It is summer time. In a small community center decorated with paper hearts, a group of Americans and Swiss learn tradtitional folk dancing with the aid of champagne and a teacher with a lot of patience.
"Mmm, wie sagt Man 'jemand fremd'?" The dance instructor's english up to this point has been understandable and sweetly accented. Proud that she had turned to me to translate, I promptly answer: Foreigner or Stranger.
Were we doing this dance in america, the leader would probably call out "turn to you partner, turn to your own". At least, this is my understanging, based on Bugs Bunny cartoons. Our leader, possibly overwhelmed by the new additions to her vocabularly looks to her partner and says "foreigner" then to the person on her other side "stranger". The Americans who were already laughing in surprise at the two synonyms, chuckle all the more. The rest of the night, simply saying "foreigner - stranger - foreigner - stranger" would elicit giggles.
When I first moved to Switzerland and needed to organize my foreigner ID, I had the same reaction. I was to go to the neighborhood police and was confused by the use of the word "Fremd". Apparently I had only heard that word as "stranger" before and the ID of regitering myself as a "stranger" made me a bit sad. I thought back to the answer my half brother gave when I asked him what a "stranger" looks like. "He's a man with a black mask and has all black and wants to take you away."
Months later, the reaction of my american friends to "foreigner - stranger" made me laugh from my belly with relief. Their shock showed that they found it absurd that a foreigner would be a stranger. Of course our use of the word "alien" does not seem that much more friendly, but they had likely never been called an alien and here in Switzerland they were foreigners; strangers. Though I've been a stranger here for 3 years, I still feel a very deep relief when someone else is surprised by culture or language in the same way I was, at first. When a German or American in Switzerland first hears "Hana wasser" or "gksi". I laugh and nod my head. That's right. You weren't expecting that, were you? I feell a relief at the evidence that, though I do not understand everything, I know to order tap water and that I am a stranger.
Dienstag, 17. März 2009
Freitag, 6. März 2009
all that glitters
I've never thought of myself as superfical, at least not so much more than the average human animal. When I walk down the street, my mind always plays at the notions of what depths the surrounding strangers contain.
Last week, my neighbor asked what was wrong. I was simply walking home from the pharmacy. He knew that something was wrong because of the way I was walking. I hadn't even noticed a hitch in my step.
"Skiing accident?" he asked. I laughed so hard. "Something like that" I said. Here he was, trusting his eyes, judging by appearances and had NO idea that I was limping along with fistulas and draining abscesses.
Today, as I was walking down the street I couldn't play my usual game of creating lives for the fleeting faces in trams or the strolling strangers. No guesses at families, happiness, loves of hand-knit sweaters. All I could do was imagine callouses on a beautiful woman in expensive shoes. Diaper rash on an adorable baby. Hemorrhoids on the hairdresser in the salon.
No one knows my medical history when they see me walking down the street. I apparently resemble a skiier. (ha! I snowboard when not healing from surgery)
Yesterday I visited my old Kindergarten , I was teaching for a year and a half until December. I came for a visit and came bearing Easter chocolate and sang "little bunny foo foo". The whole time I was there, I had one or two children wrapped around one or both of my legs. I visited during circle time and said that I would love to hear any stories that they had for me, or answer any questions that they had for me.
Guess how many questions they asked? none. I heard about Christmas and Hanukkah, who lost a tooth, what they built, what number they can write.
When I was their teacher, these little guys who would remove my glasses the three times that I wore them when hungover, because they were unusual to them. The rugrats who would surreptitiously change stroke my hair so that it was parted on the "normal" side, should I ever dare to switch it, these gorgeous, healthy balls of energy looked at me and saw me. Not Chron's or sick or fistulas, just me.
Montag, 2. März 2009
time....is on my side
When I was younger I used to stay at over night in Ashland Massachusetts before hospital visits. It was closer to my Boston hospital and a good excuse to hang with my dad, step-mom and half-brother. One particular morning (there musn't have been surgery or scopes on the books), I was breakfasting with my half-brother and he asked "What is time?"
He was a little guy. He liked my shaved head and I sprayed his mom's hairspray under the bed (monster spray) when I would sit for him. I gave him a big stupid smile and his mother gasped.
"Oh my goodness! He wants to know what time is?"
