Lemonade Project

The journey goes on

2011-10-07T17:41:00.000-07:00

I landed in Portland exactly one week ago. I thought I was coming home, but during the course of the week I had to admit to myself that the journey has not yet ended. I am in Portland, staying at Marianne's house until my own house will be fixed up and I don't anticipate moving in before the holidays. This means that it will be many more weeks before I am in my own home and can really resume my life - whatever that will be.

New York was another good transition between Switzerland and the permanent return to Portland. Unfortunately I didn't get to spend much time with Eric, as he now has a full time job. Still, we had evenings, and, sweet and kind as ever, he accompanied me to the subway to JFK. I used my time in New York to start organizing my Portland life. Got a prepaid cell phone, which gives me a reprieve on deciding on a cell phone plan. Spent hours surfing the web looking at cars, subscribed to Consumer Report to ensure that whichever car I am getting will not be a lemon - and I narrowed it down to 3 cars, which I test drove this week. Today I decided which car I am going to get and now I am working on getting the best possible deal and finding the cash to pay for it - for, because I don't have a job, I don't qualify for any kind of financing. Once I have wheels my life will become much simpler and I'll be much more autonomous. For now I have been depending on my friends and on my feet for transportation.

I landed in Portland on Friday at 6pm, and on Saturday morning at 10am I met with a contractor at my house. The house is in reasonably good order, except for the yard, which has reverted to a jungle. The bids for the various jobs are coming in, and by next week I should have an idea of how much fixing up the house will cost me. I feel we are off to a good start. I like my contractor, a woman who actually is listening to what I want. It also is wonderful to have a general contractor, as opposed to dealing myself with all the various tradesmen, as I had to do with my 2004 remodel.

So, on one hand I am feeling at home, and on the other, I am living out of a suitcase. My belongings are right here, but still not accessible. I miss warm sweaters, the muffin tins to bake hiking snacks, the gardening tools. Though I will retrieve these as soon as I have a car. I intend to spend as much time as possible at my house, starting to prune, and trim and yank... I have started to change my address back to my own house - an important step to release my friend Ernst from his mailbox responsibilities and to reclaim my independence on that front as well.

This week also has been very busy on the social side. Marianne is now partly retired, and we already have spent more time together than during my previous month-long stays. We did a great hike, leaving on foot from her house, up and down the forested hills to the north - in the rain. Indeed, this is full immersion into the Pacific-Northwest. The rains started the day after my arrival and I am yet to see the sun. On the plus side, I already witnessed spawning salmon, a sight which always fills me with awe.

On Monday I returned to my aquarobics class, receiving a warm welcome from the pool ladies. On Tuesday I went to yoga, to the studio, the teacher and the yogini I have been with for over 10 years. It was good both for my body and my soul, and Hannah's soup after the class was soothing on all levels. Wednesday night was the monthly meeting of the High Desert Committee. Borden took me car shopping, allowed me to treat him for dinner, took me to the meeting and drove me back home afterwords. I don't know how much time I'll be able to spend volunteering since I don't yet know what my life will entail, but I like being pulled back into the community and the opportunity to once again become an active member. Last night was Italian book club, a group as vibrant as ever. The reading was preceded by a soup as heart-warming as the hugs.

Since I am impatient to move back into my house and lead an independent life, but since it won't happen for quite a while, I decided that the best way to deal with it was to consider the next few weeks as part of the adventure, part of the journey, part of the Lemonade Project. I thought that this post would be the last one, but in view of the above, there will be one more when I move back into the house. I will not bore you with the ups and downs of my re-entry into my Portland life in this blog. However, I am looking forward to resuming a personal relationship with my readers in the Portland area, and a personal email correspondence with my European friends. I have some 500 unanswered emails in my inbox, accumulated during the many weeks during which I did not have regular access to the internet. Please be patient - I will get to it in time.

Thank you to my friends who have made this week bearable: Marianne for the generous sharing of the house, Rachel, Borden and Jon for the help with car buying; Hannah and Cathey for soups, Jody, Ric and Sandy for rides. Thank you Martin for the invitation to dinner and thank you all for the welcome home messages and calls. You are the ones who make it worthwhile coming back. I am looking forward to living once again in your community.

Time Out

2011-09-28T05:26:00.000-07:00

I am writing at the dining room table at Eric and Pam's apartment in New York City. The room is dark because Pam is still sleeping and the air conditioner hums like the ship's engines. I am holding on tight, as the whole room is rocking and spinning. During the last few days at sea I sometimes would forget that I am on a ship, as my brain and body had adjusted to the continuous movement. Now, on land, I am feeling worse than on the roughest days, my whole system adjusting to the stillness of my new environment.

I boarded the ship at noon in Southampton on September 20th, and I disembarked at 11am, yesterday, September 27. This passage, in all the senses of the word, was one of the best things I ever did for myself. On a superficial level, of course, I had the time of my life. I had been dreaming of crossing the Atlantic on an ocean liner since I was a child, and I now was living the romance and the glamor of sailing on a beautiful ship. However, my soul and my heart were cruising on an equally powerful journey. Over the last 35 years I must have flown across the Atlantic on average once a year. I have much complained about the long journey, and I have boasted about the pleasing effects of happy pills, which make the trip feel short and painless. During all those years I had no idea of how big the Atlantic Ocean really is. The journey lasted 6 days and 7 nights.

A ship like the Queen Mary 2 offers innumerable distractions and opportunities to kill time. I hardly had time to partake in any of them. For me it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to do nothing, or to have nothing that needed to be done. Every night I would circle on the daily program various enriching activities. In the end I spent much time just being, staring out at the water, processing this new turn in my life, trying to let Europe, Zuoz, the bakery and my aunt go, trying not to worry about my new life.

Out of over 2,000 passengers, we were just about 100 single travelers - meaning it was impossible to spot them between the 13 decks and some 1,000 feet in length. I had boarded with no expectations of finding a buddy. All I was hoping for was a daily yoga class, and interesting companions at the dinner table. I ended up taking 2 yoga classes, one with each of the 2 instructors. They were ok, it felt good to stretch and move, but they were expensive (as almost everything on board) and of course could not be compared to the quality of Jim's classes. I can't wait to return to my Portland yoga studio! The dinner table, however, was a total success. I was seated at a round table (one of the few in the dining room) with 8 other Swiss, 4 German speaking, 4 French speaking, but all more or less bilingual. One of the "couples" were two men, members of what should have been a group of 6 friends traveling together. Dinners were fun and lively, with the service of the most delightful waiter who had to kick us out each night long after all the other tables were empty to make room for the 2nd dinner service. I would periodically run into one or the other of these couples during the day, have breakfast with these, a cup of coffee with those, go on a "date" to the planetarium , or to the nightly show, or for drinks after the show. It was perfect, as I never felt lonely, but had plenty time for myself alone nevertheless. My table companions were well-traveled, like me younger than the average passengers on the ship, down to earth and playing the glitz game with grace and humor.

The fellow passengers were indeed predominantly retired people, many quite old, and therefore the pace on the ship was very slow, as many had problems walking, all the more so on a rolling ship. Many times I had to slow down my brisk natural pace to wait for a widening in the hallway or the deck to be able to pass an elderly couple. It was a healthy exercise for me: whatever my impatience and my haste, we were all going to get to New York at the same time. So I have promised myself that I will endeavor to keep this feeling on land. I will die when my time comes, no matter how frantically I rush through life. I might as well slow down and enjoy the ride - at least until I find the proverbial job that will put me back into the rat race.

Eric picked me up at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. It was wonderful seeing him, hugging him, giving him a big kiss. What better welcome back to America!

Eric already tinkered with my computer, and I am happy to post a few pictures of this unforgettable journey.

Pictures:

Is she gorgeous or what?

The Grand Foyer. This is where one enters the ship, the first impression of the ship. It is in all the senses of the word, out of this world, a microcosm of wealth, civility, courtesy, peace and quiet.

Leaving Southampton. The orchestra on deck 6 is playing New York, among many other tunes to set the right mood

Glamor Irene on her last night on the ship. Dress code was casual elegant. I dressed early and treated myself to a maitai in the piano bar, all by myself, listening to the music and staring at the water.

My ship is coming

2011-09-12T11:55:00.000-07:00

I returned from St. Gallen on Saturday night. Yesterday I rested, today I dealt with various personal business, paying bills, picking up the ticket for the trip on the Queen Mary, stocking up on chocolates; tomorrow it's the last trip to St. Gallen to say goodbye to my aunt.

Fortunately one doesn't have to do too often in a lifetime what I went through last week. Having moved my father to a nursing home, and later having watched him die, and now having moved my aunt, I am coming to the conclusion that it's easier to be watching over a dying elderly loved one. The physical work of sorting, packing, moving, carrying, all the items covered with dust accumulated over weeks, and sometimes over decades, the worrying about the physical and emotional well being of the loved one being uprooted and thrown into new surroundings and a new life over which she doesn't have much control, the grieving for the loved one who is no longer the person one was used to, and finally, the grieving for the loss of the last bit of childhood, all the memories dug up in the cleaning out of the apartment... thank God one doesn't have to go through this too often because it's unbearable. I have now cleaned out 4 homes in less than 3 years, two within 2 months. It's too many in too short a time. I trust that I'll never have to do it again.

It all went as well as possible. The retirement home is beautiful, clean, full of light. My aunt's room is big, bright, with just about the same beautiful view as she had from her home. It's large enough to fit all the furniture she was hoping to bring along, as well as her favorite art. The staff is kind, patient and understanding. Still, despite the fact that she understands the impossibility of her now living alone at home, and despite the fact that she wanted to come here, she also knows that this now is her universe until she dies. She knows all she has lost, first of all her independence, the ability to come and go as she pleases. Also very hard on me is the fact that I now have been visiting her once a month for almost two years, cooking for her, shopping for her, looking after her, making her laugh, and I feel like I am abandoning her by returning to my own life. She has become emotionally dependent on me, and I am feeling terrible leaving her. Yet, I must live my own life, whatever it will be. I am dreading tomorrow, I will need all the strength and courage I can muster.

The following 2 days will be spent sorting my own belongings and preparing for shipping everything but the content of one suitcase - which content will have to suffice until the shipment arrives, probably sometime in November. A couple of dinner dates with friends, and then it's my last weekend in Switzerland. The plans are still hazy, as I am hoping to spend it with my sisters, but their own plans are still fluid. Monday I will travel to Geneva for my last night in Switzerland, on Tuesday I'll travel to London to board the ship. Returning by boat is the best decision I have made: for one week I won't have either email or a phone, nobody can find me and upset the peace and quiet I will seek during the journey. I can truly transition from my Swiss life to whatever is expecting me in the United States.

Today I picked up my ticket and finally got the entertainment program of the trip. There'll be a masquerade - and let me tell you that 6 days before sailing my mind is focused on other issues than costumes and masks and other such frivolities!

Once again, thank you for your supportive emails and comments. My computer time is very limited and I can respond only to the most urgent messages. Writing a page for my blog is a rare treat - thank you Carole for lending me your computer!

My Place

2011-09-05T05:15:00.000-07:00

It's a rare quiet day. I am stocking up on strength for this week's job: tomorrow I'll travel to St. Gallen and stay there until Saturday. My aunt has miraculously recovered and is getting stronger by the day. Her mind has cleared, she is again walking and she is actively participating in her imminent move to the retirement home. She still is in the hospital, taking advantage of the good care she is getting there, the physical therapy, the well-balanced meals, the adjusted meds. Her breathing is the best it's been since I arrived in Switzerland and her anxiety level has decreased accordingly. She definitely is strong enough to avoid the nursing home and is therefore moving to the retirement home in her neighborhood where her friends and neighbors will easily be able to visit. She is actually looking forward to it. The situation couldn't be any better. I have been visiting her once a week, each time also going to her apartment to check the mail and make phone calls to deal with her impending move. I have visited the retirement home, talked to the director, seen her banking advisor. Her friends are a great support, also for me, giving me rides, inviting me for meals when I stay overnight. The moving van arrives tomorrow afternoon, on Wednesday we move her, and then my sisters and I have another 3 days to clear out her apartment. It will be hard to leave her, but right now I feel that she is doing so well that she'll live to be 100 and I am confident that I'll see her again.

Oops... got carried away... It is true that my aunt is front and fore in my mind. When I return from St. Gallen on Saturday I'll have just one more week in Switzerland and will have to deal with my own move back to the US, the sorting and shipping of my goods. I was hoping to surf the internet to find a car to purchase upon my arrival in Portland, but obviously I didn't have the means nor the time to do that and so will have to deal with it when I arrive.

The last 3 weeks have been a mixture of sad, emotional, but also warm, fun and rewarding times. My aunt's illness has been difficult for me, both from an emotional and a logistical point of view. My body paid the price for the tension, and I had to add Neuchatel to the list of places in the world where I had to find a chiropractor. As always, she did her magic and I am now pain free. These people are the best!

Also among the best is the Aubert family with whom I am staying. They are letting me stay in a huge room where I am very comfortable. They are increasingly feeling like family. I am free to come and go as I please, there never is any pressure to stay or to go. I am welcome at the family table whenever. I am invited to go out with them, or to stay when they have guests. In addition to generous and healthy meals, they provide counseling and moral support. I am also getting to know them better. I am contributing when and where I can. Several times I acted as a patient for daughter Carole's practice for her finals for medical school. I spent a morning translating cases from her English book so that non-English speaking friends could also be mock patients. It is a pleasure to observe how well father and daughter are working together - first Jacques, the father, with his own GP practice helping her with the exercises for her finals, and now the daughter, who tomorrow night after the last exam will be legally allowed to practice medicine, helping Dad in his office while he is hobbling around on crutches after breaking a leg in a biking accident...

Unfortunately I still can't post pictures to this blog, since I cannot download them from my camera onto someone else's computer. Perhaps I'll retroactively add some pics to the posts once I am in New York. I can already see that my stay in New York will be way too short. I can't wait to be sailing past the Statue of Liberty on my majestic ocean liner, and to be greeted by Eric at the harbor!

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, and since there won't be any pictures for now, I am condemned to write. The weather has been mostly good since my last post and there have been many pleasant hours in beautiful areas in great company: Eliane took me swimming in Lake Neuchatel of which the temperature had risen to 23 C (73 F). When I was a kid we were not allowed to swim in the lake because it was too polluted. Swimming pools had been built here and there on the shore. They are now all gone, because the water, thanks to sewage treatment plants, is once more clear and absolutely safe.

Anne-Marie took me on another great hike, near Interlaken. We gained most of the elevation with a cable car, and before starting off, enjoyed a coffee in the garden of one of these mountain restaurants, with views over to the Bernese Alps, Interlaken, the lakes of Thun and Brienz... all just like on the postcard. I traveled to Basel, where I had not been since I was 16 years old. There I visited friend Denise with whom I had worked in the early 70s in Geneva. We had taken several trips together, Spain, Algeria, Greece... and now had 35 years worth of catching up to do. She showed me the old part of Basel, a very beautiful city, but we spent most of our precious time together on her deck, chatting. It is so rewarding to reconnect with friends when they have had a good life, and are well and happy. Basel is a very rich city, where several Swiss pharmaceutical companies have their headquarters, and as a consequence has a number of famous museums... none of which I had the time to visit.

Periodically I am seeing my sisters, one, or the other, or both, here in Le Landeron, or in the mountains. It is always fun and warm and I will miss them terribly when our ways will part once again. Brigitte and I finally managed to go on a good hike together, catching a nice day. There have been a number of spectacularly violent thunder storms, with dramatic drops in temperatures and fresh snow almost down to the tree line. I experienced one of these storms in the tiny chalet of friend Pierre, above Neuchatel. Thank God for stringent construction codes. Sheets of rain were blown across the porch, lightning crisscrossing the sky turned dark way before nightfall. An impressive show. The storms have ushered in fall. The forest has started to turn, the yellow jackets are out in droves. The light has a new softness - which I enjoyed all day Saturday hiking with Pierre along the Doubs, the river marking the border north of Neuchatel between Switzerland and France. Numerous herons, swans, king fishers, a peregrine falcon, fish jumping. This is the Jura, less dramatic than the Alps, but dearly loved and appreciated by us, the locals. Pasture land cut into sections by stone walls, dotted with the characteristic huge hemlocks.

Next picture: a trip to the Geneva area, a lovely day with Paul, taking the boat over to the medieval city of Yvoire on the French side, and saying goodbye. Our paths had crossed once again after meeting in Canada 35 years ago, and now life is again taking us back to our respective countries, he to Canada, I to the US. We were at opposite ends of the country and didn't see each other often, but during the difficult months when I as slaving away at the bakery, he was a skype lifeline.

Last but not least, yesterday, a rainy day with Christiane and Gilbert. Picnic on a bench a mere 5 minutes from the car just before it started to pour for good, and then the afternoon in the museum Latenium, which didn't exist when I was a kid. During the construction of the freeway they found innumerable artifacts from life along the lake dating back several thousands of years. Christiane, a retired teacher, did a great guiding job, picking out the key information, explaining...

Almost 40 years ago I left Neuchatel in search of new horizons, finding Neuchatel boring, attracted by exotic landscapes and cultures. I have never spent as much time in the Neuchatel area since I was 19, and now I am discovering that this actually is not only a very beautiful area, but also very rich in history, culture, arts, as well as in smart, educated, interesting and dedicated people helping the region flourish. I could have found right here what I went searching all over the world.

Complications

2011-08-15T08:34:00.000-07:00

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.

Stranded

2011-08-03T02:03:00.000-07:00

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).

Twist

2011-07-23T05:23:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-15T08:10:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-06T06:10:00.000-07:00

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.

From Coast to Coast

2011-06-29T01:47:00.000-07:00

I got back to Zuoz from New York yesterday in the early afternoon. Once I cleared the hell of Newark airport the trip was easy - only 7 1/2 hours on the plane, and only 3 trains from the airport to Zuoz. The perpetual Newark zoo was exacerbated by the United/Continental merger. The reader board indicating the terminals ran out of room after Washington, i.e. my flight to Zurich didn't fit. Fortunately a pilot was riding in my section of the Air Train and told me that although my flight was a United fight, I had to check in at the Continental Terminal. However not at the Continental check-in, but in a far off section specific to United... I made my flight thanks to an attendant who let me cut most of the security line!

My brain is shrouded in the jet lag fog and I am having difficulties putting my thoughts together. Part of my head still is in the US - it truly was a wonderful trip. I got to enjoy my friends instead of worrying about my life - a great break. Also, after so much togetherness, time with family and friends, it is an adjustment to again be alone. Not for long though, as tomorrow I am expecting Cathey and Tom, whom I visited in Lanciano.

The remaining days in Portland were spent like all, seeing more friends and doing last-minute shopping. I feel bad because I didn't manage to see all the folks I would have liked to see. Please forgive me for not calling you. The only reason is that I ran out of time. Marianne and I finally spent a whole day together, just the two of us. We weeded her yard and I tried not to think about the state of my yard, just a mile from her house... Under her influence I spent too much at the Columbia Sportswear store... but it's all such cool stuff! We ended the day with a walk up to Angel's Rest in the Columbia Gorge - which entailed me trying to keep up with her - and failing to do so!

I spent a fun day with Larry. We had planned on climbing Saddle Mountain, one of my favorite hikes in the spring because of the wide variety of wildflowers, but the access road was closed. So we had to improvise and as a result I discovered some new places on the coast: Sunset Beach and Fort Clatsop where I became painfully aware of how quickly I am forgetting Oregon history. Copper River salmon, Sauvignon Blanc from friend Guy's vineyard and slides of the Owyhee capped off the day.

My stay in Oregon ended unexpectedly. I was flying to New York on a red-eye and had planned on spending my last day packing, cleaning, relaxing. However, Marianne's brother flew in from Geneva the night before for a conference but had nothing to do on Wednesday. For those who don't know Marianne's story: she grew up on my street in Neuchatel, but we met in a supermarket in Beaverton in the fall of 1986. However, I did know her younger brother Eric when we were kids. So I treated myself to a day downtown, playing tour guide, showing Eric my favorite places, from the Pearl to the Waterfront, via Powell's, of course.

New York was a delight. Perfect weather all along. Of course I was sad leaving Portland, but also so much looking forward to finally see Eric again. An added bonus was Claire's invitation to have breakfast with her. She had spent the previous week in New York and was leaving one hour after my planned arrival - and we made it. Eric and Pam were perfect hosts, tolerating the invasion of their privacy with much patience. We had fun the 3 of us together, playing frisbee in Cental Park, catching up with Eric's dance partner and roommate Kerry, playing games. Eric took responsibility for most of the meals and it was fun to see him develop his domestic side - great cooking! Because of Pam's dance commitments, Eric and I also had time for just the two of us, and made great use of it: Governor's Island, a 3-minute ferry ride from Battery Park, on an overcast Friday. There were very few people, it was a quiet and relaxed day, and we explored the island on free rental bikes! On Sunday we headed to his former neighborhood near Union Square and stumbled onto the Pride Parade. The state of New York had just enacted a gay marriage law, and the parade became a moving (in both senses of the term) celebration. On the day I flew back to Switzerland we had time for a last trip downtown to walk the High Line, a linear park on an old train track, that just got extended 3 weeks ago.

The big news is that I think I sold the apartment! I accepted an offer by email, and today I hope to meet with my realtor to sign the papers. Until then I don't dare cancel the utilities, the insurances, etc. No news on the job front. I am finding myself checking my email way too often, hoping for some progress.

Thanks:

- JoAnn for driving me to and from the pool. It was good to get some exercise to metabolize all the delicious food and libations.
- Thea: for making the best of a rainy Saturday afternoon. Too bad the hot tub wasn't an option!
- Larry: for being a patient tour guide and driver.
- Jon and Merrie: for a perfect day.
- Regna: for indulging a trip through the lingerie department and the final drop-off at the airport.
- Marianne: for making me feel at home in your house.
- Eric and Pam: for graciously sharing your new and beautiful apartment.

Pictures:

The Columbia River from Angels Rest. Portland is in the far distance.

The Statue of Liberty from Governor's Island.

Eric on the High Line. A short section has water running over the pavers. It's very refreshing to walk it barefoot.

