The soul resounds in sight and sound.

Sunday March 27, 2011

On my final day in Geneva, as unlike the previous days, I did have a loosely based agenda, including three different activities I hoped to complete. In actuality I was able to do 2 of the 3, leaving out a cruise along the lake in the hopes of adding it to a future trip along with a tour of the United Nations.

Unlike the spring forward change in Canada, the day to move our clocks ahead one hour was on Sunday, however, I did not remember until a few hours after waking up, and so I was off my previously planned schedule of when I wanted to start my day. But alas, another reminder that these plans often have a way of re-planning themselves despite your best efforts to stay on schedule. Deterred I was not, and instead I went for a walk and bought a thank you plant and purchased a day pass for the bus. I was then off to explore the Salève mountains. I boarded the bus, which was conveniently located one block away from the apartment; to an area outside of urban Geneva and took the téléphérique (cable car) to the top of the Salèves.

Words and pictures cannot describe the magnificence and serenity of the mountain, nor the view, but definitely an experience worth repeating. Up on the mountain top, I took a leisurely stroll downhill and an even more leisurely climb back up, while taking in the fresh air, revelling in its natural stillness, and admiring the old cottage and farm style homes, while imagining a life lived atop a mountain.

After descending down the Salève mountain range, I journeyed back into the city of Geneva, where for the first time in over 5 months enjoyed a latte and bagel with fromage frais (the French version of cream cheese), from Starbucks. How much more anti-European can I get…. a coffee considerably larger than the average shot glass sized café and with milk to boot!

I then proceeded to enjoy my Starbucks treat while sitting outside of Cathédrale St. Pierre, while waiting to hear the King’s Choir of Cambridge perform in the Cathedral. My eyes had just marvelled the beauty of the mountains, and now my ears were hearing the angelic voices of a choir perfectly tuned in cadence and resonance, rendering the crowded Cathedral silent in awe and admiration.

And so this was the final day in Geneva… a day of wondrous sights and sounds, inspired imagination and soulful gratitude. My first ever solo journey was ending, but with all endings come new beginnings, and here’s to the hopes that this experience fosters greater confidence, independence and appreciation of a life worth living, and simple moments treasured.

St. Pierre Cathedral

King's Choir

Outside of St. Pierre Cathedral

Saleve Mts

Saleve Mts

Saleve Mts

A unified experience of diversity.

Saturday March 26, 2011

Armed with a list of possible options of tours and adventures, I inquired at the tourist office about what was available, and was told that a walking tour was about to start in 10 minutes. Perfectly timed and reasonably priced, I booked a spot to explore the rich history of Geneva. As the tour was about to start I was amongst three other tourists, all of which were back pack wearing early retirees. Woo hoo, the single girl in her early thirties knows how to travel!! But wait… lucky me, within minutes of the tour a single woman from Peru and another from Poland living in London joined the group. Heh, the numbers just evened out!

During the two hour walking tour of historic Geneva we learned of its construction and significance to the rest of Europe, as it was considered the ideal ancient city that was coveted due to its large Lake and the Rhone river (longest river in Europe) that flows directly into Lake Geneva. We walked along the winding streets, uphill to the old town, and discussed famous Genevans, including Rousseau, Calvin and Dunant, who created the International Committee of the Red Cross, (hence the Swiss flag).

Following the tour, I decided to pick up some bread, Italian deli meat, cheese and spicy olives for lunch. Yum!! If there is another thing I have learned from living in Europe, and France specifically, food is savoured and lunch is the most important meal, so any chance to indulge in a wide variety of food, at just about any time of the day, I am in!! Plus, I originally had my heart set on sushi, but Geneva is an expensive city and I did not feel like shelling out over 15 CHF for a roll or two of pre-made and pre-packaged sushi. So a homemade sandwich, finished off with hazelnut yogurt (I guess I did eat something Swiss), was the perfect afternoon interlude.

After lunch, I walked to the international organizations section of the city to the United Nations building… Calling it a building is a vast understatement, as the property is enormous with a large park and many buildings contained within its fortress. Unfortunately, because of the time of year, I was not able to go beyond the outer gates, and was only able to see a small portion of the estate. Apparently tours are arranged during week days during very specific hours until the end of March, with weekend tours beginning in April. Who knows, maybe perhaps I may find myself in Geneva another day… with a roundtrip train ticket at around €55, a day trip is not unreasonable!

