The Lost Supper

First, let me apologize for the tardiness in finishing my travel story. There was a minor mishap with my laptop and a certain two-year-old and I no longer have a personal computer. I have acquired a loaner from my host dad until something is done to fix or relpace my broken soul....I mean laptop. I shall now continue the tale of my adventures....

My second day in Milan began around 10am. I figured that since I had circled three cities in three days that my feet and legs had earned a solid break. Besides, vacation is meant for relaxing so I wanted to make sure I got some of that in too. After I took my time getting ready in the morning I hit the streets of Milan (like a tourist, not like a prostitute). My goal for the day was to track down Leonado di Vinci's painting of the Last Supper.

I had heard from a little bee named Alessandro that a reservation, made no less than three months in advance, is required to view the masterpiece. Like most major city attractions, a large number of people on a daily basis come from all over the world so they can say "Guess what I saw in Milan." So a line a football field long of people who planned three months in advance to see the painting was my competition for getting my turn, but I was feeling feisty that morning and thought I would give it a shot. Unfortunately, another handicap I had was that I didn't have the faintest idea of what building the painting was inside. All I had was a picture-book map and a general idea of where this treasure was hidden. I was hoping that my street smarts, dashing good looks, and amazing American accent would all come together to successfully hunt down the painting and convince the door man to let me take a peek.

Well I don't know if it was because all three of my attributes failed me miserably or because it was Sunday, but there was no infinite line to point me in the right direction nor were there any signs giving any indication that the painting was even in this city. After wandering around the general vicinity of where I thought I might find the Last Supper for about...um....15 minutes, I gave up and figured there were other things to see. I didn't want to spend my last day in Milan standing in a line anyways.

Instead, I decided to go to Castello Sforzesco, a castle in Milan dating back to the 14th century. Now to give you some information about this structure I just did a google search and have learned that there are surviving paintings from Leonardo di Vinci on the ceiling of the castle. I could have seen these for a mere 3 Euros but as I did not have this tidbit of information at the time, I passed up the opportunity. I believe that this what an epic failure feels like. It is times like these when the ability to laugh at yourself comes in handy.

Castello Sforzesco



So after failing to locate the Last Supper and then unknowingly passing up the chance to see some other Leonardo di Vinci originals, I decided to wander around Milano's central park. After wandering around the park for about an hour, watching the Sunday morning joggers, and daydreaming about the future, I stumbled upon Arco Della Pace, another marble masterpiece. I spent a lot of time circling the arc and even more time trying to time my jumping with the self-timer on my camera. After walking around for a while I decided to make my way to the train station.

Arco Della Paco

When I got back to the hostel to pick up my backpack, Alessandro had just started his shift. I asked him for a suggestion for where to go to lunch on my way to the subway (I wasn't about to repeat my mistake of walking the mile and a half  to Milano Centrale). The lunch spot, called Luini, that Alessandro suggested turned out to be a big hit with the native Italians because there was about a 20 minute line out the door. Obviously if it is good enough for the Italians than it had to be far better than anything I could imagine, so I waited in line and ordered the first thing on the menu. I can't recall what it was called, but was this deep fried batter filled with cheese, tomato, and prosciutto. D-E-Licious! I cought the next metro to Milano, Centrale only to realize that I had read my ticket wrong and arrived an hour earlier than I planned, so I posted myself on a bench and read a book until my train arrived. Once I was on board, I slept the whole four hours back to Zürich.

Milano Buy Some Shoes, Please!

Milano, Italy
January 8, 2011

My train to Milano, Italy departed the Lugano station at 7:39am. To ensure I didn't repeat the mistake of the previous morning I made sure to wake up an obscene amount of time too early so I would not miss my train. However, after staying out late into the early hours of the morning, having what turned out to be maybe one too many drinks, and a restless night of sleep due to the snoring of a fellow traveler in a neighboring bunkbed, my 6:00am alarm clock seemed like torture. I dragged my exhausted body out of bed and prepared myself for the next leg of my adventure. In hindsight, while sitting for an hour in the darkness at the train track in the rain, I realized I may have taken my worry of deja vu to an extreme. Once I boarded the train southbound to Italy I crawled up in a ball to retain any warmth my body could generate and took a nap.



