Floored

Dear soon-to-be-moving friend,

When I was a child growing up in America, strangers would arrive from England claiming to be family. After a week or two they'd actually be able to convince me that they were fun and friendly, and then we'd inevitably wind up at the airport where my new best friends would hug me and leave. I was the worst at these goodbyes. I cried and cried and hated the fact that they'd even come in the first place because it was so hard to say goodbye.

And now, I am, once again, the one who is being left behind. You're moving away and that is hard for you. I know you have a lot of people and places to say goodbye to, a lot of packing and planning to do, but even though I only have to say goodbye to you, I'm finding it really hard to let go and grieve. Simply put, I just don't want to.

The truth is, when I first arrived you are what made my transition to life here comfortable. It's like my life was a cold room and you were the warm rug beneath my feet, to make me even want to stay, to make me feel at home, to give me something to stand on. Then, all of a sudden, you're leaving and that rug has been yanked from beneath my feet so suddenly that I'm lying flat on my back struggling to breathe, trying to come to terms with the fact that the floor is cold and hard and I have to figure out how to get up and keep on going without you here.

You're moving because of good things, you're going back to family, job, familiar culture and language. Of course you'll be different than before, seasoned with something a little bit foreign, changed by unexpected events and stronger for having left in the first place. And it doesn't help that I've known for a long time that this was coming, in fact it has hung over my head for so long without me even realizing that it was a cloud I lived under. It doesn't matter that I've had time to adjust to what might be after you leave. You're still leaving and it still hurts.

If I'm really honest, I'm panicking that I won't know what to do without you. It's not as though I need you to make me who I am, but you did such a good job of accepting me and supporting me and challenging me to be a better me, that I'm worried that instead of moving forward, I'll just stop. I'll freeze in place, or maybe no one will ever know that I'm still lying on the floor, no one will be there to pull me up and set me on my feet again.

And lying here, with the wind knocked out of me, I'm wishing with all my heart that I could hold on to you and keep you here. I'm struggling to let you go with joy. I can't help but think of all the things you've taught me, all the nice meals you've made me, all the ways you've cared for me, all the fun times we've shared together, all the hard times we've survived together, all the many coffees you've "shouted" me to and even the tears we've shared. I see each moment that you were there for me and it hurts that we're having to leave them behind. 

Please, bear with me while I work on letting you go, on giving you up, on saying goodbye. Please stay in contact with me even from the other side of the world. Please still ask me hard questions, share funny jokes, give me advice, challenge me to be open and honest, send me a WhatsApp…be my friend. I know it won’t be exactly the same. I know it's so much harder when we can't see each other face to face. But let's use Skype and Google Hangout and FaceTime until our devices' batteries are dead. Until we can one day see each other again...

My soon-to-be-moving friend, I want to thank you for everything. I even want to thank you for the times you annoyed me and the times when you made me do things I didn't want to do. I thank you for being real with me even when it was hard. I want to thank you most of all for laughing with me when there was really nothing to laugh about.

To all my other friends, I'm sorry if I don't immediately jump off the floor, I'm taking one breath at a time down here, feel free to join me and just hold my hand...I'll let you know when I'm ready for you to pull me to my feet again. 

Almost exactly four years ago, it was my turn to do the leaving, to say goodbye to family and friends, to get on the airplane and to fly away. I was flying to meet you in person for the very first time and I was pretty sure we would like each other, but I was also understandably nervous. I never expected us to be like family and to have to one day say goodbye and to have it be so very very hard.

Recently, I've been imagining a café (I'm not sure where) that serves really good coffee, although the taste hardly matters, because you and I are there together and it's as if we've never been apart. We talk and laugh about people we know and things we've done, and I can't help but be grateful that I have a friend like you.

