Mon Aventure

If home is where the heart is, then my home is in many places.  I headed for Dullus airport with great enthusiasm to return to Chris and to my life in Switzerland.  I got on the plane and my heart sank for a brief moment, slightly disengaging from my home in the U.S. once again and remembering that this next landing will not yet be my final destination, if indeed a final destination is ever in my future.

Nonetheless, my current home in Switzerland is full of delights. 

Geneva airport was closed due to unmanagable amounts of snow, so the pilot landed us in Paris, put us on a bus to the train station and told us to take a train from Paris to Geneva.  This sounds glamorous, but by the time I got home, I hadn't slept in 27 hours.  It was a stimulating adventure, but not much of a delight.

Arriving in the dark to a transformed Geneva was a gift to make it all worthwhile.  Christmas lights fell upon Geneva while I was gone along with a beautiful blanket of snow.  I stumbled out of a cab, sloshed across a wet sidewalk and up the stairs of our apartment to fall into my husband's arms.  Blissful reunion.

He immediately suggested we go skiing on Saturday.  This meant returning to work sooner and cramming it all in on Thursday and Friday so I could be free on Saturday.  Not my orininal plan.  Once again, recovering from jet lag would take a back seat to living life to the fullest.  He tried to talk me out of it once he saw how exhausted I was, but I had latched on to his idea and wouldn't let go.  By the end of the day on Saturday, I know we both felt the experience was worth the effort.  I don't have photos of this for you.  You'll just have to imagine the glory.  I was in heaven and taking pictures would have detracted from the day of escape.

In about 6 hours, around noon today, I might regret this decision. It's 5:35am and I am abandoning good sense in order to find a few minutes to talk to you. I really ought to go back to bed. My eyes are already starting to burn. But it's been 2 months since my last post and I don't know about you, but I'm simply aching for our little chat.

So grab a cup of your favorite hot drink and come and sit by me for a minute...

I'm having green tea. I'm sitting on my parents mint green couch in the mountains of Virginia, home for Thanksgiving. I woke up at 4 in the morning because some part of my body is still in Switzerland where it's mid morning and my husband is hard at work. Chatting with you, instead of forcing myself to sleep, means I won't adjust to this time zone as fast, but then again, why was that important?

This couch has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. It used to be brick red. Mom gave it a new skin at some point in the last 30 years, but the bones are still the same. Sitting on it has the power to bridge my past with my present. I've traveled the world. I've lived in 10 different locations during my 32 years. With each move I seem to journey farther and farther away from this couch. Seasons change, but some things remain constant. Like this couch. I love this couch.


On the other hand, I love changes and new seasons. I cannot express how much I deeply adore each season of the year with equal passion. I don't have a favorite. Switzerland is one of the best places to experience all 4 seasons at their best. In the two months since my last post, Autumn gently fell, encircling, preparing me for the cocoon of hibernation that will be winter in Geneva. A month ago it was yellow leaves that first caught my attention as I walked Bear home from the park. Stopping, I looked up and time seemed to stand still as I floated upward in magic, leaves gently swirling, descending around me, whispering on the wind the warning of colder days ahead. Since then, Genevans have been experimenting with boots, longer sleeves, sweaters and scarves. A few days later I stepped outside and wished I'd grabbed a hat and mittens. Biting air only lasted one day and retreated, but it was a good warning. The hat and mittens are now in my bag every time I go out, ready, just in case. I'm using them with ever increasing frequency.

This is the first time in our marriage that Chris and I will be apart for a major holiday. Surprisingly, we're not bothered by it at all. He'll be with his family and I'll be with my family. This is the most logical choice in our minds at this particular time. We've had 10 satisfying years together, we see one another all the time and we live an ocean apart from all the other people who mean the most to us. Our vacation time is limited, so dividing up seems the best way to maximize the time and connect with family. Besides, Switzerland doesn't even celebrate Thanksgiving and is none the worse for it. Traditions are the spice of life. But this Thanksgiving, I'm giving thanks for my freedom... the freedom to do what meets the need of the moment. Bit by bit, I'm breaking free of my sacred habits.

I know what your next question is... "What in heavens name have I been up to for the last two months that was so important that I didn't have time to sit and chat with you like this???"

There are many answers, but the simplest answer is that I've been running from my homesickness. I've been staying as busy as possible so I don't have time to feel homesick. The period between August and November actually FLEW by. It's very fitting that my last post was about my time in Virginia, because I feel like I was just here only moments ago.

So lets fill in those missing months...

The house is waking up.  We may have to continue this chat later...

I'd like to share my Snapfish photos with you. Once you have checked out my photos you can order prints and upload your own photos to share.
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There is so much more to see and do in London. For one thing, I intend to go back to the National Gallery.
WITHOUT Chris. He just couldn't appreciate it and I don't blame him. It's not his thing. He endured it for a while for my sake.

I stood in front of a Renoir original and I got really emotional. I wasn't expecting that.  I like Renoir, but he's not my all time favorite and I didn't realize I could be so emotional about art.  I usually look at it as a job.  It's what I get paid to do.  But standing in front of a Renoir original, I realized I was as close as I'll ever be to one of my childhood tutors.  I learned to paint by renting big Renoir coffee table books from the library and copying his and other artists famous works.  Why did I feel a strong connection to him more than the others in that moment?  I have no idea.  It's an experience I will never forget.

Below is a photo of a postcard of the original Renoir I saw in the London National gallery.





Speaking of paintings, the one I told you I was working on is finished and has been shipped to the owner.

Here's the finished project before it was framed...

I've been trotting the globe for over a month now, but I'm back in Geneva and we can finally sit here and have a proper chat.  As we talk, a bee occasionally flies around my head.  Our windows don't have screens, so every creature that flies feels welcome in my apartment during summer.  I like it and I don't like it.  Occasionally I find bird poop on a table.  I'm not sure whether to be bothered by the bird poop or charmed that a bird was in my apartment.

Since my last post we've celebrated our 10th Anniversary at a Resort in Virginia, spent nearly 3 weeks at home visiting his family and my family and we've played the tourist in London.  London is freshest in my mind because we were in London only 2 days ago, so lets work backwards and talk about London first.....

We saw and did many touristy things... the National Gallery, Buckingham Palace, Harrods, The Tower Bridge, St. Paul's Cathedral... but I think our fondest memory, when we look back on this trip, will be the fun we had exploring and just being together.  Running through the rain to the safety of a coffee shop, drinking a beer or two at a Pub and laughing more than usual afterwards on the way to Buckingham Palace, and even fussing at eachother about nothing when we were tired, hungery or needed to pee.

If you ever go to London, DON'T spend money on "Churchill's War Experience." Our first clue should have been that it was not listed as one of the 50 things to see on the bus route. It smelled bad and was more like a haunted house than anything else. So cheesy.


I think Buckingham Palace was Chris' favorite, I'm not sure.  But for me, it was a big deal to buy tea from Harrods. 

I'm hard pressed to decide which I liked better: the National Gallery, or getting my very own Paddington Bear from Paddington Station.  I'll talk about the National Gallery in a separate post, but here is Paddington Bear...