Bern-fail.

Friday evening we made the just under 2 hour train ride to Bern to meet up with some other people who had gone up earlier. The three of us from Yens finally arrived and tried to reach the others but quite quickly found out that no one had cell reception. This would have been fine as we could have asked directions to the hostel but the problem was, they don't speak French in Bern...just German. Yikes. After deciding to take a walk to see what we could find in the mean time and running into 2 marching bands dressed in the most ridiculous costumes, we stumbled upon what was sure to be the start of Carnival. Bern is a pretty magical city. Take the shopping and scaffolding of New York crossed with the quintessential European charm of, well, anywhere in Europe and add lots of dogs walking around everywhere, and that's Bern-home of the famous bear pits and Albert Einstein. I didn't quite make it to these parts, but more to come on that later...

We finally met up with the others and made it to the hostel. 10x nicer than the one we stayed at in Geneva-sinks in the rooms and comforters with ants on them (the pattern, not the real thing...) We got dinner at this Asian restaurant across the street and could hear the drums and music from the windows. It was going to be a great night. After dinner, we wandered into the streets and I felt like it was halloween but better. The costumes people were wearing were phenomenal, the streets were lined with tents selling food from every part of the world, and every 100 yards there was a stand where bands that were parading down the street through the crowds would stop and play.

And then the night went down hill. We got back to the hostel between 1:30 and 2 am and then I decided to get violently ill for the rest of the night and into the early afternoon of the next day. There has been talk that some virus has been going around our program, but of COURSE it had to happen to me then. Typical. I was exhausted from having nothing to eat or drink, but problem was, when I tried, I couldn't keep anything down. The others were staying until 4 and taking a train home that evening, so I was going to try to rally cause I didn't want to travel by myself (or miss the home of Einstein!) but the second I finally managed to get up and outside, I knew it was most certainly not going to happen. After sitting on a bench outside while the rest of the group went to eat breakfast and being asked something in rapid German that I was at a loss of words to respond to, I informed everyone that I had to leave, got on a train, somehow managed to make the right connection to the other 2 trains, and made it home around 1:30 that afternoon...at which point I passed out and didn't wake up (save for a few interruptions from my host mother trying to shove black tea with honey and chocolate pudding...juuuust what I wanted...down my throat) until about 8:45 the next morning. FAIL.

We're off to Paris tomorrow for the week and from there, a few of us are going to Barcelona. Fingers crossed that everything works out-yesterday I got an email from EasyJet kindly informing us that our Paris-Barcelona flight had been cancelled due to and "all out airline strike in France." We managed to switch to another one, but no guarantees...

Also, Earl Falsity #12: You don't tip in restaurants.

Apparently while the 15-20 % isn't customary, it's appropriate to leave 1 or 2 francs, just to show appreciation for the service. I'm sure this was a big help to the American stereotype for the first few weeks we were here...

initiated: 12-5

After spending day 1 of the winter olympics at the International Olympics Museum (because apparently the international headquarters of the olympics are in Lausanne??-I'm beginning to lose track of "international headquarters" here), we found a pizza place with a pizza on the menu called the "Lady Gaga". Obviously we had to go. We split a 'family sized' pizza among the 4 of us for 50 CHF in total. Switzerland is a funny country. at most restaurants, beer is cheaper than coke, or at least the same price, but a pizza that would be no more than $20 in the US costs near $50.

After, we met another student with her host brother who just HAD to take us to club Mica that night. Lausanne has a huge university so it's know for its nightlife. Clubs aren't really my "scene," if you will, but we figured its the experience everyone needs to have at least once whilst in Europe. So around 12:30 am we ventured to Mica, waited in line (wearing jeans and coats, we looked a little out of place compared to the other girls we saw. I just don't get it, it was at MOST 20 degrees out.), paid 15 CHF cover (but with a free drink ticket (worth it??...as a beer cost you 10 CHF anyhow) and entered the abyss of strobe lights and fog machines. The host brother, a 19 year old equivalent of a high school senior, was CRAZY, and somehow, everyone in the club knew every word to ever generic American pop song, yet they didn't speak a word of english. We meant to leave for the 2:10 train home but since we didn't get in till after 1:00 and paid the cover, we figured it wasn't worth it. Earl, among others, speak of the 12-5 crowd: trains stop running around 1 or 2 and don't start up again until 5, so most 'normal' young kids stay out until 5 am and catch the first train home...By this point, we decided to do as the locals do and experience the life of a 12-5er. Exhausting and yet another affirmation that deep down, I'm really an 80 year-old grandma. We caught the first train home, a cab (for $40 total-6 people) to Yens, and an unusually long walk up to our beacon on the hill. Longest and most entertaining night thus far.

ski fail.

