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I have to first apologize that this has taken so long. As long drawn out as the time between arrival and this posting is, it is nowhere near as delayed as it should be for the amount I would be able to compile on this forum. Indeed, if I tried to put it all down it would become so entangled that it may be better just to give a broad idea of what has happened to act as a foundation from which I can better describe future posts. As I type now, I sit in the Falcon’s nest, a student facilitated common room in the Airone dorm of campus where I act as the monitor on Monday and Thursday nights from 6 to 9 pm, or more appropriately, 18:00 to 21:00.
At the San Francisco airport the Franklin pre-boarders all met at the Swiss Air terminal. I spent the day in transit and swamped by the humidity of New York City, a place I can now mark off of my list and never return to. After being overwhelmed by all of the new faces and names, we boarded and I quickly fell into a heavily Ambien induced doze. The last things I remember before waking up were the Swiss flag stamped on the wing tips of our airplane, and the sound of Sigur Ros waving me asleep.
I awoke to sunrise over western Switzerland, the captain’s announcement to blame for both my return to conscience and immediate excitement, “We will be landing in Zurich in twenty five minutes.” Between this announcement and landing on the bus, little happened. We shuffled through the airport, I was assigned my dorm, Panera, and I realized I had a lot of luggage.
The bus ride was absolutely spectacular, the photos are all I need say about it.
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Then, something that I could have never imagined, we arrived in Lugano.
We immediately went to our dorms where we had several hours for the preliminary unpacking, something I cannot currently imagine undoing.
This is the view of the back entrance to Panera 7, our home, complete with a private lawn and a few of the rest of this residence.
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The first week was filled with some very tiring activities, mostly formal and in an auditorium setting.
The highlight of the week was a hike up Mt. San Salvatore and a trip to Valley Versazca, a small town situated two hours away in the Swiss mountain-countryside complete with waterfalls and glacial melt.
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My roommate Greg and I
At Valley Versazca we ate lunch by a glacial stream then walked up to a breathtaking waterfall where we swam in freezing water, posed for awesome pictures and prepared for the Franklin initiation, jumping from the bridge into glacial pools.
Needless to say orientation went by in a blur. After such an exhausting week there is little to say other than *phew*, but with classes the next Monday there was little to do other than choose classes. After an afternoon on the Panera lawn deciding if I wanted to enjoy my first semester or get requirements out of the way, I gave in to reason and took the latter path. This semester I am taking five courses and a travel class to Lausanne, Geneva and the Alps.
My English requirement is being fulfilled by my English 100 class with a Mrs. Professor Gardiner. So far in her class I have written an essay arguing that America’s moral fabric is falling apart due to the obvious evils of consumer capitalism, and one defending the use of torture not only to save lives but to punish, procure and control. Quite the interesting contrast.
My mathematics professor is a Mr. Erich Prisner, who teaches us Introduction to Game Theory in the most entertaining broken English I have ever had to understand for a class. We are currently working on multiple person sequential games, and I have to say it is very confusing so far.
After arriving to my Italian 100 class on day one, the teacher (a Signora Gebhardt) decidedly moved me up to Italian 101 where I discovered I was much better suited, and much happier with the teacher I would get to learn the language from. Signor Moscatelli has been teaching Italian for over twenty years and brings more enthusiasm to the room than I thought possible, but try to tell that to some of the hung over upper class men lingering in the back. We have so far taken one test and I received one of only four A’s in the entire class. Yay.
Each freshman must take one semester of a First Year Seminar course. Mine is on Global Social Movements and the Media. It is taught by my favorite teacher, Professor (Mrs.) Vogelaar and although the course reading is dense I have learned many interesting things that I will try to take with me on my future travels. There will be more said on this topic later.
Last but not least of my general courses is Global History: From the beginnings with Professor (Mr.) Pyka, pronounced “pyooka.” Probably the most brilliant of my teachers, his discourse on speculative early world history is nothing short of spellbinding. I have had the opportunity to equally entertain him with some of my own ideas, and just today I was caught after class in his office by campus PR photographers. Lets just say I will be appearing on the website and or in brochures for the college somewhere in the near future.
The last thing I can say about my classes thus far is this: I know I am doing too much work for them. That isn’t to say that I couldn’t do more (I could, I would die) and it isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I have been on the ball like a seal balancing act. It has given me few truly social moments outside of late night or early morning excursions. I have been getting better at this, but learning to manage school and social needs will be one of the challenges as I try to work out being a top student at this college.
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As you imagine Lago Lugano, Sorengo (our campus home) is situation just up the hill, a fifteen minute walk from the lakeside. Once there, it is a forty minute walk along the coastal portion of the city of Lugano to a more secluded protrusion of land where there is a large rope swing. A few weeks ago (I think, time is blurry, I really have yet to settle in, clearly) a group of six (Pauli, Ryan, Kali, Adrienne, Acacia and myself) all went to swim in the warm lake for one of the best afternoons I can remember.
en route
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we live in paradise
Other photos on Flickr include day trips into town and a night hike up San Salvatore, pictured immediately to the left in my left arm in the above photo as I fly through the air.
