Thursday, May 27, 2010
Did you know that Switzerland celebrates the Ascension of Christ as a formal holiday? Pentecost is also a national holiday. Everyone gets the day off of work. This is a hold over from the days when everyone in Geneva was expected to be a Christian or they kicked you out, back in the Middle Ages.
Chris had a four day weekend two weekends in a row! First, Ascension and then Pentecost.
With or without Christian holidays, Europe knows how to take vacation days.
Monday, May 24th, Pentecost, was an idyllic day. When it's sunny in Geneva, the parks and every grassy little spot in the city fill up with families on blankets with a picnic, singles with a book or chatting with friends, games of soccer or Frisbee. Chris and I took Bear to the Eaux Vives park, three blocks away. We tied him to his stake, spread our own blanket and played our favorite board game for several hours. This outdoor girl was in heaven.
After a while we collected our things, dropped Bear off at the apartment and went roller blading.
We quickly abandoned the roller blades for our bikes due to sore muscles and bumpy asphalt. We biked quite a distance around both sides of the lake. Halfway through the day we stopped for Gelato and were met with another Geneva surprise. Every Gelato place had a line outside the shop. A ten minute wait at one place and a twenty minute wait at the other shop. We opted for the ten minute wait.
The day was so beautiful and charmed, I didn't want it to end. I didn't become depressed at the end of it, but only because I'm getting the impression there will be many more days like this in Geneva.
Six days ago our stuff finally made it across the high seas and was delivered in tact, in through our window. What efficiency. It's common in Geneva to use a lift to hoist the boxes and furniture up and through a window or balcony door. This is because of the many buildings without elevators and even in the buildings with elevators, the elevators are much too small to fit furniture. Besides, it saves the workman a major ache and pain.
After all the boxes were hoisted and placed in rooms, a friendly man from Italy helped me unpack my kitchen. Two other men helped Chris unpack the remaining rooms. What service! They weren't joking when they said this company was "door to door" service.
I have the photos you requested. I took pictures of every room before the shipment arrived. This way you can see a clean slate. Boxes are now cluttering the scene. I'll take more photos later when every room is finished and cute as a button.
Our apartment building from the outside. We are the top floor balcony.
Our front door!
You've stepped through the front door and are looking down the hallway. I must warn you... the walls are going to be very bare and very white. That will be remedied soon enough.
When you step through the front door, you see our only bathroom on the left. This room has everything except a toilet. The toilet has it's very own room at the other end of the apartment!
If you walk into the bathroom, this sink is hiding around the corner of the shower curtain.
Such a dreadful picture, but I had to show you the strangest thing that is common in Geneva. The shower heads are placed in the middle of the tub instead of at the end of the tub. It's the most awkward thing to stand with the curtain in your face and the spray hitting the curtain. What are they thinking? Chris is even more uncomfortable because the shower head is too low for his 6' 2" height. I take a lot of baths. The tub is a decent size.
Leaving the bathroom and heading down the hallway.
The toilet has it's very own room at the end of the hallway. Notice the flushing system on the wall, different than anything I've seen in the U.S.
Backing up and entering the first room on the left... the guest room. Empty at this time except for my easle. Notice the hot water heater behind the easle. Every room has one.
Our Master Bedroom on the right side of the hallway. Fortunately, while we waited 2 months for our stuff, the apartment came with a bed and dresser. We also got on the train and took a trip to IKEA.
If you step into the room and turn around you'll see a built in closet. There are 4 of these in the entire apartment. It's not much closet space by U.S. standards but it's far more than most Genevans have. We have the old building to thank for this.
On the other side of our bedroom door... I'm not sure what the purpose of this is, or what it's covering. But it's pretty.
Walking across the hall to the kitchen. Again, this table came with the apartment.
Left wall of kitchen. We don't have a dishwasher, oven, or dryer. It's actually common in Geneva to have a dishwasher and oven, this apartment just didn't come with it. If we stay in this apartment, we'll probably buy those things, along with a dryer that will stack on top of that washer.
I don't mind doing dishes by hand, but look at the arrangement. It's awkward. Where do the dirty dishes stack? And where do the wet dishes get put to dry?
