Leap Year Day

Happy Leap Year! I didn't realize that it was a leap year until I happily went to my calender this morning (because it's just darn exciting turning the calender page to the new month) and saw that 29. But this is even better than flipping the page! Is Leap Year Day a holiday? I think that it should be! I will spend the rest of the day inventing Leap Year Day traditions and activities. Let me know if you have any suggestions.

On Mountains and Museums

I realized that I enjoyed a nine-week winter break, and I am out of practice at being a student, much less in a French speaking classroom. Luckily for me, my Monday classes are overwhelmingly forgiving, despite their foreign-language instruction. For example, my "language and Culture" class, which I was highly looking forward to, as perhaps an introduction to the role of language in various societies across the world, has spend the past two lessons discussing how well the Swiss Army knife exemplifies the Swiss people and how drinking Ovalmatine Chocolate may save your life if your are caught in a blizzard. Ah well, c'est la vie suisse.

Last Thursday, I was very much enjoying my American Literature Survey Course. Not just because it is taught in English, but because the professor, a lovely woman from New England, reads the texts to the class, carefully pronouncing each word, treating each phrase with so much care and respect that it is as if she were telling us the most wonderful story ever written to the class. It reminds me of the way my Aunt Colleen used to read Poe to my cousins and me at our All-Girl Sleepovers, in the way that she becomes the one person in the world responsible for conveying the beauty of the written word. Anyways, I was enjoying her reading of "Young Goodman Brown" when I glanced out the window and saw the Alps for the very first time. It has been so foggy and cloudy (and actually a bit smoggy, which I did not expect to see in Switzerland) that before then, I only just knew that the mountains were hiding across the lake. Now I can happily say that I have seen the Alps, even if not perfectly clearly, and have been mesmerized by their serene beauty.

I visited Ouchy this weekend and found it rather similar to Dana Point Harbor. Just with less pollution and fewer boats. And to clarify, it is not pronounced like the boo-boo, ouchie, but Oo-shee. There, I went to the museum of photography and visited a three story exhibit of Edward Steichen. I wish that I could comment more positively on this, but I had great hopes for the museum, and I'm afraid that I was slightly less than impressed. Not by the museum itself, as it was a handsome building atop a hill overlooking the lake, but by the lack of diversity of photographers. Well, I guess I could always go visit the Louvre.

Last night all of my flatmates had guests over, so we had a proper collection of internationals, a melange of young people from the US, Switzerland, Russia, China, France and Austria. I love the fact that I have been able to escape the obsession with celebrities and Access Hollywood, and even more that I have traded that with the possibility to hear stories of different experiences of the world. For example, I had never met anyone before yesterday that could tell me firsthand was it was like to experience the Soviet collapse. Or to have faced racism while backpacking through Europe. Or come from Vienna, but never heard of the Von Trapp Family Singers. (Ok, maybe that one doesn't quite fit, but I'm still putting it in my list.) It makes me feel smarter, more culturally aware, which is pretty sweet, but really that's what this whole thing is about, right?

Lessons and (or on) Swiss Chocolate

I have been craving something sweet, like some type of fruit candy or a funfetti cupcake, or a cinnamon bun, because almost everything desert here is Swiss chocolate. But I still love my chocolate, and haven't been able to deny myself my daily dose! However, I have not been impressed with Swiss Hot Chocolate yet, as so far all I've been given is a mug of boiled milk with a side package of cocoa powder not even large enough to turn the milk very brown.

Today, I went to my Bilingualism class to find that in that specific lecture hall, there was no lecture on Bilingualism, but instead a small class of people doing Literary Analysis of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Pygmalion. So, I decided to stay. The prof was a very nice Irish lady who introduced herself as the head of the exchange students for the department, so there was no problem in my being part of the class. Luck has finally come to take pity on me!



I am taking a "cours du danse" here as well, just because. Yesterday evening, I discovered that Rock and Roll is very interesting hybrid of swing and jive. The instructor kept switching CDs between Elvis's 'Jailhouse Rock' and Soft Cell's 'Tainted Love,' which, of course, makes perfect sense. At least it's fun to hear dance lessons instructed in French. If I could, I would have all dance lessons across the world taught in French because the compliments sound so much nicer, and the criticisms are so threatening that you become completely petrified to find out what happens if you don't correct yourself immediately.

Well, I got all sorted with Olivier, so I know what legal stuff I have to do so I'm not thrown into a Swiss prison for not declaring myself with the Office for Citizen Control. However, somehow in my papers being lost, I was put into the Economics department, so now I must re-enroll with the Linguistics and French as a Foreign Language Departments. Mom told me to make lists of everything I have to do, but I already have papers stacked two feet high all over my desk, so I'm afraid that if I make lists, then I won't worry about remembering everything, then lose the papers, forget to go somewhere, and be thrown into a Swiss prison.

