The refugee crisis

As I caught the bus from the border this morning, a colleague got on and we were lucky enough to get two seats together. She has just come back from a week volunteering in Lesbos, Greece, where many of the refugee boats have been running aground. I knew she was going beforehand as she said she wanted to do something that would put her own situation into perspective. So through the magic of the internet she was able to google "Lesbos volunteers" and managed to hook up with a very well run group of volunteers working there.

She flew through Athens to Lesbos and had reserved a studio in an area which turned out not to be at all suitable for her work tasks so, after contacting one of the coordinators, she moved on to another area nearer to where she would be expected to work. The surreal thing is, during her week's stay there she never saw a single refugee, and only one boat arrived in all that time! The volunteers were of course on duty 24/7 just in case but she said that since 20 March when the EU began turning the boats around, only one boat had arrived on the island. From what she could understand, they were all massing at the land border with Macedonia.

She said volunteers were arriving and departing every day but that the group was well organized and very motivated. One of the tasks assigned to her was to help out in the "warehouse". Apparently, at the beginning, when refugees arrived they were taken to changing rooms (women/children and a separate area for men) and their wet and dirty clothing was simply dumped in landfill. Now the volunteers were getting the clothing washed and dried in order to pass it back on to new arrivals. The amazing thing was though that when clean clothes were offered to some of the refugees they said that they "didn't want that colour or that particular item"! She was amazed. It turns out that some had paid people smugglers around $1,500 to make the journey and had been assured that they would be met upon arrival and taken care of. Sadly, that sounds eerily familiar doesn't it. Of course they had been taken in by the scumball people smugglers, who I suspect are the only ones benefiting from the current crisis.

The refugees were told by the smugglers to puncture their boats when they got nearer to land because if it was sinking they would definitely be picked up, whereas a viable boat would be towed back in the direction it came from. She heard of one boat where two fathers had died because they were sitting in the middle of the boat, that, of course, being where the water pools the fastest once the boat is punctured.

She said many of the volunteers were very "idealistic" in their views so she preferred to keep her own counsel. My feeling is that I feel so sorry for the genuine refugees, whose plight has been made worse by the economic migrants trying to sneak into Europe. Interestingly, many of those being sent back are Bangladeshis and Pakistanis and while I understand people's wish to better their lot in life, it has to be done through legal channels. Her take on that was that Bangladeshis have always come to Greece for seasonal work and so their plight was also being made worse by the current situation.

She said that she had no idea what to expect but that it was an amazing experience and she hopes to go back to volunteer when she has more leave. When they weren't working at the warehouse they worked shifts cleaning up debris from the beaches and while it was hard physical work she would do it again in a heartbeat.

I'm not sure how she would have reacted had she been there with boats arriving and people drowning, but I have to say I admire what she did (and what others continue to do) and I take my hat off to her.

A cunning business plan!

Yesterday I had one of my regular visits to the gynae - one of the joys of being a woman I guess! Still, I suppose you get used to it and while just like the dentist it is never fun, keeping up with your routine check-ups, to my mind, far outweighs the alternative of sticking your head in the sand.

When I came back from St. Lucia I noticed a small, burn-like mark on my right inner thigh. At first I thought I had scratched myself but this "blemish" just didn't go away and almost looked like a blister. There had been nothing there before - no freckle, no birthmark, etc. - so after a while it began to bother me since I realized that you should be aware of what your skin looks like "on a normal day". On top of that, I had been daft enough to burn in St. Lucia so I decided to keep an eye on it.

So while I was at the gynae's I'm lying there thinking "well, he's a doctor and since his head is down that way anyway ....." What do you do? Do you think "in for a penny, in for a pound" or do you stick to the job at hand? I guess one of the joys of getting older is that in the end you really don't give too much of a shit about what it looks like so eventually I asked him what he thought. He said he didn't think it was anything to worry about but since it had appeared suddenly and was not going away maybe it would be a good idea to check it out with a dermatologist.  When I got back to work, I got the name of a dermatologist from the phone book, called up and have an appointment in a couple of days time.

