I have been with for over 10 years. It was good both for my body and my soul, and Hannah's soup after the class was soothing on all levels. Wednesday night was the monthly meeting of the High Desert Committee. Borden took me car shopping, allowed me to treat him for dinner, took me to the meeting and drove me back home afterwords. I don't know how much time I'll be able to spend volunteering since I don't yet know what my life will entail, but I like being pulled back into the community and the opportunity to once again become an active member. Last night was Italian book club, a group as vibrant as ever. The reading was preceded by a soup as heart-warming as the hugs.

Since I am impatient to move back into my house and lead an independent life, but since it won't happen for quite a while, I decided that the best way to deal with it was to consider the next few weeks as part of the adventure, part of the journey, part of the Lemonade Project. I thought that this post would be the last one, but in view of the above, there will be one more when I move back into the house. I will not bore you with the ups and downs of my re-entry into my Portland life in this blog. However, I am looking forward to resuming a personal relationship with my readers in the Portland area, and a personal email correspondence with my European friends. I have some 500 unanswered emails in my inbox, accumulated during the many weeks during which I did not have regular access to the internet. Please be patient - I will get to it in time.

Thank you to my friends who have made this week bearable: Marianne for the generous sharing of the house, Rachel, Borden and Jon for the help with car buying; Hannah and Cathey for soups, Jody, Ric and Sandy for rides. Thank you Martin for the invitation to dinner and thank you all for the welcome home messages and calls. You are the ones who make it worthwhile coming back. I am looking forward to living once again in your community.

Time Out

I am writing at the dining room table at Eric and Pam's apartment in New York City. The room is dark because Pam is still sleeping and the air conditioner hums like the ship's engines. I am holding on tight, as the whole room is rocking and spinning. During the last few days at sea I sometimes would forget that I am on a ship, as my brain and body had adjusted to the continuous movement. Now, on land, I am feeling worse than on the roughest days, my whole system adjusting to the stillness of my new environment.

I boarded the ship at noon in Southampton on September 20th, and I disembarked at 11am, yesterday, September 27. This passage, in all the senses of the word, was one of the best things I ever did for myself. On a superficial level, of course, I had the time of my life. I had been dreaming of crossing the Atlantic on an ocean liner since I was a child, and I now was living the romance and the glamor of sailing on a beautiful ship. However, my soul and my heart were cruising on an equally powerful journey. Over the last 35 years I must have flown across the Atlantic on average once a year. I have much complained about the long journey, and I have boasted about the pleasing effects of happy pills, which make the trip feel short and painless. During all those years I had no idea of how big the Atlantic Ocean really is. The journey lasted 6 days and 7 nights.

A ship like the Queen Mary 2 offers innumerable distractions and opportunities to kill time. I hardly had time to partake in any of them. For me it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to do nothing, or to have nothing that needed to be done. Every night I would circle on the daily program various enriching activities. In the end I spent much time just being, staring out at the water, processing this new turn in my life, trying to let Europe, Zuoz, the bakery and my aunt go, trying not to worry about my new life.

Out of over 2,000 passengers, we were just about 100 single travelers - meaning it was impossible to spot them between the 13 decks and some 1,000 feet in length. I had boarded with no expectations of finding a buddy. All I was hoping for was a daily yoga class, and interesting companions at the dinner table. I ended up taking 2 yoga classes, one with each of the 2 instructors. They were ok, it felt good to stretch and move, but they were expensive (as almost everything on board) and of course could not be compared to the quality of Jim's classes. I can't wait to return to my Portland yoga studio! The dinner table, however, was a total success. I was seated at a round table (one of the few in the dining room) with 8 other Swiss, 4 German speaking, 4 French speaking, but all more or less bilingual. One of the "couples" were two men, members of what should have been a group of 6 friends traveling together. Dinners were fun and lively, with the service of the most delightful waiter who had to kick us out each night long after all the other tables were empty to make room for the 2nd dinner service. I would periodically run into one or the other of these couples during the day, have breakfast with these, a cup of coffee with those, go on a "date" to the planetarium , or to the nightly show, or for drinks after the show. It was perfect, as I never felt lonely, but had plenty time for myself alone nevertheless. My table companions were well-traveled, like me younger than the average passengers on the ship, down to earth and playing the glitz game with grace and humor.

