Geneva and me - 1 year anniversary.

Well, it's been 4 months since my last update, so I figured it might be time for another one. It is now also a year since I moved to Geneva. Time goes so fast, yet at the same time so slowly. My first months here seem like forever ago. And a lot has happened in a year. I don't feel like a visitor anymore - I now regard it as my home, although I know that it's a temporary one. The comfort of feeling at home is therefor blurred by a hint of sadness. I know that the more I start to befriend this place, the harder it will be to have to move back.
When you live in a place for longer than a couple of months the way that you perceive it also changes. The things I found fascinating in the beginning have become ordinary to me. And the things that I found difficult are now easier. The only things that I haven't gotten used to are the smoky bars and cafés and the bloody annoying traffic lights that will delay your journey to wherever you're going with at least 5 minutes per kilometer. Oh, and the conservative, culture-hating politicians who are trying to close down every squat and art studio in the entire town. And the fact that Swiss people very rarely know any English. There are sad and upsetting aspects to this strange place. But there are also nice ones. Like all the friendly people I've met during this year - of which very few are actually Swiss. I've met people from basically all over the world and made some really good friends. And I have become extremely spoiled with chocolate and cheese. And wine. Only the best is good enough for me nowadays.

Going back to Sweden for christmas in a few days though, which I'm really looking forward to. Good old Sweden.

why have they made all the clothes smaller?

Went to buy clothes in H&M today (still haven't found any better options for buying clothes in Geneva. God I miss Stockholm!) which is usually a very soothing and enjoyable activity until the part where the clothes actually have to go on the body to see if they fit. This is generally the part where the meditative mood that clothes shopping can set you in ends and the "oh my god I'm so fat"-ness begins. This is usually true in all shops apart from in my favourite Stockholm clothes supplier Beyond retro, where they appear to have magical mirrors where everything you try on looks great on you, and even if the item you're trying on is too tight, it still somehow doesn't make you look fat!

Well, it's become even less fun since they decided to make all the clothes sizes one size smaller. This seems to have happened since I moved to Switzerland, which is 9 months ago now. Coincidentally, all the clothes in my wardrobe have shrunk as well! What are the odds of that?! Perhaps it's the hot and humid air down here that's made it. I'm sure there's a logical explanation to this that doesn't involve cheese, wine or chocolate.

Too hot.

Another steaming hot day. A bit too hot to be enjoyable in my opinion, still I was wearing skirt and t-shirt. Passed a muslim woman who was wearing JEANS underneath her long, black veil. She didn't even appear to be sweaty or uncomfortable! How do they do it? Are they resistant to heat? On a day like today, I'm glad I'm a non believer. I say that now; maybe the boiling under a burka will pay off later.
The evenings are usually quite nice though, up until the point when it's bed time. It's virtually impossible to sleep when it exceeds 25 degrees in the bedroom. It's been a bit breezy tonight though, so I'm hoping I won't be kept awake by the discomfort of hot, dry feet again tonight. I'm going to bed in a minute, so we'll see what happens. Last night's attempt to battle insomnia by staying up all night didn't turn out to be very fruitful. So I'm back at the more traditional way of trying to fall asleep by going to bed. Hope the skippy children in the flat above will do the same.

As I walked through Paquis...

I walked through Paquis today, which is something I don't do very often since I don't live around that area, and because there's nothing specific that draws me there.
Paquis is known for a number of things: the numerous Asian and Middle eastern restaurants, the water pipe bars, the number of hotels and last but not least the red light district.

