Present perfect

This time I have a whole 4 days in between trips. Last night I returned from Italy, a grueling 15.5 hour trip from door to door, but I wanted to get home in one day - and I made it. I felt really excited when I got on the bus to travel across the San Bernadino Pass, from the Ticino to my area. It was a perfect late afternoon, and on the drive we were treated to gorgeous light, dramatic clouds, and even alpenglow (the pink sunset color on snowfields). It very much felt like coming home. The joy of being back in the mountains was tainted with the knowledge that now my days here are counted. One of the advantages of traveling is that I am entirely focused on the present and forget about the precarious situation of my life. For all I knew I might just as well have been on a little European vacation, coming from the US... all the more so since I am "going home" to Portland this coming Wednesday. I really do feel like I am going home, and then I remember that I actually don't have a home there now, that I'll be just visiting, living off my friends' hospitality.

My trip to Italy was almost perfect. I spent the first part with Aldo and Silvia. Aldo was my first boss, from 1973 to 1975. We were doing research on diabetes at the University of Geneva. And paradoxically, the context of this visit was again diabetes. Aldo moved from research to education and the purpose of the trip was to teach diabetes patients that they can lead active lives despite their illness and how to manage their blood sugar while being physically active. We were a small group of 6 people.




We started in the city of Tivoli, a short drive to the NE of Rome and hiked in the Monti Lucretili. They are not dramatic mountains, but it was very beautiful, not at all touristy, and we hardly met other hikers. Everything was in bloom, wild roses and scotch broom - except that there it was native and not the invasive weed we know it as in Oregon. The forest floor was carpeted with cyclamen. We hiked through a grove of cork oak. The nights were spent in B&Bs, the first one being the perfect Italian experience. If anyone is interested in the real Italian deal off the tourist track, let me know, and I'll send you the information. The B&B was next to the town's castle, which actually belonged to the same owner. He gave us a tour of the castle and shared his passion for its history, the art, his efforts at restoring it. The owner's wife is an excellent cook and together they prepared and served a meal worthy of the best restaurants.

Unfortunately the 3 day trek had a tragic ending: on the trail, shortly before we got back to town Aldo's spirited little dog ate something laced with strychnine and died a horrible death a few hours later. My memories of the trip will forever be tainted by the pain of seeing this small creature suffer immensely. And I also cried for the deep sadness that Aldo and Silvia were experiencing. Our return to their home in Rome and our last night together were understandably very subdued.



The next morning I took the train to the Adriatic coast, to the town of Lanciano, to visit my Portland friends Tom and Cathey. Cathey's family is from the area and they own a small house in the old part of the city. Lanciano is in the Abruzzo region, where I had already spent a week hiking with Silvia in 2005. This was an opportunity to get to know a new part of the country. Like the Monti Lucretili, it is not at all touristy - yet very beautiful country. Lanciano is a relatively big town, a little bigger than Neuchatel, with a huge old section. It is perched on a ridge and offers great views over the countryside, all the way down to the sea and to the Majella mountains, a National Park. Tom and Cathey gave me a taste of all: tour of the old city, long walk in the country around Lanciano in between vineyards and olive groves, drive to the beach, and on the next day, an excursion to the Majella with short hikes into a couple of the impressive canyons draining the mountains. On the day I traveled to Lanciano the weather was horrible, and fresh snow was sticking half way down the mountains. Like last year in May when I traveled to Salzburg I spent a substantial part of my time in Lanciano being cold. Fortunately, because of the trek I had many warm layers with me.

I enjoyed getting to better know Cathey and Tom. Coming off the trek and being cold, I ate enormous amounts - and in addition to being great guides, they graciously kept feeding me! Thank you for your kind hospitality, including the drive to the train station at 6am!

Thank you also to Aldo and Silvia for inviting me on the trek. My heart goes out to you as you are dealing with the loss of Macchia.

