I Hear A Revival...

A lot's happening in my life these days. Moving to California in a few months. Just returned from a fantastic 10 day vacation to the UK and Italy. Much to report, many photos and stories to share. Stay tuned.

The End of An Era

Call it Spring Cleaning. Refer to it as sprucing up. Cherish the thoughts. Dispel the itch. For nearly two months my face has been bearded. I'd almost forgotten my looks sans scruff.

I think the 72 degree January day changed my mind. The beard shall return, though I will be smooth faced for a little while...

I leave you with a memory:

Until another time, Mountain Man.

Political Compass

It's been a long while. Way too long, in fact. Inexcusable and deplorable.

It's too late on a Friday to be at the office, but I wanted to share a link that provides an interesting political profile for you. Kudos to Mr. Lee for stimulating such thoughts, but I think that I may have found a more comprehensive, and perhaps less obvious, site with which to profile your political thoughts. Thanks to Mamado for this one.

http://www.politicalcompass.org/questionnaire

Wild and Wonderful

I just returned from a weekend of visiting my youngest brother at West Virginia Weslyan College in Buckhannon, WV. It was a quite a trek to get there: 267 miles to be exact. And let me tell you, I used to think Farmville was the middle of nowhere. Buckannon is a true Appalachian town surrounded by hollows [ers] and small mountains. Big mountains lurk in the not too far distance. Coal mines dot the landscape. McDonalds is considered haute cuisine by some.

The weekend weather fit well with my parents' name for the town: Sunny Buck. I'm being fecicious, of course, as the weather changes fast and swirling black clouds hide the sun in a few short minutes. I do not envy the poor students come winter. Fortunately, we had a short break in the precipitation, and we hiked around Audra State Park for an hour or so. Not a car in sight, no planes overhead and not a whiff of "enriched" air a la Northern Virginia and D.C. Wonderful.

While not feasting on the local country cooking we took in the campus sights and listened to both Karl and my parents recount their similar stories of college. Nothing like hearing good college tales to bolster the spirit and make you want to hop back on the post-collegiate educational bus.

To celebrate Family weekend and Karl's 19th, we went to a local joint named C.J. Maggies. The 22 oz beers ($3 mind you) were a delight, as were the more than generous servings. I guess the world outside of NoVa turns a bit differently. The weekend ended with more rain and a soggy drive home, but I'm already looking forward to my next Wild and Wonderful weekend...

A Day in the Juras: Givrine au Vaud [Part 4]

continued from earlier

With our snowshoes on, we tramped along on our new, fairly fresh trail. We saw a lot of tracks for deer, wild pigs, hares, and elk-like creatures on this path. Trails frequently paired off this main corridor, but we stayed a toute droite because the side trails all had markings advising us against using them.


We came to what we thought was a road, which is perhaps the case in the warmer months, and continued downhill. We came to a major four-way fork and had to make a critical decision. Neither of us wanted to spend much time walking in the dark, so we made a lot of consultations with the map and compass. We picked the center path, which led us past a military compound from WWII. Still slightly intimidated by it, we did not venture to explore it. There was something in our minds that said, “You may walk past, but don’t you dare try to go inside or explore too much.” Besides, we were tired and hungry and it was getting dark.

We finally arrived at a road, took off the snowshoes, and thought we were in the clear. We sat for five minutes and then pressed on. Less than 500 meters later, we were again sinking deep in the snow. In defiance of this deep snow, we trudged along for a good 15 minutes without our snowshoes. We then came to a real, plowed, road. It was now misty and cold as we descended through the clouds.



We reached a consensus and continued downhill on this road, figuring we must be close to civilization. Yes, we were, but not what we had expected. A little trailer park presented itself, and we awkwardly tiptoed by. It just didn’t look like the place we wanted to be. And the road continued downhill and we plodded along. It was about quarter to five and we both half-joked about walking in the dark. We were both thinking about how much we didn’t want to be out here in the dark, but this was silently understood and nothing serious was said. Sometimes, it’s best to leave these thoughts in one’s mind.

