Difference

 Difference is something that we encounter everyday. We find ourselves next to people with different hygiene standards, different interests, different educational backgrounds, different jobs, different social statuses, and many more differences that make us all unique individuals.  Traveling abroad heightens one's sense of difference.  Possibly because we are looking for it and possibly because there is more of it to be found.  I chose these two paintings for this post because they represent one of the most fundamental differences between populations, religion.  For some reason, religion has been a difference that many societies have not been able to reconcile.  Someone is right and someone is wrong, but who?  

I refuse to choose one religion because I am incapable of deciding which one is correct.  This is the same sentiment that I feel towards cultures.  Every culture that I experience has something amazing to contribute to the world and also something that they could do better.  There is not one culture or religion that is "right."  What I find most unappealing about religion, is the mindset that it holds the only truth.  Many cultures have this same mindset.  Switzerland likes to think that they have all the answers and that they have done it "right."  In the meantime, they don't have many nice things to say about other countries in Europe or outside of it.  It is still surprising to me how unpopular America is.  There is nothing like an attack on your country to make you want to defend it.  When talking to Swiss people about America I hear things like, "you are all fat, none of you home cook your meals, all of your products come from large corporations, your judicial system is unfair, you created unhealthy food and made the world fat."  Some of these accusations are partially accurate, but none of them are the whole truth about America.  I had an argument with a boy the other day about how it is America's fault that Swiss people are becoming obese eating McDonald's, Burger King, and Starbucks.  I had to laugh a little at his desire to blame anything negative about Switzerland on the U.S. and then pointed out that we were not holding them at gun point forcing them to eat.
There is strength in patriotism and religion.  They are forces that unite people under a common cause, but these forces can also divide.  If these forces are being used to separate people of difference, then they are no longer being used for their original purpose and become tainted.  Cultures and religions are most beautiful when they are being shared providing an opportunity to learn and grow.  The greatest injustice that one does to a culture or religion is to have one encounter with it and label it.  There is more than one type of American just as there is more than one type of Christian, Muslim, and Buddhist.    

Why do I love Europe?

After a few weeks of feeling a bit overwhelmed and lost in a world of unfamiliar, I began to settle in and appreciate what is around me.  A weekend trip to Annecy awoke the dormant passion that I have for France. We wove through a sea of people buying their weekly cheese and sausage at the market, savored a picnic in the grass over looking the lake which is nestled among mountains, and leisurely paddled around the lake on paddle boards finishing the day with two exquisite scoops of hand made gelato.  Nothing could have made this day better except the realization that this is now my life.

The feeling of comfort is beginning to settle in as I locate all of the basic necessities around me.  I now know which markets have the best fruits and veggies, which grocery stores have the cheapest dry goods, which bakery has the best croissants, and which fromagerie has the biggest selection of cheese.  All of the essentials are now in place.  I also know how to pay my tuition fees (which happens at the post office), buy more minutes for my phone (which happens at the grocery store), and buy a bike (which happens in the basement of a high-school.)

The other great thing about beginning to belong is meeting friends.  Most of my friends here are not Swiss.  This was not by choice but by matter of convenience.  I am not partial to where my friends are from as long as they walk a similar path of life.  All of the people who have been open to exploring and making new friends have been other foreigners in the same situation as me.  Last night I found myself at a free salsa class surrounded by a group of people from the Czech Republic, Spain, Belgium, Finland, and India.  All of them were here in Switzerland either studying or interning in an incredibly inspiring field.  I used to think that I was pretty worldly and cool and now I just feel like one more person following her dreams and aspirations to different corners of the world.

Geneva is not Switzerland.  Although it may appear to be in Switzerland on a map, do not be deceived . It is a country all of its own.  It is one of the most international cities in the world, and because of this, it has lost a bit of its Swiss charm.  It lacks the adorable shuttered buildings with flower baskets hanging out the windows.  It lacks the markets that fill entire blocks of cobble stoned streets.  It lacks the culture of stopping at five different specialty shops to get your groceries.  And most of all, it lacks the incredible bakeries that both Switzerland and France are known for.  Despite all of these disappointments, it does provide a dynamic cultural experience in which you can be a part of thousands of different cultures in the same city.

Luckily, France is nearby to offer mouth watering pastries, cheese, sausage, coffee, and gelato in artisan shops that are scattered along cobbled streets that every so often cross over meandering canals. I imagine that I will be spending a lot of time in France.

My Dream

As the plane lands in my new home, my stomach flutters with nerves and excitement.  Moving to a foreign country provides a unique sort of high that you cannot get any other way.  This high is started by fear; the fear of the unknown, of losing your way, of being alone, and of starting over.  You begin to experience the high as you begin to realize that you are overcoming all of these fears one step at a time.

