...enter the bicycle

I’m pretty sure the species of small children are closely related to the species of zombies: as soon as you have been discovered by a small child, particularly one of an inquisitive nature, its face breaks into a lopsided grin and it begins to stagger towards you, its motion unhindered by and unheeding of obstacles in its way. You may observe the Zombie Effect when riding a bicycle through the park: all of the sudden, garishly clad small creatures start wobbling, scenting a live one and moving in for the kill. As a person, I love children and I love dogs, but as a bicyclist, the two things I hate most are… children and dogs. Dogs on their own are bad, but as soon as they figure out you’re bearing down on them at 20 kph they move out of your way; the only problem is knowing where they’ll go. The only hitch: dogs on leashes. The dog notices you’re coming, and often the owner as well—and then the owner goes left and the dog goes right and you get clothesline. Children are worse; they lack the situational awareness, keen senses and self-preservation instinct of your average pooch, they move erratically and you have no idea in which direction they will move next—and unlike dogs, they often don’t respond when you call them.

Biking in Geneva has been fun. Compared to Germany the place is either a biker’s paradise or anarchy, depending on your view. In Germany, it’s considered a moving violation to cross ON FOOT against a light; therefore, the joke is, it’s always the Germans waiting at a deserted streetlight at 3 AM for the light to change. Doing so on a bike can cost you 90 euros. I couldn’t imagine biking in Italy or even in France; there, traffic is so chaotic as to make the endeavour practically suicidal. Geneva is the pleasant mix of the two: there are bike lanes and traffic lights for us—but basic traffic rules seem to be generally disregarded by bicyclists. You look, if no one is coming, you go, and you expect traffic to yield to you---and it does! However, the traffic in Geneva is worse than in Freiburg, and it is likely you will cross intersections with two tramlines, four lanes of traffic coming in at odd angles, and a mass of pedestrians, and the tram tracks provide interesting spice to your navigation of traffic. My one and only bike wreck involved me diving full-on into a creek when my tire got caught in the track on a rainy day.

I’m getting better. I can make it to class in 20 minutes and home in 25, if I’m in a hurry—and I seem to be perpetually in a hurry. I feel like I should wear motorcycle leathers, though, or a bike messenger bag instead of my usual skit and heels.

random...

No one told me grad school would be like kindergarten, and all of this was of my own free will so I can't really complain, but I have mostly done nothing today but read, eat, read, read, run, read, and go grocery shopping. And read. If, for some reason, I had to leave my room for some reason I could imagine you would find residual skin left over from where my fingers were glued to my computer. But I actually LIKE this stuff, or else I wouldn't be here, so it's all good.

In other news, I, like every other foreigner, have discovered what I would dare to term a Swiss phenomenon (please correct me, ye Suiss allemands, if this does not pertain to you) to require several passport photos for absolutely everything. I almost feel as if grocery shopping requires several pass photos, which are conveniently available at a passport-photo booth on every other street corner. I have absolutely no idea how many of my pictures are floating around Geneva, but I swear, for some things I've even had to give four or five, in several different sets. Just in case someone wanted to forge my identity at the office of sports, donchaknow...

Apparently there is no such thing in French as Suiss francophone, extrapolated from Suiss allemand (German-speaking Swiss), it's called suiss romande.

Other funny things I or other people have said in French:
-- ,,j'ai une tete ouverte" to which my teacher replied if we really had an "open head" (intending to say 'have an open mind') we would be in the hospital.
-- the words for pear, (bell) pepper, scallions, and (seasoning) pepper are easy to mix up in French.

Um....

Swissnotes--- for the under-motivated

So I went and moved to Switzerland. I am still getting over that one; every other time I’ve moved abroad (and there have been three of them) I’ve been moving to Germany. Now I speak German quite well and am so used to both the language and the culture that I don’t notice if I ask what time someone wants to stand up in the morning, bring my shopping bags with me and wait at red lights at empty intersections in the middle of the night without thinking twice. (But before I let you, dear reader, go on thinking I have nothing left to learn in German—which I may, out of hubris, occasionally claim—let me offer the following sentence uttered to explain that my friend had previously helped me move before as evidence that I am not and should not be mistaken for a native speaker: ,,Er hat mich schon mal umgezogen.” The verb ,umziehen’ refers to moving—and also to changing one’s clothes. Unfortunately, my usage of the verb points exclusively to the second meaning, implying that my friend has changed my clothes for me before.)