The dirty dishes are still awkward on the drain board up top. I can't let them stack for long. The clean dishes are in the photo below, on the floor. I realize it's a small complaint, but it's once you've HAD a dishwasher, if you see what I mean. =)
Turning around in the kitchen to head back out, you finally see the refridgerator. This is a small fridge by U.S. standards, but ENORMOUS by Geneva standards. We have many friends with waist high fridges and no freezer. We are very happy to have a freezer. To be honest, our habits have changed and now this fridge/freezer seems large. We never fill it like we would have in the U.S. Food prices here are high. We only buy what we are going to quickly and thoroughly consume.
Walking back across the hall to the livingroom. Most of you saw this photo in the previous post.
Last, but not least, we step out on the balcony, looking to the right, down the road to Lake Geneva.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Four weeks have passed since I returned, disheveled, from the Middle East. I’ve settled back into my previous routine in Geneva and am loving every minute of it. There is a time and a season for everything and I’m content that this is my time to be home… home meaning “with my husband.” After moving so many times I have very little concept of “home” being a place, except maybe Virginia, the land of my birth. Our time in Geneva is an interesting thing, however. We don’t intend to stay here forever, maybe only a few years, and yet, I feel a sense of belonging here for however long it lasts, more than any other place I’ve lived as an adult. It’s an amazing feeling… to belong.
As I write this, I’m snuggled up under my covers. It’s chilly outside and I've opened the windows to air out the apartment. We’re on the fourth floor, but with windows open I can hear the sounds of the city. Workmen just below me, laying a new sidewalk, clanging and banging away, cars picking up speed and fading into the distance, buses, motorcycles (so many motorcycles!) and sirens. Of course sirens. What would a city be without sirens? I’ve actually come to love the sounds of the city. It makes me feel connected, a part of something larger than myself, something that doesn’t need my help to keep running when I run out of steam.
I don’t, however, love it when the guys in the next apartment keep us awake at night, talking loudly on the phone. They run a call center of some kind over there. Slowly but surely I’m learning to tune them out.
I also don’t love it when I’m walking up four flights (90 stairs!) to reach our beautiful apartment. It’s an old building with no elevator. In the beginning I found myself uttering MANY bad words every time I huffed and puffed my way to the top. I’m getting more in shape with every step and getting used to it. The bad words have gone. Hatred has turned to mere dislike.
Overall I do love our apartment in this old building with 12 foot high ceilings, crown molding and plenty of natural light. At some point I will want a house again, with a yard and a garden, but in the meantime I’m content with my window boxes. Doesn’t every woman dream it would be lovely to plant window boxes in Europe? Well, I’m doing it! I have boxes for every window of the house and a few for the balcony. Gladiolas and Red Lilies are growing from bulbs, tomatoes and basil growing from seeds.
Take a look at my tomato plants, still quite fragile. I’ll keep them indoors most of the time until they get stronger and I’ll take picture again for you when it all blooms. It’s just getting started.
Here’s Bear, soaking up the sun in our empty living room. Aren’t those double doors splendid? If you walk out those two sets of double doors onto the ever so narrow balcony and look to the right, you’ll be looking down a hallway of buildings and in the distance, two blocks away, you’ll see Lake Geneva, the lake with the swans and the fountain jet. You can’t see the swans from the balcony, but it’s nice to know they are there and we’re so close.
I haven’t showed you the famous Jet d’eau yet. Here it is!
Spring came to Geneva while I was in Lebanon. Remember this tree I showed you back in December?
Leaves are, indeed, more flattering to its figure.
A statue from my beloved Eaux Vives Park, just 4 blocks away.
All sense of “belonging” aside, I must admit, the last month, since returning from Lebanon, has brought a bit of “homesickness” for the U.S. and family. Getting internet and phone set up at the new apartment has been slow in coming and I’ve been forced to face how far away I really am and experience a bit of the isolation that settlers felt when they moved to a new country before we invented phone and internet. I don’t think I would agree to a move like this if it weren’t for phone and internet. I’m not a settler. I’m not fleeing my country, I don’t FULLY belong in Europe and I don’t need adventure bad enough to leave my family without regular contact. Thank God for these modern conveniences which allow us to travel farther and see new places. Thank God my phone is finally working.
