Interlaken, Switzerland

The start of something new…
So I feel like blogging, let’s see how long I keep it up this time. Not making any lofty promises though…
Last weekend I went to Interlaken, Switzerland. Alone. Toute seule. ALLLLL BYYYY MYYYYSELLLLLLLFFFF. And it was perfect – entirely peaceful and relaxing. I had a beautiful weekend with just enough snow and plenty of sunshine. Felt a little bit like home.
I got into town after a 5 hour train ride in the mid afternoon on Friday. Spent the day wandering around town a bit, found a great market and bought some fresh gnocchi stuffed with pesto and fetta which I made for dinner at the hostel. It was delicious. Rented myself some snowshoes, and had a quiet night to rest up for Saturday’s adventures.

the red roofed building is my hostel.

The next morning I got a good early start, and was on the mountain by about 10:00am (mind you, this was after a short walk, a bus ride, a train ride, and a tram up the cliffs… a bit more work than just rolling over midmorning in room number 10 at the worst western and deciding to go skiing. Getting to the mountain in Interlaken was a bit more involved…) When I finally made it to the trailhead, I was ready to strap on my snowshoes and start my day. But the trail was well packed… there wasn’t much need for snowshoes, so I found myself just hiking for most of the morning (which made me think of the words of wisdom from my cousin, Brendan: “of course I need snowshoes. If I weren’t wearing snowshoes, I would just be SHOEing. And that would just be… unprofessional.” I felt a little silly with snowshoes strapped to my backpack… but soon found the occaision to use them…) I stopped for lunch at a café that was at the top of a lift on the mountain (as it turns out I had been traversing over towards the skiers domain.) Reminded me a lot of sunspot… Just as I sat down, there was a great snowboard competition starting up – so I ended up sitting around for almost two hours to watch. Pretty talented kids… made me wish I had gotten to see my cousins compete more! Someday… And after lunch I took off again, decided to go off the trail for a little while to actually put my snowshoes to good use. It was beautiful, breathtaking, peaceful… just what I was looking for. And after a long day of hiking, I took the gondola back down to the train, to the bus, to the hostel. My feet were tired, but happy.

Sunday, I got another early start but went up the hills in the other direction from town to explore around some of the mountain villages. Ended up meeting two guys on the bus: Mark from Switzerland and Mario from Portugal. They invited me to join them on their hike, and seeing the opportunity for decent company, I obliged. We ended up romping through various villages together for about four hours, in and out of snow. They were great… entertainment. Characters, for sure. But they made for great memories, and I’m glad I have a couple pictures.
Sunday night was quiet, made some friends in the hostel and watched a movie together over dinner. And got on a train early Monday morning to head back to Paris! Being back in the city makes the whole weekend feel like a dream. It’s hard to believe that places of solitude and tranquility could possibly exist anywhere near this busy city. But I’m glad I got to experience that type of retreat for a weekend…

Thought I should write something. For a change.

I looked at my closet today. I looked at my closet and realized that this room, this city, the streets I know and the ones still unfamiliar, the old man I passed on my way home tonight who was walking the golden retriever puppy that has grown up so much in the past three months… I realized that all of these things are my life in Paris. From my ridiculous collection of maryjane shoes to the metro corridors I could know with my eyes closed to the laundry I am putting off doing because I would rather spend the 5 euro on a café crème… These things are my life in Paris. A growing collection of maps from around the world and a cherished collection of letters from home. These things are my life in Paris. Bottles of wine finished over homemade dinners, countless hours planning weekend adventures, the Moroccans, the Mexicans, the Algerians, the Germans, the French, and Spaniards. These things are my life in Paris. The thoughts I’ve thought to myself, the ideas I’ve formulated with others, the plans I’ve dreamed up for my own life, These things are my life in Paris. And to think, all I had to do was look in my closet…
What is this life in Paris? Stories, growth, laughs, problems solved, decisions made; a smaller part of a larger education. Add up the days: ten and a half months. But, this year is significant. It is going to determine my priorities. It has made me passionate about certain things – things I intend to remain passionate about. It has taught me the fine art of listening; although this is an art I still need to perfect. It has taught me how to better express myself when words don’t go far enough. It is going to influence the way I raise my children and the role I play in my own family – present and future. This year in Paris is a fraction of my life; but I cannot find words to express the significance of this fraction. I imagine I won’t know its influence until much, much farther down the road.
That’s all really.
Some people just have epiphanies while looking in their closets.