So here I am. My luggage still isn't, but I am back in my husband's arms, and that's all that really matters. If I lose everything I packed so carefully, it will be regrettable, but it won't change the memories. I would do it again, but not without my family. Being away from those I hold dear was just too hard.
Things are fine on the home front. I am so proud of my husband and how well he maintained things while I was away. It wasn't easy. The things he didn't get to are not important and will quickly be taken care of now that I am home. My role here is one of emotional support, clearly, and not physical assistance. Good to know and good to remember.
I look back on all the homesickness and yearning and wonder what it was all about. Life was just humming along normally here. I think the yearning was less for a place than for a feeling of security, of knowing just what my role is. My dear friend, Elif, told me one gets used to being the foreigner and to not doing anything right. I suppose you get used to anything if you experience it long enough. Most people, though, have trouble dealing with uncertainty. We like a certain regularity in our lives.
It seems like there should be some sort of culminating lesson here or some kind of closure, but nothing comes to mind. The big lessons had to do with the teaching, and I have shared those with my colleagues and my two principals. The little lessons I have tried to share with you along the way. Now that the journey is over there is nothing but laundry and souvenirs to put away and memories to treasure for a lifetime. There are new friends. I will try to stay in contact, and I'm sure there are some with whom I will stay in contact and perhaps see again.
No, wait--there is a lesson. It just came to me. The lesson is that the world really is a very small place after all. It takes hours and hours to travel it, but when you get as far away from home as you can, you find people who are pretty much like you. They may eat different foods and have different customs, but their basic needs, their joys and their sorrows are pretty much the same as yours. A lot of them are really good to know and are very interesting to talk to. It's important to learn some other languages so you can share more of yourself and learn more about them. It's also really, really important to take care of this planet so all the people who are living here will be able to continue doing so. Think about what you buy and the resources you consume. Try to live gently on this earth and preserve it for the future. There is so much beauty in the world. It would be a shame to allow it to be scraped off, burned and sold for temporary needs. We can't replace much of what we're destroying, but maybe we can stop the destruction. Get involved. Learn, love, laugh and reach out to your fellow man. Be at peace, and when your travels are over, know the joy of coming home.
Today is clean up day. We really filled the apartment yesterday. At the peak of the party my husband Skyped in and said hello to the assembled guests. Very cool. He had his own chair and everything. I bought a lot more food than I needed, so today I have to distribute what is left to the neighbors, clean everything up and restore the apartment to the state (more or less) in which I found it. It's time to go.
I have learned a great deal about building community here. It is possible to acquire a support group in a year's time, and I know if I were to stay there are people who would be my dearest friends. For anyone who is contemplating a change but who is reluctant to start anew, I say--go for it! The newness wears off. Yes, you yearn for what you had, but you will also gain much. The most important things are life are those you carry within you. If you are a person who carries love for your fellow man in your heart, you will find friends wherever you go.
I have to get moving, so this will be short. I'll post a final message when I get home, but I think this blog is reaching its end. The year is almost up. Last year this time I was trying to imagine what my new life would be like. Now I am thinking about how my new experiences will change the life I once had. It's always an adventure. May your life be an adventure too. If my story has changed you at all, I hope you will share that change with me. Our walk on this earth is short, and, if our stories are to have meaning, they must be shared. What's your story?
About three months ago I started counting the days to my departure. I was really homesick, and the counting helped me see light at the end of the tunnel. It got to be a catch-phrase at work: how many days, Diane? I always knew. Today the count stands at three.
Happily, I am much too busy to worry about how many hours or lose sleep over thoughts of my homecoming. No, I'm losing sleep over having enough food for my party. Yes, I am throwing a party. I billed it as a neighborhood get-together so folks would feel they should come just to see each other. I invited everybody I ever talked to on the street. I don't even know the names of most of these people, but I don't care. They have been very friendly. They have talked to me, their children have chatted with me, and they made me feel like I was part of the neighborhood. Y'all come!
The party is today at 5:00. I have eleven hours to finish pulling it together. I have a bit more shopping to do. It's impossible to do all the shopping in one trip as I have to carry everything on my back. Yesterday I came home with four bottles of wine, four liters of fruit juice, and assorted ingredients for crab Rangoon (I love crab Rangoon). I made chocolate chip cookies and ice tea. Imagine ice tea with no ice! You can't buy bags of ice here, although I'm told the fish department at the grocery will hand out shaved ice on request. We'll see if there is time.
