On my way home

It's been an insane week. I am used to living alone in Portland, and even more alone in Zuoz. Countless hours by myself, time to hear myself think, silence and quiet. For the last 2 weeks I have never spent more than 2 nights in the same bed. I never know which day of the week it is. When people ask me where I live I am not sure whether the response is Portland or Zuoz. I have gone from friend to friend, stitching the various threads of my past onto the present.

I left Switzerland in 1977 and during all these years I have come back to Neuchatel, my home town, on a regular basis. However, especially during the last few years, I had very little time for my friends, making my Dad my priority, knowing all too well that his death I'd have all the time in the world for my friends. So now we are getting reacquainted, we are catching up on each others kids, parents, gardens. We rediscover each other and remember why we used to laugh so hard when we were young, and with pleasure discover that we still can laugh till we cry. All this on a backdrop of generous hospitality, cozy guest rooms, wonderful food and intoxicating wines. There also have been many walks, in the leafing out woods with the delicate undergrowth of tender new foliage and wild flowers, along the lake with the binoculars in an attempt to identify yet another bird, between the stone walls delineating the vineyards, among old buildings heavy with history and personal memories.

I visited friends from Geneva now in Neuchatel, friends from Neuchatel still in Neuchatel, a friend from Neuchatel now in Geneva. The most moving visit though was with my father's second wife, her present husband and her son. My mother had died in 1970 and my father remarried 2 years later. His new wife had been widowed at the same time as he was, and brought a son into the marriage. It was not a happy marriage and they separated in 1977, 3 weeks after I emigrated to Canada. With hindsight it is obvious that the marriage happened too soon after the deaths of the respective spouses, and we all were hurting with still very raw emotions. During all those years I had no contact whatsoever with this woman, until I saw her son at my father's funeral. One thing leading to another, she took the courageous first step to invite my sister for a visit, and then me. I was welcomed with untold grace and kindness. Instead of speaking of the difficult shared past, we were grateful to meet again on a different basis and appreciated each other as the whole and healed people time has allowed us to become. I have finally been able to make peace with that difficult past. Life is so ironic: I have rebuilt a relationship with Dad's 2nd wife just as his partner of the last 30 years has totally cut herself off from the family.

Tomorrow I am traveling back to Zuoz. I'll have to study on the train to be ready for Monday night's rumauntsch class. I will make the detour via St. Gallen to have a cup of coffee with my aunt. I will be in Zuoz only for 3 days and on Thursday I'll again travel to Geneva for a second attempt at a trip to Brussels.

For their friendship, warmth, generosity, great conversation, soul food and laughter I thank Marianne, Eric, Claire-Lise, Brigitte, Christelle and Marilyn, Anne-Marie and Yvan, Jacques-Andre, Eliane, Alain and Benoit, Marcelle, Pierre-Alain and Didier, Christiane and Gilbert, Denise, Isabelle, Marlyse, Carole and Jacques, as well as Francoise and Marcel.

The Volcano is Erupting

Since before I left the US I had been hoping to visit my friend Paul in Brussels. Brussels is a gorgeous city, I have not been there since 1970, I love Paul, I have not seen him in a long time either, and Paul is moving to Switzerland next week - so this weekend was the last possible moment to visit him in Belgium. I left Zuoz on Tuesday to escape the slush and mud, to visit friends here and there, and above all, to make it to Geneva to catch my plane to Brussels this afternoon. And then this stupid Icelandic volcano begins to erupt!

It's now Friday am, I am at my sister's, pirating the neighbor's unsecured internet connection - at least I do have a connection now, which was not the case last night when I tried to figure out the situation. At this point it looks like the flight is a go (at 3:30pm) - but this is in a long time from now, and I won't believe it until I am in the air. I also hope that they will not push it and that it would also be really safe to be in the air!

I left Zuoz on Tuesday morning, after only 5 hours of sleep. The night before I had my Rumauntsch class, meaning it was past 10pm when I got home. Fortunately my train was not too early on Tuesday, but nevertheless I had to get up at 6:30am - which was the time when I used to get up to go to work. By the way, today is the anniversary of the loss of my job. It's hard to believe that a whole year went by. I am still grieving for it, I am still trying to come to terms with it, I am still trying, as you all know, to figure out what to do next with my life.

My first stop on this 2 week trip was Val D'Illiez, the town where my friend Marianne has her chalet. It was her parents' chalet, but both her parents died recently and once again, we are in a similar situation. Some of you know about Marianne and me - let me summarize this extraordinary friendship for those who don't. We met in a supermarket in Beaverton in 1986. She started talking to me because she had heard me talk in French to my kids. Where are you from?... from Switzerland we narrowed it down to the street where we grew up - my family at number 30, hers at 33! Our lives have had incredible parallels: we both formerly were lab technicians, we both married men of Czech origins, her husband studied at the same Canadian University as Martin and I, she moved from the east coast to the west coast, she divorced more or less at the same time, etc, etc. She is more my sister than my friend. We have traveled together, our kids are like cousins, we knew each other's parents. She now lives in my neighborhood in Portland. All this to say that I miss her a lot and taking the train on Tuesday morning I was excited as if I was going to meet a lover! It was awkward to be with her in such a different place from our usual haunts, and yet, it was so familiar, so warm, so easy, so comforting!

Her chalet is in the mountains, of course, but at a lower elevation than Zuoz, and we were able to take a couple of walks amidst green grass and flowers! On Wednesday we drove to her brother's in Geneva, playing tourists along the way. I identified a few beautiful ducks on Lake Geneva...


