The Dream

My prettiest sister asked me the other night, have you always known you wanted to go overseas?

The answer is yes -- yes I knew I wanted to be in a different culture and see how other people lived. I didn't want to just visit, I wanted to be there and live there.

In spite of being in another country, I didn't really feel like I lived in Turkey (since we were on the outskirts of the city and really on a multi-national campus) until my parents came to visit. Having them visit the second year really made me realize that I was picking them up at my airport. I was showing them around my town. I was leading them to the church that they should attend in my neighborhood.

It was a weird feeling to have somewhere else be my home.

The only evidence besides my memory that proved I had always wanted to live overseas was when my most thoughtful sister brought me a note I wrote to her when she moved to AZ (a big deal for me, her 18 yr old sister) that said that moving to another "culture" would be good and that I have always wanted to live in one for a few years. I even wrote, "not months, years." I was very specific in my message sending.

So the dream was to live somewhere else and I did it, so now what.

The rest of the dream was to come back, get a house, have 2 more kids, get a higher degree.

I am not sure the rest of the dream will hold up...

...not all of it at least. I have gotten to a point where I am okay with that.

I do my best dreaming in the car, and my mind often drifts to my college graduation where we broke clay pipes before lining up to process as a symbol of getting rid of our pipe dreams.

Dreams change. We change. For the better.

I think my kids have reshaped the dream, my husband has reshaped the dream. They were part of it from the beginning, but the way I see the world and what I care about has changed.

The dream involves them and is for them, its not about what I want anymore.

It's what I want for them.

My family is a piece of art, so I guess I need to start chipping away at this great sculpture of David (not you Pellicane) because he is hot and I want my family to be hot too.

Valentine's Day Weekend

Running into icy cold water and running out is my kind of Valentine's Day.

Especially when I am the one taking pictures of it.

The Geography of Bliss

I came across this book a few days ago at the library and upon scanning the title, quickly snatched it from its shelf:

I was never one for world geography in school (memorizing all of the countries in Eastern Europe and Africa certainly turned out to be a waste of time - I spent hours trying to memorize the spelling of Czechoslovakia) but the Geography of Bliss is a different story: someone knows the longitude and latitude of happiness?  Sign me up for this course!


Happiness is subjective, obviously, so instead of taking Eric Weiner's opinion as fact, I thought I would do some research on the subject myself.  Since hopping on a plane and traversing the globe weren't going to be possible this moring, I did the next best thing: I turned to Google.


According to my search results, a Life Magazine slide show recommends Vietnam as one of its top happy places (I think my father would disagree) and an article from the UK Telegraph believes happiness lies in one of the most sparsely populated countys in Wales.  Well, I've been to Wales and I must say, I can see why it is on that list:

Photos taken along the South West Coastal Path, Wales

There was one site that claimed Bournemouth, England was a place full of content, happy folk but I once knew a guy who grew up there in his family's camper van who couldn't wait to escape.  I don't know, it looks pretty nice to me.

Everyone has an opinion on this subject, it seems, but after wading deep into the mire of the Internet, the two reporting authorities on the subject who seem to have done their research and whom I most trust are Oprah and Mr. Geography of Bliss himself, Eric Weiner.


When a recent study claimed Denmark the happiest place in the world, Oprah took flight to discover first hand what makes the Danes so happy (I blogged my reaction to that show on my personal blog here).  


I dig the idea that Denmark is a "post consumerist society" and think I would do well there.  Plus, the thought of leaving future lil' Alba LaPointe peacefully sleeping in her carriage outside of a coffee shop while I sip lattes with my new Danish bffs really appeals to me.  Seriously - have you ever tried to negotiate your way through a sea of strollers just to get to the counter of Starbucks?  Or been mowed down by a double wide upon exiting the bathroom at a restaurant?  Carriage free coffee drinking is the way forward for me.


Weiner, on the other hand, seems to share my Bah, Humbug approach toward life (I know, I know, the point of this blog is to adjust that attitude; I'm working on it. Baby steps).  His travels took him to the one place that of late, I've dreamed of moving to: Switzerland.


My dear friend Lynsey, a Scottish gal who is a true firecracker, lives in Basel and from my talks with her about its lack of crime (5 year olds walk to school.  ALONE.), efficiency in all aspects of city living, particularly mass transit, cleanliness (apparently, there is no litter in Switzerland and no pollution. Zip. Zero. Nada.), I'm ready to pack my bags and start a new.


There is an aspect, Lyns mentioned once, that could be off putting to some; Weiner agrees with her, I discovered: compared to Americans, the Swiss may seem, um, how should I say this, aloof? Non-demonstrative? 


Hmm. Can a fairly hyper gal like me find happiness in a place that is calm and reticent?


I think so.  


Who I appear to be is not really who I am.  Yes, I do tend to juke and jive and talk a lot at times but the majority of my life is spent in silence.  I like to be alone.  I don't like noise and confusion.  If you've read my personal blog, you know that I hate the sound of laughter.


In fact, I'm quite a dull person when I'm not entertaining others.


Matt's bank has an office in Zurich and lately, he's been dealing with those who work there and has established a great rapport.  Last night at dinner, he casually asked me how close Zurich is to where my friend Lynsey lives.  


I would move to Zurich in a heartbeat (its public bathrooms are to die for in terms of cleanliness, I read).  I can imagine myself spending weekends walking in the Alps (Weiner writes that above all, the Swiss turn to nature as their source of happiness) and strolling Alba through the streets of fresh air during the week.
     
Would this environment that seemingly lacks the drama and stimulation of life in New Jersey (I doubt there are Swiss versions of JWoww and Snooki) bore me?


Who knows, but after reading this in Weiner's book, I think I would do just fine:

"Maybe happiness is this: not feeling like you should be elsewhere, doing something else, being someone else. Maybe the current conditions in Switzerland... 

make it easier to 'be' and therefore, 'be happy'."