I have informed the city officials I will no longer be living in Binningen. I turned in my keys to the head custodian at school at his party last night. His poor wife set everything up three times. She had the garden all decorated, and then it rained. The three of us moved everything under an overhang at the school (the custodian has an apartment on campus). Then the sun came out, and everyone moved back to the garden. My party is inside. If guests want to take it out on the street, they may carry their plates down there. I'm on the second floor (first floor to you Europeans).
I invited people from church to my party (whose names I actually know!) and three people from work who have been very special plus the lady from the Bollywood store who hugs me when I need it. This is my Swiss family. I will cook and clean today until party time. Tomorrow I will clean again and finish packing. Monday I fly home. The word home never sounded so good. Yesterday while I was baking I began singing songs about America. I had to stop, because I kept weeping in the middle.
I have been safely tucked in here in Switzerland. Just think how the people in our military must feel, far away from home and getting shot at. If anyone needs a party, it is they, not I. In a week we will celebrate the fourth of July. If you see a service person or know someone who is serving in our military, take time to tell them how very much their service means to us. It is not easy to be far from home, and these people deserve our deepest thanks and our very best consideration. God bless 'em!
That's "John's Day" in English and no, my dear brother-in-law, it has nothing to do with you. It is the celebration of the day Jesus was baptized by John. I guess everyone knows that happened on the 24th of June, right? One celebrates Johannistag by going to a sunrise service at church. It was held at the cathedral at 5:30 this morning. No, I am not Catholic. It is one of the two days in the year that the crypt chapel is open, and I wanted to see the crypt.
I guess my brain wasn't fully operational at 4:15 when I got up. I didn't think to take a flashlight. If you ever visit a crypt before dawn, take a flashlight. There were programs and song sheets, but they aren't very useful in the dark. The poor kids in the choir had to be there and listen to several long prayers before their part came. They had to memorize it, too. I didn't envy them. The brass concert band was playing in the sanctuary after the service, but I stayed in the crypt chapel. You see, the lady at the information desk told me in March that the crypt would be open today, and I wanted to see the Roman wall on which the cathedral was built. It's right off the chapel.
Several other people waited, too, but they were not waiting for the Roman wall. I believe they were waiting for the sunrise. It looked to me like once upon a time the windows were lined up so the rising sun would shine on the chapel altar on Johannistag. Trouble is, the cathedral was built in 13 hundred and something-or-other, so the earth has shifted a bit since then. If that weren't enough, there are trees and buildings outside. A bit of sun made it through, but not dramatically on the altar. I think the lady who was madly (and annoyingly) taking flash pictures with her cell phone was a bit disappointed.
It looked as if I, too, were going to be disappointed. We were down to three people, and the door to the Roman ruins was firmly locked. A man appeared with keys, so I asked him about it. He told me there had been a misunderstanding. One can see the Roman wall only during regular tours. I must have looked pretty woebegone, because he opened the door, flipped on the lights and showed me. I could go in if I didn't walk on the grave stones. Of course, I went in!
There is an amazing similarity among all the Roman remnants I have seen in this part of the world. The type of rock varies a bit, but the construction is the same. This room bore a striking resemblance to the temple at Kaiseraugst just upriver from here. On the floor lay huge slabs of redish sandstone-like material engraved with names, dates and honorifics. One I could more easily make out bore a date of MDXXXXII or 1542. I didn't want to ask the nice man to stay too long, so I didn't read the rest. One stone was a giant, polished oval of black granite which was really beautiful. Must have been a rich guy. The red stone is a lot softer and is the same material from which the cathedral itself is made. It really shows the wear.
I make no secret of the fact that my education is seriously lacking in the history department. During the 60s and 70s when I was in school and at the university, it wasn't the fashion to study western civilization. We were trying to learn from the orient. I studied Indian history. (Not native Americans but Asian Indians) This trip has really expanded my knowledge in a way that isn't possible when your history education is all in a book. I have traveled around, and I know exactly how far apart all these Roman ruins are. Not only that, but I know there are more ruins in England, Spain and, amazingly, Rome. That was one giant empire, folks. Seeing it on a map just doesn't bring it home to you like taking the train from ruin to ruin. It would make a very cool project to explore it all and put together a portfolio of pictures showing the similarities among the various sites. Of course, the final work would fill volumes.
