Peach Versus Coconut

I am a peach! Some that know me may agree, and some may disagree, but according to a book that I am reading, Beyond Chocolate: Understanding Swiss Culture, I come from a peach culture. You see, the peach is soft and sweet on the outside, with a tough center that is harder to penetrate. From a psychological perspective, the book explains, peach people are very outwardly friendly, calling each other by first names, chatting with strangers, making personal comments or asking personal questions, offering help or assistance without being asked to do so, and just generally more open...to a point. The hard pit on the inside is the private side of us that is reserved for the more intimate relationships with close friends and family.

Apparently the Swiss are more like coconuts. The tougher boundary is on the outside. They address each other by last names, while polite, they are not exactly friendly, they avoid personal comments or questions and feel that if you chit-chat, it is insincere. They will not assist you, even if you appear to be struggling, unless you ask for assistance. (I have seen this, it's true.) Even if you work in the same office with someone, you are their 'colleague,' not their friend. Once the outer surface has been penetrated, and you make it to 'friend' status, they are warm, loyal, life-long friends in which the relationship never needs to be questioned.

These are just generalizations, of course. There are peaches and coconuts everywhere, and plenty of hybrids. But, as a culture, I can feel the truth of this analogy as I try to build a new life here. How does a peach make it in a world full of coconuts. As I encounter coconuts on a day to day basis will my soft flesh become bruised and battered until there is nothing left but a hard pit with some faint remnants of a sweeter life? Will my thin skin toughen up enough to survive the rough exterior of the coconuts? Will I try to become a coconut, rejecting the genetics of my culture? Will I find other peaches or hybrids that are easier to rub up against? I wonder. With Geneva being, by conservative estimates, 40% foreigners, maybe we could just make a nice fruit salad. I just hope I am not the nut that suprises you when you take a bite.

Pictures

I am experimenting with adding pictures to my blog to make it more interesting. Bear with the old woman while she attempts to use modern technology!

The first picture is the bumper cars located in front of the apartment, the second is the Pâquis and the third is the Jet d'eau. All pictures were taken from my balcony.

A Welcome Trio

My husband and I walked across the street from our apartment this morning to listen to three guys playing music on the Pâquis. Musicians have been playing there each morning between 6 and 7 am since last weekend. It is an annual event that began a few years ago and lasts for the two weeks leading up the the big week long festival here in Geneva. One guy played a guitar, another a violin (and occasionally one of a couple of stringed instruments that I don't recognize.) The third guy played the harmonica and several other things...triangle, tambourine, cymbal, etc. The boardwalk in front of our apartment, and around the part of the lake that Geneva is located, will soon look like the Texas State Fair. There are Ferris wheels and other rides being set up, and lots of tents and booths for food and gift vendors. When I look outside my window, I feel like I could be a Carney! Still, if you walk out onto the Pâquis, it is free of these temporary structures.

It is hard to describe how music, especially live music, completely soaks into each and every cell in my body. I used to assume that it was the same for everyone, but have since realized that is not true. My husband couldn't care less about music, unless it's Barry White. I don't remember a time in my life when there was not music in our house. Music can move me in or out of a feeling or mood, it can be my best friend, it can allow me to feel and express thoughts and feelings that otherwise struggle for expression. It has been a soundtrack for each and every event in my life. I simply can't imagine my life without it. The acoustic set this morning was no exception. It was peaceful...and exciting at the same time. It made me happy.

