Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all – and to myself too! I was dreading spending Christmas alone – so far none of the good people of Zuoz or St. Moritz has thought of inviting me, though they all know that I am on my own. Turns out I will have company: I found out that my friend Paul booked his flight back to Canada for December 26 because his family celebrates according to the Russian calendar. So he too would spend the 25^th moping around alone – and I invited him to come up to Zuoz – and he accepted the invitation despite the very limited time we will have together since I’ll be working until 7pm on the 24^th and he has to leave in the afternoon of the 25^th to catch his flight on the next morning. It doesn’t matter. The perspective of having a guest motivated me to decorate, and not having seen anybody except locals since the end of October, I am very much looking forward to seeing a friend.

I am in high spirits tonight, as I just had two days off in a row. Yesterday, while listening to the whole Messiah I spent 2 hours decorating my living room with ornaments found in the apartment and the greenery collected in the woods before the snow covered it all. The apartment looks quite festive now. I had planned to go cross-country skiing in the afternoon, but while I was eating lunch I heard a fire truck come up the road towards the village, followed by an ambulance a couple minutes later. Then another fire truck... I was starting to feel some anxiety - since spending September 11, 2001 in New York I have a very low tolerance level for multiple emergency vehicles. Eventually 9 fire trucks drove up the road and I knew that something major was happening. So, instead of going skiing, I walked up to the village. The barn of the house next to the one we used to stay in was on fire. The narrow roads made for difficult access and the fire trucks were positioned in the streets all around the barn - each trying to reach all the way to the fire. I couldn't see any flames - just smoke coming through the roof. A few firemen were on the precariously slanted roof, shoveling snow, and then cutting a hole into it. I watched (and photographed) the action until I was really cold and went home, looking forward to warm up with a hot cup of tea.

I got home ok but never got the tea, for as soon as I got home the power went out - and stayed out for a good 3 hours, or until past 6pm. Since it was -25 C last night, the apartment started to cool down quite quickly, and at 5pm it also started to be really dark. In Portland I am well equipped for our frequent power failures. Here they never happen, and I was unprepared - except for the many candles I had displayed all over the house with my Christmas decorations! Dinner was a salad with a glass of milk - it was an early dinner because I anticipated a long, cold and boring evening and therefore an opportunity to catch up on my sleep. Thank God the power returned just as I was getting really desperate for a cup of coffee. The cause of the failure: a private jet crashed on a transformer station near the airport, resulting in a black-out in the whole valley. Not even the train was circulating and I felt really lucky to be safely at home rather than in transit in the cold.

Thankfully today was eventless. It was less cold than last week, with a perfectly blue sky and the low sun giving all the warmth it could, and I went downhill skiing, right here in Zuoz. I found out that the chairlift was closed only when I got there, so I spent my time on the bunny slope, having a blast in the fresh air and the sun.

I went out one more time in the late afternoon, to an Advent Window: during all of December, every night a family hosts a gathering open to all, to mingle and celebrate. Unfortunately these open houses take place between 5-7pm and therefore I cannot attend when I work. Today's was hosted by the public library. I had never gone up to the center of the village with all the holiday lights and the tree lit up. The open house itself was a flop - I was the only one there and the librarian was busy being a librarian, so I didn't stay. Still it was worth the trip, since I then walked home with the almost full moon painting the snowy landscape in silver.

St. Moritz holiday lights and Palace Hotel tree.

My decorations. On the right, the figurines of my father's nativity. The structure that's supposed to house the figurines, a barn built my Dad himself when he was young, is in Portland!

Fire in Zuoz.

Zuoz Christmas lights.

St. Gallen

Tonight I got home as late as if I had returned from work - except that I am returning from a visit to my aunt in St. Gallen. She is now pretty much home-bound: there's much snow all over Switzerland and being almost blind and very frail, she doesn't dare go out, and I don't blame her. My visits with her are becoming more and more relaxed and rewarding. We have a comfortable routine that stresses neither one of us. I brought her a tin of Christmas cookies, 3 of her own recipes which I baked over my last 3 days off. It was worth it. When she opened the tin her face lit up and although it was just about dinner time, she had to taste one immediately. I ran errands for her and cooked a nice meal for her and her friend, which, as always, they ate with much gusto. Last night was spent programming her new phone and teaching her to use it: hers has died that very morning and a friend got her a new one! At 93 she practiced and learned to use it!

While I was busy baking my cookies, my kids were busy carrying forward the holiday traditions. Eric and girlfriend Pam baked St. Nicolas bread men, and Claire called me one night from San Francisco, asking for advice on runny icing! She now is the 4th generation using my grand-mother's recipes.

As if dealing with American health insurance were not enough, I am now having trouble with my Swiss one. Anticipating a move away from Zuoz in the summer, I called my insurance (6 months ahead of time) to inquire about the formalities with respect to such a move. I was told that my premiums would rise substantially if I took residence in the western part of Switzerland. So I inquired about quitting and contracting with another insurance with rates more favorable to that part of the country. The employee explained that if I had a Fr. 300 deductible I could cancel my contract at the end of June, but with my Fr. 2,500 deductible I couldn't until the end of 2011. Her advice was not to move before the end of the year! I then suggested I change my plan to the lower deductible. Her response: you just missed the deadline for changing plans by a few days. Now I was really taken aback, since I had not received any letter informing me of such a window. The employee said that indeed they don't mail anything out, since everybody knows that changes to insurance have to be made by November 30. I pointed out that I had just returned to the country after 33 years abroad - how was I supposed to know? She kindly gave me the address of the insurance's board of directors, so I could send them a letter! Wish me luck!

This week I start work every day at 7am - which means either catching the 6:24 am train, or sleeping in St. Moritz. I then work either until 5 pm (getting home at 6:30 pm), or until 7 pm - getting home at 8:30 pm if I have to take the train. This is not a sustainable pace, and I have now gotten to the point where I no longer have either the time or the energy to respond to emails. But please, keep on sending messages - I definitely do read them!