Pride Parade.

Wrapping it up

2011-06-17T10:51:00.000-07:00

Not much quiet time to write, and I am afraid that there isn't much exciting to write about as I am now well settled into the routine of visiting . Today is one of the first nice days, and I am hoping to finally wear some of the summer clothes I brought to the US. So far I have constantly worn the one pair of jeans I took from Zuoz and Marianne's sweaters and long-sleeved t-shirts! The thermometer has rarely risen above 70 (which is 20 C for my Swiss readers).

I am spending most of my time meeting up with old friends, and catching up. The boring part is repeating my story, but then I get to hear their stories, always new and interesting. The privileged visits are those when we actually get to do something together, like a hike (Hamilton Mountain in the Columbia Gorge with Rachel), or, of course, a whole weekend in Sonoma with Claire. The many conversations also work as therapy for me. As I am telling my story over and over, it takes on a life of its own, becomes detached from me and my emotions, and this distance is allowing me 1. to see more clearly, and 2. to look at it all with interest and wonderment, rather than just freaking out at the uncertainty of my life.

On the outside not much has changed since my last post. The apartment in Switzerland still hasn't sold and we have some major decisions to make. The plan still is to clean it out next month. I still don't have any plans as to what I'll do when we are done with the job, simply because I just can't make plans. Yesterday I submitted an application for a position with the Oregon Community Foundation. I have the skills and the experience for the job and I think I have a good chance of getting it. That would mean a quick departure from Switzerland, probably as soon as early August. The Swiss job still is pending too, so staying also is a good possibility. Default, i.e. I don't find a job, still is to return to Portland on September 15th. I was not planning to look for work here during this visit, but when I saw the posting I just couldn't ignore it. It's the perfect job for me, and I am the perfect candidate for the position.

Sonoma with Claire was relaxing, low-key, perfect. Neither one of us had ever been there. We rented a car at the airport. Not having been at the wheel for over a year I let her drive while navigating us through rush-time traffic. The fact that she knows the city really well helped, except that she found out that getting around in a car is very different from walking! Once we were in more laid-back Sonoma I mustered the courage to drive, Claire navigating with her iPhone, which I would have been incapable of doing. The highlight was coming back into the city, across the Golden Gate Bridge, for once enjoying the very slow pace caused by the heavy Sunday night traffic. I discovered the existence of the Golden Gate Bridge in grade 4, and this is when I decided that one day I would travel and see the world. Despite my repeated visits to San Francisco, I still get emotional when I cross the bridge.

On the way out of the city we decided to take advantage of the fact that for once we had a car to check out something interesting on the way, and I proposed the San Pablo Bay National Wildlife Refuge, in the North Bay. DO NOT PLAN TO VISIT THIS REFUGE. It is merely a pull-out along the highway and we didn't recognize it as possibly being the Refuge as we first drove by. By the time we knew we missed it, we were not able to make a U-turn until we arrived to the next town (Vallejo), some 10 miles down the road. Along the highway, driving at 55mph with the rest of the traffic we could see egrets and pelicans from the corner of our eyes and were looking forward to checking out the wildlife viewing area which we had missed earlier. We were so disappointed: the noise from the highway prevented us from hearing any birds (there were supposed to be clapper rails), and the short trail led across a dry and garbage-strewn field. Desperate we tried to bushwhack to find water, but only got mired in mud.

We opted to explore the wine country on rented bicycles, on a relatively flat route. Despite Sonoma being just a little over one hour's drive from San Francisco, we enjoyed not being in the car. Unfortunately Claire turned out to be very allergic to some of the local grasses, and so the next day we decided to head out to Point Reyes, which I had wanted to explore for a long time. The fog cleared just as we hit the coast. We drove all the way out to the lighthouse, checked it out, and headed for Stinson Beach where we finally were able to take a walk on the beach, without Claire sneezing. I had forgotten the noise of the pounding surf and the pungent smell of the Ocean - we sat for a long time on a rock, taking it all in, watching the tide come in.

Thanks:

- Marianne: for being such an easy-going host, for chasing me up Council Crest.
- Katharine and Byron: for lunch, your flexibility and driving me all over the place.
- Kathy: for your trust and generosity in lending us your gorgeous and peaceful apartment in Sonoma
- Linda: for lunch in one of my favorite restaurants (Marco's in Multnomah Village) and the ride to the dentist.
- Beth: for rides to yoga and the tips and encouragement to really work that job application.
- Pat: for being my unconditional professional cheerleader for over 2 years. For encouraging me to see the bigger picture.
- Jody: for organizing coffee with the pool ladies and for returning from the pool to pick me up despite the fact that I didn't contact her! What did I do to deserve such loyalty and service?
- Ernst: for accepting to keep on serving as my trusted mailbox despite the repeated extensions. For the good food and wine (the noodles were just fine!).
- Claire: for a very relaxing mother/daughter weekend. I treasure every minute we get to spend together.
- Rachel: for a day amid wildflowers, for identifying them, and for the stroll in historic downtown Camas.
- Randy: for making time to catch up despite the pressures of the legislative session.
- Jill and family: for a simple and warm time all together. It felt like family. Thanks for letting me use your printer.
- Bill: for lunch and half a life time of friendship.
- Ricardo: for lunch and keeping an eye on my lawn mower!
- Ron and Ria: for keeping scores (and for the rides, the home-cooked meal, the laughs)
- last but not least: Peg, for being persistent, for keeping on trying to reach me on the phone.

Mother and daughter hiked up to a viewpoint above Sonoma.

Taking in the Pacific Ocean.

I am doing it: driving across the Golden Gate Bridge!

Mt. Adams from the Hamilton Mountain trail, in the Columbia River Gorge.

Back in the USA

2011-06-05T15:30:00.000-07:00

Just finished a great cup of coffee. I am at Marianne's, it's an unusual and quiet afternoon "at home." "Home" is a rather complex notion these days. My home is just a few blocks to the west. But no, my home is in Zuoz, except that right now it's here, at Marianne's. It actually feels very much like home. Her house is a great fit for me, right size, right feel, right amount of time of being here alone and time with her. I'd love more time with her, but we both are very busy, and I'd rather regret that we don't spend more time together than being too much on top of each other. Both of us are used to much space and independence. It's the perfect set up for me - I hope it works equally well for her.

My Portland household is in storage. I set up a new household in Zuoz. The other day I was buying some food to take on a trip. I was about to grab some nuts when I remembered that I have plenty of nuts at home... until I snapped back into reality and realized that the nuts are in Zuoz!

All my friends want to know what my plans are, when I am coming back to live here. Thanks to the warm welcome I very quickly felt reintegrated into my Portland life. People also are curious about how it feels to be back. It feels so normal, so easy, so much like my life. And then I remember that although odds are that I will return permanently mid-September, it's not a done deal and there still is a good possibility that I'll stay in Switzerland - if I find a good job. I saw my financial adviser, and he painted a rather spartan picture of a potential early retirement. So finding work still is a high priority. Between not knowing where home is, and not knowing what tomorrow will look like, despite the fact that I like planning and certainties, I am very much having to learn to live in the present. It feels frivolous and irresponsible, but the happy-go-lucky attitude certainly has its advantages - sparing me from a lot of agonizing.

What can I write about my stay in Portland so far? There isn't much to write about, since it's "just" coming home. I don't like this blog to be a boring compilation of my activities but that's what will have to do for today.

The trip over was hell, 28 hours in total. The only redeeming factor was an absolutely wonderful Swiss attendant in Chicago who went well beyond her duty in making sure I somehow got to Portland. It's terribly embarrassing having to ask friends to pick you up at the airport in the middle of the night - but Ron did so very gracefully. Despite my exhaustion I couldn't sleep between Chicago and Portland because it was so cold on the plane - at one point my teeth were chattering, despite 2 layers of fleece. Lo and behold, I came down with a cold a couple of days later.

Between the jetlag, the cold and the horrible weather my first few days here were laid back. Joe provided the perfect resting place, his cozy home at Black Butte. We birded a little, walked a little, hiked some, but spent plenty of time in front of the blazing fire, playing gin.

The mammogram was fine, always a relief, and there still is hope that the dental work will not be as extensive as I feared, although I have to go back on Tuesday and he will have to numb me up before he can figure out exactly what's going on.

My yoga group had a little party for me after the class; next week I will go for coffee with the pool ladies; I went to the Sierra Club High Desert Committee meeting to see the fellow desert rats. I am just returning from a weekend in the John Day country with some of them, staying with Anne who now lives there. We finally had a couple of sunny days and roamed around in our favorite landscape. We saw a snake, a scorpion, found a fossilized tooth. Everywhere there is flooding because of the non-stop rain over the last few months. The John Day, the Sandy, the Columbia... all the rivers are high. If only we could send some of that water to parched Switzerland!

Thank you:

- Ron, for the late night pick-up at the airport. Thank you Ria for being on stand-by.
- Marianne, for the hospitality, the coffee, the laundry facilities, etc.
- Catherine, for a gourmet lunch and for driving me around for an afternoon.
- Joe, for your kindness and offering the perfect setting for recovery.
- Dory, for a great walk along the Willamette.
- Beth, for the ride to yoga.
- Jim Gillen and the Tuesday night yoginis for the welcoming party. Namaste.
- Hannah for coffee, the ride home and letting me get caught up on your life.
- Jody, for the ride to and from the pool.
- Sandy for the cup of tea, Ken for the ride in the Miata (!)
- Bill, for the Y2Y book. These pictures alone are enough to make me want to return to America!
- Rustica for taxi service and dinner.
- Velma for a great day: brunch, walk, errands.
- Martin and Laurie, for still being my family.
- Anne, for the warm hospitality in Fossil.
- Borden, Rustica and Heidi: for putting together the perfect weekend.

Pictures:

Tomb at Camp Polk Cemetery, near Sisters. Very interesting and colorful.

On the Metolius Bridge at Camp Sherman. I am wearing Marianne's too big sweater because I didn't bring enough warm clothes.

Hiking among Painted-Hills like formations. They contain mammal fossils. Near the Twickenham bridge over the John Day River.

The bar was a great reflection of the John Wayne movie playing on the screen.

Present perfect

2011-05-21T06:50:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-11T07:10:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-03T04:31:00.000-07:00

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

Made it.

2011-04-26T10:56:00.002-07:00

Today was my last day of work at the bakery, patisserie (cakes), confiserie (chocolates), restaurant. I thought that at the end of the day I'd be leaping out of the shop but instead it was more of a crawl, accompanied by a huge sigh of relief. Today was as insane as any other day - hard to believe how bad it was.

The day started off well. I jumped out of bed, excited because this was my last day. Caught the 6:57am train as usual and admired the early sun painting pink the tall snowy mountains. Lake St. Moritz, now ice-free, was like a mirror, reflecting trees and mountains.

The store and restaurant are closed as of today, and we had the day to clean the whole house. We started with a communal breakfast - a nice idea. Except that I had heard about it from a colleague, in a rather haphazard way. There was no note or official announcement about this breakfast and so many didn't know about it, and missed it. Each team then went off to clean their area: the waitresses the restaurant, the kitchen staff the kitchen, and us, the sales ladies, the store.

There was no plan for the cleaning, or list of the tasks to be performed. Those who had done it in previous years, went to work, and us, the newcomers, got going on a task or another, unsure of what actually had to be cleaned - or how. We took down all the shelves, washed all the walls, the cash registers, and, of course the floors. I began by moping up the gallon of water that had trickled down from the kitchen above. The vacuum cleaner broke down before the waitresses were done with it. The thorough scrubbing allowed a close look at how run down the whole place is - even the store. The most insane part was scrubbing the floor - on my hands and knees! Fortunately I had my rubber gloves, but the others cleaned all day without.

For the first time ever, we all had our break at the same time, and for the first time ever, we all went for a cup of coffee at the cafe next door. An elderly couple, former clients of ours, were there too. I briefly chatted with them and they confided that they no longer come to the bakery/restaurant because too often they had bad food, and the staff was not friendly. Not that I needed to be told...

Mid-morning I saw a crate full of left over chocolate Easter bunnies in the staff room. I was tempted to grab one, but refrained, naively thinking that they would be divided up between all of us. A short while later a colleague went looking for them - and they were all gone, taken by the kitchen staff. The cakes that had not been sold yesterday never even made it up to the staff room, all taken at the source by the kitchen staff. The animosity between kitchen staff and sales personnel became even worse: the boss allowed us to take the factory chocolates left on a rack. Whoever happened to be there, descended on them like vultures. I happened to emerge from the elevator just before the last ones disappeared. The kitchen staff somehow had also gotten word about the freebies and helped themselves generously. In this establishment the meanest, toughest and most aggressive are the most successful. Nobody looks out for anybody else, nothing gets shared, it's eat or be eaten.

I thought that at least we were going to get a fair share of sweets on our way out at the end of the day. At Christmas I had been surprised that the staff didn't get a present from the owners - not even a few chocolates. The old-timers explained that the staff gets sweets as a farewell present at the end of the season. Although there were boxes left in the reserve stacks, all we got was a hand-shake. Said hand-shake was a long time a-coming. By 2pm we were done with the cleaning but had to wait around for the bosses to return from their lunch break until 3:30pm - at which time we got our paperwork and the handshake. Fortunately I had emptied and cleaned my room yesterday, and was, at last, free to go. I was too tired, too beat down, too demoralized to leap - hence the crawl.

I so much wanted to celebrate- the fact that I toughed it out, and even more, the fact that I am again free. But ironically, and as a true symbol of my current life, I have nobody to celebrate with and merely came home and treated myself to a glass of wine. Not having anybody to talk to during this happy hour I checked my email - and so learned that I was no longer in the running for the job at the Portland office of the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation. I had actually given up all hope for that job a few days ago.

So now the question of what comes next looms large. Answer: I have no idea, neither for the short term, nor for the long term. I was hoping to go to the lowlands to visit friends, but so far I have been unable to make solid plans. I think a lot of folks are away for an Easter vacation. Tomorrow I'll sleep in, rest, work on a job application, go for a walk. No idea whether I'll still be here on Thursday, or whether I'll go somewhere!

The long-term is equally undecided. The only certainty is my flight to Portland on May 25th, and my return to Switzerland on June 28. I am looking for work both here and in the US, and home will be where I find work. Default is Portland, my house, my garden, my community, my friends.

Bicycle parking in St. Gallen.

Lake St. Moritz is thawing.

Spring Thaw

2011-04-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

Friday night. For most people it's the end of the work week. I am about to take the train to St. Moritz where I'll have to spend the next two nights because I am slotted for the early, 7am shift. The flip side is that I am done by 5pm... And only 11 working days left...

Not much new to report, but I am finding myself writing the same email to a number of people - which means that it's time for an update. Nothing new is happening, but I am on the cusp of much novelty. I just don't know what the next step will entail. Whatever it is, there'll be much excitement.

I stumbled on a job announcement posted by the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, for the position of Program Coordinator in Portland. No date indicated when the ad was posted, and there was no deadline for applying - so I sent my resume. Four days later I received an invitation for an interview - which was held last Tuesday night. I don't know how I did - I just find it terribly difficult to "sell" myself. I have all the skills needed for the position and I know I would be a good fit for it. Early next week I'll know whether I qualify for the second round of interviews. If I were to be offered this job my permanent return to Portland would be accelerated, meaning that instead of spending the next few weeks playing and visiting friends, I'd have to work hard to get ready to leave Switzerland. This job would allow me to call an end to the Lemonade Project. It would allow me to come home, to find a new focus for my life and to once again work in the field about which I am knowledgeable - and passionate. Now if you would all please keep your fingers crossed for me, I'd be very grateful!

The only other news is that spring has sprung. We continue to have one day more beautiful than the other with unseasonably warm temperatures. Today I hiked in shorts and t-shirt. The snow is mostly gone from the valley floor and once again the fields are white with wild crocus. The tourists went home, and the villages are delightfully quiet. Last year I was complaining because at this time of the year there isn't much to do. Cross-country skiing is over but the hiking trails still are under snow and slush. This year there was much less slush because it basically had not snowed after Christmas and therefore a lot of the snow was already gone before it started getting warm. The other big difference with last year is that I treated myself to the yearly ski pass primarily to take advantage of spring skiing. I definitely intend to go one or two more times.

I am actually very proud of myself for having dared to downhill ski again. Two years ago my bad knee was so bad that even walking was a challenge. Last year I did fine cross-country skiing but frankly was scared the one time I tried downhill. So in the fall I made two decisions to challenge myself: first I got my skis out of my storage unit in Portland and hauled them up here. Then I spent a small fortune for the yearly pass. The pass was the key though, because it allowed me to ski for just 2-3 hours at the time, and to quit when I was cold, or bored, or the knee was bothering me. The first few times I limited myself to one or two runs, doing them over and over, until I felt confident. And little by little I found my skiing legs again. I started to have fun, all by myself, skiing faster, not hesitating when trying a new run. And the crowning moment: on a whim I decided to ski down, all by myself, the 10k of the Morteratsch Glacier, from the Diavolezza to the Morteratsch train station. A guide had warned me that the run was very bad - that he no longer was taking clients down that way. I had already decided that I had missed the opportunity, but since this was an item on my bucket list, when I found myself at the top of the run, it being a beautiful and warm day, I decided to go for it. What a feeling! Yes, some of the moguls were almost as tall as I... but I did it slowly, carefully, stopping for pictures, and thoroughly enjoying the fact that I was doing it, enjoying the feeling of being all alone in the middle of all these glaciers, in the total silence and overwhelming beauty of the mountains. And I paid a little tribute to my father with whom I had actually climbed some of these mountains in another time, in another life.

Skiing amid the glaciers. Piz Bernina.

Lake St. Moritz is starting to thaw.

Fields white with wild crocus. On the way to Guarda.

Encounter on the trail.

One day at the time

2011-03-19T05:42:00.000-07:00

I got the whole weekend off. I don't mind having time off during the week, but I like not having to work on Saturdays and Sundays. First they are the most busy and tiring days of the week, and second it feels more like "normal" life to have the weekend off, like everybody else. Sunday still is a holiday in Switzerland and considered as a day of rest and renewal. Hanselmann is the only food store open on Sundays - hence we also sell wine, milk, tea and coffee, as well as a few other basic food items. Today, Saturday, is my resting day, while tomorrow will be my renewal day: I intend to go downhill skiing to a new area, Piz Corvatsch (http://www.corvatsch.ch/). Although we had fresh snow this week, the ski runs in Zuoz are in poor shape and now is the time to tackle the high elevation areas.

This also is my first weekend alone after a welcome flurry of visitors: after Marlyse and Jacques, then friends Pierre and Peter, last weekend my sister Brigitte was here. I had not seen her since October and it was fun to catch up. We also showed the apartment to two new prospects and she became aware of how much time it takes to set up the showings, and then tidy up and clean the apartment. She helped - and I am still trying to find personal items she stashed away into some drawers and cupboards!

Last weekend was the 43rd Engadiner cross-country ski marathon. Of course I had to work, so saw very little of it, except for the hungry athletes at the bakery in the afternoon. The conditions were less ideal than last year, so I am glad I got to experience it then. The marathon marks the official end of the high winter season and indeed, work was rather slow early last week. However, the Italians had Thursday off, so many also took Friday off and treated themselves to an extended weekend in St. Moritz. Since the weather was dismal (rain!) it seemed like they all spent time at Hanselmann's, making for my latest return home ever at 8:10pm (except for when I have to go home by train, like last night).

I too have spent much time watching TV and CNN news on my computer about the disaster in Japan. Once again the horrors other people are experiencing have forced me to count my own blessings. My inner turmoil has somewhat subsided and I am trying to decipher whether I just managed to numb myself to my pain, or whether, thanks in part to my yoga practice, I am slowly adopting a more zen-like attitude. Or perhaps I am just too tired to feel and think. I am hoping that when I am done with work (April 27!) I can once again focus on myself and start feeling, thinking and planning. I am trying to embrace the "adventure" and my upcoming freedom. Perhaps after leaving Switzerland on Sept. 15 I can take advantage of the fact that the house is still rented and my belongings safely in storage to go on a real adventure. Perhaps go back to Australia for a few weeks, or... ? Do you, my reader, know of a volunteer gig that would more or less pay for itself? The costly working vacations are out of the question, but I am willing to work for room and board. Or, are you planning to take a trip and looking for a companion? If so, let's talk.

Pierre called last week with a tip for a job for an environmental foundation in Bern with which he is involved. I will spend the rest of the afternoon working on my resume (in German - still a major challenge). My daughter would like me to come home - a touching and comforting thought - but as I explained to her, at this stage I have to look out for myself, and if I were to get the job, I'd accept it. Pierre says that it would pay relatively well, and that they are a good team. I yearn to belong, to work with a supportive and smart group of people, to once again give meaning to my life and to meet one last professional challenge. Then, Claire, I'll be ready to come home, to again be Mom, and perhaps even, some day, grand-ma. Brigitte and I had an interesting conversation about not knowing how to be a mother to adult daughters, as we ourselves never had a mother beyond our teenage years, and therefore lack a model. We compared notes on how we constantly have to reinvent our role, hoping that we are doing it right. Of course we also are mothers to sons, but not having been sons ourselves, we are less wondering about their expectations.

I was fortunate to have March 10 off, when the ladies from the gym did their winter outing. We hiked up Val Bever, leaving with the last light and arriving after one hour walk and in the deep night at the restaurant where we were treated to the house drink (white wine, sparkling water and their home made mountain pine syrup) and cheese fondue. Then we all rode the train back to the parking lot.

I waited for my sister's visit to undertake a new winter hike, up Val Forno, off Maloja. Maloja is the top of the pass from the Engadin to the Val Bregaglia. To the right of this picture is the series of lakes, of which Lake St. Moritz is the farthest. To the left is the abrupt drop off into the Italian-speaking Val Bregaglia.

We were blessed with a gorgeous day and stunning vistas.

There was noticeably more snow than in the Engadin and it still was deep winter.

Endings

2011-03-09T03:25:00.001-08:00

I have not written in a long time. First there really isn't much new to share. Second there really isn't much positive to share, and I am afraid my friends are getting tired of reading about my complaints. Third, I did have some great days, thanks to visiting friends, but then there is no time to sit at the computer and blog about all the fun I have had. Still, it is time for me to take stock, and for my friends to receive an update.

