When we arrived in Zürich after leaving the pristine autumn of Finland, our city was warm and muggy and "oh, yeah....I forgot" foggy. Ah, the fog. When I first moved here, Ivo feared that I would hate it because of the fog. It rolled in that first autumn and after day 12 I thought I might lose it. Ivo was apologetic, as if it had been fault personally. It was too sweet. Then he took me up a hill or a mountain something, above the fog and showed me where to find sun and that became one of my new favorite things about Autumn. I love autumn and I love that in autumn in Zürich the sun needs to be found.
When riding my bike I need to dodge the chestnuts and their prickly coverings in the street. Other chestnuts will be being cooked on stands on the street. The farmer's market is full and colorful and fit to burst. The Mövenpick icecream stand in front of the supermarket switches to a Brezelkönig stand. And now, I'm back to school which is also very autumnal.
I even played a game of shadow-tag with my husband and in laws in the too-early-setting sun. Inspired, like many good things, by the wisdom of Kendra.
Dienstag, 22. September 2009
Montag, 21. September 2009
from the mouths of other babes
On my birthday in Finland, I woke up before everyone and had a shower and washed my hair and started thinking about my half-siblings. I was thinking about them back when there were themed birthday parties (construction and princess, respectively) and the playing of "Good Guys and Naughties" (someone miss-heard the groups in World War 2) and "Mommy Daddy". These same creative minds discovered the most evil of all insults. It came at the end of every major tussle: "You're OLD!" "NO! You're OLD!" Ah, but they were sweet little things. When their nearly constant companion asked me how old I was, I answered "Twenty." He looked startled and said softly and hesitantly "Twenty? That's.......old." My half-siblings jumped to my defense, though it seemed half-hearted. I could see that to them 20 did, indeed, sound old.
Now I'm 28. If 20 was old, what would those children think now? Luckily they're a bit older, so maybe there is a bit of a different perspective. I began wondering what my child self would think about me at 28. What accomplishments I would have achieved. I thought back to games of MASH and plans with my best friend of running a candy/wooden toy shop on Prince Edward Island. I thought of how near I am to 30.
I dried and dressed and emerged from the steamy bathroom and there in front of me stood Ivo's 83 year old grandmother. Had Ivo not been asleep she may very well have sung "Happy Bitrthday to you" with the childish line "Aprikose in de' Hose". The woman hikes with speed, makes silly faces and jokes and sees without glasses. Then I realized that calling myself "OLD" was an insult to her. I accepted my birthday kisses and ate too many sweets and had a fantastic birthday.
Now I'm 28. If 20 was old, what would those children think now? Luckily they're a bit older, so maybe there is a bit of a different perspective. I began wondering what my child self would think about me at 28. What accomplishments I would have achieved. I thought back to games of MASH and plans with my best friend of running a candy/wooden toy shop on Prince Edward Island. I thought of how near I am to 30.
I dried and dressed and emerged from the steamy bathroom and there in front of me stood Ivo's 83 year old grandmother. Had Ivo not been asleep she may very well have sung "Happy Bitrthday to you" with the childish line "Aprikose in de' Hose". The woman hikes with speed, makes silly faces and jokes and sees without glasses. Then I realized that calling myself "OLD" was an insult to her. I accepted my birthday kisses and ate too many sweets and had a fantastic birthday.
Montag, 31. August 2009
I think that I may like commuting.
Yesterday I was at ZHAW, where I will attend classes starting September, in Winterthur. On the train trip home I instinctively grabbed the Blick Am Abend laying on the nearby seat and read the front page story. (Blick am Abend is one of the trashier of the free newspapers offered to commuters.) The story was about Caster Semenya and wether or not she is male or female. The choice of words in the headline turned my stomach. As one of the teenaged girls picked up the paper Ivo and my repetitive conversation about misinformation with the illusion of information due to these free newspapers. The girl who'd begun reading the paper guffawed at the "manly woman: when is a man a man?" headline and then started talking to her friend about women who walk around with short hair "-shorthair is cute what's your point?" her friend interrupted. The friend tried to explain that she meant those women who walk around in sports clothes. Before I could internaly groan her friend said "I have trouble understanding other people's styles too. Like, wearing tons of make up and tripping around on high heels, that's not for me." I was so relieved. I was preparing myself internally for hatefull ideas sprung up from the trashy newspaper but instead found myself being excited about all of the usefull things that I can learn eavesdropping on my daily commute. That, or I could just read my purchased newspaper, I suppose.
