I have now been without a computer for over two weeks - hence still no pictures. I am slowly weaning myself from the internet, but it's hard to be disconnected at a time when I am rather fragile and could benefit from interactions with my friends- though the friends I do have the privilege of spending time with are going beyond the call of duty and helping me immensely with logistics, feeding me, counseling me, organizing relaxing activities. Since I am still having to rely on my friends' computers, I am definitely trying to minimize my online time, and monopolizing a computer long enough to write a page for this blog is a rare treat. Mostly I have a quick look at my email to make sure that no catastrophy has truck, and revert back to real life and real friends. I hope to bring my laptop to a IT man on Wednesday and with luck I'll be back online on a regular basis by the end of the week
It's already more than 2 weeks since Zuoz became history. After a few difficult and lonely days in the Neuchatel area I took off to the Valais, the Alps in the western part of Switzerland. Jacqueline (whom I met at the lab technician school in 1971) and her husband Andre welcomed me at their chalet in Lens, below Cran-Montana. Jacqueline prefers reading to hiking and therefore I alternated quiet times with her at the chalet with hikes with Andre between raindrops. The mediocre summer weather has not improved and it's a rare day when one can set out for a hike at high elevation with a certain degree of confidence with respect to the weather. The days in Lens were an opportunity to recenter myself and recover from the sadness of the loss of Zuoz. I didn't have to think, as Andre was mapping out the hikes and planning the menu. They took care of me, surrounding me with their support, good food and sense of humor.
With the end of Zuoz I lost my ability to plan. I am living one day at the time, and as a result I didn't even know for how long I would be gone from Neuchatel, or where exactly I would go from Lens. I was very pleased when an opportunity opened up to spend a few days with my sister Brigitte at her chalet near Villars. I was looking forward to go on a few good hikes with her and to spend quality time with her that did not involve packing up an apartment. We did have a few very relaxing days but the hikes were replaced with short walks - again because of the generally miserable weather. When we were at the end of our wits, Brigitte suggested an expedition down to the valley, to the shopping mall, to help me select a choice of clothes appropriate for the Queen Mary 2! Brigitte has great taste and a keen eye in the overwhelming selection of the shops. Since I have basically bought nothing since losing my job, I decided it was ok to splurge a bit. The summer sales are still on, so I am pleased with the end result. The spree was especially rewarding because here I actually can find clothes in the Ladies department, rather than in the kids section, like in the US.
We were driving back up the mountain, tired but pleased when the phone call came - signaling the end of my recovery time: my aunt, 93 years old had to be hospitalized.
She has no other relatives than me and my sisters, and my Australian sister and I are the closest to her. She is surrounded by a team of dedicated and reliable friends, which leads to a very confusing situation. This morning I called her rental agency to discuss the August payment, and found out that 2 of her friends had already called. My aunt doesn't have dementia, and therefore needs to make her own decisions, but because she is so weak she is having difficulties tracking things, which adds to the confusion. I visited her yesterday and the good news is that she is recovering and gaining strength. It is unlikely, however, that she will be able to return home - nor does she want to. She hopes to move into a retirement home and now the question is whether she will be able to regain enough strength to avoid the nursing home. Either way, it looks like we will clean out a 2nd apartment before I move back to the US! I was hoping to spend these last weeks in Europe visiting friends, socializing and hiking. At one point I was even planning a week long trek somewhere... but I had a premonition: I just couldn't make up my mind, couldn't decide, and in the end dropped the idea. Now I am so glad I have no set plans - other than board the ship to New York on September 20. Of course, I have taken out insurance for that trip!
Going forward I will travel to St. Gallen to see my aunt at least once a week. I pray that there will be some resolution before I have to leave. I would hate having to return to Switzerland soon after I arrive back in the US and as I am trying to rebuild my life there. But I will have no choice.
Meanwhile I am now staying with friends Anne-Marie (also from the lab technician school) and her husband Yvan. Anne-Marie is planning the meals and organizing R&R, which frees me to deal with my aunt's needs. Yesterday, after seeing her in the hospital I went to her apartment, retrieved her mail and spent most of this morning sifting through the bills, making calls to businesses and agencies about the new situation, etc.
