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.

Berlin: Poor, but Sexy

I returned Saturday to Geneva from another excellent European city: Berlin. I had to leave Switzerland to get my student visa, and I chose Berlin since it was a capital city that I had yet to visit. I had a long layover in Copenhagen, so I ventured out of the airport and saw the city for about 3 hours. It was a nice, but short, first Scandinavian experience. Once in Berlin, the visa process went smoothly. I found the Swiss Embassy the first morning I was there, finished the paperwork, got my visa stamped in my passport, and headed out ready to explore the city.


Now, I have been thinking long and hard about the statement I am about to make, because I want to be sure in what I am about to claim. I think Berlin is the most interesting city I have ever visited. Ever. It is certainly not aesthetically appealing like a Prague or a Venice. Instead, it has massively daunting gray steel buildings everywhere that are typical of Communistic architecture. It is certainly not filled with dazzling shopping areas or global tourist hot spots like a London or a Paris. On the other hand, it has a really grimy, grungy and melancholic feel to it, and for this reason the city slogan is "poor, but sexy." Berlin has enormous unemployment and city debt. However, its recent history really appealed to and interested me.

The first full day, my friend Jo and I (he is Norwegian; we met during the summer French course in Geneva, and I invited him to come down from Oslo to meet me in Berlin) took a bike tour of the city. This proved to be a great choice because we got to see the whole city relatively quickly (5 hours) and had someone giving us information at each stop. Here is a pic of me on my bike, the government building that has a transparent dome to signify a transparent German government, and Jo and me in front of the remains of the Berlin Wall right near Checkpoint Charlie.




We also saw sights like Hitler's bunker where he shot and killed himself, a memorial to a massive book burning that took place under Communist leadership, the hotel where Michael Jackson dangled his child out the window for all to see, a plaza where Karl Marx used to preach, and a large Jewish memorial. This memorial was interesting because it is left open for interpretation--the designer says the meaning is for each person to individually interpret.

The next day, we did an alternative street graffiti tour. Berlin is renowned for its artistic, punk spirit of denying authority, and it really shows in its street art. We entered old, abandoned warehouses where squatters live, saw a mile long piece of the Berlin Wall ironically rebuilt just to be decorated with art, and just downright cool graffiti on the sides of buildings. Here are pics of a man made up of other naked, pink men eating a little white man, a corporate man bound in shackles by his gold watches while tightening his tie, me with some designs, and a piece on the rebuilt Berlin Wall.







All in all, it was a really nice way to end the summer. That is because I start classes tomorrow, so no more vacation for a little while. Maybe.

Meet the Neighbors

I recently moved to my new permanent residence in Geneva. It is called the Cite Universitaire. There are three buildings in total, and I somehow got lucky enough to land a shared apartment in the only building not consisting of traditional student dorms. I am now living with an Italian guy studying Economics, and a German guy studying Computer Programming. They seem like good guys.

Last night my roommates and I decided to go and introduce ourselves to our neighbors in our hall. First, we knocked on a door and four girls answered. They were nice, and a couple of them are here doing study abroad. The next door we decided to hold off on because there has been a baby stroller parked outside the door for the last week, and the names on the door indicate that a married couple lives there. (I guess there is some subsidized housing here for citizens who do not earn a large salary.)

The next door, we knocked, and all we heard was someone come to the door, pause, and then lock and bolt the door. I guess they did not want to meet the three young gentlemen from down the hall. The next door we came to was answered by a student doing his PhD in Biology. He invited us in to a dirty kitchen, and we had a brief conversation. He was nice, but it is obvious he is better at communicating with microscopes, Bunsen burners and petri dishes than with other students. At the last door, no one responded.

My bedroom is starting to feel a little more welcoming after decorating the walls with some pictures and University of Miami paraphernalia. I also put up my map of Europe with tacks in all the places I have visited. I started this travel log when I was studying in Spain, and oh how it has grown. I have really seen most of the key cities in western Europe. There are a couple of gaping holes that I would like to fill in, primarily southern France (Monte Carlo, Nice, Marseille) and northern Spain (Santander, San Sebastian, Pamplona).

After I visit Berlin this week, the next cities that I would like to see are Zurich, Vienna, Budapest, and Florence. At the moment, Prague is the eastern-most city that I have visited in Europe. I think visiting Scandanavia would also be quite cool, but those cities do not make the short list, and moreover, they are not ones to be visited with Fall and Winter right around the corner. Additionally, I have heard that Croatia has some great countryside and is quite cheap to visit. We will see where the discount airlines take me this Winter.

