Another mountain lake and the, in this case, lucky occurrence of being woken up early by a busy road and construction site right next to where I had bunked for the night.
Lake Lucerne was majestic just after sunrise.
Crisp, cold air which demanded several layers of clothing. But each breath was invigorating. And nature’s color palette was a feast for the eyes. Soft edges at first. Then everything transformed, becoming crisper and clearer as the morning progressed.
As for the sunset… not bad… Not bad at all, either. Stood there with a glass of white wine in my hand, closing my eyes every so often to commit the magical moment to memory. Do you do that sometimes, too? Close your eyes when faced with something you never want to forget, so as to take a photograph with your soul? The eyelids become the shutters of your internal camera. And in that swift moment of closing your eyes, going inwards, you take a picture for eternity.
During 18 years of living in Switzerland, off and on, I didn’t explore much of the Swiss mountains. Essentially, I am not a mountain person, but rather love wide open spaces. I tend to get a bit claustrophobic in the mountains, between those high walls rising up all around me.
However, last year’s 1-month hike along the Swiss Jura trail and afterwards another month through several French mountain chains has highlighted the beauty of those mountain regions.
For this, my 3rd stint in Switzerland, the goal is to see more of this country’s beauty and explore far more.
A few days ago, I spent a couple days in Flims and was enchanted by Lake Cauma. In parts, the myriad shades of turquoise were almost as inviting as a tropical lagoon.
A friend and I spent a while just sitting there, at the water’s edge, gazing out over the lake, enjoying a rare moment of utter peace.
It’s been eight months now since I came back to Zurich. A place which has been my home two times before already. All in all, this is my 19th year here. It is more home than any other place on Earth, and yet I struggle to relax into it.
Over the last thirty years, I’ve grown and learned in so many places around the world. Besides Switzerland, I’ve lived and worked in the US, Germany, Maldives, Belgium, Macau, Hong Kong, Canada, Malta, France, and the Caribbean.
Of all those places, I guess I miss Macau the most. Its climate, its culture, its people, and its food. And, with it, also my intensive life there working for large-scale circus and stunt shows.
In the spring of 2020, my greatest dream almost came true. After 11 years of working backstage and a good 5 years of applying for every stage management job Cirque du Soleil advertised, I was finally interviewed by them. For Nysa, their coming resident show in Berlin.
I got through the first interview ok, was shortlisted and invited for a second interview.
Then, just 3 days before this second interview and just before a very real chance to finally work for the company I had dreamed about ever since I was 21 years old and experienced them for the first time (in 1992), all Cirque du Soleil shows around the world were shut down due to Covid19. All interviews were cancelled as well.
Now, Cirque du Soleil shows are slowly reopening. But Nysa has been cancelled. And, I remain an outsider, not part of any clique or network. My chances of realizing this lifelong dream again looking slim at best.
Starting a new life here in Zurich, I’ve begun working as something akin to executive assistant for a management consulting company. I work for nine people at the same time. And, astonishingly enough, the job content is eerily similar to the admin part of working as a stage manager for large-scale shows.
There is also the same sense of urgency, the same unpredictability, constant changes, thinking on your feet, everything coming in late but needing to be done yesterday. And this sense of never quite knowing what the day or week will bring.
The one big difference is that now there is no instant gratification. As a stage manager, I am backstage in the evenings, after a day of admin, and see firsthand what I am working for. I feel the audience, the performers, the entire atmosphere backstage and onstage and I know I am making a difference. I know what I am working for.
Now, everything is abstract. I have an endless list of tasks, but do not hear if anything I have done actually helped towards the success of the project. I do not even hear if the project was successful in the end at all.
That being said, my job is never boring. The company climate is great. And the team is as good as it’s ever going to get, compared to everything else in my 32 years of work experience. So, I am in a good space.
At the end of the day, I guess I am simply homesick. Missing my home in Macau, in Coloane village, a small fishing village where at this time of year, I’d see millions of dragon flies soaring through the evening skies. And I’d sit on my rooftop after a long hard day, gazing at the stars, and having impromptu conversations with friends.
