Willkommen Bienvenue Welcome

Hallo an alle!

Salut tout le monde!

Hello everybody!

As you can see, I'm actually now completely fluent in English, French, AND German! Geneva can have that effect on you. SPEAKING of Geneva, guess where I was this weekend! Well, hmm . . . that probably wasn't the best way to set that one up. But I was in Geneva this weekend! And I was all by myself (for the most part)! And it was super fun (for the most part)!

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Impatient reader: "Molly, it's been like a week. What's the hold up?"

Worrisome reader: "Molly, I'm concerned that I haven't heard from you in several days. Are you dead?"

Aggressive reader: "POST SOMETHING!"

Passive aggressive reader: "I'm fine. It's whatever."

So I apologize for my lack of blogging "punctuality." But the fault is not my own.

Remember when I told you that the internet connection was über screwy in my residence? That they would be cutting it off "in a few days?" Well, that screwiness hasn't really been working in my favor recently. Basically, the internet changed its mind and told us we would have a free connection for the month of February, and then it decided to jump ship a few days ago. (The signs of depression were always there--the moodiness, the empty promises, the bipolar tendencies--but I only realize it now, and it seems I'm too late.)

Fortunately for us all, Neonet came to the rescue! So I'm thinking (fingers crossed) that the connection is "stable" for now.

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But I guess I should talk about Geneva for a little bit. Yeah? Yeah.

Well it all started reeeeally early Friday morning. Mary and I raced down to the bus stop at about 5h30, laughing out loud at how much we felt like we were on the Amazing Race. I'm telling you! That little jaunt to the bus stop at the buttcrack of dawn is eerily similar to the tv program, except you don't win money and there aren't any Harlem Globetrotters chasing you.

We parted ways at the airport (Mary to India, and I to Sweetzerland), and I arrived at the terminal about 2 hours early with the passengers of the flight before mine and some anxious-looking Asian tourists. I frequently fall victim to overestimation.

Just as a general thing, I find airports turn even the sanest Europeans into unfeeling Ricky Bobby space drones (oh, sorry, Reeky Bubby space drones). The "if ya ain't first, yer last" mentality is just everywhere. My thinking: (smart science people can prove this) in the event of a plane crash, the back of the plane is statistically safer than the front. It's just a thought.

 Good morning, Swees. How does it feel to be majestic?

The minute we landed it became unbearably clear what would haunt me for the rest of the trip. The cold. Now, I don't know if you guys have ever been cold before, but I suspect you haven't. I hadn't. But I have now. Ohhhh I have.

Basically I felt like I was having a stroke all the time. My face was constantly numb and droopy, my extremities were extra tingly, and I may or may not have suffered some brain damage.

I am the epitome of attraction.

Once in Geneva, I had planned on wandering around until check-in at the hostel. But I couldn't. "Go-Go-Gadget-Cro-Magnon-Instincts!" I had to find warmth. So I walked into the first café I saw, ordered something off the wrong menu, and watched a guy play Wii golf on the indoor putting green (having mini heart attacks every time he thwacked the ball causing the terrier ringwraith next to me to shriek in pain). But it was warm.

But I decided it was pathetic to sit in a café for 4 hours. So I picked up, paid for my lunch-breakfast, trekked out into the elements, and navigated my way to the United Nations building.

It was actually the easiest thing ever.

(Just call me "One-Shot Molly." All I need is one photo and I can't feel my fingers.)

Now, finding the visitors' entrance to the UN building, that took some navigational skills that I simply do not possess. The gate guard told me it was 500 meters to the left. But I have no idea how much is a meter. So I figured:

"Okay. I'm, what, 2 meters tall? So if there were 250 me's lying head to foot on the ground . . . no I've totally walked farther than that."

Turns out I hadn't. And I managed to figure that out just in time to miss the last tour.

But I'm not too torn up about it.

