Since I was young, I’ve hated summarizing. On every English test we would have to do it. The space given was always five times smaller than I needed. I always ended up writing in a font so small, and cramming my words so close together that it was hardly legible. I knew the teachers wouldn’t like it, but while I soothed my hand cramp afterwards, I could look at my work and know id captured the story. Any tale that is wonderful enough to be shared should be done so in all of its gloriously detailed entirety. This is why I advise you to get your reading glasses, a comfy chair, and a snack in order to catch up the events of my past month. So that you can share in my experiences, and so that I will never forget them, here are the un-summarized versions events of my phenomenal and extraordinary past month. **Pictures to be added asap!
German Update
There are certain times when I feel so frustrated with the impossible grammar and endless rules, and ridiculously long German words that I just want to give up. I mean really, “fortpflenzungsgeschwindigkeit”…who wants to try to navigate their way through that word? Is it in my classroom and try so hard to concentrate and understand. I work my way through one complicated sentence, and comprehend, but when I go back to listening to the teachers, they're already miles ahead of me. I try to read a book, and by the time I’ve translated the words I don't understand, I’ve forgotten what the paragraph before it was about. As frustrating as it is sometimes, there are the breakthrough moments. The times when I’m walking around the house, and realize I’m casually talking to myself in German. When I see the newbie exchange students who go through daily life with a permanent deer-in-the-headlights look, and can see how far I’ve come. When I can write four page reports, demand essays on various topics, and presentations for school and Rotary. When I can be in a conversation, and not sitting beside it, watching it from an outsiders perspective. But the best, and most entertaining of all, my new habit of speaking what I’d describe as “Denglisch”. A horrible mix between the two languages that now comes surprisingly naturally to me.
Ps- An unbelievably big thank-you to Barbara who taught me an enormous portion of what I know and continues helping me learn this fabulous but challenging language weekly <3
A Special Visit
As we would play iPhone games, draw pictures, and pass notes in the back of Geography class, we would often talk about how amazing it would be for my friends to come and visit me. We made lists of the cool things to do in Midland in fall (not a very lengthy list) and began to plan an “imaginary” visit. Or that was how I looked at it. But the next day we were checking dates, and the one after that, flight connections. Within a few days and a few quick e-mails to home, Mirijam and Melina came to school holding a folded piece of paper. They gave it to me and I expected to be a note, or drawing, or something of that nature. Instead it was two sets of e-tickets. Air-Canada from Zurich to Toronto for two and a half weeks in Oct/Nov. I couldn’t believe it. I jumped and danced in chemistry and made a scene. Gotta love Swiss punctuality and planning abilities. I can’t wait to show them my life at home.
Fasnacht
“Fasnacht” is possibly the most difficult Swiss tradition to explain. It is the celebration before lent begins, where everyone goes crazy in order to make up for the next forty days of being good. There are the “Non-Fastnachters” who avoid the confetti covered streets and deafening music at all costs. On the other hand, are the “Fastnachters”. The go hard, dress up, drink lots, be loud, hit the Fasnacht in every city possible kind of people. These are the ones who say that there are truthfully five seasons per year: Spring, summer, fall, winter, and Fasnacht of course. I would say that I am somewhere in the middle of these two groups, after experiencing Fasnacht in three different cities.
Fasnacht Thun: A totally non-famous Fasnacht that I attended with two of my exchange friends and had the best time. It was raining, cold, windy, and disgusting. The confetti formed a rainbow mush that thickly coated the streets. Music blasted, people dressed up like Halloween, men wore dresses to play in the bands, and people emptied their bottles like there was no tomorrow. It was one big party of people dancing from one band to the next. The only things that I could say were “hilarious….and weird.”
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| Marching Band |
Fasnacht Würenlingen: On the last Sunday of my sport holidays (the one that comes between the Christmas holidays and spring holidays for those not accustomed to the wonderful Swiss system) I went to the Fasnacht closest to our house where an enormous parade was held. Marching bands, floats the size of transport trucks, and baths of confetti filled the streets for two solid hours. Brigitte (a non-fasnachter) was lifted from our sideline position twice to be thrown into the confetti baths or floats. The time and effort that went into creating the parade doesn’t cease to amaze me.