Geneva is a relatively small city making it very possible for a country bumpkin as myself to navigate it. Of course I can still be seen walking down the street with my nose in a map and a bewildered look on my face. In the first month of life abroad every outing is like an orienteering race.  I like to prepare for my outings tracking my route on my map before leaving the residence and having a solid plan of action on how to get to my destination. However, when I step out the front door, the real world looks nothing like the world on my map.  Then I spend my time walking thinking things like "was it left out of the building or right?"  "I have no idea which way North is."  "Nothing looks familiar." "Wow, I'm way off track." It is also very difficult to know who to ask for directions in Geneva, as half the population is probably another foreigner just as lost as you.  Needless to say, I usually walk an extra mile before arriving at my destination.

Once I arrive at my destination, I generally have another grand adventure trying to accomplish what it was I went there to do.  Even my fluent French does not hide the fact that I am as out of place as a mountain goat on a beach.  How would any american know that the post office is not only for sending and receiving mail, but also buying a telephone and opening a bank account?  or that there are three different ways to put a credit card into a credit card machine depending on what kind of card it is?  or that the only place to buy anything on a Sunday is at the train station, because literally everything else in the city is closed?  Every little chore that took me 10 minutes in the U.S. generally takes me about 3 hours here.

Then the realization hits that my standard of living has now been sliced into a fourth of what it had been.  My room is smaller than my dorm room in college.  I have a communal bathroom, shower, and kitchen.  I have a key to open a little cubby hole within a group refrigerator and another key that looks like the key from the secret garden to open my cupboard space which is in a separate room from the kitchen forcing me to carry a pile of dishes and spices across the residence every time I want to cook.  I then cut my vegetables with a knife that does a better job at mashing things than cutting them and cook on an electric stove from the 60's that takes an hour to heat up and then burns everything.

As all of these realizations soak in and occasionally leave me feeling bogged down, I take a little journey down to the lake.  I find a quiet rock off a pier with a view of the Jet d'eau and I begin to paint this incredible city that is now my home.  As I paint each stroke, I think about everything I learned in the last few days, all of the incredible people I have met pursuing their dreams, all of the delicious pastries I have been eating, and every historic building that I have walked by.  The challenges that make travel difficult are also the experiences that make it worth the effort.  I went to the opening meeting for the humanities department today at a school that was founded in 1559 in a building that was built in 1868.  As I sat there listening to the director speak about the importance of the humanities in French a chill ran down my spine.  I am living my dream.

New Beginnings

New Beginnings always start with a goodbye.  A goodbye to the life you had before embarking on your newest adventure.  Goodbye to the community that you belonged to.  Goodbye to the routine that you had become accustomed to.  And, most importantly, goodbye to the ones you cared about.  Jack represents so much more than a single goodbye.  He represents my goodbye not only to my best friend, but also to the lifestyle that I was trying to create.

When I picked Jack out at the pound, he was a symbol of my commitment.  He was going to be the anchor that held me sturdy.  He was going to provide stability and routine.  Choosing to adopt him was my way of saying, "I'm here for the long run."  He ate my $150 sunglasses and picked fights with other dogs.  I left him inside too long and accidentally sliced his paw open with my skis.  We both gave and took and slowly learned to love each other.  It was through Jack that I learned that unconditional love really is possible.

It is hard to imagine someone loving you no matter what you do.  Growing up, I lived in fear of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing and potentially becoming unlovable.  I had no concept of unconditional. Leave it to a dog to teach you that even when you are so angry you could squeeze their eyeballs out, you still love them with your whole heart.  It took Jack a long time to settle in with me.  He had been adopted out two times before and was returned because of his "flaws."  After about a year, he finally began to relax and trust that at last a human loved him for who he was and would be there for him forever.  Or so he thought.

As the car drove away from Jack, I felt my heart cave in upon itself.  I choked on my own sobs and lost sight of reality swamped in by tears.  I was not only failing Jack but myself.  The one thing that I needed to feel in my own life is what I was taking away from him, my unconditional love and presence.  I had failed at giving the one thing that I needed most.  How can you ask to receive what you are unable to give?  My wanderlust had once again dug its claws into my heart and torn me away from the home that I had created.  It is both my inspiration and my handicap.  Without it my fire dies and with it my heart constantly breaks.

Being back in Europe has awakened my spirit and filled me with joy, but it is not without consequences.  It is in reflecting on what is left behind that I doubt my spirit's ability to guide me to love.  Is this lifestyle able to harbor relationships or will it continue to break them on its uneasy shores?