Milano Centrale

 One short hour later, at 8:30am on the dot, I woke up at in Milano Centrale (Milan Central Station). I slowly gathered my things and got off the train to once again hunt down a map and a hostel. After wandering around the train station for about 30 minutes, wiping the sleep from my eyes and adjusting to consciousness, I found the visitor center. Yet again, with the smallest amount of information I could pry from the secrecy of the employee, I had a destination in the city. Now this is where things get a little comical as a direct result of lack of knowledge I received about Milano before being released into the city. What this certain individual failed to inform me was that it is about a mile and a half distance from the central station to the hostel - a short 7 minute subway ride costing a mere 1 Euro or a two hour walk carrying a 20lbs. backpack with exhausted legs from two days of nonstop walking and a sleepless night. Unfortunately, I experienced the latter. So around 11:00am (after losing my map somewhere along the way and having to track down another), I finally arrived at Hostel La Cordata. Despite being in a country rich of history, design, carbs, and wine I took a mental and physical break and napped in the common room for about an hour.

According to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, after securing shelter, the next order of business: Lunch. Well, maybe not precisely "lunch" but it was the time of day and I had pizza on my mind. While heading towards the city center I was persuaded by a young Italian boy to try his little hole-in-the wall restaurant tucked away in an alley of deliciousness. I sat down at my table and ordered a grilled vegetable pizza. Unlike in the USA where it is common for people remove the grease from their pizza with their napkin to exclude themselves from the unhealthy American stereotype, in Italy, there was a big puddle of fresh olive oil poured atop my pizza - and I gladly ate it all.

Leonardo di Vinci

Galleria Virrorio Emanuelle II

Now that I had shed the 20lbs. of backpack weight at the hostel and gained back 20lbs. from eating delicious greasy Italian food, I began touristing. I first stumbled on a tall sculpture of Leonardo di Vinci. I can't describe the connection I feel to Leonardo di Vinci, but I hold the man with such high respect for making an undeniable impact on so many aspects of art, medicine, architecture, and technology. I felt honored to be standing in the presence of a tribute to the man. Beyond the statue was the Galleria Vittiorio Emanuelle II (1865). This double arcade is an incredible structure filled with boutiques from the most highly respected designers in the world (and McDonalds, of course). Both the interior and exterior architecture of this Galleria was so astonishing that there is no wonder it took 12 years to complete. The structure of the beautiful giant glass and cast iron dome suspended in the center was even used as inspiration for the Eiffel Tower. Just on the other side of the Galleria is the heart and soul of the city: Duomo di Milano.

In my previous attempts to convey the absolutely amazing things I have witnessed in my travels, I have written about the tiny cracks in the old architecture, the amazing repetition of the arc patterns in the cobblestone, and the transformation of the ordinary made extraordinary. However, as I am now reflecting on what I saw next in the midst of the holiday sale frenzy in Milan I am having a hard time finding the words that can remotely do justice to describing my experience.

As I reached the end of Galleria Vittiorio Emanuelle II, I caught my first glimpse of Duomo di Milano and my breath was immediately taken away. The feeling was so powerful that I literally forgot to breathe. It was almost as if I was scared to exhale because I wanted time to stand still until I could absorb and comprehend the perfection that was staring back at me. The vastness of the sheer size of the cathedral is enough to make you stumble on your own words. There is something violent about the harsh jagged edges created in the negative space surrounding the silhouette of the structure, yet the soft pink and white hues of the marble cushions the eye and draws your eye in towards the intricate details. Once you set aside the complexity of the design and focus on each component separately you are able to notice that each statue, motif, and pattern captures it's own personality and conveys an individuality that is completely different from the next. Each statue balanced on the building exterior is carved from marble with such detail and precision that if you let your imagination go the figure might just come to life. The vertical lines pointing to the heavens are repeated throughout the architecture and send a subliminal message of praise that is impossible to miss, though some people might not be able to decipher it.