Last night, for the first time since I started work on November 1st, it was still day light when I got home, and this morning I was woken by the sun. My friends know that I am not a morning person and that it takes me a while to get moving, but today I jumped out of bed, ready to start my day (day off!). As a matter of fact, most days have been sunny this winter, but the Engadin being a mountain valley, during the winter the sun would reach my house later in the morning. The winter is nearing its end. This is Engadiner Marathon week. I was again asked to help out at the Zuoz feeding station, but I have to work on that day. I admit that even if I had not been working, I would have hesitated to volunteer, as I am exhausted from my job and really need my days off to rest and relax. Besides, I had not found the volunteering very rewarding. The other volunteers were not friendly to me - I ended up introducing myself to my group and going to lunch by myself. No lasting contact resulted from that effort.

The women's race took place last Sunday, and this coming Sunday will be the major event, the marathon from Maloja to S-Chanf, with 12,000 expected participants. The marathon marks the end of the winter season in the valley, although the high elevation ski lifts will remain open for several more weeks. I intend to make good use of them.

Winter is not the only entity to come to an end. I have started counting the weeks and the days left to work: 7 weeks and 28 days. It still is a lot, given the conditions, but the end definitely is in sight. I have signed a contract with a real estate agency, and therefore the end of the apartment and of my stay in Zuoz are also becoming real. After this horrible winter I feel ready to let it all go. I am sure to return, but as a tourist, to have fun, nothing more.

The end of my stay in Zuoz will usher in new beginnings - but at this point I have no idea what I'll do after this chapter. I will have to call an end to the Lemonade Project, and resume real life, in one form or another. This question is constantly at the back of my mind and it is torturing me. I am trying to look at it as an adventure - I am so free, I am sure many people are envying my situation. But what was exciting to me at 25 is painful at my current age. I long to belong, to put down roots, to feel part of a community, in short, to have a life. My stay in Zuoz has taught me one big lesson about myself: as much as I love the outdoors and need sunshine, in the end, I'll be better off under the fog but with friends, than alone in the sunshine.

At this point it looks like my options are either to remain in Switzerland (probably in Neuchatel), or to return to Portland. I actually have made the list with the four columns, the pluses and the minuses of living in Switzerland, versus returning to the US. My sister is arriving tomorrow for a couple of days, and I am am counting on her for some productive brainstorming. I feel terribly torn, and I am actually welcoming any advice/ideas/input/insights from you my readers.

I am longing for permanence, for returning to my house, to my garden, to my community (neighborhood, French, Italian, yoga, pool, environmental) to the land of big wild areas. I am dreaming of the life I used to have, but I know that things will not be the same. The aspects that always bothered me about the US are more exacerbated than ever: the violence, the lack of social safety nets, the compromised public education systems, the absence of effective public transportation. I guess I could get used to it once again, ignoring most of the above and just contently living my life, cultivating my garden. Yet - I must live with the fact that there is a good possibility that I will never again find a job, which begs the question of what I'll do with myself and with my life, once I have remodeled the house and brought the garden back from the brink. Will I finally be able to forgive those who destroyed my life by terminating my foundation job? Will I be able to find a reason to get up in the morning? I have learned that vacations and days off are precious only because they are rare. Once in infinite supply they no longer have the same appeal. I am sure that at some point in life one is ready to let go of other ambitions but I am not yet there. I am yearning to contribute. I feel that if I return to the US I need to have an idea of what I actually want to accomplish there. If I have to survive without any income, my ability to travel, either on major trips, or just to Mt. Hood will be limited. I will have to purchase a car, but will I be able to afford gas?

Staying in Switzerland would allow me to keep on living without a car, always close to nature. We basically have no unemployment (3.5%) - but what are the chances of me finding a job at my age, after having been out of the workforce for over 2 years? Everything is less intense here, saner, and the social safety net certainly is a comforting thought. Some issues, however, are the same as if I return to the US: what will I do with myself if I don't find a job? How will I pay for a place to live if I don't find a job? Other factors are my 93 year old aunt. I am the only family member to visit her on a regular basis, and I know that these visits are a great comfort to her. Last, but not least, my heart wants to stay close to somebody special, but life circumstances don't allow me to make this a deciding factor - no matter how much I'd like to.

I will fly to Portland on May 25, and stay in the US for about one month. Of course a side trip to San Francisco to see Claire, and a stop-over in NY on the way back to see Eric are a must. I fear many trips to the dentist, but I am also hoping for walks and hikes with my friends. Perhaps this stay in the US will provide me with the key to making a decision. I already have to purchase now my next ticket back to the US, and I will haphazardly book for Sept. 15. Either it will be my definite return, or a trip to organize a permanent move back to Europe (note to my kids: permanent only until either Medicare kicks in, or I become a grand-mother, whichever comes first. I will not sell my house, not ever!). The deciding moment will be the end of July when I have to give my renter notice if I want to retake possession of my house at the end of his lease.

My dear aunt, 93, for all practical purposes now housebound, waving goodbye as I am off to catch my train back to Zuoz.

Checking on the stone wall I helped to rebuild in August.

Impressive snow wall on the summit of Bernina Pass. Childhood friend Marlyse visited with her husband, my high school friend Jacques. I introduced them to each other. My mother and Marlyse's mother were friends before we were born. Our kids are friends and have visited across the ocean.

Downhill skiing at its best. Corviglia, above St. Moritz, with friend Pierre (another high school friend!).

St. Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T08:44:00.000-08:00

Writing posts for this blog is becoming increasingly difficult. First, there really isn't much new happening - and second there just isn't much happening these days. Time has lost its rhythm - there are now only working days and non-working days. The working days are entirely consumed by work. I still take walks during my breaks and once in a while still find a new itinerary, but they really aren't anything to write home about. On the non-working days, I am increasingly feeling the tiredness accumulated on my working days. The concept of weekend no longer exists, just days on and days off, and all of a sudden another month has gone by.

As the work is taking its toll on my body, the loneliness resulting from the work schedule and the remoteness of the valley is also starting to affect me. Except for my aunt, Pablo at Christmas and Marianne in January (and we had only one day together!) I have been alone since I started work on November 1. Despite my efforts to meet people, I have never been invited to anybody's house, nor for an evening out. I have never had as much as a cup of coffee with anybody

I thought I would be devastated when the time comes to leave this place. But perhaps this is the silver lining of this horrible winter: I am now understanding that the Engadin is a great place to vacation, to play, to relax, but it's a difficult and hard place to live in. And it could just be that this awareness will allow me to let it go more easily when the time comes. I am also learning about myself. Although I am comfortable alone and need lots of time alone, there are limits to it. Email and skype just doesn't replace a cup of coffee, or a ski outing, or, heaven forbid, a weekend with a friend.

I still haven't decided whether I will remain in Switzerland or return to the US after I have sold and cleaned out Dad's apartment. But now I know that despite my love for the mountains, despite all the sunshine and fresh air, I will not remain here. I need human contact, I need people to laugh with, I need the stimulation of good conversation and the nurturing of good shared food.

On the news front: we haven't had any significant snowfall since before Christmas, and most of the snow accumulated in November and December is gone. The hills are browning at a scary pace - they look as they did last year in early April. I have done a couple of cross-country itineraries going down the valley because I was afraid that if I postponed them any longer I would no longer be able to do them. It also is unseasonably warm.

Work has turned into hell. While over the holidays I felt that we were a good crew, supportive of each other, now the mood has radically changed. Most of the experienced sales ladies now talk to me only to criticize my work. I am open to criticism, fully aware that I am not perfect and forget things, and make mistakes. But the irony is that there is no way I can learn from the criticism, because I get in trouble with one person because I do, and with the other because I don't: pad the cake boxes with tissue paper; send the remain bread up from the bakery before going on break; bag the buns before cashing in... etc. etc. I am trying to look at it as an outsider, taking note of how insane it is and trying not to let it affect me, but it's not possible to spend that many hours in such an environment and not to let it get at me. Also at least half of the colleagues now feel downright hostile to me. Gone is the easy banter and laughter in-between clients. And I know it's crazy, but little by little the question of my own capabilities enters my mind. My demise from the foundation has profoundly altered my psyche and I do question my abilities. Perhaps I am unfit for work, unable to perform to anybody's expectation, unable to deliver. That's the kind of ideas that enter my mind when I am spending too much time alone, too much time mulling things over.

Happy St. Valentines Day to all my readers.

During the month of February every weekend horse races are taking place on frozen Lake St. Moritz. The level surface is also used as a snow cricket field.

At the annual dinner of Hanselmann's personnel. It was an awkward affair, as most of the store staff boycotted the event. We had to do without desert and the boss remained glued to his seat, abstaining from greeting his staff and mingling with us. (Thank you Rosine for the pretty shirt!)

Sunday afternoon walk on Muottas Muragl. The newly renovated hotel is run entirely by renewable energy sources. An impressive system of trails if plowed into the snow.

Lest I forget that the Hanselmann house in St. Moritz is a veritable fire trap - I am reminded of it each time I step out of my room and over the first class wiring job for the fridge.

Francoise

2011-02-03T08:57:00.001-08:00

Fortunately I don't know how it feels to live through a category 5 cyclone, or hurricane. But now I have experienced the agony of having a loved one go through this hell. For those of you who don't know: my sister Francoise lives on a tropical island, offshore from Townsville, in Queensland, Australia. There was no evacuation center on the island and she and her husband live in a prefab house. As I was snuggled in my bed I was thinking about her and her husband, with visions of them clinging to a palm tree before being blown off... As of last night I didn't know whether they were alive or not, injured or not, whether they had lost their house and all their possessions with it. Finally this morning I had the news via sister Brigitte, that they were unhurt and that the house had made it too. I am amazed that the cell phone worked - although now we won't have further news for a while because the island has neither power nor water, and her battery was running out. It doesn't matter - she is alive. I hardly slept through the previous night and spent all day yesterday thinking about her, worrying about her - and today, now that I can relax, I am absolutely exhausted, with something like a hangover although I didn't have any alcohol.

All the rest seems so trivial...

Yesterday, to unglue myself from the computer and the Australian TV network, I forced myself to go cross-country skiing. As every day for the past few weeks, the weather was gorgeous, and warm enough for me to remove all my outer layers - down to a thin fleece top. The snow is disappearing fast, not so much melting, as just evaporating. The south slopes are starting to show bare ground - as they were last year by the end of March! We desperately need fresh snow, lots of it, and fast. So yesterday I chose a section of trail on a south slope, thinking that I'd better do it now, because if we don't get more snow, it might no longer be doable in 10 days from now. The track led over a foot bridge over the Inn, about 3 meters wide (10 feet). As I was in the middle of the bridge I heard an unusual noise behind me, and when I turned around to investigate, I was almost knocked over by an elk who was running across the bridge just about at the speed of light. I could have touched her (it was a cow) - it's a miracle she didn't ram me. I had not yet recovered that a German shepherd followed, at the same speed, obviously after the elk. I tried to slow down the dog but didn't make any difference. By the time I reached the far end of the bridge, both dog and elk had disappeared. No dog owner ever materialized.

I am alternating downhill and cross-country skiing with walks. Earlier this week I went downhill skiing. I am still sticking to my 2 hour outings because skiing alone is rather intense - no mid-slope chitchatting - and after a while, boring. In a helpful coincidence, my bad knee also starts to scream after about 2 hours, and so I have every incentive to quit. Nevertheless, I am pleased to notice that I found again my skiing legs. Granted, I ski much less aggressively than I used to because any hard hit is really painful on the knee. But I am no longer afraid or hesitant and I am again truly enjoying myself, although my performance is much less elegant than it used to be. The most important is to move, challenge myself a bit, enjoy the view, and above all, the sunshine.

New drama on the work front: the colleague from Zuoz who generously gives me rides, was let go because of "restructuring". These are the words that my own employer used when I was laid off from the Lazar Foundation. She is 60 and single and I am outraged that in Switzerland employees are not treated any better than in the US. Granted, the termination is effective only on March 31, just one month before her contract, as everybody's, was expiring. She is one of the few experienced staff to whom I go when I have a question. She is efficient, professional - I can't imagine why on earth she is being let go. Now she has 2 months to find another job, but also she has to work for another 2 months for an employer who doesn't want her, who doesn't care about her and I can't imagine where she'll find the motivation to do her best!

Last weekend business was brisk at the bakery: both bob sleigh and polo on snow world championships were taking place in St. Moritz.

The polo games were held on the frozen lake on which a temporary tent city was built.

It was the place to see and be seen. Never had I seen so many fur coats.

Of course there also had to be Swiss folklore!

Anniversary

2011-01-26T12:27:00.001-08:00

Today a year ago Eric and I were on the plane, en route to Switzerland. I have now lived my dream of spending one year in Zuoz. It feels good to have been able to carry out this dream. I am so happy to have been able to make good use of and enjoy my father's apartment. It was fun to be able to share it with so many friends. I am very grateful to have had this opportunity.

I have not written in a long time. There really wasn't much new to write about and I didn't have the energy to carve little stories out of everyday occurrences. I feel like I am only now starting to recover from the holidays - a whole month later. The stomach flu which I was fighting when I posted my last entry hung on for almost a week. The intestinal problems per se were gone, but I had no appetite and since I didn't have any reserves, I spend that time in a low sugar, low energy daze. I am once again constantly hungry and eating with much appetite, except that at work I still don't have enough breaks to be able to eat as much as I should. It's therefore difficult to put back on the lost pounds. (I know, I'll never get much sympathy on that subject!)

The 80% schedule has now really kicked in. The bakery's scheduling is mysterious, for in February I am getting 15 days off - which is more than half the month! I am not complaining. I'll once again have some time for myself, time to respond to email, time to sort my pictures, to ski, to visit my aunt, to do my tax returns (I get to fill out both the Swiss one and the US one!), to do nothing, and, above all, welcome guests. Marianne was here last week. Unfortunately I had just one day off, just that one day to share with her. And as luck would have it, I wasn't able to get a ride home on either of the subsequent two nights when she was still here, getting home only at 8:35 - when she was just about ready for bed after a day of skiing.

I will also have to use my time off to think, to plan my post-Zuoz life. I still haven' t found a buyer for the apartment but I am optimistic that I will be able to sell it this spring and I need to figure out what I'll do next, where I'll live. Return to Portland or stay in Switzerland? It was nice not having to think about it for a few weeks, but now I have to deal with it.

Work is easier because the horrible crowds are gone. We are more relaxed, the clients are more pleasant, and we actually can take the time to exchange a few words, which makes everything more interesting and more fun. Today I served a French-speaking couple who comes on a regular basis, and I thought I heard a slight Neuchatel intonation - and indeed, they used to live in Hauterive, just a mile or so from my father's place. At the same time work is also more difficult, because the honeymoon with my coworkers is over. For the first time I am experiencing mobbing: one leader constantly reprimanding me for alleged mistakes, and some of the others joining her. I don't care much because I will not stay beyond April and my self-esteem is not low enough to be eroded by a group of women sensitive to hormonal fluctuations, the phases of the moon and the moods of the boss. Still, it doesn't make for a pleasant work day, and today a couple of colleagues didn't speak to me - an alternate form of mobbing! An additional difficulty with work is the fact that all my fingertips have cracks, which makes it difficult and painful to type, to hold a pen, to get cash out of the register, to tie bows around the pastry boxes. Today I noticed that my fingers started bleeding while gift-wrapping some chocolates and the clients left with a few blood spots on the paper - fortunately relatively well hidden by the bow...

In part the cracks are caused by the extreme cold and the dryness of the air. It's been -20 C (0 F or less) for the last two weeks or so. It hasn't snowed during all that time. I went downhill skiing last Friday, but the snow is old and worn out. In town there's hardly any snow left, and the south slopes are beginning to show dried grasses and rocks. It's a very different picture from what Eric and I found when we rolled into town a year ago.

The sun is returning into the town. A shaft of light next to the bakery.

Art in the snow.

Curling. We actually sell chocolate curling stones at the bakery.

I made a new friend!

80 %

2011-01-10T10:46:00.001-08:00

It's my day off, the first since January 3rd, and I am sick - therefore this posting will be short. I don't know if it's stomach flu or if my employer poisoned me with bad food - it wouldn't be a first. I'll see tomorrow how my colleagues are doing. It came on very suddenly in the afternoon, diarrhea at first, then nausea. I had to leave the store, slept in my room until my colleague from Zuoz finished at 7pm and could drive me home. I barely made it to my bathroom to throw up my cookies.

I slept for 12 hours - fortunately today was my day off. Needless to say, I didn't get much accomplished, and the Christmas decorations are still up. I have zero energy, have not really been able to eat anything and I am worried about tomorrow - I have to leave the house at 6:15am to start my shift at 7am.

Things should improve soon though, as my 80% workload has been approved.

Frankly, the last 3 weeks are lost in a haze of tiredness. Or I am too tired tonight to scrape my brain to find some interesting stories. Not only have I been working long and many days, but I also spent considerable amounts of time dealing with the sale of the apartment. I put ads in a couple of papers and for two weeks not a day went by where I didn't find a text message from interested folks when I went on break. Meaning that instead of relaxing during the breaks, I had to return messages (in 3 languages, a major challenge for someone who barely knows how to text), set up appointments, give directions. And then, at home, clean, tidy up, greet viewers at 8pm... I have one prospective buyer who already visited twice. It's now between my place and another one. It will be a big relief when the apartment is sold.

Cross-country skiing on a glorious day off (not today!)

All kinds of traffic on frozen lake St. Moritz. They are starting to get it ready for horse races.

Happy New Year

2011-01-02T12:29:00.000-08:00

I am looking at the New Year stretching out ahead of me with anxiety mixed with curiosity. What decisions will I be making over the next few months, and where will I be living a year from now???

Since December 20th I have had only one day off, Christmas Day. I have tomorrow, January 3rd, off and then I'll work again until the 10th. I am afraid that this first day off will be devoted to catching up on sleep, paying bills and general house keeping, as I haven't done any of the above for quite a while. Since the weather has been absolutely gorgeous over the last few days, and should continue to be so, I will squeeze in an hour or two of skiing at some point.

Work is worse than ever. We are now facing a permanent wall of clients all day long - it feels like an attack. It's relentless. Ironically, it's the locals who are also working who are the most pleasant, giving a smile, cracking a joke, taking their time. The tourists generally are unpleasant. Although they are on vacation, they seem to be in a hurry, looking and acting impatient, increasing our stress levels. When the weather is nice many don't bother taking off their sun glasses, which makes helping them even more unpleasant. Many expect us to understand what they want while they keep on chatting on their phones. Dogs in sophisticated coats with hoods and fur and bows bark, kids scream, lovers kiss, couples argue. Many clients pace up and down the length of the store, in search of the perfect goodie, avoiding eye contact. Families split up, with Mom buying bread while Dad picks up some pastries with a colleague, and then they expect it all to be rung up at the same cash register. And they tell us that they want to pay in Euros only after we have rung it all up in Swiss francs, and they complain about the exchange rate (if you don't like our rate, there are two banks withing 50 yards) or about the fact that we have to give the change in Swiss francs (sorry, I can't help it if the Swiss haven't adopted the sagging Euro). The store closes at 7pm, in principle. However, since the folks still sitting in the restaurant will eventually have to get out, we actually cannot lock the door, so clients keep on coming in. And when there is no more bread and no more pastries, in their despair, they buy packaged cakes and chocolates.

The silver lining is that we are an impressive team. Once in a while one of us manages to crack a joke. We help each other, cover for each other. The boss' wife helps on a regular basis and while she is not one of us, she no longer limits her comments to criticisms but allows deviations from her otherwise very strict rules - because she knows that her own rules cannot be followed to the letter in the overall chaos.

The above is my daily life and each night I arrive home more tired than the previous one. It's fascinating to observe how, as time goes by, there is no energy left for anything else. I have pretty much stopped sending emails, even to my sisters and to my kids and I keep phone calls short. The stress, the many hours on my feet, running up and down stairs and the bending over to scoop up chocolates or pastries are taking their toll on my body. My bad knee is constantly swollen, a tendon in a heel is acting up, most of my finger nails are broken and and the fingertips have cracks. My lower back hasn't recovered since it went out in November.

Despite all of the above, I am stealing snippets of real life during which I enjoy myself. I am reminded that I am alive and that life is beautiful. Christmas was a delight, albeit short. I got home at 8pm on the 24th. Pablo had chilled some blush and gotten munchies out. Before digging in though, I changed my clothes, dressing up to signal that this was a special night. I found a white linen table cloth and matching napkins that used to belong to my mother. Pablo brought a garland of electric lights. I lit candles all around the living room. We treated ourselves to a cheese fondue and exchanged gifts.

I was not planning on staying up on the 31st. There was an event on the square in Zuoz, but between my exhaustion and the fact that I don't really know anybody, I didn't feel like joining. I remembered the hike organized by the town and how nobody had talked to me, and I was afraid I'd find myself all alone in the crowd. However, just as I was going to bed, the bells started ringing. Switzerland doesn't have a Times Square or a dropping ball. Instead, 2o minutes to midnight, all the bells start ringing, to ring out the old year They stop at midnight, for the 12 strikes, and then again, all the bells ring for another 20 minutes to ring in the New Year. In order to hear the bells the people open their windows and go out on their balconies.

At midnight the fireworks started. There were at least 3 simultaneous major ones (remember Zuoz has only 1,200 inhabitants!) going for some 15 minutes. One was across the river, lighting up the whole landscape. The mountains were echoing the explosions. Many private fireworks were shot off here and there as well, huge rockets, all highly illegal in Oregon! Fortunately on January 1 the bakery opened a little later than usual so I slept in for an extra welcome hour.