So, you're moving away which feels like you're moving on, but I know that this is simply not true. I'm thinking of all the people who get to have you back, all the people you still get to meet and all the people you will help to make feel at home, just as you've done for me. How lucky they are, how glad I am for them. And I'd like to think that maybe your heart is big enough to welcome them all in, because you have a little piece of mine to carry with you.

I want to wish you all the best in your move. I want you to know that you have a very special place in my heart and when I stand on rugs, I think of you.

From the bottom of my heart (and the floor),

Your friend

An Open Letter

Dear soon-to-be-married friend*,

I’m so excited for your upcoming marriage! I’m so glad that you’ve picked out just the right color scheme for your flowers, table settings, bridesmaid dresses, invitations and decorations. It’s so wonderful that you booked the ideal venue, that your honeymoon is on a warm tropical island, that your photographer is giving you a discount on the deluxe package…I can remember when you and your significant other first started going out and it seems like it was just yesterday you were telling me you’d finally decided to make it Facebook official. It’s amazing how things work out, right?

I’m seriously so thrilled, so excited, so wonderfully pleased….

OK, I’m sorry, but I need to be real for a moment. Because you’re such a good friend and I can’t keep up this mask of joy anymore. 

While you are wedding planning and dreaming of your new life as a couple, I’m quietly grieving the loss of a friendship. Not because I don’t think we won’t be friends in the future, but because the very nature of our friendship is about to change dramatically. Your friendship, for better or worse, now comes with strings attached. Of course I want you to take time to grow as a couple, to settle into your marriage, to readjust to life together, but at the same time, I’m selfishly wishing that I didn’t have to share you, that I could follow you into “couplehood” just so we could stay on the same level, lifestage and marital status.

The truth is that while you are going from single to married, I am going from your friend to your “single” friend. And when you’re in a couple, that’s a hard relationship to maintain. It doesn’t mean it can’t be done, but it’s going to take awhile to figure it out and it will never be quite the same.

So, if I don’t jump for joy at every little wedding bell, it’s because I’m dealing with the fact that you’re marrying your best friend which means I am not, nor ever will be again, your best friend. I’m left behind because of good things; because you’re in love, because you’ve found the one, because you’re ready to take the plunge…the reality is that your life is moving forward rapidly, but I feel like mine as I knew it, has suddenly ended.

And if I really think about it, I’m jealous. I’m jealous of your soon-to-be-spouse because they get to have you and I’m jealous of you because you may not know what your future holds but you know who you’re going to be WITH. ‘Til death do you part.

So, while the wedding for you will be a celebration of your love and commitment. For me, it will be a reminder of what I am losing, of what I don’t have and what I will not have once the “I do”s are done and the cake is cut.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve had years to prepare for this reality, it still hurts. It still feels like I’m missing out, I’m losing, I’m somehow suddenly less…

I really really want to be happy for you, but I don’t want to lie to you, my soon-to-be-married friend. I am actually really, really devastatingly sad. I feel abandoned, alone and terribly empty when I look at the future. So, if my smile is a little forced, if my laughter is a little faked, if my happiness is just a façade, that’s because I don’t want you to know just how sad I am. I don’t want to ruin your perfect day, the beginning of your new life. I’m struggling to let you go, even though I know it’s healthy for you to move on. I treasure our friendship and all that it has taught me.

I guess what I’m saying is, life is a rollercoaster sometimes. You and I used to be in the same carriage riding the highs and lows together. But somewhere along the ride, you got out and got into someone else’s carriage. And now you and that person are at the peak of the ride, but my carriage is still down in the valley. We’re still on the same ride, still in each others’ lives, but I’m in a different carriage, a different view and from where I’m sitting, you look impossibly far away and happy, with your hands in the air, grinning from ear to ear. I’m hoping I get to where you are at some point, but right now the ride is not so fun. It’s bumpy and noisy and there’s no one to scream next to.