Eventually, the swarms of people scurrying around the Palazzo slowly came back into focus and my out of body experience came to an end. I zigzagged through the masses of people who, to my utter astonishment, were going about life as if they weren't in the presence a masterpiece. I made my way to the front door of the cathedral, took a deep breath, and went inside. As the giant hand carved wooden door closed behind me I could swear the world stopped turning. All the problems, worries, stresses, and evil in the world disappeared. I am sure that anyone, whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, or atheist who has had the privilege of entering this cathedral can attest to the undeniable Holy presence in the building. As a tear streamed down my face I took my first step.



Everything that embodies my passion for design, architecture, art, human expression, spirituality, and religion was towering above me and had been here all along. It was as if somehow the architect had harnessed the powers of the heavens and captured the essence of righteousness in the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Every direction I looked was something that I could have poured over for hours. In order to get a grasp on something, anything, I began my slow walk around the outer ring of the cathedral. I made sure to stop and carefully study each monument as I walked by so that I could absorb the energy that it radiated. I must have spent at least 3 or 4 hours exploring the church because when I left it was dark outside and time for dinner. To be honest, I could have easily spent the entirety of my time in Milan inside this cathedral focusing on every detail in each corner, praying, and simply sitting at the feet of God to rest in feeling of His comfort.

Perfection in a shoe

I headed back to the hostel to officially check into my room and find somewhere to have dinner. On my way home I accidentally wandered down the wrong street. Fortunately, it was a blessing in disguise because I ended up passing a shoe store that for some reason caught my eye. The next thing I knew, I found myself trying on shoes. Then, I saw them. The shoes I have always wanted. If you have seen the movie Wicker Park (I highly recommend it) then you know exactly what I'm talking about - black pumps with a bright red sole. I've seen the shoes many times before but always in the most expensive department stores and never costing less than $550. The shoes I found in this little store in the middle of Milan were only 39 Euros (about $50 USD). After finding the miniature size of 35 (size 5-1/2 USA), I snatched up the opportunity and bought the shoes on the spot. I now have them displayed on a shelf as art in my bedroom until I find an occasion worthy enough to wear them.

After getting settled in at the hostel, changing my clothes, and once again drying my socks from the rainy weather, I headed to the hostel office to ask for a restaurant suggestion to delite in classic Italian pasta. The next thing I knew, Alessandro as I came to learn was his name, asked to join me for dinner. Nervous about the romancing tendencies of the Italian male, I apprehensively said yes. He took me to this little mom and pop restaurant and proceeded to order the entire meal without consulting me, wine included. I have never had a man take charge in the situation like that and I must say it was a little unnerving. To my pleasant surprise what he ordered was actually quite delicious. We scarfed down our food while talking about love, naturally. I went out of my way a couple times to make sure he was aware that I was otherwise occupied by another man so he wouldn't try his suave moves on me. Although I had my guard up the whole night, it was nice to share a meal with a local. We split the bill and he walked me safely back to the hostel. As I gave him a "thank you" hug goodnight he snuck in a kiss on the cheek and then immediately apologized when he saw the stern look on my face. I crawled into bed early so I could get a good night sleep before continuing my Milano adventure in the morning.

Lugano Be as Good as Luzern?

Lugano, Switzerland
January 7, 2011

After testing my ability to travel alone, conquering my fears of facing my thoughts head-on, and my wonderful time in Luzern, I decided to take things up a notch. I found a great "Super Saver" deal online for train tickets to Lugano, Milano and back to Zurich. Instead of another day trip, I would board a train on Friday morning and wouldn't be home until Sunday night. Three days alone and an infinite amount of mystery ahead.  I thought I was being a tad bold for booking a ticket for a train that departed from the Zurich Hauptbahnhof (main station) before sunrise, but I figured "live now, sleep later."

