Stop and smell the daffodils.

Upon reading my “internet” blog, a dear friend suggested that I detach myself from my computer desk and take a walk instead. Maybe with a camera and a notepad. It made sense – I was in Switzerland after all. And now, I have her to thank for a wonderful day. It was also the first day that I had spent alone in quite some time, and I liked it. 

First stop: Musée de l’Elysée, a photography exhibition by Hans Steiner of Switzerland during and after of WWII. Haunting images of Belgian orphans in Switzerland, women wearing the first bikinis by the river in Bern, machinery in a chocolate factory, children learning to ski for the first time...

I recently started a postcard collection – it’s the easiest and cheapest souvenir to find while travelling. I’ve also discovered that most art museums carry postcard copies of the artworks on display. A mini Picasso or Cezanne for two francs? Yes, please!

After that, I jumped on a bus to the Lausanne Vivarium. Or so I thought. But apparently not every bus goes through the city centre... Instead, I ended up in a remote little town called Pully: one of those places that you only know by the name of the train line, but never actually visit. But, determined to make the most of my day, I jumped off the bus and went exploring.

What I found were narrow cobblestone streets lined by beautiful European buildings and colourful flowerbeds already abloom with the first flowers of spring. As I reached the end of a narrow alleyway behind the church, I found myself staring at the most magnificent view of the Swiss countryside, Lac Léman and the Alps. Beneath the peaceful church courtyard, vineyards and country villages sprawled outward in every direction. In the distance, a train chugged along the hillside and disappeared into a tunnel. The birds chirped in the spindly trees and behind me, a church bell began to toll. I just stood there and smiled.

My day didn’t end there. On the way home, I decided, quite spontaneously, to get off one stop early. Why not visit the botanic gardens? Spring was just around the corner and the turn of the seasons was always an interesting time in the plant kingdom. What I found was a world in transition. There were some plants still deep asleep and some emerging from tiny green buds; others were already in full bloom, undeterred by the crisp wintery air. I loved them all. For the next few hours, I found myself on my knees in the soil or stretching out on tip toes, clicking away furiously on my camera. The garden didn’t need to be exploding with life for it to be incredibly beautiful. The process itself was enough to take my breath away.

Dawdling home at my own pace, I vowed to take the wrong bus again the next chance I got. It was time I reacquainted with my oldest friend: me.

“Life is about who you share it with.”

I read this quote on a friend’s Facebook status one night. Wedged in between vivid YouTube videos and bizarre quiz responses, it almost escaped my notice completely. Yet once I had read it, my reaction was somewhat blasé. ‘Just another generic lovey dovey saying’ I thought to myself, and continued scrolling down my News Feed in a fruitless search for interesting updates.

That was many months ago. Since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the phrase.

Yes, it’s clichéd. But clichés have to come from somewhere. And that somewhere is usually a commonly acknowledged truth – so commonly acknowledged, in fact, that it is taken for granted, unappreciated, and even mocked. That might be why I reacted the way I did...

But, the months that I spent pondering this little quote also marked a period of huge changes in my life. I’m under no illusion that I'm far from calm waters, but at this point in time, I can only reflect on what has already been. Guessing what is yet to come is something I have learned to do more and more in moderation.

I used to be a girl who didn’t need people’s company to be happy, to feel self-assured. I was quite happy in solitude. In fact, I preferred it that way most of the time. It may have something to do with being an only child who didn’t see much of her parents every day, and who didn’t have many friends growing up in a strange culture and a foreign country. I say that with no resentment or regret. It’s just the way it was.

But that all started to change about a year ago.

Maybe it was love? Maybe I just hadn’t found the right company till now? Or maybe it wasn’t the people I had gained, but those I had lost.

In those few months, I felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath me, and I was clutching at anything to make myself a safety net. I craved attention, affection, and above all, affirmation. I felt like a leech: so needy, so desperate. So reliant. And I was – for the first time since being a nine-year-old tucking myself into bed – scared to be alone.

I was beyond disgusted at myself, but it was a vicious cycle that I was too weak to break out of. Flattery and love flowed in from wherever I sucked. Everywhere except where I needed it the most. Yet, the more I got, the more I wanted, and the weaker I became to resist it. It wasn’t what I needed, but I tried desperately to fool myself that it was. It was an addiction of the worst kind.

It took me a long time to even realise I had a problem. Suppressing the pain was, as always, a much easier option. But they say recognition is the first step to recovery, right? I can take a step back now and look at the two extremes I had swung between. The harder part is doing something about it: finding the balance.

It’s learning the art of the three-legged race... Life is not about being the two-legged spectator, nor being the one pulling or being pulled. 

No, life is about who you share it with.

“A bottle of Skype or a joint of Facebook?” Have you had your hourly fix?