Please, bear with me while I work on letting you go, on giving you up, on letting our friendship evolve and change to include your other half and your new marriage. Please invite me to be a part of your life and just excuse me if I don’t know quite what to do or say. Please still ask me hard questions, share funny jokes, give me advice, challenge me to be open and honest, send me a text, ask me for dinner…be my friend. I know it won’t be exactly the same. I know your spouse will be involved. But give me a chance to love them too, give me a chance to see them the way you do, as someone incredibly special and wonderful.

After all, they must be pretty freaking amazing because you chose them and at some point you also chose me. I cannot doubt your impeccable taste! I’m sorry for the times my sadness has come across as disapproval or unsupportive. I’m still dealing with the fact that I’m selfish, that I need to mature enough to think of what is good for you and not just good for me. And I need to do some of that maturing now without you. L

If you’ve made it this far, my soon-to-be-married friend, I thank you for your time and patience. Thank you for listening. Thanks for allowing me to be me with you even when it’s messy and complicated.

I want to wish you a very blessed wedding day and a wonderful marriage.

Sincerely,

Your friend

(if you’ll still have me)

*Disclaimer: This letter is not directed at any specific person, but rather is a result of some raw and real emotions. 

Carving Pumpkins at iCafé

An important first step at any icafé is preparation...

Then it's important to demonstrate:

After that, it's simply a matter of letting everyone just get on with it:

Finally, be sure to get some cool photos of the pumpkins:

A nice group photo can never hurt:

And a goofy team photo is also a good idea:

Don't forget to thank your photographer!

Going to the theatre: a cultural experience

For our first project in Discours écrits et oraux 2 (DEO2), we read a play in French called the Old Woman's Visit. It was originally written in German and is set in German-speaking Switzerland. It was actually quite funny. Essentially, there is this rundown little town that is anticipating the arrival of a billionare-ess. The mayor, pastor, policeman and other townspeople all have these grand plans for how they are going to try to persuade her to give them the money they need to rebuild their town and restart their industries. When the old lady arrives (with servants and 7th husband in tow) she doesn't take much convincing. She tells the town she intends to give them 100 billion (50 for the town and 50 to be divided amongst the inhabitants.) However she has one condition: justice.  The townspeople must kill the grocery store owner, her former lover, who, when they were younger, got her pregnant and then hired witnesses to say they'd also slept with her so he didn't have to marry her. So the rest of the play is basically the townspeople wrestling with not wanting to kill the man but also really wanting the money. It's kind of a critique of people and of justice but is also a comedy and there are some very hilarious scenes. 

Going to see the play was very different from reading it. It was at a theatre in Malley, near Lausanne, in a former industrial building (the street name literally meant: Gas Factory Path). In the dark, it was quite a challenge for my classmates and I to find it. If it hadn't been for some passing car headlights, I'm not sure we would have ever seen the sign that eventually led us to arrive at the correct building. The TKM (Théatre Kléber-Méleau) was actually pretty small and packed. Our class had great seats about half way up, but no one had paid attention to the reserved signs to we had to tell the people that they were for our class. With all the people, it quickly became very warm and I was glad I'd left my jacket on the coat rack. 

The strangest thing about The Old Woman's Visit, was the fact that all of the characters wore these ugly masks. (see below) They also had a smaller cast than the play called for so some characters were completely eliminated, which I think also took out some of the humour of the piece. The backgrounds and props were also pretty basic compared to what I had imagined and even having read the play, the people spoke quickly and it was sometimes hard to understand what they'd said. One thing that made me laugh is when the people are searching for the old lady's panther, which has escaped, they played a few bars of The Pink Panther Theme. 

All in all, it wasn't very shocking at the end to find out that a man had played the old woman and a woman had played the mayor because the whole thing was just a bit ridiculous. I much preferred the written play to the play we saw performed. This play has had quite a lot of success and been translated into many languages and I wonder if depending on the culture in which it is performed, aspects of the performance change. (Would a version of this play in England have masks, for example?)