Venice: Everything I Hoped For

Venice was fantastic. Ana and I were only in the city for about 7 hours, but it was a 7 hours very well spent. We arrived via train, and our only goal in mind was to visit Piazza San Marco, or Saint Mark's Plaza. Other than that, we just wound our way through the old, curvy streets that cross over the canals. The streets were very narrow, and for September, there were a good amount of tourists. We thought of taking a gondola ride, but decided that our experience was full enough without perpetuating that tourist trap.
Here is me feeding the pigeons. They have actually stopped selling bird feed in the square, so we had to take a piece of bread from the restaurant to feed the birds. The only thing we could think is that the store owners and locals are tired of all the pigeon pleasantries left behind.



Here is me sitting in the Acqua Alta (high water) library. When high tide comes, I guess the water actually rises high enough in some places to enter the stores, like here. This bookstore had a lot of cool pictures and paintings of Venice.

Ana and I standing on one of the many bridges that cross the canals. There is one large canal that cuts its way through the city, and there are countless miniature canals.


While all of this was great and extremely memorable, I think the main memory I will have from my trip will be from Ana's grandparents. They live in a little town outside of Verona; it is about an hour train ride to Venice. We stayed at their place for 2 nights, and on the second night they took us to a great Italian restaurant that was very authentic and did not have the high price tags of the touristy Venice restaurants. It was cool to hear Italian being spoken.

The memory I will always have is of her Grandma trying to say my name. She could not for the life of her say "Chase." I realize that it is a very American name, and I have realized it more after being here for some time. She would try and try, saying things like "Chin, ch-ch-ch, shirk, cirque, chet, shay, cisk, shhhhh, etc.," but she could not get it down. It was pretty funny.

They were nice people, and they had a huge dog named Blackie. I thought to myself that this name would not be very well thought of in America. Additionally, their first dog was named Blackie. So, they would refer to Blackie, but then have to clarify that it was the first or the second Blackie. I think a new name would be easier, but who am I to second guess their naming system.

The Tooth Fairy is a ...

Today I am moving out of my apartment. I am headed to the Cite Universitaire, which is a student housing area with two buildings of student dormitories and one building of shared apartments. I will be moving into the building of shared apartments. Hopefully my roommates will be fun, nice, clean people.

Recently, I learned something that I thought was pretty funny. Here in Switzerland they do not believe in the Tooth Fairy. Still, they do believe that when a child loses a tooth, someone does come to take the tooth from under the pillow. However, instead of being a fairy, they believe that a little mouse comes to take the tooth in exchange for a Swiss franc or two. I think I would prefer to imagine a fairy in my room rather than a mouse.

The weather is really cooling off here. I am unaccustomed to wearing pants and a coat in late August, but that has been the case lately. I guess the months of September and October are pretty ugly and rainy. People cannot seem to believe this when I tell them, but I am actually looking forward to having a real winter this year. I know that I will probably regret saying this by Thanksgiving, but it gets old having sun and warm weather 24/7 like I had in Miami.

Tomorrow I am going to Venice with Ana. We will be staying with her grandparents Wednesday and Thursday night and going into the city on Thursday. I am excited to visit Venice. The first time I came to Europe I made a list of my top 10 European cities I wanted to visit, and I think Venice and Dublin are the only ones I have still not visited. I will be sure to take plenty of pictures in Venice.

Speaking of pictures, I have found that Europeans do not smile big, toothy smiles for pictures. While it is the custom for many Americans to show off their pearly whites in photos, Europeans think this is strange. Instead, they prefer to show a small, toothless grin for pictures. I refuse to conform to this, though, so I will continue to show big, toothy smiles. Maybe this is a result of Europeans lacking the same dental hygiene that we are accustomed to in America. That is the theory with which I am sticking.

An American Passed the French Exam

Well, I have officially passed the French exam proving that I have at least a level B2 in French. I got my results yesterday, and I was fortunate enough to have passed. So enough studying for a few weeks. My class ends tomorrow, and now I can finally relax and enjoy my 3 weeks of true summer vacation before classes start September 20.

I have a few trips planned coming up. In the making for next week, Ana and I are looking into a quick trip to Venice. Her grandparents live outside the city, and we may stay with them for a couple nights and go into the city during the day. Next, I just booked airfare to Berlin. I will be going there to pick up my student visa, and I've invited a few friends to go, so hopefully at least one of them will be able to go along for the trip. Otherwise, I'll just have to rely on making friends at the party hostels there.

I was recently told that I dress too American. That is to say, I am not European enough with my clothes. If being less American in my appearance involves dressing like some of these European guys, then I am not interested. For example, it is commonplace for men over here to wear capri pants. Plus, most of the guys wear jean shorts, or jorts, instead of khaki shorts or athletic shorts. And when they wear jeans, a lot of them wear jeans with zippers all over the place. What is with all the zippers? Another look that is popular is the Euro mohawk, more commonly known as the fohawk. This haircut is accompanied by large amounts of hair gel.

