So the last three Sunday mornings I have participated in group running sessions held in a different part of Geneva each Sunday. It is a good way to see parts of Geneva that I would never see otherwise; the trainings tend to be in the outskirts of town. It is all in preparation for the Escalade, which is a city-wide 8k held in early December. It celebrates the city's national day of independence, a day in the 1800s when they warded off French invaders attempting to conquer the city and make it a part of France. Here is me running the first weekend.

As a large group, we always begin the training sessions with a 20-minute stretching and warm-up. A male personal trainer who is quite feminine leads us in everything from the step-touch (a very emasculating movement bouncing from side-to-side) to squats and running as hard as we can in one place. I think I would be just fine to stretch and warm-up on my own, but as I have been told, this is why I am running in a group--to enjoy the "group" dynamic. The first week I was a little competitive, getting annoyed when the run was moderated by 50-year-old men leading the group who will not allow anyone to pass. Again, part of the social group running I suppose. Last week I decided just to run at a reasonable pace and not worry about beating the soccer moms and 12-year-old girls. I enjoyed the scenery instead.

Classes are going well so far. I am reading a LOT and currently setting a personal best in class attendance. I have only missed 30 minutes of class so far. Big star for me. Speaking of stars, I have also devised a personal motivation plan for waking up in the morning. I am someone who has always struggled with mornings. Waking up is typically the hardest part of my day. So, to motivate myself to get up at a reasonable hour, I have awarded myself a Star each morning I am up before 9:30. However, I can lose a Star if I rise after 10. The time in between is the neutral zone. Currently, I am the proud owner of 6 Stars; once I get 15, I am going to reward myself with something (I have not yet decided what it will be).

I have started to talk a little bit with some of my French-speaking classmates. It is easy to talk to the English speakers, but the Frenchies are a little bit more intimidating. A big problem for me has been remembering people's names upon meeting them. This is because names are different here. Instead of John, it is Jean-Jacques. Instead of Paul, it is Pierre-Alexandre. Instead of Matt, there are names like Florentin, Florian, Pascal, etc. I am not saying these names are not nice; they are just a bit harder for me to remember than stereotypical American names. On the other hand, they struggle with my name, too. Chase is quite unique here.

Daylight Savings Time takes place in Europe one week prior to the changing of the clocks in America. Just like in America, everybody here complains about how dark it is at 5:30 and how depressing that can be in the Winter. Well, I am off to watch the Canes play Georgia Tech on my terrible internet connection. I see about 5 seconds of the game, it freezes for 10 seconds, then I see 2 more seconds, it freezes again, and you get the idea. If only I had an American cable package...

A Swiss Halloween

Saturday night I went out with a group of friends for Halloween. I had been told from the beginning that Halloween is only in the past five years or so starting to catch on a little bit in Geneva. I think the only people who have really started to follow the American tradition are the ones looking for an excuse to have a party.

The night started off at a little bar. I decided to quasi-dress up, and I wore a nice shirt and tie, black dress pants and dress shoes. I said I was employed and had a lot of money. However, nobody really got the joke; the Swiss did not seem to understand that costumes can be a joke instead of being something scary or typically Halloween.

I did not see many people wearing costumes, but the costumes that I did see were witches, devils and black cats. While there is nothing wrong with these costumes, I guess the idea of costume originality has not really caught on yet here. I mean honestly, how original is it to dress up as a witch for Halloween?

I was reminded of the movie Mean Girls. Ya, I said it, I have seen Mean Girls. And it was surprisingly funny. The part wear Lindsey Lohan's character, a teenage girl from South Africa who recently moved to America, goes to the high school Halloween party. Instead of dressing up like a prostitute as most teenage girls do these days, she dressed up like the Bride of Frankenstein. I guess it is a purely American tradition for girls to dress up as street walkers for Halloween. Still, maybe the holiday would catch on a little bit more over here if European girls did decide to conform to the American trend.

