Genève Enneigé

Snow on the Saleve (my mountain) and Geneva.

A day or two after the first big snowfall, a biting wind (called la Bise) swooped down on Geneva and blew fiercely for 2 or 3 days. My bus shook slightly back and forth on the bridge, and I cringed for the few pedestrians that were struggling to walk across. Walking to school from my tram stop was an adventure and watching the waves crash against the retaining walls was impressive as well. On Wednesday morning, the wind was so bad that it broke the metal latch that would usually keep the double-doors facing the lake in my classrom shut. We had to have class up stairs, where I got some more pictures of the crashing waves. Compare this with a calm, warmer day back in October.

This was also bad news for many of the folks who had their boats docked in the harbour. Some of them, heavy with ice and battered by the waves and wind, sunk or were damaged. Here's one pushed ashore.

Wednesday night, as my friend Joao was driving me home, we heard on the radio that the weather station up on the Juras registered gusts as high as 170km/hr (109mph)! I imagine our worst gusts didn't go beyond 45 mph, but the wind was bitterly cold and constant for those few days.

Snowstorm

Since last Saturday night, Geneva, most of Switzerland, lots of France, Europe in general, and--I read today--even Algeria have been through some spectacular winter weather.

I awoke early Sunday morning and was dimly thinking about heading back to sleep when I pulled up the blinds and saw thick flakes falling and everything covered in snow. The sun wasn't up yet (it actually doesn't even technically break over Mont Saleve until 10am anyway--I literally live in the shadow of the mountain), but I hurried out to survey the snowscape.

I decided to walk along my favorite route to Sierne, where the vineyards, Arve river and woodlands all converge into Swiss bliss. I was the first to tromp through the snow and crunched along the vineyards, past the Jewish cemetery, and along the Arve to the Sierne mansions.



The serenity of snow sent me in silence to my second-favorite church. I slowly walked up the wide path and then stopped to admire the scene.

From there, a short trek back up to 29 Place de l'Eglise, my cozy little Swiss home.

Snowshoeing in the Jura Mountains

Friday I went to a "Bal des Rois", the post-Christmas celebration of the wise men's arrival to give their gifts to baby Jesus. Everyone eats the "galette de roi" (king cake, for all you Mardi Gras fans) that has a trinket hidden somewhere inside. Whoever gets the trinket is the queen (or king) for the day and gets to chose their king (or queen). Unfortunately for me, even after chomping through 5 promising pieces, I still hadn't found one of those sneaky trinkets! Oh well. Even more unfortunate was that I partied just a few minutes too late to catch the last bus home. Err! Had I only found that blasted trinket and gotten the accompanying crown, I could have easily made a decree that all BMW taxis would be obliged to give free rides to royalty between midnight and 1am that night. Instead, I got to walk 2.5 km through some dense fog. At least I had plenty of energy from all that cake! : )

Saturday morning I caught one of the first buses from Veyrier-Douane and went to Gare Cornavin. I was a few minutes early for the train to Coppet, so I went back down the Rue des Alpes to the lakefront to admire Geneva and its environs in the morning light. I caught the train and then watched the sunrise from the station in Coppet.

My friend Sylvain picked me up in his Aunt's Twingo (a fun little French car) to go for a warm-up hike up a prominent hill just outside of Divonne while we waited for his uncle Jacques. From the summit we could see the Juras and Sylvain pointed out to me where we'd be going (we drove up the road on the right and on the backside of the mountain hiked from about where the tower is to about the center of the picture).

We hiked back down, drove to his Aunt and Uncle's place and then Jacques drove us on up through Gex to the ski lodge Faucille where we rented our snowshoes. We struck out through the brightly-clad skier crowd and then on up into the wilderness. The alpine forest was beautiful. After crunching along the top of the snow for some time, we came out of the forest and went up to the ridge. From there we could look out over the valley and beyond to the Alps. If you want to get a more precise though bland conception of where we were geographically, here's a map.


Sylvain and Jacques looking out from atop the Juras.

We took a little break on a patch of dry grass and had some clementine oranges and fig cookies. Then we continued along the ridge and further away from the ski station. Looking the opposite direction, I saw a few hamlets and the mountain forests. Apparently much of this area is pasture for cows in the warmer months.

The weather was idyllic: cloudless blue skies, effulgent sun, and an occassional gust of cool clean air to fill our lungs. While waiting for me to take another picture, Sylvain and his uncle counted the jet-plane contrails in the clear sky.

A bit further, at another abandoned farm, we turned around and headed back to the ski lodge. Jacques cruised ahead (he does this kind of thing all the time and is in excellent shape) and Sylvain and I trudged back chatting about our classes, European football, American music, and how language limits our thoughts. What a great day!

I took the train and then the bus home, had a bite to eat, and then made a courageous effort to attack my readings for class. After dueling with the same paragraph for the umpteenth time, I finally surrendered to fatigue and promptly conked out on my bed.

Mary and Matthew's Wedding!

I hopped on the TGV from Geneva to Paris (3h22) on the afternoon of the 24th. My friend Sylvain and his girlfriend, Cecile, met me in Paris and took me out to his place for a grand Christmas Eve dinner. After a phone call or two on our way there, I realized that the entire family (including grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins) were all waiting for me to start their feast. How kind!

After raw oysters, smoked salmon, roast duck, sundry stout-smelling-but-tasty cheeses with bread, the "bouche de noel" (Christmas cake), pastries, chocolates, and tea, we all settled down for a long winter's nap (at 3 am). I caught my transatlantic flight Christmas day, in the early afternoon, and, thanks to the time change and in spite of a delay or two, arrived in Salt Lake City around 1am that night.

It was a joy to see Sarah, Danny, and Nathan (siblings) at the airport and after joking about the biohazard boxes on the luggage conveyor belt, we drove to Cherry and Barnard Silver's (he's the cousin of my mom's father) place.

We all went to see my dad's parents at the nursing home. Here's two adorable nephews (Ethan, Jonathan) and their parents (Nathan, Becky). Jonathan's older brother, Matthew, was enamored with the train circling the Christmas tree.

Mary and Erin played some Christmas music for us. Lydia (Ethan's older sister) cracked Mary up with her interpretative dancing to the music. So Mary let Lydia have a try.

From there we headed to my Uncle Tom and Aunt Diane's place. I think I was a little loopy from jet-lag still, but started feeling better around this time. I hope to visit their daughter, Melanie, who is living in Germany.


Mary (my sister) and Matthew Lampros

The morning of the 29th I had the joy of attending my sister's wedding ceremony in the Salt Lake City Temple. Lydia and Matthew (the nephew) posed for me while we waited for Mary and her husband Matthew to come out for pictures. Mary emerged, ebullient and all smiles. The newlyweds took their place on the steps of the temple and the paparazzi--including me, of course--snapped away.

Here's the new couple with my family. Another with the Lampros family. Another portrait. Mary is wearing my grandmother's beautiful wedding dress. Another portrait. Here they are "coming back down to earth".

Afterwards, we had the reception with Matthew's signature chili, Natchitoches meatpies, and wedding cake. Yum!