I can just hear my students back home saying, "Why is this so important? Why do we have to know this?" To them I say, just look how vast this culture was. Where is it today? It exists only in ruins. Its language is splintered into a dozen or so fragments that bear only passing resemblance to the Latin once spoken throughout the (then) known world. All things pass away, be they great or small. We are standing on the bones of what once was, just as other peoples will one day stand on our bones (presuming we don't foul the earth to the point of its destruction). Be grateful for the grandeur of today where you can find it. Treasure what is beautiful. Learn from the past and build for the future, because today is but one flutter of a butterfly's wing on a brief summer's day over the long sweep of eternity.
Switzerland is unbelievably beautiful. I got the complete eyeful yesterday as I took advantage of my farewell present from the school--an all day pass on the railroad. What a great present! I simply love train travel, and this was train travel plus.
Because I didn't have to pay for the ticket, and because I am learning to treat myself in these last days, I bought a first class upgrade that kicks in after 9:00 a.m. when the commuter traffic is over. It was a good idea. On the first leg of my journey, there were no less than three school groups aboard. They make just as much noise as our school groups, and I find it tiresome when I am on my own time. I did, however, have a very nice chat with a teacher during our hour together.
On my second leg I was able to switch to first class. This was especially nice as my colleague had suggested the panoramic train through the alps down to Lake Geneva. The first class coach is especially elegant. You see a picture at the head of this post. The right hand picture was taken from one of the huge windows of the train, and the middle picture is of the port at Luzern (or Lausanne as the French speakers spell it).
The panoramic train trip lasted just under two hours with some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever enjoyed. The mountains are green this time of year, and the hillsides are dotted with cows. Rushing freshets of melt water rush downhill beside the train tracks as the snow recedes from the peaks. Every valley has a little village with a quaint church, lovely wooden chalets and boxes and boxes of geraniums at every window. Many of the chalets are also painted or bear beautifully lettered sayings which are, unfortunately, too far from the train to read properly.
My panoramic ride ended in Montreaux on the shore of Lake Geneva. It is very picturesque. Unfortunately, it was raining as I left the train. I was starving, but the grey skies were kind of discouraging. I wandered down to the pier where I saw a boat was just about to leave for Lausanne. I used my terrible French to inquire if there was an on board restaurant. Indeed there was. I hopped aboard.
People with food allergies should never leap so wildly into the unknown. While there was a restaurant aboard, many of the dishes were already sold out, including all of the things I can eat safely. I had a third (okay, I'm greedy) breakfast of coffee, cappuchino and croissant instead of a proper meal. I would have to wait until 2:30 for a proper meal. Still, the scenery was stupendous. Lake Geneva is dubbed ( by some, anyway) the Swiss Riviera. While it isn't as colorful or as warm as the real Riviera, it is very beautiful. I thoroughly enjoyed the scenery and looked forward to docking in Lausanne and finding a good restaurant. Better late than never.
As it turned out, though, late is never. In the smaller towns, restaurants often close in the late afternoon. There wasn't a single one open in the vicinity of the pier except for the one at the five star restaurant where meals start at 90 franks. I wasn't that hungry! I found a sandwich shop which was also closed, but one of the employees told me to try the train station. Not a bad idea. There was a döner stand there (döner are pita bread sandwiches and are the fast food of the German speaking world). Unfortunately, they don't serve in the summer--too warm. The man at the counter there was sympathetic and directed me to a place where I could be served. So at 3:00 I finally had lunch. The bread was dry, but I didn't care. While I ate I conversed in halting English (theirs) with single French words badly spoken (mine) with two recent immigrants from Senegal. They seemed a bit shady, so I was glad our limited vocabulary allowed me to evade questions I didn't like. We went our separate ways after lunch.