Earl falsity # 892345: Skiing is just like ice skating.

Today, I hit the slopes for the first time ever. I figured that since I'd never been skiing, what better place to learn than on the Swiss Alps, right? While the snow here might have been the 'perfect powder' that everyone talks about in a landscape surrounded but snow covered pines and ski lodges, it's also important to consider the other side of this picture: skiing is not vacation, it's what you DO here. Actually, I'm pretty sure most of the Swiss population was skiing before they could walk. For those of you who know me well (or even for those of you who don't, I'm sure it's still pretty evident), I'm a huge klutz. So I'm sure you can picture it-little old 5'10'' me, flailing about, trying to slide on my backside rather than fullon somersault down the slope as I'm being owned by 2 year olds zooming by. The funny thing I learned about skiing is that most of the movements are actually exactly like skating. Problem is, when you start to lose your balance, you try to move your feet to compensate but then realize there are giant 4 foot poles strapped to your 3 pound plastic boots. Not like skating. So whether the skis get crossed or you start sliding off (backwards or forwards, just depended on my mood at that moment) uncontrollably down the slope, my best option was usually to throw myself to the ground in hopes of avoiding running over small children or becoming a tree hugger in the most literal of senses. I actually managed to make it down the so-called bunny slope (either the Swiss have very different definitions of bunny's capabilities or it was most certainly NOT a bunny slope) from the very top twice, and I had even learned how to stop by the second time! The rest of the afternoon was spent learning how to turn, snowplow, pizza, stop (eventually), and whatever else it is you do on skis. Luckily, I went with the British family from across the street, so my impromptu instruction was not in French, although at that point, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have made much difference. All in all, I think the afternoon was a grand success. Perhaps after a few more tries, I'll be able to compete with my fellow 3 year old debutants.

Home Alone, Switzerland style

After dropping me off in Yens on Sunday night, my host mom took Helene over to her boyfriend's house to spend the night (at 14, how would you have felt about this mom!?) and then the family ventured back up to Leysin since the kids are out of school this week. That means...I'm home alone this ENTIRE week. In a big giant house thats always dark since the lights are all on motion sensors. To keep me company, 2 of the other Yens students slept over on Wednesday night which was an experience, to say the least (instead of the multitude of blankets my host mother claimed to have in the armoire, all we came across were 2 talblecloths and a hammock). The mom left me a premade dinner on the stove to heat up on monday and organized for me to eat with each of the other host families living in Yens for the 3 other nights. Dinner at Lauren's was pushed to last night because we had the most magical dinner experience at La Croix Verte in Nyon on Tuesday in conjunction with our meeting with our homestay coordinator, Anne-Claude. After telling her that I was relatively happy with my family but the commute was extremely inconvenient (ie, 25 minute walk to the train station, trains that run almost 2 hours apart, sub-zero temps...), poor little Anne-Claude had a revelation and said, in her best efforts of English, "hm, maybe it's not the best idea to put students in those homes in the winter months..." You think this would have been something she figured out a few years ago???

On that note of cold temperatures, yesterday was the coldest day of the winter, with a recorded high of -9 celsius, that's about 16 fahrenheit. And it's been snowing for over half the day everyday. I finally learned to ski...I went skiing down my driveway on my smooth-soled boots in efforts to get to the front door. Luckily the back bumper of the car was there to stop me since I haven't learned the snowplow stop yet. But in all seriousness, I ate dinner with Lauren's family (British dad, German mom, english speaking, adorable children, HILARIOUS), and they are going skiing on Sunday and actually WANT to teach me. They said it's silly to not know how to ski when in Switzerland for 4 months. Guess this means I finally get to find out what 'pizza and french fries' means...for all you skiing gurus.