Also, when I had my French oral exam, the professors administering the exam asked me, "Why didn't you study French in America?" I thought to myself, "I never said I was American. Is it really that obvious?"

Speaking of this oral exam, I had a few difficult moments. At one point, the lady asked me what the word savon (soap) means. I could not remember, so I tried to ramble on and BS my way through the answer. She would have none of it. She said, "That's great, but what does savon mean? What is there a lot of in Marseille?" I responded that there is a lot of water in Marseille. She was not amused. Then I remembered, and told her that it was soap. Apparently the soaps in Marseille are well-known. Am I the only one in the world who does not know this?

I had always been proud to be American, but it was never an overwhelming sense of pride. However, now that I have lived in Spain for 5 months and Switzerland for 3 months, I must say that I feel more proud than ever to be an American. I am not sure why it happened this way for me, but it is how I feel. Perhaps because I see all of the great things we have in America. Maybe because the people are in general more warm and fun. Or it could be the professional and college sports. Something causes this strong sense of patriotism once I am abroad, I just have yet to put my finger on the exact source. I'll keep looking.

C1 Level, Crazy Teacher, and Grocery Stores

These are just a few pictures of me in Switzerland.

On Monday I took an unofficial French placement exam to be placed in a more challenging class for the final 3 weeks. Somehow I tested into the C1 level, which is really ridiculous in my opinion. I am with a bunch of students who have studied French or lived in a French speaking country for 4+ years. I am pretty good at hiding my weaknesses, though. I have learned a lot of shortcuts with the language to avoid problematic sentences. My writing is still weak, but the speaking and understanding are there.

I have to study like a madman the next week because my first try at the language exam is next Thursday. I am not too sure how that will go, but I guess I can see my problem areas if I fail the first time and try to study for the second attempt in early September.

My new teacher is a nice enough guy, but he is old and has some pretty absurd policies. For example, he told us the first day, "No drinking bottled water in class. Put it away." Someone objected based on the heat and lack of air conditioning in the room. He responded, "Water does not help you with the heat. That is the bottled water companies paying doctors and medical experts to say that water is good for you so the companies can sell more water." Additionally, he has worn the EXACT same outfit the first three days of class. I imagine he has not even changed his underwear.

I have bought a lot of groceries here (obviously), and I have a few complaints with the grocery stores. First of all, there are only two different grocery stores in all of Switzerland: Migros and Coop. They have obviously never considered a free-market economy based on competition because the products are the exact same and so are the prices. I need some variety in my grocery-shopping life. Second, the grocery stores close at 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, 6 p.m. Saturday, and are closed all day Sunday. This presents a problem if I forget to stock up for a few days. Additionally, the Migros does not sell alcohol. Third, the grocery stores charge a fee for bags. I like this concept because it contributes to sustainability. I use the same bag over and over again as do most people.

Getting Hustled in Geneva

There is a game I have seen being played along the streets of Geneva. It involves a person, I'll call him the house. The house has a miniature red carpet that he lays on the ground in front of him. He has three little boxes and a little white ball that sit atop the little red carpet. He puts the ball under one of the boxes, and then the house moves the boxes quickly while saying, "One, two three, one, two, three, one, two, three..." At the end, the people watching bet against the house in the hopes of having chosen the correct little box and doubling their money. This game is called bonneteau.

When I was first in Geneva, I was tempted to play a time or two thinking I would bet 10 francs and potentially come out with 20. I am not a huge gambler. Luckily for me, I never played. The other day there was an article in the newspaper about this game. Apparently it is a huge scam and the house never loses. The house has accomplices, usually two or three well-dressed adults. These accomplices bet 50-100 francs per round, usually losing, but sometimes winning. The house then takes their money or pays them, thereby enticing other people passing by to attempt to play. The house goes extremely so and makes it painfully obvious where the little white ball is when his accomplices bet. This creates the allusion for tourists that they can beat the house.

Back to the article I read. Apparently, there was a woman who gambled 1000 francs on a round of bonneteau. I do not know how stupid, wealthy, or wealthy and stupid a person would have to be to do that, but she did nonetheless. When she lost, the house took her 1000 francs and scampered away. However, she ran after him and started screaming and causing a scene the next place he stopped to play. The house gave her back 900 francs and ran off again.

I saw some people playing bonneteau today, and I decided to stop and watch. Sure enough, there were three people standing up front betting a lot of money--the accomplices. Then, an eager tourist bet and lost 50 francs. Some people were standing on the outskirts watching, and they started yelling "fraud," "cheat," "Go f*** yourself." One man took out his cell phone and started to call the police. The house and his accomplices yelled a slur of curse words and took off, surely to find their next unknowing victim.

So if you are ever in Europe, do NOT play the game with the little red carpet, the three little boxes, and the little white ball. Stay far, far away.