The setting was absolutely amazing! The Pâquis is a jetty that protrudes out onto the middle of the lake. As I walked out onto the jetty, the rocks were covered in hundreds, maybe even thousands of delicate cobwebs frosted with the early morning dew. It was as if someone had woven a lace covering to soften the sharp edges of the rocks. The baby ducks and swans that were hatched in early spring are over half the size of their parents, but still act like silly adolescents. They would chase each other, or race across the water all at once, and have to be rounded up and scolded. The gulls occasionally squawked while the little chickadees scurried around and made sure no one left crumbs from the coffee cake a woman was selling. The clouds rolled in yesterday, and and are still heavily covering the sky. So instead of a sunrise, there was a gradual lightening of the sky. Still, the light danced across the tiny ripples covering the lake. The closer, green-covered mountains are visible through the early morning haze and clouds, while the more distant, snow-capped mountains are more illusive today. I would say it was about 70 degrees this morning. It felt a little cooler because of the breeze across the lake and the dampness of the morning. But with a tall cup of coffee and a jacket, it was perfect!

Scott sat through most of the set, but then decided to leave for work. I stayed a little longer, enjoying the sounds, sights, smells, taste and feel of the morning. As I walked back across the street to my apartment, I was filled with wonder, peace and joy. It was a welcome trio.

Entertaining...

Well, it's over. We had the first guests over and broke in the new apartment. It went relatively well. There is always the occasional and minorly significant issues: for example, we had 8 guests and only 7 matching bowls and I forgot to get sweet relish for the potato salad. But all-in-all, it was a success. Everyone was appropriately impressed with the apartment (it IS amazing.) And the food was certainly edible, and I would say that it was good. It seemed to me that fun was had by all regardless of the single light bulbs hanging by wires in each room and the lack of decorations on the walls, and the stack of boxes in the corner that have yet to be opened. It is an odd but familiar mix of people. We are forced together by circumstance. No one really has anything in common besides those that work together, and no one seemed interested in discussing work on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. So, we made small talk, enjoyed our drinks, ate a good meal, shared cookies and brownies out on the patio overlooking the lake in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and at least half of the people there were probably wishing they were somewhere else or with someone else...but happy to be at our place because the other options are not possible today.

Shopping Trolley

Today I used my shopping trolley for the first time. For a European, this would seem like a mundane statement. However, I am not European. Normally, I just walk to the corner grocery and carry my purchases home in a couple of nylon or plastic bags that I bring to the store. If you forget a bag, you can purchase a medium sized paper bag at the counter for about .30 CHF. I carry a fold up nylon bag in my purse at all times, because you never know when you might want to stop at the store on your way home from somewhere. My sister gave it to me last time she was in Texas for a visit. I immediately put it in my purse where it has remained since. I can't tell you how many .30 CHF it has saved me! Anyway, for the last 8 days, since my container has arrived with all of my things, I have been unpacking, rearranging, decorating, etc. (I now need to find a good chiropractor in Geneva.) So my husband decides it is time to have people over now that we are moved in and sort of settled. (There is not one chandelier hung or one picture on the wall yet, and the guest shower is filled with pictures and linens.) So the big day is Sunday, and I have decided to cook gumbo since I found a jar of roux in one of my kitchen boxes. I start planning a menu...gumbo, potato salad, vegetable tray, brownies, and oh, drinks...I need some cokes, beer, tonic water....holy crap! I have to CARRY all of these groceries home! No problem, I have my shopping trolley. Guess what people, the trolley isn't even close to the size of a car trunk, or a truck bed in my former case. This is going to have to be done in stages. I have three days, so today I decided to get the potatoes, onions, cokes, tonic water and a few smaller items. Tomorrow, I am going for the beer, chicken and sausage. If I am lucky, I can manage dessert as well!

An exercise in narcissism?

When I was a couple of weeks away from the big move from Texas to Geneva, my dad suggested I create a blog so he could get my perspective on the culture and attitudes in Europe. I thought to myself, "Only a parent would be interested in my thoughts on that." A couple of weeks after I arrived here, my niece, whom I love dearly, started her own blog. She suggested that it would be therapeutic. God knows that I could use a therapeutic tool, as these first weeks in Geneva have been challenging ones. I expected rough days as a normal part of the transition, but when they arrive, they are never welcome. So, I am basically starting a journal of my adventures here and doing it as if people actually might want to read it. Narcissism at it's best!