Bienvenue a Lausanne

Well, here we are. Switzerland’s staring me square in the face.

It’s certainly not a bad thing to have staring at you, as you can’t help but stare back. Lausanne is a truly beautiful place, with a really pleasant fusion of the now and the yesteryear. Clean, modern buildings and sleek metro stations flank detailed old homes and churches, without either element really screaming at the other.

Lac Leman (Lake Geneva) is so peaceful, and when it’s foggy out to the degree that you don’t see the mountains on the horizon, it feels like the ocean. True story - for my entire childhood, as far back as I can remember, I’ve had a fascination with drawing bodies of water surrounded by mountains, with the branches of a tall oak tree on each upper corner of the paper. Switzerland is my childhood drawings come to life.

It’s beautiful, but it's also intimidating. Those two energies leave me desiring to remain a spectator to this place. It’s safe as a spectator, but it becomes fearsome when you start to participate.

Case in point: Dominique and I were walking through the downtown Migros (one of the major grocery chain stores), when I bumped into a man and his shopping cart. I quickly mumbled “Pardon,” but he kept saying something to us as he passed. It sounded like he was scolding me, and while I stayed fairly cool on the outside, I was flipping out inside. Dominique said something to the man, and then told me “I don’t know what he’s saying, but he’s smiling, so it can’t be that bad.” Even if that were true, I became so afraid, wondering what I would do in a similar situation if Dominique weren’t there to smooth things over. How dumb would I look? How foolish? How disrespectful? Will my blunders permit the Swiss to associate my imperfections with that of my nationality - will I be just another bumbling, insensitive American to them??

For the rest of the day, I was pretty spooked, and had no courage to approach strangers or clerks, even to ask the classic tourist question of “Parlez-vous anglais?”

Things perked up as we walked along the park in Ouchy (part of which, la Place de la Navigation, you see above), picked up some Magnum ice cream bars from Coop (the other major Swiss store), and went to the CHUV (the hospital where Dominique studies) for some internet time, as our apartment has no wifi. My heart was so warmed by the love from my friends on Facebook, and speaking to my mom over Google Voice (free international calls! WootWoot!!).

Each interaction I had online was uniquely precious to me, but one really took the cake. A friend-of-a-friend named Dominic started chatting with me on Facebook, and upon hearing his concerns about auditioning for his college’s voice program, I encouraged him that oftentimes, we are better at things than we give ourselves credit for. As soon as I typed those words to him, a French song (one of the scant few I have saved in iTunes) began to play. I was stunned. God totally just shot my advice back to me like a boomerang. I felt that he genuinely wanted to encourage me to trust in my capacity to speak French. And I have.

As I write this, I have also been flipping through my French dictionary to try and decipher the lyrics to the song that played (Amel Bent’s “Ma Philosophie,” in case anyone knows it). I could be wrong, but it actually sounds like a song about self-affirmation, and working hard to achieve your goals. Spooky, huh?

I told a friend today that the intimidation and the beauty of this place balance each other out, and that I am hoping to tip the scales towards beauty. I think the scales have already been tipped.

A demain,

Cathlene

In Media Res

21^st August, 2011

It’s a cloudy morning in Brussels, the sort of morning that coaxes a pensive mind. I am at Gate A33 in Brussels International Airport, awaiting my connecting flight to Geneva after a seven hour flight from JFK.

At present, I am unaccompanied. Dominique’s connecting flight out of Brussels was earlier than mine, and he thus had to sprint through the airport, while I have about two hours to simmer. I’m glad that Dominique was the one to get the earlier flight, as a) he’s the faster runner, and b) I welcome these moments alone to reflect on what’s ahead of me, as this two and a half month trip is rather different from previous trips.

Now that I’m a college graduate, and now that Dominique and I are legally married, we are beginning to think more longterm. This trip is essentially a test, to see how things work for us living together in Switzerland, and determine whether it is a lifestyle we can reasonably pursue. I view these things from a practical as well as emotional perspective, because to me, feeling at peace in a place is essentially as important as whether I can learn the language or find a job. So, this trip is our experiment.

This time more than ever before, I miss my mom. A part of my heart just sinks whenever I think about being away from her and my brother for so long. I hear babies crying throughout the terminal, and quite frankly, I’d love to join the ensemble. I wept as our plane left JFK, more than I can recall ever weeping. I mean, I realize I am a fairly weepy person, but to mourn our separation so much is a bit surprising. But then, my mom has gone through so much these past few years, and continues to do so, that perhaps it makes sense to miss her this much. Plus, as we are so eager to live together as an eventual three-generational household, it seems a bit unfair to think of living apart when we want to be together. It’s ironic, when I think about it. Most people my age are waiting for the moment they can leave their parents and get out of the house, be it via their driver’s license, their out-of-state college choice, or their new lives begun with spouses and families. I’m mostly the reverse, content to spend my Friday nights at home, happy to exchange details of the day with my mom, and eager to do such things for many years to come.

But life has its ebb and flow, and that path can never be solely in our control. At its best, it is a balance of co-creation between ourself and God. It’s a concept that’s easy to say but hard to live, being as it is rooted in placing one’s trust in something incorporeal. But it is what we must do. It’s what I must do - for the next two months, and beyond.

This moment and this spot seem to me a very fine place to begin this blog, which is meant to be a place for me to reflect on my travels and experiences for these next few months. This place is just one stop on the journey, just as this trip is one stop on our journey to find out way as a couple. And as much as the fears of today tend to strand us within today, we are always present within one stop on some larger journey. It is these thoughts which ground me - these, and the gentle loving eyes from my husband as we travel. We can be each other’s personal douleur dans la derriere, but we definitely know when to cut the crap so that we can support each other, and Dominique has absolutely done that.

All in all, there’s fear, but there’s also hope, and much to look forward to. I want to capture that muchness as much as I can, here, in words and maybe sometimes in other media. I hope this place can house something good. And I hope it will be something you enjoy too.

Until next entry,

Cathlene