I am homesick for tropical climates, the cold beer in the evening which never tastes better anywhere else, and the local street food sold by my neighbors.
I am easing back into the structured perfection of Central European life. All the while realizing that a huge part of my heart will forever long for those places, experiences, and people I had to leave behind on the other side of the world.
Don’t get me wrong. I am happy where I am. Happy in the moment. Content gardening on my terrace, feeling the loving presence of the street cat I rescued 10 months ago. My memories of all that was before sustaining me.
But there also is a yearning. Missing something that might be forever a thing of the past.
I wonder if this is part of the human condition. Part of the condition of travelers. Or just part of my condition. To become so much a child of the world that the ache for faraway places becomes permanent.
In my case, it is a double ache. For life backstage, helping to create magic onstage. And for a life in exotic places where material safety and structure are not a given. Where typhoons muscle their way through the city, expats tell each other wild stories, and nothing is ever quite easy, comfortable, and secure.
These aches might be a permanent fixture in my life. But I am so grateful for them. I wouldn’t want to miss a second of all the experiences I was lucky to have thus far, all over the world. Even if it means that somewhere, in the deepest recesses of my heart from hereon out I will always be homeless, or at home everywhere at once. Whichever way you want to look at it.
(The elephant seen in a local forest around Zurich. A little taste of places yet to be discovered for young adventurers travelling in their minds on the back of stone elephants to far away destinations.)
As happy as I am where I am right now, I miss my home in Macay every single day. I miss my life in that strange, yet beautiful little town right next to Zhuhai, China. I miss my cozy apartment with a view over the South China Sea and the mainland. With its lush tropical forests and ever-growing competing forest of high-rise buildings.
I miss the people of Coloane village, like the pushy vegetable vendor who always talked me into buying more than I wanted. The Lord Stows restaurant employees downstairs who always brought my takeaway on a regular plate. The old lady around the corner who sold soft drinks and beer from her living room and who would be deeply asleep on the couch whenever I stopped by to buy something.
I miss the wonderful smells of Chinese or Portugese cooking lingering over the entire city. The tropical rain showers. The typhoons in the fall which reminded me of how small I am and left me in awe of nature’s grandeur. The dragon dances when a new shop opened and the splendor of gifted flower arrangements which were displayed outside the shop for a few days.
I miss Buddha’s birthday with all its festivities throughout town. The bright colors. The small temples in almost every street, the offerings and incense everywhere. And the kitchy lanterns lining every street for each festive holiday.
I miss the strange and infinitely complex Cantonese language which I was slowly beginning to understand. I lived in Lo Wan Si Koi and worked in San Hou Tin Dei (City of Dreams) and later in San Hou Jing Wui (Studio City).
I miss the Coloane hills through which I hiked many times, enjoying the tropical forest, the little pagodas, and the view of old, rusty barges on the ocean far below. I miss La Gondola on Cheoc Van Beach, with its old fashioned, bright red Coca Cola umbrellas, its incredible Calzone, and delicious Sangria.
I miss the narrow, mysterious alleys which were poetic in their imperfection. The swallows who sat lined up by the hundreds on the low hanging electrical lines in Old Taipa Village. And I miss those nights enjoying a wine with Jesus and my friends at El GauchoMacau, my favorite restaurant of all time. With its incredible steaks and homemade Chimichurri. In contrast, some of the best evenings were having Hot Pot with my Chinese work mates. Macau always stunned me with its potpourri of traditional and international delicacies.
Or having a Tsing Tao on a hot summer’s night on my rooftop, watching the fireworks over Chimelong Park just across the ocean, whilst letting the warm night air, so still and full of the fragrance of tropical foliage, caress me.
I miss all those moments and many more.
And I miss my cats. I think of those three brave little souls whom I was forced to leave behind and who I can now only hope have been left in good hands where they will be loved and have a caring forever home.