The red light district is remarkably extensive, active and thriving for a city of Geneva's size (about 300 000 inhabitants if I'm not wrong). And it doesn't exactly take a genius to figure out why... The hookers and strippers of Geneva have the UN, the banking industry and well, the business world, to thank for their busy careers. I've never seen quite so many banks anywhere else where I've been, and I've never seen quite so many middle aged men in suits in the same place before. It's logical that there will be numerous sex clubs where you find a large number of men in suits on business trips.
Still, the openness of it and the extensiveness amazes me! I think that it actually amazes me more than it upsets me, even though I do find it sad and upsetting to witness this trade of human dignity.
As I walked through Paquis today I deliberately chose the streets with the most women-standing-in-doorways-and-outside-sex clubs, because they fascinate me, and if I'd dared to I'd just stand there and stare at them until I got fed up with it. But hey, I don't want to be rude.
I've seen it at night, which is hardly surprising, although I still find it strangely fascinating.
But this time it was 2 pm, sunshine and boiling hot. And the girls were still there, dressed down, made up and ready to go back inside for a hand full of cash. I don't know what I find most fascinating in this situation - the fact that some men actually find the time, the nerve and most of all the drive to go fucking during their lunch break in 30 degree heat and broad daylight (especially considering the fact that they're wearing suits), or the fact that someone would consider wearing a black latex dress during the hottest hours of the day in this weather! I frankly hadn't expected to see prostitution so openly displayed on the way back from my lunch meeting!
I did my best to observe the women-on-display as thoroughly as I could as I past them, thinking that they wouldn't be able to tell that I was staring so obsessively at them since I was wearing sun glasses. They probably wouldn't care, but it would make me feel stupid.
I wanted to see if I could trace pain and disillusion from the look in their eyes or from some other give away. But I couldn't. Not that I went up to them that closely. I would like to know what they really feel though, why they do it; if it affects them as strongly as I think it does. One of the girls I saw looked really young, still a teenager I assume. Not only that, but she also looked kind of unspoiled and tidy, like she was in completely the wrong environment. She was wearing some tight and slutty outfit, and looked a bit insecure like it was the first day at work, smiling and giggling at the girl next to her, trying to copy her posture. It made me sad to watch her, but also extremely interested in knowing more about her decision. If I'd been brave/drunk/insane enough I'd go up to her and ask. But I'm a sane coward and had pepsi max with my lunch.

FGM - probably none of your business

I'm involved with the very difficult task of trying to arrange an art exhibition to raise money for an organisation that works actively to try and stop the huge problem that Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) is in Africa.
This is difficult not only because it's hard to find companies that want to support our initiative financially (FGM has got the word GENITAL in it, which does apparently not appeal to most Swiss companies. Starvation is for example a much nicer problem.), but it's also proved to be hard to find good artists that want to participate in the exhibition.

In a fantasy world, all artists would jump at the opportunity to use their art in a way that might actually be useful for someone else, like in this case helping to prevent the life long pain and suffering of circumcised African women . But that's in a fantasy world. In reality, most artists care more about their own name and that their art gets appropriate lighting and space. Yeack. I hurl just at the thought of the art school graduate who turned down our offer to let him participate in our exhibition because 'the space wasn't big enough, the light might not do his art works justice', plus he was worried that the other artists would not be well known/good enough! Christ, he should have been honored that we even considered him!

I have myself both studied art history and gone to art school, and have frequently been presented with the impossible question 'what is art'. There are of course an infinite number of possible answers to that question, all of which are equally true/false. A related problem though, which I find less impossible to find an explanation to, is that of 'what constitutes a good artist?'. Of course, training, creativity, hard work and a natural artistic talent comes in to it. But for me, curiosity, openness, bravery and a will to explore is equally important. Boring art is never good. And artists who are too busy staring at their own belly buttons to care about what is going on around them will have difficulties producing art that is actually interesting enough to be worth looking at. Unless he/she turns out to be an artistic genius of course, but what are the odds of that?

A couple of days ago I went to the exhibition of a young artist I know, and since both me and my college who I'd brought to his exhibition found his art interesting, we told him about our project and informed him a bit about FGM. His immediate response was 'Ok that's enough, I don't want to hear any more about it, it's too horrible'.
At that moment it struck me that I had reacted in exactly the same way when I first saw a documentary about this at my friend Ellen's place. The intrusion of such terrible facts and pictures into my mind was too overwhelming, and most of all I just wanted the facts and the pictures to go away. But at the same time, I obviously knew that the facts wouldn't change justs because I chose to block it out.
That is what made me not look away as I watched a whole village perform a circumcision without anesthetics and with a dirty needle on a terrified little girl who had stopped screaming because of the overwhelming pain and horror. And it was because of that reaction of wanting to look away that I decided that I need to participate in this project, and that I need to do my very best to try and make others see it as well without looking away. It sometimes takes some painful realisations to make people react.