It could have been my age, my recent babysitting or my perspective (I was watching his face as it swung toward the clock when he asked), but I was untroubled by the question.
"Well, time is what tells us what it's time to do. Time tells us when we go to playgroup, when we go to bed and when the train comes."
He was quickly and easily pacified and I felt like a good big sister.
Yesterday, Ivo and I were walking in the cemetery and stopped to admire one of the buildings. A woman who was passing commented on the fineness of the day and we agreed.
"If only the people with computers weren't messing with the time." , she added.
"Mmmmmm." we said.
Then we wished her a lovely day.
"What day is it?" she asked
"Sunday." we said.
"I'm sorry but it's not. I've just been to the shops and the shops aren't open on Sundays. So it isn't Sunday then, is it?"
I was at a loss. How does one prove time to someone? Especially someone who believes that people with computers are manipulating time? "Oh," I said "I just heard a lot of bells this morning. That made me think that it was Sunday. "
"Well, I've been to the shops. ....and you know the weird thing? I arrived home at the same time that I left. I left and went shopping and came home and it was the same time that it'd been when I'd gone."
"Go figure" is pretty much what Ivo and I were about to say. "Well, whichever day it is, I hope that it is a good one for you."
When I was preparing dinner, I began listening to the Radio lab podcast about Time. It was a freaky coincidence. I learned about how trains made a synchronised time in one place more necessary. I learned about England taking control of their empire and declaring their own time, Greenwich Mean Time, as the one true time. It was enlightening. When I'd left that woman I shuffled my feet and thought "It's all relative" but after hearing that podcast I thought on my baby brother and was reminded the importance of respecting people and listening better to the things that they say and the ways in which they intend it.
He was a little guy. He liked my shaved head and I sprayed his mom's hairspray under the bed (monster spray) when I would sit for him. I gave him a big stupid smile and his mother gasped.
"Oh my goodness! He wants to know what time is?"
It could have been my age, my recent babysitting or my perspective (I was watching his face as it swung toward the clock when he asked), but I was untroubled by the question.
"Well, time is what tells us what it's time to do. Time tells us when we go to playgroup, when we go to bed and when the train comes."
He was quickly and easily pacified and I felt like a good big sister.
Yesterday, Ivo and I were walking in the cemetery and stopped to admire one of the buildings. A woman who was passing commented on the fineness of the day and we agreed.
"If only the people with computers weren't messing with the time." , she added.
"Mmmmmm." we said.
Then we wished her a lovely day.
"What day is it?" she asked
"Sunday." we said.
"I'm sorry but it's not. I've just been to the shops and the shops aren't open on Sundays. So it isn't Sunday then, is it?"
I was at a loss. How does one prove time to someone? Especially someone who believes that people with computers are manipulating time? "Oh," I said "I just heard a lot of bells this morning. That made me think that it was Sunday. "
"Well, I've been to the shops. ....and you know the weird thing? I arrived home at the same time that I left. I left and went shopping and came home and it was the same time that it'd been when I'd gone."
"Go figure" is pretty much what Ivo and I were about to say. "Well, whichever day it is, I hope that it is a good one for you."
When I was preparing dinner, I began listening to the Radio lab podcast about Time. It was a freaky coincidence. I learned about how trains made a synchronised time in one place more necessary. I learned about England taking control of their empire and declaring their own time, Greenwich Mean Time, as the one true time. It was enlightening. When I'd left that woman I shuffled my feet and thought "It's all relative" but after hearing that podcast I thought on my baby brother and was reminded the importance of respecting people and listening better to the things that they say and the ways in which they intend it.
Sonntag, 25. Januar 2009
interpreting
My husband edited my letter of intent.
Do you see? My expression of desire for a job and my qualities for that job were read and corrected by my husband.
I have to go to an interview and present a self to a perspective employer.
I've been mistaken for other people. I've reminded people of someone who they used to know. I can translate words on paper but have trouble doing simultaneous translation. I interpret what I am feeling to my husband. I presented my understanding of things to small children for over a year.
