I open my book that I
have been reading snippets at a time of for months now… Oh right, I’m starting
into a new chapter… With my new teaching life, it’s almost impossible to have a
thought for myself, especially during the week, let alone time to peer into a
novel for pleasure. Other things take precedence. The moments for me involve
running and exercising my ass off all for the BIG FAT endorphin release that my
stressed, over tired, over-personalising brain needs desperately. Teaching is exhausting, but the little
victories, the moments that a defiant student decides they respect me enough to give me their eye contact, the
“Hello Miss Lein!” in the hallway, every little baby step, makes it count.
Assumptions. The chapter
of my book, Last Chance to See
(an incredibly interesting book, with a ton of character in the writing style
by the way) begins with:
“Assumptions are the
things you don’t know you’re making, which is why it is so disorienting the
first time you take the plug out of a wash basin in Australia and see the water
spiralling down the hole the other way round”.
As Douglas Adams
describes his experience of being in Australia for the first time, I feel
myself relating to what he is experiencing. He expresses how much of a mind-intercourse
it is to have the toilet flush counter-clockwise, to dial the phone
counter-clockwise (although this does not have to do with the laws of Physics,
apparently the Aussies choose to match their toilet current with their
telephone dials).
I reflect on my initial
experiences in London that threw me for a loop.
·
The cars on the wrong side of the road (lefts
and rights are already complicated enough for Miss Lame)
·
“FOOTBALL” instead of soccer
·
Being able to count out sterling change at the
off-licence- the new shapes, sizes and value of each coin transforming a
typically automated, assumed process
into a highly conscious experience. I recall the building stress I felt as a
line of shoppers accumulate behind my slow, Canadian backside.
·
Wine and beer in the parks and streets of
London. In Canada we assume a big ol’
fine for open booze in public.
·
Social etiquette: The comment “you alright” not actually being a
genuine question requiring a specific response.
An in-passing nicety.
These are just a few of
the differences that challenged my assumptions
upon moving to London England. The
incongruities with Canadian culture defied and upheaved deeply ingrained
social/emotional expectations as well as the automated motor pathways.
This is all very
disruptive to ones flow through life. A
new place, where our expectations of what is normal, the small little details
of our regular, assumed as normal lives is disrupted by simple, what one might
consider minute, altercations to what has been ingrained in our lives, our
routines, even our neuromuscular memory. In new places- little differences in
mannerisms, social etiquette, physical designs stand out like Miss Lame in a
crowd of non- super-dork people.
To Switzerland- Time to mess with Miss Lame’s assuptions
again… Cannot wait!
Surfing in Geneva:
I plow into the petite
bachelor flat with my massive ruck sac- roughly the same size as me- and my
smaller but equally crammed backpack strapped to my front, protruding out- my
travel baby.
Flustered, new to this
couch surfing experience and the expectations of the surfer and the host, I
apologise profusely for all my stuff and awkwardly, hurriedly adjust and
position all my goods in what I hope is least space consuming.
Hamdi, my host, so warm,
welcoming, quiet and calm, gently invites me to place my stuff in the bedroom
space. Firstly, he indicates that he always tells his couch surfing visitors to
“make themselves a home”.
From the moment I stepped
into Hamdi’s home, I knew that I had found a gem of a host.
Upon my arrival, I was
invited to join Hamdi and his friends at a bar for a night out and drinks. Of
course Miss Lame happily agreed to this adventure.
It is at the “Little
Buddha” where I enjoyed my first evening of Geneva nightlife, with lovely
people, lovely music and strong drinks.
Upon meeting Hamdi’s
friends, I was greeted with not one… not two… but THREE kisses on my cheeks- A
lovely 5-10 second exchange of affection with a stranger. The Swiss want to
make sure you know you’re loved- a wonderful and most welcome discrepancy from
my ingrained assumptions- a hand
shake, or 1, MAX 2 kisses. I love it.