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That night, after checking into the hostel and thwarting Jack Frost with a battle axe spirit, I decided to go to a play downtown! (Geneva is very good at advertising little fun things to do when you have no friends.) I was going to go to King Lear, but then I remembered how horribly unfun that would be.

So I bought a ticket for a "comedy" play called Le Plaisir d'Être Honnête (The Pleasure of Being Honest). It's about a woman who is pregnant with the baby of a married man. To dispel this inherent shame, the woman's lover and mother hire a stranger to marry her. Then there's a whole lot of French introspection crap that really doesn't make sense in the context of a comedy. Thus bringing me to my point. This play was horrible.

Now, I can understand the benefits of a simple backdrop and minimal props and accessories, and I can forgive you for having 6 chairs that don't match, and I can even forgive you for overusing the sound people, adding music in unnecessary and frankly confusing moments, but I can't forgive you for casting the uncomfortable Shrek-looking guy with the lady-voice and creepy smile that just wouldn't quit. And I'll just go ahead and add that dressing him in the maroon-heather, gold-lined trench coat with matching pants and too-tight white floral button-up only made my affinity for him jump off the side of a cliff in mass suicide.

But I survived. I mean it was only three hours of periodically staring pensively into the audience which I find to be the theatrical equivalent of looking into the camera, but what do I know? And I think this is rather common practice in the French thee-ah-tah.

The only part of the play that I even liked a little was when a huge chunk of the scenery fell off at the audience but then crumpled at the last minute. (Right where I was sitting in the front row....) Well played, French dramaturgs. Well played.

Oh! I found pictures!

Okay see those giant white squares on the left side against the wall?
That's what fell into the audience.

And, still, I don't find Mr. Bean very funny.

Look how pensive. This is not funny.

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So that was the first day.

Day 2 was fraught with adventure and negative temperatures. (To increase the amount of time I could stand to be outside, I had to be innovative. I brought three outfits with me to Geneva and wore two of them everyday. Let's just say I wasn't the cutest girl roaming the streets of Geneva that weekend, but I also wasn't the coldest. So I'll take it.)

First I went to Place Neuve where I happened upon the Parc des Bastions, which was really neat.

Occupy Geneva is a far cry from "on the up and up."

But my favorite part was the trash cans. And it's way less disgusting than it sounds.

And the winner is:

Braces. Definitely braces.

I counted 27 graffitied trash cans in total. And I took a picture of every one. Some were slightly offensive, others blatantly racist. But, I guess, if you're throwing your garbage in them . . . maybe it's metaphorical. Like "racism is garbage." I can live with that.

Also in the park was "Le Mur des Reformateurs" (The Reformation Wall).

This brings something to mind.

Then I found a set of about 5-6 giant chess sets buried under some snow and ice.

Knight to H-3!

(A brief side note: it took me 6 tries to get this picture. By the end I couldn't even bend my fingers. The things we sacrifice . . .)

This dog was chasing ice. And it was lovely.

Then I somehow ended up in the Old Town in front of Saint Pierre's Cathedral.

Then I wandered back down around the city for a bit, eventually hopping on the tram for a grand tour with a heating system.

Horloge Fleurie (Flower Clock)--kind of depressing, isn't it?

The sad little place where the Jet d'Eau would have been.

I also found a "Bob l'Éponge" museum by the lake!

That's right.

I then met up with one of my dad's old work friends who lives in Geneva, Fred Clarke. He's a photojournalist working with groups like the ICRC, People on War, and other international organizations, capturing images of war and humanitarian efforts all around the globe. It's all very fascinating and high-octane.

I had 3 cups of coffee that day. To stay warm. Caffeine does not behave normally in my system.

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Day Three

After checking out of the hostel, I met back up with Fred, and we walked down to the Lac Léman (the lake) on the side that I had not seen yet. And for obvious reasons.

  

Photo cred: Fred (hehe)

ALL ICE. SOLID ICE. NOTHING BUT ICE.