Dienstag, 16. Juni 2009
Those were the days
"This diner was built over FIFTY years ago!!" joked Eddie Izzard about the lack of history in America. I get it and it's funny, but I don't believe that it's simply that people in the US don't revere historical buildings or history in general. The US is a young nation, we couldn't possibly have buildings as old as Europe's, because we've not been around as long. When I met my mother-in-law, she seemed to share Eddie Izzard's views, when it came to American cities. To be fair, she'd mostly spent her time in LA and NY. When my husband graduated from college, he and his folks came down to see me in Philadelphia. There, my mother-in-law was able to see some of the oldest buildings in the states and was reminded that, in Boston, she had seen evidence of historical buildings. I enjoyed Philadelphia and it's history. Though I felt sad and embarrassed for the portly fellows who had to stroll through humid summers in Ben Franklin costumes, I liked seeing the birthplace of my nation every day.To get to my favorite sushi place, I passed by the Liberty bell and Independence Hall.
Now I'm in Europe, "where the history comes from" (or so said Eddie Izzard) and I appreciate the historical preservation of buildings. More important than my location, my age has changed my appreciation of history. This year is the 20th anniversary of the Berlin wall and the 15th anniversary of Tianman Square. I have lived through both of those occasions. I remember them, on some level. Three years ago was the 20th anniversary of the Challenger falling from the sky and I remembered being a four year when it happened. I experience a different feeling on these anniversaries, compared to those that I did not live through. On the anniversaries of Hiroshima, I was able to call to mind the melted statue at the UN in New York, but it was still something distant for me. On anniversaries like D-day or JFK's assassination, I like to hear the stories, but have absolutely no personal connection. If anything, I feel quite critical, considering what I know what came next, instead of what it meant for the people living through it.
I am almost 28 and it seems that I am now better able to understand the historical marking of time through events, because I've begun to personally mark time through events. I am now old enough to look back and see that it is 13 years since I had my lower-intestine removed, I will celebrate my second wedding anniversary, it is 10 years since I moved out of my mother's house. I understand the difference of a 5 year anniversary, compared to a 10 year anniversary, when remembering something painful. When California postponed the announcement of the decision of whether or not to overturn proposition 8 (banning gay marriage), it was in recognition of the power that a day can have for the collective conscience. Who knows how such an announcement would have been received on the anniversary of the White Night riots. (The riots in 1979 in response to the sentenceing of the man who killed an important gay activist.) Sitting in a cinema in Switzerland over two years ago, watching a preview for the World Trade Center, I whispered "It's too soon". Words that I never quite understood before.
I wonder what our generation's impact will have on the commemoration of significant days. I, myself, have been known to celebrate silly anniversaries. Trying to find a fun way to celebrate my husband's 26th birthday, I arranged it as an anniversary of his 6th birthday. We went to a dinosaur museum, as he had done 20 years before, and had pizza with his friends. As gifts, he received Lego's and an RC airplane (he'd wanted to be a pilot when he was 6). Others in my age group are wearing The Berlin Wall fashion line, celebrating the anniversary of the Berlin wall in spray-painted 80's style T-shirts. That makes me nervous. I understand that the fall of the wall was a positive thing and that a certain amount of levity is appropriate, but I wonder how my peers will affect the tradition of paying tribute in the future. We who cover songs and adapt classic literature, we who think that Regan coined the phrase "city on a hill", we who buy new models of electronics as often as possible, we will dictate the method of remembering for the next generation. "Where were you?" is a phrase often used when looking back to a historic event, but it is typically only part of it. I fear that my young adults, who remember where they were on September 11th 2001 and on the day a black man became president of the US, will focus on that aspect and not the change in the world that each global event has had.