Another assumption that affected my night for
the better… A double vodka soda does not equate to 2 ounces of vodka in your
drink, rather, about half a glass of high quality, smooth to sip Belvedere
Vodka, with about 2 ounces of soda water. A “single” drink in Switzerland may
be more like what I equate to a “double” in the UK and Canada.
Little Buddha was lounge-like, with darker
furniture accents, candles and low lighting. The people were generally
beautiful, dressed nicely. A warm and classy
vibe. The DJ was raised up, set slightly above the lounge and social exchanges,
looking official and to be thoroughly enjoying his job. Great music- Mr. DJ got retro and played some
Miss Lame dancing favorites- Stevie Wonder, Arethra Franklin etc. Perfect. So
many new experiences challenging my ingrained assumptions, whilst the music brings me comfort through familiarity
and provoke my crazy lame dance moves.
My surfing post:
After the bar, Hamdi and
I found our way home in the bitter cold, which “not normal for Geneva” Hamdi tells me.
Home: We reach Hamdi’s
cozy little flat, consisting of a bathroom, a sweet little kitchen and a room
fitting his bed, a red futon (my surfing post) in the opposite corner and a big
desk at which Hamdi spends much time writing and developing his dissertation in
Neuroscience on the lingering effects of different emotional experiences in the
brain (an over simplification of an incredibly interesting and complicated area
of research of course).
My extraordinary host
offers me food, warming apple-cinnamon tea, fleece blankets and a pillow and the
cozy red futon.
“Is it
typical to be treated with such hospitality in the couch surfing world?” I
ask, completely floored by his generosity and caring nature.
Hamdi informs me that all
situations are different and that sometime the host has more/less time or
availability to be your guide and to be so accommodating. The philosophy, however, the principles
behind couch surfing, is that of give and take- A communal type mindset and
approach to the world of travel. You are
not expected to host, you host when your life permits, but it’s important to
understand that couch surfing is a shared experience, that you are not using
someone’s home as a hotel.
The couch surfing world
appreciates the incredible value in travel experience, from a holistic
perspective- social, experiential, shared. The absence of monetary requirement
for such a beautiful gesture as opening your home to a traveller from abroad,
is related to the key values of couch surfing- accessibility to and love for
adventure, travel and people.
The surfing world is a
community of fellow globe trotter support and appreciation. A beautiful thing.
Saturday in Geneva, Hamdi
and I enjoy a lovely “lie in”- rising from our cozy sleeping posts at 11am.
Hamdi goes swimming. I go
for a run along the river which cuts through Geneva, it is turquois, moving
quickly, with particles of ice floating down stream. The swimming ducks make me
shutter. The graffiti I pass as I run along the path is beautiful, quirky and
distracting. I stop often to take photos.
Lunch- Hamdi introduces
me to an authentic Swiss meal. Much like fondue- it is called “Raclette”- we
heat cheese in mini trays within the special “Raclette” appliance.
“Only 20 Swiss Franks!” Hamdi
informs me excitedly.
The perfectly melted
cheese is scooped onto your plate and we consume it with perfectly boiled young
potatoes and antipasto bites- olives and authentic dill cornichons.
Saturday night, Hamdi and
I climbed the winding cobble roads inclining into the heart of the Old City.
Charming. Old. Beautiful.
It is here where Hamdi introduces
me to his restaurant of choice- a quaint, casual, lovely little restaurant, in
a typically expensive, classic area of town, where you can enjoy a reasonably
priced chicken dinner. Following dinner, another delightful bar- “Alhambra”,
which I am informed it a special Palace in Southern Spain. Again, a fantastic new setting is combine
with familiar music and Miss Lame smiles and visits with her lovely host.
Portes du Soliel- Assumptions:
I set out for the Swiss Alps, booking a bed in a 6 bedroom dorm at a
lodge called Auberge Chez Nelly, moments from the “liftes” and “piste” of the
segment of Portes du Soliel called Les Crosets, with expectations that this
setting would bring me much social opportunity during my stay.
Online it was indicated that I was the final individual to book into
this room. Perfect.
