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.