The owners of the store donated a couple of bottles of champagne - the real deal. However, they did not donate the time for us to enjoy it, so last night, after finally getting the last clients out the door at 7:15pm, we shared the two bottles. It was one rare light moment between all of us, including the boss' wife. I spent the night in St. Moritz, since today, Sunday, there was not going to be a train early enough to get me to work on time. So last night I saw more fireworks. At 10pm I walked down towards the lake, as they were shooting them off the frozen lake. It was one of the most impressive fireworks I have ever seen. Not only were the colors and design mind blowing, but they were lighting up the whole town perched on the hillside as well as the snowy surface of the frozen lake dotted with spectators. With the mountains all around us the noise was overwhelming. All this by some -20 C with the snow cracking and squeaking underfoot.

To all my friends and readers: best wishes for a happy New Year.

Marzipan pigs at the bakery - to bring good luck for the New Year. At the bottom of the picture you can see parts of tools. The Italians believe that touching iron brings luck, so we sell cocoa covered chocolate tools (scissors, files, pliers, horse shoes, etc).

On a walk during my morning break. Lake St. Moritz, St. Moritz Bad, Piz da la Margna.

A cold morning in St. Moritz Bad.

Fireworks over Lake St. Moritz.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-20T11:16:00.001-08:00

Merry Christmas to all – and to myself too! I was dreading spending Christmas alone – so far none of the good people of Zuoz or St. Moritz has thought of inviting me, though they all know that I am on my own. Turns out I will have company: I found out that my friend Paul booked his flight back to Canada for December 26 because his family celebrates according to the Russian calendar. So he too would spend the 25^th moping around alone – and I invited him to come up to Zuoz – and he accepted the invitation despite the very limited time we will have together since I’ll be working until 7pm on the 24^th and he has to leave in the afternoon of the 25^th to catch his flight on the next morning. It doesn’t matter. The perspective of having a guest motivated me to decorate, and not having seen anybody except locals since the end of October, I am very much looking forward to seeing a friend.

I am in high spirits tonight, as I just had two days off in a row. Yesterday, while listening to the whole Messiah I spent 2 hours decorating my living room with ornaments found in the apartment and the greenery collected in the woods before the snow covered it all. The apartment looks quite festive now. I had planned to go cross-country skiing in the afternoon, but while I was eating lunch I heard a fire truck come up the road towards the village, followed by an ambulance a couple minutes later. Then another fire truck... I was starting to feel some anxiety - since spending September 11, 2001 in New York I have a very low tolerance level for multiple emergency vehicles. Eventually 9 fire trucks drove up the road and I knew that something major was happening. So, instead of going skiing, I walked up to the village. The barn of the house next to the one we used to stay in was on fire. The narrow roads made for difficult access and the fire trucks were positioned in the streets all around the barn - each trying to reach all the way to the fire. I couldn't see any flames - just smoke coming through the roof. A few firemen were on the precariously slanted roof, shoveling snow, and then cutting a hole into it. I watched (and photographed) the action until I was really cold and went home, looking forward to warm up with a hot cup of tea.

I got home ok but never got the tea, for as soon as I got home the power went out - and stayed out for a good 3 hours, or until past 6pm. Since it was -25 C last night, the apartment started to cool down quite quickly, and at 5pm it also started to be really dark. In Portland I am well equipped for our frequent power failures. Here they never happen, and I was unprepared - except for the many candles I had displayed all over the house with my Christmas decorations! Dinner was a salad with a glass of milk - it was an early dinner because I anticipated a long, cold and boring evening and therefore an opportunity to catch up on my sleep. Thank God the power returned just as I was getting really desperate for a cup of coffee. The cause of the failure: a private jet crashed on a transformer station near the airport, resulting in a black-out in the whole valley. Not even the train was circulating and I felt really lucky to be safely at home rather than in transit in the cold.

Thankfully today was eventless. It was less cold than last week, with a perfectly blue sky and the low sun giving all the warmth it could, and I went downhill skiing, right here in Zuoz. I found out that the chairlift was closed only when I got there, so I spent my time on the bunny slope, having a blast in the fresh air and the sun.

I went out one more time in the late afternoon, to an Advent Window: during all of December, every night a family hosts a gathering open to all, to mingle and celebrate. Unfortunately these open houses take place between 5-7pm and therefore I cannot attend when I work. Today's was hosted by the public library. I had never gone up to the center of the village with all the holiday lights and the tree lit up. The open house itself was a flop - I was the only one there and the librarian was busy being a librarian, so I didn't stay. Still it was worth the trip, since I then walked home with the almost full moon painting the snowy landscape in silver.

St. Moritz holiday lights and Palace Hotel tree.

My decorations. On the right, the figurines of my father's nativity. The structure that's supposed to house the figurines, a barn built my Dad himself when he was young, is in Portland!

Fire in Zuoz.

Zuoz Christmas lights.

St. Gallen

2010-12-16T12:54:00.000-08:00

Tonight I got home as late as if I had returned from work - except that I am returning from a visit to my aunt in St. Gallen. She is now pretty much home-bound: there's much snow all over Switzerland and being almost blind and very frail, she doesn't dare go out, and I don't blame her. My visits with her are becoming more and more relaxed and rewarding. We have a comfortable routine that stresses neither one of us. I brought her a tin of Christmas cookies, 3 of her own recipes which I baked over my last 3 days off. It was worth it. When she opened the tin her face lit up and although it was just about dinner time, she had to taste one immediately. I ran errands for her and cooked a nice meal for her and her friend, which, as always, they ate with much gusto. Last night was spent programming her new phone and teaching her to use it: hers has died that very morning and a friend got her a new one! At 93 she practiced and learned to use it!

While I was busy baking my cookies, my kids were busy carrying forward the holiday traditions. Eric and girlfriend Pam baked St. Nicolas bread men, and Claire called me one night from San Francisco, asking for advice on runny icing! She now is the 4th generation using my grand-mother's recipes.

As if dealing with American health insurance were not enough, I am now having trouble with my Swiss one. Anticipating a move away from Zuoz in the summer, I called my insurance (6 months ahead of time) to inquire about the formalities with respect to such a move. I was told that my premiums would rise substantially if I took residence in the western part of Switzerland. So I inquired about quitting and contracting with another insurance with rates more favorable to that part of the country. The employee explained that if I had a Fr. 300 deductible I could cancel my contract at the end of June, but with my Fr. 2,500 deductible I couldn't until the end of 2011. Her advice was not to move before the end of the year! I then suggested I change my plan to the lower deductible. Her response: you just missed the deadline for changing plans by a few days. Now I was really taken aback, since I had not received any letter informing me of such a window. The employee said that indeed they don't mail anything out, since everybody knows that changes to insurance have to be made by November 30. I pointed out that I had just returned to the country after 33 years abroad - how was I supposed to know? She kindly gave me the address of the insurance's board of directors, so I could send them a letter! Wish me luck!

This week I start work every day at 7am - which means either catching the 6:24 am train, or sleeping in St. Moritz. I then work either until 5 pm (getting home at 6:30 pm), or until 7 pm - getting home at 8:30 pm if I have to take the train. This is not a sustainable pace, and I have now gotten to the point where I no longer have either the time or the energy to respond to emails. But please, keep on sending messages - I definitely do read them!

Between the extreme cold and the dryness of the air, I now constantly have cracks at the tips of my fingers. It makes writing and typing painful, and I have much difficulty getting the change out of the cash register. Yes... the cash register... You know how when the roll of paper for the receipts almost runs out, it is marked with red streaks? I always presumed that it was as a warning to the cash operator to insert a new roll of paper. We are not allowed to do so until the paper is completely out. That means that instead of doing it when there's a lull between clients, we have to do it while ringing up a client's purchases, with more clients impatiently waiting for their turn. The reason: changing the paper before the roll is empty is a waste of money!

Off for 2 days of work, followed by 2 days off - before the big holiday rush - 20 days of work with only one day, December 25th, off.

2010 Christmas cookies.

This picture is for my sisters and my kids: the little square near my aunt's house.

The majestic St. Gallen baroque cathedral. This is where I attended mass as a child when visiting my grand-mother.

Old town of St. Gallen, with snow and Christmas decorations.

Escaping

2010-12-09T07:47:00.000-08:00

I am going to stick with it through the Christmas season, but I'll ask to have my schedule reduced to 80% starting January 9 - or I'll hand in my resignation effective January 31. I cannot go on like this. I don't know how others do it, but I just can't.

The store is now very busy. There's no longer time to either check the time or go to the bathroom. I am entirely focused on serving, promptly, efficiently, smilingly, and the hours fly by, and all of a sudden it's 7pm and I realize that I am totally wasted. I have now done 5 days in a row at this pace. I have today off, and then I am on for another 5 days. When I finally get home I am too tired to even respond to email - and I apologize to all of you who are waiting to get a personal message. I find myself gulping down my food because the breaks are not long enough to eat and go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and refill my water bottle. Even during my long break I now feel stressed. When I am out on a walk I am constantly checking my watch to make sure I am back in the store on time. Today, on my day off, I have been unable to relax, eating too quickly and feeling my heart race. All this can't be good.

My back is better but not good. I ought to go to a chiropractor - no time. I did return to yoga and it helps. I am trying to practice controlled breathing while waiting for clients to make up their mind and while riding the elevator, but it's not quite enough to achieve a zen state. The mood in the store has gotten worse. Obviously I am not the only one to be stressed and tired, and there are all kinds on tensions, misunderstandings, infringements on each other's territories... I am still managing to remain above all of it, but for how much longer?

I feel that the job is literally dispiriting, in the sense that it's robbing me of my spirit. The stress, the tiredness, but also many other petty ways. The uniforms, for example: most of us new employees wear shirts several sizes too big. The shirts of the women who have been there for a long time are worn to the point of being full of holes. A detail, but added to all the other aggravations, it matters. There is the issue of the pens. The business doesn't provide pens. We each have to provide our own, meaning they are preciously guarded and hidden, and retrieved with much effort when needed - which is often. Wouldn't it be so much simpler to have cheap pens lying around a little everywhere, so they are not an additional issue?

If I were the manager I'd call every morning at 8am a short staff meeting. I'd recap the previous day, explain the new pastries and chocolates which are now on the shelf, give advice on how to best gift wrap them, and wish us all a good day. I thought about it on the day when all of a sudden clients brought these big stars to the counter - which I had never seen (it's now too busy to have the time to check what new items might be offered for sale on a daily basis). I had no idea how to wrap them, called an experienced colleague who started packing them up, until the boss arrived and made her unpack them because he has a better idea. Meanwhile the clients were shaking their heads and waiting...

I spent Monday night in St. Moritz. When I plugged in my computer I blew a fuse and spent the rest of the evening in the dark since I couldn't find the fuse box. Fortunately my room faces City Hall with their outrageous display of Christmas lights, which light up my whole room as well as the square below. Since I didn't have anything else to do but think, I started worrying about possible escape routes in case of a fire and came to the conclusion that if there's a fire I am toast - literally. I am on the 4th floor of an old building of which the inside is all wood. There are no fire escapes, no fire breaks, and only one door to the outside, which is locked at all times. I can visualize myself going down 4 floors in the dark and the smoke, and then finding the correct key in my key ring, as well as the key hole, and letting myself out... Seeing all the holes in the walls, pipes and faucets leaking, I can only imagine the state of the wiring. Add to this that most employees smoke. I ended up not sleeping much that night - all the more since the snowplows went into action at 5am and worked on the square until it was time to get up at 7am...

On the positive side: I am trying to get into the Christmas spirit and have been baking Christmas cookies in my spare time (!). I want to bring a tin full to my aunt when I go see her next week. Since I got the recipes from her, who got them from her mother, it's all very appropriate. I have decorated my living room a bit, and yesterday I bought an ornament at the St. Moritz Christmas market - except that when I unpacked it I found the "Made in China" label... Meanwhile I get much joy from observing from afar how my kids are perpetrating the Christmas traditions: Eric called me to ask for the Czech Christmas bread recipe, so he could bake it for his grand-father while on a Thanksgiving visit. Claire is busy baking her cookies - I gave her my mother's cutters. Eric mailed me a St. Nicolas package - which really touched me.

On a walk near Zuoz. I decided it was too cold to go downhill skiing and the cross-country tracks were not yet prepared.

Lake St. Moritz freezing up.

The St. Nicolas bread man (Benz) sold in the Swiss bakeries on December 6th. My kids will agree with me that those we baked as a family were prettier and more interesting - and I must add, also better.

Schoggispitzbuben - one of the family Christmas cookie recipes.

City Race

2010-12-01T08:33:00.000-08:00

Thank you all for your messages, for your insights, for your advice. Is it because of all this support, or because after one month I am to some degree getting used to my new life, or perhaps just because a weekend off finally allowed me to regroup? Either way, I am doing better.

The trial period ended on November 30, and now I have to give 30 days notice if I want to quit. I have applied for a couple of other jobs, one as a receptionist in a dentist's office (no experience necessary), and one as a hiking guide for the Ski School (retired folks welcome). The first question I got when I called the dental office was my name, the second my age. They didn't seem interested in hearing anything else. I have not gotten the promised calls back from either entity, and so, once again, to some degree, I am feeling lucky to have at least this miserable bakery job.

The other day I had the worst schedule ever: from 8am to 9:30, then a break until 11:00am at which time I had to go for lunch, and then work from 11:30am to 7:00pm with one 15 minutes break! Meanwhile I got the schedule for the days off in December - finally on November 29! I don't know how employees with family and other obligations are managing! It's impossible to plan anything. The weekly schedule only gets posted on the prior weekend - so again, it's impossible to make any kind of commitment for the long breaks. Ironically I am feeling proud for having made the cut through the trial period - the colleague who started on the same day as I, didn't!

The store has large windows through which we get to observe what's happening on the street. It's closed to traffic, and, of course, on a slope. When it snows there's much snow removal activity, as the city is trying to do a good job to keep the street snow free to prevent the build-up of ice. They go at it with huge snowplows and backhoes - I am always worried about one of them crashing through the windows. Last weekend the City Race took place. Our street was turned into a ski run. So, instead of them removing snow, they brought it back onto the clean street, truck load after truck load, until there were a good 2 feet. A small walkway was carved away on one side, protective fences and mats were positioned all along the run, markings were painted onto the snow, a starting ramp was erected and slalom gates set up! Starting at 5pm on Friday, music was blearring and an impressive crowd turned up despite the bitter cold. It's true that November has been so dead in St. Moritz that people were desperate for an opportunity to party! Since the bakery was losing much business because it was just about inaccessible, it set up a booth on the square. Thank God I didn't have to staff it! Fortunately there was no fire at Hanselmann's during that time, because no fire truck would have been able to reach it! All this for a ski run of 100 meters!

Talking about skiing. On my day off last week I went downhill skiing, to a different area, Marguns, above the town of Celerina. I skied only for about one hour, but since we were barely 10 people in total on the run, it was intense skiing, - and enough for my knee. I was pleased to notice that I am becoming more confident, more aggressive, though I limited myself to intermediate runs. I headed home when the light got flat and the cold more biting.

We have had deep winter weather over the last few days. Either it snows, or it's bitter cold. Today's snowing would have been described as a blizzard in the US - here we just say that it's snowing! It doesn't let up, and even the highway remains white. So there definitely wasn't going to be any skiing today - which turns out to be good, because last week my back went out, and it still is not quite back to normal. This week I am limiting my exercising to walking and back stretches! It's the classic case: since starting work one month ago I had stopped doing my back exercising routine because at night I was too tired - and promptly paid the price!

The sale of the apartment is likely be further delayed, as it's unlikely that my sisters and I will find a time to clean it out together before July. Physically and mentally it would be too hard for me to do it on my own. So it looks like in the spring I'll recover from my job, travel to Portland for a visit (I can already tell that I'll need more dental work!) and return to close this chapter of my life. I have pretty much decided to stay at a minimum until early fall. In July I'll have to decide whether to rerent my Portland house or to keep it available for myself. In the summer I'll also look for a job, either here or back in the US.

My aunt told me that she has decided to move into a nursing home as soon as a room becomes available. This represents another unknown in my life. She is relying on me to help her move and clean out her apartment. I can't do this while staying at the job. The call could come tomorrow or in 6 months... I'll somehow deal with it when it comes, but I can't deal with it for now!

Building the ski run - in front of the bakery.

The ramp from which the races started - from the window of my room in St. Moritz.

Recovering in the sun on my weekend off. Near San Gian.

Getting into the holiday spirit.

Identity Crisis

2010-11-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

There once was a woman who had it all: a cute little house in beautiful Portland, Oregon, an interesting job, two adult children whom she saw several times a year, a garden to tend, fresh produce galore, a soothing yoga studio, a challenging Italian book club, many friends with whom to hike, camp, visit, laugh and enough spare time to enjoy all of the above.

Now I feel like just the shell of my former self, stuffed with memories and a deep sense of loss. My new job is taking up all my waking hours and all my energy. When I finally get home in the evening, after a simple dinner I barely have time to respond to the most urgent emails before collapsing. I am feeling bloated from eating bad food. We are required to purchase the bakery's lunch. There is no choice as to the menu. Napkins are obviously too expensive to waste on staff. Afternoon snack consists of bread (plain, no grain nor whole wheat which also probably are too expensive to waste on staff), butter, jam, and lukewarm tea - daily. I have started to supplement with fruit and yogurt but still feel like I am eating too much bread and generally not well enough. I miss cooking my own food, I miss sharing it with friends and family.

I live in a beautiful area in the heart of the Alps but I get only short glimpses of the mountains, mostly when it's dark. They then feel like protective friends waiting for me and I yearn for them.

What ever constituted the frame of my life and whatever allowed me to define my personality is gone. I no longer have time to go to the ladies' evening gym, I don't have time to watch my customary Sunday night movie on Netflix, I no longer have time to follow the environmental news. I definitely don't have time to travel to the lowlands to see friends, or to entertain guests. The feeling of social isolation is aggravated by the looming holidays. I never got much into the commercial aspect of Christmas - for me it's about cocooning in the decorated and lit-up house, playing Christmas music and baking up a storm. It's about kids coming home and cozy times with friends and family.

So, who is Irene? The former webfoot, the happy mountain goat or the exhausted bakery girl? Whichever, I am still wondering whether I should stick with this job or quit. I am tempted to reclaim my life and myself in the process, but at the same time I am afraid I would feel like a quitter. How did Sarah Palin do it, to quit the job as governor of Alaska without feeling bad about it? Oh... to have her gall... If I quit I'd feel like I'd let down my colleagues who have patiently been training me in the subtleties of packaging up delicate pastries (see below). I would also preclude myself from getting another job in Switzerland, since my current employer would not issue the precious work certificate. Meanwhile my time for quitting is running out, since starting on Dec. 1 I'll have to give one month notice.

To my family and friends in the US: best wishes for a warm and cozy Thanksgiving. I'll be with you in my thoughts!

View from my bedroom in Zuoz.

Heaps of snow at the Zuoz train station.

My aunt and my father were born in the little house. My aunt lived in it until her late 60's at which time she then moved into the larger house - directly next door. She still lives there, by herself, at 93.

The pastry makers at the bakery create veritable works of art. This is a chocolate eclair morphed into a swan. Nobody bought this poor little guy so I felt sorry for him and took him home to give him a dignified end.

Nothing but Work

2010-11-16T12:27:00.000-08:00

I didn't do very well in my resolve to make the best of my days off. My cold forced me to spend last week's days off resting. I have the next two days off, but I am hoping to travel to St. Gallen to cook for my aunt. They won't be relaxing days, but I want to do it for her.

So, since I didn't do anything write-worthy on my days off, this post will be all about work. Pretty soon, I am afraid, I won't have anything left to write about because I suspect that work stories will get boring rather quickly.

This job has definitely propelled me into another world. It consists of the bosses, two brothers, who come to the bakery almost every day. There's the "glider" (see last week's post), and his brother who will actually help out in the store when necessary. The other day he took an hour to teach me about the different chocolates. He was impressed by how much I had remembered from his previous lecture and I am hoping that he will teach me some more. Meanwhile I have learned that the business belongs to 4 siblings. As far as I understand they don't get along and the two working in the store have pretty much their hands tied by the other two. Meaning they are unhappy and therefore they are unable to care about the happiness of the staff.

The staff is multi-national. In the store we are only 2 Swiss. One, a very hard worker, is Portuguese, and 2 are German. They both are challenging, one because she doesn't like to be given advice despite the fact that she is prone to mistakes, the other because she is a loud motor mouth. Business is very slow this month (good for learning!) so there are many downtimes with nothing to do. We are not allowed to eat or drink on the job (I am losing weight since I cannot snack every two hours!), nor to read the paper or do anything else, meaning that when there are no clients there is nothing else to do but talk with each other. And often I'd just rather stand there in silence than have to listen to that talking! The Swiss woman is great, but this job definitely has catapulted me down from my rarified air into a mercyless tough world. One of the German women, whom I'll call Hilde, has filed 3 times for divorce but still spends most of her time off with her husband. She has taken a room at Hanselmann's, but lets him visit her there when she doesn't go home. She wants a divorce because he keeps on having lovers. Hilde threw one lover into a creek in the winter and the poor woman got pneumonia. Hilde also told Interpol some kind of story that led them to stop another lover at the German border and sequester her car, although Hilde knew that the lover was innocent. The car was returned, but only 6 weeks later. There is an unending supply of similarly hairy stories. I am not sure which to believe, but if they are not true, I give Hilde credit for a great imagination.

Hanselmann's is a mini United Nations - although we are not united at all. The Germans hate the Portuguese, calling them Portos, forgetting that they are foreigners as well. The Portuguese do the most dirty work. I am not sure whether they fight a lot amongst themselves, or if loud voices is just a normal way of communicating. Sometimes the screams come all the way down to the store through the food elevator. The waitresses are from Sud-Tirol, the part of Italy near the Swiss border, where they speak German. The cook and one of the bakers are Italian and Italian is the common language throughout the business. Except that the Germans don't understand a word of it.

On my first day I was given the job of answering the phone on the 3rd ring. Neither the Germans nor the Portuguese understand Swiss German, meaning that when the other Swiss woman is not there, I am the only one who can deal with whatever language the caller speaks. My high German (as opposed to Swiss German) has improved a lot over the last 2 weeks, as it's the common language among the women in the store. This means that I am constantly switching back and forth between high German, Swiss German and Italian, with sprinklings of French and English! Giving change in any language other than French still is challenging, especially at the end of the day when I'm getting tired.