The train, then the bus, I travelled up, up, up and into the Swiss Alps,
the mountains swallowing me, the vehicle and the surreally placed chalets
speckling the grand contours whole. I gaze, jaw hung open, at my surroundings,
the setting sun highlighting the peaks and curves just so- A moment gone within
5 minutes as the sun continues to lower in the sky and new features are brought
to focus.
The daylight nearly gone, I am dropped in front of my new lodging. Gravity pulls exceptionally hard at my abnormally
weighted body. I am relieved to have
brought my ski boots, while also hating the fact.
(Throughout my journey many have laughed at the sight of Miss Lame- a
5’3, petite woman, a big smile on her
face, enveloped by enough luggage to
move house)
As move into Chez Nelly my anticipation for social contact begins to
dwindle as I pass a small family, a Mom, a Dad, a daughter, enjoying dinner in
the restaurant area that could seat around 20, and as I climb the stairs to my
6 people mixed dorm and the sound of my own footsteps dominate the space. Complete
silence. My room is charming, with wooden accents and features, a very cottagey
feel, and 6 empty, unused beds. All for Miss Lame. So many bed options from
which to choose. Goody.
The Swiss do clean WELL. My room, the toilet and shower room, all in pristine condition- this is calming.
The Swiss do clean WELL. My room, the toilet and shower room, all in pristine condition- this is calming.
With the Swiss, you don’t get those feelings of apprehension about
setting down your things or food items on particular surfaces. The articles
already existing on the surfaces, the current state of the space is reassuring,
you feel confident in the purity. It’s not overly sterile. It’s comfortable.
I can very quickly get used to this anthropologic assumption.
After moving into my spacious room in Chez Nelly, I progressed downstairs
to the bar/restaurant- completely ready for dinner and WINE. As I attempted to
make small talk with the server and ask simple requests such as “NEED WINE”, I
quickly realised a language barrier built up around Miss Lame. The only English
speaking person in Chez Nelly. This
poses yet another challenge to my preconceived expectations of my trip and my
stay in the Swiss Alps.
Growing exhausted by the communication blockade, approaching inquiries
and comments from a number of angles and word choice avenues, not to mention
ample gesturing, I sought my laptop and good old “google translate”. Through “google translate” I decipher the
menu and decide on “Truite le amandes”- trout with almonds, which came with a
small portion of vegetables and of course “frites”- they do a lot of potato in
Switzerland.
The wine is good. The Swiss do wine well too.
Miss Lame had to adjust her expectations- the next few days are
dedicated to skiing and outdoorsy business, it’s ok to enjoy quality solo Miss
Lame time.
(skiing in the Swiss Alps = EXCEPTIONAL quality)
Portes due Soliel- The Skiing:
Enough said.
After spending 2 nights in Chez Nelly, which was lovely but potentially “lamer” than Miss Lame, and then staying 2 nights in the beautiful home of my new skiing friend, Pia and her 11 year old son, I was in grave need of socialisation with individuals approximately my age…
Furthermore, to be around fellow travellers from all over the world,
looking to connect, will be refreshing after struggling with the language
barriers and the undue guilt and stress of “being
Canadian and NOT able to carry on a conversation in French”… (I
disappointed many). The Swiss/French
culture did not seem to do small talk
attempts with someone who hadn’t come prepared to speak in their language. The most I got was a smile and a few simple
questions from sweet families staying in Chez Nelly who saw me day after
day. I found this experience fairly
isolating. It was a distinct contrast to my experiences in South America, where
the culture is highly expressive and communicates with you in every form- body
language, dance, verbal (despite the series of smiles, laughter and over-usage
of the universal symbol of “I don’t
know”).
Off to Zurich, the German influenced region of Switzerland, to do city
life in a hostel with other young people.
NOTE:
Any
words that are bolded, italicized, underlined and in
red
are suggested/preferred words by Mom. She doesn’t
like me saying words like fuck,
shit,
ass
(etc) on the internet… I feel these words better illustrate my feelings as
times, so just imagine them in there if you will.