Bern and the Bern Bears

I visited Bern, the capital of Switzerland, on Monday. It is the fourth largest Swiss city with a population of around 120,000 people. It rained the whole day, but I still really liked Bern a lot. German is the main language in Bern, but English and French are common as well. Albert Einstein actually lived for seven years in Bern, and he reflects on that time in several biographies as being "the fondest years" of his life. Bern became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983.

The first picture seen above is taken from the famous Bern clock tower. Our tour guide made us wait 10 minutes in the rain just to see the hour turn on the clock. It wasn't quite what I was hoping for after standing in the rain.

The second picture is of the famous bears of Bern. I was told there were bears in Bern, but I expected them to be in a zoo. That was not the case. We were crossing the bridge over the river, and there were the bears on the edge of the river in a roomy cage. There were four bears: Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and two baby bears. As I stood over them and watched them, I couldn't stop thinking of the scene in Anchorman when Will Ferrell jumps into the bear pit and says "I immediately regret this decision."

The third picture is taken close to the parliament building overlooking the river. The river forms a horseshoe shape as it winds through Bern. The city itself was very uneven and my ears kept popping all day from the continuous change in altitude.

The fourth picture shows the Bern flag and the Swiss flag. Each Swiss canton has its own flag, and then obviously the country has its own flag. Bern's flag displays (what else) a bear; Geneva's shows an eagle and a key.

So the Jerk Store Called

Anyone who is a Seinfeld fan has undoubtedly seen the episode: The Jerk Store. In this episode, George is inhaling a plate of shrimp at a meeting, and his coworker takes a shot at him by saying, "Hey George, the ocean called, and it said it's running out of shrimp." Everyone laughs at George's expense, and George is not quick enough to think of a comeback. He thinks of a comeback 10 minutes later, but alas, at that point it is too late. His comeback: "Well the jerk store called, and it said it's running out of YOU." He then goes to extreme efforts to re-create the scene so that he can employ his clever comeback.

I had a similar encounter Friday night. I went to one of Ana's friend's birthday parties a little bit outside of Geneva. It was cool. There were a bunch of people in their mid-20s, many of them interning with the UN or World Health/World Trade Organization. Everyone spoke perfect English, and most people spoke at least 2 other languages fluently. Pretty impressive.

However, there was of course the ass of the party who was pretty drunk and may or may not have been under the influence of other drugs. He was wearing sunglasses at night, and when he passed I joked with him (in French) "It is pretty sunny tonight." He retorted with a slur of a sentence, which I did not understand. Then he said, "Just admit it, your French is not good." I guess his slurred words were implying that I don't speak clearly in French. I was kind of taken aback. Most people are friendly and complimentary when I use my French here. Then he rambled off some sentences quickly in French trying to embarrass me. But I understood and shot back the response to which he said, "Oh well, speaking and understanding are two different things aren't they?"

I didn't have a clever response, but 5 minutes later I found myself like George wanting to re-create the moment so I could use one of my surefire insults that were sure to hit where it hurts. I'm anxiously awaiting the moment where I can attempt to re-create the scene and employ one of my witty comebacks.

On another note, I hate my neck hair. My close friends all know that the hair on the back of my neck grows in a bizarre pattern: two vertical columns and a bald spot in the middle. I normally shave my neck with my electric razor or have a friend do it for me. When I lived in Spain, I used to make Stephanie or Ahyoung, my roommates, shave it for me. They hated it. However, I fried my electric razor in the outlet here because I forgot the voltage was not compatible. So I am without a razor to shave my neck.

As a result, I dared to ask Ana to wax my neck hair for me. I was curious about it, and girls are always talking about how waxing is way better than shaving. I figured I could handle it no problem, right? Wrong. It hurt so damn bad when she ripped that first piece of wax off the back of my neck that I wanted to cry. I managed to get it together and let her finish, but it was so painful and left my neck bright red and sore.

I'm debating on whether or not to switch back to shaving it.

Le Salève

The Salève is a mountain east of Geneva that makes up part of the Northern Alps. I actually live about a 20-minute run from the base of the Salève, and I see it every day when I look out my front door. Even though it is extremely close to Geneva, it is actually located in France. Its highest peak is 1400 meters.

On Wednesday, I went on yet another class field trip. We took a cable car up to the top of the Salève, went for a little bit of a hike, and then just kind of enjoyed looking over Geneva. Being able to actually see all of Geneva from a high vantage point made me realize that Geneva is indeed very small. There is a big cluster of buildings, the lake, and then open countryside for as far as the eye can see.

Here is a picture of Geneva taken from the Salève. The second picture is a picture of the people who jump off of the side of the mountain and parachute down. I watch groups of people parachuting off the mountain on sunny days. Maybe one day next summer I will be able to try.