Talking about being tired... It's time for me to go to bed, and this post is long enough for today. That means that I'll have more stories next week. I do want to end on a positive note: last night I stayed in St. Moritz because I went to a yoga class. It's very expensive (the equivalent of some $30!) and of course it was not as good that my Portland yoga class, but it was better than nothing, and today I have sore muscles, meaning I really needed it. I am therefore planning to go back when I can. After all I have to treat myself to something, otherwise the winter will be long and unbearable.

My mother died today, November 16, exactly 40 years ago. She was taken to the hospital on my birthday, two days earlier. Ever since, her death and my birthday have been inextricably linked. Rather than complaining about getting old, I am grateful for the gift of life and I am trying to age gracefully.

Taking a walk along lake St. Moritz during my break.

Fresh snow in Zuoz.

Another lunch break walk.

The town of St. Moritz. The store is next to the church.

Courageous or stupid?

2010-11-08T11:39:00.001-08:00

Could it be possible that working is not good for your health? I have been on the job for just one week, and I have already caught a cold - the first one since moving to Switzerland, so indeed the conclusion is obvious!

Yes, I started work last Monday, November 1. I can't decide whether I am courageous or stupid to stick with it. It is quite the job from hell. The only redeeming factor is the colleagues, all extremely nice. So far most of my workdays have been from 8am to 7pm, five days a week, for a total of 45 hours per week. When I was offered the job, I called the bakers' guild and was told that the legal working week is 42 hours. Before signing the contract I asked the owner of the bakery about the 45 hours week - and he explained that the business was structured like that. Period. End of conversation. Take it or leave it.

The 9 daily hours of work are not consecutive. If I start at 8am, I work until 11:30 - no break. At that time I eat lunch. It's provided by the bakery (which also is a restaurant). It's not optional, and its cost is deducted from our salary. There is no choice, definitely not cafeteria style: you eat the dish that's waiting for you on the table. Fortunately I am not a picky eater and the food is rather good. A lot of meat thought, and although I am not a big meat eater, I do eat it, figuring I need the protein to make it through the afternoon. After lunch I have a long break, until 1:30pm. I have rented a room in the bakery's building and that's where I spend part of the break, putting my feet up, away from people, enjoying a cup of coffee. I have to buy the coffee at the restaurant, because there isn't anywhere in the whole house (5 floors) where the employees can help themselves to a hot beverage, or make one. I then make a point of going for a walk - after all this is St. Moritz, and there are many great options to catch some fresh air and get a bit of exercise.

I am back on the job at 1:30pm and work until 7pm with one 15' break. In the store there is no place to sit - meaning I am on my feet during all this time. There's a twist to the above schedule: the work day actually starts at 7:55am but finishes at 7pm - meaning that we actually work another 25 minutes per week without additional pay.

The business is owned by two brothers. One has a small office next to the store. He keeps a very sharp eye on the store, making sure that all the many rules and best practices are rigorously observed. When we are understaffed he helps out and therefore has a good sense of life in the store. The other brother is responsible for the business side of the enterprise. His office is basically inaccessible, at the back of the hall on the third floor. Once in a while he glides through the store. He takes no notice of us. We must be invisible for he never talks to us, other than remark when there are mistakes with the cash register. No hello, no how are you doing, no small talk of any kind, no thank you - great job. It blows my mind. If I were the owner of a business like this I'd want to know my employees, I'd want to take an interest in them, I'd want to make sure that we are a well functioning team, I'd want to motivate them to do their best. He depends on us to make money, but he doesn't seem to see us as an important component of his establishment.

There's so much to tell about my new life that it can't possibly fit into one post that my friends would read to the end. So I'll leave it at this for now. Next week I'll write about our uniforms, about my colleagues, about how I was assigned to pick up the phone, and about the clients.

All this being said, I did have 2 days off last week, and fortunately the weather was gorgeous and very mild. On the first day I just went for a walk in the afternoon after having done my chores in the morning. On the 2nd day, however, I went downhill skiing to the only area that's open. You take a sky tram up to 9,000 feet and then you ski up there using one relatively short chair lift. Not very exciting per se, but the scenery was stunning, it was very mild, not a cloud in the sky, perfect powder and no people. It couldn't have been any better. Since I bought the season's pass, I didn't feel bad about quitting after just 90 minutes of skiing. There was only one run, which I did some 6-7 times, gaining some more confidence each time. Then my bad knee started complaining, and besides, the one lonely run was getting boring. Although short, this day definitely lifted my spirits. I am determined to push myself to do fun activities on my days off, despite my exhaustion!

Pictures:

1. A new sight: Irene at work.
2. My lovely room in St. Moritz. The living conditions at the lodge in South Africa were better.
3. Walking along Lake St. Moritz last week.
4. Walking along Lake St. Moritz today (we got over a foot of snow in the last 24 hours).
5. Downhill skiing at Diavolezza. Note the spray of powder behind the skiers.

The End of Unemployment

2010-10-31T02:55:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-25T01:42:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-16T09:09:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-08T08:47:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-01T21:01:00.000-07:00

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.

Stumptown

2010-09-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

I have been in Portland already for a week, and I am squeezing some writing between 2 appointments. I am exhausted - and numb. People ask me how it feels to be back - and frankly I don't know. I have been in a daze ever since I got off the plane, 25 hours after leaving my home in Zuoz. For the first 2 days I blamed the trip for my tiredness. Then I got a stomach bug and lost my appetite for a couple of days. Barely recovered from that I had major dental work done - and for the last 24 hours have moved around in a pain-killer induced fog. In all, I have never felt like myself since arriving. Living in a house that is not mine (Marianne's), learning to get around without a car (thank you my dear friends who have given me rides over the last few days: Eric, Jill, Marianne, Katherine, Rosine, Ernst, Jody, Larry, Ken, Hannah, Ron, Velma), dealing with many appointments and paperwork, it is all taking up much energy. I alternate less fun appointments with outings and meals with friends and I think I have struck a good balance - except there is no time for myself alone until I collapse at night - hence no time to write. This blog has become addictive. I have gotten used to periodically taking some time out to reflect over the previous few days, and when I don't take time to stop and assess where I am at, I feel like I am losing myself. I gradually go on autopilot instead of consciously following a thread. Since I was a child writing has been both a joy and therapeutic - now more than ever.

So, frankly, I don't know how it feels to be back. I hope to soon snap out of my lethargy - after all, one of the goals of this trip is to find out how it feels to be back in Portland. Everything definitely feels very comfortable. Coming from a dry climate and rather stark landscape, I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the vegetation that seems to be taking over the yards and the streets. Portland has had a miserable summer, which translates into much humidity -the ideal condition for vigorous growth! Surprisingly little has changed over the last 9 months and therefore it doesn't feel like I have been gone so long. I don't have a routine, but then I haven't had one since I lost the job, so I am also used to that feeling. I was apprehensive about seeing my house, but I couldn't let this fear prevent me from visiting my neighbors. In the end I even had to step into my house, as I had an issue to discuss with my tenants. It felt a little strange - nothing more. Despite the numbness, I am very moved by the support of my friends. I feel like everybody is going out of their way (literally) to spend some time with me and to help me.

I ran into the first acquaintance at Dulles Airport, waiting for my connecting flight to Portland: Tom, with whom I have been working on various issues since 1995. I had barely gone through immigration and already I was in the midst of a political discussion. I loved it! On my first morning as I was waiting for a bus, a car stopped at the nearby light started honking: a neighbor - who didn't even know I was in town! And just this afternoon, I again was waiting for the bus at the same stop, when a car pulled over and the door opened: Ron, who was in Zuoz just 10 days ago! Note that this is a major 4 lane highway and the odds that a friend would drive by just as I stand there are less than remote! Nevertheless, these coincidences made me feel that my ties to Portland still are very strong.

Getting around with public transportation requires much planning. I discovered that the buses run noticeably less frequently now and the days when I could just walk to the stop and wait for the next one are over. An additional problem is that they sometimes run several minutes ahead of schedule, with dramatic consequences, especially on a Sunday, when they run only once an hour. While I don't fear for my safety, my fellow passengers can be intimidating: today I boarded a Max car full of rather unkempt men dressed in dark clothing and accompanied by fierce dogs.

While it is fun to reconnect with friends one-on-one, I also enjoy reinserting myself into groups like the aquarobics class and yoga. Despite the rain, I have been able to go on some of my favorite walks: Pittock Mansion where we ran into a group of birders looking for a warbler that usually doesn't venture west of the Mississippi, Forest Park, Council Crest... Finding out that Margaret Atwood has a new book out provided the excuse to drop in at Powell's. Marianne drove me to countless sports stores in my quest for new hiking boots and patiently waited while I was trying them on...

My stay in Portland is a kind of maintenance visit - not unlike you bring your car into the shop every so many miles: mammogram, optometrist, and as mentioned above, dentist. Many of you know about my fear of breast cancer - so here's the great news: as per last Friday's imaging I am still cancer free, thus surviving my mother by more than 15 years. Despite all my challenges, this is the best news of all and trumps all. However, at the dentist's things didn't go so well. Since I had had a toothache for many weeks, I was bracing myself for bad news but it still hurts - literally and in the wallet. The best case scenario is "just" a new crown. The prep work was done on Tuesday and the dentist staff stressed the importance of taking anti-inflammatories and pain killers whether I felt I needed them or not, to speed up the healing process. To start with, 3 ibuprofen as soon as I got home. So I stopped at a drugstore to fill my Vicodin prescription and buy some ibuprofen, which I swallowed on the spot - before noticing I had bought ibuprofen PM - which induces drowsiness - 600 mg in total. Then, being obedient, I still took a Vicodin before going to bed - which was unusually early! Surprise: I slept like a log, and definitely didn't feel any pain! However, the whole next day I felt like my head was in the fog... I am not used to taking painkillers!

Tomorrow I am off to the Desert Conference near Antelope. I can't wait to visit with the desert rats and to see eastern Oregon's wide open spaces. It means that I won't have any internet access until I return to Portland, on Sunday night.

Pictures:

1: Forest Park, the largest urban park in the US
2: Watching clouds from the back of Marianne's car
3: Larry's beer can chicken. It was delicious!
4: Fall morning in Washington county.

Portland, here I come!

2010-09-13T06:43:00.000-07:00

Ron and Ria left this morning. There were no tears at the train station because in 2 days it's my turn to fly to Oregon and I can see them again before the end of the week! It feels strange to be doing the trip in the other direction, going to Oregon for a vacation and to see family and friends - instead of just plain going home. I admit to some apprehension. I frankly don't know how I'll feel being back in the city where I have lived longer than anywhere else. Will it be hard to leave again to return to Zuoz? Knowing myself it will. As a friend remarked: I tend to live in the moment, and wherever I am, I am happy and can't imagine being equally happy somewhere else.

Yet, no earlier than yesterday, after one more perfect fall day in the mountains and a no less perfect meal of venison, spaetzle, chanterelles and chestnuts, I was wondering how I could ever move away from here, from all this beauty, from a life that is such a good fit for me. However, it is also true that the life I have known since the end of January is coming to an end. In the immediate future there's this trip to Oregon (leaving Wednesday, Sept. 15). When I return I'll have another 2 weeks before starting my job at the bakery. Since I'll be working long hours with no certainty that I'll have time for a visit to the lowlands before spring, I think I'll spend them on a new round of visits to my sister, my aunt and friends. I am afraid that with the start of the job on November 1, the times of fun in the sun and/or with friends will be over.

The day after Ernst's departure I was myself getting ready to take the train to visit my aunt in St. Gallen for a couple of days when the door bell rang. Nobody ever rings my door bell... An older gentleman whom I didn't recognize immediately stood there. As soon as he said my name I knew who he was: my high school German teacher! He was vacationing in the area and was dropping in for a visit. Obviously the timing was not good, and we settled on getting together a few days later for a walk. We had reconnected after Dad's funeral and stayed in touch ever since. He is one of the lead authorities on Swiss wildflowers and I have been using his 2" thick field guide all summer to identify alpine flowers. Both our walk and the visit to the pastry shop were very sweet (!). I led him and his partner to the strikingly wild and breathtakingly beautiful Chaste Peninsula on Lake Sils. Due to the late season there were not many flowers still in bloom, but he was able to identify several species by looking at the seed heads. The conversation was alternating between botany and life, our kids and the arts... Another privileged moment allowing me to tie the present back to the past. Like all my high school teachers, he was part of the glue that kept me together after my mother's premature death.

The visit to my aunt also was a lot of fun. She is doing so much better than in the winter. She has gotten back her sense of humor and her laughter, which make my stays there very rewarding. Since I don't have anything else to do, and as I am becoming familiar with her kitchen, I am becoming increasingly daring, preparing gourmet meals and baking. She and her friend are extremely appreciative, eating with evident gusto peppered with good conversation. These visits definitely are a primary ingredient to my Lemonade. What a treat to be able to spend all this time with her, to laugh with her, to pick her brain about the past, to be able to serve her a few good meals!

As to the visit with Ron and Ria - it couldn't have been any better. The weather was bad when they arrived, but it got better every day. I spent the last 2 days hiking in shorts, which I had not been able to do in at least 2 weeks. The high meadows are now tinted with fall hues: intense reds, ocher, tawny. I had never been here in September and was not expecting this symphony of colors. Since the trees all are conifers, the forest still is entirely green, although the larches will eventually turn golden. I am expecting to come back to a blazing valley - provided they keep their needles until my return on October 15! Although not expert hikers, Ron and Ria were great sports, following me without any complaints up and down more miles than they had bargained for. I know that the incredible weather, the sharp fall light on the forests, rocks and glaciers worked their magic and made them forget the sweat and the pains.

To all my Oregon friends: I'll have my computer with me and therefore will be reachable by email. I'll also have a cell phone but don't want to post the number on the internet. If you want it, send me an email and I'll respond with the number.

View of Lake Sils from Chaste Peninsula

Landslide in Val Roseg. I walked on this trail about 2 weeks ago - and the landslide had not yet happened. With the loss of permafrost due to global warming such events are much more frequent than in the past.

The loss of permafrost requires extensive protection above towns, roads and train tracks. Here are some contraptions protecting the UNESCO Wold Heritage Bernina train line at Alp Gruem.

The irresistible reward at the end of a tough hike: Hotel Val Roseg.

Namaste

2010-09-03T07:49:00.000-07:00

Ernst left this morning. The week felt like a vacation, as all I did was play. The emails and the dust bunnies accumulated while we were hiking, chatting, having fun. I am enjoying this rhythm: a few days playing and catching up with a friend followed by a few days of time to catch up with myself, and before I am feeling lonely, the next visitors arrive. All visits share commonalities, the hiking, the complaining about the bad weather, the meals enjoyed with good conversation. At the same time, each guest is different, leading to different dynamics. It's never boring, it's always a pleasure to not only rediscover my friends, but also to get to know them better. The scene at the Zuoz train station keeps on repeating itself, with my departing guests thanking me, and me feeling that I am the one who needs to thanks for the always enriching days.

Ernst's visit was very much like all others with respect to the weather and the expectations I had for hiking versus the reality. The weather was dismal on the day he arrived, and on Tuesday the snowline was once again way below the tree line, thus precluding any high elevation hiking. It stayed very cold the whole day and as a result very little snow melted until Wednesday. On Wednesday we made adjustments with a relatively low elevation hike to the National Park, and yesterday, finally on his last day, all snow being again gone, we did the proverbial high elevation hike with the expected views of the glaciers. And just like my others visitors, he was a good sport, seemingly satisfied with the less interesting walks we took on the bad weather days.

The season is turning. The snow has brought the animals closer to the valley floor, which resulted in spectacular sightings in the National Park. Through my open window I hear cowbells, as they have brought the livestock back down from the alps to graze in the fields around town. Two days ago was the opening day of the hunting season - a huge deal here. Once in a while we heard shots while hiking, but I definitely don't feel as threatened as during hunting season in Oregon. The positive upshot for non hunters is the appearing of venison on the restaurant menus and last night Ernst treated me to the most delicious meal.

The exciting event of the week was Wednesday night's yoga class. No, alas, I did not find a yoga studio. However, I taught a class to some 15 ladies of the gym club, 14 of which had never been exposed to yoga before. Our instructor injured her knee last winter, even before my arrival. Ever since then, each week saw a scramble for a sub. Recently I was having coffee with a few members of the steering committee and they were discussing the need for more subs, the difficulty of finding any... when I timidly offered, in case they really were in a bind, to teach a yoga class. I clearly explained that I was not trained to do so, that I had never taught yoga and that in effect, I had no idea of what I was doing... but in their desperation they accepted. Since this is all done on a volunteer basis, I figured I was not really taking any risks. Moreover, I decided that this was going to be enjoyable and easy to give them a positive taste of yoga. No fire butt pose, no pretzel poses. The lack of props was a challenge: no blocks, blankets or straps. We had mats but they were too soft, too deep, offering poor support. I tried to give them a taste of a variety of poses, focusing on posture and breathing, leading them through stretches and partner poses, challenging them in combinations of movements in sun salutations and downward dog/plank/cobra suites. Shavasana, the final relaxation, was an interesting experience: 15 women lying in front of me, listening to my voice lead them into a state of total relaxation and oblivion, and then slowly bringing them back... It was very powerful. We ended with the traditional greeting, namaste... which then was followed by unexpected and generous applause by my yogini.

Pictures:

1. The woods are now full of mushrooms. I even found the chanterelles at my dad's secret location.
2. The village of Sent, near Scuol, out of which we did a hike into the Val Sinestra.
3. Elk grazing in the National Park. We saw over 100 elks, a number of ibex, 3 chamois, countless marmots.
4. On Alp Gruem, facing the Palu Glacier.

Distractions

2010-08-27T06:59:00.000-07:00

This week was recovery from the big disappointment of not getting the IUCN job. Meanwhile I found out why I didn't get it:I have been unemployed for too long. This is very discouraging news. I have now applied for jobs both in the US and in Switzerland. I am getting interviews, once in a while. My age is a major strike against me and now I also have an issue because of the length of my unemployment. What am I supposed to do about it? All the hours spent on the computer, all the hopes, all the uncertainties, all the anxiety, will nothing ever come of it because I am too old, and now, on top of it, I have been unemployed for too long?

To add insult to injury, this morning, just after I booked my trip to Oregon, I got a call asking me to teach an English class starting in September! Since I won't be here for 4 weeks I was not able to accept. This is another major problem with unemployment: it is very difficult to make plans. One is constantly in limbo, never knowing what is ahead. The only way to get certainty is to give up - and I am not ready to do so.

Meanwhile I have started to look for someone interested in buying the apartment. For now it's a rational undertaking for something that will not happen until spring. At the same time I am very aware that this will be a difficult and painful process.

After the IUCN news I was anticipating a difficult weekend and so I packed it with activities to keep busy until my friend Rachel from Portland arrived - on Sunday afternoon. All week we had glorious late summer weather. It was once again warm enough to wear shorts and quaff a beer at the end of a hike. I had been anxiously waiting for Rachel's arrival because she is an excellent hiker and I had kept a few challenging outings for her. As I do with all my guests, I picked hikes that would allow her to discover the key areas of the valley. The best hike was to the Coaz Hut, in the back of Val Roseg. It was a long day (we were gone for 12 hours, 6 of them hiking) but possibly one of the most beautiful hikes I have ever done around here. We spent the whole day facing glaciers and surrounded by the roar of the torrents gushing out of these glaciers. I was so grateful for Rachel's company, as I still believe that it's not a good idea to do such hikes alone. Rachel brought a Scrabble board and it was an opportunity to test my English skills. I didn't do great, but I think the daily online crossword puzzle from The Oregonian helped.

As part of my recovery plan, I spent Saturday helping to build a stone wall. This was organized by the birders, in conjunction with the hunting candidates. Indeed, before you can get your hunting license you have to undergo a thorough training that includes marksmanship, a theoretical course with an exam, and required volunteer work. The whole program can take over one year. This cooperation between birders and hunters made for a curious group, the birders being mostly seniors and the hunters strong young men. Stone walls, which in many countries all over the world mark the boundaries between pastures, are considered important wildlife habitat. They harbor lizards, snakes, frogs, many insects, mice - all prey for birds. The farmer on whose property we worked ended up with a beautiful new wall and to thank us, his wife fed us - both mid-morning snack (substantial sandwiches) and a hearty lunch with many cakes for desert. Since she is the author of a cookbook it was the farming equivalent of gourmet food!

On Sunday I hiked up to Alp Belvair with the Zuoz folks. An "alp" is a meadow above the treeline where the cows spend the summer on communal pastures. Each town has its own alp, or several. It hires a caretaker (cowboy?) who lives in the alp buildings and keeps an eye on the livestock. The Zuoz town Council invited all the inhabitants as well as the tourists for a lunch up on the alp. About 40 of us met at 10am in the upper part of the village and hiked for some 90 minutes in the blazing hot sun to the alp. The very old, and handicapped were offered a ride in a Jeep. Fortunately one of the gym ladies was part of the group - so I had somebody to talk to. This is one of the weak points of the Swiss. There is no icebreaker, no welcoming of single or new people. Everybody else had come with the family or part of a group, and these entities are not open to newcomers.

Alp Belvair is perched high up above town, overlooking the valley and affording a stunning view of the string of villages below and the snow-capped peaks to the south in the Bernina area. We were greeted with white wine - at 11:30am! At noon we were served a variety of grilled meats and sausages, along with a mushroom and saffron risotto.

I stayed until 2pm - sitting in the full sun. Anticipating the effects of alcohol, sun and heat, I limited myself to water, except for a glass of red wine with the meal. I couldn't believe how much drinking was taking place and I still wonder how some of the folks managed to hike back to town. Despite my restraint, I returned with quite a headache. It was a very colorful event. Young fathers pushed strollers up an elevation gain of some 500 meters and were congratulated with rounds of applause upon arrival. Kids were running back and forth, inventing mysterious games requiring only imagination. The dogs had fun too, chasing each other between tables and kids. A Swiss folk music band played (accordion, clarinet, upright bass), and some attempted dancing on the uneven and sloping ground.