I should say at this point that being in the French speaking part of Switzerland is exactly like being in France. I had to keep reminding myself that I was not in a different country and that my money would work fine here. All the signs are in French. All the people speak French. If you ask a question in German, they answer in English. They do not like to speak German. The whole transit system is monolingual, and the language is French. There are some things with German and English labels, but not the transit system. I guess they don't want anyone wandering around the city who isn't fluent in French. I have to study the route maps for a very long time, but I usually can figure them out. I just keep giving my place up and waiting until I am sure where I am going.
I wandered around for a couple of hours looking at the local castle (there is always a local castle) and admiring statues of sort of non-military heroes. There are Swiss generals, but they weren't really in any wars. Makes for sort of funny monuments. Finally my feet wore out, and I decided to head back. I had 30 minutes to reach the train station. My pass was a 9-hour pass, so I had to get aboard a home-bound train in 9 hours or less from when I started.
I knew that I had gone uphill all the way to Lausanne from the station at Ouchy, so it was just a question of going downhill until I came to the station. Of course, I could be on the wrong street. I stopped and asked a friendly-looking woman "Ou est le Gare?" After a second, she got what I wanted and gave me long directions in French from which I understood only "go straight" (mainly from gestures) and "Metro" which is the light rail that takes you to the station. So I went straight, found the Metro and took it one stop to the station. Made my train with 15 minutes to spare!
It was a big adventure for me, and just the perfect farewell gift for someone leaving Switzerland behind. Thank you, WBS St. Alban!
Remember the boys from 1K? Once wild animals they are now semi-tamed gentlemen (most of the time). I decided it was a good time to have a big finish to their home ec class. The girls were scheduled to cook one last time. How would it be if they cooked for the boys? The whole class could share the meal, and the boys could clean up. One last class in cleaning wouldn't hurt.
Their teacher thought it was a great idea. I had brought a whiffle ball and bat with me, naively thinking the students would take an interest in baseball, and I could add game terms to their English instruction. They hated the idea. The only spectator sport worth looking at was soccer--anyone with half a brain knew that. The ball and bat languished at the bottom of the closet. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for.
Baseball instruction was horrific. The boys were excited, so they asked a million questions while I was in the middle of explaining. I screamed like a banshee. I don't even know myself when it gets like that in class. But I digress. The girls were bored. Another stupid American game. Sigh. I tried to take them out for batting practice, but we got yelled at for playing ball on the school yard. Oops.
Yesterday I went to the store twice. I put about 20 lbs. of food in the refrigerator and then took another 20 lbs. home to bring back this morning. I gave four English tests and cut up chicken. That sounds so funny--but such is the job. The girls arrived on time. So did the boys. I had my hands full giving girls directions and throwing boys out of the room. Finally they were whisked away for a whiffle ball game with their teacher. Andonis made a grand slam!
No matter what the plan is, someone wants to argue. Maybe another way would be better! This is the culture. How I miss voting and then following the majority--so simple. Still, with a lot of pressure from me and some expert help from the class leaders, we pulled it off. Sylvia even stood over the barbecue grill in the rain and did the hotdogs. I loved her for that! Lunch was on the table right on time. The french fries disappeared instantly, and the girls forgot they had been complaining about how long it took to cook them--why hadn't I bought more potatoes? Miriam brought a delightful strawberry cake from home, and one of the other girls (Feyza, or Nesrin maybe) brought chocolate cake. We had chocolate cupcakes, too, so dessert was plentiful.
After lunch (and many compliments for my girls!) the boys cleaned up. What a mess! Lunch for 26 people leaves a lot of havoc behind. They pitched in gamely and, for once, they didn't complain about the jobs I gave them. I could have kissed Lucas, who had some really hot, soapy water going. He did more than half the greasy pans, and he didn't complain. In really no time, they had the kitchen gleaming. It was truly amazing.