Tomatoes and Erotica

Saturday I went to La fete de la tomate (The Tomato Festival) here in Geneva. However, when I first saw the signs posted around town I had visions of La Tomatina held annually in Bunol, Spain. Here, people gather and have the largest food fight in the world, throwing over 150,000 kilograms of tomatoes. So I thought it could perhaps be a smaller version of that, but La fete de la tomate was a little bit more calm.

In fact, La fete de la tomate is an annual tradition, and it is held at an outdoor market. There are over 50 different styles of tomatoes to taste. Additionally, there are all types of cheese, goat's milk, honey, absinthe, sausages and wines to taste. I tasted a lot, considered buying a bottle of wine, a small pot of honey, and a few tomatoes, but I ended up holding off and leaving empty handed. I probably should have bought a few tomatoes in retrospect.

The next topic has nothing to do with tomatoes, but I really would like to comment on its presence here in Geneva: erotica. I have started to try and read the newspaper in French throughout the day, attempting to build my vocabulary and see how much I can comprehend. In every newspaper I have read so far, I keep coming upon erotica advertisements... in the daily newspaper! There are people advertising for spouse swapping, homosexual and heterosexual adventures, and escort services. They describe their physical appearance, age, race and profession, but they do not stop there. They also describe their personal preferences and...well...you get the point.

Also, I have the most basic cable television package that Geneva has to offer. There are 40 channels, and only 15 are in French. The others are in German, Italian, Portuguese, and I have CNBC in English. However, when I've been flipping through the channels at night before bed, I occasionally run across what I consider to be soft core porn. They bare all, and it is basic cable television! For me, this is pretty strange. Still, I guess it all goes back to the fact that Europeans are more open with the human body while Americans are a bit more private in that department.

So in conclusion, I had a great time tasting tomatoes on Saturday.

Gruyeres: Cheese Country

Yesterday I went on my second field trip with my summer class. We visited Gruyeres, a small town of about 1,600 people just over an hour northeast of Geneva. What Gruyeres is really known for is its world famous cheese. Since I arrived in Geneva, I have been sure to buy Gruyere (spelled with a final "s" when it is the city, without when it is the cheese) cheese each time I go to the grocery store. It's too hot to eat fondue now, but I guess it is the best cheese to use when making fondue, a very traditional Swiss activity in the winter.

First, we went to yet another museum. And like usual, it was pretty boring. After, we went to the factory where the cheese is made. That was a little more interesting. The best part was undoubtedly the final visit: we went to the Chateau de Gruyeres (Castle of Gruyeres). It is surrounded by an extremely small town probably just there to give the tourists somewhere to stop to eat and buy some Gruyere cheese. The views of the surrounding mountains are nice, and there are a lot of cows hanging around in the fields.

After taking the bus back to Geneva, a few other students on the field trip invited me to go to an outdoor concert. For the entirety of July and August, Geneva has plentiful free outdoor concerts, plays, and movie showings. It is pretty cool. I think tonight I am going to an outdoor showing of O Brother, Where Art Thou. Geneva is definitely a lot better in the summer than in the winter based on my short observations.

Trip to Nyon

On Wednesday, I went on a trip with my summer course to the small city of Nyon. It is located about 15 miles north of Geneva on Lake Geneva. It is known for being an important colony in the Roman empire, for being the headquarters of UEFA (the association in charge of soccer in Europe), and for the porcelain that is crafted in the city.

Personally, I thought the visit was a little dull. We went to a castle first, but it was a very unimpressive castle. I have found while traveling through Europe that the so-called "castles" in each small city are usually pretty repetitive and unoriginal. It is just a way to attract tourists and get people to spend their money. Then, we went to a museum, which I found to be equally unimpressive. Still, Nyon did have a pretty cool, laid-back atmosphere. There were some really good views of Lake Geneva as well.

Here is a picture taken from the lake.


Later that night, I went to watch the Spain vs. Germany soccer match with some people. At half time, I saw an American football sitting in the yard, so I asked if anyone wanted to throw it around. A couple guys said sure, and we started throwing the football. I could not help but laugh the first time I saw one of the guys throw the ball. He didn't grip it by the laces, and he pushed it more than he actually threw it. The ball had no spin whatsoever, and it fell about 10 feet short of the person he was throwing it with. And the throws did not get much better. I guess I thought everyone knew how to throw a football, but as I saw, that is not at all the case.

I am picking Spain to win the World Cup this Sunday, and I think Germany will win the consolation game. I take Spain 1-0, scoring late in the first half and then playing shut down defense against Holland the rest of the match to take home it's first 1st Place finish in the World Cup.

4th of July Reflection

Yesterday was my first ever 4th of July out of the country. I guess I've become accustomed to the tradition of playing country music, cooking out, going to the pool, shooting fireworks, drinking beers, and feeling genuinely proud to be American.

