Twist

My sisters have gone for a walk, primarily to get warm. The weather has been horrible for the last week, with the temperature generally hovering in the 50s. It's July - yet it hasn't been warm enough for shorts since the day I returned from the US. I feel sorry for the vacationers but I am actually glad for us, because there's no temptation to go off hiking instead of packing. I opted to stay home this afternoon, to give myself an opportunity to put up my feet - and ice the twisted ankle. Yes, I did it again. Those who have visited in the summer know about the dangerous depressions on the sides of the roads, where I have already twisted my ankle numerous times. I have been so good about avoiding those, but last Sunday, a fist-sized rock rolled under my foot, and it happened - some 1000 feet above Maloja, where I had to get to catch my bus, on a bad trail, in pouring rain. The incident confirmed my notion that it's not a good idea to go off hiking by myself on unknown and/or remote trails. This was supposed to be a quick and easy hike, from Sils Maria to Maloja, on the Via Engiadina, a trail leading through the whole valley. It's a popular trail, good on the sections I had already hiked, and I decided not to take my hiking stick. I did wear my knee brace as well as my high hiking boots - primarily to keep my feet dry in case of rain. The idea was to make it to Maloja before it started to rain, but within half an hour of getting off the bus it already started pouring. The next 90' were challenging, as the Via Engiadina was a miserable trail, rocky, steep, uneven in places. Since it was raining, in turn it was marshy, or I had to step from one semi-submerged rock to the next, or it was a trap of mud mixed up with cow pies. On one section the cows were on the trail, unwilling to move, and I had to get into the wet high grass on the steep slope... and then the stupid rock rolled under my foot!

Fortunately much of the work I had to do last week was on the phone rather than on my feet: getting bids for a new dishwasher, for cleaning the apartment after our departure, dealing with taxes, etc. etc., the phone was ringing off the hook. I did start to pack up some of my personal items. I was so careful not to buy anything... and I still have so much more than the 3 suitcases I had arrived with. Again, it being July I already packed my turtle necks, but I might have to reopen that box to retrieve some warm items.

My sisters arrived on Wednesday night and the next day we went to work, to sort out the contents of the apartment and pack them up. This morning we did the cleaning products and the Christmas decorations. Yesterday we packed up 10 boxes of books and brought them to the Salvation Army (this after the 26 boxes of books we packed up in Dad's Neuchatel apartment). I am having a difficult time going to sleep, I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep, thinking about things, and wake up early in the morning, unable to fall asleep again. One of the major worries is that I misplaced my American passport! It's eating me up. I have never lost a passport, I am always very careful with them. I had to take it to the post office to make a photocopy to send to my travel agent - and I haven't seen it since, despite all the searching and inquiring. I don't have much hope left for finding it again and I'll probably have to travel to Bern to have a new one made. What a pain. The only silver lining is that I have plenty time - I hope! Actually, I am not surprised that I managed to lose something precious. I don't sleep well, I am upset, I am scatterbrained, often unable to focus on anything... I put it down in some odd place, or perhaps threw it out with the paper recycling... I wish I knew!

As to why I need a travel agent: I decided it was time to make another old dream come true and that I needed something to look forward to, as these are rather sad and difficult times. As a child I had been saving and studying for years a catalog from the Cunard Shipping Company, dreaming about the excitement and romance of sailing to America across the Atlantic ocean in one of these elegant liners and to glide into New York harbor, past the Statue of Liberty. My return flight ticket was acquired with miles, i.e. it didn't cost me a fortune and I don't mind losing it. I am still under the shock from that horrible flight to Portland in May... The stars were lining up... and after thinking about it for a few days I made the decision: I will grant myself both a dream and a great transition between my European life and my return to the US: on September 20 I will board the Queen Mary 2 in South Hampton and arrive in New York on September 27. Eric will be picking me up at the harbor and I'll spend a few days with him before flying home to Portland, probably on September 30 - to take possession of my house on October 1. This is the tentative closing date for the Lemonade Project!


My beloved valley. From a viewpoint near Zuoz, looking west towards St. Moritz.















Last Sunday's hike, between Sils Maria and Maloja. This is Lake Sils.















Blaunca, a hamlet on the Via Engiadina, between Sils Maria and Maloja. I love the construction technique of the stairs.