Now I'm in Europe, "where the history comes from" (or so said Eddie Izzard) and I appreciate the historical preservation of buildings. More important than my location, my age has changed my appreciation of history. This year is the 20th anniversary of the Berlin wall and the 15th anniversary of Tianman Square. I have lived through both of those occasions. I remember them, on some level. Three years ago was the 20th anniversary of the Challenger falling from the sky and I remembered being a four year when it happened. I experience a different feeling on these anniversaries, compared to those that I did not live through. On the anniversaries of Hiroshima, I was able to call to mind the melted statue at the UN in New York, but it was still something distant for me. On anniversaries like D-day or JFK's assassination, I like to hear the stories, but have absolutely no personal connection. If anything, I feel quite critical, considering what I know what came next, instead of what it meant for the people living through it.
I am almost 28 and it seems that I am now better able to understand the historical marking of time through events, because I've begun to personally mark time through events. I am now old enough to look back and see that it is 13 years since I had my lower-intestine removed, I will celebrate my second wedding anniversary, it is 10 years since I moved out of my mother's house. I understand the difference of a 5 year anniversary, compared to a 10 year anniversary, when remembering something painful. When California postponed the announcement of the decision of whether or not to overturn proposition 8 (banning gay marriage), it was in recognition of the power that a day can have for the collective conscience. Who knows how such an announcement would have been received on the anniversary of the White Night riots. (The riots in 1979 in response to the sentenceing of the man who killed an important gay activist.) Sitting in a cinema in Switzerland over two years ago, watching a preview for the World Trade Center, I whispered "It's too soon". Words that I never quite understood before.
I wonder what our generation's impact will have on the commemoration of significant days. I, myself, have been known to celebrate silly anniversaries. Trying to find a fun way to celebrate my husband's 26th birthday, I arranged it as an anniversary of his 6th birthday. We went to a dinosaur museum, as he had done 20 years before, and had pizza with his friends. As gifts, he received Lego's and an RC airplane (he'd wanted to be a pilot when he was 6). Others in my age group are wearing The Berlin Wall fashion line, celebrating the anniversary of the Berlin wall in spray-painted 80's style T-shirts. That makes me nervous. I understand that the fall of the wall was a positive thing and that a certain amount of levity is appropriate, but I wonder how my peers will affect the tradition of paying tribute in the future. We who cover songs and adapt classic literature, we who think that Regan coined the phrase "city on a hill", we who buy new models of electronics as often as possible, we will dictate the method of remembering for the next generation. "Where were you?" is a phrase often used when looking back to a historic event, but it is typically only part of it. I fear that my young adults, who remember where they were on September 11th 2001 and on the day a black man became president of the US, will focus on that aspect and not the change in the world that each global event has had.
Freitag, 29. Mai 2009
don't judge a book by it's something nice about a person don't say anything at all
There was an advertisement for Hannah Montana on the back of 20 Minuten Freitag today. I've never seen the show or heard her music, but understand that she's a pop icon for tweens, but I'd never realized that the only characteristic making her one personality different from the other is her hair color.
My first reaction was "give me a break", but then I thought about Clark Kent and Superman and that was just a hair style and a pair of glasses. I suppose that one must suspend disbelief for that sort of entertainment. But then I got to thinking about my old favorite cartoon Jem.
Jem had two different identities that involved more than hair color and glasses. As Jem, she was a rockstar and, if I remember correctly, maybe she fought crime? I dunno, there was another band and they were the bad guys and they were called the Misfits. Her mild-mannered identity was some sort of philanthropist who had a mansion that was an orphanage and there was a big computer and magic earrings and an episode about the dangers of drugs.
What's truly important is that both of her identities had the SAME BOYFRIEND. Jem's identities were secret to him, but she knew that she was two-timing her, because she was her girl on the side. This upset me as a kid. For some reason I understood that we were meant to suspend disbelief for things like Clark Kent and Superman but Jem never jived with me.
My first reaction was "give me a break", but then I thought about Clark Kent and Superman and that was just a hair style and a pair of glasses. I suppose that one must suspend disbelief for that sort of entertainment. But then I got to thinking about my old favorite cartoon Jem.
Jem had two different identities that involved more than hair color and glasses. As Jem, she was a rockstar and, if I remember correctly, maybe she fought crime? I dunno, there was another band and they were the bad guys and they were called the Misfits. Her mild-mannered identity was some sort of philanthropist who had a mansion that was an orphanage and there was a big computer and magic earrings and an episode about the dangers of drugs.