Tuesday, we went to the palliative care hospital in rural Geneva. It was interesting, but I still haven't quite come to a conclusion as to how one can occupy their entire life with helping people prepare for death... I definitely have a newfound respect for the practice and the practitioners. Wednesday we went to the International Committee of the Red Cross, which I think has been by far the most memorable academic experience on the trip so far. We heard a presentation from one of the delegates, and got a guided tour of the museum. It was pretty amazing to gear first-hand form people that can do so much but work for an organization that is completely independent, neutral, and and impartial. They go to war zones and conflict areas and help (medically, psychologically, supplies, etc.) everyone-regardless of sides, beliefs, governments, anything. The museum was really well done, and even the cafeteria was phenomenal (which, fellow students can attest to, is a BIG deal). Thursday we went to the International Union for the Conservation of Nature. I wasn't really looking forward to it, but it actually turned out to be quite interesting. Turns out this was the organization that founded the WWF and coined the term 'sustainable development.' Guess it helps for a place like that to be headquartered in Geneva-they sure do love their water...

Class with Earl this morning was, well, the usual. Filled with round about and uncomfortably worded questions and LOTS of small-group discussions. But we got out at 12:30 and walked around the old city to stumble upon a beautiful Russian Orthodox church and the Museum of the History of Geneva. Tonight is Hiver-Nales...the 'rock and beats festival,' should be quite the experience. Then for tomorrow, what could be better at this time than to be a train stop away from the IOC's headquarters and the Olympic museum in Lausanne?!

Also, as promised-Earl Falsity #67: If you don't wat something, just say so.

The being that is Earl can be quite contradictory at times. The dinner on Tuesday night was paid for by the program, so we were allowed to order anything we wanted. Many of us ordered pizzas (oddly popular in Switzerland) thinking that they'd be about the same size as those at the other restaurants we've been to here. FALSE. They were HUGE! When someone made a comment about being excited for leftovers, Earl quickly reprimanded us all and informed us that is is extremely rude in Swiss culture to a) refuse food and b) not clear your plate. The ENTIRE thing. You are expected to be able to finish what you order...I don't think I've ever been so full in my whole entire life.

alpine adventure

This weekend, I'm pretty sure I died and went to heaven. I've always been one for winter, snow, and all things cold, but this weekend took my love to a whole new level. My host family has a 'petit chalet' in Leysin, a town in the Alps about an hour outside of Geneva that's apparently pretty well known for skiing (and apparently has a world-renowned hotel school?). Despite my jealousy in that DC is getting pounded with tons of snow right now, I can't be too sad as the snow was up to my waist in Leysin, not to mention I was higher than some planes fly surrounded by picturesque ski cabins and evergreens.

Saturday morning came with a breakfast of pain au chocolate (chocolate croissants) and a magic potion called Multifruit-a vitamin supplement drink that tastes like a mixture of Fanta and orange juice but better. Inexplicable. They told me that I was going to get to try skiing, but I'm pretty sure I would have been quite the burden having never been before (it's amazing how early they start here, I swear there were 3 year olds on the lifts...). We went on a super long walk with Igor across the snow covered field and back up through the village, and thank god for my freakishly small feet because my leather boots just wouldn't have cut it for this. You could definitely tell that I could probably count on my fingers the number of times I've actually seen snow. I borrowed the 12 year old son's snow boots (which were still too big) and off we went. The snow was as tall as the dog in most places, but everything was absolutely magnificent. Leysin is the exact thing I thought of when I imagined a ski village, and I'm pretty sure I seemed happier than a kid in a candy store-I had a constant urge to make a snow angel, but I refrained.

That night presented hot dog soup, round 2. And it was a grand success. But that was probably due, in part, to my host mom offering me (and only me) a knife and fork before eating. After dinner, we went off (with Igor, of course) to the ice skating rink to do what I thought would be some very uncomfortable skating in a pair of rental skates (weird). Much to my amusement, I heard the hum of GO CARTS when we walked into the rink and my eyes were opened to the world of ice karting...go carts combined with ice rinks has to be the greatest invention of all time. And to top it all off, we finished the evening with hot chocolate in an IGLOO fondue house. Although I felt pretty sorry for the old ladies who worked there-they looked miserable, but then again, who'd want to say that their job was to run around hoping not to slip serving things to people in a hut made of ice that smells like cheese.