My feet were burning on the bottom. I felt like I was bruising them every step I took. While walking downhill sounds easy, it gets old quickly. You feel your knees creak and your toes jam against your boots. I envied Aaron’s sneakers at this point, which was strange because I felt bad for him earlier in the day. I’ve been in this situation before, but things are intensified by being in a completely unfamiliar place, not having the best of ideas of where you are, and knowing full well most people you run into up here don’t speak English. We were fine, just tired and famished.

Finally, we reached a little map by the side of the road explaining where exactly we were. We were on the outskirts of Bassions, and we deciphered the road we needed to return to Le Vaud, la rue du Vaud. How charmingly appropriate, we smirked. It was 5 pm and the clock was ticking. We assured ourselves with our own map, consulted the compass one last time, and then plodded into town.

The road was easy enough to find, and our spirits were surprisingly still intact, though fragile at best. La rue du Vaud did not have a sidewalk, and we were forced to trudge the one to two kilometers uphill while facing traffic. Aaron’s house was looming in the distance, slowly approaching. When we entered the town limits, we began to laugh a little more and discuss our evening plans. We walked into his house at 5:40 pm.

Aaron’s parents wanted to hear about our trip, and we briefly explained the day and hurried to get ready to return to Nyon. By just straight lines, we walked over 15 km. Not too shabby, considering a majority of it was on snow. The father graciously offered us some snacks which we ravenously accepted. We ate fresh sausage, cured wild boar, and dried beef with bread. Also present was a lot of peppercinees (sp?) and olives. All of this came from the Sunday market in Le Vaud. We learned a bit more about the area and the trail from the father, and he said he would take us to Nyon, since he was headed in that direction. We accepted his proposal and avoided taking the bus into town.

When we arrived, I realized I had missed the one train for the hour. I called home and left a message on the machine in broken French that I would be late. The regional trains, the only ones that stop in Mies, have abbreviated weekend schedules. So, I was stuck for the second time this week sitting on the platform for an hour. Luckily, Aaron had a similar dilemma, so we were able to chat and discuss the day’s activities, laughing about our sunburned faces. It had been a fairly remarkable Valentine’s day, but not at all in the traditional sense. We were content with our adventure and agreed wholeheartedly this had been the best experience we had had to this point while in Switzerland. Although I began the weekend with an admittedly pessimistic view, I will gladly admit our hike pulled me out of the doldrums I had fabricated for myself. Often the best things come when least expected. He and I were both satisfied with our epic day and it put a better perspective on the weekend for both of us.

I arrived in Mies at 8 pm and walked the dark path home alone. No one was home, which I to some extent expected, and I took a leisurely and much needed shower. I ate dinner while listening to the dryer beep every minute and a half (I don’t know how to make it stop making noise) and decided it was best if I recount my day while it was still fresh in my mind. Nicole and my “mother,” Marcela, are out for dinner and I have free roam of the kitchen. It’s been silent for the last three hours, and I admit I look forward to when someone will return.

Finished at 11:43 pm, February 14, 2004

A Day in the Juras: Givrine au Vaud [Part 3]

[Continued from earlier]
When we arrived at Le Vermeilley, we were in accord that it was time to eat, time to take a break from walking. The menu was, as expected, somewhat costly. Soup seemed the le moins cher option, so we both ordered soup (which came with bread) and a Boxer Biere, a local brew in petite bottle. It didn’t seem like much for 10chF a piece. The soup resembled gruel in consistency, and we both foolishly burned our tongues, one after another. The bread improved the soup greatly, and we wrangled another plate of bread for free. By the time we finished this potato-based creation and downed the beer, we were decently satiated. It was heavier than it first seemed, and we left content.