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| Mehl soup |
Fasnacht Basel: The Fasnacht of Fasnachts. At 2.00am on Monday, February the 26th, my alarm to wake up rang much too loudly. I rolled out of bed and wrapped myself in layers of my most comfortable clothing. With a large cup of Tim’s Coffee in hand, I got in the 2.30 train from Baden to Basel. Within the hour I was standing in the streets of Basel with Brigitte, Willi, and over ten thousand other people. We found an alley that had enough room for the three of us to squeeze in, and waited. When the clock struck 4.00am every single light in the city of Basel went out. At the very same moment, flutes started to simultaneously play throughout the city. For the next hour, wildly dressed figures paraded the streets and alleyways playing drums and flutes, wearing lanterns on their head, and carrying lit signs that made fun of political and current issues. After this, we ate a thick, salty brown soup with mushy white things in it, that I think were made of flour. By 7.00am I was already back in bed in Freienwil and sleeping to start my school subjects in the afternoon. You may have just reads this and thought, “Weird…this whole thing doesn’t make much sense.” You are correct. I am baffled by the concept, and fully grateful that I was able to experience something so…special.
Ernen, Wallis
From the 11th to the 18th of February, I spent my first week of holidays with Andreas and Daria in one of the most beautiful and charming little towns I’ve ever seen. Ernen, in the kanton of Wallis, is renowned for being kept in the original state of that when it was built. The house I stayed in was amazing. Our room was on the fourth floor, through a series of winding hallways and tiny staircases. We lit a fire in the woodstove to heat it in the afternoons, and took warm bean bags to bed at night. We ate together with the tenants and guests every evening and drank hot water with our meals. I don’t think that anyone saw more skin than my hands and face for the whole week.
Each morning we would wake up and dress in as many layers as possible. The weather front coming from Russia brought with it a lovely temperature of minus twenty-five and an icy wind. We ate breakfast in the dining room which was a ton of bread, spreads, yogurts, and cheeses from the organic corner store (on the first level of the house). All bundled up we’d waddle to the bus in our ski/board shoes until we got to the gondola station. After a ten minute gondola ride, we would arrive at the base of the Fiescheralp. Fifteen minutes in a chair lift and there we were- at the top of the world. Or at least it feels like that when you take a look at the surroundings from the peak. At the beginning of the week I felt nervous and unsure of myself on my board. Daria is extremely good (seems to be a Swiss trend) and I was terrified of wiping out on the steeply sloped, rock solid runs. As the week went by however, I began to improve. I got to know the best lines to take- and those to avoid. By the end of a long day of boarding, I always worked up an insane hunger. I ate more than anyone in the house (men, women, old, young etc.) by a longshot and enjoyed every second of it. Pia (the store owner and cook) was fabulous and never blinked an eye when I went back for seconds, thirds, and so on. An unfortunate part of the week was that my snowboard, which I rented for the season was stolen on the third day. After searching and asking around, we realized we were wasting our time and rented a new board for the rest of the week. With a new board strapped on, and my frustration waning, we stepped into line for the chair. I looked down to my right where a boy about my size was standing, and there it was. My board. Black top, green edge, grey bindings, and a “Baden Inter-Sport” sticker. I jabbed Andreas in the side and pointed to the boy. The interrogation began. Andreas was very polite, but stern. The boy would need to take the board off instantly and give it back to me. The boy`s ski-instructor got involved and there was much confusion. It was finally decided we would call Baden to get the pin number to compare to the sticker on the board. I waited patiently to get my board back until some interesting news came back…it wasn`t mine at all. Slightly embarrassing! Daria and I hoped we wouldn`t see the poor kid for the rest of the week. For the last three days of the week, Andreas went home and Barbara was supposed to meet us. Extremely unfortunately however, was she sick and unable to come. Daria and I stayed just the two of us in the B&B and still had an awesome time. “What will you girls do without parents,” Pia asked. “Woooo Partyyyyyyy!!!!” I replied. Daria and I went wild learning how to knit, reading books, and playing board games. On our last day of skiing, it was coldest of all. The wind whipped over the snow, making it look like an angry white-capped sea below us from the chair lift. We wanted to get the most possible out of our last day, and planned