I then walked toward the Lake and took a short stroll through the Botanical Gardens, through to the lakefront and then onto Bains des Paquis, a popular pier off of the Lake. On this particular weekend a small festival, Fête de l’eau, was underway, with puzzles and games for kids, a jazzy sounding band complete with a didgeridoo, and snack shack. Les Bains des Paquis was one of the places strongly recommended to see and it is like a mini beach where you can swim, dive from platforms of various heights, relax on the rocks, enjoy a sauna or a massage, or just hang out. Not to mention, the view of the Lake and the Jet d’eau (famous water fountain) is magnificent.

Although the night was still young, my tired feet needed a rest and I returned for a relaxing and restful night; plus a solo trip is one thing, clubbing or the bar scene sans un(e) ami(e) is another and not one I am particularly interested in. So a rejuvenating end of day in preparation of my final day in Geneva it was.

Bains des Paquis

Bains des Paquis

Walking toward the UN building

UN

UN

I knew of the things I could do, but not that I would do….

Friday March 25, 2011



Before arriving in Geneva, I had poked around on the internet for information on things to do and places to see. I looked at various options on the tourist website and considered others that were recommended; however, once on Swiss soil, I was without a plan and left to cherish the moment and its possibilities.

After finally getting into my cousin’s apartment; which I now know a future career choice should not include a run as a successful burglar, B&E technician, nor locksmith; I briefly settled in and then set out to explore the city. Within the first half hour, I met a pleasant older Portuguese man by the name of Tony. Not having the opportunity to have many successful conversations in French I agreed to have coffee with my new acquaintance along the banks of Lac Léman (Lake Geneva). In the spirit of the winds and the present moment, I then accepted an invitation to tour Geneva and part of France, as France surrounds Geneva by 90%! So I set off for a leisure drive through Switzerland into France to the medieval town of Yvoire.  Following the unsuspected yet appreciated tour complete with facts and history, I bid my tour guide adieu and set out for an incredibly late lunch or early dinner, as I was in search of some yummy Swiss food prior to the tour.

A short while later I settled into a quaint Indian restaurant with plush red velvet cushioned regal style chairs, and repeated twice that I was dining pour un. Sitting so I could watch the tourists and Genevans walking along the street, while also catching the reflection of Bollywood themed music videos from the TV behind me; I enjoyed a glass of wine with the vegetarian menu complete with halwa for dessert. So much for traditional Swiss food, which unfortunately I did not end up trying, but it had been nearly a half a year since I indulged in Indian food and all its fragrance and spice!

A nice conclusion to my first day in Geneva, complete with a tour of not only the city but a small French town, a full belly and a renewed sense of physical direction!

Yvoire, France

Yvoire, France

View from Yvoire

Genève en photos



Flower Clock (English Garden)

Bains des Paquis (Pier off of Lake Geneva)

Lake Geneva & Jet d'eau

Geneva centre

Flowers in Old Geneva

Old Geneva

Saleve Mountains



Atop the Saleve Mts



Atop the Saleve Mts

“…weep for the lives your wishes never led…”

I just returned from a weekend away in Geneva (Genève), where I experienced my first official voyage tout seul! While I have travelled solo by plane, train and automobile many times in the past; there was always someone familiar waiting with open arms on the other side. But this time, I did it all alone… I’m a big girl now!!! I should mention a huge thank-you however, to my cousin Cédric, for allowing me to stay chez-lui while he was also away on vacation.

I was initially hesitant and nervous to commit to this trip as I did not know how motivated I would be to venture out and explore the city on my own, and also because I am hopelessly and tragically directionally challenged. But hey, who would have known that my incoherent navigation skills are slowly evolving and forming automatic associations dans ma tête. Geneva is a very small city in size, so I am sure that it helped in orienting myself, but I have to say that I am not only proud, but also amazed at how well I could get around after only having examined the city map for a short time!!

I should also interject though, because there were a couple of gaffes as well, which I really should not admit to, but hey, I am always up for a good self laugh!