Last year, I ran the Peachtree 10K road race in downtown Atlanta and spent the remainder of the 4th at the neighborhood pool. The year before, I was living in Nashville and my good friend Curt came to visit. We went to the Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, Jewel and Sammy Hagar concert at LP Field in Nashville. After, we walked on the streets in downtown Music City U.S.A. watching the fireworks light up the sky. The year before, I was on a boat all day at the lake, and I spent the night watching fireworks.

This year, I just wanted to make sure I did something somewhat similar. So, I went to a big public pool near my apartment. It was gigantic; the maximum capacity is 2,000 people. There were 4 pools, 3 diving boards, a huge slide, lots of European men who should not have been wearing Speedos, and multiple European women who should not have been topless. It was not the traditional American 4th of July, but I still had a good day.

One Week Down

Well the weekend is finally here. It was a grueling first week back to the grindstone. No more weekends that never end, or at least not for a while...

The first week has gone nicely. I am really enjoying being on a more fixed schedule. Even though I'm not wild about having Friday class (I was spoiled at UM and seldom had Friday class), I like settling into a routine. From 9-1 p.m. each day I am in my small class. In the afternoons, there are optional sessions that anyone can attend based on your level of French.

On Tuesday and Friday, I went to the writing session. We learned how to open and close letters and wrote post cards on Tuesday, and today I had to accept and reject an invitation to go to a party. It's pretty essential stuff to learn, especially for me since I have to turn down a lot of invitations to parties.

Today and Wednesday I also attended the pronunciation sessions. Here, I sat at a computer with headphones and a microphone. I listen to the French speaker say something, and then I repeat it, and I hear what I am saying. Thursday, I went to the grammar session. In the grammar session, we learned about les verbes pronominaux, or reflexive verbs. For example, in French (and Spanish), when you say "I brush my teeth," it is necessary to say "Je me brosse les dents" and not simply "Je brosse les dents."

Je (I) me (reflexive "me") brosse (brush) les dents (teeth).

Here is a good clarifying example.

Je (I) me (reflexive "me") reveille (wake up) means I wake up. It is necessary to put the "me" to show that it is me waking myself up. However, the "me" is not necessary when I say I wake up the children, "Je reveille les enfants." This is because the action (waking up) is not being performed on the subject (me), but rather on the children.

It is different from English, but I guess the reason is to show that the action is being performed on you and not on somebody else. The concept was not too difficult to grasp since Spanish is the same.

I am liking my new apartment. For the first 12 days of renting, I was in a different apartment. However, the guy I am renting from requested a change, and the change took place on June 30. It was a small switch, just from one building to its neighboring building. Now, I finally feel like I am living here and not just here for vacation. I finally unpacked a suitcase, so I guess that made me feel a little more at home. The roommate I have met is from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The other one whom I have not met is from India I think. And the guy's room I'm renting for the summer is from Algeria. Again, a lot of diversity here in Geneva.

I'm trying to decide what to do for the 4th of July. I think I might try and have an extremely American day. Any recommendations?

French Class Begins

My 9-week intensive French course began on Monday. The first day, all that we did in the morning was take a placement exam. It lasted for about an hour, and it was not too difficult for me. There was a brief orientation session and welcome to Geneva after, and in the afternoon, there was an seminar given in English and one given in French about why Geneva is so great. I decided to attend the French one, and I actually was able to understand a decent amount.

In the afternoon, we went on a tour of the old town of Geneva. I learned that John Calvin spent a large portion of his life here in Geneva, and there are several academic buildings in the old town named after him. He is the founder of Calvinism, a religion known for its reformed approach to Christianity. About two times a week there are excursions offered in the afternoon that students can pay a reduced fee to attend. These excursions are only for summer French course students.

On Tuesday, I had to come early in order to see which class/level to which I had been assigned. It is split up into two groups: the 9-week summer schoolers, and the 3-week summer schoolers. For the 9-week summer schoolers, there are a total of 7 levels, 1 being the true beginners to French, and 7 being the "advanced beginners" to French. To my surprise, I tested into the 7th level.

We started class, and I could not believe the variation in age of all the students. It ranges from 17-year-olds (there are a lot of high school seniors it seems like), to 70-year-olds. In my class, there are 12 students. Another thing that was a shock to me was the level of diversity in this summer course. I thought I knew diversity in Miami, but that does not even hold a candle to the diversity here in Geneva.

I am the only American in my class. There are 3 people from Russia, one from Germany, one from Afghanistan, one from Rwanda, one from Spain, one from Latvia, one from Lithuania, one from China, and one from the German-speaking part of Switzerland. It is a strange feeling (but one that I enjoy nonetheless) to do a partner speaking activity with a girl from Singapore and a guy from Kabul. Geneva looks like it will be quite an excellent place to study International Relations.

