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I finally caught up with photos on flickr through Sebastian’s first adventures, not including Christmas shots. As always there are guest passes to view the full albums, leave a comment or send me an email if you need the link. I’ve also posted them on facebook.
Happy, originally uploaded by kara melissa.
Most recently we went to the states to introduce Sebastian to his family there. He got so much love an attention, I think he was a bit confused upon returning to Cairo. We seem to know a lot more folks in Michigan! Sebastian experienced Thanksgiving, which was also my first stateside in eight years. On the way to Michigan, there was a stop in London, so you’ll see a few photos taken in East London. We spent some time in Holland, Mi. visiting college friends and introducing our kids to each other! We also celebrated my nephew Ethan’s 8th birthday and spent some time in the snow.
Prior to leaving London, we spent some time visiting tourists sights (Piccadilly, Mayfair, Pall Mall, Horse Guards Parade, Big Ben, Hamleys Toy Store, Abbey Road) and snapping photos of Sebastian and I in front of them.
Two weeks before leaving London, we took Sebastian on his first plane ride with Swiss Air to visit some of my old friends in Schaffhausen from my time teaching there. There’s a bit of a story with that adventure, but I’ll leave that for another day.
Some of the photos are public, but most are private with a guest pass only. Drop me a line and I’ll send the links on to you.
Happy holidays!
Goodbye. So long. Til next time. I’m outta here.
Today was the last day of school. The children spoiled me with gifts of Swiss chocolates and coffee mugs as well as cuddly toys, lavendar aromatherapy kits and even champagne glasses (!) for our final goodbyes. We spent our last day together mostly just hanging out before the Farewell Assembly which was held for the students/families and teachers leaving. By the time I stood up to present gifts to two of my students, I had been stifling the tears for three-quarters of an hour and there would be no speeches from me.
When it came time for my boss to bid me farewell in front of the entire school student population, parents and colleagues, I was ready but kept thoughts and thanks close to my heart so as not to open the flood gates. Being presented with a farewell of champagne signified that I was leaving for happy reasons (what else is there but to join your love in the same home after a year apart?). But regardless of good reasons or not, I am an emotional woman. PMSing, packing up and moving house and classroom as well as the last day of school all at once can be a bit of a load to carry. But I do alright.
I think it was after the assembly that got me. I had moms coming up and hugging me, crying and so sad to say goodbye. I was deeply touched that I had made such an impact on them and their children’s lives in one year. I also believe that when there is a struggle involved, the reward is that much more important and this was the case with my job and everything that went with it. Our school community was smaller than I have ever experienced and the active involvement of the parents, the support of the staff and the way that I knew every child in this school was also an entirely new experience for me. There are many things that I will take with me to my future endeavours that I have learned in my time here, albeit being extremely lonely and finding life difficult at times. Perhaps this was another reason my school community felt so tight; there wasn’t much of a community outside of it for me here.
In my exit interview this week my boss told me that I am outspoken and I always say what’s on my mind and this is a good character trait but sometimes I need to be more sensitive to how what I say affects others. This is true. I love that she could tell me this. And she has appreciated my constructive thoughts and ideas over the course of the year.
I am so happy to be embarking on the life ahead. The changes that have arrived, all with Ali by my side. I could hardly contain the excitement while I waited for his train to arrive on Monday afternoon. It would be the last time he would visit and we would be leaving TOGETHER. What an amazing concept. After a year apart with sporadic visits, we would finally be together without a separation in sight. I am so thankful to have had his help to organise my move, carry box after box to be posted (there were eight and could have been more except for some shortage in the finance area) as well as helping me clean this apartment to Swiss standards. He came to school when we had sports day, where my team won!!!! He has been nothing but supportive and I am sure it can be difficult, for as sure as I am happy to be making this move, leaving something you have worked hard to normalise, is never easy.
There are more people to leave and as one of my students parents hugged me tight before bidding me one more farewell, I thought to myself, she’s done this too. She’s left a life and started over and she knows what it’s all about. Even though it is new and exciting, it’s still new. And I have done it SO many times. But everytime I have done it before, it was ALONE.