Kuzco Kat

My roommate and I went to Geneva on a sunny day in early September to get our cat, Kuzco. He had grown quite a lot since the last time we had seen him at around 6 weeks. And, at four months, he looked much more like an adult cat. We were thus lulled into the false sense that he was mature.

Having a kitten, is a bit like having a child. He is always wanting food, attention, or to be played with. He sleeps when you're awake and then bounces off the walls when you're trying to sleep. He thinks your world revolves around him. And yet, you love him anyways. Especially when he's all curled up asleep or does something particularly cute.

Kuzco is fascinated by water, and it's practically impossible to take a shower or to go to the toilet without him wanting to come in and see what's happening. We have a bidet in our bathroom and this has basically become Kuzco's personal water entertainment center. Check out the video below:

We are also trying to convince Kuzco to be a lap cat and that isn't going very well. He doesn't seem to think it's as comfortable as the couch right next to you. We also have to stop him from eating our hair sometimes and I find it particularly annoying if he bites my toes in the morning to encourage me to get up and feed him!

For the most part, Kuzco is an indoor cat, although we do let him out on the balcony sometimes. He's grown a lot in the past month and we are confident he's going to be a big cat!

at 4 months, the day we brought him home

Sleepy kitty

"This is my bed."

On the balcony

C'est la vie

If you're reading this, native English speaker, you are the crème de la crème, you never make a faux pas. I envy you your joie de vivre and the fact that your savior-faire has never been put in question. You speak English par excellence and tête-à-têtes with friends are never so difficult as needing to be ended by a coup de grâce. Au contraire, you have carte blanche to say whatever you wish, because you're a native English speaker, n'est-ce pas? The pièce de résistance is that speaking English is very à la mode and will make you friends en masse.

I wrote the above paragraph because going to classes here is sometimes a little bit like that but in reverse. You hear: françaisfrançais françaisfrançais françaisfrançais brainstorming françaisfrançaisfrançais input français. These days, there is so much English in French that I sometimes wonder if the other foreigners in my class are understanding as much as I am or if they just hear: françaisfrançais français wosdighaosdb français. Anyways, here are just a few musings from various different classes these past two weeks. 

***

L'analyse de la bande dessinée franco-belge

This class is about analyzing French/Belgian comic strips, an important element of Francophone culture, and hence why it's an option for us foreigners to take as a way to better understand the Francophones around us. The professor has far too much content and enthusiasm to fit into an hour-and-a-half lecture, so he seems to be talking at twice the speed as the other French-as-a-Foreign-Language teachers. He informs us that the course is part of an inter-disiplinary option for the entire faculty so he asks if there are any students among us who are native French speakers. When two people raise their hands, he asks if they are comic book fans. "You mustn't hesitate to say that you are passionate about comics!" he encourages them. It occurred to me that it is probably one of the only places where they were ever going to be validated for loving comics, and the professor endeavored to show us in the rest of the lesson just how valuable and valid the art of comics really is. After all, it has a history, it has creativity, it has been around for longer than you would have expected, and it isn't just aimed at children. (Although most comics are directed toward a male audience.) But, he made the point that we often don't think something is a serious subject until it has been studied at universities and how many classes on comics do you know about? Once, film also wasn't considered a "serious" subject, although nowadays it is studied in lots of academic institutions and there are film schools all over the place. Ever heard of a comic book school? It's not like I'm a big comic book reader or anything, but I do enjoy a lot of the films that are based off of them and at the crossroads of cinema/art history/literature you will find comics. 

Seminare de littérature

Ah, the familiar subject of literature! Reading and reading and reading and then writing and analyzing. Discussing in class about literary techniques, and historical context, and groundbreaking stories. Falling in love with fictional characters and referring to authors as your bffs. Yup, I love it all.  Wait, you want me to read three French novels and write two 15 page papers...in French? Umm, help? 