At this point in our walking we had grown more adventurous and the walkers’ trail had disappeared. It was time to make our own paths. We frolicked (literally, this is what you do in snowshoes while running downhill) around in the virgin powder, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. It’s quite a thrill to run around in two foot (or more) deep snow while only sinking an inch at most. By this point it was impossible to resist a photo shoot and we found a nice overlook complete with the French Alps, including Le Mont Blanc, in background. If you haven’t already, check out my photos on www.webshots.com. My username is: thekiwi33.

We wandered within sight of the trail for another two hours and were becoming a bit fatigued by all this walking. It’s not like walking on a firm trail; it’s much more energy consuming. After several adventurous wrong turns and humble retracing, we arrived at Les Plasets (spelling?). We sauntered in and ordered chocolat chaud, fully expecting hot chocolate the Swiss are famous for. Instead, the two young kids behind the counter gave us hot milk with ovaltine. This wasn’t exactly what we had in mind. By now it was 3:30, and we were becoming slightly concerned with getting to Le Vaud, a couple hundred meters lower in elevation and several kilometers away.

I walked over to two Swiss men and asked them in French if they could show us the way to Le Vaud. They kind of laughed, indicated they thought it was kind of a long way still, and preceded to explain our options. The first, which they seemed to prefer, entailed us cutting through the hills and valleys due east to a chalet, where we would find the trail we needed. This option meant we would go completely off trail and essentially bushwack with our compasses and a few random tracks. This didn’t exactly appeal to us, as the surrounding countryside took on a likeness with everything else we had seen all day.

Next, they explained with a map our other option to continue on the trail and find a right turn, which would descend to the valley. This seemed easy enough, and they chuckled and wished us the best of luck and a good day. We struck off to the north, sans raquettes, and searched for our trail. We broke out the map at turn that looked right, compared compass readings, and decided we were correct. As long as it went downhill, we had to be going in the right direction. I was personally glad that I have had some experience with compasses and maps while leading trips for W&L, and this left me reassured a bit. However, I was not completely sure or at ease with our situation. Darkness would be here by 6 pm, and although I had a light and matches, I was not at all enthralled with the idea of walking in the dark, damp, and cold. I knew in the back of my mind we could always retrace and stay the night at the chalet at Les Plasets. Still, this would have been another night of little sleep and likely little comfort. On the bright side, we were both glad to know some French in this situation, and we both agreed our past couple of years of French class have had an important purpose. It was clear that had we not known French, we would have been in a much more difficult situation.
[to be continued...]

French Club

In an effort to expand my cultural horizons, I've started a French club with a few of my francophile friends. This was all hatched after attending a Washington French Language Meeting and having a great time getting back in the linguistic swing of things. The first WFLM meeting was a success, despite my disappointing vocabulary performance. I was pleased, however, to be able to still comprehend a fair amount.

With a few other friends on board, we launched our first Rossylyn area French club meeting a couple of weeks ago. [We're still in need of a group name - suggestions encouraged] Wine, cheese, and chocolate have been an intergral part of our rendez-vous', and we've now thrown some French cinema into the mix.

We're looking for recruits, and we're particularly interested in folks who can take on the role of professeur. Someone with near fluency would be well compensated with French nourissment et vin. Drop me a line if you'd like to join.

A Day in the Juras: Givrine au Vaud [Part 2]

[Continued from earlier]

I arrived in Nyon by 8:30 and anxiously awaited Aaron while striving to stay warm. La Bise (the cold eastern wind) has been noticeable as of late. Interesting to note, la bise is also the term for the Suisse Romande and French greeting of simulated kisses on the cheek. Here in Suisse Romande, la Bise consists of three “kisses” starting on the left. It’s regarded as the polite and acceptable way to greet and take leave of people. My first opportunity to faire la bise was a major flop, as I was unsure of the rules of this greeting and failed to do it when it was necessary. I have since figured it out…