Two more days and our shipment of belongings will finally arrive from the U.S. After 4 months without our stuff, it’s going to be like Christmas morning, unpacking everything. Oh, to bounce and sit on my comfy yellow couch!............
Every once in a while I sit in a cafe, looking out the window and watch sunlight caressing a person sipping coffee on the other side, and I'm temporarily swept away by the romance of it all. But then again, I've had these moments in America too. The romance of life is everywhere. I guess there's just something about the spirit of Europe that makes us pause more often and notice the daffodils. I just hope I can carry this spirit with me when I return.
Monday, May 3, 2010
It feels good writing to you again. It’s been a long time.
We’re in the new apartment, but more importantly, I spent two weeks in Lebanon and got stuck for 4 extra days because of the ash cloud. You all know about the ash cloud, I presume? More about that later…
I’m home safe and there’s so much to tell you, I don’t know where to begin. I’ve been holding off writing to you because I don’t know what to tell you. I’m scared I can’t capture the last month for you on paper, in mere words and pictures. After a week of procrastination I’m finally sitting down in faith, trusting the words will come.
I went to Lebanon with a group of six people, brought together by a relief organization based here in Geneva. The primary purpose of our trip to Lebanon was to observe the relief efforts already happening by native Lebanese and see how we can assist, both while we were there for 9 days as well as form an ongoing, long distance relationship in the future. The relief efforts are various. Among many projects, the Christians in Lebanon are distributing food and clothing to war refugees and seekers of religious asylum, praying with these people, encouraging them, attempting to bring a smile.
They also distribute clothing to gypsy camps. My favorite photo came from one of these camps. I’m touched by the way this brother cares for his little sister.
Brother and baby sister is my favorite photo of the trip.
My favorite “moment,” was at the end of a house visit. We took a box of food to a house full of Iraqi refugees. We visited, played with the children, drank strong Arabic coffee and listened to the adults tell us their escape story. Towards the end of the visit the oldest woman of the group, perhaps in her fifties, was in tears as she spoke of her son. I can’t remember whether the son was missing or in jail or what, but he was a victim of the war. That much I gathered from the translator. All I know is that my heart went out to her. The leader of our group suggested we pray before we leave. We all stood up and I went over to her to hold her hand while we prayed. This prompted our leader to suggest we all join hands in prayer. Realize this… we were with a family of dedicated, practicing Muslims. The woman I held hands with was in a full hijab head dress. I don’t know about you, but I never expected that a Muslim would be willing to pray with a Christian. Especially not the men. But they did. We stood there and my French/British friend prayed for the group. He prayed in English and a child snickered (unused to prayer in another language) and was swiftly and quietly reprimanded by his mother, who told him to show respect.
My cultural assumptions were cast aside right and left.
The following two photos are of us shopping and preparing the food boxes for house visits.
I went to Lebanon with several head scarves in my luggage expecting to wear them every day. As it turns out, Lebanon has quite a bit of religious freedom compared to surrounding countries in the Middle East. The only time we needed to wear a head scarf was when we entered a mosque as a tourist.
We had time for several educational and tourist-y things.
On a Sunday, we toured the great Cedars of Lebanon, noted in Isaiah and Amos for their strength and height.
Overall the trip was unforgettable, a spectacular experience, a true adventure and success. But I wouldn’t be in keeping with the spirit of this blog if I didn’t share with you my less than glorious moments.
Please meet the Lebanese Rooster…
These roosters are EVERYWHERE. And they make their rooster calls ALL DAY LONG and ALL NIGHT!!! We’re not just talking about one mentally disabled bird, we’re talking about a country FULL of them. I’m thinking they take shifts so they can take turns sleeping. They are in the city as well as the country. During the first part of the trip we were in a small village in the country. We were inconvenienced, but not completely surprised by the presence of roosters out there. Fortunately, some of us had earplugs and wore them to get a decent night’s sleep. Nonetheless, all of us would have been thrilled to kill one of those roosters if we could have justified it.