I am really progressing much quicker than I thought I would in French. We had to introduce ourselves in class and say for how long we had studied French. Most people had studied for at least a year (several for longer), and when it was my turn to say, I said I had been studying for 3 months, and my teacher was incredulous. The Rosetta Stone, although a bit expensive, really is worth it in my opinion. It has really given me a strong grasp on the pronunciation and listening comprehension aspect of learning the language.

Something I am determined to do with French that I never did with Spanish is force myself to speak it even when the person with whom I am speaking can speak English. Even though I have a strong control of reading and writing Spanish, I still make mistakes when I speak and pause at times. In other words, it is obvious that I'm not a native speaker. With French, I am not going to be nervous or afraid to speak with other people. If I make mistakes, that is the best way to learn, and that is the mindset I want to have this summer.

Lac Leman

I had the privilege of going on a field trip a couple of days ago with Ana's Mom's class. She is a teacher at a nearby preschool, so I was appointed one of four chaperones for the 16 3-year-old children. We went to Lac Leman, the lake in the heart of Geneva. Sixty percent of the lake lies in Switzerland, and the remaining 40% is in French territory. The Chablais Alps and the Bernese Alps border the lake. It is really nice to walk around the lake and admire the mountains and all of the boats. The commercial center is right there as well.

Here are some pictures of the lake. The first is a picture of me with the jet d'eau (jet of water) to the left. It is one of the most well-recognized landmarks here in Geneva.

When we arrived, we hopped into a little white touristic train that runs along the border of the lake for a couple of miles. There was some audio to listen to describing exactly what we were passing by, but it was pretty tough to hear over the screams of the 3-year-old kids. We got out at the end and walked through some gardens to enjoy the weather. Weather in Geneva is....difficult. It will be 80 F and sunny one day, and then 50 F and rainy the next day; I have been told that the weather I am experiencing is actually far and away the best that Geneva has to offer. It is not Miami weather, but I guess I will get used to it.

Last night I went to an outdoor viewing area with a big projector showing the Swiss soccer match against Honduras. It was full of Swiss hopefuls wanting to see their team advance to the knockout round of the World Cup. Unfortunately for the Swiss, they tied, and a tie was not good enough to send them through to the next round. Spain and Chile advanced ahead of them in their group. Consequently, the streets were packed with proud Spanish people waving their flags in the faces of all of the Swiss fans. They were celebrating as if they had won the World Cup; I wanted to remind them that they were supposed to win, and they still have four more games to go before becoming champions. I am going to the same place tonight to watch the USA match vs. Ghana.

Jetting Off to Granada

I just got back from a 4 night vacation to Granada, Spain. I lived in Granada for 5 months in the Spring of 2009; it was an unforgettable and truly life changing experience. So as can be expected, it was pretty fun to go back and visit my favorite places and be a bit nostalgic about my time there.

The first day there Ana and I went to the mercadillo, a huge outdoor market with a bunch of knockoff brand name merchandise and inexpensive food and souvenirs. In the afternoon, we went to visit the Alhambra. The Alhambra is a large palace and fortress built in the 14th century by Moorish rulers. The word "Alhambra" literally means red fortress. It is massive, and it sits high atop a hill.

The Alhambra was surrendered to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel (Los Reyes Catolicos) in 1492 when the Christian forces proved too overwhelming for the Moors. I have heard that the mother of the Moorish ruler saw her son crying and said to him, "Do not cry like a woman for what you could not defend like a man." It was later in that same year, 1492, that Christopher Columbus came to the Alhambra to propose his trip to the Americas to Isabel and Ferdinand.

Here is a view of the Alhambra from the Mirador, a site that Bill Clinton considers to be the best sunset he has ever seen.
Moorish poets wrote of the Alhambra that it is a "pearl set in emeralds." Washington Irving actually lived in the Alhambra for some time while he completed some of his most famous works, notably Tales of the Alhambra. It was thanks in large part to this collection of stories and sketches that the Alhambra was reintroduced to the Western world in the 19th century and has become a huge tourist attraction today. It really is an amazing place. I actually lived at the bottom of the hill to the right, and I could run to the Alhambra in no more than 10 minutes from my apartment.

Ana and I also enjoyed plenty of Granada's second-largest tourist attraction: tapas. I know many people who have eaten at tapas bars in the US, and they think it is neat, but are not overwhelmingly impressed by the experience. However, in Granada and only in Granada, when a person orders a drink, he receives a plate of small food for free with his drink. It is only necessary to pay for the drink, not the food that accompanies the drink. If you know where to go to avoid the touristic tapas bars in Granada, you can have a hearty dinner for the price of two beers (about 3.20 Euro). Trust me... I know where to go.