Of course I also knew her brother who graciously invited me not only to stay in his house, but also to a delicious and typical dinner of filets de perches in a small local restaurant.

Yesterday morning I was alone in the big house when I woke up: Marianne had to catch her 7am flight back to Pdx. I spent the morning purchasing a flight to New York to go see Eric perform at the end of June! This is a huge milestone for me: at this stage in my uncertain life I am having terrible difficulties making any plans because the fact that I don't know what to do with my life is interfering with my ability to make even small trivial ones. Then I had to tackle the Geneva public transportation system to make it from the nice villa in the country to the train station (where I left my suitcase), and then over to my friend Claire-Lise whom I met for lunch. Claire-Lise used to be the secretary in the research institute where I was a technician in Geneva. I had not seen her since I left both the Institute and the country in 1977! What a pleasure. She still is nervous when she plays the piano in front of someone else, and she still has the most pleasant laughter - like little bells ringing. We laughed a lot when we worked together, and we laughed plenty yesterday. It is so heartwarming to see someone after so much time, active, healthy, happy, keeping herself physically and mentally fit! I love tying these threads from my current life back to my past - it definitely helps me in my attempt to make sense of it all.

PS: My flight was canceled. Details in the next posting.

Awakenings

Eric and Pam left on Sunday and I went through the usual withdrawal symptoms of when one of my kids leaves after a few days of togetherness. The house gets quiet, the laughter stops, the food is less interesting (also less fatty!), the wine is replaced with milk. As all my guests are required to do, they each wrote an entry into the guest book - but didn't want me to read them until after they left. No wonder: Eric's was so sad that it made me sob: he probably will not have an opportunity to return to this apartment before I must sell it. He has come here since he was a toddler and there are so many happy memories associated with this place. As I am myself treasuring every moment here, I am also keenly aware that time is running - and will run out quickly. I am still toying with the idea of extending my stay in the Engadin beyond the few months I was initially planning on, but Eric's visit was a reminder of how much my kids mean to me, how I enjoy spending time with them, and how much more difficult it is to do so while I live on another continent. Meanwhile, one of the two job applications I submitted was promptly rejected. The other one, for the train, is still pending. I am putting much effort into taking it one day at the time, not to worry about my future, to see what happens, and let things happen.

Eric and Pam were very lucky with the weather - winter returned for the duration of their stay, which here is much more enjoyable than spring. Snow days alternated with glorious sunny days, cold enough to keep the trails in good condition - easy to walk on in winter boots. Luckily I don't have a garden in which I would have had to hide the easter eggs: it snowed all day on Sunday, and most of Monday before it cleared again. We spend Saturday night coloring eggs and Sunday morning looking for them. Meanwhile I have learned why Easter is associated with eggs - at least according to the local paper: during Lent people were not allowed to eat eggs and therefore they boiled them to preserve them until Easter - at which time they had accumulated a considerable amount. One egg would be buried next to the house to protect it from fire, floods, landslides and lightning.

Last Tuesday I couldn't stand it anymore and hauled my cross-country skies back out of the basement for one last excursion, up the Val Roseg, leaving from Pontresina. I took an early train to be able to ski on hard snow as long as possible. 1 k before the restaurant (here in the winter, the end point often is a restaurant) I had to abandon the skis because the track had been covered by an avalanche and I continued on foot. Since I had brought a picnic lunch, I looked for a place to rest and eat. I didn't find any near the restaurant, and took the trail that continued up the valley. I ended up going for another hour, all the way to the back, where I was face to face with the 4,000 meter mountains and the glacier. I was all alone, it was most spectacular and rewarding. Unfortunately by the time I finally decided to go back and reached my skis, the snow had become very soft and it was a slow slog back to the train station. I spotted a few groups of chamois and did my best to ignore the eerie and unsettling feeling created by the avalanches that were constantly crashing down the steep slopes, like giant intermittent waterfalls. Obviously they designed the trail very carefully!

Talking about eerie feelings: yesterday I decided to change gear (literally) and to hike down to the next town via the north slope of the valley, which is also the sunny side. Looking from down here it seemed that most of the snow was gone. I learned that it's difficult to estimate how much snow there is looking from below. It ended up being the most challenging, and probably downright stupid walk: me, alone, traversing on the steep slope, in still deep snow, with hardly any tracks. Luckily I was wearing my good hiking boots and had my stick with me. For a short section the trail went straight up, on bare ground. This is where I almost stepped on a viper that was stretched out along the trail. She was not going to yield, so I did, politely - I am not arguing with a viper. Once at a safe distance I took my camera out, and took a few pictures. All of a sudden a mouse scurried by just below us. This was about to become very interesting. Indeed, the viper had not missed the mouse either and started making its way in the mouse's direction, slithering through the snow. And then I saw the other viper, also some 3 feet from me, but on the other side. I was caught between 2 vipers, converging into a V. My only escape was up the hill, over the scree where no doubt more vipers were warming themselves in the sun. Once more my stick became invaluable, as I repeatedly tapped the rocks around me to warn all the vipers that I was coming through, giving them much time to hide.


Must go: tomorrow I am catching the 6:13am train to go to St. Gallen to fix lunch for my aunt. It will be an 4 hour train ride each way... But I want to do that for her. She has been house bound all winter and is in much pain because of rheumatism. Perhaps some company will be good for her spirits.

In case you haven't seen them: my pictures of Chalandamarz are now posted on Picasa: http://picasaweb.google.com/irenevlach/Chalandamarz#