Thursday night, 9:30pm: Home at last after 6 hours of lectures and 2 hours of Salsa dancing. Starving, sweaty and beyond exhausted, what is the first thing I reach for? My laptop, of course.

9:35pm: A little red cross at the bottom right hand corner of the screen catches my eye. No internet connection. A wave of panic rises in my chest. Refresh. Refresh again. Nothing. Ok, I’ll just restart my computer. That will reboot the internet. Right?

9:40pm: ...wrong. The wave swirls higher. No, it’s ok, this has happened before. Worst case scenario, I go to bed tonight without internet. But come tomorrow morning, the world will be spinning back on its axis. Right?

9:50pm: ...(you know what to insert here). I come to the sad realisation that reading the sign on my roommate’s door for a fifth time will not actually change its (horrific) meaning.

9:55pm: My roommates and I make a pact to buy a new one if it cannot be fixed by tomorrow. A weekend without internet? Ha, that’s a good one!

10:00pm: Faced with my first internet-free evening in...too long, and already lost for things to do after five minutes, I realise just how tangled I have become in this sticky web.

Before tonight, I wouldn’t have said that I use my computer too much. Twenty hours of uni and eight hours of sport/dance a week, plus homework, going out, travelling and eating chocolate (oh, and sleeping) doesn’t leave much time for anything else. But if my reaction tonight is anything to go by, I should be changing my name to “Geeky Bi”.

Guess it’s time for me to pick up my violin or a good book! That’s right, dear reader, “book” without the “e–”.

Pork Perfection

A few days ago, I bought some pork.

No biggy, right? Wrong. Meat is excruciatingly expensive here in Switzerland. However, with a stroke of luck (more specifically, a ‘50% off’ sticker), I walked out of the supermarket with a kilo of pork under my arm and a plethora of recipes running through my head.

Oh, I forgot to mention, I also bought some (ridiculously overpriced) soy sauce and sesame oil. Yep, time to get cooking!

Simple Sesame-Soy Stirfry
~ Serves 2 ~

Ingredients:

·         Pork (200g, diced)

·         Celery

·         Carrot

·         Onion

·         Soy sauce

·         Sesame oil

·         Rice

Method:

1.    Cook rice (according to instructions on packet). Personally, I like a drizzle of sesame oil in mine.

2.    Throw pork and veggies in a wok on high heat. Add a pinch of salt and pepper.

3.    Stirfry until pork is cooked through. Drizzle with sesame oil and soy sauce, mix well.

4.    Serve with rice and enjoy! Told you it was simple.

This next one is from my mother – with a few of my own improvisations, of course. I hope I’ve done her recipe justice! Although I could not smell the end result due to my blocked nose, my roommate assured me (between burning mouthfuls and exclamations of “très bon!” and “c’est vraiment delicieux!”) that it smelled just fine.

Pork Roast, Sunday-Style
(and ‘every night for the rest of the week’-style)
~ Serves 4 ~

You’ll need:

·         Pork (500g)

·         Onion (2)

·         Carrot (2)

·         Pumpkin (500g)

·         Potato (4 medium)

·         Tomato (2, or a handful of the cherry variety)

·         Zucchini (1)

To prepare/cook:

1.       Preheat oven to 200ᵒC

2.       Dice all ingredients into 2cm x 2cm ‘cubes’

3.       Put everything in a large freezer/clean plastic bag 

4.       Add a drizzle of oil, salt and pepper (and herbs as you wish)

5.       Shake (gently), mix (thoroughly)

6.       Pour into a baking tray/dish, cover with foil

7.       Cook at 200ᵒC for around 60 minutes. When the meat is cooked through, your roast is ready!

Bon appétit!

Here We Go...

Just when I thought my life in Switzerland couldn't get any busier, uni started.

My first week was...HECTIC. Trying to take full advantage of my exchange, I attended almost every French class on offer (only with Hermione's time-turner could I have achieved more) and as many sports classes as I could squeeze in in between. Then, I was faced the difficult task of picking which ones to keep. In the end, I decided on eight. It's two more than I require credit for, but I couldn’t cull more than that, I just couldn’t.

And now, I am looking at my brand new, neatly ruled and brightly colour-coded timetable. It makes me happy.

·      Culture of Peace; Human Rights.

·      Analysis and Practise.

·      Grammar.

·      Linguistics.

·      French Songs.

·      Translation from English.

·      Literature and Culture.

·      And last, but definitely not least, Intercultural Interaction.

Plus one Discofit, one Step, one Rock ‘n Roll, one Salsa and one Pilates class to follow.

Oh, and let’s not forget my weekly Tandem meeting. For those unfamiliar with the term, it is a language exchange program. Simple and very effective. For me, it involves meeting for two hours over coffee (or preferably, hot chocolate and rhubarb tart) with a lovely French girl. One hour spoken in English, the other in French: an excellent cure for “Franglais”.