The teacher wanted me to gather them once again in the classroom afterwards. I was hard pressed to keep the boys in line. I locked them out of the classroom to keep it clean, and they caroused in the hall. Finally the teacher came. There was a present. I promised not to cry, but I regretted my promise. They gave me a beautiful card and a Swiss t-shirt signed by all of them. It was so touching. This wild class with whom I had struggled all year. They recognized, I think, that I have been trying to help them, and that I have helped them. They have certainly helped me. They are really still little kids in grown-up bodies. They still need all kinds of praise and incentives, and they make a thousand mistakes a minute, but they are loveable. I will not miss the constant struggle of trying to get attention, but I will miss the looks of triumph they have when I praise them and when they know the praise is justified. For some, I am sure, praise is sparse at home. There was a moment today when I praised Denis for his efforts. He is usually the biggest clown and one of the hardest to manage. He grinned at me. "I can do it when I want to," he said. Indeed. So can they all. The trick is making them want to. Many of them don't really understand what school is all about or what educated people have that uneducated people don't. They vaguely think that success has something to do with filling in test answers, and that after one finishes with school none of the stuff they learned will have any importance. In their limited experience, how can they think otherwise?
Tuesday and Wednesday I will show them a film, probably Freedom Writers about students much like themselves who finally "get it" and achieve success in the world beyond their immediate neighborhood. For most the film will be a diversion, not a lesson. Yet, there may be one who "gets it." The great thing about 1K, though, is that this year in this class most of them "got it" one way or another. We were all changed a bit in the process. What a blessing!
It's June. For many people June means weddings, and where there was once a wedding there is now an anniversary. In my family, three wedding anniversaries fall within a single week, and two are on the same day. My parents are celebrating 66 years together. Dad is now caring for Mom pretty much full time. He learned to cook at the age of 88. That's the kind of thing you do for love. My brother and his wife are celebrating 40 years this year while my daughter and her husband celebrate one year on the same day.
Our anniversary was yesterday. We celebrated "together" on the phone. This is not the first time we were apart on our anniversary, and, inevitably, it won't be the last. Ordinarily I wouldn't clutter my blog with a personal matter like this, but it's so interesting what happens when people hear the numbers. I say, "Tuesday is our anniversary." Then they say, "How many years?" What follows the number is always surprise. One woman said, "to the same man?" At 43 and still single (or was it single again?) she just couldn't believe it.
When I was young, everyone who was adult had been married for a long time. I was born in the 50s when divorce was an ugly word. People who were divorced sometimes lied about it. I was told the neighbor across the street was a widow, and she lived there five years before I learned she was actually divorced. It was a stigma. Nowadays people are surprised if you are over 50 and were never divorced.
We have, I admit, been unbelievably lucky. We have good jobs, great kids, a nice house. It's easy to get along when there is enough of the necessities. We also married, respectively, our best friends. We talk to each other even when we don't have to, like at parties. We are still interesting to each other. My anniversary wish for you, my dear readers, is that you will find this kind of relationship. You may already be in it. Treat your partner exactly as you treat your best friend, and soon your partner will be your best friend. If you are married, tell your spouse today that you are glad you are. If you are not, know that you are a special person for someone. Meanwhile, be your own best friend. People who are comfortable in their own skin are extremely attractive and fun to be with. I should know--I married one!
Happy anniversary again, honey!
I was in Hamburg over the weekend. Many of you already know that I have family in Germany. When my ancestors left the Old World in the late 1800s, they kept in contact with the folks back home, and that remains true today. I have visited my German family many times. In May my "cousin" Isolde passed away at the age of 88. It was a blessing for me that I am on the correct side of the Atlantic to allow participation in the funeral. Isolde has helped me so many times over the years by sending clippings and sharing her personal history to the benefit of my students as well as my family. The funeral was in every way fitting to her stature in the family and the affection we all had for her. She will be missed.
Hamburg is the "London of Germany" in that it lies on the sea and the weather is cool and moist. It was in the 40s all weekend and rainy. Still, it was good to be "home" and among loved ones. Apart from the funeral there was time for heaps of coffee and "Kuchen" (cake). I believe a large part of Germany runs on cake. It's amazing how many pieces one can consume in an afternoon. We had cake after the funeral, cake for breakfast (left from the funeral), cake in the afternoon and cake at the German Shepherd association meeting where my cousin is an active member. I also took a couple of pieces along on the train for the trip back to Basel. May my hips forgive me!
