I could write volumes. Each day brings something entirely new, be it a new word, face, cultural encounter. Everything is something--every step a discovery, every conversation an adventure, each class unpredictable. and the views are breathtaking.
the plane trembled as we coasted across Lake Geneva through the vast Jura mountains that trapped swabs of thick clouds in their valleys. My head rests on the wall as we descend. the woman in the bunk below me at the hostel in London snored so loud that she made another woman cry... I close my eyes and in the darkness flashes a keleidescopic wave of memory. I marinate in gratitude as I reflect on the last year and a half of anticipation. Its a flight unlike any other.
Its pouring rain when we land, and the reast of the group isnt scheduled to arrive for another three hours. I see a sign finally for the school for international training, and eventally we all load our stuff on the bus.
Orientation was interesting, seeing as we all--all 50 some kids in both programs (one in International Studies, Orgs and Social Justice, and our in Development Studies and Public Health)--were staying in a Youth Hostel in the heart of Geneva with kids from all over the world. Everyone was jet lagged. I was glad I adjusted early.
Our Acedemic Director: Dr. Earle Nolte. This guy is an international powerhouse. Hes got his Doctorate in international studies and humanitarian law from the University of Geneva, taught at the institute for humanitarian Law in Italy, spearheaded post conflict transformation projects in Afghanistan, Nicaragua, and Palestine, and worked on confidential missions with Amnesty International-- for example. He seems to know everything, personifying grace, class and poise, and despite the fact that French is the first of the five languages he speaks, his English is better than mine. I want to talk to him for hours. He gives us our basic travel materials, welcomes us to Switzerland, and illustrates a glimpse of what were in for--an opportunity to explore the breadth of our humanitarian curiosity, engage in a project situated nearly anywhere in the world, expand the breadth of our global consciousness, and delve into the action of the contemporary international community.
The other 18 students in the group come from all over the world--Ethiopia, Nigeria, Haiti, Albania, Hawaii, Cali, China, Costa Rica, and a bunch from the east coast. Jeff is particularly curious. Hes got beautiful blond dreadlocks, and is bronzed from having hust spent the summer on a permaculture commune in Oregon. He grew up in Haiti, spent the last twelve years in Albania where his mother managed the Peace Corps' local projects and his father headed the USAid Headquarters, and speaks very proper english, complete with a British accent.
I cooked in the Hostel's kitchen, where I met people from all over the world. Thursday evening, we returned from a guided tour through Geneva's magnificent old city, and I met a group of kids from Germany, France, Geneva, Italy, Morocco, etc. They had all met in Montreal, kept in touch and decided to come to central Geneva for a week for fun. Since the US wasnt represented in their group, they invited me to come along, so in the haze of the three-four different languages each of them spoke, I ventured out and became oriented to new heights of internationalism.
When we had a few hour of free time, I went down to the water front, where across the shimmering lake and through the tall ship silhouettes, I gaye upon the red roofs of small French Villages on the Hillside--resting in the shadows of the french alps that tower behind them. Along the waters edge, groups of children feed the swans, hot tubs breath steam into the wind, and sailors/windsurfers dock their crafts into the Marinas. Behind me is a row of buildings--homes and business and hotels with equisitly intricate architecture, and many swiss flags. A few blocks away, fountains flank the intensively flagged entrance to the United Nations' headquarters. The Palais de Woodrow Wilson has a block all its own around the corner from the UN High Commissioner for Refugees. Down a given street, I pass the relatively inconspicuous University for International Development, a poster inviting me to join a conservation project in Bangladesh with the local WWF (zou know I was tempted), and some graffiti that reads, "Relax, the world is yours." I take a picture.
On Sunday, after a thoroughly physical, intellectual and cultural orientation, we finally meet our host families! Marylane comes to pick me up with her two kids, Amelie and Jerome, who greets me with a big hug. We talk for a little while with each other and the other families/students before loading the car and driving some 30 minutes to their/our home in Aubonne. I must close now… but in a nutshell: many kittens, trampoline, lots of kids, 300 year old home, sunflowers, Nintendo, Big family and many languages J