It is abundantly clear that Professor B doesn't think much of the stuffy little classroom he's been assigned for our lit seminar. Or maybe I'm mistaken and his exclamation as he walked into class was more about the fact that out of the nine students in the class there is only one guy. After laying out his expectations for the class he launches into a little bit of a history lesson to give the context for the eighteenth century novel which is what we will spend the year learning about. He breaks down Descartes' entire Discours de la méthode without referencing notes and occasionally scribbling something on the white board. He talks about Montesquieu's Lettres persanes, the first novel we will be reading, as though he can hardly wait to start re-reading it and yet in the same breath warns us that it isn't easy and we should start tackling it as soon as possible. His obvious knowledge and passion for French lit is a little intimidating and just a tad contagious so that by the end of the lesson I'm thinking I can probably handle it. I haven't cracked open the book yet though so maybe I'll live to regret it...

Discours écrits et oraux 2

We generally refer to this class as DEO2 and it is essentially a language class where you practice reading and writing and presenting in French. Our professor is a young guy who is (unlike the professor I had for DEO1) extremely organized. Since he teaches another class as well, those of us in the diploma have him for 3 classes a week. He learns our names at an astonishing rate, and it takes him only one class to determine that I'm an English speaker. (This may have been helped by the fact that I was speaking in English to British girl in my class...) Our first project for the class consists of reading a 160 page play called The Old Woman's Visit. I spend a good chunk of my Saturday reading it and looking up each French word I didn't know. Vamper for example is: to seduce in the manner of a vampire, a word which would probably have been incredibly useful for Stephanie Meyer and perhaps is used in the French translations? It is a surprisingly funny and very readable little story that I actually found quite enjoyable. In about two weeks I'll have to do an oral presentation on it.

Atelier d'écriture scientifique
This class is a writing workshop. Finally, we are going to learn the nitty gritty little tricks to produce lovely academic writings. Things that have nasty words like thesis, argument, bibliography and footnote attached it it. I can't say that I'm particularly thrilled about the subject matter of this class although I do think it will be very useful. At the moment I'm mostly distracted by the fact that my professor looks rather like a female version of Geoffrey Rush...

Have you done your homework yet, mate?

Shall we sally forth to the chalet?

At the beginning of this semester, the GBU had a training camp in the mountains at, you guessed it, a chalet! I'd never been to this particular one before but it was in the canton of Neuchâtel and took just under 2 hours from Lausanne to get there. (I was lucky enough to go by car.) After winding up narrow roads and through charming little villages we arrived at the chalet with a charming view of fields and mountains and...more chalets!

The weekend was designed for French-speakers so when two Finns came along from Geneva without much French between them, I translated for them for most of Saturday and another student translated for them Sunday. This required quite a bit of concentration when the different session leaders spoke particularly quickly. I wasn't doing any kind of formal translation so it was mostly just summarizing the main points of what the person had just said in whispers to the Finns beside me.

The main speakers for the weekend were a young French couple who had written a book designed as a kind of handbook for Christian students. They came with their two kids, a 13 month old and a one month old. This meant that during pretty much every session one or other of them was wearing the baby and the wife would sometimes pull out a bottle, stick it in the baby's mouth and continue talking! They were pretty impressive. Their parenting skills aside, their content was also really great and engaging. I struggled to keep up sometimes since they spoke super fast!

One of the Swiss staff did a session on sharing your faith and her main point was to find the ways in which the gospel connects to our culture. She incorporated secular music videos and films to illustrate how it would be easy to get a conversation going, to identify what are the problems we agree with and how the Bible offers different solutions. Even if you don't speak French you can check out below a music video by the popular Belgian artist Stromae that she used as one of the examples. In it, Stromae asks a lot of questions about who is God? And why doesn't he answer? His video crosses a church service with a rock concert and the idea is that instead of worshipping God he worships music.

All in all, it was a pretty cool weekend and I'm glad that I went. I think everyone learned a lot and went away feeling encouraged.