We ended up going to a pretty alternative club later that night. By alternative, I mean people dress pretty grungy, the building is old and run down, the walls are covered with graffiti, and the music is of the house-techno genre. I can handle the techno music every now and again if I am out at a club. Needless to say, I really did not fit in with my costume. If I go to this club again, I will pass on the GQ look and stick to dirty old converses and jeans with holes in them.

I saw a few people who I could have sworn were dressed up for Halloween at first glance. After studying the situation a little more closely, I realized that they were just your garden-type gothic youths. All black clothes, big black boots, chains on their clothes, spiked hair, pale skin, dark make-up around their eyes, you get the point. I wondered why I was shocked, and then I remembered that I have lived in Miami and sunny southern Spain the last four years. In these places, there are not a lot of gothic people. They prefer to avoid the sunniest places on the planet and stick to cold, darker areas where they will not die of heatstroke when wearing their big black boots and trench coats.

The Kissing Evolution

When I was younger, I was taught that I should shake hands with people upon meeting someone for the first time or simply seeing a friend. As I entered my high school years, it became commonplace to hug a girl upon seeing her, but to still shake hands or give high-fives to guys upon seeing them. I think this is pretty standard for the majority of America, especially for those of us who were raised in the suburbs.

Then, when I arrived in Miami, I started seeing this new phenomenon that absolutely blew my mind and made me a little uncomfortable at first: people were exchanging kisses on the cheek as a friendly greeting method. At first, I was pretty hesitant and slow to acclimate. I remember vividly the first time that a girl went in for the kiss-on-the-cheek-hello, I was at a loss and really had no idea how to react. I just kind of stood there, half hugged her, and let her kiss me on the cheek. I think a lot of this influence comes from the Latin vibe down in Miami; it is the cultural norm for many Hispanics.

Then came my study abroad experience in Spain. I still had not completely warmed to the idea of one kiss on the cheek when to my dismay, I saw people everywhere doing two kisses: kiss on one cheek, quickly pull the head back, rotate the neck, kiss on the other cheek. However, I got the double kiss down pretty smoothly. Maybe it was a direct effect of the frequency of drinking alcohol in Spain that made me more comfortable kissing people hello, or maybe it was my willingness to open up to other cultures as someone studying in another country. Regardless, when I got back to Miami, the single kiss was a breeze.

Two kisses is the maximum, right? Nobody in their right mind would do more than two, right? Wrong. Now that I am living in Geneva, the customary greeting is three kisses. It is a little bit time consuming to be honest. This is because the kisses come at the greeting, and then they come again when someone departs. So there are a lot of cheeks being kissed. Nevertheless, the kissing has really grown on me. I find that it is a warmer way to greet friends, family, or friends of friends. Sure, three might be a little over the top, but I am going with the flow.

I am just waiting to find the country where four kisses will be the social norm.

The Stereotypical Frenchman

Last night I went out to have a couple of beers with a few guys I know from class. It was me, another American, a French guy, and two Swiss-German guys. We got into a discussion about stereotypes and what our respective countries think of the others. So the French guy went first, saying that French people think Americans are loud, easily excitable and overly demonstrative. For example, he says he met an American in New York, and upon learning he was French, the American yelled, "Oh my GOD, you are FRENCH? Wowwww, like from PARIS OR WHAT? Say something in French!"

Then it was our turn to say what the stereotype in our countries was of the French. We all agreed that the stereotype is a cold, unwelcoming people who are more than a little rude to outsiders. Then, we started talking about how a typical French person looks. We started off with the pointy, overly formal shoes that are worn even on the most informal of occasions. Then the tight, dark blue jeans, a long-sleeve collared shirt covered with a sweater, and then a trendy blazer usually over that. Definitely wearing a scarf; probably carrying a baguette; possibly wearing a beret; prone to carrying a fashionable handbag.