This afternoon, Francois, a son from my host mother's first marriage, came over with his wife and twin 4 year-olds for lunch. They were the cutest kid's I've ever seen and it didn't help that they spoke, whined, and laughed, all in French. After a huge lunch of ham, pasta, salad, bread, bread, and bread, we set off (twins on sleds in tow) for the tobogganing courses (Igor leading the way). I wasn't too sure what to expect, since my host mom explained it to me as bobsledding but I was pretty sure that's not what we'd be doing. But when we got there it was the winter equivalent of a water park. Intertubes and slides, but imagine ice and snow rather than water and sun. The slides corresponded to the levels of difficulty with skiing, with blue being for losers and black being the scariest. When I finally convinced my host sister to come to the black slides with me, I tried (but evidently failed) to ask the guy working what the difference between the two seemingly identical tracks was. He rambled off something in very rapid French and just smiled, but when I looked at Helene for enlightenment, she just laughed and told me he could tell I wasn't French. After toboganning for a while, we (Igor included) took the 'telecabines,' i.e. cable cars, to the base of the mountain where there was a revolving restaurant with amazing views of the village below and the slopes/ski lifts. The mountains are a magical landscape. One minute it will be bright and sunny with clear views of everything, and the next minute you can't see your hand in front of you. When we got to the top of the lift, it was -7 degrees C with whipping winds and 0 visibility, but when we left it was perfect. I really want to learn how to ski-simply to add to my repertoire/obsession with winter sports. I've been told they will teach me next month...

Another view...from a UN perspective

At the UN








Earl so gracefully glides ahead of the rest of us...how DOES he do it??

my adventures in food.

There is definitely truth in stereotypes. The Swiss really do love their cheese. Counting, I have had cheese in some way, shape, or form for every lunch and dinner but 1 since my arrival. But along with the abundance of cheese, everyone knows that the Swiss are known for their chocolate. As I left for the train this morning, my host mom gave me three things: an entire Lindt chocolate bar, a Swiss army knife (because the blade on it will help cut my bread, in case of emergency), and a spoon. Not entirely sure what the purpose of the last one is, but it's always good to be prepared for the unexpected, so clearly all three were necessary.

Our train got into Gare Cornavin 25 minutes before the meeting time because the BAM from Yens only runs once an hour to get us to the train station at Morges to get (eventually) to Geneva, and someone was yearning for a little taste of good ol' America, so we ventured in to the Starbucks next door...and promptly left after seeing that a venti caramel macchiato was 8.90 CHF. That's $9.00. I settled for a thermos to bring home made coffe in the mornings, of which there is ALWAYS a full pot at any given hour of the day. Magic.

We took the bus to the UN (yes, as in the international headquarters of the United Nations) and got through security (somehow, my army knife got through but Chip's regular kitchen knife didn't make the cut (baha, cut...not intentional). Why he had a kitchen knife in his bag remains a mystery) and got UN ID badges. We were a stellar looking bunch. After badging, we 'accompanied' Earl for a 'beverage' in the cafe-they really do love their coffee-and went upstairs for a tour of the reading rooms and library. It was absolutely astounding: over 2 million volumes with 45 kilometers of books in 10 floors of stacks. Just for the UN. And it's pretty cool because even though you can't check out a book, if you order a book on loan, you can reserve it for a month, along with a desk so for that entire month, the desk is yours, and the book will always be there.

After this excursion, my small FSS group of 4 made its way to the ILO (International Labour Organization) and met with the secretary of the ILO AIDS project who casually handed us Kofi Anan's business card as a possible contact-only to say, "oh, my mistake, that's Kofi, you want Jo."

Aaaaaanyway, back to the title, food. Dinner, failure of the day. We made the trek up the hill from the BAM (it's now earned the name 'damn BAM') and I was starving. My host mom is an amazing cook, so the anticipation of dinner every night is always a highlight of my day. Tonight, it was soup avec des legumes. Great, vegetable soup, perfect for a cold evening. False. It resembled a cream of broccoli esque soup with a little something extra-hot dogs. Actually, they were vienna sausages, but it looked like hot dogs floating in the pot. My host father filled my bowl and added a sausage. Bon Appetit. The soup was actually really great, but I foresaw a serious problem. There was only a spoon on the table (guess I should have brought out the army knife?) But apparently it wasn't necessary. I have learned to do as the family does at meal time, and this time they were just picking up the sausages out of the soup and eating them with their hands. So, much as I did when I learned that the napkins on the table were there not for the normal purpose of napkins but rather to tempt us, teach us not to eat like slobs, look pretty, I haven't quite worked it out yet-you just don't use them, I followed suit and pick up the sausage. Problem was, it was covered in soup and quite slippery...I think you can guess what happened next. Plop went the sausage into the soup and plop went the soup on to the table. And on to my sweater. Worst part was, I could hardly figure out how to say what happened in French to try and explain a) what actually happened b) the fact that I am a klutz in life and c) it's a terrible idea to not use knives at the table. Especially when your country is known for them. Also, on the plate of cheese that accompanies most meals, there were sticks of meat that were explained to me to be a specialty of Switzerland but were most definitely Slim Jims. I kept my mouth shut.