For the first time in over six years I am doing it with someone. The love of my life. For the first time in six years I am moving to a land where the main language is English. And perhaps, we will stay awhile.
There is never enough room in the boxes or the bags. But leaving things behind isn’t much of an issue anymore. Let go. Go on.
Well, it has finally arrived. The heat is ON. And it feels good.
Memories from summers past come rushing back to me as the cool morning breeze ruffles my skirt against my knees on my walk to work. I recall mornings waiting for the bus in Bangkok or walking out to our car – ‘Sunshine’ – on Saipan. There is a very brief moment of crispness in the tropics and mostly it involves the memory of air-conditioning when stepping into the thick, heavy, wetness of the tropical air. But in the “winter” months, it is cooler in the mornings and one can imagine that it will last throughout the day. One can imagine.
I can ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over the Autumn colours or the Spring buds, but there is nothing quite like Summer that brings a smile of contentment to my face. Even when sweat drips in the most uncomfortable, hidden places. I love it. I love the heat. And I love all the memories associated with it, all the way back to the days of middle school when I waited in line for school to start in my cool, new summer clothes. The temperature didn’t get hot until lunch time, after the sun had risen high into the sky. Then the evenings brought campfires and sweatshirts with fireflies dancing around the midnight trees. That was later in life. The college years, with treks and gatherings at the dunes. Oh, ode to Michigan summers.
They seem quite similar to Swiss summers, at least so far. One of my students tried to argue with me that it wasn’t summer yet. He’s right. Technically, it begins next week. But the temperature? It’s all summer. Thirty-two degrees celsius, that’s about eighty-six degrees in fahrenheit. The sun shines high. The heat traps into the third floor classroom of the old victorian building that I spend most of my day in. The temperature up there has been compared to the tropics by a teacher who had my classroom in previous years. One difference, in the tropics, we have something called air-conditioning. Here? Oh, there are windows that you can’t really open because you are on the third floor and there are no screens. Needless to say, my energy levels have been very low. But I still love the heat. Perhaps, just not to work in it.
I recall the day the electricity went out in Bangkok. Our students were lying on the cold, tiled floor. Doing nothing much but trying to conserve energy and create as little body heat as possible so as not to melt into the floor. It was even difficult to breath and we tried not to have too much fun, for laughter caused pockets of warm air to rise from our chests and burst into the air. It was a day we would never forget. But, of course, we survived. It may have only lasted an hour but seems like days. The power did come back on. We didn’t have to evacuate the building due to overheating, although there had been discussion of going home early. Instead, the electricity resumed and we blasted that air-con as high as it would go.
It’s no wonder I have many memories associated with summertime temperatures. I lived in tropical weather for four years and then some with all that travelling in SEAsia. Switzerland weather is similar to Michigan except for the fact that the winters are greyer with less snow (I do NOT live in the mountains). I still cringe when I see pictures of the students in the hallway with their winter gear on while they played outside at recess. How did I ever survive?
Well, survive, I did and a week from Sunday, I will be moving to London with Ali for good. We will be living in our first new apartment together in London. All by ourselves. But until then, I am still counting the hours (only 49 until Monday) when he will arrive (after school on Monday). It’s been a few weeks, but this time, we leave together. So, packing up and moving on out is a welcome change. Very welcome indeed. But busy none the less.
Oh yes. I love a good groove. Shaking my hips, rolling my head back and with a smile on may face, content and happy. The love of my life grooving behind me, arms around me. Our hands reach into the air and we clap them until they are raw. I smile up at the members of the band on stage, the lead singer. The guitarists. I think he saw my smile. Maybe. I hope so. Just because I want them to know how much fun I am having because their music ROCKS OUT.
Ali and I spent Saturday in Zurich. Shopping for shoes and sitting by the lake with our feet dangled over the concrete edge not far from the pier. Sipping wine and sharing exquisite cheese and bread while the swans tried to get in on our picnic to no success. We discussed all the things that I miss having him here to discuss and had our fair fits of laughter too. The sun kissed our noses and left its marks on my shoulders as well. It felt good to wear a summer sundress again.