I tell myself to let go completely. Because there is nothing else I can do. No amount of pining and worrying will be able to change the unchangeable. What happened was way beyond my control. For my sanity, I want and need to let go. But, at the same time, I also never want to forget all these beautiful impressions and memories. And I always want to hold Pushka, Nacho, and Fellini in my heart. My three little feline children.
So, as I move on and slowly build a new life, grateful for what I have been given and been able to rebuild from the ruins, I still can’t help but feel the pain of all I have been forced to leave. Even though it’s now been almost two full years since then. The nightmares have almost stopped. I only have them a couple times per week now… when, for the first year, I had them every single night and could barely sleep.
I am getting back on my feet. I feel a sense of peace again. A sense of happiness. But the memories of a place and life I loved and had to leave behind and the pain that grew from that will always be a part of me now, I suppose.
In a way, I’m lucky as well though. I’ve always followed my heart and its led me to wondrous as well as challenging places and experiences. I keep growing from all I have learned. And I have more than one home. Geographically, thus far, I have four. Macau is most definitely one of those magical and important harbours in my life.
I love thunderstorms. Always have. Usually, I either go for a walk as the storm builds up or, if I can, I sit outside with a hot cup of tea or a glass of wine and calmly enjoy the forces of nature. Now, from my terrace, I can see the weather coming again. It’s the greatest thing. I remember, when living in the Maldives, I could see thunderstorms coming from miles away already. It was like a dark wall slowly moving towards us. And, after a while, I was able to predict precisely how long it would take before the storm would hit.
Thankfully, by now the storms in my life have calmed a little. I love my new place. Coming home to it every day is a real treat. Also, I am so fortunate to have my little, old, toothless street cat JoJo. He is a beacon of love and so soulful. Currently our relationship is shifting and he seems to want more personal space. If I don’t respect his boundaries and am too needy, he wraps all four legs around my arms and starts biting, or rather gumming, me. It’s probably the hot weather, changing life circumstances (me being away for work many hours of the day), the fact that he can now roam free on a big terrace (he loves having his own, save outdoor space), and simply that he now feels much more confident about his new place in the world. So, I am giving him space and enjoy every moment we get to snuggle together. As always, this old tomcat is teaching me a lot.
Ridiculously tranquil and idyllic moment during a walk around Greifensee. If you are ever in Kanton Zurich, this is a short hike I can really recommend. All the way around the lake it takes around 5 1/2 hours. Storks and other wildlife are all over the place. I used to come here often during my university years to go for full-moon-night hikes. Come to think of it, I’ll need to do one of those again soon.
Other than that, much has happened in the last few weeks. I received my permit to stay in Switzerland which took a huge load off my shoulder. Through the help of a friend (who alerted me to a great opportunity which I would otherwise have missed applying for) I found a job. And I found the perfect apartment for my old, toothless cat and me. We even have a small terrace overlooking Lake Zurich. JoJo spends most of his days outside if it doesn’t rain. Watching birds and absorbing as much sunshine as he can.
Me, too. Wine glass or coffee cup in hand, I just gaze into the distance. Over the lake and the Alps on the horizon, marvelling at how beautiful this place is… and wondering where my next wanderings will take me…
If anyone has any tips for weekend hikes in the Swiss mountains, let me know! I realize, I want to explore this country a lot more. I’ve only just scratched the surface of all there is to see.
The Wonderweg continues. Currently mostly just around Zurich. But it’s amazing. I have already lived here twice. Altogether, this is now my 18th year here, but I am daily re-discovering Zurich on a whole new level. Finding corners I’ve never been to before. Enjoying familiar corners with fresh eyes. Genuinely savouring every moment.
This picture was taken on Zueriberg. A hill above Zurich’s university. There is a small, steep path which winds its way uphill, and it’s called ‘Himmelsleiterli’ which means ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ Quite adorable really. And picturesque to boot.
