Swiss Miss

Lausanne, Switzerland.

It's a grey day, drizzly, the kind that you can be thankful for, if you were looking for an excuse to stay in. I have a big excerpt due tomorrow, for my writing class that I'm taking in San Francisco, and I was afraid I'd feel guilty for being in Switzerland, having never been, and not even inclined to walk around.

From my perch on the big bed, I see all sorts of houses everywhere. Some are plain, concrete and stucco looking, bearing no resemblance to the marvelous and historic looking houses we saw yesterday in the small towns in champagne-country as we drove through France. The kind with high arched windows, strong wooden shutters, ornate stonework, lined behind cobblestoned streets. But some of the houses in my view are more interesting- with peaked tile roofs and billowing chimneys. We chose a room that faces the street, instead of the more expensive one, which was significantly smaller and had bad feng shui, but which faced the lake.

Taking a break from my writing, I walked down to the lake. I like being in countries where I don't speak the language, I feel like I get to disappear a bit, and become half human, half ghost. I feel free of normal societal participation. This is a sensation I really enjoy.

Approaching the lake.... this lake is as big as a sea!
Mist rises off the water and the blue is almost a grey. A few gulls swoop listlessly and a flock of geese pass, making a noise unlike anything I've ever heard. They didn't sound like other geese, their sound was a rather high-pitched whirring, and made me wonder if it was not in fact the sound of their wings rotating, rather than a noise coming from their long throats.
Mountains rose ever so faintly in the back of the bluegrey skyscape. Snow caps.

I crouched down to collect rocks. I was mesmerized by their lines, some looked like they had the pattern of bamboo etched in them like a lithograph, others were wrapped in perfect stripes. I collected as many rocks as I could carry, which was not many, as I was very hungry, and feeling weak.

I dreaded buying something to eat. I would even say I was despairing just a little bit. Not because I am nervous about speaking bad French (which I am), but because after only a couple of days in Europe, I am already sick of bread, ham, and cheese. Every time I take a bite I think of my heart getting thick and clumsy. I found a sushi place!

They were speaking Cantonese!

So I say, Hey, you're speaking Cantonese! And then we proceed, in this Chinese tongue, to discuss the brief trajectory of my immediate life story, as well as telling them my mom is from Hong Kong, that I am just here traveling, they tell me, enjoy your lunch, and other things that just don't translate easily into English (eat slowly, walk slowly).

And I walk back to the hotel feeling just a little bit less out of place, and loving the diaspora.