We wound our way around one side of the lake and through a wooded path into the side streets of Zurich until we located the river and an overpacked bar where I had hoped we would share an intimate drink. Instead we ventured to one across the road and had some more wine at picnic tables near the canal instead. After discussing wedding plans and coming up with more new ideas, we decided we needed to head in the direction of the concert.
The dark grey clouds rolled in and we headed out for the journey to Volkhaus on an unknown path. Thunder rolled and the sky opened up, rain hit our legs sideways and the one umbrella between us wasn’t as helpful as we’d hoped. We took refuge in a locked doorway to a warehouse long closed and waited. It was nice to cuddle in the corner and listen to the thunder above us like a blanket that had long been packed away. It reminded me of a Michigan summer thunderstorm. And we were happy.
When the rain slowed to a shower after the downpour, we kicked up our heals and headed back into the rain. We ran this way and that way, the soaked map closed tight, crumpled in my right hand, still guiding us. After a quick falafel at a kebab shop we found ourselves nearly at the doorsteps to our destination. Folks of all kinds milled about as we tried to find the correct entrance for our big event.
Once we found it, hands linked together, we waded our way through the crowd and made it all the way up to the front of the stage. We stayed there, dancing and happy for the next three hours. While Iron and Wine, Calexico and Salvador Duran took to the stage. Playing on their own. Playing together. Celebrating life, love, music, poety, oh and just rockin. Trumpets. Guitars. Accordian. Harmonica. Violin. Drums. Beats. Beautiful voices.
To get an idea of how the concert went, visit npr’s all songs considered archives. My heart and soul are bursting with joy and happiness from this show. There’s really no other way for me to explain it.
this post has been cross posted with my arts oriented blog, ambrosia.
Since the sun has re-entered my life again, I bask in its glow in the late afternoon or early evening every day with a walk. The past few days I have also been able to sit down and write thoughts sometimes gathered while on one of my walks. Today, I mostly listened to Morcheeba, stopping every so often to take pictures. Today’s walk was a shorter one, there are two exciting routes that I go and when ali arrives we will really venture out and walk the 3km to the Reine Falls. Wahhoo. But for now, I stick closer to home. I kind of felt like I could keep on walking but I had already done my circle and somehow I was already tuckered out. Perhaps the after effect of spending the afternoon sorting through pictures on my computer. Perhaps the Sunday lazy day syndrome. Perhaps not. No need really to speculate.
I also printed up the picture of my dress this afternoon. Yes, I found it. The Wedding Dress. It has been ordered. Direct from the designer in NYC. Vera Wang. The maids line, of course. Do you think I would pay for a bridal dress?! It’s so hard to order something that I won’t get to even see or touch until August! So I thought I could look at it while working on my computer and dream up accessories to shop for after its arrival. So, yes, another check off the list. I won’t be posting a picture of it, so if you so require a sneak peak, then email me and I can send you an email with a picture.
I still have some things to do this evening. Like study French for the first time in weeks for my lesson tomorrow afternoon. Like create some piece of art for my aftershcool art club tomorrow afternoon. Like mending the pile of clothing items that just keeps growing. Like making an attempt to finish the book I am reading. Like speaking with ali before he heads into town to catch a film at the Iraqi film festival before heading in to work. Oh, the things I have left to do this evening. Fabulous.
And I leave you with some photos from my walk this afternoon. Yes, it’s beautiful. Now why don’t you come and join me!
Dandelions
Three Blind Mice Sculpture in the Rheine, view of Schaffhausen
Branched Frame, slight view to the entrance to my street in buildings across the river
Shining Through, Guiding LightThis is without a doubt the loneliest place I have lived. It really is true, all those cards that say “home is where the heart is” or “life is what you make of it” or “it’s not where you live but who lives near you.” Ok, maybe I made the last one up, but I know there was a Hallmark greeting about being happy because of the people in your life, not just because you live in a kewl flat in a foreign country that may or may not be exotic, depending on who’s deciding. And I can tell you, it’s true. Thank God I have wonderful friends and family in my life, even if I never get to see them. This provides solace at times, other times, tears.