One day in a train, a Deaf man was trying to get information for why we had stopped. The conductor was not able to explain it to him. She was busy. She needed to inform the car that we were going to need to switch to another train. I turned to the man and asked if I should sign to him what was going on. I wished that I would be asked to interpret for the conductor. I didn't want to simply answer his questions myself. I was afraid that I would be tempted to lie or not tell the full truth. I couldn't, though. I had a friend who was Deaf and I knew the importance that I give him the most accurate information I had. So I didn't say that there was a technical problem. I signed. "She has informed us that someone has jumped from the bridge. She said that the person is on the track and that Police and Ambulance are here. She's just made an announcement that we will need to transfer to another train, which is coming." I found the man later when the conductors were telling us to fully step down from one train before stepping onto the next. That we were not to touch both trains at the same time.
I've been going to a meditation class that is in four parts. I want to have the honesty of interpreting for a Deaf man on a train when I am interpreting what my body is capable of and what my reality is right now.
I want to be that clear when I am at an interview. I want to present the facts. But my husband has edited my intentions.
Do you see? My expression of desire for a job and my qualities for that job were read and corrected by my husband.
I have to go to an interview and present a self to a perspective employer.
I've been mistaken for other people. I've reminded people of someone who they used to know. I can translate words on paper but have trouble doing simultaneous translation. I interpret what I am feeling to my husband. I presented my understanding of things to small children for over a year.
One day in a train, a Deaf man was trying to get information for why we had stopped. The conductor was not able to explain it to him. She was busy. She needed to inform the car that we were going to need to switch to another train. I turned to the man and asked if I should sign to him what was going on. I wished that I would be asked to interpret for the conductor. I didn't want to simply answer his questions myself. I was afraid that I would be tempted to lie or not tell the full truth. I couldn't, though. I had a friend who was Deaf and I knew the importance that I give him the most accurate information I had. So I didn't say that there was a technical problem. I signed. "She has informed us that someone has jumped from the bridge. She said that the person is on the track and that Police and Ambulance are here. She's just made an announcement that we will need to transfer to another train, which is coming." I found the man later when the conductors were telling us to fully step down from one train before stepping onto the next. That we were not to touch both trains at the same time.
I've been going to a meditation class that is in four parts. I want to have the honesty of interpreting for a Deaf man on a train when I am interpreting what my body is capable of and what my reality is right now.
I want to be that clear when I am at an interview. I want to present the facts. But my husband has edited my intentions.
Montag, 5. Januar 2009
that one time
When I was in the states this winter it snowed. It snowed and snowed and that snow coincided with a car trip, which was scary. I held my breath when we slowly crested hills with the car downshifted. (I say we, but I mean my brother-in-law, who volunteered to hold all of our lives in his hands so that my sister and I could make it to a yoga retreat.) I kept thining about the one big accident that I had had. My car slid down a snowy slope and underneath a schoolbus. I thought of it ALOT!
I thought mostly about the still weirdness that happens before the crash, the blood rushing in my ears, I thought about the fear and the futility.
Just now, not in a car, not in the snow, I thought of the other, the better, parts of crashing. Let me tell you now that this was a bloodless affair and everyone was fine. One part was the great cheer the children in the bus let out when the hood of my car slid under the bus' rump and shattered in a fun way (it was a saturn). The best part, however, was the part that I wanted to share:
I got on my cell phone (a new addition to my previously analogue life) and called my good friend and neighbor, a woman with whom I was apartment-hunting, Dacia. Her boyfriend answered her phone.
"Tyler, I had a crash!" I screamed
"I know! We watched you through the window!" (the crash happened when I tried to not crest a hill ; hoping instead to slide into my road before momentum built up)
"Look behind you!"
I did. Luckily it wasn't another car coming to hit my car, which was next to two smashed cars and under a bus which had crushed a car into a telephone pole. It was Dacia, sliding down the hill on her toward my car; propelling herself forward on mittened hands. I would have an incredible and essential relationship with this woman. We would live together and support one another and care for one another. Before moving in with her, I lived with a cold woman who was my complete opposite. After living with her I was a better woman and could give myself more of what I needed. And the moment that most clearly defines that wonderful experience is watching this caring, loving grown woman, paddle herself down a hill on her ass to come and sit in my broken ass car and drink my travel mug coffee and hold me while I laughed and on to the time when I would need to have a big scream - when the adrenaline wore off.)
