For my Pops

Little things that make me laugh

CANDY:
Brand name on washing machine in my apartment
LANDGUT:
Brand name of a bread company specializing in heartier breads
FRAGOLA:
Italian word for strawberry

Does this mean there was a baby floating in this water?

Swissfully Clean

I had Starbuck's last Sunday. I don't know why I feel the need to "confess" everytime I partake in a product from a big American chain. I was in Switzerland at the train station, and Leslie, SwissChris, and I sat down for a drink before I jumped on the train back to Milan. It was my first time in a Starbuck's since leaving America. There are none in Milan, but the only reason I would ever go there over an Italian joint would be if I was feeling homesick and just needed the feeling of a warm disposable cup in my hands. (Also, there's the conversation I'm having with my Italian friends about how there's no place to meet to have a meeting. There are coffee places everywhere, but a place where you can sit down for an extended period with a cup of coffee and a book doesn't exist. Tragic.)

I ordered a Hazelnut hot chocolate. In the land of Swiss Miss there are 4 kinds of hot chocolate on the menu. I guess I shouldn't be surprised...give the people what they want. The hot chocolate was rich and gave me a bellyache and a headache for the majority of the train ride, so much so that I couldn't read "The World is Flat" a book on globalization. Coincidence?

Instead I watched the scenery go by---lush green grass covered with patches of crisp white snow---the sky sunny and blue, the Alps in the distance. Along the rail there are walking trails. I saw Swiss people with winter coats and red noses pushing baby strollers and riding bikes, out enjoying the sunshine. I was jealous.

If I had to pick one word to describe Switzerland, I'd choose "Clean." From the air to the buildings---even the bathroom on the Swiss train was cleaner than any bathroom I've encountered in Milan.

I appreciate the Swiss ideal for cleanliness in their homes and the outdoors. However, I think this idealism can come out in a negative way in many Swiss personalities. There's a tendency to care more about if the house is cleaned the right way than if a guest is taken care of. I kind of look at it as the Martha syndrome over a whole country.

I asked Chris who is planning to propose to Leslie very soon, if his mom likes Leslie. He said, "She likes her, but she doesn't think she's the right one for me because she doesn't clean the Swiss way." I couldn't believe that could be given as a legitimate reason to say she's "not the right one." And for some reason I don't believe this is just an extreme case.

Stopping.

Monday night I was stopped in my tracks. I just arrived home from a lecture about Fashion and Ethics. The topic of fashion and ethics is broad, but this discussion mostly pertained to good work environments for laborers and sustainability in production processes. I'm a huge proponent of both, but lectures like this usually leave me sitting there thinking, "Why am I adding to planned obsolescence...the overconsumerism and waste of society?" Always.

I walked into my room and was still on my kick about consumerism when my parents called. They began, "Tana and Monae already bought flowers and put your name on it. Randy and Danyelle bought flowers..." I sat there in the seconds between that and the real news...waiting for what would come next...I knew that something happened...death, but I was waiting...
"Sue's oldest son shot himself on Friday."
This was not what I expected. I expected to hear of an elderly person passing away.
I couldn't breathe.

I babysat for Matt and his younger brother Josh when I was in junior high. He was only 17 years old, a junior in high school. He was supposed to be measured for his prom tux at my mom's shop that afternoon. No one knows why he did it, and there were no signs leading up to it.

I told my parents I had to get off the phone. There was no making small talk after such an announcement. I had to process. I had to cry.

The next day I kept picturing his big brown eyes. Memories of picking berries from the mulberry bush outside our house, taking them to the swimming pool in summer, and pouring him glasses of 100% Juicy Juice.

I saw him this summer at Tana's reception. It was the first time I'd seen him since he was in early grade school. He seemed shy, more so than when he was a child. He stayed close to his dad and brother while I was talking to Danyelle and his mom. Sue and Danyelle graduated from high school the same year.

As I thought about that day this summer I wondered if I could have said anything to him...wishing I could go back. Then I thought of all the people who must be thinking that same thought, his teachers, friends, and family.