ANYWAY, back to the story. Aaron drags up around 8:45 and we find our bus to Le Vaud. Aaron spent Friday night in Nyon, as he lives a 30 minute bus ride away and he missed the bus home. He and I are in similar states, though I must admit I think he slept even less than I did. Sadly I had to purchase a bus ticket to Le Vaud (Aaron has one) and I was shocked when the conductor demanded 15chF for my round trip. So much for price efficient public transportation!! Nothing is inexpensive in Switzerland! We arrived in Le Vaud after a pleasant trip, and we walked the few minutes down hill to his house. Aaron’s family is originally Swiss German, so they speak an interesting mix of German, French, and English at home. With us, ils parlent just French unless it’s really important. They offered to take us to the train station where we can catch a train to Givrine, where we were to begin our hike.

The father gave us maps, gave us two pairs of snowshoes, explained everything in French, and at the last moment gave us a compass. We were psyched, totally confident in ourselves and in our understanding of the directions. Ha! The mother drove us to the station and we made small talk with her as we waited for the next train to Givrine. She explained the map again, told us how to pay for the train, and made us feel totally confident in ourselves. Mind you, this has been all in French, and we did our best to understand everything, but I’m sure we missed a lot.

The train arrived and we jumped on for the 20 minute ride to Givrine. We passed through the clouds to our stop at 1200 m (somewhere around 4000 feet). Much to our chagrin, while looking out the window at one of the stations, we saw Jonathon and Katherine, two other SIT students. Of all people, seeing Jonathon seemed appropriately funny and we laughed and exclaimed our surprise at seeing them. The train moved on and so did we. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was an impeccable blue, and the wind was nonexistent as we stepped out of the train to our “alpine paradise.” After map consultation and our ritual “embarrassment while speaking French,” we set off on le chemin pour pietons.

The snowshoes were superfluous at this point, but our excitement to be using them made us continue to wear them. The trail was groomed for the multitudes of walkers and skiers. For a lot of the time, us walkers had our own trail separate from the cross country skiers. The snowshoes remained a novelty until several kilometers later when we discovered the ease of walking on the packed snow sans raquettes.

During this first hour, and for a majority of the day, we experienced a sensory overload. Were we really in Switzerland? Were we really snowshoeing through the Jura Mountains a week and a half after we stepped off the plane? It was almost surreal at times. You have to experience this natural beauty to gain a true understanding of how we felt at the moment. Stupendous, spectacular, picturesque. The first restaurant we encountered was still too early for us to want to eat, even though it was 12:30. We must press on – we have a long walk!

to be continued...

Kiwi, why are you always talking about Switzerland?

I'll come out and say it: I love Switzerland. I fell in love with the country two years ago when I spent a semester living in a small town, Mies, outside of Geneva during a program with the School for International Training (SIT). The program was just shy of four months, but I consider it one of the best few months in my life. Unquestionably I learned more in those four months than I ever would've guessed. Many of the lessons and knowledge I gained still stick with me today.

I would not say that I had the "typical" study-abroad experience that many of my friends had. By typical, I mean being surrounded by Americans, living in an English-speaking country (e.g. U.K), drinking myself silly at pubs and not really integrating into the culture. Now, I will not go so far as to say Switzerland is worlds apart from the US, but there is the (multiple) language barrier to jump, as well as a general European culture to explore. You'd be surprised what changing languages and a few social practices will do to your experience.

I went into my program with the full intention of making the most of it. So cliché but so true. Truly getting to know my host family, meeting local kids my age, using my French, understanding Swiss culture and traveling the country were all at the top of my agenda. Luckily, I fell in with two great friends, Brandon and Aaron, who shared the same ambitions. The three of us had unforgettable experiences, learned a great deal about ourselves (especially how we react to challenges, both linguistically and culturally) and how to view life from outside of the general American vantage.

I do not wish to bore you with all the reasons why I love the country, but I will say that living in Switzerland has made me plan to live abroad again sometime (hopefully soon). Don't get me wrong - I am proud to be an American and appreciate all that we have - but I feel that the world has much to offer.

Now I've just got to figure out a way to make it work. Suggestions?