Dad loved these aluminum army water bottles. It hurts having to throw them out, but what else to do with them?

Two hikes and a funeral

I have only an hour before it's time to start dinner preparations. Indeed, I am having a guest, the one and only who ever invited me over to her house. I am downright excited - and making a big deal out of it, call it a feast.

Much of my time is now taken up with the logistics of the move and the undoing of my current life. It all takes much effort - writing resignation letters by hand because I don't have a printer (health insurance, phone company, etc.), getting bids for a new dishwasher (the one I received includes only one option costing about twice as much as what I found on the internet) and for the cleaning of the apartment after our departure (when I checked with an acquaintance on what seemed to me a high bid she indeed confirmed that I was getting ripped off). So I have a long list of follow-up calls and more research to do on Monday. Monday also is the day I promised myself I'll start packing up the personal items I will no longer need: skis, snow boots, etc. Most of the time I am going through these motions in a state of numbness because it's too painful to allow myself to feel. I hate being like this, but I have to protect myself any way I can. The other day a woman at the tourist office (where I have been a regular visitor and where they know my story) asked me how the sale and move were coming along - and I had to leave because I was unable to talk, tears choking me.

I gave myself last weekend off and went on two hikes, both firsts, both very rewarding and both very therapeutic. I am hoping to do it again this weekend, although the weather forecast doesn't encourage very ambitious solo hikes. I'll have to play it by ear.

I spent the last two days in St. Gallen, where my aunt lives and where I stayed during most of my childhood vacations. A very dear family friend passed away on July 8th, and the funeral took place a couple of days ago. The funeral gave me the opportunity to visit my aunt. I had not yet seen her since my return from the US because she didn't want me to visit her. She took a clear turn for the worse since I saw her last in May. Her heart failure is making breathing very difficult and the slightest effort or upset gets her out of breath, meaning she is out of breath and unable to do anything, even talk, most of the time. She wants to be left alone, anything is too much to deal with, yet she still appreciated my cooking and sent me shopping with a long list. At the same time she says that she no longer wants overnight guests, but always wants me to stay longer. She is not only ready to enter a nursing home, she is ready to give up on everything. I am finding it very difficult to figure out how I can best help her in these circumstances.

So, as I stood by the grave of my friend Trudi, I was sobbing my heart out, knowing full well that I wasn't crying just for her. I was also crying for my father and for my mother, for all the losses in my life, for the imminent loss of Zuoz, and for the loss of another part of childhood that died with my friend. She and my father had been best friends as children, and I continued the relationship. At the same time I was also crying because I'll probably be back in this cemetery sooner than later, paying my last respects to my aunt. Although she also was very close to Trudi, she is much too frail to attend the ceremony, or to partake in the communal meal that followed.

Last night, waiting for my connecting train in Landquart, I ran into a woman I had just met the previous week, at the picnic of the Ladies' Gym. She lives in the house next to mine, yet, in the 18 months and countless events with that group, we had never met. We chit-chatted during the whole 90 minutes of train we had left. She was returning from visiting her elderly father in a nursing home in Zurich, and so many parallels were made. We parted at the mail boxes and I felt infinitely better than when I boarded the train in St. Gallen. Interestingly, as my friends Tom and Cathey pointed out, I seem so well integrated here, as I constantly run into people I know. Last Saturday, catching my bus after my long hike, I found that the driver was one of the students of the rumantsch class I had taken in the winter of 2010!

On another note: I did not get the job with the Oregon Community Foundation. On the advice of some of my readers I did send an email explaining that I was terribly nervous but would be a great employee... but it could not make up for my poor performance during the interview. I think that the only way I can get a job is by getting interview coaching. Of course I am disappointed since it would have been such a good match for me. At the same time, I am relieved that I don't have to organize a hastened return to the US together with the exit from Zuoz which is now taking all my energy. Fortunately at night I fall asleep quickly and deeply and in the morning I cannot get out of bed. I am giving myself some slack. I know that unconsciously I don't want to get up, because I don't want to face another day of dealing with the logistics of the move. So I am acknowledging it and often grant myself that extra half an hour of bliss between sleep and wakefulness.