I have almost forgot, the roommates and friends! Greg Wen and Ryan McCarthy are my two roommates in Panera 7. Greg is from the south Bay Area, China and Norway, and Ryan is from New Jersey. It is an amusing grouping but it has ended up working out really well (I think…). Then, there are the girls down the hill. Acacia, Quinn and Kayla (respectively from Alaska, Colorado and the Bay Area) are always up at our room doing homework and hanging out with us. It has in some ways evolved into a 6 person apartment for three. Above us are the other girls, Cora, Tamiah and Alexi. They have since become known for their dance parties and their incessant stealing of my Bose speakers… I must find a way to recover them for good sooner or later. Included in this fun is Pauli, our other adopted roommate, and our neighbors next door that include Emma, Aleja and Clara. So far it has been all too overwhelming having so many people around, but it means quiet times like right now become even more appreciated.
For now, this is all he wrote. I will update now more frequently with the awesome events coming up in my life.
My life right now is wave after wave of monotony. And I wondered why there was nothing to really update about 
I served a party of 20 last night. It was pretty intense and incredibly rewarding. I still don’t know why I have yet to become a full time server.
Two months nine days. Is this really happening? Is it really almost one month and so much to go? Surreal…
The opening of Pizzeria Amoroma has required a lot of work and energy. Who knew it would get easier, then harder.
I had to unwrap a good one hundred chairs.
And then move them from the back of the restaurant (same location pictured twice from opposing vantages.)
I managed to line up the front of the house alright. I later had a serving shift where I took more tables than I ever had before! Yay for progress.
A small photo, but an important one. The moleskin, wine key, crumber and pens are my arsenal.
And completely unrelated, apparently there is a shop in San Francisco specializing in party clean up.
It is much easier when there is a photo or two to compliment a posting.
Two months fourteen days.
Unfortunately no photos exist to document the epicness of the other night, Saturday April 18th, so I will try my best to summarize some of it. Arriving at Stanford I was greeted by rows of palms and an absolutely perfect day. I found this storys’ other two players, Sarah and Toby, in the Enchanted Broccoli Forest where they had just completed their work for the day. We enjoyed the shade (as it was well in the 70′s) of the enchanted broccoli abound in wait for food. It was discovered soon after that we had waited a tad too long, but were able enough to fill our plates in satisfaction. We finished quickly, as hard workers and my free loading rear tend to do when presented feast in excess. I dare asked ”what now?” inquiring of some not-so-immediate future too vague to say I could have anticipated the obvious response.
“Now comes the cooperation.”
After watching a dozen or so freshman scramble to gain favor with the Enchanted Broccoli Elders by cleaning the industrial sized kitchen, we stood outside considering pursuit of great views, nature, an adventure, or as it should always happen, a combination of all three. We had almost considered frisbee on the lawn an option for such a day, but it was meant to be greater. We settled on pooling gas money for the thirty minutes drive up to a portion of distant ridge line to the west, void of the dense redwood growth that was instantly transforming to our settings the second we turned onto Old La Honda Road. If I were asked if this road were unusual..
“Kyle, standard?”
“Quite.”
I come from a town with road problems and miles of windy, one lane streets that all seem to crumble with a hurrying inevitability, so that is standard. But the road, is it -
“Epic?”
“Hella.”
It seems we use our education to master linguistic mine fields of northern California colloquialisms. It doesn’t come out that we may be intelligent people. Too much bay in me, a poisoned something awesome absorbed from years under the golden skies. I will carry it abroad with honor.
The road was windy, lined by grove after grove of redwood, it was all of these great things. As we drove past giant trunk roots spilling out at the car I noticed that much of this ecosystem was was familiar to back at home. This canyon we found ourselves traversing up, though not as appropriately named, was similar if not near identical to Canyon. I can imagine the springtime of my town spread across the entire state as I saw it here in Stanford. Quite thought full. The evening continued to greet our excited interest as we pulled over the last hill crest to views of the south bay from above heights of Stanford. Perfect. This place found our feelings of California solshine.
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Anyways, we pulled to the side of the road twenty feet past the stagger-fenced entrance of the fire trail, awestruck by views of an impressive ocean, its’ blanket of clouds and the impending sunset. Turning around, 70 percent of our horizon was bay and distant hills. Returning from this impressive spin, the ocean view was impeded only by the forehead of a large hill, where, had we the ability to penetrate a brush wall to its’ balding crest, would have seen the entirety of both bay and sea. We went down the fire trail thirty yards to find a line of wild chamomile down the center of the path. An air of romanticism tinted the scene as we got on hands and knees to serendipitously scour for large buds from premature chamomile thickets. As we sat we dreamt of a monster; the Nugmuncher. He scours as we had the grounds of fire and deer trail alike in search of the little ‘nugs’ of newly budding flowers. Slothlike in expenditure and as covetous of his treasure as any dragon (as he is a western cousin of the Komodo, though I use it in the sense of fire-breathing treasure-protecting), he finds his only needs in life are the buds. We happened to be nugmunching as well in our own sense. Unfortunately the tea we intended to make – after drying of course – turned out foul in its herbal taste.