Between the extreme cold and the dryness of the air, I now constantly have cracks at the tips of my fingers. It makes writing and typing painful, and I have much difficulty getting the change out of the cash register. Yes... the cash register... You know how when the roll of paper for the receipts almost runs out, it is marked with red streaks? I always presumed that it was as a warning to the cash operator to insert a new roll of paper. We are not allowed to do so until the paper is completely out. That means that instead of doing it when there's a lull between clients, we have to do it while ringing up a client's purchases, with more clients impatiently waiting for their turn. The reason: changing the paper before the roll is empty is a waste of money!

Off for 2 days of work, followed by 2 days off - before the big holiday rush - 20 days of work with only one day, December 25th, off.


2010 Christmas cookies.















This picture is for my sisters and my kids: the little square near my aunt's house.














The majestic St. Gallen baroque cathedral. This is where I attended mass as a child when visiting my grand-mother.













Old town of St. Gallen, with snow and Christmas decorations.

Escaping

I am going to stick with it through the Christmas season, but I'll ask to have my schedule reduced to 80% starting January 9 - or I'll hand in my resignation effective January 31. I cannot go on like this. I don't know how others do it, but I just can't.

The store is now very busy. There's no longer time to either check the time or go to the bathroom. I am entirely focused on serving, promptly, efficiently, smilingly, and the hours fly by, and all of a sudden it's 7pm and I realize that I am totally wasted. I have now done 5 days in a row at this pace. I have today off, and then I am on for another 5 days. When I finally get home I am too tired to even respond to email - and I apologize to all of you who are waiting to get a personal message. I find myself gulping down my food because the breaks are not long enough to eat and go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and refill my water bottle. Even during my long break I now feel stressed. When I am out on a walk I am constantly checking my watch to make sure I am back in the store on time. Today, on my day off, I have been unable to relax, eating too quickly and feeling my heart race. All this can't be good.

My back is better but not good. I ought to go to a chiropractor - no time. I did return to yoga and it helps. I am trying to practice controlled breathing while waiting for clients to make up their mind and while riding the elevator, but it's not quite enough to achieve a zen state. The mood in the store has gotten worse. Obviously I am not the only one to be stressed and tired, and there are all kinds on tensions, misunderstandings, infringements on each other's territories... I am still managing to remain above all of it, but for how much longer?

I feel that the job is literally dispiriting, in the sense that it's robbing me of my spirit. The stress, the tiredness, but also many other petty ways. The uniforms, for example: most of us new employees wear shirts several sizes too big. The shirts of the women who have been there for a long time are worn to the point of being full of holes. A detail, but added to all the other aggravations, it matters. There is the issue of the pens. The business doesn't provide pens. We each have to provide our own, meaning they are preciously guarded and hidden, and retrieved with much effort when needed - which is often. Wouldn't it be so much simpler to have cheap pens lying around a little everywhere, so they are not an additional issue?

If I were the manager I'd call every morning at 8am a short staff meeting. I'd recap the previous day, explain the new pastries and chocolates which are now on the shelf, give advice on how to best gift wrap them, and wish us all a good day. I thought about it on the day when all of a sudden clients brought these big stars to the counter - which I had never seen (it's now too busy to have the time to check what new items might be offered for sale on a daily basis). I had no idea how to wrap them, called an experienced colleague who started packing them up, until the boss arrived and made her unpack them because he has a better idea. Meanwhile the clients were shaking their heads and waiting...

I spent Monday night in St. Moritz. When I plugged in my computer I blew a fuse and spent the rest of the evening in the dark since I couldn't find the fuse box. Fortunately my room faces City Hall with their outrageous display of Christmas lights, which light up my whole room as well as the square below. Since I didn't have anything else to do but think, I started worrying about possible escape routes in case of a fire and came to the conclusion that if there's a fire I am toast - literally. I am on the 4th floor of an old building of which the inside is all wood. There are no fire escapes, no fire breaks, and only one door to the outside, which is locked at all times. I can visualize myself going down 4 floors in the dark and the smoke, and then finding the correct key in my key ring, as well as the key hole, and letting myself out... Seeing all the holes in the walls, pipes and faucets leaking, I can only imagine the state of the wiring. Add to this that most employees smoke. I ended up not sleeping much that night - all the more since the snowplows went into action at 5am and worked on the square until it was time to get up at 7am...

On the positive side: I am trying to get into the Christmas spirit and have been baking Christmas cookies in my spare time (!). I want to bring a tin full to my aunt when I go see her next week. Since I got the recipes from her, who got them from her mother, it's all very appropriate. I have decorated my living room a bit, and yesterday I bought an ornament at the St. Moritz Christmas market - except that when I unpacked it I found the "Made in China" label... Meanwhile I get much joy from observing from afar how my kids are perpetrating the Christmas traditions: Eric called me to ask for the Czech Christmas bread recipe, so he could bake it for his grand-father while on a Thanksgiving visit. Claire is busy baking her cookies - I gave her my mother's cutters. Eric mailed me a St. Nicolas package - which really touched me.


On a walk near Zuoz. I decided it was too cold to go downhill skiing and the cross-country tracks were not yet prepared.













Lake St. Moritz freezing up.
















The St. Nicolas bread man (Benz) sold in the Swiss bakeries on December 6th. My kids will agree with me that those we baked as a family were prettier and more interesting - and I must add, also better.

















Schoggispitzbuben - one of the family Christmas cookie recipes.

City Race

Thank you all for your messages, for your insights, for your advice. Is it because of all this support, or because after one month I am to some degree getting used to my new life, or perhaps just because a weekend off finally allowed me to regroup? Either way, I am doing better.

The trial period ended on November 30, and now I have to give 30 days notice if I want to quit. I have applied for a couple of other jobs, one as a receptionist in a dentist's office (no experience necessary), and one as a hiking guide for the Ski School (retired folks welcome). The first question I got when I called the dental office was my name, the second my age. They didn't seem interested in hearing anything else. I have not gotten the promised calls back from either entity, and so, once again, to some degree, I am feeling lucky to have at least this miserable bakery job.