Thank you for the notes of support you wrote as comments to the blog, or as personal emails. They do help and definitely make me feel less alone through this ordeal.


Ladies' Gym picnic - in style! The club owns a hut in the fields outside Zuoz.















Tschieva Hut, belonging to the Swiss Alpine Club. From there you climb Piz Bernina, via the famous Bianco ridge. If you look carefully (click on the picture for a full view) you can see a yellow mountain rescue helicopter hovering near the hut.











Zernez church ceiling, with a clearly Italian trend.
















The hamlet of Susauna, in the valley of the same name.

The sad end of the story

When I was getting ready to leave Oregon in January 2010 many friends thought that The Lemonade Project was really exciting and seemed envious of my opportunity to move to Switzerland. I acknowledge that indeed I was very lucky to have an alternative to collecting unemployment and to be able to live out my dream of living in the Engadin for a year. It was a rich and rewarding time. It allowed me to get to better know my American friends who visited me and to get reacquainted with old Swiss friends. There were many fun moments and I don't regret my decision to come here. However, in response to my friends' enthusiasm for my plans, I would point out that despite the attractiveness of the undertaking, it was not going to end well, since the purpose of it all was to sell my father's place, to clean it out and thus undo almost 50 years of family history in the valley. I am now walking away from memories of my mother, of course of my father, of my aunt as a much younger woman, of family friends long dead, of childhood with my sisters, of my own children learning to walk and discovering their Swiss roots.

I sold my father's apartment 2 days ago, and I have started the process of yielding it to the next owner. The closing date has not yet been set, but it is likely to be on August 5th, while my sisters and I will leave it forever on July 29. I don't know where I will be going after that. I am sad beyond description and I can't wait for my sister's arrival. For now grief and sadness are my only companions. It's unbearable.

At least I am again sleeping well. I had a terrible time getting over the jet lag, despite the fact that coming just from NY it should have been relatively easy. I would fall asleep, then wake up in the middle of the night, and not be able to go back to sleep, thinking about the difficulties of the weeks ahead. Thankfully I am now so exhausted, i.e. emotionally drained, that I fall asleep instantly and deeply despite dreams that thankfully I cannot remember in the morning.

Between my return and the confirmation of the sale of the apartment I had a sweet reprieve with the visit of Tom and Cathey from Portland/Lanciano. I once again played my favorite role - guide through my beloved town and favorite landscape. It felt awkward because I was myself getting reacquainted with the summer sights, the green fields undulating under the afternoon winds, the smells of the haying, the light, the noise of the river rushing by under my window at night - while at the same time I knew that I should detach myself from it all, since I am about to leave.

Last night I had a phone interview for a position with the Oregon Community Foundation. I am perfectly qualified for the job, but I was so nervous that I once again bungled the interview, stuttering, tripping over my words, leaving sentences unfinished... I hung up devastated. I have come to the conclusion that I'll need intensive one-on-one interview coaching to ever be able to land another job. I know I have good skills, I am getting interviews, but I just cannot get a job.

Talking about jobs: as I was strolling through St. Moritz with Tom and Cathey I decided to drop in at Hanselmann's to check on my former colleagues. The one who had consistently been so mean to me was there, feigning not to see me. When she could no longer ignore me she greeted me with the remark that I put on weight! So there you have it: Irene put on weight, thanks to the great food and generous drinks of her Oregon friends. Interestingly, the scale barely registers a difference though.

I am much worried about my aunt. I have not yet been able to see her, as she says that she doesn't have the energy for a visit. I'll make another attempt tonight. She now gets easily overwhelmed and I need to respect that. On the other hand I know that my visits are stimulating her and make her feel better.

I thought I would spend the first half of July hiking all over my favorite valleys, mountains, meadows... but so far I have not managed more than short walks or bike rides - it seems that all my energy was taken up first by getting ready for the interview, and now by preparing the move. I am hoping that one of these days I'll feel like I have the situation under control and can head out for some much needed change of scenery.


Summer in the Engadin: walking through the fields towards S-chanf














I took Tom and Cathey on one of my favorite hikes to the Val Fedoz.














Cars are not allowed in lateral valleys. Here is the parking lot of the hotel/restaurant at the back of the Val Roseg.













A baleful (!) walk between Zuoz and Madulain.