Switzerland

My first experience driving through a country border blew me away. Marius, dear brother from the outdoor leadership course at Sonshine Ranch, came to pick me up somewhere in Southern Germany and drove me with pride over a bridge into his country of Switzerland. I was extremely excited seeing all the flags, and simply driving from one road to the next, and suddenly knowing that I was in a new country.

It was great to see him again, as we'd become great friends during the course, and our subsequent North Island road trip, and it was particularly difficult to say goodbye to him when he left NZ. I remember being at the ranch right after he'd flown out, and I went into his room and cried heavy, sobbing tears. It was painful becoming so close with someone, and having them leave, knowing that the chapter we'd just shared would never happen again.

It had been more than a year since I'd seen him, so we had a lot to catch up on, and it was amazing to see him in his home world. I reunited with one of his friends, Felix, who I'd met in NZ briefly. Staying with Marius consisted of a lot of boys time, hanging out with him and his buddies. I loved it.
We went up a lookout over the "Three Land Corner", where the borders of France, Germany and Switzerland meet.
One night we drove for 5 minutes to go and get McDonalds in Germany as it was cheaper than Switzerland. That was a new experience for me. Hop to another country just like that.

After a lovely time visiting Marius in Basel, I hopped on to a train for another new and even slightly weirder experience. To cross what felt like a border, in language, architecture, signage, whilst staying in the same country. I was bound for Vevey, on the lake of Geneva, in the French part of Switzerland. Here I met with Dylan. Dylan, the half Swiss, half kiwi surfer boy I'd met at Matata Beach on my road trip with Marius and Sara.

The boy I'd looked at when we rolled into the campsite there at golden hour, as he sat smoking in a camping chair outside his van, shirtless and wearing sunglasses, hair long and tousled, funny little beard on his chin. We'd struck up conversation as I'd gone to the beach to photograph the sunset, and as I'd pulled the camera back from my face, he was standing beside me. He intrigued me so much.
We'd spent some time chatting that evening, and stayed in touch long enough for me to now be visiting him in his home world.

I arrived at the ornate train station in Vevey, truly feeling like I was in France, and his message advised me to meet him at the fork, on the lake. This confused me but he assured me it was very noticeable. Sure enough, a giant silver fork stood in the shallows on the lake, and I met Dylan there in the afternoon light. This lake was glorious, bright blue, skirted by glorious mountains. His friends were all lovely, and very intimidating. Very cool bunch of people. As I compare my time in Basel with my time in Vevey, I'm struck by how little I remember of Basel, and how much more vivid my recollections of Vevey are.

Dylan's house vibe was very cool, it was interesting to hear French spoken for the first time, and I observed and enjoyed the atmosphere a lot.
There's one moment I'll never forget.
I'd noticed something lovely at the dinner table, and afterwards as Dylan and I stood at the balcony watching the late summer sun setting, I mentioned it to him. It was how beautiful I found it that he and his friends were so loving and affectionate with one another. Especially with his male friends. I shared that I grew up in an environment that wasn't overly affectionate.
Apparently he hadn't either. But he had made the decision to be different. I admired this, and held onto it closely as I went on the inner journeys of my travels. Healing from childhood and adolescence, shaping who I wanted to come, in spite of what I'd come from.

One day I took Dylan's longboard that he offered me to use, and skated along the lakeside path, all the way to the next village of Montreaux. I had never before, and have not since, longboarded such a distance. It was quite the adventure.
I passed by a lot of buskers, people playing accordians and wind instruments. I said bonjour as much as I could.
I lost control and the longboard went flying under a car, much to the passenger's surprise and dismay. I said sorry profusely, in a French accent, whilst also laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

Upon arriving in Montreaux, I found a jetty to sit at the end of, and soak up the mountains, the glorious lake. Here I met a lovely Australian couple, Tegan and Danny, for the first time. They took my picture for me. I so enjoyed the ease of being around Australians. The sense of humour, the things we know being from that part of the world. It felt comforting to meet them and get along so effortlessly straight away.

Time with Dylan consisted of good chats, good food, and good music. I was still relatively shy, and a little timid in his world. But I enjoyed it deeply, and was grateful to have gotten to know this friend more.

The next train I boarded took me to the other side of Switzerland, back into Schweitzer-Deutsch territory, to a small farm town called Bischofszell. Sara, the other Swissie from my outdoor course, lived here on her family's sheep farm, and I was so excited to see her again. We'd also become so close during the course, she felt like a sister to me.
She picked me up, and when I told her I'd just been at Dylan's, she told me I was crazy.
It's been 8 years since that time, and Dylan is the only one still in my life... So interesting to think about.

The time with Sara was splendid, but challenging in new ways. Her family was incredibly warm and welcoming, and very tight-knit. Parents, two brothers, two sisters, all very close and Christian, kind of an intense unit to enter into. I helped out on the farm, and got to ride Sara's Paso Finos. They had somewhat excessive tack that I wasn’t used to, but the trails were gorgeous and we took the horses into the river.

I couldn't get over how these people ate. There was a plastic sheet over the table, they didn't use plates for breakfast, and every day was a freshly baked loaf of Swiss bread, which they'd top with slabs of butter, going through a pound every day. They were big people with big days and big appetites.

My German was still very much in infancy, with a solid foundation from a year of study in school, but nothing to lean on yet as a form of communication. But Sara's family tended to act as if I understood everything. Surely, right? This incredibly difficult dialect of German, of all things.
The unexpected challenge came in the form of getting a kind of sick I hadn't been before, and finding myself deeply triggered in the family environment, not knowing how to ask for help.
I had my first UTI, from a sexual encounter with another old character from the Ranch days who I'd had a massive crush on and met up with in Stuttgart. He turned out to be an asshole. No wonder I had an infection.

So physically I was feeling pretty awful, and besides that, I felt incredibly uncomfortable being this outsider in a family that was so tight-knit, especially as my family had crumbled apart in the last years. It was hard for me not to just want to curl up and disappear. Finally I managed to confide in Sara, and she helped me feel so assured of my being welcome, even if my family had ceased to be a safe place for me, her family was very happy to have me be a part of it. She took me to the doctor, who spoke very poor but amusing English, and I was on the mend, and felt like another little piece of the puzzle had landed for me. That I could find belonging and acceptance outside of my family, and that I'd be ok.

Sara and I went to St Gallen music festival with some friends of hers, which was incredibly muddy and full of people. But we saw Mumford and Sons which was fantastic.
One night we went to a local yodelling festival which was like nothing I'd ever seen in my life. Men standing around wine barrels slowly and then all at once breaking into yodels, which resounded and spread to the nearby tables as the yodels got louder, building to a crescendo before seemingly all at once ending, the talking resuming.
There was a fireworks show over a lake, timed with classical music, that was quite spectacular.

I was struck by how the farmers fed their cattle. They were in barns, and we'd go out to the lush paddock, which had no fences, and cut enough grass to bring to the animals. Such a far cry from the grazing we see in NZ.
I remember Sara's sister teaching me the word 'selbst-verteidigung' (self-defence) as we walked in the paddock together, bridging our language barrier with laughter and playfulness.

The time with Sara and her boisterous family was wonderful for my soul. I ate far too much food, but felt nourished and loved, uplifted by them and their wholesome way of life, and connection to their community. It was a good life they lived.

As beautiful as Switzerland was, it was horrifically expensive, so having seen my good friends, it was time to head back to Germany for the next adventures.もっと詳しく