Just now, Gian was late for class, but still took time to make a full, balanced and well prepared traditional Swiss lunch of cooked carrots, boiled potatoes and lamb with sauce. Then he bolted for the door, because you cannot be late in Switzerland. But then he came running back in to tell me, "This morning, I sold 23 pairs of socks! Business is good!" Then he ran out again. This is a perfect example of my Swiss experience so far.

Sometimes I feel I've got to
Run away; I've got to
Get away
un, deux, trois et quatre, cinq et six.

One Day in One Sentence

I was upset to discover that only US viewers may watch Lost on ABC online, but then a man who was alone on the metro started smiling to himself all of a sudden, like he remembered something happy.

Settling In...

Finally I understand why people took so many of those pictures at the Gare in the movie Amélie. It's because you need a passport photo for absolutely everything here! The metro pass, student ID card, ESN card, your visa, your Migros card, and of course your passport. I thought that bringing one would be enough- I was wrong! I need to stop by the Lausanne-Flon Metro stop tomorrow to take more pictures! I'll be so tired of seeing my own face in little 1"x1"squares by the end of this semester!

Today was a good day. It started off the coldest morning yet; it made my ears feel like they were being sliced off by the wind. I went to la rencontre d’accueil, or the Introduction to the University for exchange students. It made everything so much clearer- I actually know what I need to do now! I got there two hours early, so along with four other girls (a German, an Austrian, a Pole and a Swiss-German), we stopped for thé and chocolat chaud, then took a walk along Lac Léman. We found the sheep and the elusive donkeys. We also saw some swans, who were as beautiful and as graceful as anything, or at least they were until one almost came on shore to attack us, which is when we ran away.



The information was helpful and I was feeling great until it came time for me to pick up my student ID card, which was nowhere to be found. I stood in line after line until I met Olivier, who upon hearing that I was a student from Cal State Long Beach he exclaimed: "You are Elizabeth! I have waited and waited for you! We were so worried that you wouldn't come!" Now, the whole "worrying" thing usually implies some sort of problem, and I definitely had a problem. Somehow, almost all of my paperwork had gotten lost in the mail, or left in an office, or something very mysterious and very not-Swiss. So, I have been temporarily put on hold until I can meet with Olivier on Monday and get my ID card and register for classes and all.

Cool thing about Swiss classes- you don't actually register for about 3 weeks into the semester. We get to attend as many classes as we want, without attendance taken, then choose which ones we liked best at the end of the three weeks.

When I got home, my two flatmates had a surprise for me: pink tulips, a Black Forest cake, and a bottle of "girly" champagne, as Gian called it. So we had a tiny little 10-minute fête. Then Gian left for work (not the sock company), and Heidi and I made spaghetti with meat sauce by slicing up one of my frozen hamburger patties. Then we brought a peace offering of Swiss chocolate to the girls that live upstairs, and had a pleasant evening with our new friends.

Bonjour Lausanne!

I have arrived in Switzerland!! After my first flight from LAX to Heathrow was three hours late, I missed my connecting flight in London. So, I got to spend some time at Heathrow, learning that the British have signs that say "Give Way" instead of "Yield," and that the airport is not as horrendous as it has been described to me, but actually very clean and easy to navigate. Anyways, by the time I finally got Geneva, I had missed my train to Lausanne. So I waited for the next train, and realized that the Gare makes you pay half a franc to use the rest room. If you do not have exactly a half-franc, you may not get change, and you may not pee. So instead of wasting time moping about having to hold it, I asked a friendly custodian to teach me how to use the payphone. Besides, I needed a bit of extra time to get two suitcases and a carry-on bag (totaling about 30 kilos) onto a train by my 5foot3 self.

Once in Lausanne, I was guided onto two different metro trains and one bus to my new home, la Maison des Ochettes. Tricky thing, though, you need a key to get into your room, and my rendez-vous with a certain house manager to obtain said key was called off, though not to my knowledge. So after waiting outside on le Chemin de Berges for about 20 minutes, I called to find out that my key was happily locked away in a safe in one of the buildings. So, I got the secret safe code, got my key, and let myself into my apartment.

From my window I see a pleasant little creek, a rusty swing set, a tall apartment complex about a 1/4 mile away, and a row of California-gardener hacked trees. Instead of hiring gardeners, my school has adopted a flock of sheep which they herd around and have them graze on different lawns each week. I've heard that there are donkeys that roam about as spare lawn-mowers as well, but they have eluded me thus far. Lac Leman (Lake Geneva) is peaceful, with it's slate blue-gray water that comes in to the shore in shwishing one-and-a-half inch waves.