Gaffe numéro un: In perfect SNCF fashion (French rail system), the train was a half hour late to leave, and upon boarding the sign listed several cities including, Genève, with the caption a tête; and a list of other cities with the caption l’arrière. Looking at the sign, I knew that the entire train was travelling to Geneva and that there were no assigned seats, so I thought by the words that I should pick one of the cars near the front of the train?, but based on the mass confusion of other travellers around me, including many native French speakers about the meaning of the sign, I picked a car near the middle. It seems silly as all of the train doors open with the push of a sensor button and in actuality it really does not matter what car or seat you are in, but alas the SNCF is a source of irritation to many a French national, or so I have been told, and as such it is not surprising that it would also serve as a confusing system as well. After not so comfortably settling into a stewardess style flip down seat, as most of the regular seats were occupied (VIA rivals in comparison to comfort), an English gentleman asked me in English if the train was going to Geneva, which I replied, ”I think so, and if not we are both in the same boat”. One thing is for sure, if I have learned anything from France it is that you will never get a consistent answer to any question (or give one), and most things really are not worth worrying about. So what if I don’t actually make it to Geneva, I can just board another train, and in the off chance they ask to see my ticket, act really confused and pretend I don’t know any French. But alas I did make it to Geneva without any hitches, and surprisingly on the original arrival time despite the 30 min delay.

Gaffe numéro deux: Since my cousin’s apartment was only a short walk from the train station I opted to walk instead of taking the tram. As I was heading away from the station, I decided to ask for directions to make sure I was in fact heading in the right direction, which startlingly I was! Once there, I entered the building using the correct door code, and proceeded to try to open the apartment door, with considerable difficulty, because you know it is not a simple as inserting a key and turning… or is it? After using up all of my phone credit talking to my cousin on the phone (while he was at work) and still unsuccessfully unlocking the door, through the help of his nice and accommodating neighbour I was given a crash course in using a key, which was as simple as turning it. And you would never guess that I once owned my own home!

Before I continue, I feel I should explain the title of this post, as it serves as the perfect reminder of my solo voyage to Geneva, as well as a motto in this journey called life. One of my final experiences in Geneva was watching the King’s Choir of Cambridge perform at Cathédrale St. Pierre. During the ‘Hymn to St. Cecilia’, was the lyric, “weep for the lives your wishes never led”.  How profound…. I have always attempted to live without regret, but oftentimes this also meant inaction caused by fear. Well this trip, although small, is a step toward living out wishes, and serves as a springboard for other developing dreams and unrealized ambitions!

Alors,

...weep for the lives your wishes never led...

(Wystan Hugh Auden)

Pérouges

Pérouges is a small medieval town outside of Lyon that is situated upon a hill, enclosed by a stone wall and winding cobblestone streets. Within its walls time is suspended and you are transported to an era of simplicity, where heels are not required or recommended, dogs frolic off leashes, cats lurk and roam the alleys, and an air of tranquil reverence permeates.

Quaint shops and restaurants line the streets, with original furniture and furnishings. Staff greet and are transformed to a period of heavy flowing fabrics with appearances by a court jester and elaborate masks and costumes. A labyrinth style maze is hidden within its walls, as is a small majestic stone chapel, and the village remains inhabited by a small population of townsfolk, that I can only imagine are as intriguing and as peaceful as Pérouges itself.

Pictures would be wondrous, although perhaps I will one day return to enjoy another famous Galette Pérougienne, with camera in hand to capture its timeless essence. 

Une Carte Vitale s'il vous plaît!

Ah the world renowned French healthcare system, known to be one of the best in the world! So why am I having such a hard time participating in this universal system???

Since arriving in France I have opened a bank account with ease, registered with Pôle Emploi (employment services) with some difficulty, and filled out employment documents without a defined social security number, however, access to universal healthcare has been a rollercoaster of red tape, changing qualifying conditions and varying opinions.

Initially I was led to believe that by the mere fact that I am a French citizen with a residential address (and mail to prove it from Pôle Emploi), that I would only need to fill in basic paperwork and I would qualify for healthcare. Unfortunately not so L

After speaking with an employee at the Sécurité Sociale (which is in charge of both social security and health care), I filled out the pre-requisite forms and returned to find out that because I was not working and did not have previous employment in France, in order to receive the Carte Vitale (health card), I would need to declare my worldly income for the last 2 years and pay a percentage of the difference over €9000 ($12500) from the previous year!! This was after being told that it did not matter that I was newly living in France and not working, but that my citizenship was entitlement enough. I should also mention that in France, citizens carry one card called the Carte Vitale that encompasses both social security and health care details, and the numbers are one and the same for coverage. So a bit different from the Canadian SIN and provincial OHIP that I am so accustomed to. Oh, and strangely, I was able to start working without a defined social security number?! Instead it is the responsibility of your employer to take care of all documentation upon hire. Bonus, right!! Except that on my first pay check my social security number had the routine first half of the required numbers based on gender, birthday, place of birth (as specific numbers are assigned to each of these), but the remaining numbers are a series of 000000, and as such I am required to go through the routine application process for my Carte Vitale…