The other day I had the worst schedule ever: from 8am to 9:30, then a break until 11:00am at which time I had to go for lunch, and then work from 11:30am to 7:00pm with one 15 minutes break! Meanwhile I got the schedule for the days off in December - finally on November 29! I don't know how employees with family and other obligations are managing! It's impossible to plan anything. The weekly schedule only gets posted on the prior weekend - so again, it's impossible to make any kind of commitment for the long breaks. Ironically I am feeling proud for having made the cut through the trial period - the colleague who started on the same day as I, didn't!

The store has large windows through which we get to observe what's happening on the street. It's closed to traffic, and, of course, on a slope. When it snows there's much snow removal activity, as the city is trying to do a good job to keep the street snow free to prevent the build-up of ice. They go at it with huge snowplows and backhoes - I am always worried about one of them crashing through the windows. Last weekend the City Race took place. Our street was turned into a ski run. So, instead of them removing snow, they brought it back onto the clean street, truck load after truck load, until there were a good 2 feet. A small walkway was carved away on one side, protective fences and mats were positioned all along the run, markings were painted onto the snow, a starting ramp was erected and slalom gates set up! Starting at 5pm on Friday, music was blearring and an impressive crowd turned up despite the bitter cold. It's true that November has been so dead in St. Moritz that people were desperate for an opportunity to party! Since the bakery was losing much business because it was just about inaccessible, it set up a booth on the square. Thank God I didn't have to staff it! Fortunately there was no fire at Hanselmann's during that time, because no fire truck would have been able to reach it! All this for a ski run of 100 meters!

Talking about skiing. On my day off last week I went downhill skiing, to a different area, Marguns, above the town of Celerina. I skied only for about one hour, but since we were barely 10 people in total on the run, it was intense skiing, - and enough for my knee. I was pleased to notice that I am becoming more confident, more aggressive, though I limited myself to intermediate runs. I headed home when the light got flat and the cold more biting.

We have had deep winter weather over the last few days. Either it snows, or it's bitter cold. Today's snowing would have been described as a blizzard in the US - here we just say that it's snowing! It doesn't let up, and even the highway remains white. So there definitely wasn't going to be any skiing today - which turns out to be good, because last week my back went out, and it still is not quite back to normal. This week I am limiting my exercising to walking and back stretches! It's the classic case: since starting work one month ago I had stopped doing my back exercising routine because at night I was too tired - and promptly paid the price!

The sale of the apartment is likely be further delayed, as it's unlikely that my sisters and I will find a time to clean it out together before July. Physically and mentally it would be too hard for me to do it on my own. So it looks like in the spring I'll recover from my job, travel to Portland for a visit (I can already tell that I'll need more dental work!) and return to close this chapter of my life. I have pretty much decided to stay at a minimum until early fall. In July I'll have to decide whether to rerent my Portland house or to keep it available for myself. In the summer I'll also look for a job, either here or back in the US.

My aunt told me that she has decided to move into a nursing home as soon as a room becomes available. This represents another unknown in my life. She is relying on me to help her move and clean out her apartment. I can't do this while staying at the job. The call could come tomorrow or in 6 months... I'll somehow deal with it when it comes, but I can't deal with it for now!



Building the ski run - in front of the bakery.















The ramp from which the races started - from the window of my room in St. Moritz.














Recovering in the sun on my weekend off. Near San Gian.














Getting into the holiday spirit.

Identity Crisis

There once was a woman who had it all: a cute little house in beautiful Portland, Oregon, an interesting job, two adult children whom she saw several times a year, a garden to tend, fresh produce galore, a soothing yoga studio, a challenging Italian book club, many friends with whom to hike, camp, visit, laugh and enough spare time to enjoy all of the above.

Now I feel like just the shell of my former self, stuffed with memories and a deep sense of loss. My new job is taking up all my waking hours and all my energy. When I finally get home in the evening, after a simple dinner I barely have time to respond to the most urgent emails before collapsing. I am feeling bloated from eating bad food. We are required to purchase the bakery's lunch. There is no choice as to the menu. Napkins are obviously too expensive to waste on staff. Afternoon snack consists of bread (plain, no grain nor whole wheat which also probably are too expensive to waste on staff), butter, jam, and lukewarm tea - daily. I have started to supplement with fruit and yogurt but still feel like I am eating too much bread and generally not well enough. I miss cooking my own food, I miss sharing it with friends and family.

I live in a beautiful area in the heart of the Alps but I get only short glimpses of the mountains, mostly when it's dark. They then feel like protective friends waiting for me and I yearn for them.

What ever constituted the frame of my life and whatever allowed me to define my personality is gone. I no longer have time to go to the ladies' evening gym, I don't have time to watch my customary Sunday night movie on Netflix, I no longer have time to follow the environmental news. I definitely don't have time to travel to the lowlands to see friends, or to entertain guests. The feeling of social isolation is aggravated by the looming holidays. I never got much into the commercial aspect of Christmas - for me it's about cocooning in the decorated and lit-up house, playing Christmas music and baking up a storm. It's about kids coming home and cozy times with friends and family.

So, who is Irene? The former webfoot, the happy mountain goat or the exhausted bakery girl? Whichever, I am still wondering whether I should stick with this job or quit. I am tempted to reclaim my life and myself in the process, but at the same time I am afraid I would feel like a quitter. How did Sarah Palin do it, to quit the job as governor of Alaska without feeling bad about it? Oh... to have her gall... If I quit I'd feel like I'd let down my colleagues who have patiently been training me in the subtleties of packaging up delicate pastries (see below). I would also preclude myself from getting another job in Switzerland, since my current employer would not issue the precious work certificate. Meanwhile my time for quitting is running out, since starting on Dec. 1 I'll have to give one month notice.

To my family and friends in the US: best wishes for a warm and cozy Thanksgiving. I'll be with you in my thoughts!

View from my bedroom in Zuoz.















Heaps of snow at the Zuoz train station.















My aunt and my father were born in the little house. My aunt lived in it until her late 60's at which time she then moved into the larger house - directly next door. She still lives there, by herself, at 93.











