A difficult week is drawing to a close. I have not been feeling well. In frustration, I paid a visit to the school nurse, an intuitive and talkative woman who, after a few minutes of conversation, suddenly exclaimed, “Now I see what is wrong with you! You need two things – fish, and to ride a bicycle!” It was incredibly strange. Although I have not had a chance to purchase fish oil yet, I’m feeling better, and really do wish I had a bike. I need to exercise. I want to move. On impulse, I decided that tomorrow after school, I will board a train for Interlaken, awaken early Saturday morning, and spend the day hiking around the area before returning to Lugano on Saturday night. I have no one to go with me, but the fact that this doesn’t bother me is quite freeing. It’s supposed to pour rain all weekend, but who cares. I’m sure it will be amazing anyway, and so nice to get out of Lugano. I got my Swiss residence permit today (beautiful!) and will get my student’s after-seven train pass tomorrow. I’m excited.
I failed to previously mention that last Saturday, Greg, Quinn and I walked to Italy. The 3-hour walk included such exciting events as wading in a river, a close encounter with Ronald McDonald (on Quinn’s behalf), an indulgent visit to a Swiss chocolate factory, and the discovery of one of the most magical suburbs I have ever seen. After crossing the border, we visited a local market selling mostly purple and silver clothing and lingerie, but also such delicacies as cheese, pastries, alarm clocks, small animals, and nail polish.
We were about to leave when the sky spontaneously burst and the most torrential downpour I have ever witnesses splashed down from the sky in what felt like one giant wave. Greg fled to buy lunch. Desperately, Quinn and I sought refuge under the tented roof of a cheese stand, attempting to awkwardly eat our packed lunches while avoiding the sheets of water cascading around us. It was then that we were first exposed to the warm generosity of Italian cheese salesmen, who fed us fresh parmesan and rice cakes until the torrent subsided. Talking to Quinn, I would suddenly realize that the salad in my hands had been sprinkled with fresh crumbles of Italian cheese. It was wonderful. Afterwards, soaked from the flash flood despite rain gear, boots and umbrellas, we decided on a cup of coffee at an indoor cafe. Greg, the most linguistically talented, first ordered for all of us in Italian, but upon encountering a slight difficulty in communicating his wishes, suddenly switched to Mandarin Chinese, which the waitress spoke. Anyway, we walked back to Switzerland and took the FLP-train (flip train) home after that, but it was quite the day.
Oh, by the way, yesterday I cleaned the boys’ dorm, P7. I mopped the floors with bleach, scrubbed their toilet and bidet, and rearranged the furniture. It looks incredible. I’m starting to get some sort of weird motherly instincts telling me to do things like this.