After numerous appointments and documents and opinions of various workers at the Sécurité Sociale, alas I have a job and can now apply directly for the card without declaring other income or untangling myself from the red tape! But wait!!! Lo and behold I have to actually go and get sick before any of this can be done….and now I am faced with, I hope, a completed application for health care coverage, and a folder full of medical receipts. It all started around the time I was hired with a lingering ear infection that was not going away despite antibiotics, ear drops and pain killers. After several weeks, and a few weeks into the new job, I ended up meeting with a specialist at the hospital and had my ear aspirated (aka vacuumed), in a procedure that took nearly an hour and caused tears of pain near the end L While I have had this procedure done many times in the past, it had never taken this long or caused as much pain and discomfort. So began another round of even stronger antibiotics and ear drops and a follow up appointment to the specialist to have my ear vacuumed out again; but thankfully a much shorter procedure of around 10 minutes with minimal pain. And while the saga of ear infections, new jobs, and lingering health cards wanes on;  I sit and I wait for a time of answers and reimbursements.....

Médicine du travail

Gotta love the French employment system… most jobs require that you meet with a médicine du travail, or work Doctor before starting new employment. I was a bit surprised that this was a requirement as I was hired to work in a kitchen for personnel and not patients, but a hospital it is and as such the rendezvous with the médicin was not only extensive but invasive! I should mention that my dad, who also started new employment around the same time as a guardian of an apartment complex, also had to undergo an appointment guaranteeing he was fit to work by a médicine du travail as well.

At my appointment I was coolly greeted by the médicine du travail, who did not speak a word of English, or if she did she was neither obliging nor courteous. So, I proceeded to answer a variety of work related and personal questions in my best French as she glanced down at me in annoyance over the rim of her glasses. Feeling very frustrated by the process, but also grateful as many of the medical terms used were very close to their English counterparts, I think I was able to accurately answer most, err… okay maybe a handful of questions, the rest I responded with oui ou non, hoping I was giving the right answer… yikes that can’t be good right?

Well, I am sure I did fine, until I was asked one personal (not work related) question, where I answered non, and she stopped, smirked and responded ‘non’. To which I became even more confused than my constant state of confusion, and repeated back what I understood the question to be, only to realize that I had reversed the context of the question and as such incorrectly answered it. So after changing my answer (which was the actual correct answer), the Doctor was a bit happier and a tad more pleasant and proceeded to continue asking about allergies, medications, family history, why I moved to France, what I went to school for…. and other relevant and non relevant interrogative style questions.

I should mention that to start off this whole process I was asked for my carnet de vaccination (vaccination card), which naturally I do not travel with (I don’t even know where it is). Well this was a bad way to start off the appointment and when I responded that I did not have one and that all of my vaccines were received in Canada, the médicine du travail, appeared offended and irritated that at the age of 33 I would travel without it. Now I don’t think it takes a Doctor to figure out that like France, Canada is also a 1^st world country, and as per WHO guidelines certain vaccinations are required for all citizens. So I was now faced with getting re-vaccinated or producing proof of vaccinations at my second appointment…. Yes that’s right, in order to work in a kitchen I had to undergo, not one, not two, but three medical appointments….

Following the barrage of questions, I was weighed, poked and prodded and made to touch my toes all while stripped down to my bra and underwear… really is this job even worth it? Then…  I gave a blood and urine sample, took a TB skin test and had my vision tested. Then I was sent across campus for a pulmonary x-ray, and finally I was sent home with a small plastic jar for another bodily sample to be returned my first day of work… really, I ask again; is this job even worth it?

So after tracking down my vaccination card… thanks Mom, and bringing it to my second appointment, (hee hee it’s all in English, which the witch, oops work doctor was annoyed with); I ended up having to get most of my previous vaccinations all over again. So what were initially two appointments now turned into three, with the third scheduled the following month for my second set of vaccinations.