The fellow passengers were indeed predominantly retired people, many quite old, and therefore the pace on the ship was very slow, as many had problems walking, all the more so on a rolling ship. Many times I had to slow down my brisk natural pace to wait for a widening in the hallway or the deck to be able to pass an elderly couple. It was a healthy exercise for me: whatever my impatience and my haste, we were all going to get to New York at the same time. So I have promised myself that I will endeavor to keep this feeling on land. I will die when my time comes, no matter how frantically I rush through life. I might as well slow down and enjoy the ride - at least until I find the proverbial job that will put me back into the rat race.

Eric picked me up at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. It was wonderful seeing him, hugging him, giving him a big kiss. What better welcome back to America!

Eric already tinkered with my computer, and I am happy to post a few pictures of this unforgettable journey.

Pictures:

Is she gorgeous or what?

The Grand Foyer. This is where one enters the ship, the first impression of the ship. It is in all the senses of the word, out of this world, a microcosm of wealth, civility, courtesy, peace and quiet.

Leaving Southampton. The orchestra on deck 6 is playing New York, among many other tunes to set the right mood

Glamor Irene on her last night on the ship. Dress code was casual elegant. I dressed early and treated myself to a maitai in the piano bar, all by myself, listening to the music and staring at the water.

My ship is coming

I returned from St. Gallen on Saturday night. Yesterday I rested, today I dealt with various personal business, paying bills, picking up the ticket for the trip on the Queen Mary, stocking up on chocolates; tomorrow it's the last trip to St. Gallen to say goodbye to my aunt.

Fortunately one doesn't have to do too often in a lifetime what I went through last week. Having moved my father to a nursing home, and later having watched him die, and now having moved my aunt, I am coming to the conclusion that it's easier to be watching over a dying elderly loved one. The physical work of sorting, packing, moving, carrying, all the items covered with dust accumulated over weeks, and sometimes over decades, the worrying about the physical and emotional well being of the loved one being uprooted and thrown into new surroundings and a new life over which she doesn't have much control, the grieving for the loved one who is no longer the person one was used to, and finally, the grieving for the loss of the last bit of childhood, all the memories dug up in the cleaning out of the apartment... thank God one doesn't have to go through this too often because it's unbearable. I have now cleaned out 4 homes in less than 3 years, two within 2 months. It's too many in too short a time. I trust that I'll never have to do it again.

It all went as well as possible. The retirement home is beautiful, clean, full of light. My aunt's room is big, bright, with just about the same beautiful view as she had from her home. It's large enough to fit all the furniture she was hoping to bring along, as well as her favorite art. The staff is kind, patient and understanding. Still, despite the fact that she understands the impossibility of her now living alone at home, and despite the fact that she wanted to come here, she also knows that this now is her universe until she dies. She knows all she has lost, first of all her independence, the ability to come and go as she pleases. Also very hard on me is the fact that I now have been visiting her once a month for almost two years, cooking for her, shopping for her, looking after her, making her laugh, and I feel like I am abandoning her by returning to my own life. She has become emotionally dependent on me, and I am feeling terrible leaving her. Yet, I must live my own life, whatever it will be. I am dreading tomorrow, I will need all the strength and courage I can muster.

The following 2 days will be spent sorting my own belongings and preparing for shipping everything but the content of one suitcase - which content will have to suffice until the shipment arrives, probably sometime in November. A couple of dinner dates with friends, and then it's my last weekend in Switzerland. The plans are still hazy, as I am hoping to spend it with my sisters, but their own plans are still fluid. Monday I will travel to Geneva for my last night in Switzerland, on Tuesday I'll travel to London to board the ship. Returning by boat is the best decision I have made: for one week I won't have either email or a phone, nobody can find me and upset the peace and quiet I will seek during the journey. I can truly transition from my Swiss life to whatever is expecting me in the United States.