Although I flew to Hamburg (Easy Jet offers cheap flights), I took the train back. There was a special price, and I was able to go first class. Let me tell you, that is a great way to travel. Passengers were pampered all the way, and we flew along at just over 100 miles/hour the whole length of Germany. Although I arrived close to 11 p.m., I really didn't feel tired. A trip that long in a car would just wipe me out. As it was, I knitted, read and had a relaxing dinner (the food is just a small cut above airline food, sadly) in the restaurant car. While it's not gourmet dining, the tables are decked with linen cloths and you eat from real china in a civilized fashion. Meanwhile the scenery flies by as you rack up the miles. If I could change anything about America, it would be to replace half of our interstate highways with high speed rail systems.
Sunday morning before I left my cousins and I attended a German Shepherd conformation competition. It was a cold, rainy event, but the dogs didn't seem to mind. They were hugely excited to be among others of their species. The trainers raced around the ring with them while the owners jogged outside it, squeaking toys and calling their dogs like mad. I guess this is to get the animal to keep its head up and ears pricked forward, but it sounds absolutely goofy. I can't think that a dog would really act any different had the owner kept quiet, but what do I know? Anyway, I got to pet a lot of dogs!
Now it's back to work as we head into the last weeks of school. I'll leave you with a puppy. If you want to buy him, check out the website: www.reeshoop.de. The breeder has four little girls looking for a home.
It was a holiday here today. The holiday is called Pfingsten and commemorates the arrival of the Holy Spirit as described in the Book of Acts in the Bible. Not many people here can probably tell you the story, but there's a Monday off just the same.
Because it was a holiday weekend, the stores were closed both Sunday and Monday. I did what everyone else does; I jumped on a train and went on an excursion--two actually. Sunday I went to Sissach. I had been meaning to go to Sissach, not that it's really a tourist destination. I've passed through it on the train, and it looked quaint and picturesque. My pastor suggested a trip there when I mentioned after church that I might go exploring. She mentioned a local tourist destination, but I forgot the name of it almost as it came out of her mouth. I don't think I saw it. Nevertheless, I saw something.
Getting off the train I wandered around until I found a yellow diamond on a post. These are all over Switzerland. They mark hiking paths which are maintained by the state. When they cross a farm, you are entitled to walk through, although you must stick to the path. There's one by me right up through the strawberry fields. I hiked the path until I came to a sign post, and then I had to pick a destination. There were destinations anywhere from 15 minutes to 3-1/2 hours away. I was pretty sure a 7-hour round trip would kill me. Besides, it was already 3:30 p.m. So I settled on a 1 hour trip to the "ruins." The sign didn't say what kind of ruins, but it pointed up the hill. The path wound away at a 30 degree slope. What fun. I hoped the one hour estimate was made by a middle-aged or older person who was not too fit, and I set off.
The first part of the journey was warm but not uncomfortable. The road went uphill, but there was a road. After a bit, though, the path turned off through the woods. It was very rocky. I thought of Eze where I didn't quite make it all the way down the rocky path to the beach. Why did ancient peoples always build way up on top of a mountain? Didn't that make it hard to get groceries up there? These are the kinds of things you think about as you sweat your way up a hill. After a long time I came to a sign that said 25 minutes to go. Did I really want to see the ruins that bad? I thought of my failure at Eze again and decided, yes, I would see the ruins, but they had better be pretty good ruins.
I got there. Just at the top I ran into a large family and a man on a bicycle. You wouldn't have known anyone was around, but you are never far from civilization in this little country. The castle (it was a 14th century castle) was pretty small for its age, but it was interesting enough. There were two wells, so at least folks didn't have to carry water up. Someone had to dig those wells, though, through rock. Poor souls.
You can judge for yourself: photos are at Walgreens.com login:diane.shuey52 password:abc12345
Today's trip was to Rheinfall and Schaffhausen. Rheinfall is billed as the largest waterfall in Europe. I guess it's got the most water; it's not the highest. The falls were pretty, but the castle above them was closed for renovation. I was very glad I chose to check out the castle first. I would have been pretty mad had I descended from the train to the falls and then walked up about 500 steps to find the castle closed.
Down at river's edge you can eat at one of two restaurants or take a boat to the rocks right in the falls. Tons of people were climbing up the rocks, but I couldn't see the point. You fight your way up through the crowd and down through the crowd and get wet from the spray. Maybe I'm getting a bit jaded about tourist destinations. Anyway, I saw a bus headed for Schaffhausen, which is the nearest large town. This would save my legs from the dreaded stairs. I boarded the bus.
