Village festivals or,

There’s always fun to be found

Finally, I was in the mountains for one of the events: a village neighbourhood festival.

Weather was supposed to be wet and drizzly, but some mountains sprite was watching out and it was wonderful, at least for the lunch and afternoon.

From a few tables in front of wooden chalets to tented allies and hundreds of participants, it has grown exponentially.

One could buy either grilled chicken with roasted potatoes and salad or portions of raclette (cheese melted under a special form then scraped into the plate, accompanied by potatoes, pickles and pickled onions), or for those willing to let out a button or two: both! Red and white wines along with beer, water and sodas were for sale as well.

Accompanied to the tune of alphorns and accordions, there was a photo game with prizes to be won (thanks to all my years here and the many paths that I have taken, I knew where one was and got lucky enough to collect that prize – a bottle of wine, so we have our evenings drink already!). A couple of young girls sold soaps, bracelets (made to order thank you very much), homemade cards and even a piece of artwork made from seashells. Very enterprising, I bought soap and a bracelet.  On a more adult level, there was a table of books about the local area in varying subjects, including in the local dialect along with CDs of the spoken legends and stories of this particular valley.  A hit-the-tin-can game was organized for the younger set and desserts along with coffee (a Nespresso machine, no less!) and tea completed the delicacies.

The evening offering was home made chalet soup: a mix of potatoes, noodles and a base that was more than delicious.

I attended with my landlord, the winter renters (who are staying with her for the weekend; I still have my flat – in the winter we reverse with me staying at the landlord’s and they in the flat) and another couple who rent on a more permanent basis.  Although this village is a small one, the participants came from many different regions and are of many different nationalities including some, who like myself, have discovered the delights of the smaller Swiss “stations” as opposed to the known ones of Gstaad, Zermatt, Verbier, St. Moritz and the like. Probably rather fitting as it was on the stage coach road, which ran in between the Valais and neighbouring Chamonix in France over the mountains.

Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Mushrooms provide proof of a (very) wet summer

We have all, at some time or other, either praised the fact that this summer has been cooler, or bemoaned the lack of sun. The fact that it is one of the wettest on record has been stated many times.

But my morning’s walk was proof that it has indeed been exceedingly wet in the Swiss alps: more mushrooms than I have ever seen, never mind that they are about two months earlier than normal.

Now if only I knew which were edible and which likely to send me to the “Happy Hunting Grounds”. I know that this won’t interest most of you, so skip it, forget to look at the pictures, etc. this one is mainly in honour of my brother-in-law, a biology teacher.

Forget the boots, “these socks are made for walking”, or

“Marathon” socks.

For my recent birthday, my family and housemates outdid themselves with many requested, unexpected, beautiful gifts.

My younger son – amongst other contributions, namely a box of my favourite chocolates - continued family tradition by also offering socks.

This can only be understood if I explain that when the boys were young, I was the sole supplier of the useful as needing to attribute the “good” presents – i.e. those they had actually asked for – to the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, the godparents etc. It wasn’t until they were both grown that I realized that they might have interesting thoughts as to what their own parents had provided in the way of gifts for Christmas and birthdays! They seem to have survived, but the tradition continues.

This year’s pair however are special: “Marathon” socks. I kid you not, these socks can actually do more things than I: they have a separate and distinct left and right (just checked to make sure that I have them on correctly); a “ToeTip“ protection; Toe protection, i.e. against blisters and chafing; “AirFlow” ankle protection; Heel protection; “AirCool” stripes. They also have a Lambertz-Nicholson Achilles protection; a traverse AirFlow channel system under the sole as well as an instep protection with an “AirVent Zone”.  All of the mentioned distinctions are patent-protected (not quite sure who is going to protect me from the socks though).

Swiss Technology, they are actually made in Italy – another great thing in our age of “made-everywhere-but-where-one-lives”.

I tell you these things can walk themselves almost. Now let’s see if they can get me to the next village or up the mountain.

Further up the mountain, or

The village is too crowded.

Summer has finally shown its colours – and none too soon.

I had purchased a season’s pass on the local cable car so put it to good use, dashing

Off for the 13:30 trip further up the mountain.

We were only three so shared a gondola and as is my want, I looked for an exchange of information. All three of us not only came from around the lake down in the valley, but also were looking for “peace and quiet” along with a lack of other humans, although I suspect that they, like myself, like people well enough normally.

We headed off in the same direction, but with staggered departures, each seeking the quiet and strength of the mountain.  Besides stopping for pictures at many points I simply stopped to listen… to the lack of everyday noises, the lack of any noise at all more than once. Above tree level, there were no birds, not even the normally ever-present crows. No wind to chase the hovering clouds, no mountain streams, no hikers for the most part. I haven’t enjoyed such total silence in a long time: it filled me with a sense of eternity, of oneness with the universe. I returned greatly strengthened.

La Creusaz, VS, Switzerland

vers La Golette

vers le Luisan

Les Marécottes, VS, Switzerland

Path signs

120 years of friendship, Independence Day and trees

So, yesterday on my birthday I actually did leave shortly after writing the blog, heading to the other side of the city (and having to go around the long way as, of course, it was SlowUp Sunday… and access on my side of the lake was totally blocked off) to pick up a dear friend who shares my birthday and continue up the lake to a lovely meal in the ever-so-Swiss village of St.Prex.