The food ranges from a full plate of shrimp and calamari to enormous meatballs and loaded baked potatoes. There are also plenty of ham-related dishes. Note: Ham is everywhere in southern Spain; do not go to southern Spain unless you are prepared to see cured ham hanging from the walls of bars and restaurants. Some of the best drinks are sangria, tinto de verano, and Alhambra Reserva 1925.

The trip to Spain was great and sunny, but my summer fun is coming to an end as my French course begins on Monday.

United Nations Visit

Yesterday Ana and I went on the tour of the United Nations headquarters here in Geneva. I could not believe it was her first time to visit after living in Geneva for 17 years.

The office in Geneva is the second largest office of the four major UN offices in the world. It is second in size to New York`s office, and third and fourth are Vienna and Nairobi. After WW1, the League of Nations was established to prevent another worldwide catastrophe. Since that did not work out so well, the League of Nations was replaced by the United Nations following WW2 in 1946. As it was signed into incipience, Lord Robert Cecil proclaimed, ``The League is dead, long live the United Nations!``

We were only able to visit one conference room during our visit. In this room, diplomats from each country meet to discuss international rules and regulations. There are clear glass booths wrapping around the top of the room; this is where the interpreters sit in order to rapidly translate the conversation into one of the six official languages of the UN. English, Spanish, French, Russian, Chinese, and Arabic are the six languages allowed to be spoken at any time in any conference of the UN. However, heads of state are allowed to speak in their own native language if they so choose. They bring their personal interpreters along with them so their message can carefully and diplomatically be translated into an official UN language.

This is the room we visited. I forgot my camera, so these are pics taken from the internet.


The mission statement of the UN is as follows.

WE THE PEOPLES OF THE UNITED NATIONS DETERMINED

• to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, which twice in our lifetime has brought untold sorrow to mankind, and
• to reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person, in the equal rights of men and women and of nations large and small, and
• to establish conditions under which justice and respect for the obligations arising from treaties and other sources of international law can be maintained, and
• to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom

I really enjoyed the visit, even though it was cut short because three of the four rooms usually visited were being occupied by conferences. Maybe in the coming years I will attempt for an internship at the UN in Geneva or New York, who knows.

Here is a pic of the front of the UN.

Two Weeks In

Hey everyone, I am creating this blog for all of my friends and family who want to keep up with me while in Geneva for the next 2-3 years.

Just to catch you all up, I graduated from the University of Miami (FL) in December, 2009. I took the following semester to decide exactly what I wanted to do with my life post-college. After much introspection and valuable discussion (thanks to everyone who listened to me and gave advice), I decided that I was not prepared to put away the textbooks forever. Instead, I decided that I wanted to pursue an international professional career, thanks in large part to my incredible study abroad experience in Granada, Spain in Spring 2009, and staying in school to complete a Master's degree seemed the best option.

I sent a last minute application off to the University of Geneva's Master's in Political Science with an International Relations track, and after anxiously waiting for 3 months, I was admitted to the program in May. However, I will have to complete an intensive French language course this summer and display a level B2 proficiency in French at the end of August (see http://www.coe.int/T/DG4/Portfolio/?M=/main_pages/levels.html for further description). After the presumed passage of that exam, I will have to complete the Annee Passerelle, or preparatory year, to be admitted to the Master's in Fall 2011. This is because I do not have an undergraduate degree in International Relations. All in all, my time at the University of Geneva should amount to 5 (least) to 6 (most) semesters of study.

So, there is work to be done.

For the past 3 months, I have been studying with the French Rosetta Stone about an hour a day, and I took an 8-week beginner's French course at L'Alliance Francaise in Miami.

I arrived in Geneva on June 2, 2010. For the first 12 days, I stayed with Ana and her family at their apartment. I recently moved into a student-shared apartment a little south of the city center (see http://maps.google.ch/maps?hl=de&client=firefox-a&hs=JrL&rlz=1R1MOZA_enUS376US376&q=rue+de+tambourine+geneve&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hq=&hnear=Rue+de+la+Tambourine,+CH-1227+Carouge+%28GE%29&gl=ch&ei=Q34aTNeKE8ibOJvNhL4K&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CBwQ8gEwAA).

I will be living here until the first of September, at which time I will hopefully have a positive answer from the university housing for which I applied. Note: There is a terrible housing crunch in Geneva, and it is very difficult to find inexpensive student housing.

I have tried out a little bit of my French. I have stumbled my way through conversations with Ana's Dad and Grandma, both of whom do not speak English or Spanish, so our only means of communication is French. I have been told I speak like a 2-year-old, but be that as it may, speaking is speaking. I'll have to wait for my intensive summer course to start before I can really make any serious strides in the language.

I want to leave myself material for my next post, so that is all for now. Bonne nuit a tout le monde!