We watched the cops slip and fall on their bums, we watched a cop car and a snow plow spin down the hill - one after the other - the snowplow spinning down and landing on my back-bumper and unloading sand all over it.
better memory, I think
I thought mostly about the still weirdness that happens before the crash, the blood rushing in my ears, I thought about the fear and the futility.
Just now, not in a car, not in the snow, I thought of the other, the better, parts of crashing. Let me tell you now that this was a bloodless affair and everyone was fine. One part was the great cheer the children in the bus let out when the hood of my car slid under the bus' rump and shattered in a fun way (it was a saturn). The best part, however, was the part that I wanted to share:
I got on my cell phone (a new addition to my previously analogue life) and called my good friend and neighbor, a woman with whom I was apartment-hunting, Dacia. Her boyfriend answered her phone.
"Tyler, I had a crash!" I screamed
"I know! We watched you through the window!" (the crash happened when I tried to not crest a hill ; hoping instead to slide into my road before momentum built up)
"Look behind you!"
I did. Luckily it wasn't another car coming to hit my car, which was next to two smashed cars and under a bus which had crushed a car into a telephone pole. It was Dacia, sliding down the hill on her toward my car; propelling herself forward on mittened hands. I would have an incredible and essential relationship with this woman. We would live together and support one another and care for one another. Before moving in with her, I lived with a cold woman who was my complete opposite. After living with her I was a better woman and could give myself more of what I needed. And the moment that most clearly defines that wonderful experience is watching this caring, loving grown woman, paddle herself down a hill on her ass to come and sit in my broken ass car and drink my travel mug coffee and hold me while I laughed and on to the time when I would need to have a big scream - when the adrenaline wore off.)
We watched the cops slip and fall on their bums, we watched a cop car and a snow plow spin down the hill - one after the other - the snowplow spinning down and landing on my back-bumper and unloading sand all over it.
better memory, I think
Sonntag, 4. Januar 2009
New Year
It is a New Year!
Like the last 5 years, I rang in 2009 in on a mountaintop with a small group and with Churches chiming (the church in the next town over always a bit prematurely), pretending that I am not afraid of my brother-in-law setting off fireworks.
Crashes and booms meant to scare off the baddies of last year were not enough, so Ivo and I turned ourselves around to 2008 and screamed at the tops of our lungs. Very cathartic. I screamed at the bad parts of the growing pains in our marriage this year. I screamed at anything medical. I screamed at all the frustrations and stumbling blocks. And yet.......
When I look in the future and imagine myself an old lady, I wonder what I will think of this time in my life. What will I tell my grandchildren? Will I be jealous of them? WHO STARTS THEIR MARRIED LIFE AS AN ABSOLUTE BEGINNER AT ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING?!?!?! German, Swiss German, Swiss culture, Accordian, being a daughter-in-law, Kick-boxing, Snowboarding, Eating meals with other people, Yoga.....
So, the past couple of years I have been a beginner and not so good at things. I've needed to be patient, I've needed to be humble, I've needed to be be an adult learner. What are my plans for the New Year? More of the God damned SAME!
I guess I wasn't shouting at being a beginner, cuz I've got beginner-plans for 2009. Adult swim classes, French lessons and french school in Paris, leaving the confidence that comes from working a job that I know how to do and have done for more than a decade for a job that I have studied for but never actually done, jumping in the adult pool metaphorically as well and gettin' me a hearing aid.
I'm all about figuring out how I want to identify myself. I guess I never figured that I would be a beginner, that I would CHOOSE to.
Like the last 5 years, I rang in 2009 in on a mountaintop with a small group and with Churches chiming (the church in the next town over always a bit prematurely), pretending that I am not afraid of my brother-in-law setting off fireworks.
Crashes and booms meant to scare off the baddies of last year were not enough, so Ivo and I turned ourselves around to 2008 and screamed at the tops of our lungs. Very cathartic. I screamed at the bad parts of the growing pains in our marriage this year. I screamed at anything medical. I screamed at all the frustrations and stumbling blocks. And yet.......
When I look in the future and imagine myself an old lady, I wonder what I will think of this time in my life. What will I tell my grandchildren? Will I be jealous of them? WHO STARTS THEIR MARRIED LIFE AS AN ABSOLUTE BEGINNER AT ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING?!?!?! German, Swiss German, Swiss culture, Accordian, being a daughter-in-law, Kick-boxing, Snowboarding, Eating meals with other people, Yoga.....