Slowly, slowly after two years of couch-surfing and uncertainty about pretty much everything, the puzzle pieces are beginning to fit together again. A former work colleague alerted me to a position that was open in my old company. I applied and, voila, after several interviews and an assessment they decided to take me. I am over the moon about it, because one of my biggest worries was that I would have to take a job I don’t like, which would then have been only a temporary solution again. I really wanted to find a work environment and work content I’ll enjoy. To be able to settle a bit and stay long-term if possible. Now, I am so grateful that I ended up finding just that.
Then, only a couple weeks after signing my new work contract, I happened to stumble upon an incredibly cozy little rooftop apartment. I had been able to stay with a friend since I arrived in Switzerland beginning of the year. We had even thought of making it a long-term arrangement. But, after such a long time of not having my own home I felt ever more strongly that I needed my own space again. No matter how small it might end up being. I saw the rooftop apartment online. Applied straight away without even looking at it first. I just knew, this is my place. After I put lots of effort into an unusual application, the agency did end up taking me as a tenant. I am not sure exactly when I’ll move in yet. Which is fine. I am in no rush and will enjoy the last few weeks of living together with my good friend and flat mate.
Until I start work in a month, I’ll also spend as much quality time as possible with my toothless cat. I’ll wonder and wander around Zurich and the surrounding regions a bit more, too. Catch some sunshine and relax fully for the first time since the fall of 2019. It’s still step by little step. And no one ever knows anything for sure in life. But I am breathing a huge sigh of relief for now and am looking forward to continue starting a new life.
Since yesterday, my book is available for sale in Paranoia City, a wonderful, little, independent book shop in Zurich. Paralian is officially out of print, so these are the last 6 copies available for now. What better place to sell them at than in my old home which inspired a large part of this book anyways. On Amazon and other ebook providers Paralian is still available in e-book format as well https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/autobiography/paralian/
My just recently adopted, old, toothless partner in crime is teaching me so much about life. About pausing every now and then to appreciate what we have instead of worrying about what we don’t have. About enjoying those almost imperceptible rays of sunshine. Most of all, he teaches me about love. I guess because we know our time together is limited and can end at any moment. The vet can’t really tell how old JoJo is. Anything between 12 and 15 years is possible, he thinks. And JoJo has FIV, the feline version of HIV. It can potentially fully break out at any moment and then he’ll only have a few months left. So, I am completely aware of each second spent with this incredibly beautiful soul. I am grateful we can make each other happy for however long that may be. While I hold him in my arms and he soothes me through his gentle presence, I learn to love and let go more deeply than ever before.
A quick breather yesterday at Lake Constance. It’s always amazing for me to find sandy beaches and secluded spots so close to bustling civilization.
Otherwise, not much new here on the aiming-to-settle-in-Zurich-again front. I must admit, I am exhausted. It’s been a good two years now of hanging in limbo on so many levels and I am starting to really feel it. At the moment, I am waiting to hear back concerning an application process I went through week before last. To be completely honest, ever since then it’s hard for me to focus on anything else. Because, out of all the jobs I’ve applied for so far, none have been a better fit. This job will be great for me in every respect. Such a wonderful mix of interesting work content, great team, and outstandingly good company culture. And I’ll be good at it, too. I am full of hope. And at the same time terrified. The most delicious carrot is dangling in front of me. I can almost touch it. And I had such a rare good feeling during the interviews. Now I’m unsure how I’ll handle it, if that carrot won’t be for me. Of course, I’ll have to just keep going. But oh boy, you know, when you just feel something is right for you. You know it with every fibre of your being. And you’ve done all you possibly can for it. And now the decision is out of your hands. All you can do is wait and hope that the people you talked with as well as the universe all agree with you that it’s the right path.
So amidst all these tumbling thoughts and obsessively checking my email every half hour yesterday, I went to visit my dad who lives right next to this immensely beautiful spot in Southern Germany. The wind, the sun, and the crisp air did me a world of good and transported me quickly from inside my head to firmer ground. Being in nature does that for me. It always restores balance and brings me back to myself.