Today I picked up my ticket and finally got the entertainment program of the trip. There'll be a masquerade - and let me tell you that 6 days before sailing my mind is focused on other issues than costumes and masks and other such frivolities!

Once again, thank you for your supportive emails and comments. My computer time is very limited and I can respond only to the most urgent messages. Writing a page for my blog is a rare treat - thank you Carole for lending me your computer!

My Place

It's a rare quiet day. I am stocking up on strength for this week's job: tomorrow I'll travel to St. Gallen and stay there until Saturday. My aunt has miraculously recovered and is getting stronger by the day. Her mind has cleared, she is again walking and she is actively participating in her imminent move to the retirement home. She still is in the hospital, taking advantage of the good care she is getting there, the physical therapy, the well-balanced meals, the adjusted meds. Her breathing is the best it's been since I arrived in Switzerland and her anxiety level has decreased accordingly. She definitely is strong enough to avoid the nursing home and is therefore moving to the retirement home in her neighborhood where her friends and neighbors will easily be able to visit. She is actually looking forward to it. The situation couldn't be any better. I have been visiting her once a week, each time also going to her apartment to check the mail and make phone calls to deal with her impending move. I have visited the retirement home, talked to the director, seen her banking advisor. Her friends are a great support, also for me, giving me rides, inviting me for meals when I stay overnight. The moving van arrives tomorrow afternoon, on Wednesday we move her, and then my sisters and I have another 3 days to clear out her apartment. It will be hard to leave her, but right now I feel that she is doing so well that she'll live to be 100 and I am confident that I'll see her again.

Oops... got carried away... It is true that my aunt is front and fore in my mind. When I return from St. Gallen on Saturday I'll have just one more week in Switzerland and will have to deal with my own move back to the US, the sorting and shipping of my goods. I was hoping to surf the internet to find a car to purchase upon my arrival in Portland, but obviously I didn't have the means nor the time to do that and so will have to deal with it when I arrive.

The last 3 weeks have been a mixture of sad, emotional, but also warm, fun and rewarding times. My aunt's illness has been difficult for me, both from an emotional and a logistical point of view. My body paid the price for the tension, and I had to add Neuchatel to the list of places in the world where I had to find a chiropractor. As always, she did her magic and I am now pain free. These people are the best!

Also among the best is the Aubert family with whom I am staying. They are letting me stay in a huge room where I am very comfortable. They are increasingly feeling like family. I am free to come and go as I please, there never is any pressure to stay or to go. I am welcome at the family table whenever. I am invited to go out with them, or to stay when they have guests. In addition to generous and healthy meals, they provide counseling and moral support. I am also getting to know them better. I am contributing when and where I can. Several times I acted as a patient for daughter Carole's practice for her finals for medical school. I spent a morning translating cases from her English book so that non-English speaking friends could also be mock patients. It is a pleasure to observe how well father and daughter are working together - first Jacques, the father, with his own GP practice helping her with the exercises for her finals, and now the daughter, who tomorrow night after the last exam will be legally allowed to practice medicine, helping Dad in his office while he is hobbling around on crutches after breaking a leg in a biking accident...

Unfortunately I still can't post pictures to this blog, since I cannot download them from my camera onto someone else's computer. Perhaps I'll retroactively add some pics to the posts once I am in New York. I can already see that my stay in New York will be way too short. I can't wait to be sailing past the Statue of Liberty on my majestic ocean liner, and to be greeted by Eric at the harbor!