My train to Lugano left on Friday at exactly 6:09am like Swiss punctuality goes, but as Rebecca punctuality goes, I was not on that train. As much as I like to think I have adjusted to the Swiss clock, I have learned that you can take Rebecca out of the USA but you can't take the procrastination out of Rebecca. So, with my tail between my legs, feeling like I had already set the tone of my adventures for absolute failure, I headed to the train station to purchase a second ticket to Lugano. After shelling out money I was already short on, I thought to myself, "This definitely ups the ante and better be the best trip ever." As I waited for an hour in the rain at the station for my next departure, I made a mental note - lesson learned.


Hotel & Hostel Montarina

 After taking a "life avoidance nap" on the train, I woke up in Lugano, Switzerland at 9:30am. Upon arrival I continued the unfortunate "Failure" theme of the day in my attempts to track down a tourist information center and a hostel where I could drop off my 20lbs Rucksack and sleep for the upcoming night. Now, I don't know if it is the general lack of tourists in Lugano, the Swiss/Italian culture, or some unknown deep-seated dislike of Americans, but everyone I encountered in my first hour in Lugano was less than helpful. From the train station employee, to the people on the streets, to the women in the tourist office, the local always responded to my questions with the shortest, most direct answer possible without daring to elaborate and risk revealing any extra facts might prove useful in my quest. So with the general lack of knowledge I acquired, I spent the first two hours in Lugano wandering in circles, retracing my steps up and down a steep hill, and studying my picture-book tourist map as if a more detailed street map would magically appear if I stared hard enough. Luckily after my second trip up and down the massive Lugano hill, I found a locker to ditch my backpack and finally had located my bed for the evening. Now 20lbs lighter and with the security of shelter for the night, I finally began my exploration of Lugano.

I have said numorous times in the past that I love the history of Europe. What is ironic is that I have taken many history classes in the span of my education, all of which I hated and none from which I chose to retain any long-term information. But once I am surrounded by an undeniable presence of years past I can't help but get lost in my imagination of the untold stories hiding in the cracks of the walls, the carvings over the doors, and the worn cobblestone paths. It is almost as if being in an old city forces you to forget about the hussle and bustle of modern day lifestyle and adapt to the simple way life that had been lived hundreds of years ago. The craftmanship and care that was devoted to every task is reflected in the details of architecture, the pattern of the walkways, and the atmosphere in the air. When looking at a door, or a window, or a wall, there is no presence of mass-produced products that were placed only to serve their function and nothing more. Instead, each object is a one-of-a-kind piece of art, carefully designed and crated for that building, for that entry, for that street. And without the technology of today I know that someone poured over their work for hours, days, and weeks to make it something utterly unique for someone else to marvel. And like any artist knows, a piece of work is a small piece of their soul in tangible form that was created to for others to appreciate. So while walking around an old city, it is only natural to stop and pay attention to the details, if not to just look at something beautiful but to pay tribute to the lives that were invested in creating the very thing you see.

Chiesa di Santa Maria degli Angioli

What I also love about old cities is that the unexpected is enevitable yet it remains a secret until it is discovered. Each time another treasure is uncovered it seems more remarkable than the last. It is almost like everywhere you go you can be sure to find the best-kept secret, but until you actually seek the unknown you will never know what you will find. While I was weaving my way through the streets of Lugano, taking pictures of surprise after surprise, I came to the end of the winding streets of Old Town and stumbled upon a church. From the exterior it seemed very understated and plain and since a majority of the structure was concealed by scaffoldings for obvious restoration, I almost decided to walk on by. However, when I noticed some people leaving the church, for some unknown reason, I decided to go inside. My breath was immediately taken away when I entered the doors and was met face to face with the largest and most exquisite fresco of the crucifixion. It spanned the entire width of the church and more than half of the height of the ceiling. I was completely alone in the sanctuary and felt like I had a secret VIP viewing of a masterpiece. After spending some time sitting in the pews and studying each detail of the painting, an overwhelming feeling of God's grace and faithfulness came over me. The weight of the morning's failures were lifted from my shoulders and replaced with a blanket of peace and serenity. Even though I am a Christian, I have scarcely participated in the traditions of Catholicism but in that moment I felt the conviction to light a prayer candle as a representation of my thankfulness for God's provisions.