Rachel left this morning. The weather has turned rainy and the forecast is not good - possible snow early next week! I hope it is wrong because next week Ernst is visiting and I have a few good hikes in store for him.

Pictures:

1. Chamanna Coaz, a hut belonging to the Swiss Mountaineering Club
2. Building the stone wall
3. Lunch on Alp Belvair
4. Video of band playing Swiss folk music.

Subtext

2010-08-20T11:11:00.000-07:00

What I couldn't write last week was that my impromptu trip to the Geneva area actually was to Gland, to an interview with IUCN - International Union for Conservation of Nature, for the position of administrative assistant for their global marine program. It would have been a very interesting job, with a decent salary. It would have required me to relocate to the Geneva area, which I was ready to do. It would have been the swan song to my career. Today I got the news that I wasn't the chosen candidate. I am very disappointed. While the work and the money would have been great, I also very much need to settle somewhere, to have an idea of what my life is going to look like over the next few years.

At least I now know what I'll do over the next few months. While my IUCN application was pending, I was offered the job at the St. Moritz bakery for the winter season. I'll start on Nov. 1 and it will go until sometime in April. That means that I'll stay here in my Dad's apartment in Zuoz until then. Of course, I don't have the faintest idea of what I'll do after that.

At least now I can move on and make some plans. And I do have a plan: on Sept. 15, as per my original ticket, I'll fly to Portland for some fresh air. I am planning to stay for about 4 weeks, go to the dentist, get new glasses, etc. I am hoping to take a trip to the desert, probably taking in the Desert Conference, which would allow me to sniff some sage and to see all my desert friends. I might also take a side trip to San Francisco to spend some time with Claire. I'll try to dive into my storage unit and retrieve my downhill skis and a few other essentials like my brand new Sorels that I decided were too heavy to take along...

Given the above uncertainties and the reflections, as per my last posting, last week was filled with some trepidation and anxiety. I was very grateful for the visit of Christiane and Gilbert. I met them both in Geneva in the 70s but they moved to Neuchatel shortly after I left the country. Since they were in the same town as Dad, it was easy for me to keep in touch, catching a quick cup of tea with Christiane between cooking meals for Dad. I don't know how I would have survived the week without them. They did the thinking for me when I was too spaced out to think straight, Christiane planned and executed meals, they treated me to fine dining, chauffeured me around and made me laugh. In return I acted as hiking guide, and they seemed to be satisfied with my choices. Surprisingly, the weather cooperated reasonably well.

With Gilbert, in the National Park.

Graves of Benedictine sisters in the Saint John Convent of Mustair, founded in the 8th century.

Art in Pontresina

D.P.

2010-08-14T11:07:00.000-07:00

Tonight I returned from a quick impromptu trip to the Geneva area. While there it was somewhat summer-like, on the 3rd train (out of 5) I had to trade my shorts for jeans, and when train #4 pulled out of the tunnel and into the valley, it was pouring. I had to add the parka to the other two layers. It's raining, cold, the clouds are hanging down the sides of the mountains and I am having a tough time.

I am alone for the first time since July 17. I guess I am a sociable being after all. Tonight feels lonely. I miss Claire and my sisters, and I am sorry I could not attend Martin's 60th birthday party where, I am sure, so many of my friends were. I am a D.P. or a Displaced Person. Of course I am very mindful that I have nothing to complain about. The weather is lousy, but I am safe with a good roof over my head and food in the fridge. My heart goes out to the Pakistani. Yet, the fact that millions of people are so much worse off than me, doesn't make my predicament any easier.

I had been impatiently waiting for my sisters to visit so we could make decisions with respect to the apartment. And we did. We are going to put it on the market and hope that it will sell by spring. I know it needs to happen, but it signals the end of my stay here. That of course raises the big question of what will come next. I have decided to again rent my house when the current tenants leave because it's welcome income. It means, however, that I cannot return to my house in Portland and it forces me to be creative about my next steps. I cannot envision returning to Portland with an unemployment rate of over 10% and therefore basically no hope of finding work. Once the apartment is sold I cannot stay in the valley either, because I cannot afford to buy anything else with my share of the sale. Which is the reason for my trip to the lowlands. I need to explore other options than Portland or Zuoz.

So, although I am still here in my cozy apartment, I am already grieving for it. I am grieving for my life in Portland, I am grieving for my lost job, for my dad, and starting now, for this valley and the new life I have created here for myself. How can I be a D.P. at my mature age?

I thought I had it made. I had it all. Good job, great kids, cute little house, nice garden, health, friends, a beautiful natural environment. I liked my life and was acutely aware, especially since my return from Africa, how privileged I was. And yes, much worse could have happened. But still, I lost the life I loved and was so comfortable with. I lost the job and voluntarily gave up the remainder. I thought it was a temporary time out, an adventure. Yet, in the back of my mind, I knew that I was playing with fire. Can one ever go back to things as they used to be? Everything I was taking for granted is now uncertain. The raspberries I planted before abandoning my garden, the humming birds going back and forth between the feeder and the plum tree, the sea breeze on summer nights, dropping in at my neighbors for a cup of tea, running into friends at the Hillsdale farmers market. Should I completely give up on skiing on Mt. Bachelor with Marianne, and the mochas at the end of the day? When will I again load up a good rig to drive across the mountains into the sagebrush country with a friend at my side providing exciting conversation and healthy perspectives on life? How important is it for me to head out into the Coast Range in the fall to collect enough chanterelles to concoct a yummy meal for a friend? Can I be happy without the hope to spot a cinnamon teal? Will I miss the frenetic December baking and then doing the rounds of my friends with the cookie plates, thereby acknowledging who is important in my life and adds value to it? What about the environmental community, these old friendships cemented by our common hope to save the planet despite all odds? And how can I live so far from the people I love the most, my kids? Can I be without Thanksgiving and the family Christmas, the comings and going of kids, and partners, and friends, and relatives of all of the above? Will I fall apart if I destroy the canvass of my life?

Here I am, all by myself, with nothing to hold on to, except my sense of myself. Everything that defined me has receded into the past. I thought I would easily recreate it all after a hiatus in Switzerland but now I fear that nothing will ever again be the same. I don't have a choice. I have been swept away by a current and I don't know on what island it will deposit me. I trust that it will be beautiful and that I will grow to love it and to accept it as my new home and life. But there is much pain and grief in letting go of a life that I used to describe as perfect.

All this would be exciting if I still were in my twenties, a time in life when I wanted to see new places and discover both the world and who I am. I have already been around the block a couple of times and now I'd like to reap the fruits of the life I have so carefully constructed. Nomads travel with their tribes. I have to do it alone.

These are painful questions and thoughts I am facing as I am trying to figure out the next step in my life. I could take it the easy way and return to Portland with the hope that my savings will last for the rest of my life. But what would I do with the rest of my life? As much as I loved my life in Portland, I will not be able to rebuild it as it was. Worse, I don't think I can rebuild it in Portland - at least not now.

Just in case you thought I spent the week moping around, despite the above reflections that was not the case. Here are a few pictures to reassure you that I am still having fun:

1: Summer hike with my sisters. This is not mountaineering, but what should have been a walk in flower-studded fields. We hiked for 3 hours in a foot of fresh snow. Brigitte (living in Switzerland) is on the left, Francoise (now splitting her time between Australia and Switzerland) in on the right.

2: The next day we got soaked in a thunderstorm above the tree line.

3: Parasails on Lake Silvaplana.

4. The sweetness of a summer night on Lake Geneva.

Flying cows

2010-08-05T04:59:00.000-07:00

Today's high is 9 C, or 48 F. It's pouring cats and dogs, non stop, and the clouds shroud most of anything there's to see from our big window. I dread the moment when they will lift and we'll see all the fresh snow. Claire and Colin are leaving tomorrow - they will have been here for a little over 10 days, during which we managed only 3 hikes. Two of those were downgrades from more ambitious hikes because they took turns being sick, Claire with a cold that won't go away, Colin with digestive issues. Between their illnesses and the generally bad weather, I feel lucky that we had those hikes. At least the weather forecasting is getting more accurate and when they are announcing a good day, we pounce, ill or not!

So today is another quiet day at home, recovering, nursing our ailments, and doing some basic cleaning for the apartment to be presentable for my sisters who are arriving tonight. For those who don't know my family: Brigitte lives in Switzerland, near Lausanne, and we have been seeing each other quite regularly since my arrival here, despite the many hours on the train between Zuoz and her place. My other sister is Francoise who lives in Australia. I haven't seen her since last August, when we were up here together. She recently retired and she and her husband are currently spending several months in Switzerland. It will be fun to spend some time the three of us. We also have business to do together, among others we have to make some decisions with respect to this apartment.

Last Sunday was August 1, a big deal in Switzerland, since it's Swiss National Day celebrating the founding of the Confederation in 1291. Representatives of the three original cantons (our "states") organized an uprising against the Austrian occupiers and the signal to start the rebellion was bonfires lit in a prominent place in each of the three territories - where they could be seen by the other rebels. Today August 1 is celebrated in each town and village, with tables set up in the village square, music, food and drinks. The elected officials make long and inspiring speeches. When it gets dark there's a parade of the children carrying paper lanterns, which always causes much anxieties for the parents because the lanterns are lit by candles and prone to catching fire when the wind doesn't blow out the candles. It all is more fun when it doesn't rain - which this year it did not, fortunately! The parade leads to the site of the local bonfire and everybody then assembles around it. From that location you can then see the fires of the surrounding towns, and some others lit on various mountains. It's very beautiful. Cities also offer official fireworks while people buy their own and blow them off pretty much wherever strikes their fancy, without much regard for anybody's safety. Even those that are illegal in the state of Washington are legal here! It's quite scary!

The above paragraph was written from memory, because this year I didn't see any of it. The Zuoz celebration is organized by the Ladies' Gym Club, of which I am a proud member. I was asked to bake a cake that was then sold on the village square. Here there's no such thing as a commercially certified kitchen! Some of you know of my reputation as a master baker, and despite the strong competition of the Swiss women, my cake went so fast, I actually never saw it offered for sale. I still suspect the organizing ladies to have eaten it themselves. I wouldn't blame them - for putting this celebration together is an extraordinary amount of work. I was also asked to work for a shift - and I opted for the late one. And so it is that from 8:30pm to almost 1am I played waitress on the village square. It actually was fun and the time just flew. When all the revelers had gone home we still had to take everything down, put everything away, from the flags to the coffee makers. And the next morning at 9am (after some 6 hours of sleep) I was back in the village to help clean the grills (we had been grilling and selling sausages and kebabs).

When it was all done, the four of us went to the cafe. We were joined by the friend of one of the ladies. She was quite a bit older than me, and politely introduced herself - Katrin Baschnonga. I asked her if she was related to the former butcher, Herr Baschnonga. She opened big eyes and said that she was his wife and co-owner of the shop. (Herr Baschnonga died and the shop closed at least 30 years ago). I told her we were former clients, that her husband always greeted us by announcing "here come the Neuenburgers" (Neuenburg being the German name for Neuchatel, my home town). She opened big eyes and said that she remembers us very well. She remembered my mother dying young and declared that I look like her - in which she is correct! So here I had made another amazing connection with my distant past. The other ladies around the table couldn't believe what they were hearing. They have all lived in Zuoz for over 20 years, but none has the very distant memories and connections that I have!

On another note: Claire and I went on a walk near town on one of those afternoons when the weather was just so-so and Colin was not feeling good. At one point we heard a helicopter. They cruise up and down the valley quite frequently, either to rescue mountaineers, or people injured in car accidents. This helicopter, however, was coming over the mountains, and hauling something quite large dangling underneath on a long rope. Since I always carry my binoculars, I whipped them out and couldn't believe what I was seeing: a cow, strapped to the rope by a harness. It was quite a sight and I was feeling very sorry for that cow, hoping she had been tranquilized before takeoff. Claire was relieved that the cow was not being flown right above us, as she has a long history of being pooped on from above by all kinds of animals, until now primarily by birds and squirrels.

Pictures:

1. Claire and me hiking (picture by Colin).
2. Prepared bonfire (picture taken by Colin).
3. Waitressing on First of August (picture taken by Claire).
4. The flying cow (picture taken from the internet because I was too dumbstruck to think of getting my camera out. Turns out it's a common mode of transport for Swiss cows. The farmers have insurance paying for it.)

Claire is here

2010-07-30T13:12:00.000-07:00

For the past week we have had fresh snow on the top of the mountains every morning. When there's sun during the day it melts again, but otherwise not. The daily high has not exceeded 70 for the past 10 days or so and many fear that summer is over. We will probably get some more nice days, but no hot days. The local saying is that here there are 9 months of winter, 2 months of cold weather and 1 month of summer... and that month has already come and gone! As long as it doesn't rain all day long I don't really care. I have to carefully monitor the weather forecast to make sure we plan a good hike for the nice days - as tomorrow is supposed to be. Despite the generally bad weather we do manage to get out every day, either for a day hike, or then at a minimum for a nice afternoon walk, even if it has to be with the umbrella in the backpack.

Anne-Marie and Yvan went back home this morning, after dropping in with a bag of croissants. Having them in town for 2 weeks allowed us to really get reacquainted. We saw each other every day, if for no other reason because their paper was being delivered to my mail box. Bringing it to them was the perfect excuse to visit for at least a short while every day, compare notes on each other's hikes, share a cup of something, plan a common outing.

And then, of course, on Sunday night Claire and Colin arrived. It feels like a vacation for me as well, just like all the other times I was here with Claire. We hike, walk, cook, eat, play dice (crap - for my Sierra Club friends!). I have barely time to check my email, let alone respond. I trust you will forgive me! We took a guided tour of the village for which I provided the translation service. I am finally starting to get my local history down. For example, I now know why the oldest houses date back to the early 1500's: the valley was invaded in the late 1400's and the inhabitants of Zuoz abandoned the village, set it on fire, and went hiding into the mountains. The invaders, finding no prisoners to take and nothing to pillage, moved on. Eventually the locals returned to the village and started rebuilding.

Yesterday we did the infamous 4 hour train ride to St. Gallen and 4 hours back because Claire wished to see my aunt, which touched me a lot. Colin came along as well, but while we spent time with my aunt he visited the city and now knows much more about it than I ever did. My aunt would have been too overwhelmed with all 3 of us, and the many languages. Claire and I cooked and my aunt ate with much gusto. She had a great day, feeling well enough to get a good bottle of wine from her cellar and enjoy it as well. Claire's German surfaced from the depths of her memory and we actually had a lively conversation, my aunt recalling some of her travels to Italy, Russia when St. Petersburg still was Leningrad, and her trip to the Arctic.

Since yesterday was a long day (up at 5:30 am to catch the 6:13 train, back only at 7:30pm), today we took it easy. It was 3:30pm when we finally took off to go on a walk. As we got to the center of the village, we saw stands in the street and I remembered that it's the big yearly street fair. So we had to check it all out, chitchat with my acquaintances, taste some of the food. In the end I had to drop in at a store to buy some First of August paraphernalia: August 1 is Swiss National day, and we decorate our houses with flags, lights, etc. The store used to belong to the only friend I had in Zuoz before moving here, Leonora - but she died a few years ago rather unexpectedly, from cancer. Her daughter-in-law, Lucrezia, now runs the store, and I took the opportunity to ask how her father-in-law was doing. She looked at me with shock in her eyes: her father-in-law had died just one month ago! I missed it because it happened while I was in New York! However, Lucrezia told me that Ursulina, Leonora's daughter was here, staffing the stand in the street. The last time I saw Ursulina was in the early 70s, when she was a teenager. I thought she wouldn't even know who I am. However, she had already recognized me as I had been walking by... and we fell into each other's arms as if we had been the best of friends. She looks just like her mother, and she has the same warmth and kindness. I don't understand what created the strong link between the two families, despite the distance and the years. Was it the tragedies that hit both families? The young son killed in a car accident in his late teens? My mother's premature death? Ursulina's husband died of a heart attack at only 49 and she is widowed, without children. She apologized for not having written to my father about the passing of her father just one month ago... and was utterly shocked when I told her that my father had passed away as well. We ended our conversation promising to stay in touch and I have no doubt that we will.

Pictures:

1. Hiking between Il Fuorn and Scuol (National Park area)
2. Claire and Colin. The Inn is extremely low because it's too cold for the glaciers and remaining snow fields to melt.
3. Zuoz street fair. Silvia, neighbor and member of the Ladies' gym makes the best waffles.

By the way, my June pictures are now posted on Picasa: hiking in the rain, wildflowers and New York City. (http://picasaweb.google.com/irenevlach/June2010#)

Still squeezing

2010-07-22T06:56:00.001-07:00

Thanks to a totally innocent typo (in the email notification) I had the most extraordinary response from my readers. Thus two points are proven: first that the recipients of the email at least have a glance at the title, and second that same recipients have a naughty mind. Now of course my challenge is to find similarly enticing titles for my postings to make sure I keep my readership!

Is it because of my two visits to a counselor, or has enough time gone by for me to finally be able to move forward? Nothing is happening on the outside (yet), but I am getting restless. Not that I am bored or lonely, but it is starting to feel like there ought to be more to life than hiking. I am ready to work, to work hard, to contribute, to learn.

Last Saturday my friends Anne-Marie and Yvan arrived from Neuchatel. They have rented their own apartment - just across the parking lot from my building. So I am rediscovering the easy socializing with old friends. They are not my guests, but we already have gone on two hikes together and shared some meals. As I was hoping, their company allows me to go on new hikes, and hikes that I would not be comfortable doing on my own. On Sunday we went to Val Champagna. I had been pouring over the map repeatedly, wondering whether I should attempt it on my own. It's not very long, the trailhead is at the arrival of a cable-car, meaning that there would be lots of people. In the end though, I decided to wait for company.

It was an interesting day. The trail was indeed quite good, as I had guessed. We saw a herd of ibex (bouquetin, Steinbock) looking down on us from nearby rocks. To our surprise, after the initial hour we were the only party on the trail. And all of a sudden, on a section where the trail traverses the slope, for no apparent reason, Anne-Marie, who is an experienced hiker, fell and tumbled down the slope. I'll spare you the details, suffice to say that she is fine. However, it could have been extremely serious - she was very lucky. Nevertheless, we all were quite scared and shook up. For me it was the confirmation that indeed, I had not been overly cautious: a tumble like this can happen to anybody, any time, any place. And I would not want something like this to happen while alone in a remote area. Lesson learned.

Anne-Marie and Yvan also took me on a gorgeous hike to an area that was unknown to me, on the other side of the Julier Pass. It was fun to be shown a new area, while usually I am the guide. As fun as the hiking was, the most exciting aspect of the week was my inner journey, the feeling that I am now having some options and that I will be able to move forward - somehow. It all is intimidating, even scary, but I have now learned that this is how one grows as a person. I did not choose this path, but I am trying to look at it as an adventure. It still is Lemonade, and with enough sugar it's actually quite good.

Claire and Colin are arriving on Sunday night - I can't wait!

Ice cream and pastries

2010-07-15T08:15:00.000-07:00

It feels like a treat: I am spending an entire week alone in Zuoz, catching up on laundry, email, quiet time. The weather is absolutely gorgeous, one day nicer than the next, and hotter than I remember it ever was. When I go for a hike I make a point of leaving early, to be on top before it gets too hot, and to be back home before the thunderstorms strike. So far, when they do come, they come quite late and up till now I have avoided them all. I am becoming very daring - for today's hike I wore shorts (instead of the zipper-leg pants) and didn't even pack a sweater! The other night, at 11pm, I was sitting outside on my balcony, wearing just a t-shirt and shorts - definitely a first! Also unthinkable 30-40 years ago: I am considering going to the "beach", i.e. pack a towel and a good book and take a swim in one of the local lakes. They actually are now warm enough even for someone as wimpy as me! Meanwhile the glaciers and the permafrost are melting, and a little rain is enough to trigger major landslides. Two passes were affected last week, the Albula, and more importantly, the Bernina, which is the major thoroughfare to Italy. Both the road and the train tracks were blocked for a while.

After a long dry spell, I have renewed hopes for a job. On Monday I interviewed in an upscale bakery/pastry shop/tea room in St. Moritz. The pay is lousy, but I am getting restless, I am ready to do something and learn something. Besides, any income is better than no income. The contract would be for the season, i.e. till the end of April, so there's no long-term commitment - which is good. I am currently also working on an application for IUCN (International Union for the Conservation of Nature). They are based in Gland, near Geneva and are looking for an administrative assistant for their global marine program. I just about have the perfect profile and I am working really hard on this application, but deep down I fear that I don't stand a chance because of my age. And then yesterday, the guy from whom I was buying an ice cream cone in Zernez, offered me on the spot a full time job - selling ice cream! I told him I'd think about it until Monday. He is desperate because the summer season already is in full swing. If I do it, it would be just part time... I am hesitating... a gut feeling, the whole setting was not very professional... and I don't want to stumble into a bad situation.

So now the snow has melted even at high elevation, save for a small patch here or there. This is the time to get up into the high country - and yet I hesitate. Most of you know that I have a bad knee, which I twisted in my office a couple of years ago, to the point that I couldn't walk for a few days. I am hiking with two braces and a stick, but I do feel vulnerable. I always carry my cell phone, but I am sure coverage is spotty in the remote valleys. Therefore I have decided to play it safe, and my hikes are limited either to areas where I know there'll be many people, or to trails that I know to be relatively good. This decision limits my options considerably, and so I am looking forward to the next visit: this Saturday Anne-Marie and Yvan are arriving from the Neuchatel area. They have rented their own place but Anne-Marie and I plan to do a few good hikes together while Yvan goes on bicycle rides. Then Claire and Colin arrive, then my sisters... then... more friends until the middle of September. So from now on I will have lots of company for the exciting hikes and to explore new trails.

Below are a few pictures of my recent hikes. I also took a couple of bike rides. Biking is much more of a challenge than hiking or skiing. I trust my legs (even with the bad knee) infinitely more than tires. Yesterday I finally passed the test of wrestling the bike onto the train. They have a great set-up, but cyclists still have to carry their bikes up 3 steps to enter the special bike coach...

Lej da Statz, near St. Moritz. This is "the beach".