This week I also discovered that sunshine can actually encourage loneliness. Despite being absolutely estatic about the warm weather decending upon Schaffhausen, it meant that I was able to spend a lot of time outside, alone. This occurred to me as I walked through town and faced many happy couples and families all eating icecream together and laughing and smiling at their togetherness. I tried to join in with my icecream cone on a bench, but really just felt like I was in a glass bowl looking out at a world in which I didn’t belong.
There are many types of loneliness. And generally it hits at different times in different waves. It’s always a let down after I have been surrounded by love, emotionally and physically (I really need hugs daily and I just don’t get them here), to return to a place where a void in this area of my life exists. It’s an adjustment persay. Week three alone here is more of a pining for friendship and love, not the loss and yearning I feel right after being surrounded by it, and of course, by ali. The true love.
There are things that helps these feelings subside. Yes, the fact that I do have love in my life, family and friends and a bright future ahead. But also, we cannot forget skype. Thank goodness for skype. I was able to speak with and see my nephew Logan this morning which was fan-tastic! These connections with my family and the long, phone date conversations with friends on the weekends do help the lonelies (those feelings of complete and utter aloneness; I call them lonelies) subside for a little while. But when you are walking near the Reine an hour before sunset and you don’t come across many on your path, because they are all having dinner with their loved ones and getting ready to go out for the night — after all, it’s a SATURDAY night — the lonelies set in again. Yes indeedy.
I read a lot. I write some — never enough — and I think way too much. And it will all change in about seven weeks. When I move to London. To be with ali. My fiance. My future husband. Life is amazing. And it keeps moving forward. With or without the lonelies.
Fleshy. Soft. Tart. Sweet. Succulent. Tiny, hard seeds. Crushed, blood red on fingertips. Cool. Warm. Delicate. Piled together in a sweaty embrace. Raspberries in summertime.
I bought a small carton of raspberries at the supermarket this week while the shopping basket I carried on my right arm was nearly toppling with produce and other food to fill my bare shelves after a two week holiday. The sunshine from when I first arrived back in August had returned, the glow of the summer on its way warming my body deep within. Their supple red curves called to me and I reached out, willing to pay the outrageous price that put them on the shelf, probably the amount my mother paid for a day of picking them in the fields a drive away from our home when I was growing up.
I recall each of us, myself and my three younger brothers, accompanying my mom and a neighbourhood friend and her children piling into our car on a crisp, cool summer morning to try to get as many baskets full before the noon sun rose high above our heads and the sweat dripped down our backs. We would sneak raspberries, but never too many, for the smaller they were, the longer it took to fill up our baskets and we were not leaving until they were full. How else would you make jam?
We did this with strawberries too. In fact, the family picking trips were more often for strawberries than raspberries, just because of the fact that they were bigger and the baskets were easier to fill, at least that’s what I thought. Thinking back, I am sure it had something to do with the thorny bushes, and the scratches which donned our bare legs after a morning of picking.
Then there were wild raspberries. Finding the hidden treasure, buried deep within the heart of the great green bushes. Tackling the pickers and getting one, large, juicy raspberry was worth all the scratches and scrapes. We would giggle and help each other reach new heights to get as many as we could. Sometimes we’d get over ambitious and imagine picking enough for some jam, instead we would eat them all and return with raspberry stained hands, shirts and shorts.
The next morning we made our way back to the raspberry treasure during our fantasy hike, in hopes that overnight, the tough green raspberries from the morning before had ripened into the life giving red ones that we had devoured then. Sometimes they had and sometimes we had to wait until the next day and the next day. But we always returned.
When I arrive home from the supermarket, arms exhausted from carrying two overflowing bags, I set them onto the counter and began to unload them. When I came to the raspberries, I immediately popped one in my mouth. Closed my eyes. And tasted it. Suddenly, the sun was warming my face and my little brother was pulling on my shorts to have me pick him up so he could reach one off the top of the bush above me.
Summertime had arrived.
has ended.
I’m back in Switzerland. I’m back at work. The sun is shining and I think Spring has arrived. Both Magnolia trees are in full bloom on campus, their hand-sized petals falling slowly to the ground, making cake icing for the school children baking mud pies in the sun for dessert.