Painting by Bernadino Luini (1529)


Once I had spent what seemed like hours in the church I decided to continue my adventures outside. I like to think that the long hidden staircase alongside the church was a gift from God built just for me a hunded years past with the foreshadowing of the moment when I would stumble upon it in my feeling of complete surrender this very morning. I headed up the staircase, which must have had over a couple hundred steps, to find what was at the top. Well of course, when I reached the top of the hill I had a wonderful overlook of the town of Lugano - or what you could see of Lugano. I know from my previous travels here six years ago that Lugano has a view of amazing terrain on the other side of the lake, but just my luck the weather from the previous day of rain and fog had traveled to Lugano and all I could see were the rooftops of the buildings in front of a backdrop of misty grey. So I continued my walk on the top of the hill, taking pictures of the architecture along the way until I found myself back at the train station for the third time. I decided to head back down the hill, again, but this time to wander along the shore of the lake. I still couldn't see very far across the lake as a result of the weather, but as a blessing in desguise I was able to take some pretty amazing photographs anyways.

In the late afternoon I was forced to take a break after draining my camera battery. I decided to retrieve my backpack from the locker, check into my room at the hostel, and continue my adventures later that evening. After a much needed break from walking, recharging of the camera battery, and essential drying of my socks, I headed back into Old Town to find some dinner. Unfortunately I am not one to eat in a restaurant by myself and wound up working myself into a mood of self-pity and lonliness. After about 30 minutes of inner arguments, I decided to walk into the first restaurant I saw and order myself a glass of wine. It wasn't long after I sat down at my table that a couple of guys at the neighboring table noticed my foreign-ness and struck up a conversation. I came to find out that they were celebrating a birthday and it wasn't long after a few more friends had arrived that I found myself adopted into the party. After lots of drinks and appetizers I had made a new set of friends and partied until the last members of the group left gave me a ride back to my hostel. I had a few hours of sleep before I had to wake up (extra early this time) to catch my train to Milano, Italy....

Luzern-tainly Raise My Spirits

Last Thursday I woke up and decided to do something with my life. After wollowing in bed for almost three days straight and avoiding the world, my life, and my feet on the floor, I decided it best to crawl out of my bed, shower, and get out for a bit. But I didn't want to get out just anywhere, I wanted to get away. Away from my thoughts, away from my computer, and away from my life. So I got on a train and headed to Luzern. For those of you who are familiar with Lucerne, you should know that Luzern is the same place. Upon arriving to the city, camera in hand, I began walking around the city, exploring, and taking pictures. As much as I would have wanted to turn off my brain, I actually began to enjoy my inner dialog and even stopped at a little paper store to buy a notebook to write everything down.

To illustrate my day in Luzern in the most accurate way possible I think that it is best to just post what I wrote in my notebook and give you direct insight into my thoughts:

Luzern - January 6, 2011

12:50pm - I've been wandering the streets of Luzern for an hour and I've seen many unexpected treasures. When I arrived at the train station I went to the tourist shop to find a map of the city and plan an outline of things I would want to see today. Since I slept in this morning and didn't arrive in Luzern until 11:30am, I wanted to make sure I saw the "must see" things in my short time here. Well, as I am alone and have no one with me to dictate what I do or where I go, of course I will venture the route that I choose. So far I've deviated from my "planned route" twice and been surprised with what secrets I've found. Down one street I discovered a hidden staircase (oh how I love hidden staircases), so of course I had to see where it went. It took me up a hill to a little residential area with the most incredible panoramic view of the city. I spent quite some time snapping photos and marveling at the splendor of the landscape and rooftops. I thought, from the look of the tourist map, that I could get to the stone lion carving (my original planned destination) from my detour, but after looking obvious that I had no clue where I was (probably by the turning the map and blank stares in every direction), a teenage girl stopped me and pointed me in the right direction. It turns out that tourist maps are more like picture books than actual useful street maps. So back down the staircase I went to find the lion. After shooting some pictures of the sculpture and some self-takes to prove I was there, I headed towards Old Town.