So, the past couple of years I have been a beginner and not so good at things. I've needed to be patient, I've needed to be humble, I've needed to be be an adult learner. What are my plans for the New Year? More of the God damned SAME!
I guess I wasn't shouting at being a beginner, cuz I've got beginner-plans for 2009. Adult swim classes, French lessons and french school in Paris, leaving the confidence that comes from working a job that I know how to do and have done for more than a decade for a job that I have studied for but never actually done, jumping in the adult pool metaphorically as well and gettin' me a hearing aid.
I'm all about figuring out how I want to identify myself. I guess I never figured that I would be a beginner, that I would CHOOSE to.
Mittwoch, 3. Dezember 2008
Dear John.. I mean Chon's
Dear Chron's,
I won't be contrived and say that this is the hardest letter that I have ever had to write, but I will risk cliche by reminding you, that breaking up is hard to do.
We've been together a long time and as you know, ours is not the only unhealthy relationship that I have had. Like those relationships, I have found a comfort in the momentum of our relationship and as a result have ignored it's more abusive tendencies. Also like those other relationships, I've reached a point of maturity at which I can no longer ignore that this relationship is too destructive for me to maintain. I'm sorry. I have to break it off.
There are always moments that crop up after a relationship, where you find yourself wondering "what if we were still together?" We'll think on the good times, like the care and attention you gained me, even in the days when we were just beginning and the whisper of irritable bowel wasn't even sure enough to call a full-blown chronic illness. I know there will be times when I miss the comfort that I had being in your embrace, defining myself by our relationship. Defining oneself by one's unhealthy relationship is never a good idea, and so I feel certain that when I am wondering and when I am missing you, choosing to be without you will be best for both of us. We'll both have to coexist in this big ol' crazy world, but I think that it's best if we don't contact one another for a while. You'll see, in time, that it's for the best.
You'll see me with other medicines, healthier alternatives. You may wonder why I don't dabble in the western medicines you and I used to. You may feel betrayed that I cut out our old friends (6MP, Humira, Prednisone, Pentasa, Asacol), you know as well as I do that they were all really your friends and not "ours".
I need to see what else is out there. I need to go out on my own and see what the world is like beyond our relationship.
I'll always be thankful for our time together. Not just because of the care, but also from all of the lessons I've learned from you. I'll keep them in a special place in my heart.
Goodbye Chron's.
Good Luck,
Jessica
I won't be contrived and say that this is the hardest letter that I have ever had to write, but I will risk cliche by reminding you, that breaking up is hard to do.
We've been together a long time and as you know, ours is not the only unhealthy relationship that I have had. Like those relationships, I have found a comfort in the momentum of our relationship and as a result have ignored it's more abusive tendencies. Also like those other relationships, I've reached a point of maturity at which I can no longer ignore that this relationship is too destructive for me to maintain. I'm sorry. I have to break it off.
There are always moments that crop up after a relationship, where you find yourself wondering "what if we were still together?" We'll think on the good times, like the care and attention you gained me, even in the days when we were just beginning and the whisper of irritable bowel wasn't even sure enough to call a full-blown chronic illness. I know there will be times when I miss the comfort that I had being in your embrace, defining myself by our relationship. Defining oneself by one's unhealthy relationship is never a good idea, and so I feel certain that when I am wondering and when I am missing you, choosing to be without you will be best for both of us. We'll both have to coexist in this big ol' crazy world, but I think that it's best if we don't contact one another for a while. You'll see, in time, that it's for the best.
You'll see me with other medicines, healthier alternatives. You may wonder why I don't dabble in the western medicines you and I used to. You may feel betrayed that I cut out our old friends (6MP, Humira, Prednisone, Pentasa, Asacol), you know as well as I do that they were all really your friends and not "ours".
I need to see what else is out there. I need to go out on my own and see what the world is like beyond our relationship.
I'll always be thankful for our time together. Not just because of the care, but also from all of the lessons I've learned from you. I'll keep them in a special place in my heart.
Goodbye Chron's.
Good Luck,
Jessica
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