At the midnight on Thursday I told a man dressed as a pirate it was my birthday, apparently it was my nautical friends as well. We cheers it with tequila, who know maybe he patroles the southern waters. Either way the Spring Brothers pub enabled yet another night of debauchery. A new face is added to our trio, Jake is a Georgia boy who headed north for Ohio State University. His 6'6" stature is softened by southern colloquials like "well who'
s gunna do that you and the frog in your pocket?" ...frog in your pocket, now I've heard a number of Dixie statements from my good friend Leah who's taught me oddities like mud boggin and mean muggin but this one is down right silly. Either way he meshed well into our tripod and by the end of the night we all clopped home arm in arm, him proclaiming that this was going to be a great semester, I agreed. I woke up early with that Christmas excitement of it being my birthday, and woke up the gang. Jake had left early for a weekend in Berlin and Alex was drained from the night before leaving Caitlin and I to head out for La rue est vous (the streets are 
yours) an annual street festival where everyone in the neighbourhood sets up shop. There are allot of clothes bags and shoes but also home cooked food stands, dj's playing techno, accordions and children kicking soccer balls. When combining my love for garage sales with street fairs you have the equation for a perfect day, an amazing birthday. I ate nutella cake that 
was phenomenal. "Now how many people can say they have eaten nutella cake on there birthday." Caitlin joked "No one I know" I respond with a smile and a sip of espresso. We play around with old women's glasses, sort through dusty jewelry and dig thought plies of clothing and I wonder when someone will pinch me and I'll wake up from this fantasy where no one speaks my language. Sometimes its nice to not understand anyone, you can imagine that there flowing words are discussing beautiful things, like art or philosophy. The chime of strange sounds makes the whole place seem magical. When I do hear American accents it sounds a bit startling to my ears, like when you take a sip of water and expect it to be Orange Juice and you brain needs a moment to register what has happened. With our new treasures of sunglasses and jewelery boxes we tram home to grab Alex and head out to dinner. we find a small cute place with white linen table cloths and a huge wine list. Our charming waiter is uneasy with his English and often closes his eyes to remember words. "ughhh how you say for this?" he eventually gives up and points to my napkin. We tell him and he repeats in a few times storing it to memory. On his recommendation and the place being out of duck I enjoy a beau
tiful steak smothered in mushroom, the best scalloped potatoes I have ever had, green beans and a glass of Swiss wine....Happy Birthday to me. We wander around Geneve in search of dessert. Now in the city of chocolate you would think we wouldn't be able to swing a cat without hitting one, but it was close to eleven and this city was singing itself to sleep. We stop at a late night pastry stand where the women/ baker hands me an apple turnover still warm from the oven. Now some how from getting on the tram to getting off at our stop a valve must have broke in the sky because our walk back to our home was a soaking wet one. Any attempts at covering your self were futile so laughing was my only option that and the occasional "you've got to be kidding me". Maybe its from living in Michigan but there is something about changing into dry clothes that will always remind me of home. Its that perfect mix of dryness and warmth. Now for a day and 
night nothing short of perfection parts of me ached to be around... my people. To find out what throughout present Carla had come up with, or to smile while Viki takes extra care to make sure the day goes perfectly. Today reminded me that birthdays are beautiful reminders of the people who love you. Even in the most charming of things in the most elegant of places are just things in places with out hugs from Jon or cupcakes from Belinda. Home sickness always rears its ugly head in the strangest of places, in Mali it was with a bunch of expats while eating tacos around a pool and I suppose here it was my birthday. I know that these three months will zoom by in what will seem like a whirl of memory's all to soon. I promise to remember my birthday in Switzerland as I have it here because the happiest sadness is missing those you love.
s gunna do that you and the frog in your pocket?" ...frog in your pocket, now I've heard a number of Dixie statements from my good friend Leah who's taught me oddities like mud boggin and mean muggin but this one is down right silly. Either way he meshed well into our tripod and by the end of the night we all clopped home arm in arm, him proclaiming that this was going to be a great semester, I agreed. I woke up early with that Christmas excitement of it being my birthday, and woke up the gang. Jake had left early for a weekend in Berlin and Alex was drained from the night before leaving Caitlin and I to head out for La rue est vous (the streets are 
yours) an annual street festival where everyone in the neighbourhood sets up shop. There are allot of clothes bags and shoes but also home cooked food stands, dj's playing techno, accordions and children kicking soccer balls. When combining my love for garage sales with street fairs you have the equation for a perfect day, an amazing birthday. I ate nutella cake that 
was phenomenal. "Now how many people can say they have eaten nutella cake on there birthday." Caitlin joked "No one I know" I respond with a smile and a sip of espresso. We play around with old women's glasses, sort through dusty jewelry and dig thought plies of clothing and I wonder when someone will pinch me and I'll wake up from this fantasy where no one speaks my language. Sometimes its nice to not understand anyone, you can imagine that there flowing words are discussing beautiful things, like art or philosophy. The chime of strange sounds makes the whole place seem magical. When I do hear American accents it sounds a bit startling to my ears, like when you take a sip of water and expect it to be Orange Juice and you brain needs a moment to register what has happened. With our new treasures of sunglasses and jewelery boxes we tram home to grab Alex and head out to dinner. we find a small cute place with white linen table cloths and a huge wine list. Our charming waiter is uneasy with his English and often closes his eyes to remember words. "ughhh how you say for this?" he eventually gives up and points to my napkin. We tell him and he repeats in a few times storing it to memory. On his recommendation and the place being out of duck I enjoy a beau
tiful steak smothered in mushroom, the best scalloped potatoes I have ever had, green beans and a glass of Swiss wine....Happy Birthday to me. We wander around Geneve in search of dessert. Now in the city of chocolate you would think we wouldn't be able to swing a cat without hitting one, but it was close to eleven and this city was singing itself to sleep. We stop at a late night pastry stand where the women/ baker hands me an apple turnover still warm from the oven. Now some how from getting on the tram to getting off at our stop a valve must have broke in the sky because our walk back to our home was a soaking wet one. Any attempts at covering your self were futile so laughing was my only option that and the occasional "you've got to be kidding me". Maybe its from living in Michigan but there is something about changing into dry clothes that will always remind me of home. Its that perfect mix of dryness and warmth. Now for a day and 
night nothing short of perfection parts of me ached to be around... my people. To find out what throughout present Carla had come up with, or to smile while Viki takes extra care to make sure the day goes perfectly. Today reminded me that birthdays are beautiful reminders of the people who love you. Even in the most charming of things in the most elegant of places are just things in places with out hugs from Jon or cupcakes from Belinda. Home sickness always rears its ugly head in the strangest of places, in Mali it was with a bunch of expats while eating tacos around a pool and I suppose here it was my birthday. I know that these three months will zoom by in what will seem like a whirl of memory's all to soon. I promise to remember my birthday in Switzerland as I have it here because the happiest sadness is missing those you love.
Like I said, your posts read like chapters. They are like the sought after pages of unpublished books; I can never wait for the next one to appear!
ReplyDeleteWe can have cupcakes when you are home. I will make them especially shaped like a turkey. :)
*tears* (yet again!)
ReplyDeletei'm so glad you had a happy birthday. i cant wait to see you again.
hahah, the southern slang of, "well who's gunna do that you and the frog in your pocket?" and your colloquialism, "wouldn't be able to swing a cat without hitting one." so funny, the animal expressions are great. so glad you had a good birthday! miss you!!
ReplyDelete