Again, I await ali’s arrival in another week and the sunshine is complete. Oh how do we do it, all this time apart? But we had a wonderful time in London while I was on Spring Break, thus the lack of posts. And the time apart, just eight more weeks of school (who’s counting?) and I’m London bound on a more permanent level.
Oh we entertained ourselves, made accomplishments, explored, planned our wedding…I started a list of blog titles in my head and when I finally found my way to the computer, they didn’t come forth so easily. I’ve just dried off from the bath, where I had another relaxing, soul saving evening with my thoughts swirling in my mind and slipping from my skin into the hot water, taking them from me to revisit later. Which I will.
Because, remember, I’m back in Switzerland. And what we have here, is a lot of time to think. And write.
Finally posted the pictures from our weekend in the Swiss Mountains in February on my flickr account. Check it out because hopefully this will be the last of the snow that we all see for the season! So, Spring, bring it.
SidewaysI had a dream the other night that woke me feeling covered in spiders. As my eyelids peeled open to face the new day, I had the memory of spiders surrounding me. Their tiny legs crawling over me. As my eyes continued to adjust to the sunlight peeking through my curtains, I realised there were no spiders around and the ground was safe to walk on. I pulled back my comforter and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, first the right, then the left. Placing each foot in my half- strategically placed slippers. I reached towards the end of my bed for my robe and wrapped myself in it before blindly going into the kitchen to put the kettle on for coffee, spiders still dancing somewhere in my subconscious, but not clearly understanding why.
I find spiders fascinating. I love looking at them. I once stared so closely at a tarantula in New Mexico that the man watering his garden nearby found the need to warn me not to get to close because ‘these big furry arachnids are known to jump onto their prey.’ I imagined it covering my face in a not so friendly embrace and I slowly stood up, backing away, while still keeping him in a safe distance for viewing. The man also said that the male tarantulas tend to come out at dusk for their evening stroll, looking for a drink in the water trailing down into the streets, left over from newly watered lawns. He said they were getting themselves killed, run over by cars. The females tended to search for water at a time that cars driving by wouldn’t run them over. I’m not sure what time of the day or night this might be. I cannot recall.
I do recall the way a tarantula walks. His legs lift and crinkle and they slowly take turns unfolding with each step. It’s difficult to describe without putting my hand on the table and unfolding my fingers on their way over to you. Sure, it sounds creepy. But I found it very engaging.
I don’t tend to spend much of my free time with spiders. And as much as I am taken in by them, I also don’t want to imagine them crawling into any of my orifices during the night while I am sleeping. I don’t like imagining them crawling down my spine and I would be sure to jump if one landed on me or if I woke to find one on the pillow as my neighbour. I especially don’t like the poisonous kind, in which I grew up hearing about. The Black Widow. The Brown Recluse. The ones I can’t name that created webs which glittered with diamonds in the morning dew on Saipan Island that were sure to be the end of me if they were ever to find their way close to my skin.
During my morning walks to school I look up at the fluorescent lights guiding my way through the tunnels under the streets, leading to the river. They have been empty since the cold weather set in, months ago. They used to be the background to an underworld of arachnids. Each spider’s web, a small community sprawled from one corner to the next. Their shadows dancing on the walls of the tunnel when the wind came through for a visit. At first I was startled by them and the chance that they might decide to hitch a ride to work with me in the morning. But then I began to find myself walking slowly through the tunnel as I watched their habits. Sometimes I had the rare opportunity to see other insects stuck in their web, then there was the rare occasion that I would spot a spider moving towards its’ prey, about to devour it.
I began to find solace in these creatures. They were there, by my side, when no one else was. I looked forward to seeing them. They lead a life in solitude and I had felt that I could relate to that here. Once winter hit and the snow and icy cold winds took over, the spiders went into hiding. I don’t know where they went and I didn’t know when they would be back. But on that morning that the spiders visited me in my dreams, I looked up as I walked quickly through the tunnel on my way to school. Tiny spiders were inching out and building their webs into florescent villages once again.
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