blogging from zurich with love and the uncanny ability to predict nothing.
i had a few days in the bernese highlands and returned to the pied-à-terre yesterday for a few hours, that is, long enough to change my travel luggage from a 50 liter backpack to one of those trolley bags with wheels and a bit more comfort. needless to say that the contents of the luggage had to be heavily edited from those containing attire suitable for sweating and physical activity to the more brainy attire one wears in the city.
if you had asked me a few months ago what i would be most likely to be doing today, the last thing that would have occurred to me is that i would be sitting in all comfort in zurich with the powerbook in front of me while my friend's husband has gone shopping for groceries. this after we shared breakfast with their sports page devouring eight year old and i delighted in the pleasures of coffee and three gummy bears. this is not my usual breakfast, but then nothing is usual these days, not here, not with me. although i hang to my routine as an anchor to rope, that same routine has been interrupted since wednesday and it shows no indication of returning until next week.
while i suspect that my motivation for the foray into the bernese highlands is to be found somewhere in the opportunity to rough it and share sleeping quarters with another twenty women, thus giving me the opportunity to keep them awake with my snoring, the lessons learned in this little retreat did surprise me. it did not surprise me that after three days of wonderful camaraderie and nice clean fun, i did declare to have reached my asocial stage, and that i really was not much for conversation.
in the highlands two things did surprise me: one is that i forgot that i do snore when i have a cold and my respiratory track is not free, and the other is that a man would complain, perhaps even threaten, when this light weight of a woman defends herself from his attack. perhaps i ought to be surprised that i am capable of defending myself. this is not a surprise, it is a commitment, if not a very natural instinct to just defend myself. my observation is that our wonderful society works hard on forming women's identities to the shape of defenseless victims.
it also did not surprise me that when asked for the umpteenth time as to where i come from, my most immediate reaction is that of wanting to punch the interrogator. i am tired of that question, it does feel like an attack. i know that my accent can not be placed, not even by people who are good at such things. i am tired nonetheless of that same question. is this the transition to indifference or is there something that i am fighting? when i resist the question and say something that is unexpected, i am always faced with the other's irritation of not having his curiosity satisfied. perhaps it is normal for people to want to know where i come from, perhaps that could explain something to somebody, but deep down me i resist the invitation to fulfill somebody's expectations of how i ought be.
in short: i am alive and kicking and my friend's eight year old boy keeps on trying to understand and anticipate the performance of the various football teams after lunch while the rest of us sit behind lcd screens with keyboards trying to write.
welcome to my life!
