Doing. Being. Two words that I have been thinking about a lot over the past couple of years, as I've realized that my identity and self-worth have always been caught up in the former - achieving, working tirelessly, care-giving, managing/organizing/planning, and so on. Of course, none of these things are negative in and of themselves, and of course, they contribute to my identity, however; at some point, some semblance of balance was thrown wayyy off. Recently, I've been considering what it is to just "be" - am I "enough", just as I am, without all of this doing? Would others still see me as enough? Would I see me as enough? Not always planning ahead, not always imagining how to best take care of everyone in every situation, not always having an incessant need to give 110% in all aspects of my life...but rather, just allowing myself to be authentically me in each moment, and trusting that this is enough.
This has been an important theme for a while, and as I've already written about, was part of the intention in coming on this journey: letting go of my need to plan and achieve, and just be authentic-travelling-Liz for a while. I've been considering another layer of this, which pertains to the trip itself. Though I didn't necessarily say it out loud, those "doing" parts of me were putting pressure on myself in embarking on this trip - that I would return to life in Ontario with my relationships, career, etc, figured out, and hey, maybe while I was at it, I could work on learning a new language, volunteer on an organic farm for a couple of weeks, or at the very least, research and possibly visit some potential phd programs. Doing...
(...Just when I think I've quelled the over-achiever in me, she comes back in a different form!)
...Being...Maybe this highly intentional being in Europe is more than enough. That in ceasing trying to figure everything out, perhaps I will figure out more than I could have imagined. So. I'm trying to just let each day unfold, trusting that it will be what it is meant to be, and that I will be led where I am meant to be led. Re-wiring years of other patterns. Believing that for today, this is exactly enough.
I arrived in Lucerne on Wednesday evening, and it immediately felt a bit more "real" than the idyllic Switzerland I had seen thus far, as the train travelled through an industrial area of town. My days in Lauterbrunnen were well-timed in terms of weather,as since Wednesday, this area has been in fog at all locations below 1700m. Yesterday I went into a souvenir shop to look at postcards, in order to learn what the view of the mountains is like from town (the postcards are quite lovely!), as I certainly haven't seen a mountain since Wednesday. Despite the fog and general grey of the weather, I have been fortunate that I haven't had to get out my umbrella until today (and in fact, the last time I needed an umbrella was in Vienna - August 31st!!! I have had the most amazing weather on this trip...)
Thursday morning was spent sleeping in (MUCH needed), and then the afternoon was spent wandering the Old City centre: quaint pedestrian streets, brightly coloured shops, Gothic and Renaissance churches, and the clear Reuss River and Lake Lucerne (how do they keep their water so clean??) Lucerne's most photographed sight is the Kapellbrücke (Chapel Bridge) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kapellbr%C3%BCcke), the oldest wooden covered bridge in Europe. Thursday evening, I took myself out for dinner (in my Swiss price range, meaning I had spring rolls and a salad) at a little artsy hang out, which advertised live jazz in the evening. After my meal, I headed downstairs to a cozy little room, and listened to the sounds of "DKSJ All-Star Projekt" - 5 guys (2 sax, 2 keyboards & percussion), combining experimental-jazz/post-rock sounds with wacky images projected onto a screen at the front of the stage - intense, while also fun and quirky, it was a great vibe, and I realized that it had been too long since I had heard live music!
Given the day I had yesterday, it seems that the universe knew that I needed some comic relief. Despite the foggy and very grey weather, I decided to rent a bike and go for a ride along Lake Lucerne - I had heard that this was very picturesque, and I liked the idea of being active, feeling the wind in my hair (particularly as there was not a helmet to be found - much less common in Europe), and getting outside of the city. The lovely woman at the front desk of "Backpackers Lucerne" suggested the route: just under 20km to Bürgenstock, a small mountain, with a glorious view of the lake. She recommended that I take the funicular up the mountain, and then bike back down. The map she gave me was incredibly vague, but the route seemed simple enough - keep the lake to your left, and follow the signs. Go up the mountain, come back down, and then retrace your steps exactly. Good. 10 degrees Celsius (snow is forecasted for today) and highly overcast, I set out, wearing several layers, and gloves for the first time on my trip.