The pastry makers at the bakery create veritable works of art. This is a chocolate eclair morphed into a swan. Nobody bought this poor little guy so I felt sorry for him and took him home to give him a dignified end.

Nothing but Work

I didn't do very well in my resolve to make the best of my days off. My cold forced me to spend last week's days off resting. I have the next two days off, but I am hoping to travel to St. Gallen to cook for my aunt. They won't be relaxing days, but I want to do it for her.

So, since I didn't do anything write-worthy on my days off, this post will be all about work. Pretty soon, I am afraid, I won't have anything left to write about because I suspect that work stories will get boring rather quickly.

This job has definitely propelled me into another world. It consists of the bosses, two brothers, who come to the bakery almost every day. There's the "glider" (see last week's post), and his brother who will actually help out in the store when necessary. The other day he took an hour to teach me about the different chocolates. He was impressed by how much I had remembered from his previous lecture and I am hoping that he will teach me some more. Meanwhile I have learned that the business belongs to 4 siblings. As far as I understand they don't get along and the two working in the store have pretty much their hands tied by the other two. Meaning they are unhappy and therefore they are unable to care about the happiness of the staff.

The staff is multi-national. In the store we are only 2 Swiss. One, a very hard worker, is Portuguese, and 2 are German. They both are challenging, one because she doesn't like to be given advice despite the fact that she is prone to mistakes, the other because she is a loud motor mouth. Business is very slow this month (good for learning!) so there are many downtimes with nothing to do. We are not allowed to eat or drink on the job (I am losing weight since I cannot snack every two hours!), nor to read the paper or do anything else, meaning that when there are no clients there is nothing else to do but talk with each other. And often I'd just rather stand there in silence than have to listen to that talking! The Swiss woman is great, but this job definitely has catapulted me down from my rarified air into a mercyless tough world. One of the German women, whom I'll call Hilde, has filed 3 times for divorce but still spends most of her time off with her husband. She has taken a room at Hanselmann's, but lets him visit her there when she doesn't go home. She wants a divorce because he keeps on having lovers. Hilde threw one lover into a creek in the winter and the poor woman got pneumonia. Hilde also told Interpol some kind of story that led them to stop another lover at the German border and sequester her car, although Hilde knew that the lover was innocent. The car was returned, but only 6 weeks later. There is an unending supply of similarly hairy stories. I am not sure which to believe, but if they are not true, I give Hilde credit for a great imagination.

Hanselmann's is a mini United Nations - although we are not united at all. The Germans hate the Portuguese, calling them Portos, forgetting that they are foreigners as well. The Portuguese do the most dirty work. I am not sure whether they fight a lot amongst themselves, or if loud voices is just a normal way of communicating. Sometimes the screams come all the way down to the store through the food elevator. The waitresses are from Sud-Tirol, the part of Italy near the Swiss border, where they speak German. The cook and one of the bakers are Italian and Italian is the common language throughout the business. Except that the Germans don't understand a word of it.

On my first day I was given the job of answering the phone on the 3rd ring. Neither the Germans nor the Portuguese understand Swiss German, meaning that when the other Swiss woman is not there, I am the only one who can deal with whatever language the caller speaks. My high German (as opposed to Swiss German) has improved a lot over the last 2 weeks, as it's the common language among the women in the store. This means that I am constantly switching back and forth between high German, Swiss German and Italian, with sprinklings of French and English! Giving change in any language other than French still is challenging, especially at the end of the day when I'm getting tired.

Talking about being tired... It's time for me to go to bed, and this post is long enough for today. That means that I'll have more stories next week. I do want to end on a positive note: last night I stayed in St. Moritz because I went to a yoga class. It's very expensive (the equivalent of some $30!) and of course it was not as good that my Portland yoga class, but it was better than nothing, and today I have sore muscles, meaning I really needed it. I am therefore planning to go back when I can. After all I have to treat myself to something, otherwise the winter will be long and unbearable.

My mother died today, November 16, exactly 40 years ago. She was taken to the hospital on my birthday, two days earlier. Ever since, her death and my birthday have been inextricably linked. Rather than complaining about getting old, I am grateful for the gift of life and I am trying to age gracefully.

Taking a walk along lake St. Moritz during my break.













Fresh snow in Zuoz.














Another lunch break walk.















The town of St. Moritz. The store is next to the church.

Courageous or stupid?

Could it be possible that working is not good for your health? I have been on the job for just one week, and I have already caught a cold - the first one since moving to Switzerland, so indeed the conclusion is obvious!

Yes, I started work last Monday, November 1. I can't decide whether I am courageous or stupid to stick with it. It is quite the job from hell. The only redeeming factor is the colleagues, all extremely nice. So far most of my workdays have been from 8am to 7pm, five days a week, for a total of 45 hours per week. When I was offered the job, I called the bakers' guild and was told that the legal working week is 42 hours. Before signing the contract I asked the owner of the bakery about the 45 hours week - and he explained that the business was structured like that. Period. End of conversation. Take it or leave it.

The 9 daily hours of work are not consecutive. If I start at 8am, I work until 11:30 - no break. At that time I eat lunch. It's provided by the bakery (which also is a restaurant). It's not optional, and its cost is deducted from our salary. There is no choice, definitely not cafeteria style: you eat the dish that's waiting for you on the table. Fortunately I am not a picky eater and the food is rather good. A lot of meat thought, and although I am not a big meat eater, I do eat it, figuring I need the protein to make it through the afternoon. After lunch I have a long break, until 1:30pm. I have rented a room in the bakery's building and that's where I spend part of the break, putting my feet up, away from people, enjoying a cup of coffee. I have to buy the coffee at the restaurant, because there isn't anywhere in the whole house (5 floors) where the employees can help themselves to a hot beverage, or make one. I then make a point of going for a walk - after all this is St. Moritz, and there are many great options to catch some fresh air and get a bit of exercise.

I am back on the job at 1:30pm and work until 7pm with one 15' break. In the store there is no place to sit - meaning I am on my feet during all this time. There's a twist to the above schedule: the work day actually starts at 7:55am but finishes at 7pm - meaning that we actually work another 25 minutes per week without additional pay.