What's truly important is that both of her identities had the SAME BOYFRIEND. Jem's identities were secret to him, but she knew that she was two-timing her, because she was her girl on the side. This upset me as a kid. For some reason I understood that we were meant to suspend disbelief for things like Clark Kent and Superman but Jem never jived with me.
Freitag, 22. Mai 2009
Coming this July
The new Harry Potter film is coming soon and I am just so darn excited. I am reminded of the summer the 6th book came out. It was the day that I was to be flying to Switzerland. The UPENN bookstore was selling them at midnight to a limited amount of customers and I intended to be in that limited amount. The evening began with a viewing of Charlie and the Chocolate factory with a bag of sweeties. Then I waltzed down the street to the bookstore ready to claim my book.
The line was fantastic. Some people in costumes, some not, some Sorority girls selling adult beverages to we waiters, it was a hoot. That is, until I was three people from the door and the booksellers announced that they were closing. I was crushed.
So I scooted on home, checked my luggage and went to sleep. The next morning I headed to JFK airport and tah-dah!!!! there was a whole stand of harry potter's books right in the entry way. It was marvelous. Fantastic. I was so excited that I read the whole flight. I'd never done that before. I read the whole flight and that, mixed with going straight from the airport straight up into the mountains resulted in the worst jet-lag-inspired insomnia I've ever experienced. By day three I was so out of it it was insane. In the mountains in Austria Ivo wanted to try to help me to sleep and offered to read to me.
"Ok" I sobbed, absolutely beside myself from exhaustion and inability to sleep.
"Are you good and comfy?"
"*sniff* yes"
"Alright 'Snape rushed down the tower stairs. Beneath red and green curses were flying. The wolf.....' Jessy, I don't think that this is very soothing reading."
It was definitely not. Lucily Ivo switched to Der Schwarm and I dropped right off.
Later that summer Lucas joined us on the Lake of Constance after a stint in London. He'd been there with a theater school and escorted the teenagers to a bookshop in London at midnight to be the first to buy their books (As far as I know, Lucas still resolutely refuses to read any Harry Potter book). He waited with them "chapperoning" them and fending off skeezy men from hitting on the naive young women.
At one point a group of drunke guys came to the end of the line and said "What club is that then?"
an excited 16 year old cheerfully answered "It's a bookstore! We're waiting for the new Harry Potter!"
"Cuing up for a fucing book? Can you be seriuos?"
That was a great summer.
Meanwhile I arrived back to the states to find the boy I babysat for completely destroyed. Without spoinling anything, the book was a bit too musch reality for a fantasy series.
The line was fantastic. Some people in costumes, some not, some Sorority girls selling adult beverages to we waiters, it was a hoot. That is, until I was three people from the door and the booksellers announced that they were closing. I was crushed.
So I scooted on home, checked my luggage and went to sleep. The next morning I headed to JFK airport and tah-dah!!!! there was a whole stand of harry potter's books right in the entry way. It was marvelous. Fantastic. I was so excited that I read the whole flight. I'd never done that before. I read the whole flight and that, mixed with going straight from the airport straight up into the mountains resulted in the worst jet-lag-inspired insomnia I've ever experienced. By day three I was so out of it it was insane. In the mountains in Austria Ivo wanted to try to help me to sleep and offered to read to me.
"Ok" I sobbed, absolutely beside myself from exhaustion and inability to sleep.
"Are you good and comfy?"
"*sniff* yes"
"Alright 'Snape rushed down the tower stairs. Beneath red and green curses were flying. The wolf.....' Jessy, I don't think that this is very soothing reading."
It was definitely not. Lucily Ivo switched to Der Schwarm and I dropped right off.
Later that summer Lucas joined us on the Lake of Constance after a stint in London. He'd been there with a theater school and escorted the teenagers to a bookshop in London at midnight to be the first to buy their books (As far as I know, Lucas still resolutely refuses to read any Harry Potter book). He waited with them "chapperoning" them and fending off skeezy men from hitting on the naive young women.
At one point a group of drunke guys came to the end of the line and said "What club is that then?"
an excited 16 year old cheerfully answered "It's a bookstore! We're waiting for the new Harry Potter!"
"Cuing up for a fucing book? Can you be seriuos?"
That was a great summer.
Meanwhile I arrived back to the states to find the boy I babysat for completely destroyed. Without spoinling anything, the book was a bit too musch reality for a fantasy series.
Abonnieren
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