I had been biking for less than 30 minutes when the chain fell off. There was at least 15 minutes of failed attempts (alternating between cursing at the chain and offering it love), before I finally coaxed it back on, hands and gloves (my hands quickly froze) now completely coated in grease. I also discovered that this so-called "mountain bike" would skid out quite easily on gravel, as I nearly went flying off around the first gravel corner. Realizing that I had to stay on pavement (and so couldn't follow all of the marked trails), and also a bit nervous about the chain situation, the next portion of my ride was truly lovely, through rural areas, cow/goat/sheep bells ringing, and the lake at my side. I am sure that the view without the fog would have been absolutely stunning, but I was happy just to be close to water, with a mysterious haze around everything, and the shadowed coastline on the other side of the lake. And then the chain fell off again, this time on the side of a road with no shoulder. Another 15 minutes (but this time caught on to the bike's ways)...
I eventually did arrive at the foot of Bürgenstock Mountain, and was skeptical about how stunning the view from the top would be, given how grey the day was (and given the fact that there was no one else in sight, and the ticket salesman was asleep at his desk). However, the top of the mountain was not actually in the clouds, so it was possible a trip to the top would be worthwhile, especially given that I had come all this way. I asked in both English and French about the view, but should have learned the word for "fog" in German before setting out, as I was unable to communicate this question to this sweet man that I disturbed from his slumber. So. I decided to venture to the top anyway - why not - and was told that I would have to pay extra to take my bike (funny only because I was literally the only person on the funicular - the bike wasn't exactly taking up space where someone else could be sitting). The sweet Swiss funicular driver took his job quite seriously, systematically opening all of the doors (as though there were several dozen people getting on) and then closing them all, and then we ventured to the top. The view? Complete and utter fog, and now, much colder, of course.
And so, it was time to get off the mountain as quickly as possible. I hadn't really worried about this, as the woman at the front desk of the hostel, who knew all about this faux-mountain bike, had told me I could easily bike down. I imagined there would be a nice and leisurely trail somewhere that was not too steep. Ha. I found the trail - a true mountain bike trail - grass, dirt, gravel, and quite an angle. And then the chain fell off again. I knew immediately that this trail was not an option (unless I walked the bike down it), and so I went back to the road. It seemed innocent enough at first - downhill, but not too steep, and not busy at all, as it wound through farmland, the sounds of cowbells ringing in my ears. Lovely. Before I knew it though, I was on a hairpin bend mountain road - no shoulders, no visibility (for cars, or for me), no helmet, very steep, and very shitty bike with very gimpy chain. Ahem. My options at this point were to walk my bike back up the mountain from whence I had come (just to then turn around and walk it down the mountain bike trail), or just to continue on this way, and hope for the best. I chose the latter, kept my brakes on at all times, definitely feeling the wind in my hair now, and thankful that I was surrounded by Swiss drivers and not Italian ones...
Today, I had breakfast with a lovely couple from Mumbai - Hitakshi works in public health, specifically, tabacco control, and I learned about the way that American and British tabacco companies are targetting rural India and China, now that smoking is on the decline in the Western world. Really interesting. (On another note, the popularity of smoking in Europe is also really interesting to me, though I have become quite used to second-hand smoke after being here for 2 months - European culture as a whole is soo much more health-conscious than North America, especially when it comes to activity level and food choices, and yet smoking is also so much more common here...a bit of a puzzle!) I am hanging out at the library (where there is glorious free internet access) as it is pouring rain, and am hoping to check out the Saturday farmer's market once I am finished here, and possibly also the modern art museum, before I head to Zurich this evening.
And, for those wondering, there wasn't any romance with the Swiss hiking guy. I'm glad to know I left many of you wondering. :) That's not to say there hasn't been any romance on the trip, however; just none of the Swiss variety (not all of the details can get posted on the blog)...
xo
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