The business is owned by two brothers. One has a small office next to the store. He keeps a very sharp eye on the store, making sure that all the many rules and best practices are rigorously observed. When we are understaffed he helps out and therefore has a good sense of life in the store. The other brother is responsible for the business side of the enterprise. His office is basically inaccessible, at the back of the hall on the third floor. Once in a while he glides through the store. He takes no notice of us. We must be invisible for he never talks to us, other than remark when there are mistakes with the cash register. No hello, no how are you doing, no small talk of any kind, no thank you - great job. It blows my mind. If I were the owner of a business like this I'd want to know my employees, I'd want to take an interest in them, I'd want to make sure that we are a well functioning team, I'd want to motivate them to do their best. He depends on us to make money, but he doesn't seem to see us as an important component of his establishment.

There's so much to tell about my new life that it can't possibly fit into one post that my friends would read to the end. So I'll leave it at this for now. Next week I'll write about our uniforms, about my colleagues, about how I was assigned to pick up the phone, and about the clients.

All this being said, I did have 2 days off last week, and fortunately the weather was gorgeous and very mild. On the first day I just went for a walk in the afternoon after having done my chores in the morning. On the 2nd day, however, I went downhill skiing to the only area that's open. You take a sky tram up to 9,000 feet and then you ski up there using one relatively short chair lift. Not very exciting per se, but the scenery was stunning, it was very mild, not a cloud in the sky, perfect powder and no people. It couldn't have been any better. Since I bought the season's pass, I didn't feel bad about quitting after just 90 minutes of skiing. There was only one run, which I did some 6-7 times, gaining some more confidence each time. Then my bad knee started complaining, and besides, the one lonely run was getting boring. Although short, this day definitely lifted my spirits. I am determined to push myself to do fun activities on my days off, despite my exhaustion!

Pictures:

1. A new sight: Irene at work.
2. My lovely room in St. Moritz. The living conditions at the lodge in South Africa were better.
3. Walking along Lake St. Moritz last week.
4. Walking along Lake St. Moritz today (we got over a foot of snow in the last 24 hours).
5. Downhill skiing at Diavolezza. Note the spray of powder behind the skiers.

The End of Unemployment

After all the socializing in Oregon and then in Switzerland, for the first time since my arrival I am feeling... bored? lonely? drifting? Or are these feelings a way to prepare myself to begin my new job tomorrow after 18 months of idleness? From tomorrow on at 6am, I will be caught in a whirlwind where there won't be any time for loneliness, boredom or drifting. Tomorrow I am starting my job at the Hanselmann bakery in St. Moritz (http://www.hanselmann.ch/), full time, for the duration of the winter season. That's 45 hours per week, with a horrendous schedule which I finally got at the end of last week - although I have the hours only for this coming week. I can't even begin to imagine how people who have lives, kids, partners, other commitments, can deal with such uncertainty. It doesn't matter much to me, now that I am reassured that once in a while I'll have 2 days off in a row, which will allow me to go see my aunt, and be sociable once in a while.

So this coming week I am working Monday and Tuesday, with Wednesday and Thursday off. This is great, because it will allow me to catch my breath after the initial newness of it all, and make necessary adjustments. This week I am working 8am to 7pm, with a 2 hour break in the middle of the day. I have rented a room in St. Moritz, first because the horrible train schedule will make it very difficult to get home every night. It's not far, only 30' with two trains, but the trains arrive precisely at the time I am supposed to start at the bakery and leave precisely at the time I finish work - meaning I will constantly be in town almost a full hour before starting work and constantly be ready to catch the train almost one hour before the next one. The room will also provide a place to rest and spend the long break when the weather is too bad to go for a walk - or when I am too tired! I was hoping to see the room before starting, but it didn't work out, and so tomorrow I will find out what my living situation will be. Will I have access to a kitchen, or at least to a fridge? If not dinners will be problematic!

I am hoping to get back home at least every other night. I will not have access to the internet in St. Moritz - unless I can tap into some unsecured network - meaning I'll feel very cut off from family and friends. This coming week I'll spend Monday night up there, and be home Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. After that I don't know...

Don't laugh - but after some friends made a comment to the effect that I am not "taking care of myself," I consulted with a few sophisticated women and the consensus was that indeed in such an upscale bakery in such an upscale place, I should wear makeup! Which I haven't done on a regular basis since I left Switzerland in 1977! So my sister and my niece took me shopping and I have been practicing... primarily so that I don't get scared each time I see myself in the mirror. I am not sure the effort is improving my looks, but hey, at least I look sophisticated! I am worried about how I'll look after the walk to work in the cold will have made my eyes water...

As evidenced by the pictures, it's winter. On Monday there was almost a foot of snow at my sister's chalet, and of course as much here, in the Engadin. The locals complain that winter came a whole month too early, and nobody believes the snow will leave again before spring. It's very annoying, as going for walks is a pain, either in mud, or in slush, or in shady places, on ice. In the winter they plow the trails, and so there's a smooth and compact base to walk on. Now, it's very uneven and definitely difficult and slow walking. But I had to spend time outside as it was absolutely gorgeous during the whole week. There's a clash between the two seasons, with the golden larch needles still spelling out fall, and the contrast between the gold and the snow seems wrong. I did take a walk into the woods to collect some evergreen branches before they'll be totally buried under more snow. I don't like to think about the holidays even before Halloween, but all of a sudden it dawned on me that it was now or never. The holidays won't be a big deal for me this year, but nevertheless, I have to respect the traditions to some degree. Now let's just hope that the needles will stay on until December!

View of Les Dents du Midi, from my sister's chalet.













Brigitte and I walked up to an old barn her friends are fixing up into a restaurant on the slopes of the Villars skiing area. When we arrived, shortly after noon, they and their workers were just finishing eating a fondue. We were greeted with a glass of white wine.









On a walk in the Zuoz area (above Madulain).