On this last point, the French guy started saying how he needs a new Longchamp hand bag for class. I said, "Oh yeah, my girlfriend was saying she needs one too." He insisted that men and women's Longchamp bags were different, and he even went so far as to sketch the difference out on a napkin. When he drew the "man's" Longchamp bag, I again said,"That is exactly the one my girlfriend wants." It reminded me a lot of the Seinfeld episode where Jerry buys a European carry-all, and when robbed on the street, he yells, "Officer, that guy just stole my European carry-all!" The officer says, "Your what? Oh, you mean your purse?"

We also joked that French people like to ask rhetorical questions in conversation, and then shrug one shoulder and stick their chin out in front of their face and higher than normal. Also, when they do not know the answer to something, they make a peculiar little noise. To replicate this noise, purse your lips and blow air out from between your pursed lips. It sounds like a little fart.

There is a joke that goes like this: There are two French butts sitting on the beach talking to each other. One butt asks the other butt, "What time is it?" The other butt responds with the little fart noise.

The conversation got a little more serious when we started talking about Nicolas Sarkozy and the recently enacted law that the retirement age in France will change from 60 to 62. The French guy got really worked up about it, telling stories about how rude and power hungry Sarkozy acts. Next week there are going to be daily protests against this new law. I am in three-person group for one of my classes, and when we were trying to arrange a time to meet to discuss a research paper, the French guy (a new one, not the same one) said he could not come next Thursday. I asked why not, and he said he is taking part in a protest in France Thursday against the new law. That was honestly the first time someone has told me they could not do something due to a social protest.

Bikes, Bars and Hookers

Classes are in full gear at the start of the fourth week. We only have 14 weeks of class, but we go all the way through Christmas Eve, which is an absolute travesty in my opinion. Who ever heard of going to school on Christmas Eve? Not me.

I had my first ever presentation in French in front of my International Relations seminar last week. I hate reading presentations, so I tried to just talk to people and make eye contact with the class like I would do in an English presentation. It did not go quite as smoothly as it would have in English. My mouth got really dry, my armpits starting sweating, and I stumbled my way through the presentation. I got my point across, but I was certainly anything but the smooth talking presenter that I normally am. I will have to work on it, because I still have two more presentations this semester in my other two seminar courses.

Last weekend I went out to a bar with some friends I met this summer. My roommate offered to let me take his bike, so I took him up on the offer because the buses and trams take quite a while to arrive to where I wanted to go. I must have biked about 9 or 10 miles in total that night, but I cannot remember the last time I had so much fun on a bike. I am not really sure if I followed the proper biking rules of Geneva, but I tried to stay in the bike lane as much as possible. Then when the bike lane would disappear, I just kind of cruised in the middle of the road. That may have been the wrong decision, but the streets were relatively empty at 3 a.m.

We went out in a pretty dodgy part of town. Geneva has a rule that prostitution is legal as long as there is no third party involved (a.k.a. a pimp), and the area we were out in was more or less Geneva's red light district. The bar was pretty interesting too. There were a lot of girls who looked pretty manly, and after seeing the sizes of their calves, it becomes pretty apparent that they were not actually girls. But that is the life in free-thinking Geneva I suppose. If you do not want to see that, then go out in a different part of town.

This is my first Fall since 2005. As unmanly as this is going to sound, I really enjoy seeing all the leaves changing colors and falling off the trees. In Miami that does not happen. With the cold weather, out come the scarves. People here absolutely love scarves. I go to class, and everybody around me is sporting a scarf; even in class they do not remove the scarves. I have three scarves in my wardrobe. I think I need to up that number to at least nine to fit in around here.

Cultural Learning Points

This evening I informed my Italian roommate that I had finally purchased a bag of instant coffee, so now I would be able to drink coffee at home in the mornings. We do not have a coffee machine in our apartment, and coffee machines in Geneva are way outside of my budget, so I have been going without since I arrived. Earlier in the summer, I attempted to buy a bag of instant coffee, and I incorrectly bought Espresso mix. So, I was excited that I had finally bought the instant coffee tonight.