I hadn't been on board long when I heard American accents toward the back of the bus. They sounded fun and friendly, so I went back to introduce myself. I met Ellen and Tom and their friend (Sandy? Jackie?) from Nebraska. Sadly, they are in Switzerland because Tom is sick and is getting a treatment he can't get in the States. Guess what, the treatment is in Basel! I gave them my phone numbers. We need to pray for Tom; I think he's pretty sick. They were really nice to talk to, although they were from western Nebraska. We won't hold that against them; they are still Cornhusker fans like my husband's family.
Tom and Ellen got off the bus at the train station. They wanted to get back to Basel. I rode into town and took the map the driver gave me. It's a nice little town. The local castle is pretty cool--much bigger than Bischofstein (yesterday's castle). The buildings were sufficiently quaint, and there was a garden. I had lunch at a restaurant that boasts a webcam. The address is brasserie-schaffhausen.ch and click on Falkencam.
I'll upload these photos, too. My feet are pretty tired, but it was a good weekend. My time grows short here; I'm beginning to say goodbye and make the most of each day that I'm here. Come to that, we need to make the most of each day wherever we are. Make it a good one, okay?
Yesterday was one of those crystalline spring days that poets write about. The air was soft and sweet with the smell of flowers. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the view from Margarethen was unobscured by haze. Every mountain stood out; France and Germany were clearly outlined against the sky.
I set off up the hill to visit the farm. It's strawberry season. Far up the street I could see my little neighbor, the five-year-old daughter of the couple across the street. She was watching me walk up the hill. I waved. She waved. I was pretty sure we were on the same errand. She waited for me.
I inspected the new handbag, a pink dream with a picture of a unicorn on the outside and my little friend's name embroidered on the inside. Very nice. She had a twenty frank bill in it, and she was on a mission to purchase strawberries for her family. We walked to the farm together. I stood back in admiration as she discussed her purchase with the saleslady. She wanted a basket of strawberries, please. No, no asparagus today, just the strawberries. She paid and waited for her change and was rewarded with a big extra berry for her personal enjoyment. How wonderful that she could do this at such a young age. I don't think any parent in my neighborhood back home would allow a five-year-old to go alone even this far (two blocks), and anyway, there are no stores in our neighborhood.
All the way back we chatted--I learned she and her family were going to visit a great grandmother in the afternoon. The lady is "ancient" and doesn't walk or see very well. It was a steady stream of news and impressions. My little friend is very comfortable with me even though I talk funny and she doesn't always understand my German. We're even on that score--I don't always understand hers. Still, she's a very important part of my circle of friends here. We parted in front of the house, and her dad was waiting and watching on the terrace. She wasn't long out of his sight--don't worry about her safety. Everyone in the neighborhood looks out for the children here.
I bought two baskets of strawberries myself. One is for me. They are sweet, field grown and freshly picked. They taste like summer itself. The other is for my little old lady. My church is helping her, and I am this month's designated helper. She lives in the elder care house sponsored by our church (our world-wide church which includes mine back home). There is a nursing home side and an apartment side. She lives in the apartment side, but possibly will have to move. She has major problems with her legs which are quite painful and keep her either in bed or in a chair most of the time. Yesterday she was in particularly bad shape. Someone was there to help with other chores and with her legs, and she was in bed. She was absolutely delighted with the strawberries.
I picked up her three-item shopping list and some money and went to the store for her. When I got back, I cleaned some berries and put them in a bowl. It was a joy to watch her eat them. We talked about her childhood and the garden her parents had. They had one by the house and also rented one, a very common thing even today. There's a huge rental garden area just up the hill from my house. She said the strawberries were "a really good idea." It was a small thing for me to do and a very big thing for her.
Older people in western society often become very isolated by their inability to get around. Your homework for today is to call or visit someone who can't get out too much. Take them a small surprise. You will get more pleasure out of it than they do, I promise. A little bowl of strawberries cannot, unfortunately, take away the pain of old age, but it can certainly help a person deal with that pain a little longer. What a lot of happiness is wrapped up in those little red packages of summer sun!