Es-cha hut and Piz Kesch. I spent many nights in this hut with my father and my sisters on the eves of climbing Piz Kesch.

Piz Uter, which I can also see from my living room window. The first time I climbed it (in one afternoon) I was about 14. Dad coaxed me up to the pass, and then to the top!

Chaste Peninsula, in Lake Sils. Looking towards Maloja.

Arosa

2010-07-08T05:47:00.000-07:00

I am almost embarrassed to admit it: I am not doing anything, yet I hardly find time to sit down at the computer and write a new entry for this blog. Of course I am also way behind in my email correspondence and I apologize to all of you who are waiting for a long overdue response from me. I am now squeezing in a little writing time between cleaning and cooking - hoping that my friends won't show up too early. Indeed, I am expecting two friends from Neuchatel, Eliane, whom I met in 6th grade, and her husband Alain. They actually got married in Portland, with Martin and I as witnesses, and our children and their (step)-children as guests. I remember a delicious dinner at Timberline Lodge after a walk in the lupine-covered meadows.

Quick recap of the last few days - it actually feels like I haven't written in weeks, because so much has happened. The activity, in some way was good for me, because all of a sudden, I feel in a different place, more at peace with my situation. I have a draft plan for the next few months of my life, but can't write about it here - first need to vet it with my sisters and my children. For one, I am reconciling myself with the fact that I need this time-out and that it's not something I can rush. I wanted to put the apartment up for sale in the late spring - and just couldn't get myself to do it. Perhaps there's a reason to it all.

My trip back from New York went well - a mere 6.5 hours flight - barely time to sleep! I got home early enough on Wednesday afternoon to unpack and do laundry, which freed the next day to repack! Indeed, on Friday I was back on the train, this time first to Chur, the capital of Graubuenden (the "state"). The train ride from here to there is a UNESCO World Heritage site - it is such a masterpiece of engineering. Eric and I actually were sledding along a section of that line in January. 360 degree tunnels alternate with vertiginous viaducts, with tracks clinging to steep hillsides - it's a lot of fun. In Chur I met Brigitte, my sister, and together we hopped on an equally fun train, to head up the valley to Arosa. This one goes so slowly that it's ok to have the windows wide open and to take it all in, standing with the head out the window.

Arosa is at the very back of a valley - both the train line and the road end there. This makes for a very quiet town, all the more so, since unlike here in Zuoz, the river is too far away to be heard from our hotel room. The only thing that kept us up all night was the herd of sheep grazing right under our window, wearing the proverbial bells. I didn't know that sheep are nocturnal! Arosa is at 1,750 meters (5,900 feet) - even higher than Zuoz, basically at the tree line. This means that hikers get above the tree line with little effort. It's a stark, dramatic, very alpine landscape and I am sure it is in part responsible for my preference for wide open landscapes like deserts and areas above the tree line. Indeed, Arosa is the place where I developed my love for mountains. At the age of 10 I spend my first night in a hut with my father, and with him I climbed my first 3,000 meter peak, the Arosa Rothorn. We vacationed here as a family from 1959 to 1963. I had never been back and I had been nagging my sisters to come with me for a trip back into our past for many years.

The trip was total success. First the weather was perfect (yes, it finally is summer here too!). Time with either of my sisters is always so easy, uncomplicated. There's not much to discuss - we mostly agree on everything, and we still can have good laughs, until our abs hurt. I managed to book a very cozy room in the very hotel in which we stayed in 1959. The following years we rented an apartment in a chalet. While then the chalet was at the edge of town, now it is hidden amid many other chalets. That was one of the few disappointments, as the chalet looked somewhat unkempt and forlorn.

Brigitte, of course, is a strong hiker and we did two great hikes. It was interesting to discover the area with adult eyes and see the many hikes we never did as kids because they were too challenging. Everything is very steep in Arosa, and while the area is stunning, the town is nothing special, with houses of various eclectic styles strung out along the road on the slope. There is no town square and unlike Zuoz with its charming core, Arosa lacks a soul. The flowers were at their peak - whole slopes had a pink hue from the blooming rhododendrons (here they are small bushes, the size of sage brush). In addition to the fun, the beauty and the hiking, there also, of course, was a painful trip down memory lane. We felt ghosts all around us - our parents, of course, but also friends of my parents who would come and spend 2-3 days with us over the course of the month we spent there each year. We found the very rock on which we had so many family picnics, strolled along the forest trail where the squirrels come and eat out of our hands, visited the spot near the river where we had roasted many sausages, even whole chicken. To my delight, while of course the town has increased in size, the areas still looks about the same with the places that mean the most to us still left untouched.

On the way back from Arosa I made a 2-day detour through St. Gallen to visit my aunt, give her a hand with this and that and cook a good meal for her and her friend. She is doing much better than in the winter and has a new sparkle in her eyes.

Last night was the end of the year social evening with the ladies of the exercising class. We were some 20 of us, playing boccie and sharing a superb meal. My strategy of joining this upbeat, outgoing and friendly group worked. We didn't do much as far as working out, but I got to know a terrific group of fun local women. Priceless.

Pictures:
1: One of the many impressive spans of the Rhaetian Railway
2: Hotel Sonnenhalde, Arosa
3: The iconic chapel of Innerarosa
4: Welschtobel Valley
5. Aelplisee - my favorite mountain lake.

New York

2010-06-28T13:20:00.000-07:00

It's hard to imagine a more striking contrast than between Zuoz and New York! Within 3 days I went from snow to the hot and humid NY summer, from long daily walks in nature to spending as much time as possible in air conditioned buildings. The hum of the unit in Eric's room has replaced the roaring of the river. We keep the shades closed at all times either for protection against the sun, or for privacy. I believe the moon was full over the weekend - but here I feel so cut off from the natural world that it never occurred to me to look up into the night sky.

I was wondering whether being back in the US would stir any patriotic feelings and make me want to return. It hasn't happened. The decision of the Supreme Court on the Chicago ban on handguns is precisely what scares me about this country. Obviously New York cannot be compared to Portland and I am sure I would feel very differently if I had gone all the way home. But here I am, with my eternal Swiss accent, and people want to know where I come from. How difficult a question can it be? Very much so for me, and I have developed various answers, depending on who's asking. I am feeling so out of place here, yet, a lot is very familiar, because after all I have lived in this country for 25 years, and of course, I have visited here many times. Sometimes I forget that tomorrow I'll fly back to Switzerland, rather than to Oregon. It feels like it's time to go home, and back to work at the foundation, and then reality sets in. I realize that it was great to get a break from the Lemonade Project and for just a few days go back to what used to be normal life.

Indeed, this trip to New York was no different from the others, its purpose being to see Eric perform. I once more became the chief groupie of the Lydia Johnson Dance company. I enjoyed it thoroughly, despite the fact that it was a very challenging performance: Kerry, Eric's roommate and one of the company's lead dancers, injured her back a couple weeks ago. She was just about recovered and did well at the dress rehearsal - but reinjured herself during the first performance. The show had to go on without her and the next day the company reworked the program during an emergency rehearsal. They are underfunded and cannot afford understudies, and various dancers had to learn Kerry's parts in just a few hours. It was very interesting to observe how they salvaged the show and picked up their new roles with much professionalism. In a wonderful pep talk, the choreographer and director of the company, Lydia Johnson, gave them permission to dance with joy despite the very painful and stressful situation and they pulled it off, dancing their hearts out.

Eric's girlfriend, Pam, actually lives near the theater where the rehearsals and performances were taking place - so he stayed at her place for the duration of the show, letting me use his room. Being on my own was an opportunity to develop new relationships - with the city itself, and especially with Kerry, since I became the one who was going back and forth from her to her dance mates. Everybody was publicly very courageous but my status as resident mom allowed me to witness the pain, the sadness, the shock. The company feels like a family, the dancers are all very supportive of each other and for me it was a privilege to be treated like a member of the family for a few days.

On the lighter side... Eric and I managed to see each other one-on-one every day despite the complicated logistics - which was very fun for me. One day we walked down Broadway, starting at now car free Times Square, taking in the fun exhibit, Catwalk on the Sidewalk. Yesterday we tried to go to Governor's Island. I was looking forward to the freshness of the sea breeze, the quiet away from cars - and to see something new. Unfortunately the line to the ferry discouraged us. We estimated a wait of something like at least one hour... and just getting to the end of the line in the stifling heat discouraged us. We bailed and went home to watch TV in the air-conditioned room! At sunset we climbed to the rooftop for happy hour with an unending view of buildings!

I am flying back tomorrow night. I trust the flight back will be as easy as the trip over, which went very smoothly except that Eric and I missed each other at JFK and I had to find my way home on public transportation. Fortunately Eric had sent me detailed instructions and except for the tiredness and the heat, it was easy.

Pictures:

1. Times Square
2. Eric Vlach and Jessica Sand (photo by Kokyat, from Oberon's Grove)
3. Happy hour on the roof

Summer Solstice

2010-06-21T10:13:00.000-07:00

Today is the longest day of the year. Tomorrow the days are starting to get shorter. I always feel cheated when the season turns and we are still waiting for the first nice day, for a sign that summer is just around the corner. I actually saw a couple of patches of blue sky in the late afternoon (the Canadians call them sucker holes). It's been overcast and rainy for the last week (Oregon style!) and on Sunday morning there was fresh snow all the way down to the valley bottom. A lot of it has melted in the meantime, but the snowline definitely has remained below the tree line, and once again, high elevation hikes are out of the question. The river is once more running clear and very low - it's again too cold for the glaciers to melt!

The snow hardly was a surprise - it definitely was in the forecast. And it was forecast for the one weekend on which I was supposed to go on a 2-day hike to the Kesch Hut. It's in a remote area, too far and in too rugged country for me to go by myself. So when I got the invitation from the municipality of Zuoz I jumped on it. All inhabitants were invited to what seems to be a yearly hike to go check on the far off cairns marking the municipality's boundaries. Indeed, Switzerland has neither public lands, nor Crown Lands (like in Canada): all the "empty" land belongs to some municipality, and so it is that the town of Zernez, just 3 train stops from Zuoz, is the largest in Switzerland. The hike was 7 hours each day - challenging. I checked in with the leader who reassured me that I would be ok and welcome... and I started training. However, towards the end of last week it became obvious that it was going to be a miserable affair. I called the leader, embarrassed about even entertaining thoughts of bailing after having signed up. He was very kind and encouraged me to not make up my mind until the morning of the departure. As the forecast became only worse, on Friday morning I made the definite decision not to go. On Saturday morning I walked up to the meeting point in town to let them know I was not going. I was greeted by a group of some 12 men... all men, all very sturdy-looking... The sight of this group confirmed that I had made the right decision - and they probably were relieved not having to deal with me. The main reason for my cancellation was less the expected hardship of the adventure than the knowledge that the group would surely have had to wait for me while I was having my multiple snacks. It's one thing to make people wait when the weather is good - another when it's miserable and they are getting cold and want to get going. Saturday actually turned out to be not too bad a day, and I started regretting my decision. And then, on Sunday morning I woke up and saw this:

That was the end of my regrets!

Hannah, my Portland yoga friend, was here all last week, and she was the perfect guest. Unfortunately, the weather was poor. After the initial great hike on Monday, we limited ourselves to afternoon walks on Tuesday and Wednesday (with sprinkles on and off). When we got up on Thursday we were surprised to see blue sky, and decided that it was now or never to go to the National Park. A villager had told me that it was a good time to see wildlife with their young. A bus now runs from Zuoz to the nearest gateway parking lot to the park - a welcome ride that shaves a solid hour of walking on a paved road. After 2 hours of hiking we reached a meadow from which we saw dozens of animals - it felt like on a safari: ibex, chamois, elk, marmots... all over the place. The rain had the decency to wait until we were done admiring and had started our lunch. It never let up again and we reached the parking lot soaked. Meekly I asked two gentlemen we had met earlier on the trail whether they would give us a ride to the main road, as it was going to be another 90 minutes before the next bus... We lucked out - they took us all the way home!

Given the relatively little hiking, Hannah and I had lots of time for other entertainment. Hannah is an excellent cook and we treated ourselves to many good meals. I taught her Lew's game of dice which provided excitement in the evenings. We had to take an emergency trip to Samedan (4 towns up the valley) because both my watches' batteries ran out during the week - and I cannot catch a plane without a working watch! Yes, Zuoz doesn't have a store that sells either watch batteries or... nail polish! Today I decided that since I will be wearing sandals in New York it's time to beautify my toes... but since I was unwilling to take the train up to Samedan just for that, I'll land tomorrow in New York with unadorned tootsies.

Pictures:

1. Sunday morning, from my house
2. Val Trupchun, National Park (photo by Hannah)
3. Making the best of bad weather

Hiking buddies

2010-06-14T12:20:00.000-07:00

Hannah from my Portland yoga class arrived yesterday. I was very much looking forward to her visit, looking forward to have a hiking buddy for a few days. I had planned out the whole week, one good hike after another, an interesting variety of hikes, but forgot to take the weather into account. It is very unstable, has been like this for the whole last week, showers every day - it takes a certain amount of courage to take off. I never know if the rain will last 5 minutes or the rest of the day, and given the altitude, as soon as the sun goes away, the temperature drops substantially. All this to say, that Hannah and I will have to play it one day at the time, because it's just impossible to predict how tomorrow - or the next hour - will be like.
Today's hike had a great effort vs reward ratio - i.e. great rewards for little effort. A couple of times we had to take shelter to wait out a shower, but then the sun would come back out and the air was so clear, the light so beautiful, pure, translucent, clear... I remembered that the light in the Engadin indeed has the reputation for being... special, unique, and therefore so much appreciated by artists. Although we are now in high (or medium?) season, we were pretty much alone on the trail. The iffy weather probably had a lot to do with it. We hiked up to the high country through the woods peppered with wildflowers, had great views down to the Sils Lake and the mountains and waterfalls across the valley. The first rhododendrons are opening up (much smaller than the Oregon rhodies). Several kinds of orchids and wild clematis are now in bloom.

I had done this hike for the first time just last Thursday - with the... seniors! Opportunities for group hikes are scant. There's the Club Alpin Suisse, like the Mazamas on steroids (that's for my Oregon friends) - meaning all their outings are too extreme for me. And there's Pro Senectute (latin for "for the old") - which is the group I went with. The meeting point was in Sils Maria, at the stop of the postal bus. As I got off the bus, some 15 women came towards me, hands stretched out to greet and welcome me. It was overwhelming. Yes, we walked relatively slowly, no, the hike wasn't very long, but it was a hike I had never done before, and the ladies ( and 2 men) were kind, open, upbeat, energetic, interesting. They know every nook and cranny of the valley, the names of the flowers and where the best beaches are (no kidding!) - I had a great day with them. Best of all, at the end we all went for coffee together, then I rode back on the bus with a couple of them, and the next day I met one in Zuoz and we had a great chat. On the same day as the senior hike I went on an evening hike with the ladies from the evening gym club. Obviously the hikes are more popular than floor exercises in the gym, because we were a whole crowd, walking in the evening light among fields full of flowers to the next town where we had dinner, and then back to the cars with the last light before dark.

Other odds and ends of the week:
- the snow is melting very rapidly and the Inn is flooding here and there. The creeks are scary torrents - I am picking my hikes very carefully, making sure there are bridges.
- I got a hair cut - the worst ever in my life, and that's how I'll have to go to NY to Eric's performance!
- I voted. I still haven't figured out the 8 parties, nor who stands for what and it took me over an hour to fill out the 7 ballots! There are some advantages to only 2 parties and only 2 election days a year. This already was my 2nd election since my arrival.

Looking ahead: Hannah is here for the whole week. On Saturday I am off to a major challenge: hike to a hut with some other folks from Zuoz, all strangers, to check on the town's far off boundaries. Don't ask me - I don't know anything more - check my blog next week!

Pictures:
1. Clouds trailing mid-mountain in Zuoz
2. Sils Lake from Val Fedoz hike
3. Yet to be identified orchid
4. Fields full of flowers, near Zuoz
5. Wild clematis

(Sorry for the misalignment!)

New Season

2010-06-07T10:38:00.000-07:00

I don't want to rub it in for my Oregon readers, but here the weather has finally come around, very suddenly, at the end of last week. Tuesday and Wednesday I went to St. Gallen (the lowlands) to visit my aunt, and it still was very cold. During the whole train ride (4 trains, 4 hours) I never took off my parka, despite wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and a sweater underneath! What a change! The snowline is now above the tree line, opening a world of new hiking options. The forest is green, the fields are filling up with wildflowers and the river has become a monster: full of silt and mud form the rapid snow and glacier melt, gushing by my window, an inch from flooding. As for me, I feel reborn, finding once again the level of energy I had in the winter. Light, warmth, open windows, swallows flitting back and forth, screeching.. Today I even felt inspired to wash the windows.

I am now alternating walks with bike rides. The walks are taking me ever higher, and I hope I am not doing anything stupid by striking out on my own. I am very careful, always carrying a hiking stick because there still are snow fields here and there in the shadowy woods and some of the creek crossings are hairy because of the high water levels. Some tourists have come back, but it definitely still is low season and I seldom meet anybody on the trails. More accurately, I seldom meet humans. The other day I was having a snack in the most delightful meadow, high up on the slope... and suddenly a doe came out of the woods and strolled along the lower edge of the clearing, unaware that I was there, or pretending not to see me. Without the distraction of conversation with a hiking buddy, I see so much more. Marmots also are common encounters. At some places they are very skittish, elsewhere they can't be bothered running away from me.

So far I have done only 2 bike rides. My options are somewhat limited. It's either up the valley, or down the valley! There are many miles of trails, leading way up into the alpine meadows, but there is no way I'll ever ride my bike on them. I am not skilled enough, and while riding is exhilarating, it does not allow for observing flowers, watching birds, noticing the doe. Right now my biggest challenge is not having padded biking shorts and after an hour in the saddle the riding is less than enjoyable. Does one grow calluses, or develop special muscles that make one more resistant over the long term?

The wildflowers are now the highlights of my hikes. As one gains elevation one goes through all the stages of spring, ranging from crocuses where the snow just melted, to new species in the lower fields. Identifying them is an on-going challenge. Fortunately I have two friends who are passionate about wildflowers, and very good at identifying them. When I have exhausted all my field guides and I am still stumped, I send pictures of the mystery flowers to either one of them, and pronto get the name. One of these friends is my high-school German teacher whose true passion is flowers. He has translated THE wildflower guide of Switzerland, Flora Helvetica, from German to French, and just last week he sent it to me - at the amazing whole sale price. It's a treasure, a priceless resource, the Swiss botanist's bible.

As to the highlight of the past week: the visit of my friend Paul from Brussels. He heard me talk about Zuoz since 1978 and wanted to see it. After I picked him up at the train station, took him home and showed him the apartment, he expressed concern about my well being: he though I must be going crazy, all alone in this remote village, without a movie theater, a video rental store, or many of the other amenities found in the city. However, after the hike to the mouth of the glacier (a very different sight now that the snow is gone) and another to a high meadow peppered with wildflowers and affording a stunning view down to the lakes in the St. Moritz area, after having slowed down from his jet set lifestyle and having learned to appreciate the view from the window and the roaring of the river beneath, at the end of the visit he declared that he now understood why this place means so much to me. As he is about to move from Brussels to Switzerland with mixed emotions (it's too quiet, the stores are closed when you need them to be open, etc.) I hope that the weekend in the Engadin allowed him to discover some of the advantages and privileges of living in Switzerland.

Pictures:
1. Hiking to Marmore, above Sils. View down to the Lakes of Silvaplana and St. Moritz, as well as the towns of Silvaplana and St. Moritz.
2. Marmot standing guard
3. Poppies in the river bed
4. Sunday morning sightseeing in Zuoz.

Val Bregaglia

2010-05-31T07:46:00.000-07:00

Forget what I wrote last week. I had to pull my turtle necks back out of the drawer. It seems that our spring matches the Oregon one - horrible. According to the paper it's the worst since the early 80s. Today it didn't rain. It's hardly good news though, because instead it's been snowing most of the day! All of last week it was too rainy, too windy, too cold for my taste to ride the bike I brought back from Lausanne now almost a month ago. Finally, on Thursday I carried it up from the basement, put on the sticker (yes, bikes are licensed) and tried to inflate the tires... I only have a small hand pump - and failed miserably. Fortunately Pierre was coming up for the weekend, and he rescued me, or the bike, or my ability to ride the bike! So yesterday, after he left and after the rain finally stopped I went on an inaugural ride. I only went for 15 minutes, because it started to rain - hard. I took shelter for a while, but it was obvious that it was not going to stop any time soon, and I rode home under the driving rain. Today I went for a walk - no interest in testing the bike amid flurries!

So the weather is responsible for a few very low key days. I didn't mind, since I had been on the go quite a bit over the last few weeks, and since I was expecting Pierre for the weekend. We were planning on doing a good hike on Saturday. The unstable weather and the low snow line restricted our choices. Pierre, following his mountaineering nose, picked a great one. The only drawback was some 2 hours travel time each way, but then many hikes out of Portland are that far. Also, the road to the trail head was very scenic. We went to the Val Bregaglia, one of those valleys, like the Val Mustair, that extends south of the Alps and has better connections to Italy than to the rest of Switzerland. We first took the train to St. Moritz. There we boarded a bus that took us by the 3 lakes of the the Oberengadin, St. Moritz, Silvaplana and Sils. At the far end of Lake Sils is the Maloja Pass, from which the road drops by some 10-12 switchbacks steeply into the Val Bregaglia.

Our hike was all below the tree-line, which means also below the snow line. I was not eager to repeat the experience of the previous week. There was some sun, a few drops of rain, a partial view of the mountains across the valley, several impressive water falls, and, above all, fields and fields of wildflowers. We hiked from Vicosoprano to Soglio, along a panoramic trail at the mid-mountain level. Soglio is extremely picturesque and sits on a hump overlooking the valley. The houses are very different from the Engadin, with the roofs made with slabs of granite.

