Good morning all my lovelies,
It's Sunday morning, and once again the Swiss, I've realized, have done it right.
While sitting on my balcony, streaming a radio station from back home and sipping on piping hot espresso, I was in total peace with the world.
Since I've picked up my world, my life, my home, and moved here, I suppose I haven't had that true feeling of peace, serenity, and simple 'me' time. Since starting classes, I've been go-go-go, and really, very unaware of it. But your body will let you know. Intending on going out Friday night, I got terribly sick and ended up staying home on the couch with a girlfriend and pottering over to the Grotto for some fish, spinach pasta, veggies, and dessert when I felt I could keep food down.
Don't get me wrong, it was a lovely night, something I desperately needed. To lay low, and breathe. But it was clearly forced upon me. Like when you're little and you've "had too much birthday cake" or "too much excitement." Your mum will put you to bed early, and you'll be fine the next day- up and ready to go. But when we grow up, Mum isn't there to say "you've had enough," and you have to figure it out on your own.
But you can't help but feeling like you had a 'lame' night when hearing all of your friends hit the club that night.
In Switzerland, as I mentioned in my previous post, one has 'quiet hours' but also it's very traditional with Sundays. Nothing is open. It is a day to rest, relax, and remind yourself of la joie de vivre.
Originally it can be a hinderance. One has to think ahead- so there's food in the house for sunday morning and the like.
But a rainy Sunday morning, surrounded by closed up shops, I looked up from my journal and my espresso and saw an elderly couple at the apartment across from me. They were on their patio watering plants.
I'm creating a new Sunday morning tradition. To rest, relax, and revive. To "remind yourself of la joie de vivre." Even if it's rain, espresso, and satin robes.
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