Since I love Old Town Zurich I figured there would be some cool architectural photo opportunities in Old Town Luzern. On route, I felt called up a short street that was completely empty of people. So I went up and found a part of the Luzern Wall and some amazing buildings tucked behind some trees. Remanents of the old city wall sits on top of the hill bordering Luzern and still have eight complete watch towers. Up this tiny still street I managed to stumble upon one of the watch towers. Although the street ended up being a dead end that couldn't loop me around to Old Town, I felt greatful for my discoveries the freedom of destination. So once again I turned back in the direction I had come from and continued my hunt for the next amazing sight.

Since I am such a social person I never thought I would enjoy traveling alone, but in my desperate attempt to get out of my rut and away from my thoughts and stresses, I have discovered that traveling alone is fantastic! I don't have to check in with anyone or feel guilty for spending too much time finding the optimal angle for a photograph of something that only I find interesting. I also discovered that being with myself isn't a bad person to spend time with. I thought I would get annoyed by my own thoughts and have constant inner arguments, but on the contrary I found myself creating a very interesting narration. So in order to capture my thoughts, emotions, and mental breakthrough, I stopped in a stationary store and for one franc seventy I bought this book. And, since I am alone, I don't have to feel guilty planting myself on a flowerbox to take some time to reflect. I think today is going to be great!

4:30pm - The afternoon has held just as much adventure as this morning. While wandering through Old Town (and buying a sweater) I discovered a treasure that I never knew about Luzern. Almost every building has some sort of fresco or painting on its outer walls. Some of them are incredible while others look like an amature drawing. This new fact that I uncovered made it hard to decide what streets to walk down because I didn't want to miss anything. At times I felt like I was walking in circles to ensure I saw all there was to see, although I'm sure I still missed a lot.

When nearing the end of Old Town I caught a glimpse of the Luzern wall again. I decided once again to abandon the map for an excursion. Since I had no clue where I was going I just walked in the direction of one of the wall towers. I was walking up a residential street and to my utter surprise I found myself another hidden staircase leading right where I needed to go. I ignored the sign on the gate to the staircase (which I couldn't understand anyways) and just hoped I wasn't going to stumble into someone's back yard while they were there. Luckily it just led me to another street right along the wall. When I got to the top I saw the coolest tower along the wall and I just had to snap some photos of it. So again, I ignored another sign - this one saying "Privat" and leading directly into someone's back yard (hey, it's not an adventure unless there is a little tresspassing and light law breaking, right?) Unfortunately, it was only after I tresspassed that I realized, duh, you can't take a picture of a tower when you're standing directly under it. So I retraced my steps and headed back down the public road to find a better angle. As I was walking along the wall I noticed some other towers, equally amazing, and snapped a few photos. Then, all of a sudden I discovered an archway in the wall that went through to the other side! Genius! And to my pleasant surprise there was a vast field behind the wall and unobstructed views of the all of the towers. So I walked along the wall taking as many pictures as my heart desired. I walked until the wall came to an end and then looped back around to head back into the city. It was amazing that on this other side of the wall it looked like the country meets the suburbs. It was a totally different atmosphere than the city-side of the wall.

Once I was back in the city I crossed the river to see what was on the other bank. I found myslelf exploring random streets wherever I found the architecture to be interesting without a care in the world of whether or not I would end up getting lost. It seemed like every street I went down I found some architectural masterpiece that would be so easy to miss unless you were willing to let go, open your eyes, and allow yourself to discover the unknown. Take, for example, this Apotheke (pharmacy). I would never guess in a million years that such careful precision, care, thought, and design, would go into a building that would later become your everyday pharmacy. Had I not known, I would have guessed that great Lords and Ladys lived here and the building had been passed from generation to generation to ensure that the upmost respect and care be taken of such an architectural treasure. Staircases like these don't exist in the USA and make discovering Europe so much more exicting and worth while. I only wish that this kind of detail was the worldwide building standard of today.