Tomorrow Anne-Marie and I will go on a big hike in the Bernese Alps. Wednesday I move back to Le Landeron, Friday it's another trip to St. Gallen (3 hours by train, each way). Hopefully I'll soon have a working computer and can add pictures to this post. Indeed, despite the difficulties, there also are good times and they should not get lost amid the difficulties.
Thank you, Jacqueline and Andre, Brigitte, Francoise, Marlyse and Jacques, Anne-Marie and Yvan.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Stranded
July 31, 2011
Whatever the official posting date will show, this is when I wrote the text below, on paper with pencil because my computer no longer works. I don't know whether I got a virus, or whether the internet at my friends' doesn't work, or whether it's a combination of both - all I know is that I have my whole life on the computer, my July bank statement, the new life insurance policy that I didn't dare to look at before, my cookbook, and none is accessible. When you'll see this post I'll probably have borrowed a computer somewhere else, because all the computers in this house seem to have the same problem.
I am staying at the house of Marlyse and Jacques, in Le Landeron, near Neuchatel. Except that they are away on vacation. I am sharing the house with daughter Carole who is cramming for her finals for Med School, and son Gauthier who just returned from the US - together we are having fun chatting about New York City. The house of my sister Francoise's in-laws (one passed away in June, the other is in a nursing home) is just a 2 minutes walk from here, but this morning she and her husband drove up to their chalet with a first load of furniture from Zuoz. It's the First of August (Swiss Independence Day) long weekend, but I am not in the mood to celebrate anything. Everybody is gone or busy with family, and after 10 days with my sisters, I am once again alone - terribly so. I know I would feel much better if my computer worked and I could watch a movie, or play with my pictures, or, heaven forbid, balance my check book.
Of course, much has happened since I wrote the last post. The good news is that I found my passport - in the drawer next to where it should have been, under some papers. What a relief - and now I have to worry much less whether the government shuts down or not. The bad news is that there definitely isn't a job for me here in Switzerland. I am therefore on track to get on the boat (literally) on September 20 and to arrive in Portland on September 30. I'll get possession of my house on October 1. I am already in touch with a contractor about fixing up the house and I hope to be settled in by Christmas.
I won't dwell on the departure from Zuoz - because I can't. When the numbness subsides the sadness and the pain are unbearable. I can't write about it because I cry too much to see. Moving day was even worse than anticipated because of a dream I had about my parents during my last night there. Dad and I were hugging each other, he was crying too, because we both knew through what difficulties we were going to have to go together, to start with Mom's death. I still feel his arms around me. The sense if loss brought by the cleaning out of the apartment and the departure from Zuoz is bottomless. By tearing my Dad's place apart, I feel that I have violated him, everything he loved and stood for.
Believe me, I am trying. Trying to be grateful for all I had, my Dad for so many years, for the many hikes with him around Zuoz, for these last 18 months in his cozy apartment, for my sisters with whom I can still share all these memories, for the friends who have invited me to stay with them over the coming weeks. I am trying to look forward rather than dwell on the past.
So, here I am, in a village near Neuchatel. I love this area, between two lakes, nestled against vineyards, at the foot of the Jura mountains. To the south it's flat and this afternoon I took a long (for my standards) bike ride to the Peninsula (Ile St. Pierre) on which 18th century write and philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau lived for a while. There too, memories of outing as a family, and now, me alone, biking with a hole in my heart. For the first time I am feeling like an outsider, I don't belong anywhere.
At least I am enjoying the sunny and warm weather down here in the lowlands. In Zuoz the weather remained cloudy, rainy, cold - to the end. My sisters and I were planning to take a day off from packing and go on a hike - it never happened because the weather just wouldn't cooperate. One afternoon we went for a walk in the St. Moritz area. We never warmed up, despite parkas on top of fleece jackets.
I do need to mention the farewell party I treated myself to. My Zuoz colleague from the bakery and 11 ladies from the gym came, all with their good energy and sense of humor. My sisters helped to carry home the many bottles and the goodies, and did a great job preparing and hosting. The evening left me with warm feelings and invitations to use guest rooms.