And I guess that it wasn't until my artist friend explicitly addressed his desire to ignore the problem that I realised just how fine the line between ignorance and trying to make a difference actually is. And that ignorance can actually be a result of caring so much that the problem becomes unbearable, and trying to forget about it becomes a necessity. And perhaps this phenomenon is even more dangerous than ignoring because you really don't give a shit, because it prevents people who could actually make a difference from doing so. And this is why it's so important to force these people to see what they don't want to see; because eventually they won't be able to stand it anymore, and will hopefully try and fight the problem instead of ignoring it.

Shortly after he had expressed his will to ignore the existence of FGM I asked this young artist if he'd be willing to participate in our 'artists united against FGM' exhibition. He replied "Well, it's such a difficult subject... so yes, I'd definitely be interested."



Links: http://www.artistsunited.org/Welcome.html
http://iac-ciaf.com/

Holidays!

Holidays are the best. Been on them for a while now and could probably stay away from every day life for a while longer. Have got two more days. Love being a tourist in a city where I used to live. No obligations, just potential fun and irresponsible behaviour. Not that I used to be exactly responsible. Or irresponsible. Well, I guess it's just different. Mostly the same activities but in a different environment. A different environ that used to be my home but which is not anymore.

No rain thanks, I've already had some.

The weather is great today. Yay! And it will continue to be nice over the weekend. And probably for the following week. Every day until the 29th. Because that is when we return from England. This is just my luck: I'm leaving for London tomorrow. Thought that I would check out the forecast just to make sure that it won't be raining. And of course it will. It will be pouring down. Maximum temperature of 17 degrees. Geneva will have a maximum temperature of 29 degrees on Sunday. According to our London-friends, the weather's been great until now. Or rather: until tomorrow. And now I am accused of "bringing rain". Will also bring Swiss chocolate biscuits to make up for it though. See if it works. At least, the chocolate won't melt.

Going to Sweden in July. Expect the same thing to happen then.

la langue francaise est tres difficile

I'm reading a French play script at the moment. I have to ,because I'm going to design the set for it. Surprisingly, I'm not using my dictionary very much. Mainly because it slows down the process. I am amazed by how well it's going, and can't stop wondering where all those words that I apparently know are hiding when I try to use them in speech? And a more important question is: how do I make them move from that place to my mouth?
I want to be able to speak French, I really do. I hate the humiliation of being told to phone back another time when there's someone who can speak a few words of English around. It happens all too often. Or having to reply 'je ne comprends pas' when someone I don't know tries to start a conversation with me in the street or in the lift (that actually happens here). Not speaking very good French in Geneva really is a handicap. Hardly anyone speaks English. And yet I am too lazy to learn this language properly.
My recent discovery - that I actually have a much larger vocabulary than I was aware of - is because of this rather surprising to me. The fact that I have it also means that I should somehow try to use it I suppose. Or at least that I could.

Sex and the city: the movie. Yes, I watched it.

I watched Sex and the city: the movie last night. And I loved it. I don't see myself as a very girly person; I can't walk in high heeled shoes, I seriously don't give a shit about designer clothes and even find most designer handbags provokingly ugly and an unbelievable waste of money. I do not drink cocktails in fancy bars with my girlfriends while discussing details about my love life; I'd much rather go watch bands in filthy rock clubs.
Yet there is something about Sex and the city that I just love. I usually detest romantic comedies and other traditionally girly films. And if it wasn't for the fact that I'd been watching the TV-show, going to see the movie would probably never have crossed my mind.
But since I did, the thought of getting two more hours with Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda was too tempting to resist. Partly because it offers two hours of a lifestyle that I perhaps secretly envy, but also because I get to experience what it's like to be part of their little group of friends. Because more than anything, it is a film about the love between women, of friendships that survive relationship after relationship and that only grow stronger through time. And honestly, I envy that friendship more than I envy their fancy apartments or their designer clothes.