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, and since there won't be any pictures for now, I am condemned to write. The weather has been mostly good since my last post and there have been many pleasant hours in beautiful areas in great company: Eliane took me swimming in Lake Neuchatel of which the temperature had risen to 23 C (73 F). When I was a kid we were not allowed to swim in the lake because it was too polluted. Swimming pools had been built here and there on the shore. They are now all gone, because the water, thanks to sewage treatment plants, is once more clear and absolutely safe.

Anne-Marie took me on another great hike, near Interlaken. We gained most of the elevation with a cable car, and before starting off, enjoyed a coffee in the garden of one of these mountain restaurants, with views over to the Bernese Alps, Interlaken, the lakes of Thun and Brienz... all just like on the postcard. I traveled to Basel, where I had not been since I was 16 years old. There I visited friend Denise with whom I had worked in the early 70s in Geneva. We had taken several trips together, Spain, Algeria, Greece... and now had 35 years worth of catching up to do. She showed me the old part of Basel, a very beautiful city, but we spent most of our precious time together on her deck, chatting. It is so rewarding to reconnect with friends when they have had a good life, and are well and happy. Basel is a very rich city, where several Swiss pharmaceutical companies have their headquarters, and as a consequence has a number of famous museums... none of which I had the time to visit.

Periodically I am seeing my sisters, one, or the other, or both, here in Le Landeron, or in the mountains. It is always fun and warm and I will miss them terribly when our ways will part once again. Brigitte and I finally managed to go on a good hike together, catching a nice day. There have been a number of spectacularly violent thunder storms, with dramatic drops in temperatures and fresh snow almost down to the tree line. I experienced one of these storms in the tiny chalet of friend Pierre, above Neuchatel. Thank God for stringent construction codes. Sheets of rain were blown across the porch, lightning crisscrossing the sky turned dark way before nightfall. An impressive show. The storms have ushered in fall. The forest has started to turn, the yellow jackets are out in droves. The light has a new softness - which I enjoyed all day Saturday hiking with Pierre along the Doubs, the river marking the border north of Neuchatel between Switzerland and France. Numerous herons, swans, king fishers, a peregrine falcon, fish jumping. This is the Jura, less dramatic than the Alps, but dearly loved and appreciated by us, the locals. Pasture land cut into sections by stone walls, dotted with the characteristic huge hemlocks.

Next picture: a trip to the Geneva area, a lovely day with Paul, taking the boat over to the medieval city of Yvoire on the French side, and saying goodbye. Our paths had crossed once again after meeting in Canada 35 years ago, and now life is again taking us back to our respective countries, he to Canada, I to the US. We were at opposite ends of the country and didn't see each other often, but during the difficult months when I as slaving away at the bakery, he was a skype lifeline.

Last but not least, yesterday, a rainy day with Christiane and Gilbert. Picnic on a bench a mere 5 minutes from the car just before it started to pour for good, and then the afternoon in the museum Latenium, which didn't exist when I was a kid. During the construction of the freeway they found innumerable artifacts from life along the lake dating back several thousands of years. Christiane, a retired teacher, did a great guiding job, picking out the key information, explaining...

Almost 40 years ago I left Neuchatel in search of new horizons, finding Neuchatel boring, attracted by exotic landscapes and cultures. I have never spent as much time in the Neuchatel area since I was 19, and now I am discovering that this actually is not only a very beautiful area, but also very rich in history, culture, arts, as well as in smart, educated, interesting and dedicated people helping the region flourish. I could have found right here what I went searching all over the world.

Complications

I have now been without a computer for over two weeks - hence still no pictures. I am slowly weaning myself from the internet, but it's hard to be disconnected at a time when I am rather fragile and could benefit from interactions with my friends- though the friends I do have the privilege of spending time with are going beyond the call of duty and helping me immensely with logistics, feeding me, counseling me, organizing relaxing activities. Since I am still having to rely on my friends' computers, I am definitely trying to minimize my online time, and monopolizing a computer long enough to write a page for this blog is a rare treat. Mostly I have a quick look at my email to make sure that no catastrophy has truck, and revert back to real life and real friends. I hope to bring my laptop to a IT man on Wednesday and with luck I'll be back online on a regular basis by the end of the week