down to the minute how many runs we could fit in. We didn`t calculate however, that our chair would stop running part-way because of the wind. When we finally arrivedf to the top of the mountain, we knew we`d have to ride across the hills instead of down them to get back to Fiescheralp. Problem: our trail went uphill, not sideways, and not down. We took our boards off and began our hike across the Alps. I felt like I was in some adventure/survival video. The slopes were deserted and every time we got to another lift, it was already closed for the day. “Where to now Daria?” I asked as we came to a fork. She didn’t answer but just stared to her left up a nearly vertical slope. “F***” I mumbled as we dug our toes into the snow creating enough edge to stand on. When we reached our gondola, we were amazingly on time and anything but cold. A hilarious way to end our boarding week. On Saturday morning before we caught our train home, we went mule riding. Apart from the chilliness, it was a perfect way for me to get a last glance at the beautiful and very special town of Ernen. Thank you Wittwer’s, for including me in your plans and giving me yet another unforgettable experience in der Schweiz!
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| The Restaurant for Lunch |
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| Fiescheralp |
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| Sweethearts |
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| Love of my life |
Oo la la, Oui oui, Merci
After some extremely fast packing and unpacking, I was already travelling from one country to the next within 12 hours of returning from Ernen. On February 12th after only five short hours of travel, I met my exchange-sister Julie in the Paris train station. Julie stayed with me for three months in Canada on her exchange and it was so good to see her again. I almost crushed her with a hug on the platform, and exchanged a kiss per cheek with her dad, Yves. Note: Two-kiss French greetings are much simpler than the three-kiss Swiss ones. I always manage to mess up those ones still to this day.
On our first afternoon we checked into a nice hotel in Paris and drove to the castle Versailles. I had, in all honesty, not the slightest what Versailles was before that day. When I saw it and the end of the street, it was like turning to the last page of a children’s story; where everyone lives happily ever after in a land of rich colours and glimmering gold. We explored the elegance of the palace and admired the exquisite décor. Nothing short of amazing. When I grow up, I want to be a princess. We set out to find my first French meal; to try the food that Julie had so proudly boasted about throughout her exchange year. Unfortunately, Paris is in Europe, meaning that streets and stores become deserted every Sunday. First French meal = chicken McNuggets. I had to chuckle.
By night we drove around Paris and watched the fabulousness of everything surrounding us. The beautiful people, the stunning architecture, the stories of history, the unreal cars, the most expensive stores, and the famous restaurants. Someone told me once that Paris was just another city. That person was wrong. Just being in the most famous city in the whole wide world and seeing the places I have heard so much about was a surreal feeling. We ate a wonderful dinner with the view of the Notre Dame behind us, and I couldn’t have been happier. We saw the golden Eiffel tower by night, and little snowflakes sparkled in its light. Perfection.
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| Notre Dame |
On our second day in Paris we climbed the Eiffel Tower stair by stair. It wasn’t nearly as tough as I’d thought, and the view was certainly worth it. A read a little bit about each view point as I walked around the tower, and wished that I’d been understanding in my history classes here (learning the French revolution). I did a lot of research when I got home (always a little behind in the game). We ate baguette sandwiches and crème brule for lunch and Yves promised me that I would try a different French specialty every day of my stay. We drove that afternoon to Averanches, Normandy (where Julie and Yves live) and he kept to his word. Julie and I enjoyed sweet pastries in bed for breakfasts, baguette with salted butter all hours of the day, and Yves delicious cooking for dinner every night.
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| View from the tower |
One of the most special things I was lunch to see in France was Le Mont St. Michel- a church situated on a tiny spit of land on the ocean that, depending on the tides, is surrounded by water. Julie and I spent the chilly day exploring the museums, feeding the birds, talking, eating crepes and taking pictures. We were so slow getting around the island (because I was an idiot and wore heels for a day of cobble-stone walking) that we didn’t even get the time to see the church itself! It didn’t matter though. We had the best day. 