Here I am in a new country with a new bureaucracy, new rules and a new language with which I am not entirely familiar. I had long forgotten the days when I didn’t understand everything and where my verbal and written output was on intellectual par with your average four-year-old, except with less eloquence. It’s hard to get much beyond “I want, I need, I am, I won’t!” particularly as everyone here seems to speak English perfectly (and everything else too). Polyglots, I hate you all.

They say the bureaucracy here is typically Swiss—in that everything has to be done properly and orderly and with three copies to all relevant offices—and typically francophone, in that no one has any idea whatsoever how things are supposed to be done. Acquiring a residence permit for Switzerland is an exercise in patience, persistence and tenacity. I can only imagine what it’s like for those people who speak no French whatsoever….

J'suis arrivée!

J’habite en Suisse, c’est-à-dire je me suis installée à Genève, à cette ville où l’on a presque le niveau de vie le plus haut du monde. Après un long et bon séjour sans maison (depuis mai 2008) je suis fière de dire que j’ai une petite chambre à la cité-u. Tout d’abord, quand je suis arrivée, je n’était pas heureuse de voire cette petite boite où je passerai la prochaine année mais maintenant, après avoir parlé avec des autres dans mon cours d’études, je suis tout à fait satisfaite. La ville de Genève est au bord du Lac Léman, appelé du monde anglophone comme « lake Geneva » et est entourée de la France aux trois cotés. Le fleuve, « le Rhône », partage la ville en deux moitiés : la rive gauche et la rive droite. L’institut IHEID, où j’étudierai, est dans la rive gauche près de l’Organisation mondiale du commerce (engl. WTO) et de l’ONU (engl. UN), la croix rouge et plusieurs autres organisations non gouvernemental. L’institut est au bord du Lac dans un grand parc. À coté du Lac, à la direction de la Vielle Ville, sont le Bain de Pâquis et la gare de Cornavain. Sur le Rhône est le quai de Mont Blanc entre la rive gauche et la rive droite. Dans la rive droit il y a la vielle vile, le « shopping district » de Genève avec plusieurs magasins connus, le Jet d’Eau, et les districts de Carouge, Plainpalais et Champel. J’habite à Champel et j’ai besoin d’une demi-heure pour traverser la vielle au vélo.

La cité universitaire est située presque le bout de monde (marquée sur le plan de Genève comme « le bout de monde ») en dessus d’une berge très vertes. On peut y bien courir, faire du tennis, du football ou du basket-ball et la vue vers l’extérieur des fenêtres est tellement jolie. Il y a aussi une salle de séjour avec des journaux, les places dehors à manger ou jouer, le resto-u, un automate de café et de timbres, et une cuisine, deux toilettes et quatre douches à partager entre seize personnes. De plus, quelques-uns de mes amis y habitent aussi et on va manger ou passer le temps ensemble. Je me semble bien.

L’institut à mille étudiants dont environ 60 doivent apprendre le Français avant de commencer leurs études. On les a partagés en quatre groups d’un niveau débutant au niveau avancé. Moi, je suis dans le groupe le plus avancé et nous y parlons seulement en français. Mes compatriotes viennent du monde entier : de l’Argentine, Honduras, Russie, Vietnam, Italie, Afrique du Sud, Brésil, Kazakhstan, et des Etats-Unis d’Amérique. Le cours de français dure trois heures chaque jour et l’après-midi est libre. Nous avons assez à faire et tant de travail en recevant notre permis de séjour, ouvrant un compte dans la banque (plus difficile pour moi que j’ai attendu), trouvant un téléphone portable…. Nous avons passé un après-midi à la plage, avons fait les pique-niques ou sommes allés dans une boîte de nuit. Le temps faisait toujours beau et chaud, entre 25 et 28 degrés, la soleil brillait…