It's already more than 2 weeks since Zuoz became history. After a few difficult and lonely days in the Neuchatel area I took off to the Valais, the Alps in the western part of Switzerland. Jacqueline (whom I met at the lab technician school in 1971) and her husband Andre welcomed me at their chalet in Lens, below Cran-Montana. Jacqueline prefers reading to hiking and therefore I alternated quiet times with her at the chalet with hikes with Andre between raindrops. The mediocre summer weather has not improved and it's a rare day when one can set out for a hike at high elevation with a certain degree of confidence with respect to the weather. The days in Lens were an opportunity to recenter myself and recover from the sadness of the loss of Zuoz. I didn't have to think, as Andre was mapping out the hikes and planning the menu. They took care of me, surrounding me with their support, good food and sense of humor.

With the end of Zuoz I lost my ability to plan. I am living one day at the time, and as a result I didn't even know for how long I would be gone from Neuchatel, or where exactly I would go from Lens. I was very pleased when an opportunity opened up to spend a few days with my sister Brigitte at her chalet near Villars. I was looking forward to go on a few good hikes with her and to spend quality time with her that did not involve packing up an apartment. We did have a few very relaxing days but the hikes were replaced with short walks - again because of the generally miserable weather. When we were at the end of our wits, Brigitte suggested an expedition down to the valley, to the shopping mall, to help me select a choice of clothes appropriate for the Queen Mary 2! Brigitte has great taste and a keen eye in the overwhelming selection of the shops. Since I have basically bought nothing since losing my job, I decided it was ok to splurge a bit. The summer sales are still on, so I am pleased with the end result. The spree was especially rewarding because here I actually can find clothes in the Ladies department, rather than in the kids section, like in the US.

We were driving back up the mountain, tired but pleased when the phone call came - signaling the end of my recovery time: my aunt, 93 years old had to be hospitalized.

She has no other relatives than me and my sisters, and my Australian sister and I are the closest to her. She is surrounded by a team of dedicated and reliable friends, which leads to a very confusing situation. This morning I called her rental agency to discuss the August payment, and found out that 2 of her friends had already called. My aunt doesn't have dementia, and therefore needs to make her own decisions, but because she is so weak she is having difficulties tracking things, which adds to the confusion. I visited her yesterday and the good news is that she is recovering and gaining strength. It is unlikely, however, that she will be able to return home - nor does she want to. She hopes to move into a retirement home and now the question is whether she will be able to regain enough strength to avoid the nursing home. Either way, it looks like we will clean out a 2nd apartment before I move back to the US! I was hoping to spend these last weeks in Europe visiting friends, socializing and hiking. At one point I was even planning a week long trek somewhere... but I had a premonition: I just couldn't make up my mind, couldn't decide, and in the end dropped the idea. Now I am so glad I have no set plans - other than board the ship to New York on September 20. Of course, I have taken out insurance for that trip!

Going forward I will travel to St. Gallen to see my aunt at least once a week. I pray that there will be some resolution before I have to leave. I would hate having to return to Switzerland soon after I arrive back in the US and as I am trying to rebuild my life there. But I will have no choice.

Meanwhile I am now staying with friends Anne-Marie (also from the lab technician school) and her husband Yvan. Anne-Marie is planning the meals and organizing R&R, which frees me to deal with my aunt's needs. Yesterday, after seeing her in the hospital I went to her apartment, retrieved her mail and spent most of this morning sifting through the bills, making calls to businesses and agencies about the new situation, etc.

Tomorrow Anne-Marie and I will go on a big hike in the Bernese Alps. Wednesday I move back to Le Landeron, Friday it's another trip to St. Gallen (3 hours by train, each way). Hopefully I'll soon have a working computer and can add pictures to this post. Indeed, despite the difficulties, there also are good times and they should not get lost amid the difficulties.