I have also cunningly kept my Fridays and Monday mornings free... It would be a shame not to travel when Switzerland is so conveniently located, don’t you think, dear reader?

So, it looks like I have quite a semester ahead of me. And with a little luck, and lots of chocolate, it may just be my best one yet!

La Gruyère

Last weekend, I got my first taste of the Swiss countryside. And it tasted good. The peaceful village we visited was not too hot or too cold; neither too large nor too small. La Gruyère was just right. 

As our train chugged into the countryside from Lausanne, cities evolved into towns into villages and cows began to outnumber human beings. Ninety minutes and eight hundred (vertical) metres later, we arrived at our first destination: Le Château de Gruyère.

Having spent most of my life in Australia and America, both “baby nations”, flying to Europe was like travelling through a time machine. While locals nonchalantly point to this five-hundred-year-old building and that thousand-year-old cathedral, I marvel, wide-eyed, at history. Firsthand. Not through a television screen, nor on the page of a text book. Walking around Gruyère Castle, I almost expected to see Macbeth standing on the balcony, mid-soliloquy, and to hear J.S. Bach’s music floating through the Baroque-style garden.

La Gruyère is also renowned for its Fantastic Art – a genre that I am a very big fan of. The exhibition at the castle was imagination and creation at its best. The vivid colours and otherworldly creatures wove through the castle like a magic spell, adding to its charm. Simply enchanting.

After lunch, we decided to make the most of the beautiful weather and take a walk through the countryside. Needless to say, it was beautiful. I love being blown away by the little things. Mountains (Australians, you know what I mean). Cows, with big brown spots. The way a railroad curves around a village like in a toy train set... We also made a few new friends. Of the equine variety. They neighed pleasantly in response to our greetings; evidently as multilingual as their Swiss human counterparts.

Next stop: La Maison du Gruyère, fromagerie. A little too commercial for my liking, but still very cheesy. In a good way. I was very impressed by the cheese ‘cave’. Ok, so ‘cave’ translates to ‘cellar’ in English, but it is actually the more appropriate term here. See?

Enough for one day? Not without my chocolate! Ten minutes from La Gruyère, in the little village of Broc is Cailler Chocolate Factory – also known as Nestlé, I’m just a little ashamed of supporting a company infamous for not supporting fair-trade. But I was in Switzerland, standing in front of chocolate heaven... So, I vowed to buy lots of Cadbury once I was back in Australia (huge sacrifice), and in we went.

There was a great tour of the facility – learning the history, seeing the machinery at work, trying cacao beans from around the world, all that jazz – but let’s face it, our minds were only on one thing: chocolate tasting. And it was worth the wait. Cheese isn’t really my thing (don’t look at me like that), but I more than make up for it with chocolate. 

Ok, now I’m eating dark chocolate as I type. But hey, got to get in the blogging mood, right? And I’m sure that’s a technique for good writing!

I am proud to admit that I tried every type of dark chocolate on offer at Cailler, plus quite a few of the milk variety. Truffles, pralines, caramels...nutty, crispy, creamy...
A chocoholic’s dream.  

So, that’s La Gruyère! So sweet. So Swiss.

Love is in the Air

Valentine’s.

Despite having a Valentine this year, I completely sympathise with the singles on this day. I’ve been there. Actually, by bad luck and even worse timing, I have always been there. And being half-way across the world this year doesn’t make it much better. No matter how “happily single” you may be, witnessing PDAs around every corner, watching men rush home with chocolates and roses, and being strangled by the pink and red streamers of commercialism cannot be fun. It’s like being hit in the face by a heart-shaped pillow. Repeatedly. And hard.

Or at least, that’s what I thought when I left my apartment on Valentine’s Day.

I had had a lovely conversation with the boy on Skype earlier that morning, but now, the signs on buses flashed obnoxiously with “JOYEUX ST VALENTIN” and “♥ LES AMOUREUX”. And it seemed that everyone had received the memo to carry around a single red rose. Everyone but me. In class, a project on the tradition of chocolate-giving on Valentine’s Day followed. Was there no end to this taunting? And I even had a Valentine. A wonderful, wonderful one... Or maybe that was the problem? That I knew exactly what I was missing? Well, I was missing it, alright.

But five hours later, I took back every bad thought I had directed toward St Valentine that morning. Because I came home to this:

Of course, I would’ve liked the man behind them, but the sentiment alone had me grinning like an idiot for the rest of the night. Organising the delivery of my favourite flowers (actually, they are white lilies, not Arum...but that’s another story!) from florists offering only French, German and Italian could not have been easy.

After that, I did exactly what I would’ve frowned upon that morning: I plastered a photo of the flowers, complete with a caption of my gushing, straight onto Facebook.

Sorry, my dear readers, I guess love does make you do crazy things after all...