Visits to and fro

The last ten days have been ones of comings and goings. We had the pleasure of Sara's company for five wonderful days. More accurately, I had that pleasure for five days and Henry had it for half of that in situ and half in absentia (he had a meeting in Frankfort). Sleep and laundry took the top spots on Sara's agenda, but catching up with us was not far behind. She allowed us to wine and dine her and to show her a few more Zurich sites which she could not see during her short visit here over New Year's. The main attractions were a boat ride on the Zurich See, outdoor (and semi-indoor) markets, and a visit to the Lindt-Sprungli chocolate factory. Sara definitely brought the sunshine with her, both literally (we haven't had so many consecutive decent weather days before or since) and figuratively (her smile can light up any space, especially ours--as my father used to say, she was "a sight for sore eyes"!). Even though Sara was concerned that our hausgemachte fondue would taste the same as she remembered from having cheese fondue when she was six years old, i.e., like American Swiss cheese (the kind with the big holes, which Sara abhors--not the holes, but the stuff around the holes), this time our fondue was once again a big hit! (Fondue may well end up being the thing we will miss most when we move from Switzerland to Germany!) While Henry was away (this way, he did not have to feel bad about being dragged along or feel bad about choosing not joining us), Sara and I attended a dance performance called "Rock the Ballet"--modern ballet accompanied by songs sung by Queen and Michael Jackson, among others. The dancers, six men and one woman, were fantastic--they were unbelievably athletic, limber, and graceful.

Sara is now back in the US, after 7 months abroad. Prior to her departure from Zurich, she was more concerned with culture shock than with the fact that she remains displaced because our house is rented. Also, when she returns to school in Chicago, she will have to switch mental gears from German and French back to Hebrew, which she studied during her first two years of college and will continue this spring. As Sara is wont to say, "she'll figure it out." Hopefully, winter will be sufficiently over in Chicago (sometimes, it's not over until May), so that her reconnection with the US will be somewhat eased.

I seized the opportunity to switch language gears when Henry and I left for Lausanne just a few hours after Sara departed. It helped that Sara left her French dictionary with us. Last Friday, Henry gave a talk at the Lausanne version of the federal technical institute that Henry is visiting in Zurich. I spent the day taking in museums that did not exist when I was last in Lausanne, nearly 40 years ago. The headquarters of the International Olympic Committee is in Lausanne, so as a world sports fan (well, maybe not curling, biathlon (cross-country skiing and shooting), and cricket), I ventured off to the Olympic Museum, which is in a park overlooking Lake Geneva. I very much enjoyed a view of Olympic history without the mostly American-only perspective displayed on television by NBC. However, that did not stop me from using one of two free (included with the cost of admission) video clips from their library to watch one of my all-time favorite figure skaters, American Paul Wylie, skate to a silver medal in the 1992 Winter Olympics (probably only my two daughters will get a chuckle from that--sorry, an inside joke that would take too long to explain!). The other was of the men's track sprints in the 1968 Summer Olympics which caused an uproar among US Olympic Committee members when two US medal winners gave a black gloved Black Power salute on the medal stand while the national anthem was played. Once again, the running commentary was not NBC, and thus far more matter-of-fact. While in the park, I stopped at another museum, which displayed an exhibition of photographs of Los Angeles, from 1865 to 2008. What was particularly fascinating was the thematic manner of the display, e.g., Los Angeles, the Dream; Los Angeles, the nightmare; Los Angeles, the sun and beach; Los Angeles, reality or fiction; and so on. The third museum I visited, Collection de l'Art Brut, was the most interesting. The collection truly is a demonstration of the age old question--what makes something art? Personally, I don't see how a canvass of white paint is "art." This museum presents its revolving collection of works by individuals who generally have had no formal art training and tend not to be influenced by cultural expectations or directives. Many have produced their works while confined in mental institutions. They often use what materials they find around them, be it pencils, wood, or dried grass. One artist might have a fixation with numbers, while another might have a fixation with the most intricate of doodles.

On Saturday and Sunday, I had to step up my French speaking skills as we spent the rest of weekend having reunions with members of the French Swiss family who hosted me on their farm for six weeks during the summer of 1970. After nearly 3 months with German surrounding me, I was finally "in my element." Madame Goldfrank (Mamaroneck HS French teacher) would have been proud of me, but it's just as well she didn't hear me--when I couldn't think of the correct word or conjugation, I made it up! Whatever, I was well understood and could carry the load for those family members who did not speak English. As is the case when I try to speak German (when I can't think of the word in German, I automatically go first to the French word), the same happened in reverse when trying to speak French. By the time we arrived back in Zurich on Sunday evening, I was exhausted from the language gymnastics! Nevertheless, it was a wonderful time had by all, culminating with a genuine home-grown Sunday meal on the farm--chicken, potatoes, raspberries, and schnapps. We hope some of the family will come for a visit in Munich!

With just a few days before the upcoming arrival of our next guest, Beth Jay, I managed one more day of skiing--a day trip to Flumserberg. Among the various ski areas to which I have traveled this winter, this one is definitely the most convenient by train from Zurich. I was able to get up at a sane hour and still arrive at the gondola by 9:30AM. The snow (on the ground, that is) was wonderful, but it snowed all day. That in itself was not a problem. Rather, it was the wind that repeatedly gusted so hard I could barely push myself down the slopes in some spots. One benefit of the weather conditions was that there was barely anyone on the mountain. Therefore, even if I couldn't see, I didn't have to worry about running into anyone!! In the afternoon, I discovered an identifiable trail with trees on both sides (no, none in the middle like at many American ski areas). It was great--I could not only see, but no one else was on it. Maybe with all of the wide open slopes that make up most of the ski areas I've now been to in Switzerland, Swiss skiers haven't figured out that the visibility is far better when skiing next to the trees, not to mention that it is far less windy! I finally gave up when I started getting nervous on the lifts--even the gondolas were swaying in the wind! Had this been the US, I imagine the lifts, other than T-bars, would have been closed hours earlier due to the heavy winds.

Okay, back to my German language adventures. While riding the train to my skiing destination, I tried to work on my German by reading one of the many free daily newspapers. I came across a fine example of how German words sometimes grow to ridiculous lengths-Doppelbesteuerngsabkommens, which takes three words to translate into English--double taxation agreements (I think!).

Gotta clean up for our next house guest!