I guess my inner compass was working through my adventures in the back streets because eventually I found my way back to the train station. By that time I was about to pee my pants so I began my search for a bathroom - stat. (I know you are wondering - why I'm reporting about my bodily functions? I have a purpose, I promise.) After wandering the maze of the train station I finally found a "Mr. Clean" bathroom. Finally! Then I noticed something strange: it was going to cost me 2 francs to use the facilities! I realize that Switzerland is in the habit of over-charging, but does it have to charge for everything? Desperate, I paid the 2 francs and felt greatful after.

Before I getting onto the train I made sure I crossed the famous Chapel Bridge that was built in 1333 (although most of it burned down in 1993 from a discharged cigarette and parts had to be rebuilt). Soon after, my camera battery died and it began to rain so I figured that it was time for me to head back to Zurich.


Chapel Bridge (1333)

Since having so much fun in Luzern I spent a lot of my quiet afternoon daydreaming of where I could head off to next. When I got home and did some research I found a great deal for a train ticket to Lugano the very next morning and Milan the day after....

The Uncertain Affair

"Wearing turtlenecks is like having a really weak guy strangle you all day. Wearing a backpack and turtleneck is like a midget trying to bring you down." - Mitch Hedberg

For the past couple weeks I have felt like I have been constantly wearing an invisible turtleneck and backpack. For some reason my breaths have been a little shallower, my sleep has been a little more restless, and once I finally drift into the world of the unconscious I want to snooze my alarm until the point when I wake up it is all over. The only problem is that I don't know what "it" is.

For those of you who don't know me well, and you may have guessed already, I tend to be...dramatic. Although it is my least favorite attribute of myself, it is a quality that rears its ugly head every so often and takes a big bite out of my livelyhood. I could hide this from you all by chosing not to post my Debby Downer moments, but in order to be true to myself and honest about my experiences, I feel it best to share everything - even when the going gets rough.

Unless you have lived in another country for an extended period of time with no set plans to return home (study abroad doesn't count) then there is really no way that you can understand my current situation. So, in order to communicate effectively, I will describe my troubles through a subject matter that everyone can relate to - Relationships.

I have been in a life-long relationship with the United States. Seeing as I lived there for over 24 years I think it's safe to say that it can be considered a Common-Law Marriage. However, despite being blissfully happy with this marriage, ever since I can remember I've always been attracted to Switzerland. Seeing as I'm half Swiss it's only natural that I should have a desire to explore the adventure of the foreigner. The grass is always greener on the other side, right? So, in a moment of weakness I made a spur of the moment decision and with somewhat careful planning I began my affair with Switzerland.

Unfortunately, just like in any relationship, Switzerland and I have started bickering. I'd like to pretend that living abroad is a dream-life of big fluffy snowflakes, mysterious foreign accents, and adventure around every corner. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, the reality is that it's freezing cold, there is a lack of conversational opportunities, and just around the corner is the vast uncertainty of the unknown.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not ready to give up on this grand venture. I am certain that this is just a phase and it will quickly fade into the background until the details are hardly recogniseable, but right now I'm dead smack in the middle of it. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that this didn't happen earlier because Switzerland and I are headed into the fifth month of our affair and the cloudiness of the romance has started to fade and reveal its imperfections. It also doesn't help is that I am terrified of committment.

I fear that this uneasy feeling I have is due to the reality that each day that passes is one day closer to the day that I will have to choose between my marriage and my affair. Do I return to the country that has raised me, that I have built memories with, and that I have invested in, or do I abandon it all for a country that has romanced me but I barely know? I lay awake at night and play in my head the countless scenarios of what my life would look like if I picked one or the other. And yes, I realize that I have nine months left to really make my decision so it's a bit early to be weighing the odds, but I can't seem to shake the worry.

It's times like these that I wish God was like Mufasa and could beam down from the heavens in a flury of cumulous clouds to tell me to "Remember who you are" and I would miraculously know what path I am supposed to take. Maybe I'm supposed to return to Pride Rock instead of staying in the jungle eating bugs with Pumba and Timon.