Other than tonight, dinner chez Andre is delightful. Lunch usually happens in Nyon where we go to Migros, the local supermarket/superstore (actually a really cool concept the Swiss call social enterprise...0.5 % of the company's income must go back to the community in some way, i.e. the name of the facilities where our French classes are held is L'ecole Club Migros) and buy a baguette (usually still warm), some type of deli meat, and of course, cheese. A sandwich ends up being about 5 CHF, which is a HUGE perk plus, it's what all the high school kids do, so of course we have to do as the cool kids.

Also, per the request and consensus of my peers, I'm going to try to post an Earl Falsity of the day...which shouldn't be too hard.

Earl Falsity #48789: People don't kiss in public. FALSE. Two ads I've seen pretty much don't advertise any product in particular (one was for a train and the other for a phone). They were just giant pictures of two people kissing. And I mean REALLY kissing. And getting off the tram today in Geneva, we saw two teens going at it at a level that would be considered inappropriate even for America. Dear Earl, I dunno if you just need to get out more (which, considering how much he references the midnight to 5 crowd-i.e. the teenagers, is most likely not the case), but people certainly express their affection with more than a bise...

view from the top

Old Town of Geneva

trucs

So yesterday, after speaking for all 3 hours of french class with the 3 other people in the "advanced" level as we try to comprehend Suzanne's...words of wisdom?? (today, we learned a French proverb: "if Cleopatra's nose wasn't so long, the world would be a different place."), I and the 3 others that live in Yens avec moi began the long trek home. Upon boarding the BAM train from Morges (Bière-Applès-Morges...the 3 towns connected by this petit commuter train unique to our commute), we entered our compartment only to find a party going on. 4 boys were sitting in the seats next to us with beer bottles in hand and a half-downed bottle of Jack on the table. They looked to be about 12.

By the time the BAM got to Yens, it was pitch dark and had been snowing for about 3 hours. It was also the coldest day on record in Geneva for this winter. The thermometer read somewhere in the range of -15 C. We knew we had a trek up the hill to our houses, but couldn't remember exactly how long, so we just began walking. After walking through the arctic tundra for about 15 minutes (pictures to come), we came to what we thought was our turn off the main road...and shortly thereafter realised we were terribly mistaken. It took a phonecall to la maison André (my host family) and a ride (once we found the way back to the street) from my host dad to find the way back to our houses and a hot cheese pie (literally a pie crust filled with cheese) waiting on the table. That's another thing-I don't think I've eaten so much cheese in my life. Ever. But I'm not complaining...too bad the gym membership's 500 CHF. Yikes.

After learning more and more about our director, Earl, I've decided to name a few very false statements he makes all too frequently-

Earl falsities numbers 4358, 235, and 15:

-People in Switzerland NEVER shake hands. Au contraire, it's quite a popular gesture, which makes the choice of la bise or the hand shake upon first greeting a tricky situation. It took a few us a while to get accustomed to what the 'bise' actually was...I shan't name names.
-The marshalls NEVER check your train passes. False. I've had mine checked every ride but one. Today, the man who smelled like beer and cigarettes and looked like Lord Voldemort sitting next to me got fined 80 CHF for not having a ticket.
-You'll almost never see a police officer on the streets. Today, I saw 4. They have fly neon uniforms.

This morning, before leaving my house to catch the train at 7:08 am (the Swiss are among the most punctual people I have ever met. Guess that explains the watches...), I got my moment of glory when I got to help Helene, the daughter, with her english paper. I read the whole thing and made grammar corrections but somehow I still managed to feel dumb because she's in her second year of English, and I in my eighth year of French am probably at a comparable grammar level, respectively.

Time for homemade pizza. And more cheese. À demain...