However, upon telling my roommate that I have been going without coffee, he kind of laughed and asked me why I did not use the Espresso maker that we have. I responded that I did not know we had an Espresso maker, and where was this machine hiding in our little apartment? He then opened the cupboard and showed me a little metal pot. Incredulous, I asked how that little thing made Espresso. He then explained to me how to fill the bottom with water, the next piece with the Espresso, screw on the top, and place it on the stove to let it heat for about five minutes. I felt a little bit foolish.

Another time, I had decided to buy a microwave for our apartment because that is an appliance that I use practically every day. Upon seeing the microwave, my Italian roommate informed me that he had never actually had a microwave while growing up. His family thought it silly to reheat yesterday's meals instead of simply preparing a fresh, warm meal for that day. Incredulous yet again, I thought about how often I use a microwave, and I wondered how somebody could live without one.

Each day I carry in my bag a grocery bag to use if I decide to go to the store that day. Here, it costs money to buy grocery bags (50 cents / bag). This is because of the environmentally friendly culture that exists in most of Europe--they do not believe in wasting 20 or so plastic bags each time that you go to the store as most Americans do. My roommates here actually told me that they take classes in high school on the subject of how to cut down on waste and be more green. I really think this is a great idea, and I will probably continue to take my grocery bags with me to the store even if I move back to the US after finishing my studies.

Not Quite a Denny's Grand Slam

This morning I went with Ana to have breakfast at a restaurant for the first time in Geneva. The place was really good, and it had a deal going: the full breakfast for the price of 10 Swiss Francs. As an American, when I think of full breakfasts, I think of the Denny's Grand Slam. In other words, I think of a plate overflowing with eggs, toast, hash browns, and bacon. I also think of a coffee with free refills, and maybe even an orange juice on the side.

However, the Swiss idea of a full breakfast is a little, well, smaller. It consists of a coffee to drink, three pieces of toast, and butter and jelly for the toast. For the Swiss, the fact that butter and jelly are included is a big deal. Do not get the wrong impression; I am not insulting the Swiss breakfast. First, it is much easier on the fat intake. Instead of being a meal that satisfies a person's daily calorie count, it leaves plenty of room for calories in the next meals. Plus, the jelly is great and not just something out of a jar bought in a store. Additionally, the coffee comes out in a cool little personal mug for me to pour coffee into my glass as I please.

On a side note, I will say that I have found several food items that I prefer in Switzerland. First, the chocolate is great. I was never a huge chocolate eater, but since I have been here I think I consume chocolate at least once a day. Second, the bread at the grocery stores and restaurants is always fresh and tasty. They are very particular about their pastries and morning bread. Third, the cheese is pretty spectacular. And finally, the fruit and vegetables are much better. Still, I do miss a lot of American food, namely Mexican restaurants, Chick-fil-A, and buffalo wings.

I finished the first week of real class at the University. It is pretty different from my experience at the University of Miami. First, there is no busy work or weekly assignments. The only grade in each class is a final exam at the end of January. Period. If you fail the final exam, you fail the class. And I guess it is quite common to fail an academic year over here. Maybe it is because we pay so much in America that we expect to pass, but here, if you do not bring your A game to the final exams, you will be repeating that academic year.

Another difference is the price of books. Most professors put all the assigned readings on the Internet so we can easily access them without being required to buy a book. This cuts down on costs enormously. In one class, the professor required us to buy a book that costs $45. The students around me were up in arms at the thought of paying that much for a class.

Also, Switzerland leads the world in the amount of waste recycled per year. 52% of its waste is recycled annually. Austria is second, and Germany is third. The USA is seventh at 31.5% of waste recycled annually. So, teachers here do not like to print a lot of papers. I did not even receive a syllabus in any of my classes. We are expected to access that online.

I am curious to see as class continues how I feel about the value of a Swiss education versus an American education. I am withholding judgment at the current moment until I see how the semester plays out.