On staying in one place ... and the things you didn't realise that you didn't realise

Heeding the small hands on my legs pushing me out of the way, sidestepping small children running between my legs and ducking under the extended binder-bearing, frantically waving arms of focused mothers expertly managing back-to-school shopping has been just one more not-so subtle reminder that my beloved summer is on the verge of bidding farewell.  While the sun is still shining and the lake waters still invitingly refreshing, the days are suddenly slipping into dusk  much earlier and the mornings are beginning to have that crisp Fall morning flavor to them.

What does all of this mean?  That I have officially set a personal recent-history record ... I'm still living in the same place I was one year ago!  No moving boxes, no appartment searches, no scouring the classified ads for cheap furniture ... just an appartment that hasn't had the benefit of having the clutter cleaned out annually.

While this past year has had many an up and down, it has absolutely flown by.  Marcel's recent retelling of his encounter with an American guy at the entrance to the apartment building that apparently began something like this: (American guy) "Bon soir, je cherche un ... uh, ok, I'm here to see the apartment on the 5th floor??" -  brought back memories of me looking at (and applying for) a billion and one apartments this same time last year ...

A few select memories of Geneva year 1

• moving into an all women's residence hall and feeling like I was back to freshman year of college ...


• lucking out with an fantastic French roommate ... with whom I spoke only Spanish


• breaking down in tears of relief when I got the call offering us an apartment - I was en route to look at another and had just stepped off the tram.


• The look on the real estate woman's face when we went in to sign the contract and it was clear that we didn't even know which apartment we were signing for.  I'd applied to 40 some places and we hadn't been offered any of them ... this one was the second one I ever went to see and I'd seen so many since then that I didn't remember a thing about it


• First time speaking at the UN


• Waking up one morning and realizing that I actually can speak French fairly well


• Supporting the local economy by drinking hot wine in winter, by the litre


• Braving arctic cold, cutting wind Hash runs


• Curling up on the balcony to watch the spectacular thunder storms roll over the mountains


• Learning how to only breathe through your nose, keeping your lips sealed at all times so as not to swallow the hoards of bugs when running lakeside


• Establishing, planting and harvesting the balcony garden ... I've never eaten tomatoes as sweet as the ones we've grown!


• Evading the rooftop gardener and his not-so-tricky peeping Tom moves


• Discovering, after 11 months, that I actually live only 10 minutes from the lake by foot if I take the other road than the one I've been taking the whole time ...


• EuroCup madness

Coming back from vacation has also made me realise how much I didn't realise how much Geneva is becoming my community.  I run into people I know at the train station, the grocery store, by the lake, on the road, at the park.  Funny how you can move somewhere without knowing anyone and so quickly have people calling your name behind you.  Then there are the people that you see everyday (or nearly) and have that mutual but silent acknowledgment of presence ... so long as you see them "regularly", than the world must be turning all right. A few of the favs?

• The elderly woman with wrongly dyed purple hair (I think she was going for red, but it went a little wrong) always impeccably, proudly dressed, walking her poodle dog through the park at 8:15AM (she's my perfect monitor to know if I'm running late for work!) and scattering bird seeds along the way.  Always accompanied by a girlfriend and happily chattering away ... either to the friend, the dog or the birds, some of whom are sitting on her shoulder as she walks.


• The Salvadoran woman who owns the little after-hours corner store by my house. Short, stout in a fantastic grandmotherly sort of way, with glasses and grey streaked black hair meticulously tied into a tight, low-riding bun, her homemade empanadas, smile and warm chit chat are enough make you feel as though you've won the lottery.


• The man who pushes the his little old-fashioned music cart through town with his bear-sized cat curled up in a specially made bed on the front.


• The half-crazy guy who runs around town with his bike asking people if they could "just give him one smile" and asking "are you happy?"

Cheers to year two!