I’m thankful for God’s mercy when we are weak. I used to think that the children of Israel complaining about eating the same food (manna) for 40 days in a row was a pathetic story full of people of miserable character. I regret to admit that after eating pita, parsley and hummus for 7 days, I was very tired of it and was looking for every opportunity to have ANYTHING other than these ingredients. It didn’t matter to me what kind of food, just something different. At the start of the trip I was eager to experience Lebanese food and it was, indeed, delicious. But any delicious thing, after repeating it morning, noon and night becomes more difficult to appreciate. Perhaps I’m a spoiled, pathetic and ungrateful person. And perhaps I should have more compassion for the wandering children of Israel.
On the other hand, Richard and I never tired of this little fruit, pictured below. We pulled it directly off the trees and ate it everywhere we went. We asked as many people as possible, but never learned the English translation for its name. We suspect there is no translation because we don’t think this fruit exists anywhere else. It’s like a very large version of a yellow cherry, but different. Tangy and sweet.
Finally, we must speak of the ash cloud.
I suppose everyone has heard of the Volcano that irrupted in Iceland and shut down all airports in Europe. We were unable to fly to Geneva on the scheduled day and had to wait indefinitely. Those were the longest and most difficult days of the trip. At the beginning of the trip I was advised to go with an attitude of flexibility. I figured I was pro at flexibility. My flexibility was not truly tested even once during the first 9 days we were in Lebanon, during the time we were “supposed” to be there. Each day I had no clue what the agenda was, but I was along for the ride and a happy, adventuresome camper. It was at the end of the trip, when I was tired and ready to go home that my flexibility was tested. When I learned that the airports were closed and we didn’t know when we could return, I went back to my room and cried my eyes out. I wanted to go home to see my husband and I wanted to go now. It was a claustrophobic feeling to be stuck in the Middle East. It’s not like being stuck in the U.S. or even in Europe where you can rent a car and simply drive home. Driving through certain Middle Eastern countries is not an option.
After 4 days our travel agent found us a flight to Rome, which opened before Geneva. We flew to Rome, spent a night there and took a train to Geneva the next day. In the end, it was a little gift from God. Rome was magical and the train ride from Rome to Geneva is surreal. The Alps surround Geneva and I see them all the time, but the most beautiful view of the Alps I’ve seen yet swept past us at 300 kilometers per hour through northern Italy. I can’t wait to go back with Chris.
By far, the most treasured thing I will take away with me from this trip is the friendships that formed between us travelers.
During the first part of the trip we were in an empty house in a country village, sleeping on mattresses on the floor. We didn’t have hot water and we were truly roughing it together. During the second part of the trip, we were given separate rooms and our own hot showers at a Catholic Convent/Retreat Center. It was good timing. We were tired and these creature comforts were welcome. But we didn’t readily welcome being separated into private rooms with locks. How can I describe to you the bond that forms between friends, way outside their comfort zone, on a journey of discovery together? How can I describe the laughter and the joy? I can’t. It’s something you just have to experience for yourself.
There is so much more I could say about my time in Lebanon. Perhaps you have questions and this will give me an idea of where to go with my next blog post.
One last thing before I go….. We made a new friend in Lebanon. He was our tour guide the first 4 days. He showed us the cedars and the refugee homes. He said a very dear thing to me. He said, “Kara, I see your family in your face.”
I’ve never heard anyone say such an odd thing, but I told him those words mean a lot to me. I live much farther away from my family than I prefer and it means a lot to know that they are somehow with me in spirit.
My father took a trip to several foreign countries in 1988. I was 10. He was gone 2 months and came back with many stories which stayed with me for a lifetime. I know his trip and his experience played a part in my inspiration to go to Lebanon.
Please pray for the ongoing work in Lebanon. Pray for the believers who live there day in and day out, year after year, and are present and faithful even when conflicts and wars break out. We were there during a time of relative peace. But Lebanon has a long and recent history of conflicts.
Pray for the refugees who are in Lebanon right now, seeking refuge from many corners of the Middle East.
Pray for me as I launch a project to raise money for Lebanon. Inshallah, (God willing) I will paint the more beautiful aspects of Lebanon (poppies and waterfalls) and sell these paintings to raise money for refugees and others in need.
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