Carrie Bradshaw - glamorous even in pyjamas

I can't stop wondering though: how the hell can Carrie afford that fancy of lifestyle, being a writer in New York? How can she possibly make enough money to buy Louis Vuitton handbags, Manolo Blanik shoes etc, wear exclusively designer clothes, redecorate her Manhattan apartment and still have money left to hire a PA and hang around in posh bars, sipping cocktails?

topless dudes on the bus - ban them!

The sun has suddenly appeared! Or should I say reappeared, because I do have vague memories of a time before the grey clouds made their entry on the Swiss sky, a time not too long ago when sunglasses were my main acessory and not umbrellas. I remember the consumption of rosé at the outside tables of cafés and the seaking shelter in the shade in order not to expose my skin to the dangerous uv rays.
Well, that time is here again! And I can't wait to do all those things I wanted to do but couldn't when the rain poured down. Like hang around in parks, go jogging in the morning, discover Geneva's outdoors cafés, have picnics, go for nice evening walks... and maybe, maybe go swimming in the lake. Although I know that the biggest change will be the bad conscience as I waste the day inside instead of going out to do all those things I listed above. As much as I hate bad weather, at least it provides me with a good reason to stay inside and read. I will make a proper effort to spend as much time as I can outside this year, though. I'm in a foreign country after all, and there are things to see and places to discover that I don't want to miss!

And as I do go outside, I will most likely try to avoid using public transport, because that is one of the real drawbacks about warm weather: body odour on the bus/tram/tube! Worst of all are of course the topless guys who use great weather as an excuse to wander around half naked and sweaty. Yes, we know that you don't have breasts, we know that there is nothing sexually arousing about a man's chest and belly (well, in most cases anyway), which apparently makes it socially acceptable to show off your torso anywhere, anytime. Well, if I set the rules for socially acceptable behaviour, there would be no more topless dudes on the bus! Why? Because men sweat, generally more than women, and some seem to bother less with things like personal hygiene. Still these guys think it's ok to let their b.o free instead of trying to hide it with clothes. And no, it doesn't get any less hot because you stop wearing clothes; a loose shirt has a much more cooling effect than the absence of one. I personally find having to be exposed to the sometimes unbearable odour of a sweaty male torso on a bus much more provoking than seeing a pair of naked breasts in a public place. Yet, a woman can't even visit a public swimming pool without wearing a bikini top or she'll be thrown out of the premises (yes, it happened to two girls in Stockholm last summer).
Strangely, it's usually ok for a woman to be topless as long as she's sun bathing. This doesn't always have to involve lying on a beach even; no, you can't even pass a patch of grass in Stockholm in the summer without stumbling over a pair of breasts. As long as they're horizontal, no one seems to mind. If one of these topless women should leave their patch of grass in the same topless state, the toplessnes is no longer socially acceptable and her breasts suddenly become provoking. No logic there if you ask me, but everyone seems to be aware of these rules, because you very rarely see a topless woman on a bus.
Of course, I haven't seen so much of the Swiss summer yet; maybe things are different here...


provoking or just smelly?

Are there really any people left in Portugal?

How can there be 20000000 portugueses in Geneva? Portugal is a small country. Do they all move to Switzerland? It's not until just recently, one week before the European cup started to be more precise, that I realised just how how big the Portuguese community really is. And they all seem to possess at least one Portuguese flag each, which they proudly display from their balconies/windows/backs.
It was with aw that I, a couple of days ago, spotted the by now all too familiar green and red flag hanging from not only the balcony next door, but also the one above ours. It is the European cup and I am surrounded by portuguese football supporters! To make matters worse: the Portuguese team is playing two of their matches here in Geneva! Ironically, these are the ONLY matches to take place here, as far as I know. I'm hoping that, should there be any Portuguese people left in Portugal, they won't all come to our house during the following week.