People here check their watches so much that I really wouldn't be surprised if they started replacing "How are you?" with "What time is it?" They have all been lovely, very welcoming and patient. Patient seems almost paradoxical, because everything is run on time, and if you are late, then you're out of luck with no hope, (except for the next train of course). But, the way they explain that your situation really is unfortunate is very kind. They are all so proud of their country and their Swiss-ness. I've never heard of a country put some sort of sunblock on their apples so the flag is "naturally" grown into the apple skins, but sure enough, they do that here! The people I have met so far have all been very polite and good-humored as they explain to me that the Swiss way is not my way (yet) but I will come to see that it is the best. This message isn't condescending or critical, just a simple truth that there is nothing better than Swiss life.

Stephanie is my Partnership Program Partner through X-change UNIL. She is my tour guide to Lausanne, the one who can answer all my Swiss Common Sense questions, and the one who helped me find Ochettes without panicking that I was lost and that my French was unintelligible. She gave me a box of Lindt chocolate and socks with Swiss flags on them when I arrived. She is really nice, and actually, quite beautiful. In trying to Swiss-ize me, she now refuses to speak English unless I am completely without an idea about what is being said to me.



I live in an apartment with one other girl and two boys. I have my own room, though. The girl is Heidi, and didn't think about being a Heidi traveling to Switzerland until someone mentioned Shirley Temple to her. She is from Maryland and studies architecture. Needing to go to Lyon to pick up her Visa, Hiedi has invited me to go with her in about a month. She also wants to travel to Holland and Italy. I believe that I've found my travel buddy!

The guy in the first room is named Gian (John). He is very sociable and is always just coming into the room to offer advice on which is the best supermarket and which castles are the nicest to visit. He speaks English well, and he nicely corrects my French when I mix up genders and adjectives. He also started a company selling men's socks, and keeps thousands of plain black men's socks in his room.

The third flatmate is Fang. We have not met yet, but his name has promise.

The metro trains are really smooth and fast. There is no snow on the ground, but it has been about 30-32 degrees Fahrenheit the past few days. My favorite swiss chocolate so far is the Lindt Classic Cresta. I have not tried any hot chocolate yet. Prices here are crazy expensive. At the grocery store, (which is called Migros) 1 raw chicken breast in the little saran-wrapped thing is about $9. But, I supermarket swept and got a big bag of frozen chicken patties and a big bag of ground beef for about $13 each. That was good news. There is a company called Budget, and it's going to save my tummy from shrivilling up in emptiness. They sell cheap food, kinda like Target has Market Pantry, and Costco has Kirkland. I went to a Budget-less grocery store called Coop, and a half-sized bottle of shampoo was almost ten bucks.

I haven't gotten lost in the city yet, but everything is so tall and there are so many alley ways and look-alike staircases that it's only a matter of time before I do. So far my favorite place has been the little creek (of which I do not know the name yet) right where the Metro 1 line stops as Dorigny by the University. Either that, or this unbelievably wide tree by "Le Banane."

The toilet paper here is light blue and has little raised bumps on it, so it looks just like that neck-napkin that dentists put on you so you don't spit on yourself. My apartment is pretty quiet, maybe because we don't all know each other yet, maybe we are all just kinda boring. Fang came in once (we think) because we heard his door open and close, but it has been about 12 hours since then, and there hasn't been a sound. Did he teleport out? Mayyybe. Did he die? Possible. Did he fall asleep? Likely. Did he never actually come in and now our apartment is starting to go 1408 on us and make us hear ghosts?. . . Even more likely.

The elevator is shady, to speak of it positively. You press 4, and you get to Level 5. So you think, at least, because there is a gigantic 5 on the wall when the elevator doors open. But no, they accidentally painted a 5 on the fourth level, and decided not to change it. That was helpful on move in. The first time I got in the elevator, when Stephanie was helping my take my bags up to my room, all the lights went out and we went (rather quickly) downwards. We ended up in the basement. Jenette would have peed her pants. Two people were in the basement, luckily and showed us the correct way of pushing the buttons. Those two actually turned out to be Gian and Heidi. Oh! If you want to get to the roof, you have to put your room key in this unmarked key slot, turn it a quarter to the left, then press the roof button. Otherwise the lights go out, and you are sped to the basement. A giant gorilla dog lives down there. No, I'm not kidding-- the house manager Monsieur Duranot keeps his fuzzy little mini-horse down there.

Overall, it has been quite an adventure so far. I go to my university's Day of Welcome tomorrow, and hopefully will find out there what classes I am supposed to show up for on Monday, because as of yet, no one has been able to tell me how to register for any schooling at this school. Oh well. At least I'm learning to weigh my carrots at the grocery store before I get to the checker if I don't want to be grumbled at in French, German and Italian all at the same time.

I have been 21 for 39 Swiss minutes now, so I think it would be okay if I unwrapped my gift from Auntie Freda, and opened my "Do-Not-Open-Until-Your-Birthday" cards.

Bonne Nuit!