Pictures:

1. Late afternoon on Pontemilvio, Rome.
2. Villa D'Este, Tivoli.
3. Antonella, Silvia and Aldo in San Polo dei Cavalieri, and Macchia. According to Aldo, she was so beautiful that on a scale from 1 to 10 she was a 12.
4. Hiking in the Majella National Park.

Travelogue

I am briefly at home in Zuoz, just 36 hours in between trips, just enough time to empty the mail box, do the laundry and repack. Tomorrow, I am off to Rome to meet up with friends for a 3-day trek in the Monti Lucretili, just to the NE of Rome. Then it's off to the Adriatic coast to stay with friends from Portland. I am leaving my computer at home, so don't expect to hear from me until my return to Zuoz on May 20.

My week traveling around Switzerland has been a whirlwind of fun, of warm times reconnecting with friends - and with myself too. I am finding that I am not the only one struggling. The conversations have spanned various difficult topics: the unexpected death of a sibling with which my friend did not get along and the ensuing conflicting feelings; marital problems, illness, mental illness, aging, dealing with aging relatives... As my friend Beth so wisely said many years ago: "I have given up believing that there is such a thing as normal life". It's true that it's easier to deal with the upheavals when one views life as a series of crises, with fleeting moments of happiness and calm. To protect the privacy of my friends I will not write where I have traveled over the last few days.

Except for the wonderful trip I took to the Ticino with my sister Brigitte. It's the southern-most part of Switzerland, a region of big deep lakes surrounded by mountains, impressive rivers, quaint villages and palm trees. Neither one of us had ever been there and we had fun exploring. On the first day we took the postal bus (these buses go all over Switzerland to any village not reachable by train) to the back of a side-valley known for its scenic hiking trail along the river: Val Verzasca. The river was wild and beautiful, but I was even more taken by the villages.




All the houses are built with granite slabs, exquisitely set in gardens of blooming wisteria and clematis. While riding up on the bus we scouted for sections of the trail that looked like interesting hiking, and we ended up walking through most of the scenic part of the valley.

On the second day we borrowed bikes from our hotel and rode them through the flat of the Maggia river delta to the town of Ascona. The Maggia is a major river... and we were shocked to find it so dry that we could have walked across in some parts. Indeed, except for that one rainy day in Neuchatel, the weather was more beautiful one day than the next. Every day I wake up to perfectly blue sky, and this with just a few exceptions since early January. I don't mean to make my American friends envious, because I know how horrible the weather has been in Oregon, and how deadly in other parts of the US. However, as nice as it is to have sunny skies everyday, it is not normal in Switzerland. I was told that in one area ducks had to be relocated. We had at least 2 forest fires, already, which are very rare in Switzerland, even in the late summer!


Ascona was a surprise. Very scenic of course, nestled in a bay, and very rich, very artsy, and obviously very gay-friendly. It was also somewhat unreal, the lowlands mirror image of St. Moritz, and I was glad we were staying in Locarno, very pretty, but a real town with real people going about their business. Of course Brigitte dragged me into shops, and I had to spend some of the money I made at the bakery. Actually it was high time to renew my clothing choices a bit. Fortunately, since I had to haul it all on and off numerous trains, I restrained myself. Plus you all know that I am not really a shopper. Still it's always fun with Brigitte.


Our hotel room had a little balcony, with a view of the lake and the Casino gardens and every night we enjoyed it with a glass of wine, relaxing, taking stock of the day and making plans for the next one.

We made the best of our stay, to the last minute. On Sunday, the day on which we traveled back to the French part of Switzerland, we got up early, to have breakfast as soon as it was served, checked out, stashed our baggage in a locker at the train station, and headed down to the port to catch the 9am boat to the Brissago Islands. (Fortunately the hotel was just a short walk both from the station and from the port). The boat schedule forced us to spend 2 hours on the islands and I was a little worried about what we were going to do during all that time, given that tourists actually have access only to one island, and that it's tiny: you can walk from one end to the other in less than 5 minutes. Except that it is a botanical garden, with a collection of tropical plants from all over the world: cacti from Mexico, Protea from South Africa, bamboo from Asia... the two hours went by very quickly. Back on the boat which docked in Locarno 10 minutes before the departure of our train. A perfect ending to a perfect trip. Traveling with my sister is so easy: we like the same activities, operate in the same way, no issues, no misunderstandings. As she says: the common upbringing, the common values.