Neighbours - what are they good for?

We have the most excellent view from our apartment. Or maybe not so much excellent as ugly. Let's just say that we didn't get to live on the side with the alp-view. We got the side with windows facing towards another building. One that is significantly uglier than the ours. So even though, when I see it from the outside, I can be pleased about the fact that I don't live in the trashy grey house opposite, but in fact in the much nicer mustard coloured one, our opposite neighbours are in a way the winners here, since they have a much nicer view than us. Tidy balconies full of plants and predominantly non-white-trash tennants.

I don't mind starring into another building so much though, since I like spying on people. So when we first moved in, I was actually a bit pleased with having such a great opportunity to observe the lives of our swiss neighbours. My very first observation, only minutes after we'd moved in, was an old, fat, topless dude, who had taken a seat right in front of the window, and just as I turned my head to check out the view, he got up from his chair to show off is naked torso properly. All of it. This was my first meeting with the opposite neighbours, and turned out not to be a bad introduction at all. In fact, fat and middle aged seems to be a rule rather than an exception in that house. That is a fact that I find highly fascinating. Perhaps it is a result of the careful choosing process of the house owners here in Geneva. Somehow, the tenants in that building seem to match the architecture and its fading exterior so extraordinarily well.

The thing that annoys me most now is that 80% of them close their window shutters as soon as they come home from work. Cowards.

Healthy living v alcohol and cigarettes

My ambition for the past weekend was to have a great time without alcohol, coffee, cheese, or chocolate. After last weekend's ATP + London trip, i figured that was just what I needed.
It worked remarkably well, thanks to great location and beautiful scenery. Nothing can inspire a healthy lifestyle more than a trip to the French alps or a visit to the botanical garden. I did both.

French alpine landscape was great. It looked like this:


And sounded like this:




Makes you want to indulge in spring water and raw vegetables, doesn't it?


Went to Botanical garden yesterday, and saw a small boy ride a gigantic ant. Freaky.




Anyway, like I said: it went remarkably well. Until yesterday evening, when a friend called and announced that she'd just been dumped by the love of her life. She was obviously devastated, but found a certain amount of comfort in the fact that she'd found a way to 'deal with the situation'. This way of dealing turned out to involve drinking a lot of wine and starting to smoke (also considering smoking weed). The reason for this being that the boy who crushed her heart is in AA, and can do none of the above...

So, what to do? Naturally, I told her to come over. When she said that she was going to bring a bottle of wine, I couldn't really tell her 'sorry, but I'm not drinking this weekend', especially since that is something her ex would have said. So, hence, my healthy week and a half (this is for how long I had planned to avoid alcohol) had come to an abrupt ending after almost 5 days.
It turned out that the smoking thing was a serious and carefully planned idea. She'd bought a pack of cigarettes on the way, as well as a lighter. So last night I witnessed her having her first ever cigarette. In order to guide and accompany her, Matt and I shared one too. This was the first time I'd touched a cigarette in about two years (gave up being a social smoker 4 years ago). Unfortunately, I enjoyed it much more than I wanted to.
Not sure that the drinking or the smoking will help her feeling better, but being self destructive is sometimes a great pass time.

And I don't know if it's because of the alpine air, the healthy food, the walking, the pints of water and the 9 h of sleep a night, or if it's because of the wine and cigarettes, but I'm feeling remarkably refreshed and energetic today.

Blogging again! Yay!

So, I decided to start blogging again. Or rather, I'm making another attempt at starting a blog. 2 posts does is more like an attempt than an actual blog. So this is my third.
Writing anything in more than 140 characters could prove difficult nowadays though, now that Twitter has made an entrance into my life. Wonder how long it will take before people actually start talking in the same confined way. Like 'stay home because ill' or something. It would be so much easier to learn new languages! Like French.