It was a veritable winter wonderland. You know when you get so cold that your outside stops shivering and your inside starts? I had me the inside shivers. But it was so worth it.

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To end, I've decided Robert Frost lived in a warmer climate. It is generally unwise to traverse the road "less traveled by" in an icy situation.

But maybe, rather, it's the roads medium traveled by that we need to watch out for. The ones that are packed down just enough, unfrozen and refrozen so many times that the "less traveled by" snow has become the "medium traveled by death ice."

Robert Frost was wise beyond his years.

Amitiés :)

A Whole New World Traveler

This blog post will be lacking a middle ground.

Namely, these past few days have been a veritable whirlwind of emotion. Like Dorothy gale force winds.

(hehe see what I did there?)

But let's be serious for a minute, you guys.

Okay enough of that.

I use humor to combat my feelings!

But for real. I've been pretty frustrated for a while with stuff. Just feeling like I haven't been taking advantage of my time over here, not traveling enough, et cetera et cetera.

After talking it out with various loved ones over "skype: the world's most frustrating communication device," I realized I just needed to do it. Just go. Jus' git on out there and keep on keepin' on. So that's what I decided to do. So I've taken it upon myself to contact various parties across Europe and in my own Niçois backyard, and I've officially started laying out the rest of my semester, and I couldn't be happier.

Let's skip all the drama and fast-forward to the past few days, when the whirlwind really took hold and lifted me out of my 21st century quagmire and into the future!

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We'll start local.

So we have a long break coming up in a few weeks at the end of February, and the majority of my European friends already had plans to visit significant others or family or wanh wanh wanh wanh wanh. I was less than prepared to face Europe alone. Then I remembered there was a group of girls from Canada in a few of my classes who I'd talked with a lot and who were very sweet. So I sent one of them a facebook message, and now I'm going to Madrid and Lisbon with them at the end of February!!

I AM SO EXCITED!!!

We're flying from Nice to Geneva to Madrid to Lisbon to Madrid to Geneva to Nice for TEN DAYS! I can't hardly wait.

Well, that wasn't as local as I had anticipated. But yeah!

So exciting.

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I also contacted a friend of mine, Mary, who I haven't actually seen since middle school who is studying abroad in Montpellier right now (just west of Nice)! We realized that neither of us have class on Fridays, so we're currently in the process of planning a weekend trip to Prague at the end of April!

Also, Mary brought up that she was flying out of Nice this Friday, and she wondered if she could crash at my place for the night. And I said of course! So writing this portion is a little bit strange, as she's currently sleeping on my floor. Haha?

(She also reminded me that she still has a ceramic box that I painted in the 6th grade from All Fired Up at her house. She's been "meaning to give it back to me." We're making arrangements for the summer.)

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Also Cabaret was FANTASTIC! And we even got to sit about 4 rows back from the stage! I was amazed at how much of the play I could understand (even though it was in French). I think it might have something to do with the emphasis thespians places on enunciation. Probably. But really, it was so good! I would have taken pictures, but there was a STRICT no cameras policy. And I feared for my safety. And my camera.

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On Monday night the girls and I got together to celebrate Angela's birthday. We started in her room, with food and wine, and then went out into town to finish the evening. It was très enjoyable.

Oh also that night, some French people told me my accent was not that pronounced! One girl even said she couldn't tell where I was from, though she knew it wasn't France! Still. What compliments!

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Hahahahaha Mary just woke up and asked me what time it was 6 times. She was very concerned. Hahahahaha

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Today in theatre class . . . we danced.

Well, we weren't dancing, but some of the girls started performing a choreographed dance thing during the break, and my teacher got distracted (as he is wont to do), so then we did that for the rest of class.

But, instead of simply learning the dance, he had a few of us go behind the girls who knew the choreography to act like comedians? Basically he wanted the 4 of us to emulate the dancers but be funny. Which I found hilarious. (I think he just teaches this class for his own amusement.) But, you guys, I think we did that dance routine 18 times through at least, and that, for me, is a lot of dancing. I am very tired right now.