Death always makes us stop in our tracks and question life. Suicide is the worst of all. We can't write it off as "his time to go."
Why? Didn't he know there's so much beyond high school?
Life is not empty.
I don't know what to do with any of this.
I'm praying for healing and strengthening of his family and asking that somehow the Lord be glorified here. Somehow.

School of Skulls

Today I received the following compliment: "You have a very nicely- shaped head." This is the 2nd time I have received this compliment, the other time being about a month ago when my friends Sybille, Maria, and I were talking at a bar. Sybille complimented me on my skull. She had been drinking so I thought maybe it came out wrong, so I turned to Maria tell her it was the oddest compliment I had ever received. Instead Maria agreed with Sybille that having a nicely-shaped skull is very important. At this point I felt like an ancient measure of beauty had been kept secret from me. Maria went on to say that if you look at Hollywood actors, they all have nicely-shaped heads. You won't find a flat-headed person in the bunch. So thank you, Mom and Dad, for this nicely-shaped skull.

Another note: Maria is the queen of quirky compliments. She has also told me that I have "very organized toes." She loves birthmarks...she finds beauty in the most unconventional places. I appreciate this.

ARTificial

For "Trishawna the runner" Milan is a horrible place. There are no parks or green spaces to speak of, when I run I have to stare at the concrete instead of ahead to avoid the dog crapola, and the pollution is so bad that I see many of the occasional cyclists wearing masks (making me wonder about about the safety of my own lungs). All this cumulates to make me miss my Portland a lot, especially considering I had the most amazing running trails out my backdoor and gorgeous day hikes less than 20 minutes outside the city.
The other day I found my favorite spot in Milan. It's this bridge that's painted the most brilliant shade of green. As I crossed I stopped and took in the moment. Milan, you may not have any green grass, but atleast you have this. I'll take what I can get. (This weekend I'm going to Switzerland!)

Decaffeinated...sorta

I've been asked by a reader, let's call him "Jared", to share more about my experiences here. From what I gather he is asking me for a little more depth in my entries. Well, there are 3 parts to my life here: 1) school, 2) cultural experiences & travel, and 3) my inner life. I have shared about the first two. Here's a story from the 3rd.

The other day the French press broke. I had finished making a pot of coffee, poured a cup in my cutesie mug (see photo left), and set the press back down. Two seconds later two pieces of glass came shooting through the air.

One is supposed to heat the container with warm water before pouring the boiling water in, but I didn’t do it that day. I haven’t done it a few times, and nothing has happened. It was odd, though, it burst about 5 minutes after I poured the water in and even after I poured a cup of coffee.

As I stood there at the kitchen counter in shock, I remembered that Lent has begun. I wondered about the Lord…coffee is in my top three worldly obsessions (following closely after boys and clothes). I was praying prior to lent about what the Lord wanted me to sacrifice this year. Coffee has been the thing that I've been convicted to give up the last two years, but I have never done it fully.

I never considered giving up anything for lent until I moved to Oregon. I had always viewed it as a Catholic ritual, one that I rarely saw come from the heart. I recall friends giving up chocolate or pop and not even knowing why they were doing it, or worse yet, as a 40-day diet plan sponsored and monitored by the church.

In Oregon I was surrounded by Christians who were sacrificing for Lent for the right reasons, and the idea began to make sense for me. I was convicted to give up coffee the first year, but I fought it. I shrugged off the conviction for the comfort of a morning ritual. Pretty sad, actually, that I wouldn't sacrifice that little thing for the Lord.

So with a burst of the French Press, this Lenten season has begun. I'm not claiming that God broke my coffee maker as a reminder. But I did ask Him what to give up and then forgotten to note the beginning of Lent. So I decided resolutely to give it up this year.

I suppose I'll wait until after Easter to buy another French Press. For now I'm on Earl Grey. There's beauty in the sacrifice, a direct correlation with the Sacrifice of Jesus, that's a reminder for me every morning as I pour a cup of tea instead of coffee.