Looking around at my old friends, oops I mean my friends of long date I realized that I had met three of them the summer I returned to Europe, 41 years ago now.

The blessing of a total of over 120 years of friendship is inestimable.  They have been there as I married; as I had my two sons (one is the godmother of both sons… having been raised a Protestant, but needing a godmother for the baptisms we decided that one and the same was great); through my husband’s illness, through his death; still traveling alongside me as they too have had their ups and downs. The only thing that comes close to equalling this type of friendship is that of close family where the memory bank reaches back even further to one’s childhood, but the support and love are the same in both cases. The tears, the laughter, the flipping from one to the other in a space of hours or days: the best of all sisters!

Upon my return (again via the torturous route of all-the-way-around-the-mulberry-bush), I had several telephone conversations and skyped with son #1 as well.

He is currently in Niamey, Niger and guess what? They take my birthday as being very important: it is their Independence Day!  But not only is it their Independence Day (from France in 1960), it is also Arbor Day where they plant trees across the nation to fight against desertification.

I come a full circle – on my birthday they plant trees, some of which may end up being used for paper to create the books that I love so much. Not quite sure who to thank yet for the Kindle, but Niger just went up in my esteem.

It’s my birthday and I’ll read if I want to…

Read if I want to, read if I want to. (My generation knows the refrain: “It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to”, but hey I welcome each one – proof that I’m still having a party!

 

But back to the “it’s my birthday and I’ll read if I want to”:  I have a new kindle and already spent an hour reading the instructions then downloading a half a dozen free books. I can see that I will quickly be addicted and splitting my time in between so many classicals that I’ll never catch up. It is going to take some good willpower to turn it off, lay it aside and get on with “real” life.

Well actually maybe I’ll answer the phone, open the cards, have lunch with my friends, including one who shares my birthday; send text messages to the other two who share my birthday, check Facebook for the lovely people who will post to my wall.

I am blessed beyond measure in my family, my friends even those acquaintances on the periphery of my life

But, hopefully I’ll also read if I want to!

My multiple lives

So somehow these past few weeks have been overly full – or I have been overly lazy as

Blogging has fallen by the wayside.

One of the reasons, of course, is that I have had my older son home for 10 days, the younger has been here a few weeks longer and my housemate and husband are also in residence. The more humans I have to interact with, the less I am on my computer – living life instead of writing about it – although at other moments I was capable of doing both. Age? Interests?

This past week is a good example of my multiple lives:

Took son #1 to the airport Tuesday (having pre-celebrated my birthday with both boys the night before), waited a few hours then picked up my housemate and her husband. Wednesday went so fast that I only visited a friend. Thursday we had agreed, the housemate and I, that we would celebrate our birthdays finally, throwing in the opening of the Christmas (past or present?) gifts that her daughter had sent in June (that way the husband had a gift as well).  In our usual manner, champagne, nibbles and lots of laughter.

I got the Kindle that I had requested – thank you to both sons and housemate – somewhere I may have written a blog about how much trouble I had actually getting the mail carrier to deliver it as I wasn’t at home the first time they came! I am looking forward to peacefully getting some things on it next week when I have a wee bit more time.

Yesterday, Friday, was our National Swiss holiday and multiple lives may not even cover it!

We started the morning attending the brunch up at in the village, hosted in the grounds of the “castle” where the German Ambassador to the U.N. lives (fittingly this property was originally a brewery). He is a true ambassador in that he has made an effort to become part of the community in which he lives (something that I don’t recall any other of the ambassadors living in our village doing!). Here our volunteer firemen are the ones who arrange and serve at such events and I was glad to see that some of those young men who attended school with my sons are now following in their father’s footsteps. It is also traditional for the food itself to be served by our city administrators – a great way for the community to learn more about them as well as interact with them on a casual basis. This makes for good cohesion.

That done it was home to prepare for my traditional August 1^st party. What started approx.. 30 years ago as a way of entertaining other foreigners at loose ends in the middle of the summer has become a way of touching base informally with my friends. A way of honouring the country in which I live as well as all the diverse nationalities living in this canton.

Last nights group was no exception: Swiss from one of the German-speaking parts of the country (who feel just as “foreign” as many foreigners), a half a dozen British who grew up elsewhere (and not always in Britain), a couple of Welsh, my housemate who although born in the USA is now only Swiss, her husband, an American; a couple of Germans who came over 40 years ago; an Armenian who fled her country as a child; an Egyptian whose father was one of the nicest people I have known; another American who came to France in 1971 – and never left; another Swiss who grew up in Holland then spent many of his early working years in Kenya; his wife who is of Italian origin but also grew up in Kenya; their daughter who married a French-man and is now living in Dubai and that’s not an exhaustive list! We could have held an UN meeting (and maybe have solved the world’s problems in minutes with very little conflict).

D-Ls photo: I forgot to put the memory card in my camera so no photos of my own!

Then just after everyone had gone home and it was dark from my balcony those of us remaining in the house enjoyed fireworks from one of the neighbours (who this year made them even better and more visible by doing them off rafts in the lake) accompanied by those of a village across the lake and then as a low carpet others from various points in the distance: an explosive and colourful ending to my multiple day.