It's hard to really understand and accept that there is nothing left in Zuoz to go back to, that the 46 years of family history intertwined with Zuoz are irrevocably over.
(No pictures for this post, since I can't get them onto the internet from my computer - maybe later).
Whatever the official posting date will show, this is when I wrote the text below, on paper with pencil because my computer no longer works. I don't know whether I got a virus, or whether the internet at my friends' doesn't work, or whether it's a combination of both - all I know is that I have my whole life on the computer, my July bank statement, the new life insurance policy that I didn't dare to look at before, my cookbook, and none is accessible. When you'll see this post I'll probably have borrowed a computer somewhere else, because all the computers in this house seem to have the same problem.
I am staying at the house of Marlyse and Jacques, in Le Landeron, near Neuchatel. Except that they are away on vacation. I am sharing the house with daughter Carole who is cramming for her finals for Med School, and son Gauthier who just returned from the US - together we are having fun chatting about New York City. The house of my sister Francoise's in-laws (one passed away in June, the other is in a nursing home) is just a 2 minutes walk from here, but this morning she and her husband drove up to their chalet with a first load of furniture from Zuoz. It's the First of August (Swiss Independence Day) long weekend, but I am not in the mood to celebrate anything. Everybody is gone or busy with family, and after 10 days with my sisters, I am once again alone - terribly so. I know I would feel much better if my computer worked and I could watch a movie, or play with my pictures, or, heaven forbid, balance my check book.
Of course, much has happened since I wrote the last post. The good news is that I found my passport - in the drawer next to where it should have been, under some papers. What a relief - and now I have to worry much less whether the government shuts down or not. The bad news is that there definitely isn't a job for me here in Switzerland. I am therefore on track to get on the boat (literally) on September 20 and to arrive in Portland on September 30. I'll get possession of my house on October 1. I am already in touch with a contractor about fixing up the house and I hope to be settled in by Christmas.
I won't dwell on the departure from Zuoz - because I can't. When the numbness subsides the sadness and the pain are unbearable. I can't write about it because I cry too much to see. Moving day was even worse than anticipated because of a dream I had about my parents during my last night there. Dad and I were hugging each other, he was crying too, because we both knew through what difficulties we were going to have to go together, to start with Mom's death. I still feel his arms around me. The sense if loss brought by the cleaning out of the apartment and the departure from Zuoz is bottomless. By tearing my Dad's place apart, I feel that I have violated him, everything he loved and stood for.
Believe me, I am trying. Trying to be grateful for all I had, my Dad for so many years, for the many hikes with him around Zuoz, for these last 18 months in his cozy apartment, for my sisters with whom I can still share all these memories, for the friends who have invited me to stay with them over the coming weeks. I am trying to look forward rather than dwell on the past.
So, here I am, in a village near Neuchatel. I love this area, between two lakes, nestled against vineyards, at the foot of the Jura mountains. To the south it's flat and this afternoon I took a long (for my standards) bike ride to the Peninsula (Ile St. Pierre) on which 18th century write and philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau lived for a while. There too, memories of outing as a family, and now, me alone, biking with a hole in my heart. For the first time I am feeling like an outsider, I don't belong anywhere.
At least I am enjoying the sunny and warm weather down here in the lowlands. In Zuoz the weather remained cloudy, rainy, cold - to the end. My sisters and I were planning to take a day off from packing and go on a hike - it never happened because the weather just wouldn't cooperate. One afternoon we went for a walk in the St. Moritz area. We never warmed up, despite parkas on top of fleece jackets.
I do need to mention the farewell party I treated myself to. My Zuoz colleague from the bakery and 11 ladies from the gym came, all with their good energy and sense of humor. My sisters helped to carry home the many bottles and the goodies, and did a great job preparing and hosting. The evening left me with warm feelings and invitations to use guest rooms.
It's hard to really understand and accept that there is nothing left in Zuoz to go back to, that the 46 years of family history intertwined with Zuoz are irrevocably over.
(No pictures for this post, since I can't get them onto the internet from my computer - maybe later).
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