So here I am back in Zuoz. The bad memories are already fading, and I am feeling as if I have come here on a vacation. I love breathing the crisp dry air, I love walking through the deserted village (it's in-between seasons and even the locals are now gone because the schools are out for 3 weeks!). The lowest larches have started to green, but the forest still is predominantly brown. The swallows are back though, and their calls spell summer.

Pictures:

1. Madonna del Sasso, and below, Locarno.
2. Sonogno, in the Val Verzasca
3. Ascona
4. Brigitte enjoying happy hour

Update

I am sitting in Pierre's great kitchen which is very bright despite the rainy day. I dare not complain about the rain because we need it so badly. So, while everybody is at work, I am spending a quiet day alone after 3 days of intense socializing. Later this afternoon I'll take the train to Geneva.

I feel like I have slipped back into my old skin, into my old self. The bakery already seems like a bad dream. I left Zuoz on Saturday after having spent 3 days trying to make plans. I managed to plan the first 48 hours or so, but no further. I am inventing my trip one day at a time and since I bought a pass for the trains I can crisscross Switzerland as I feel and as opportunities arise between now and my departure to the US. I never thought the day would come when I'd be looking forward to getting away from Zuoz, and would indeed leave without regret. This time, truly, I couldn't wait to get out of the valley in which I was increasingly feeling like a prisoner.

The departure was sweetened by the fact that on Friday I was invited for lunch by the colleague from Zuoz who had given me so many rides to/from the bakery. She had been saying since November that she wanted to cook the local specialty for me, capuns, and I had given up all hope of it actually happening. The fact that it finally worked out meant much more than a pleasant lunch with her (with The Wedding playing out on TV in the background!): at last, after living in the Engadin for 15 months, someone had invited me to their house!

Before leaving I also took a cleansing hike to the limit of the tree line to take in the first wildflowers. Within less than a week I transitioned from downhill skiing to hiking in meadows pink with heather, studded with anemones and dotted with clumps of violets and the first gentians. Rebirth, for nature and for me too!

Reaching the lowlands I felt wrapped up, overtaken by the lushness of the vegetation, the exuberance of all the flowers and blooming trees. Lilac everywhere, purple, white, lavender, perfumes, scents, smells... a feast for the senses. Morning coffee on steps in the sun, happy hour on decks overlooking gardens, meals in gardens framed by clusters of wisteria... Meals no longer taken alone while reading the paper, but shared with people who love me, people who have known me forever, people who support me and stand by me, offering me their guest beds, their food, their conversations and laughter, their hugs and kisses. Friends who will indulge my love for the lake, take me on a walk amid nesting swans and herons. Friends who find an extra bicycle and lead me through fields, along water, by marinas, to coffee shops with decks overlooking the water...

Getting to Neuchatel was emotional. Most of my friends actually live in the small towns near Neuchatel, and so rather than ending my trip in Neuchatel, I merely changed trains. Except that I had a half hour waiting time, plenty time to become very aware that nobody I knew was standing at the top of the stairs, and that indeed Neuchatel itself is foreign to me now that I can no longer visit my father.

I don't know where I am going, I don't know what I am doing, but I am having fun. I had fun huddling under the trees during the violent but brief hail storm; fun exploring small towns on foot or bike, fun attending a contemporary opera composed by a local musician in the renovated old church. I am enjoying this new transition, the time out. Thank you, Eliane and Alain, Marlyse, Jacques and Carole, Isabelle, Pierre, Nicole and Laksmi.

Meanwhile the sun has come out. It's time to take a walk among the vineyards.


Anemone pulsatilla - above Zuoz















Nesting swan in the harbor of Auvernier















On bicycle through the old village of Le Landeron.















Canola field at the foot of the Jura mountains. Le Landeron