About Loss and Death

Monday morning in Tannay, near Geneva. Alone in Paul's very new and so cute little apartment, waiting for IKEA to deliver the furniture he bought on Saturday. It was either today or in 3 weeks, and since he is in Brussels, I offered to stay here until they arrive. It's a good time out, an opportunity to catch up with myself and post something on my blog. It's a blustery fall morning. Most trees still have their leaves and they are wildly thrashing around in the wind. Much howling and rustling.

Many people love fall, the colors, the light, the cozy sweaters, the long evenings with candles. I admit that all of the above are nice, but I don't like fall. For me it's all about loss and death, and as I am writing this I am keenly aware that one less person on my email list will read this post. My Portland friend Lois Meddock passed away on Saturday, October 16. She was one of Analogy's (Martin's business) first employees, and we have known each other for over 20 years. She was always so positive, so upbeat and so funny. She also was too young to go. Last time I saw her, when I had dinner with her before leaving Portland in January, she was healthy and it never occurred to me that I might never see her again. I am afraid that since I missed the service she will always remain alive in my mind.


Because I can't avoid fall, I am trying to celebrate it. Unfortunately I was in Zuoz for just 3 days before coming down to the lowlands and they were more winter than fall. One day the snow fell all the way down to the valley floor. It eventually melted back into the trees, but I would be surprised if it melted one more time above the tree line before spring. The temperatures are now dipping into the low teens, and barely above freezing during the day. It's cold here too, but balmy compared to the mountains! Nevertheless, in an attempt to slow down the inexorable progress of winter, I am going through the fall rituals. I bought a pumpkin. I am not planning on carving it, but I am hoping to make soup with it - presuming that deep frost doesn't kill it. One day I collected dried flowers and arranged them in a huge bouquet. It dawned on me that if I want any Christmas greens I better get them now before the snow covers the forest floor for good. With the snow and the cold more birds are again hanging around the houses. The blackbirds have left the mountain tops and are cruising in large droves around the village; one afternoon a whole flock of pine crossbills were feasting on the mugo pine below my balcony - I could actually hear them cracking the pine nuts.

It was sweet to experience another season in Zuoz, new for me, since all my previous stays were in the summer or in the deep winter. I would have loved to stay, to go to the back of Val Trupchun to listen to the roaring of the mating elk, but I also wanted to be sociable one last time before starting work, next Monday. I needed to check on my aunt, run errands for her, cook for her. It was a great visit, we talked a lot, laughed, but she is getting weaker and is starting to think about moving to a nursing home. Some of her friends are advising her to do it, and she wants my opinion. How can I know? How can anybody but herself know whether it's time to move to a nursing home? My advice to her was to listen only to herself. She is the one who will have to live with the decision - forever. Once moved out of her apartment there will not be a way back and if she moves too soon she might regret it. When she is ready she will have my full support.

I also very much wanted to see my sister, probably for the last time until spring - and I will join her tonight. So between St. Gallen (my aunt's) and Gryon (Brigitte's) I rode the train to Geneva to visit Jacqueline (we went to lab technician school together in the early 70's). Most of our time was spent in shoe stores, as I had to find good winter boots. I have top of the line Sorels - inaccessible in my storage unit in Portland. I had bought them on sale at Freddie's for $70 - here they sell for Fr. 249 (1Fr = 1$!). Ouch! Thank you Jacqueline for your patience, for driving me from mall to mall, for bearing with me while I was trying on yet another pair of boots!

After Geneva it was an interesting and delightful weekend with Paul. Saturday was the interesting part - spent entirely at IKEA where he had to get everything from toilet brush to bookshelves. Some of you know how much I hate malls and shopping... However, since I didn't have to make the decisions (this or that ironing board?) there was no stress for me and the store is the best venue for people watching. All skin colors, innumerable languages, couples, couples with children, mothers and daughters, mothers, daughters and granddaughters, gay couples, various body sizes, all dressed quite elegantly, the men with scarves, just about all the women wearing boots. Much purple all around as it is the fashionable fall color. When we left the store, after more than 4 hours, I was starving, dehydrated and more tired than after a major hike!

Sunday was the delightful day: Paul had asked me to show him around Geneva and I was more than happy to do so. It was raining and the colors (or absence thereof) and the mood reminded me of scenes in the movie Death in Venice (Luchino Visconti). At the onset of our tour I bought a bag of "marons chauds" (roasted chestnuts) which are nice to nibble on on a cold day, but even nicer to hold in your cold hands. We visited both the touristy areas, and my old stomping grounds, Ecole de Medecine, the hospital neighborhood, the streets I lived on and the old bakery. The villa at the back of the lane housing the research lab where I worked no longer exists. The whole day felt rather unreal: Paul and I met in formers lives back in Canada; he is now living here, but I was showing him around the city where I had lived even before meeting him. Thank you Paul for following me through my memory trail!

Meanwhile the IKEA goods have been delivered. It's time for lunch, and eventually to move on to meet Brigitte.

Pictures:

1. Lois Meddock (picture from her Facebook page)
2. My attempt at celebrating fall
3. Pine crossbill
4. Bourg de Four, Geneva

SFO - PDX- ZRH

I got back to Zuoz yesterday late afternoon. The trip was smooth, my bags were all there, the rolling duffel, the skis and the boot bag. Since this time I traveled alone and didn't have enough hands for all this baggage, I had the two largest items shipped to myself by train from Zurich. It's so much easier changing trains (remember - it's 4 trains from the airport!) without schlepping all that weight and, an added bonus, no suitcase to unpack at arrival! The downside is that it takes forever for the luggage to get here - on Monday only!

When I landed Switzerland was under a thick layer of fog, but from the plane I could see the high peaks of the Alps poking through. As the train pulled out of the tunnel and into my valley, I was greeted by the golden larches lit up by the sun, under a perfectly blue sky. I couldn't have wished for a better welcome. I hesitated to go for a walk, but it was late afternoon when I finally got home and in the end I felt too tired. I took a long walk today - but under cloudy skies and snow flurries. In spots there was ice on the trail.

