lost in translation

I finally got a chance today to really use my language skills! Granted, these were my Spanish skills and not my (not-so-impressive) French skills, but it's the thought that counts, right?

After I got back from school, my mom and I headed down to the boulangerie (bakery) in little downtown (if you can even call it a downtown) Coppet, to pick out a dessert for my birthday tomorrow (!). Of course, upon arriving and asking, "Parle vous anglais?" the answer was promptly, "No." (Obviously the woman spoke at least one word... she distinctly said "no," not "non.") After sighing dejectedly, and condeming ourselves to another communication struggle, the woman mentioned she did speak Spanish.
OK, I thought, maybe I could speak to her in Spanish.
Let me just make this clear: you are looking at a girl who has three years of high school Spanish behind her, but really has no idea what she's talking about. I've never actually had to use my Spanish anywhere other than the classroom. So this was pretty crazy drastic for me (not quite as drastic as moving across the world, but you know what I mean).
So, we started up a rather broken Spanish conversation. The baker was actually really good, and I was a little embarrassed by my poor conjugations (and forgetting how to say "cake." Um, duh? Pastel? Good going, Claire), and whatnot, but I managed to actually communicate with her, understand what she was saying, and place an order for a pear and almond tart for four, to be picked up between one and two the next day. It's quite an accomplishment, if you ask me.

Now, I just need to learn French.


**Shout-out to my favorite Summitteers!! Hope you guys are all enjoying the camping trip. Someone in Switzerland misses y'all! :]

playing tourist for the weekend

Seeing as we've only just moved, I still feel like a tourist in this country--I don't know the language or customs, and I'm forever asking for directions. However, this does give me the distinct advantage of having the excuse to spend my free time doing fun, tourist-y things.
Take this weekend, for example. I spent Saturday in Geneva, wandering all around the city with a girl from school. I got to see the ridiculously famous and amazing Jet d'Eau (for all of you who don't speak French, that means--rather logically--Jet of Water):(I would also like to assert that this is MY photo, not one I stole from the web... I'm mildly proud, if you couldn't tell.)

We spent quite a while exploring the shopping district. My conclusion: amazing clothes...amazingly high prices. Obviously, when I go back to the States for Christmas, I will get on the plane with an empty suitcase, and return with a full one; I can't expect to buy many clothes here!
Later, we ate at a cute little pizzeria, in a plaza that glowed! (No, seriously... evidence is below) Overall, I was very satisfied with the day.

And then, today, Sunday, my parents and I took advantage of a bargain price ticket to drive around the lake and check out some castles, Chillon and Aigle. Let me tell you, these things are cool. I preferred Chillon, mostly because it was larger and more of it was in it's original condition. Also, this is the famous castle from the famous Prisoner of Chillon, by Lord Byron. Moreover, while touring the famous dungeon of this famous castle, we came across the famous cell of the famous prisoner--and the famous graffiti of the famous poet! Pretty legit, if you ask me. Honestly, while visiting the castle that he wrote about, Byron decided to carve his name into a pillar, and it's still there today.
The weather was gorgeous today, and especially clear. While driving home, we got an especially clear view of Mount Blanc. I'll post pictures as soon as my dad gets around to uploading them off his camera. Overall, a very good weekend.
Dancin' around Chillon Castle...
A view of Aigle Castle.

many things that boggle me about Switzerland

1. Peanut butter is advertised as "American food," and the only kind that they sell is Barney's Best, which is like Skippy, but gross.
2. Their teabags are strange.
3. They don't have coffee, just espresso and diluted espresso.
4. Everyone's really nice.
5. They all seem to think I speak French. Even the tourists ask me for directions!
6. It is such a small country, yet still seems to have sooo much space.
7. All the stop signs say "STOP" in English.
8. All the mens' shorts are so short.
9. My new Swiss bank account doesn't automatically have ten trillion dollars in it.
10. You can't smile in official photographs...

More to come. :]

taking photos has never been this challenging

Today was an adventure.
Not strictly an exciting, courage-inducing, risky type adventure... more of a long, walking required, hilarious and slightly embarrassing adventure.

Today, we registered for residency in the canton of Vaud. For those of you reading who are ignorant to the ways of Switzerland (only kidding... that was me a few months ago), cantons are like small states--more the size of counties--and all immigrants have to register soon after arrival. So, we traipsed up six trillion flights of stairs in the unusually hot Swiss weather. Next, we struggled to communicate with the woman behind the desk, who spoke very little English, until she summoned her colleague--who spoke slightly more English. We filled out a long and tedious form that was translated rather poorly from French, and then, after handing over passports, birth and marriage certificates, were told we needed to also provide three passport size photos.

So, we began our adventure. We wandered through tiny, darling streets until we found the supermarket, and dished over 16 CHF for six photos each at the instant photo booth. The photos came out appallingly badly, but we were in a rush to get to the bank, so we headed back towards the registry anyways.

Upon arrival, we were told that we were not allowed to show teeth in our photos. Apparently, all official photos in Switzerland must be taken with a "neutral" expression (at least that explained why the photographer barked at me in French when I smiled too widely for my school photo), so we had to go back to the photo booth, pay again, and take this time, even more hideous (and hilarious) photos.
At least this time, they were accepted.

an arrival

Claire est en la Suisse.

OK, that's about all the French I know, I admit.
But, Claire is in Switzerland.

It's crazy. To be quite honest, I can't quite believe that I'm not just here on vacation or something. Everyone speaks French. My parents and I have already made fools of ourselves in a café, a co-op, and a restaurant. It seems that a complete vocabulary of "oui, non, bonjour, merci and croissant" is not quite enough to get by.

But we're here. I've got to say, the trip over was probably one of the most unpleasant travel experiences I've ever had. We thought that once we were in the airport with our baggage, all the incredible stress and anxiety of the move would miraculously melt away--but it was not to be.

Our flight out of SFO (destined for Calgary) was 35 minutes delayed... and the flight took an extra 20 minutes. This wouldn't have been a problem, but for the fact that our one hour layover in the Calgary airport was now reduced to 5 minutes. Oh, and did I mention that Canadian airports make you go through customs, get your baggage, re-check it, and go through security AGAIN, even if your not even entering the country? And they're about twelve times more stringent with security, taking away stuff that SFO had no problem with (like my dull-nosed craft scissors. Um, hello? I could stab someone in the eye with my knitting needles, which I was let on the plane with, but my round-tipped scissors were too sharp??)... We were told that they would hold our flight to Frankfurt for us, but by the time we got our boarding passes, they told us that plane had left, and we were now headed for London. That wouldn't have been a problem if Heathrow wasn't a disaster. But it was.
We spent our entire three-hour layover in Heathrow first waiting in a line for new boarding passes, and then waiting in another, even more monstrous line to get through security--for the THIRD time (because apparently we could have aquired some sort of dangerous or prohibited item during the time that we spent over the Atlantic Ocean or something).
Luckily, the flight to Geneva was uneventful (except for the rather odd man next to me who kept up a mumbled running commentary of the entire flight for two and a half hours) as well as the trip to our rental house.

Now, we can breathe a little. The area is beautiful (I'll post pictures soon). There are still lots of logisitics to get through, but at least we're here, and no longer have to deal with the ten trillion little tasks of readying the house for renters. We hope that within five weeks, we'll have a permanent place to stay, means of communication, and at least a basic understanding of French (haha. Righttt).