The rest of our week was pretty relaxed. Shopping (for pastry mostly), meeting more of Julie’s family, watching movies in bed, and laughing until we’d collapse on the kitchen floor we treasured every minute. I cried like a baby as my train pulled away from Paris. It felt strange to be coming back to Switzerland after feeling and acting like I was in Canada for a week with Julie. All things come to an end. Thank goodness I have such special memories that I can always look back on!
The Blind Cow
A few weekends ago I went with my family to the wildest, most interesting and entertaining restaurant. It is called the Blind Cow (translated) and is an experience for people with sight to live a few hours as a blind person. The servers are all blind, and lead the customers conga-line-style to the correct table. The restaurant is pitch black with darkness. One can close their eyes and open them without noticing the slightest of differences. Food would come and I you could hear as forks stabbed blindly at the plat in attempt to find the food on it. Ina was brave and even ordered the “surprise” menu. Two or three times I thought I was finished eating until I’d find something in a new corner of the plate, or that I’d knocked off the edge onto the table. I would love (and be highly embarrassed) to see a video of what the meal looked like if someone had seen us. The conversations were throughout the meal were priceless:
“Mmmm, this is delicious!”
“Really, what is it?”
“I’m not sure, but if you search to the right of your plate, maybe you’ll find it too!”
“I’m not sure, but if you search to the right of your plate, maybe you’ll find it too!”
Every part of the meal was delectable and the whole experience was unforgettable.
Feeling Cultural
In France, I bought these awesome pants that I just adore. They are yellow-beige, pleated at the front, baggy in the thighs, and elastic at the bottoms. The best thing about wearing them is that I feel extremely European. Note to self: just because you are feeling European one day, does not mean you are truly capable of doing European things; riding your bike to school, for example. I left the house feeling determined, capable, and Swiss-ly athletic. The ride to school went pretty well. I wasn’t late, but showed up with bright red cheeks and windblown hair in crazy direction. The bike ride back was total hell. I asked myself what in the world I was thinking as I passed a sign to warn trucks of the severe steepness. With only a few tears shed (I’m serious), a lot of sweat, and surprisingly no blood, I conquered the Freienwil hill. My butt-muscles ached for the next week, but at least I can say I did it. I have now realized how much I appreciate my beloved bus.
In France, I bought these awesome pants that I just adore. They are yellow-beige, pleated at the front, baggy in the thighs, and elastic at the bottoms. The best thing about wearing them is that I feel extremely European. Note to self: just because you are feeling European one day, does not mean you are truly capable of doing European things; riding your bike to school, for example. I left the house feeling determined, capable, and Swiss-ly athletic. The ride to school went pretty well. I wasn’t late, but showed up with bright red cheeks and windblown hair in crazy direction. The bike ride back was total hell. I asked myself what in the world I was thinking as I passed a sign to warn trucks of the severe steepness. With only a few tears shed (I’m serious), a lot of sweat, and surprisingly no blood, I conquered the Freienwil hill. My butt-muscles ached for the next week, but at least I can say I did it. I have now realized how much I appreciate my beloved bus.
On a different cultural note, I had another Rotary Weekend in Engelberg on the third and fourth of March. Feeling the need to make the absolute most of the weekend, I tried my best to talk to as many people as possible. I spoke German with the Latinos (who I was never able to get to know before), passed on my wisdom (my embarrassing stories) to the newbies, and moved from table to table of people from around the world. After a night with extremely little sleep, I got back to my roots and went skating. The Canadian girls showed off their skills and helped our more tropical friends learn to do the same.
I ended the weekend with one of my Canadian girls- Carly where we made a trip to see a new kanton. In Niderwalden we played for an hour in a children’s park, just to say we’d been there. 18 kantons down, 8 to go!
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| Me being a nut...what else is new? |
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| Canadians loving life |