Leaving Portland was harder now than it had been in January - because this time my return is much more uncertain. Also because my stay offered the best of life in the Pacific-Northwest - among others the visit to Claire in San Francisco. After repeated trips I am finally starting to be "blase" about being in San Francisco - for so long the Golden Gate had been the symbol of impossibly far away destinations! Now it's no longer about the city, but all about hanging out with Claire. And luckily, we managed to do a lot of it! She took me to North Beach where the Airshow rehearsal was taking place. The weather was perfect (as it was during that whole last week in the US) and since this was my first air show I was blown away. The jets seemed just a few feet above the water - I could have sworn that some flew under the Golden Gate - and the noise was overwhelming. At times it felt like they were zooming in-between buildings. A few questions sprung to mind: does the show get an exemption from the San Francisco noise ordinance? How many tax dollars are burnt into thin air, and are the CO2 emissions offset? Is a 10% fatality rate for the Blue Angel pilots a fair price to pay for the stunning show?

One day, trying to get away from the noise of the planes and the crowds we went to Berkeley. The waterfront is not worth the trip (except perhaps for the snowy egret), but it was fun seeing the university campus for the first time since 1976... Claire took me to a farmers market (sorely missed here in Zuoz) and together with Colin we strolled up through Buena Vista Park and the Haight neighborhood - the former hangout of the hippies. She barely beat me at scrabble and in tandem we baked a fabulous pumpkin pie. I was utterly impressed when I found out that she is on a first-name basis with the drivers of the California Cable Car, and she kindly introduced me to them!

The return to Portland was awkward. Like so many times before, I was coming home... or was I? While during my first week in Portland I was feeling numb and distanced from the city, this time I experienced a feeling like tenderness and compassion for my fellow Portlanders. I felt sorry for the many overweight people who cannot afford good food and who don't have the time to exercise while working two jobs to be able to pay the bills. I felt sorry for the many unemployed people who don't have the option of running away to another life, to another country to try their luck. I felt sorry for all the good folks who have not had the opportunity to see the world, to hike in mountains, to listen to an organ concert in a Gothic cathedral. Yet, I applaud them for their love of farmers markets, public libraries, good coffee, accessible beaches and I love them for their kindness, helpfulness and smiles.

Since I was quite spaced out during my dinner at Martin's on my first night in Portland, I was happy to be issued a second invitation. And what an invitation it was: he decided to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving, on Monday October 11th. Not only did he and Laurie invite the usual holiday crowd, but they all came: Ernst, Marianne, Cecilia and Roger - only Claire, Eric and Grand-Pa were missing. Despite the fact that just about everybody had to work the next day, we took our time to eat the traditional meal, including pumpkin pie, sample different wines, tell our stories, enjoy being all together. Since I will miss the holidays this year this meant a lot to me, and I thank Martin and Laurie from the bottom of my heart.

Additional thanks: Claire for a great time, Colin for putting up with me, Denise, Lynn, Kathy, Carole and Evelyne for making time in your busy schedules, Marianne, for housing and chauffeuring me; Ernst, Marianne, Cecilia and Roger for showing up for the Canadian Thanksgiving, Catherine for a wonderful French meal with great friends, and for driving me to the dentist; Rosine for acting as my cab driver; Beth for driving me to yoga, and Hannah for feeding me chanterelles and driving me back to Marianne's; Jody for the ride to and from the pool; Ria for the final ride to the airport, the helping with the luggage, and the moral support.


Pictures:

1. The golden larches lining the Engadin
2. San Francisco Airshow acrobatics
3. UN Plazza Farmers Market, San Francisco
4. View from my window as I got to my apartment in Zuoz on Friday Oct. 15 at 4:40pm

American Bittern

If it weren't for my journal I would not be able to write this blog. In retrospect all of last week appears as one big blur of frenetic activity, faces and hugs melding into each other.

I am now in San Francisco, spending a quiet morning at Claire's, catching my breath, trying to get centered. I spent yesterday mostly in transit, as with public transportation it takes a while to get from Marianne's to PDX, and again from the Oakland airport to Claire's. Then my plane was delayed by more than an hour, which made for much waiting time at PDX. It is however still a relatively sleepy and quiet airport, except for the singer who was belting out Frank Sinatra-style songs at 11am. It is as good a place as any to do the crosswords and get engrossed in a good book (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Michael Chabon). Actually, I was so lost in my book that upon landing in Oakland I wasn't quite sure where I was. Besides having my head stuck in New York (the location of most of the action of the book), I also felt that I was again taken over by numbness. I was tired from all the running around from last week, but I think there definitely is more to it. I was looking forward to seeing Claire, but I couldn't feel any excitement at being in San Francisco. Perhaps I am becoming like my friend who has traveled so much and lived in so many places, that he no longer puts down any roots or builds any strong connections with any of these places. I'd hate to be like that, but on the other hand it's probably less painful than leaving pieces of my heart strewn across the world.

I had already felt numb during most of this week in Portland. I am trying to sort out whether it is because being in Portland is being at home, so easy, so comfortable, so normal, nothing to get all excited about, or whether I am protecting myself, not allowing myself to feel, because it would make leaving too painful. The fact is that when I left in January I thought I'd be gone for just 9 months, which is not a long time, and no reason to be sad. This time I am leaving having no idea of when I'll return. Of course, I'll visit again, but I truly don't know when I'll return for good. I suspect the numbness also protects me from grieving for the good life I lost at the same time as the job. I am feeling very much adrift and I am actually looking forward to returning to Switzerland, to my apartment, to my small valley, which all look like a protecting cocoon from here.

I am definitely learning the art of letting go. Last week Ron took me to my storage unit and it was an experience to see all my earthly belongings stacked up in this little space - all there, but inaccessible - an ironic symbol of my life! Rick and Larry helped me remove from my house the items that I had left for the former tenants. I gave them both permission to sell or give away my belongings if they need the space, given that this time I cannot claim that it is just for a few months. I am not sure how the mattress or the new leather sofa are faring in storage, and I am expecting to have to remodel most of the house, get new furnishings, and redo the landscaping. Indeed, nobody has done any trimming during the year, and the passage on the side of the house is almost inaccessible, overgrown with intertwined clematis, roses and wisteria from the neighbors' property. The two blueberry bushes that I had planted during my last spring in the house have disappeared and the red current is being buried by other vegetation. Need to let it go, need to let it go... And so I am training myself to be numb because feeling is too painful to bear. I am hoping selective amnesia will help move forward.

