Thursday, August 22, 2013

Rainy Days and Mondays in Switzerland


I'm currently sitting on a giant ball in the first bedroom I ever occupied during my time in Switzerland. It's 7:06 AM and pouring outside. Rainy days and Mondays always get me (Oh Carpenters...), oi, not down. I'm certainly not feeling down this morning.

When I travel, I love rainy days. I generally accept them as God's nudging-way of saying, “Slow down,” or “Enjoy a book,” or “Go write your guts out.” I've been going since last Saturday when I had my day of rest. Since then, every moment has, in general, been filled.

I am in Switzerland.

I've got this elated delight that comes from leaving a wonderful place and returning and it still feeling like home. I still feel like I belong. I don't mean belong quite in a full social sense. I still have friends here to visit and be with and I love that. But, just staring out at those mountains. Sigh. I could do that all day (paired up with some hiking boots and a wanderweg) and be content.

There's a sense of satisfaction when things come, yet again, full circle.
I feel rooted hopping back here and being able to go to church and see the same fabulous brothers and sisters. And, there's a joy from giving someone a hug who hadn't even a clue that I was in the country. Part of that joy comes from the surprise of it all, but most of it comes from the coordination of things that I can see them again.

I love this country. I really do.
It's not the same sort of love I had back when I was sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen, though.

Sixteen and seventeen were that sort of naive love that a girl desiring to be loved has for a man the shows her the slightest attention. It was a blind love that came upon leaving America and deciding to make the most of my year here and discovering how to be me in full. It was an unrealistic love that failed to see the faults of this country and glorified it on it's own little pedestal.

I've since taken Switzerland down off that pedestal and can now look it straight in the eye when I say, “I love you.”

Am I getting creepy or does this resonate with anyone else?

I have considered Switzerland home, before, multiple times – and I love the feeling of coming home. I like observing old routines and familiarities and sights.

I love the people. I love the food. I love the paths.
And I especially love the landscape, here.
I love the feeling of being nestled on a mountain side and looking out into the bowl that holds the Sarnersee (Lake Sarnen) and the other communities pasted and sprinkled on the other sides of the lake.

Those mountains are the perfection of Switzerland, no doubt.

1 comment:

  1. "Sixteen and seventeen were that sort of naive love that a girl desiring to be loved has for a man the shows her the slightest attention. It was a blind love that came upon leaving America and deciding to make the most of my year here and discovering how to be me in full. It was an unrealistic love that failed to see the faults of this country and glorified it on it's own little pedestal.

    I've since taken Switzerland down off that pedestal and can now look it straight in the eye when I say, “I love you.”

    Am I getting creepy or does this resonate with anyone else?"

    Oh yes. I think I know exactly what you mean. Absolutely.

    ReplyDelete

Your words make me grin.

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