Poster for "Revolution for a Better Future", Geneva.
Back to post-travel week, I was still in Switzerland with my host family, in Gland with the oversized red flower pots. I got used to taking the 20 minute train ride into Geneva every morning to work in cafés or the University library in the Old Town, and as spring came into full force I enjoyed those train rides more and more. Of course, just because there was work to be done didn't mean that the fun had to stop... One of the most beautiful and fun trips was to the vineyards of Lavaux. With a few friends, we took a roughly 2 hour train ride along Lac Leman to St. Saphorin, and from there walked for 4 hours through the terraced vineyards along the lake, through town after quaint town. A brutal sunburn ensued, but the views, company, and stop in a small town for ice cream by the lake made it a perfect day. Walking in the sweltering heat, looking across the clear blue water at snow-covered mountains was really something, and kind of epitomized Switzerland.
Lac Léman in St. Saphorin.
Old Town (or medina??) in St. Saphorin.
Wine hike in the Lavaux region.
Cully, lakeside.
More trips to our favorite spots in Nyon, hanging out by the lake watching the Mont Blanc in the distance, and a trip to Bain de Paquis to eat an awkward but delicious fondue as it de-fond'ed because of the chilly twilight air. I became a regular at a certain café, and took one last bike trip in Gland down to the "beach". I went with some friends to a comedy show in a hip basement bar in Lausanne, a university town about 20 minutes from Gland, where we sat and tried to follow the rapid-fire, energetic French amid the laughter of the audience. My host sister, Fanny, and I took a trip to Lausanne with a friend, which was another one of my favorite days, now too many to count. We took an early train, then went first to the cathedral in Lausanne, and it was there that I realized how much I was going to miss this place. I had never been to that cathedral before, or had even been in Lausanne for too long. What was it? After climbing to the top of the bell tower and looking out over the entire city, we walked around the cobblestone streets sloping up and down, looking into the shops. The whole time I couldn't help but think how I wished I had visited the town more during my short three months, and also that the program was held in Lausanne as opposed to Geneva... I have come to believe that Geneva is almost too international, losing any sense of Swiss culture, but at the same time embodying it since it is, after all, integral to Switzerland... hmm.
View of Lausanne from the bell tower of the cathedral.
Cathedral in Lausanne.
Rose window, Lausanne cathedral.
Last but certainly not least-- I finally made it to my host-family's chalet! Yes, the day before I had to leave them for 2 last weeks in Croatia with the program. We weren't leaving till around 11, so I had just enough time to run into Geneva to pick up some last minute souvenirs/chocolate for people back home. Then we boarded the train, armed with sandwiches and snacks from Raphael, my host family's favorite bakery (conveniently located across from the Gland train station). It was a comfortable 3 hour train ride, transferring once, with the villages passing by the window further and further apart and winding through more and more mountains. The last train we rode felt like a Disney ride, teeny tiny and red. I munched on tiny baguette sandwiches with my host siblings, watching as we ascended up and up and up. We reached our stop, and school children got off-- my host brother Guillaume explained how very very isolated these children are, and how removed this part of Switzerland was from the rest. We started walking up a hill, and I could see a community of chalets and in the distance-- beautiful mountain scenery, literally post-card, Sound of Music, what you imagine when you hear the words "Swiss mountain chalet". It was like a beach house community but in the mountains. We walked up and up, on and on and finally made it to the chalet, built by one of Papa Jean's cousins decades ago because his mother's chalet was too out of the way. I thought that was funny, and marveled at the genuine, honest work that was this wooden chalet. My host siblings became kids again-- the most important thing was to taste the water. "Water from the chalet!" I had been promised great things from this water, and they were right-- it was clean and cold and delicious. This reminded me of one time last semester, when we were visiting relatives and we visited an aunt who had just come back from the hajj, and she had brought back holy water and Nora and I were given some, even though we were guests and not Muslim. Water is important and is ascribed importance on so many levels everywhere... one of those many human commonalities.
Easter bunny brioche from Raphael!
Ma famille-- going to the chalet at Les Granges
Picturesque-- this is real.
Blue
The chalet!
View from a window over the couch
We toured around the whole little chalet, looking at grandma Diana's mountain outfit that had been hand-made for her and looked very much like something out of the Sound of Music or the rented Polish dance costume I wore once in a dance. There were all sorts of little nooks and crannies with windows looking out onto the mountains and the valley, complete with cows grazing. In one of the small attic bedrooms I found an old poster advertising Royal Air Maroc, and I couldn't (and can't) stop seeing parallels and being reminded of where I've been. Or maybe it's just globalization.
Serieusement??
Then it was time for the grand tour-- not only was this picturesque chalet overlooking a serene and almost imaginary scene, but there was a waterfall at the end of the walking trail! Of course. Along the way, Fanny and Guillaume showed me their favorite things to do and places to play along the trail as kids. This included a game where Fanny pelted Guillaume with fallen pinecones, and the little clovers that you could eat and get a surprisingly intense sour flavor from such a small little leaf, and their favorite rock-climbing hide out. The started scrambling up it, and excused me from joining them if I didn't want to come up. They were surprised and truly happy when I said of course I was climbing up with them! I wasn't going to miss out on any of this childhood joy and fun. We reached the waterfall and crossed a narrow, rickety bridge that Guillaume took pleasure in rocking while we were walking on it. We climbed some steps built into the mountainside, looked even further into the distance, over mountains and into valleys, looking at the specks of cows and the sparkling of the Rhône river-- the same one that runs through France. It was breathtaking. I am so lucky, just so lucky.
The Rhône river from the side of a mountain
Playing in the woods :)
Bridge to the waterfall
We went back to the chalet for some tea and more of that indescribable water, and some smuggled chocolates (of course). Then we walked back through the chalet-town, onto the Disney train, and began the journey home. On the train back on the ground, so to speak, we acquired Magali at the stop in Lausanne where she was coming from school. Someone asked her if she was thirsty and she said no, but when they clarified that it was from the chalet she accepted excitedly-- too funny. It was like we all reunited on that train, and everyone was so happy to see each other, and we laughed when we were all sprayed by the beer that someone had opened too enthusiastically while the train lurched forward. We got home in time for a last dinner, one more time around the table with Papa Jean and Diana and the kids and Anne and me. I finished packing and put together the photo album I had made for them as a thank you gift-- all photos of the scenery I had seen traveling throughout their beautiful country. Switzerland is so varied and vast, and I realized just how special each corner of it is. There were tears that night, mostly my own until Anne stated, matter-of-factly, that I should not cry, because I will surely be back in Europe, and I will surely come back again. That shut me right up, and I was good to go until the morning, when I snuffled as I tried to shove my shoes into my suitcases and my bemused and wary host brother looked on. Anne walked me to the train station, for the last time, and even now I feel how sad I was then. They had been home to me for three months, and I had gotten attached once again. But that's what makes it worth it, I suppose.
rue de la savoie, with the strange oversized red pots
Home sweet home
On the too-many-hour long train ride from Geneva to Trieste, Italy, all of the students talked and laughed and reminisced, and it didn't seem so bad because we were all still together and still had a few weeks of adventure in front of us. A different adventure, but one we were all looking forward to. Man, I wish I had taken pictures of that train ride through northern Italy... it was rural and countryside and great. I watched it fly by.
No comments:
Post a Comment