This being said, in between dentist appointments the week has been peppered with sweet moments with friends and again I have many thanks to extend: Joe for birding at Ridgefield and the greatest American Bittern siting; Rachel for a lovely Sunday morning at Oaks Bottom and the ride to the doctor's (just a check-up - all's well!); Rick for the removal and storage of my gardening implements (including the first failed attempt because my own key no longer worked for my house); Jon and Merrie for hosting a Cosi serata which allowed me to meet the whole Italian book club. Barbara, Russ, Tom, Cathy, Katherine and Rick all brought healthy and tasty Portland food to go along with Jon's pasta. Thank you Jody for driving me to the pool and back, thank you Tom for getting me to the dentist and thank you Jon for picking me up after the root canal. Regna and Tom (another Tom) fed me more soul food and good conversation. Thank you Bill H. for lunch and thank you Lee and Cathy for spending an unusual but fun afternoon with me. Thank you Larry for picking up the balance of my furniture at my house and for storing it and thank you Rustica for dinner and driving me to the High Desert Committee meeting, which allowed me to see these old friends and desert combat comrades! I am truly overwhelmed by the love and support I am getting from all of you.

Picture 1: San Francisco Cable car at California and Larkin; Claire's house is the 3rd from the right.

Coyote near Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge (WA)













The American Bittern














Great Blue Heron

Tomatoes

My numbness dissipated as we pulled out of the Columbia Gorge, heading east. The rain gave way to patches of blue sky, the misty hills to the ocher shelves sliding down towards the river. All of a sudden I felt alive and excited. I was in the car with two kindred spirits, the conversation was lively and the ride to Antelope, to Desert Conference XXV, seemed very quick. Once we reached the Columbia Plateau, we were treated to the sharply contrasting light of the late afternoon over the wheat fields, and later the hilly John Day country. Then I remembered why I am so enamored with Oregon. The big city, its parking lots, noise and craziness are the price to pay for having access to wilderness and these breathtaking landscapes.

The welcome I got from friends, former foundation colleagues and fellow desert rats was overwhelming. Each of the greetings and hugs made me feel increasingly welcome, part of the community, as if I had come home. Activists with whom I had been working since the late 80s, former grantees, and the younger generation of bright, fun, kind, hard working conservation staff - all treating me as still one of them. Being gone for just nine months is not a big deal and I could now take up my life and activities as I have left them. For how much longer can I be gone before becoming a stranger?


The day after I returned from the conference I went to the beach for 3 days with Marianne - and was under the same spell. The weather was the best, perfect September days, a last stretch of summer. The ocean was wild; huge waves crashing and splashing. Nevertheless, on two days we saw whales, and on the third a group of some 40 (a pride?) of California Sea Lions foraging in the impressive surf. It was all so easy, so familiar. At times I would forget that I am visiting from so far away, from another life. Being here, staying at Marianne's house, I know that I am not at home. But on the go, like on so many trips I have taken with Marianne, it seems like just one more. Since we speak exclusively French with each other and were playing old French songs in the car, and since our conversations often were about Switzerland, at times I no longer knew who was visiting whom, or on which continent we were.

Yesterday someone asked me how I was feeling about having to travel back to Switzerland in 2 weeks (Oct. 14). I honestly had not yet given it any thought. The Lemonade Project has definitely taught me to live in the moment. Slowly, though, I am starting to distill out of the many experiences and encounters I am having during this stay in the US a feeling that I hope I can keep for the next several months: it doesn't matter where I live, I am comfortable on both continents, I am loved and supported here and there. There will not be a perfect solution, wherever I live I will miss components of the other life, but it's ok, I can be ok and happy either way. Perhaps my anxieties are at long last yielding to a sort of surrender to whatever opportunity life will offer.

This blog post will never do justice to the excitement and experiences of the last few days: the farewell bear hug of a friend who has terminal cancer - he gave me a piece of obsidian he picked up on Glass Butte just a few days before, which I will keep forever; the heron and the egret in front of the condo window on Siletz Bay; picking chanterelles in the coastal rainforest and feasting on them; the setting sun on the colorful limestone cliffs on Cape Kiwanda; watching a kingfisher flutter along the Deschutes River; a friend's soul food serving as the basis of a soulful evening with parents of the French-American School days; fish and chips and a microbrew in Newport while listening to the barking of the sea lions. And let us not forget the less pleasant hours at the dentist (a root canal coming up on Monday!) and the trips between the optometrist and the glasses store because of a bad prescription; getting on the wrong bus, the impossibility of figuring out how to get where by bus because neither the routes, nor the schedules are posted at the stops and I don't have a smart phone and my cell phone is out of battery... And this being Portland, I can't help but notice that the most common subject of conversations among locals is not the state budget deficit, or the upcoming elections, or who won the game. No, it's all about tomatoes: the fact that this year's summer was so pathetic that they didn't ripen, which makes for a lot of frustrated gourmets!

Special thanks to the folks who have generously housed, driven or fed me: Gilly, Marianne, Rosine, Randy, Beth and Tony, John and Teri, Ron and Ria, Wendy. My apologies to the many unanswered email messages - I am either out of town and without a computer, or madly running around in Portland until I crash late at night.

Pictures:

1. The bounty ready to become dinner.
2. Shaniko Post Office. Sheepmen would bring the wool to the railroad station for shipping. Shaniko is on the way to the Big Muddy Ranch, formerly Rajneeshpuram, now the Washington Family Ranch, AKA Young Life Ranch - site of the Desert Conference.
3. The John Day river and surrounding country, either designated wilderness, or proposed wilderness.
4. Pacific City, Cape Kiwanda Beach.