Lunch In Verbier

No further troubles along the route. Though my cell phone is still without service. It was just about 1:30 when I arrived in Verbier, a bit nervous as the bus kept twisting its way up the steep mountain to reach the town. Feeling refreshed and excited, I made my way to Pizzeria Borsolino. There were few other customers. In fact, I saw very people in the town. It is the low season.

Informed I could sit anywhere, I made my way to a table on the terrace, which I had entirely to myself. I sat there and peered out over the Alps, delighting in the magnificent mountain air. The menu was a bit intimidating, not because of any language barrier, because the prices here (everywhere) are tremendously expensive. Inspired by the vineyards I’d witnessed on the train, I ordered a half bottle of Chasselas, a local white varietal, to accompany a pizze marguerite and my carafe of flat water. That cost 46 CHF.

Without a sound around me, I settled in and absorbed The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, the memoir of Jean Dominque Bauby. His simple and profound persepective on life aided me in a round of positive thinking and embrace of the occasional magnificence of life. The difficult news and frustrations discovered before my flight were able to settle into a point of acceptance and determination to make everything alright.

About an hour later, I finished my book and the end of the wine, then set off for MyVerbier’s rental office. Picked up the keys and then went into Migros, the local grocery to pick up a cell phone. The first song on the intercom was “All The Lovers” by Kylie Minogue. Indeed, I had arrived in Europe.

Once I settled into the flat I realized that the internet was not functioning. I forced myself to take a shower and repaired back to the office to find a solution. No solution was discovered. Back in the flat, without any connection to the outside world and suddenly experiencing incredible sleep deprivation, I felt my world close. The good feeling of a few hours descended into extreme loneliness. I closed my eyes. Sleep was necessary.

Once up from my nap, felt it was time to shake up my surroundings and I headed back into the town, where it seemed nary another soul could be found. I sat in an internet café and tried to navigate the German directed keyboard, avoiding multiple Gs and Zs. Suddenly I heard the most hideous, loud, and obnoxious ring tone. That was my new mobile. Kate had found me.

Next thing I know, I was in TBar, greeted by her bright and happy face, exuding the radiance of someone who’d found the right mate as they embark upon matrimony.
There was an incredible group of new but familiar faces, and there was a constant joy and comfort in each conversation. Before long, we were up at the chalet, where I could catch up with Kate’s family. That loneliness I’d felt earlier was long gone. Here I was, being treated like a guest of honor, delighting in the beauty of friendship.

That transition is very important for me to realize. This summer has been difficult. Nothing in San Diego has gone the way I’d expected. Nevertheless, it has been an important lesson. A huge reason why I left was to build a foundation for myself, and that does not happen overnight. As each day has past, and particularly in the latter days of August and early September, my mood kept sinking. I felt quite a bit the way I did in the afternoon when I was (technologically) cut off from the world. Certainly you don’t find best friends overnight, but sooner or later, you start to make your way and find your place.