All of this for a one month contract!! Good thing it was extended for an additional month until the end of March for a total of two months. And thankfully, it has been extended once more until the end of April. I can now say, that the experience with the médicine du travail, while somewhat excessive, was worth it, and I hope I never have to do it again!

Le Boulot

So I am officially French-fried and in addition to my French citizenship, bank account, address and pending health card, I am now employed!! Let me start by saying a grand merci to mes cousins Nathalie & Dominique! It initially began with a one month contract covering a vacation leave and has since been extended for an additional month… So what is this new job……?

At the end of January as I was awaiting news of whether I would be accepted into a free, intensive, full time, 3 month long French language course; I was offered a short contract at a psychiatric hospital working in the staff kitchen, by my cousin Dominique who is the chef there.  Not knowing if I would be accepted into the French program as it required very specific reference requirements, I opted to take on this new opportunity and experience. In hindsight this was a good choice, as a few weeks after the course start date (and 2 weeks into the new job) I finally received notice that I was not accepted into the program. I would say c’est dommage to this, however, the work medical required for employment was an experience in itself and not about to be put to waste… (but more on that event in another blog).

Aside from the French program and the work medical, this new job finally meant that I could get my Carte Vitale and enjoy the world renowned benefits of the French health care system; without having to declare my global income from the last 2 years, while paying a percentage of the difference on any earnings over €9000.

So… the job… or boulot (as referred to in French slang or argot)….

Well as humbling as it is, as mentioned, I am working in the staff kitchen at Vinatier, a psychiatric hospital. I hesitate to call it a hospital as it does not compare to a standard Canadian hospital. Rather it is a very large and intricate campus divided into 5 zones, with 2 small zoos with goats and sheep, a cathedral, onsite laundry, uniforming, ambulance service, and a locked facility for psychiatric offenders to name a few of the services. Vinatier employs over 2000 people and as such there is a definite need for a staff kitchen, aka SELF, as it is organized in a self serve fashion offering well made meals and an abundance of choices. In many ways it reminds me of Maryvale (one of my former jobs), as it is multi-disciplinary and community focused. Each day as I look out the cottage style windows toward one of the many entrances it is as if I am looking at the College St. entrance of Maryvale, and as I watch the various delivery and maintenance vehicles come and go, for a split second the surrounding landscape is transformed into the quaint parking lot off College St., with McIsaac and the shop, and it is as if I am enjoying my daily lunch staring out the windows of the Convent.

While I am not working in same capacity as I was at Maryvale and I do not interact with or assist the clients and patients, this new experience is rewarding in a new and distinctive way… I have joked to a few close friends and family that it is humbling as I wear a hairnet, but the truth is that it is an experience I would not otherwise encounter; a job I would likely not seek nor accept, and not because of its nature but by experience, however, my actual employable skills do not exist to the same degree here, and as such I must make concessions and compromises and broaden my horizons so to speak.

And so, this new job, where I prep, clean, sort and shelve, has provided the perfect backdrop of realization and appreciation of the countless sacrifices, compromises and concessions made by my grandparents and many others who in seeking a ‘better life’ (or in my case a ‘richer experience’), accepted and endured opportunities of humble gratitude.

Le temps

While this current post has been pending for a few weeks due to intentions of adding new thoughts and memories, I have decided to post it as is, in hopes of renewed motivation to expand and reflect on this very real concept and experience of time... So here is the previous blog which should have been posted several weeks ago...

Time, weather, moments, phases... can all use the french term temps; which is of course dependent upon the context, content and speaker. While it has only been two weeks since my last post, it feels like months, and the concept of time is surprisingly and continually illuding. On the surface it feels as if time is passing in perfect rhythm and cadence with... time; but upon further contemplation I often find myself taken aback by the how much time has yet to pass.... I often find myself reflecting on accomplishments and unrealized ambition and I am always reminded of the reality of how little time has actually gone by. Perhaps it is because experience and opportunity should not be measured by time, or because time is merely a mental and social construct designed to measure success, but I am happy that for a change I am actually surprised at the infinite amount of time that is available.


So, on a lighter note these next few posts will be a summary of my last two weeks, including a new job, work medical, the french health care system, Perouges...

And here's to the intention that the next few posts will be a summary of the past month and that I will be motivated and inspired to continue to blog and share and explore the journey!