We hiked up the hill through dense grass and brush to a fire trail curtailed by fields of California Purple Needle Grass, towers of Lupine, opening Buttercups, California Golden Poppies and little Scarlet Pimpernels, hiding out-measured beneath the reaching grass. The sun faded, the day shone, and we descended from our own history. All to live in the day was in that evening, as the night saw a decline in festivities of the sort to which I am engaged.
It is now something like three months twenty days. Hah.
I don’t think I can explain it, even as it comes.
Apparently my idea to bring Franklin’s summer program of teaching English (currently to monastery monks in Nepal) around the world is a good one. A $3000.00 good idea. Wonderful 
I walk in through the side door, through the managers corner, around into the back side of the kitchen at Artisan Bistro for the beginning of my second shift as host. The chef greets me as I ladle some rice onto my plate for staff meal. A prep cook turns to me and asks my name, saying “aren’t you a little big for a Hobbit?” …The man is 5’8 uncomfortably in his heightening work shoes. I don’t even know how to respond at 6’1 in mine… uhh, yes I look young maybe? Sorry that you are insecure. Anyways, onwards I go. I eat the delicious food and prepare the station for my shift.
It’s a busy night, just shy of two turns for the whole restaurant, a great feat for a fledgling joint. As I sort through OpenTable* to properly plan out the night, the new night manager Ed comes around from the kitchen and greets me with a “Hey there kid,” something he would repeat three times throughout the night. Apparently it’s my night / job to be the token youngest guy in the place. Granted Ed is the only one who should be allowed to call me kid (as he is the only one over 50 and taller than I) it is still seems demeaning. Ed starts off the night by swooping all of the incoming phone calls all the while showing how he doesn’t know how to use our computer system. He the manager, I the trainee, we undoubtedly clash (as I am way more capable at what he is trying to be the leader of) and he confronts me. I’ve been trying to seat and organize our floor through the OpenTable system while he moves things around and thoroughly confuses me by rearranging table numbers, table positions etc. After seating the wrong reservation at the wrong table I tell him I want him to stop and leave me my job to do by my self. Woh. What a big responsibility. He takes it personally as if I am a control freak. No, I am no control freak, I take my job seriously and I do it better than you, so I want you out of my way. Simple. He drops his qualms and moves on with the night.
Now, the rest of the wait staff is all male as well. Since arrival I have been the youngest and have gotten the brunt of the jokes. It’s funny, because by the end of the shift (one of the busier ones for the restaurant), after I had hosted, bussed 75% of the tables, and done more to help create a seamless transition and experience for our patrons, it stopped. By the end of the night, I was no longer ‘kid’. Ed came up to me and apologized saying he was incredibly impressed and unaware at how beyond capable I was. Two of the servers tipped me extra for over seating their section and helping them throughout the night. I don’t know about the guy who commented on me being a Hobbit (insecure tard) but I doubt that I will be told what to do for very long. I am more capable than any of these fools could ever be, and as it takes time to show that, it may be a while until everyone comes to my side of the circle. I have no doubt though that they will all come to want me to be the one covering their asses while I bus / host / whatever in this little Lafayette Bistro, saving them from mediocrity and whatnot.
But really though, you wouldn’t believe how amusing it is to be the youngest, tallest guy among a crowd of aging insecure shorter men who work in restaurants. There is something about it that is pricelessly comical.
Babi, Babaroo, Ferocious Beast… whatever you call her, our guard beast is a huge part of our families life.
Babi is under the knife as we speak to address two growths which we hope are only benign cysts. I always assumed Babi would be around forever, and if not, at least ten years. Now over eight, I hope she makes it. She is the most adorable pooch in the world.
In other more provocative news, nudity is becoming a problem in Swiss hiking / backpacking communities.
Of course my mom brought it up in the context of “you should do this”… I never quite know what’s going through her head when she says these things.
Off to work, a few hundred houses and I will be back home studying Italian.
5M3DmanyGOALSoneDREAM. SviZZera!
IT DID!!! One day, two locked jobs, a record first-day canvassing and the tangible idea of franklin don’t begin to give justice to the greater scene of my day.
To start it off, I was hired at a restaurant opening soon in Lafayette called Artisan Bistro.
Portabello Sandwich, you want it in your belly, right??
Next off, at two, I started my much anticipated canvassing job with the California League of Conservation Voters.
First house: 150 dollar donation
Off to a wonderful start! Oh, and then I got to watch the sun set over the Pacific.
Yea, it turned out
…to be an incredible evening. The only curveball I was thrown was a Russian man who told me the environment was not in danger, and asked me if I knew what Chernobyl was. I ended up not even knowing what or how to say it, so I left with my tail between my legs. Oh well, you can’t win them all..
I raised 220 dollars, a record first day since my supervisor Brian had started the job back in September (and he has seen many first days!)
I am back at home, in good e-company and playing with the concept of tangibility and its new role in the reality of Franklin College Switzerland.
My mind is soaring. I am soaring.
Buona Notte!