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I'm supposed to wake up to go to Geneva in about an hour and a half.

Soooo I'm gonna go now.

See you on Monday Muddy Monday!

Amitiés :)

Miscellaneousness and/or Miscellaneity

Because all my other posts have been so thematic.

I have a lot of thoughts in my head right now. And they don't really have any particular organization, save the fact that they were all either thought or done in the past 3 days.

So I will just provide you with a melange of things to think about, none of which have anything to do with one another. Sort of like an episode of Lost.

1. So, first and foremost, it's freaking cold here. I am disappointed that the temperature can't seem to get his business together. If he wants to act out like this, he should at least try to compensate with a flurry or two or seven. General reciprocity, temperature. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It's a fairly straightforward concept.

2. Unbeknownst to me, the theatre class dress code has evolved. Apparently we recently defeated the Balrog and now everyone wears all white. A flood of uncomfortable memories of confusion and exclusion rushed over me as I realized what a waste my new black shirt was. Instead of a beautiful flower in a sea of darkness like last semester, I was the piraty black spot trapped in a city of angels. Tomato tomato.

Then we spent the entire class reciting French tongue twisters, memorizing them on the spot, wandering the stage repeating them over and over without opening our teeth, and then performing a solo interpretation of the twister with complementary body movements, still with the self-imposed lockjaw. It was unseemly.

Now, I pride myself on my proficiency with the French language, but I pride myself even more on how good I am at tongue twisters. Unfortunately, the combination of the two turned into an orange juice/toothpaste situation, and it didn't taste good in my mouth.

There's a certain point where "Le mur mugissant malmene les moites moroses et m'amene les murs murants des vagues" goes too far, causing your brain to seriously consider spontaneous combustion. (DISCLAIMER: I'm pretty sure this isn't real French. It's just what I heard with my crippled American ears.)

Also, I find opening my jaw is essential when pronouncing French words. There are far too many "zha zha" sounds.

3. Two nights ago, I met up with Zara, Ricki, and Ricki's boyfriend whose name I can't spell to cook dinner at the residence. We had pancaky crèpes with spinach and tomatoes and chèvre cheese among other things. It was VERY delicious. Then yesterday a group of us went into town to hang out and shop around. It was really fun too. We decided to walk down the Promenade instead of going by bus, and, despite the cold, the beach is very pleasant in the middle of winter.

4. I'm fairly certain something happened to the hall director in my residence building--you know, the snarky one who yelled at me for asking if they sold bed linens to students. He's nice to me now. He calls me Mademoiselle Kessler and jokes about the weather. I haven't decided what happened to him yet. It must be my charming personality.

5. We're going to see Cabaret tonight! I'm so excited!

6. And I'm going to Geneva this weekend!!! I CAN'T WAIT!!!

7. We now return to "Stories About Mundane Things" Episode #482--The Key.

Yesterday morning, before going for a run, I had a super ingenious plan. Instead of bringing my whole wallet, why not bring . . . wait for it . . . just my room key? It was a novel idea. But I couldn't very well put my monster room key in my shoe without incurring a foot wound. So I decided to tie the key to my shoelace and leave for my run.

Unfortunately, I didn't account for the fact that I would need to lock my door.

Now normally this wouldn't be a problem. But my running shoe shoelaces are 7 miles long, so I always have to quintuple-knot them. Therein lied the dilemma. I had a brief internal war--laziness vs. sanity. In the end laziness prevailed. So I did what any normal person would do. I attempted to lock my door with my foot key.

Apparently I'm not as flexible as I think I am. And apparently there are other morning-people living on my floor.

Your judgement will only make me stronger.

I pretended I was stretching.

No, this is totally normal.

Well, now that I've sufficiently rambled on about a lot of nothing . . .

Amitiés :)