Bourne vs. Bond

8/27/13

The Bourne movies have always haunted me. They mirror something inside--a minor-key wanderlust to find out who I am. When some people think of globetrotting and adventure, James Bond comes to mind. A martini on a yacht in Monaco, or baccarat at a casino in the Caribbean. Suave and always in good humor, he's at home anywhere (though preferably with supermodels). Bourne, on the other hand, moves about in the world of gritty train stations, hidden city flats, and snowy mountain highways in search of home, of identity and companionship. 

I didn't really plan anything for this trip through Switzerland because amazing things happen to me when I lose myself into that abyss of chance and strangers. A tried-and-true rule of thumb in story-writing is, the higher the stakes, the better the story. It's amazing to watch what happens when we let the spontaneity of chance breathe fresh air through the cobwebs of our habitual choices and comfort. Maybe that means a sleepless night by the side of a highway, but it's only then that the stars blaze in a way we never forget. 

More often, though, wonderful things happen. I arrived at the Geneva airport yesterday afternoon and somehow found my way into the city. After my last Facebook post, a friend of mine named Sanja offered me a place to stay for a couple nights in Nyon, just east along the lake, and right on my travel route to the mountains of Zermatt. There I hope to see Phil, a paraglider pilot I met on Kilimanjaro, and do some flying. I met Sanja in Chicago a couple years ago, where she was working for the Swiss consulate and rooming with a good friend of mine.

This morning's sun beckoned me down hushed cobblestone streets, past trickling fountains, to a tall white chateau overlooking the lake. Below its courtyard a maze of slate rooftops shaded geranium balconies and tiny immaculate gardens. I bought a loaf of bread and some cheese, which I ate beneath an old ruin of columns left over from the Roman settlement thousands of years ago. A large boat flying a French flag left the marina below for the other side of the lake with a long blow of its horn. Bread should be eaten straight from the loaf like that. It's so delicious by itself, but we treat it as filler or something to hold a sandwich together. The inside was so moist it stuck to my fingers, and the crust was just barely bitter like a good dark beer.

A while later I went to a corner cafe for an espresso to fight the jet lag. The short, elderly woman who ran the place didn't speak any English whatsoever, but a lady at a nearby table enjoying a glass of wine helped me translate and struck up a conversation with me, even offering me a glass of wine. She taught me some French and got very excited about me paragliding around Switzerland. Her name was Gabriela, and she just retired to Nyon from Geneva.

The first thing you see at the Geneva airport is ads for Swiss watches. I've always wondered what could be so special about something that just tells time, I mean $20,000 special. Even the streets in Nyon are lined with watch shops. I watched a movie on the way over about holding on to immortality or living just once, but living that life bravely. Time always seems to surprise us, which Lewis and Vanauken say proves eternity is our natural habitat. I wondered, if my life were a watch, what would it look like? Would I have a hand that counts every second? Would there be some scratches on the bezel? Waterproof?

My friend Davita once asked me what was one of my big fears. I couldn't think of anything for three days. Then I realized it was wasting time, not living life to its fullest, whatever that looks like. 

The other thing that's everywhere in Switzerland is chocolate, and it's expensive. I'm on a bread/water/hitchhiking budget, but as a tightwad I often have to remind myself that life's meant to enjoy good things too, not just get by. So I have a bar of noir orange Belgian chocolate to get me through the next few days. 

That's the update for now. Hopefully the next few days will bring some soaring over the Alps!

-Graham