Thank you, Jacqueline and Andre, Brigitte, Francoise, Marlyse and Jacques, Anne-Marie and Yvan.

Stranded

July 31, 2011

Whatever the official posting date will show, this is when I wrote the text below, on paper with pencil because my computer no longer works. I don't know whether I got a virus, or whether the internet at my friends' doesn't work, or whether it's a combination of both - all I know is that I have my whole life on the computer, my July bank statement, the new life insurance policy that I didn't dare to look at before, my cookbook, and none is accessible. When you'll see this post I'll probably have borrowed a computer somewhere else, because all the computers in this house seem to have the same problem.

I am staying at the house of Marlyse and Jacques, in Le Landeron, near Neuchatel. Except that they are away on vacation. I am sharing the house with daughter Carole who is cramming for her finals for Med School, and son Gauthier who just returned from the US - together we are having fun chatting about New York City. The house of my sister Francoise's in-laws (one passed away in June, the other is in a nursing home) is just a 2 minutes walk from here, but this morning she and her husband drove up to their chalet with a first load of furniture from Zuoz. It's the First of August (Swiss Independence Day) long weekend, but I am not in the mood to celebrate anything. Everybody is gone or busy with family, and after 10 days with my sisters, I am once again alone - terribly so. I know I would feel much better if my computer worked and I could watch a movie, or play with my pictures, or, heaven forbid, balance my check book.

Of course, much has happened since I wrote the last post. The good news is that I found my passport - in the drawer next to where it should have been, under some papers. What a relief - and now I have to worry much less whether the government shuts down or not. The bad news is that there definitely isn't a job for me here in Switzerland. I am therefore on track to get on the boat (literally) on September 20 and to arrive in Portland on September 30. I'll get possession of my house on October 1. I am already in touch with a contractor about fixing up the house and I hope to be settled in by Christmas.

I won't dwell on the departure from Zuoz - because I can't. When the numbness subsides the sadness and the pain are unbearable. I can't write about it because I cry too much to see. Moving day was even worse than anticipated because of a dream I had about my parents during my last night there. Dad and I were hugging each other, he was crying too, because we both knew through what difficulties we were going to have to go together, to start with Mom's death. I still feel his arms around me. The sense if loss brought by the cleaning out of the apartment and the departure from Zuoz is bottomless. By tearing my Dad's place apart, I feel that I have violated him, everything he loved and stood for.

Believe me, I am trying. Trying to be grateful for all I had, my Dad for so many years, for the many hikes with him around Zuoz, for these last 18 months in his cozy apartment, for my sisters with whom I can still share all these memories, for the friends who have invited me to stay with them over the coming weeks. I am trying to look forward rather than dwell on the past.

So, here I am, in a village near Neuchatel. I love this area, between two lakes, nestled against vineyards, at the foot of the Jura mountains. To the south it's flat and this afternoon I took a long (for my standards) bike ride to the Peninsula (Ile St. Pierre) on which 18th century write and philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau lived for a while. There too, memories of outing as a family, and now, me alone, biking with a hole in my heart. For the first time I am feeling like an outsider, I don't belong anywhere.

At least I am enjoying the sunny and warm weather down here in the lowlands. In Zuoz the weather remained cloudy, rainy, cold - to the end. My sisters and I were planning to take a day off from packing and go on a hike - it never happened because the weather just wouldn't cooperate. One afternoon we went for a walk in the St. Moritz area. We never warmed up, despite parkas on top of fleece jackets.

I do need to mention the farewell party I treated myself to. My Zuoz colleague from the bakery and 11 ladies from the gym came, all with their good energy and sense of humor. My sisters helped to carry home the many bottles and the goodies, and did a great job preparing and hosting. The evening left me with warm feelings and invitations to use guest rooms.

It's hard to really understand and accept that there is nothing left in Zuoz to go back to, that the 46 years of family history intertwined with Zuoz are irrevocably over.

(No pictures for this post, since I can't get them onto the internet from my computer - maybe later).