Joyeuses Pâques

To start off celebrations for the Easter holiday, I attended a "Chasse des Oeufs" (Easter Egg hunt) this past Wednesday. Between my friend Nora and I, we found probably about 80% of all the eggs hidden in the woods of UNIL's campus. Unfortunately, this hunt had a rather unhelpful misnomer in that we were supposed to be looking for chocolate bunnies, and not eggs. As a result, no bunnies were found by our team. To console ourselves after our embarrassing loss and sad show of American athleticism in Bunny-finding (despite my previous experience with a runaway pet rabbit) Nora and I returned home, our pockets overflowing with eggs, and made homemade Italian-style hot chocolate. We gave our leftovers to an thankful and impressed Fang. We chocked up our day as a near complete success then, because if we can impress a Swiss with our chocolate-working skills, how bad could the world be?

In a sharing of cultures, I have introduced near to all guests in our apartment to a little game called Dutch Blitz. To my surprise, Nora knew the game, and even owned a deck of the cards herself. When I asked her how she came to discover the wonderful world of Blitz (in French: Bleetz), she told me about the coworker who introduced her to the game. Turns out, that worker is a girl I knew in Mrs. Loomis's 2nd grade class in Erie! It's a small world after all. . .

Spring break has started, so a pot of cheese fondue and a trip to Geneva were in order. I saw the famous jet d'eau and played checkers on a life-size checkerboard. It was fun being a tourist, and good practice because Heidi and I are headed for Italy tomorrow! For one week we will explore Florence and Rome. I still need to make my list of things to do for an "Audrey Hepburn Roman Holiday," but more urgently, I need to start making Easter Dinner. Hedi and I have elected to host a fêtes de Pâques for the Americans who are not able to go home for the weekend to visit their families for Easter like all the other European exchange students. An evening of bread, vegetables, nearly $20 ham sandwich slices and about $5 worth of (1600 grams) of chocolate fondue. Grocery store prices may be high for the healthy food, but my chocolate is only one step away from Free Dirt, which makes it a very happy, chocolate-y and snowy Easter. So, all in all, spring break has been and still promises to be a very fun-filled and a welcome break from classes.

Travelings

I crossed the border to France exactly one week ago. However, as beautiful as Lyon was, it didn't quite feel like I was in the France my high school textbooks always depicted. Nobody wore yellow cardigans tied over their shoulders, carrying baguettes as they roamed about the city streets quoting Apollinaire and MCSolaar. In fact, except for the (rather limited) presence of French flags, and the aggressiveness of the drivers, I felt almost as if I were back home in Switzerland. Unlike the stereotype, the people were very welcoming and tried to practice their English with Heidi and me, even when we insisted on speaking in French. So although I had a wonderful time, I must admit that I still don't feel like I've been to France. The best way I know to describe the feeling is the same as how you don't usually feel much older on your birthday.


If Chicago is the States' Windy City, then Lyon is France's. As Hedi and I climbed the hill to the Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière, I was knocked off balance twice. We figured the best idea was to continue climbing until we reached the highest point, where we faced our backs to the wind and let ourselves fly, even if only for a second at a time. The news might be reporting about the unnatural Hurricane-force winds sweeping across Europe, but I still like to believe that it is always like that there. It gives the city a bit more spunk. The basilica was beautiful, of course, and looked like it could have been the setting for Cinderella's ball, but the wind was more more interactive.

Also interactive was the Museum of Food in Vevey, Switzerland, otherwise known as the world headquarters of Nestlé. While the museum focused mainly on chocolate (we are in Switzerland), there were many different and enlightening exhibits about health and the history of diet. I, however, preferred the room where I could run on a giant hamster wheel, then get off, press a button on the wall and be rewarded with chocolate. I may be a lab rat, but at least I am a happy one.


The next morning was Sunday, and for the first time, I was able to attend a church service. It was help in a lovely little church called "Chapelle de la Gare." The building reminded me of Friar Tuck's Church in Disney's Robin Hood. It was so nice singing worship song, and very refreshing not only to have new songs, but to have them in French. After church, there was a potluck, which in French is called a Canadian Picnic, and I with a few other American girls made friends with a kind Dutch couple. We discussed Russian theology (well, they discussed and I listened for the most part) over chicken, pasta salad and spice cake. Also at church, I accidentally brushed my leg against the radiator, so now I have three four-inch long red lines up the back of my calf. It kinda looks like Wolverine clawed me.


Although I wouldn't quite call it homesickness, I am definitely starting to feel a bit strange being here. Facebook has become my enemy, because in looking at it, I have to face the truth that my conceited side wants to deny: Life continues on without me. I'm not trying to sound all exhortative and preachy, and I don't want to be lame and cliché, but it is hard to constantly feel so distant. I love being here, and I don't regret my decision to come at all, but it would just be so much easier to have my home friends here with me to share everything. So, I've come to the conclusion that we have two choices: 1. I hop on that bus in France that had a sign that said "United States," or 2. All of you need to cease having fun right now. No really, just stop. Thanks.


See you in June, when fun may resume!

Nobody's a Cowboy. . .

A snowflake fell on my nose today. I haven't seen snow actually falling outside of Disneyland since I was ten or eleven years old, so it was fantastic to watch. The snowflakes were really small and they melted as soon as they hit the ground, but they tickled when they landed on my face and they danced on their way down.

Also, I am going to be in France in less than twelve hours, and I can't wait!

Nobody's a cowboy, but nobody knows.

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.