Regardless, I think that three metaphors is enough for one blog. I hope that processing it on paper (and by paper I mean intangible and highly public internet site) will help me put this to rest so I can allow God work in my life. And who knows, maybe God will use someone (ahem - maybe you) to help guide me in the right direction. I just hope I'm not in the jungle having an affair with Switzerland with an invisible midget on my back for much longer. It's exhausting...

102 Degree Swiss Christmas

First let me start by saying Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

It was great celebrating Christmas with new traditions and different family members. I'm sure you're all sitting on the edge of your seats wondering how Christmas in Switzerland differs from Christmas in USA. Well first of all, international blog readers, Christmas is celebrated on the night of Christmas Eve. I was at my aunt and uncle's house in Adliswil, a small town across the lake from where I live. That night we enjoyed a traditional Swiss Christmas meal - Fondu Chinois. Fondu Chinois takes the concept of dipping something in a communal pot of yumminess, but with a twist. Instead of dipping bread into a pot of cheese, you dip raw meat into a pot of hot broth until the meat cooks and then you have your choice of sauces to dip your freshly cooked meat in. I have to say that my love of classic cheese fondu overpowers my love of meat cooked in broth and dipped in sauce, but a fun experience and delicious meal nonetheless. After the delicate cousine we opened presents. Yes, on Christmas Eve we opened the presents. I know what you are thinking - What happens on Christmas morning? To be honest, I have no idea what normally happens because we hopped in the car and drove to Bellwald, Switzerland.

For the entire week after Christmas I had a wonderful time in Bellwald, Switzerland. It's a tiny town on the side of the mountains tucked away in the Canton of Wallis (south western Switzerland). My aunt, uncle, cousins, a friend (Blue Blizzard), and I spent the week in a Chalet in Bellwald, walking around the winter wonderland, skiing, and playing Brandi Dog (the best game ever).


Our Chalet

Now by this time I'm sure you are scratching your head and wondering how it is possible for me to have had a 102 degree Christmas in the middle of the Swiss Alps. Well I can assure you that it wasn't the temperature outside that was 102 degrees. No, unfortunately it was me. Christmas night brought a wonderful time with my family - followed by the stomach flu. I guess I wasn't so lucky to dodge the kindergarten germs after all and ended up experiencing my Christmas dinner 7 more times....in the opposite direction. But enough of the gross details because lucky for me it was only a 24 hour flu and I was back on my feet in no time and ready to ski.

Michi, Estella, Andy, Mirji, Me

On Tuesday and Wednesday we went skiing and like Davos, the view was A-MA-ZING! The second day was so clear that we could see all the way to the Matterhorn! Again, the photos never do justice. For those of you unfamiliar with the Matterhorn: go buy a bar of Toblerone chocolate or visit Disneyland.

The Matterhorn

Now for the second holiday of the week - New Years. I was back in Zurich for New Years Eve and was lucky to have made enough friends by now to have some people to share it with. New Years in Switzerland is just as big as it is in the USA, but there is no Time Square, there is no ball drop, but there are fireworks! After wandering around downtown Zurich, listening to some bands play covers of country songs (strange, I know), dancing to the hits of the 80s and 90s (including my personal favorite Michael Jackson and Switzerland's favorite David Hasselhoff - so bizaar), we finally gathered at the top of the lake and anticipated the firework show. Here comes my only complaint of the evening: There was no countdown to midnight and I actually missed it. Yes folks, I missed the oh-so-accurate Swiss clock turning midnight because I didn't have a large crowd of people screaming "Zah, Nun, Acht, Siebe, Sachs, Foyve, Vier, Dru, Zwei, Eins, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!" (My apologies for my invented spelling of Swiss-German numbers and my lack of knowledge of how to say Happy New Year) In my denfense, the firework show didn't actually start until 12:20am (so much for Swiss punctuality). Regardeless, once the fireworks began I didn't even care what year it was because the show was magnificent! Depsite the unfortunately low hanging fog that covered up a lot of the fireworks, I can assure you that whoever footed the bill (tax payers of Switzerland including me) put on a great show!