Meanwhile the kids are back in school after a 3 week break. The valley and the town have been very quiet. Most businesses had their yearly closure and neither the tourists nor the locals were in town. Even the main road hardly had any traffic. With the kids back in school things are slowly becoming more lively. Still, tomorrow I am leaving again, just for a couple of days, to travel to St. Gallen to visit my aunt. I'll cook a couple of meals and go shopping for new bedding. At 92 she decided she wanted to sleep in the "nordic style", which is how most folks sleep now in Switzerland: no upper sheet, no blanket, just a huge down comforter!

The pictures:

1. Vicosoprano
2. Some woman by some waterfall between Vicosoprano and Soglio
3. Above Soglio

In case you missed it: my April pictures are now posted on Picasa: http://picasaweb.google.com/irenevlach/April2010#

Vercorin

2010-05-25T07:36:00.000-07:00

The timing of my traveling period was perfect: the unpleasant transition between winter and spring is over. I am sitting by the open window, finally wearing a t-shirt and no socks. I had forgotten how good wind and sun feel on the skin.

On Friday morning I was awaken early by the sun peeking into my room through the east window. The calling, screeching, screaming swallows made sure I was not going to go back to sleep. Sipping my orange juice by the big living room window I marveled at their flashing white bellies, lit up by the still low sun in a perfectly blue sky. It was going to be another exciting day, as I would travel around Switzerland to spend the weekend in the Alps of south western Switzerland, in the Valais, roughly between the Matterhorn and Mont Blanc. My friends Christiane and Gilbert invited me to spend the weekend with them in Vercorin, a village suspended between the Rhone Valley and the sky, on a knob at the entrance of one of the valleys leading south, deep into the mountains at the border between Switzerland and Italy.

Train #1: Zuoz - Sagliains
Train #2: Sagliains - Landquart
Train #3: Landquart - Zurich
Train #4: Zurich - Bern
Train #5: Bern - Visp
Train # 6: Visp - Sierre
.. and the most colorful part of the trip: bus from Sierre to Vercorin, 40 minutes of switchbacks, sections of the road carved into the cliff, most of the time so narrow that the cars coming down had to stop or even back-up to let the postal bus through.

I arrived late afternoon but my friends were not going to get in until late. So, following Christiane's directions, I found my way to their place, walking some 20 minutes uphill, first through the picturesque village, then through the fields. Vercorin is at a lower elevation than Zuoz and spring was clearly further along. The wind was singing in the pine trees and crickets were calling out the first day of summer weather. Since I was ahead of the weekend crowd, the village was very quiet and not one car passed me on the road.

I met Christiane and Gilbert in the mid-70s in Geneva. Christiane and I already shared many memories, including mountaineering, a skiing vacation in Andermatt, and 3 weeks in Greece in 1975. In the 80s they moved to the Neuchatel area, which allowed me to easily stay in touch. Christiane teaches biology at my former high-school, Gilbert was my Dad's doc when he was hospitalized in 2002. Despite the proximity, our visits were always too short, a couple of hours or an evening stolen away from Dad, with the corresponding feelings of guilt. Now all the parents have passed away, the children are on their own, and therefore we again have time to share, time not only to tell each other about our respective lives, but also to discover how we have changed, or not, over the last 35 years. It was such a delight to find out that we still approach a day, and life in general, in much the same way. Gilbert played Faure's Requiem, Christiane with much patience pointed out the many architectural details of the chalets and church of Vercorin. We relaxed, hiked, and of course, ate well and sampled the many excellent local wines.

As I mentioned above, we also built new common memories, and the one that will stand out is Saturday's hike. The start was deceptively easy and relaxed. The plan was to make it to high elevation (Tignousa, above St. Luc) with a cable car. Except that it goes only once an hour and we just missed the noon one. So we walked back into the center of St. Luc, for "l'apero", i.e. a drink (and I don't mean water) before catching the 1pm cable car. The arrival was a high meadow. We were greeted by a marmot and happy wildflowers peppering the slope. The temperature was perfect - it was going to be a gorgeous hike to Chandolin, about one hour. How come we didn't notice that we were sliding into an unpleasant situation? It happened gradually, and by the time we realized we were in trouble we already couldn't make up our minds on whether we should back-track or forge ahead. This is how our hike to Chandolin took 2 hours, of which 90 minutes of traipsing through the snow, mostly up to the tops of our thighs, sometimes to our waists. This, of course, on a slope, often quite steep. The redeeming factors were the knowledge that we had many hours before nightfall, the weather was stable and therefore despite wet and cold feet and legs, hypothermia was not going to be an issue, and, or course, we had plenty of food. The modus operandi was extreme caution because a twisted ankle or knee would have been disastrous. Thank God, we all had our hiking sticks, we all were experienced hikers and we never lost sight of the trail because, very once in a while, between 2 snow fields, we could see a few feet of trail. My bad knee behaved itself and despite my fears, was none the worse the next day. However, the muscles of my good leg, which did the brunt of the work in the snow, hurt so much that on Sunday walking was really painful - which didn't prevent us from going on another hike, but at a cautious lower elevation.

So, here I am, staring out my big window, at the mountain across the valley, trying to gauge how low the snow still is in the woods. Perhaps it's time to get my bike out, and stick to the valley bottom biking trails for a few days. I am not eager to do more stomping around in the snow, although I am afraid I'll run into more snow than hoped for well into the summer.

I am now home for a month. The good weather will also bring back friends to Zuoz. By the way, thank you, Christiane and Gilbert for an absolutely delightful time in your gracious and fun company, in your gorgeous mountains. And thank you, Brigitte, for a quiet evening in Villars on my way back to Zuoz. It was so much more pleasant to travel back this morning in the empty and quiet trains rather than last night's crowds.

Pictures:
1. Anemone printaniere (Pulsatilla vernalis)
2. Village of Grimentz
3. The mountain in the center is the Matterhorn

Finding roots

2010-05-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

I returned from Austria this afternoon. It's nice to be back home, although I probably won't be here for very long. The weather has been the worst ever since I left, either extremely cold, or rainy, or both. I am just returning from an evening walk to get some exercise after the many hours on the train. There were flurries, and understandably, the larches still haven't greened up. Fortunately I had been smart enough to pack a wool hat for my trip - because I wore it a lot!

I left last Tuesday, right after lunch to go to Landeck, in the Tirol, where Roswitha, my cousin's wife, picked me up. It's exactly 100 km from Zuoz to Landeck. It took me 3 1/2 hours. The first hour was with the little red train, to the end of the line - no big deal, except that the bathroom was closed. I had planned on using it since the rest of the journey was going to be by bus, and I knew those buses don't have bathrooms. In case you are not familiar with the regional geography: the river Inn, which flows by my house, leads all the way to Landeck, meaning that you can get from here to there following the valley. This is how it happened on previous trips. This time, though, at the Austrian border, the bus, with me as the only passenger, climbed up the mountain on the south side of the valley, at least 10 switchbacks, and way up there, joined with the road of the Reschenpass, which leads from Landeck to Italy. At the crossroads is a village, Nauders. I think in the winter it's a ski area, but on that day it felt as abandoned as Zuoz. Up here I had to switch buses, as it's the turn around point of the Swiss bus. The driver was kind enough to show me the bus stop for the Austrian bus. I had a 35 minute wait. The stop is on the outskirts of the town, between fields. No bench, no roof, no toilet, no restaurant, nothing but a sign by the side of the road. And a cold wind, and it started to rain. Gradually I pulled all my successive layers out of my suitcase. Finally the bus arrived. Except for two kids, about 3-4 years old, I again was the only passenger. They each had a huge lollipop and sugar all over their faces. The bus rolled into town itself, stopped, and the driver and the kids got off - to return all cleaned up. Now we could start our trip down to the valley in earnest. The same amount of switchbacks, and the kids doing acrobatics all over the bus, walking from the back to the front on the backs of the seats, half hanging from the ceiling. The dad (the driver) thought it was a lot of fun, enjoying the show from the rear view mirror.

Meanwhile I was petrified, scared that a kid was going to lose his balance in one of the switchbacks, or that the proud Dad was going to drive the bus off the edge because he was watching the kids instead of the road. All of a sudden we came to a stop in the middle of nowhere: road construction. A backhoe was in the middle of the road, and no worker in sight - we were going to be here for a while. Pretty quickly a line of semis formed behind us. And all those men got off their vehicles, including the young twins, to relieve themselves at the side of the road! To entertain themselves during the long wait the twins took turns at the steering wheel of the bus, playing with various switches, opening and closing the bus door, with both me and their Dad on the outside. The Dad reassured me that they were not strong enough to release the emergency break... Fortunately, once we got going, the trip was smooth to the end. I suspect that the twins fell asleep because it was very quiet. Since nobody got on, we made up for lost time and I arrived just about on schedule.

Roswitha drove me to Strengen, a small town some 15 minutes from Landeck, on the road of the Arlberg pass. This is where my paternal grand-father came from. Roswitha, her husband Guenther, their son Wolfgang, his wife Kitty and daughter Hanne, all live in the old family house. My own father took me there for the first time in the late 50s. We returned periodically, about every 10 years. I was welcomed back with the warmth and kindness so typical of our Austrian relatives. Each times it feels so right, so good. We get reacquainted, catch up, share more good times. As a gift I brought a book from my father's library and they appreciated very much to have a something tangible to remember him by. Many ghosts and memories crowd the house. All those from my father's generation have died, but the old family house, the town, the torrent, the covered bridge, the chapel in the woods, all remain mostly unchanged.

On Thursday I travel further east, to Salzburg. My paternal grand-mother is from Hallein, a small town to the south of Salzburg. There I was welcomed, again with much joy and warmth, by cousin Ingrid and her son Wolfgang. They were kind enough to organize a dinner with son-in-law Gusti and his partner Suzie. Salzburg is one of my favorite cities. I have been there several times, starting in 1964 with the whole family. Most of my visits were in the summer when the city is invaded by crowds of tourists and it was a pleasure to experience it during a less popular time - although there still were a good number of folks, as the marathon took place on Sunday and all the athletes were about town. Ingrid took me to the Celtic museum in Hallein, famous since before the Romans for its salt mine. My parents honeymooned in Hallein, and we visited the pastry shop where they used to hang out. Many ghosts and memories in Salzburg/Hallein as well. In 1972 I spent Easter there with my sister. Our uncle Pepi introduced us to two young men and we spent a night dancing to Sargent Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band album. The men still remember us, one of them now is Ingrid's doctor, and he sent his regards. Unfortunately he was out of town for the long weekend! Despite the excitement of being back in Salzburg, the most important aspect of the visit was to spend quality time with Ingrid and her son, to catch up, to rediscover each other - and we did! Last night, as I was packing, she gave me one of her authentic Austrian hats - something I will treasure forever!

So today was the return journey. I opted to not repeat the adventures of Tuesday and took the Transalpin train into Switzerland, a detour as far as miles go, but definitely more pleasant and no longer than the trek by bus via the mountain passes. Despite all my travels in various parts of the world, the Transalpin will always be more exciting than any airplane. Today was especially delightful, with very few people on the train, which made for a very quiet day. Nobody spoke beyond a few words of politeness, the young man across the aisle was working on sheet music. An hour or so after leaving Salzburg we were again following the Inn, which I can now hear under my window.

It was a quiet week in Zuoz

2010-05-10T07:28:00.000-07:00

This is the first afternoon I am spending entirely at home since my arrival. I am feeling somewhat guilty, because once in a while the sun makes it through the clouds, and I hate spending a perfectly good day indoors. But, I wanted to get some things done before setting out again tomorrow for a week of visiting relatives in Austria. Among others I had to study for tonight's rumauntsch class - this course's last one. Over the weekend I contacted a few fellow students to gauge their interest in asking the teacher to continue with private classes. No level II course will be offered before September, and we are a small committed group that would like to take advantage of the current momentum. Now the question is whether the teacher is interested. I also justify this afternoon's idleness with the fact that tonight I'll walk to class. It was transferred from Samedan (15 minutes from Zuoz by train) to S-chanf, the next town down the valley - an easy walk. Yesterday I spent most of the afternoon out in the cold, hoping to identify some new birds. Today, in the comfort of my home I could observe a couple of kestrels cruising back and forth in front of my window!

So this was a quiet week in Zuoz. I am always amazed how time flies even in idleness! It's an opportunity to absorb more of my surroundings and learn. The big event was the opening of the fishing season. The papers featured various articles about fish, the fisheries, eating fish, etc. It's another sad story: just about all waters have been impacted by hydroelectric projects and therefore it seems that most fish are either non-native, or surviving only through massive human interference: the adult fish are caught when ready to spawn, "milked", i.e. both the eggs and the sperm as pressed out of them, and released again. The fertilized eggs are then kept in a secure facility, and the young fish are raised in ponds until they are released into the rivers and lakes, ready to be caught by the avid fishermen. It's not exactly the industrialized fish hatchery as we have them in Oregon, but there's hardly anything natural about the fish's life cycles. Shockingly, the questions of wild vs man-hatched, of habitat and biodiversity have not been raised in any of my readings.

Hunting is also very popular in the region. The management of game is very sensible. A few years ago, the agency responsible for wildlife decided to ban supplemental winter feeding of big game (deer, elk, chamois). Instead most of the forest was closed to human access during winter. All the trails, both cross-country and hiking, that I have mentioned over the last few months, are primarily located in fields, or just at the edge of the forest. This closure allows the animals to roam freely, without any disturbances causing them to waste energy. That means no snowmobiles, no heli skiing, not even snowshoeing. Having spent the last few years of my life supporting efforts to close areas to snowmobiling and to limit heli skiing to protect wintering animals, this appears like a very sensible and progressive management decision.

I have been fairly open about my quandary, extend my stay here, or move back to Portland in the late fall, as per the initial plan. A few days ago I drew a table, with the pluses and minuses of both staying here and moving back to Portland. All it did, so far, is highlight how difficult the choice will be, as well as the fact that once again, there will not be a perfect choice. Living here is very much in synch with my values: a quiet and simple life, almost no stores, no need for a car, nature at my doorstep rather than a 90 minutes drive away. And yet, I do miss my garden, the farmers markets, fresh produce, my friends, and above all, the relative ease with which I can visit my kids. So today I paid a visit to the real estate agency for a reality check. I was hoping that once we sell the apartment in the fall, with my share of the proceeds I could buy another apartment for myself, smaller, less luxurious, without the front row view. The reality actually was quite a blow. Unless I find a well-paying job, there's no way I can afford another apartment!

The discovery about the forbidding price of apartments in Zuoz comes on the heels of a job interview - just last week I was interviewed for a job as English teacher for adults! They desperately need such teachers in the valley, and I am pretty sure they will offer me at least one evening class per week, starting in July. It's not paid very well, certainly not enough to afford another apartment, but it's a foot in the door, something to close the gaping hole in my resume, and one more networking opportunity.

Sunday's NY Times has an article on the Engadin (thank you Claire): http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/05/09/travel/09next.html?pagewanted=2&hpw

In case you missed it: my March pictures are now posted on Picasa: http://picasaweb.google.com/irenevlach/March2010#

Le Plat Pays

2010-05-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

I am back in front of my big window, looking at the mountains. The fields are greening with a white fuzz of wild crocuses. It looks like even the larches, the predominant trees of the forest across the valley, are about to leaf out (needle out?). The old snow has receded further up the slope but new snow has sprinkled the lower reaches. Considering how cold it was at the lower elevations over the last few days, I am not surprised. Did you notice how I am dressed on the picture?

Here I am, musing about the weather, fully aware that I am avoiding tackling the more difficult subjects. Many of my readers have been extremely generous with compliments about my writing - which now ups the ante for me. What were the salient events of the last few days? How can I describe them, and at the same time extract some meaning from them? I don't want this blog to read like a travel log. However, turning my not terribly interesting daily life into a story is a daunting challenge. Today I toyed with the idea of stopping the writing, but it feels like I would not only let my faithful readers down, but also myself. I decided that it's good for me, both for my soul and for my brain, to rise to the challenge, and therefore I'll make another attempt, with the help of a cup of tea.

Last week, returning from the Swiss lowlands I just spent 3 days at home before going on my next trip. Barely time to do laundry and repack before leaving for Brussels one more time. I got home earlier this afternoon and will be here for a week.

It was fun to travel to an unfamiliar part of the world. I visited Brussels on Friday, Amsterdam on Saturday, Brugges on Sunday - a city per day. Those of you who know me are aware that I usually prefer to travel more slowly. I would have liked to spend more time in Brussels, to get a good feel for the city. I actually had spent time in each of these cities in 1970, on my first trip abroad ever. In 1971 I spent a whole week in Amsterdam - my high school graduation trip with my school mates. In those days it felt like I was very far from home, while this time I was awed by how close everything is. It took me only 6 1/2 hours, door to door, from my friend Paul's place to my sister's in Lausanne! Amsterdam was only 2 hours by train from Brussels, Brugges even closer. Paris is just over an hour from Brussels.

I am not a shopper, but I was enchanted by the shops, especially the candy stores. Each one was a marvel of decorating, color schemes and delicacy. Belgium is known for its chocolate, but cookies are also popular. I saw a store selling all things made of or relating to honey. One for olives and olive products. There was the hardware store carrying exclusively items for house boats.

Because we were so much on the go, we took most of our meals in restaurants. This was a great excuse to sample some of the many local beer, the traditional frites et moules (French fries and mussels), and gauffres (waffles). Ordering risotto in Brussels, though, was a mistake.

Belgium of course, also is the home of Tintin, the famous comic character. I am sure my kids know in which book the chinese boy appears along with Tintin and Milou.

Amsterdam was a major disappointment. Filthy like no other city I have ever seen. On the flight home, I asked the Dutch man sitting next to me how such a rich and popular city could let garbage become a problem of this magnitude. I was reassured when he explained that this was exceptional: the day before had been the Queen's birthday, with much partying, and since the garbage men are on strike, all the waste was still around, much of it in the canals. Not a pretty sight.

Traveling within Europe felt both strange and familiar. At times I had a hard time figuring out where I was. It was fun to speak French despite having left Switzerland, except that Paul and I speak in English to each other. Paul and I met in Canada in the late 70s, and with all our banter about the old days, once in a while I would have to pinch myself to bring my awareness back to our present location, Brussels, Amsterdam, Brugges. One day while we were sipping coffee on a sidewalk cafe, a woman sitting close to us, hearing us speak English, asked me where I was from. How can it be so hard to answer such a simple question? I stuttered, half French, half English... Switzerland, hum, US. She made things even more complicated by asking where in Switzerland: Neuchatel, hum, Zuoz... At least I am not the only one with this predicament. It seemed that in the Brussels/Nethelands area, everybody speaks 3-4 languages, and most people I interacted with have lived in various places on earth. Starting with Paul. While I feel equally at home and attached to Portland, Zuoz and Neuchatel, he doesn't feel attached to any place. We had a conversation about where we'd want to live if we could live anywhere. My choices were between the above 3, Portland, Zuoz and Neuchatel. He picked cities where he has never lived before. Would it be easier for me to figure out the next step in my life if I were more free, if I didn't build such strong bonds with places? Can I change?

The point of going to Brussels, etc. was not for sightseeing, but to catch up with Paul - and catch up with did, every night to almost 1am! Several times I was so lost in our conversation that I would forget where we were. While I am a little frustrated because there was no time to visit these beautiful cities in depth, I definitely feel that we caught up with each other, got to know each other much better and discovered that we can have a grand time together.

Thank you, Paul, for being such a gracious and patient host. And thank you Brigitte for one more time letting me spend the night at your place. The bottle of wine from Dad's cellar and the accompanying conversation were the perfect end to another great trip.

On my way home

2010-04-24T13:57:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-15T23:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

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#

Guest from New York

2010-03-31T11:11:00.000-07:00

Pam and Eric are out for a dusk walk - either they need to digest their raclette (melted cheese on potatoes), or they need some alone time.

They arrived yesterday from New York. Pam, of course, is Eric's significant other, from Portland as well, living in NY, a tap dancer.

After spring weather, slush and mud, we are back into winter. Almost a foot of fresh snow last Friday, and again enough last night for a true winter wonderland for my visitors this morning. I coaxed them out of bed with fresh croissants, and I admit that I was impressed by how quickly they got going, given that they had been up a good part of the night watching movies and eating whatever they could find - jetlag will do that to you! So this morning it was once again perfectly blue sky, over perfectly white snow... I felt bad rushing them, but by now I know the weather patterns. We hustled to catch the 10:30 am train, to take the walk up to the mouth of the glacier. It paid off. It was sunny, warm, the view was awesome - and just as we got back to the train station, the clouds closed in and it started again to snow.

The picture is of Pam and Eric having lunch in the cave at the mouth of the glacier. With the sun beating down on us, it was warm enough to be in a t-shirt!

I am glad to have visitors this week. Last week was challenging: it was too slushy and muddy for either skiing or good walking. I still forced myself to go out every day, but it was not easy to find something to do - I had to strategize each day as to where the walking would be the least painful. Now, with guests, and winter weather it's much easier.

I did have a great day last week: snowshoeing in the national park. I signed up for a tour, but I ended up being the only participant, i.e. I had my own private guide. Although he usually wants a minimum of 2 participants, he wanted to go nevertheless because he wanted to test the snow. I had a great day, we went for some 5 hours, with fortunately a hut almost every hour to huddle in the wind shield and eat and drink. However, the test was negative: it had been quite warm the previous few days, and the snow was rotting, i.e., under a thin crust, it was disintegrating. Every few steps the crust would give and the guide would fall through, sinking in up to mid-thigh, despite the snowshoes. Since I was a bit lighter, I didn't fall through as often - thank God. Each time it scared the daylight out of me - you never know when the snow will give out under you. Then it was downright dangerous and I was worrying about twisting a knee or an ankle. Climbing back out was at a minimum very tiring, and sometimes very difficult. Once I was unable to make it on my own and the guide had to help me. At the end, he was even more tired than I was! Nevertheless, I had a great time - except for one other party we were alone and the landscape was dramatic, with clouds and breaks of sunshine.

On another note: Monday I submitted 2 job applications: one to be a ticket checker on the little red train, the other to work in the tourism office in St. Moritz. My mature age and my sketchy work history in Switzerland are strikes against me - but I had to try. If I am offered either of these jobs I would stay here for a few years - probably to retirement. It would solve both my financial and my existential problems.