The reason behind this rambling is because it got me to thinking how fortunate we are here in Geneva to call up to make an appointment to see a doctor and get an appointment in the next couple of days. It certainly isn't like that in France, I can tell you, and from what I understand it isn't like that in the U.K. either. I mean, in France you need to make your gynae or optician's appointment 6-9 months in advance and while that is probably ok if it is just routine stuff, what do you do if it is more urgent?

Of course the reason it is easier in Switzerland is because it is privatized medicine; moreover it is far from cheap! We are very lucky to have excellent medical insurance through work and I was discussing this with my colleague afterwards. The cunning business plan that came to me while sitting on the bus was that say, for instance in the U.K., if you needed to see a doctor but could wait a week, well then that was fine and your visit should continue to be free. (Yes I know it's not free, it's paid through your taxes, but bear with me here). But say you were worried about something and really wanted to get in to see the doctor within the next 48 hours - how about proposing a small charge - say £10 for that "speedy" visit. The logic here being that the £10 charge might stop some people who really didn't need to see the doctor from clogging up the surgery time.

So then we were on a roll. Now non-urgent visits would continue to be free and urgent visits would be charged a flat rate of £10. Then my colleague chipped in that, better still, if it turned out that you hadn't been wasting the doctor's valuable time and that you really did have something seriously wrong with you, well then you would get your £10 back.

We both looked at each other and she said "well there's good news and bad news. The good news is 'here's your £10 back', the bad news is ....." and we both burst into fits of laughter ("sorry mate but it's terminal").

Somehow I think our master business plan needs a little fine-tuning!

Like mother like daughter - somewhat!

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am a great rugby fan and love to watch the internationals in particular. For a while, my second son and I were members of the England Rugby Supporters Club and would travel to a match if possible. One particular match, in around 2003 I think, had England playing France in Marseille, so while it was a good trek to get down to Marseille, we were lucky enough to have friends who live in Cavaillon and who were kind enough to put us up the night before.

The nice thing about rugby (apart from the game of course) is the atmosphere and camaraderie, so at a rugby match you never have supporters segregated like you would at a football match - which is the way it should be for heaven's sake - it's supposed to be sport! Anyway, Jordan was about 10 at the time, I would guess, and he and I went to the match in our England shirts but ended up sitting right in the middle of a huge group of French supporters. We could hear them ribbing us in French of course but it was all good natured and we didn't let on that we understood every word they were saying. The look on their faces when this little boy turned round and answered them back in perfect French was sheer bliss!

Now the cockerel is the symbol of France, hence "le coq sportif", and at one particular break in play, when the trumpeters started up, the man sitting next to us pulled a live cockerel out of his backpack and it started crowing like crazy, probably relieved to be out of that bloody back pack.  Was it cruel - probably - but the cock didn't seem to be too much the worse for wear (unlike the French supporter), but it was indeed pretty funny.

When Jordan was about eight he and his friends joined the local rugby club - Rugby Club le Môle, named after the local Môle mountain.

Anyway, Jordan and his friends were only young and it was a great way for them to socialize and get plenty of exercise, and while the parents do end up running around like crazy to get the kids to matches and practice, the atmosphere is always great.

One year, "pap" and "ammie" were over from the States and we took them down to watch Jordan training. It was a scorching hot afternoon so we tried to stay in the shade near the buvette (the little drinks stand). This being France, they didn't only sell coffee and soft drinks, but also wine, beer and probably a few other things hidden surreptitiously behind the counter! So my husband, "pap" and I had a couple of beers, much to the disapproval of "ammie". After a while, of course, I was bursting to pee, so I tootled all the way over to the other side of the grounds to get to the locker rooms, only to realize after I got there that they were locked - of course! So I had to tootle slightly faster back to the buvette to get the key off old pappy behind the bar. Again I tootled back, this time somewhat more urgently, key in hand, and began looking for the loo, only to be horrified at the sight of what are called "toilettes turques" here - I hate the bloody things. I mean I really cannot see any point to them at all and being a woman makes it even worse!

Anyway, I was desperate so after a bit of acrobatic manoeuvering I managed to pee, keeping my feet relatively dry and not falling down the hole. As I got up I grabbed hold of the chain to flush it - and got completely soaked from top to toe! As you can imagine, I didn't really know what to do except trudge my way back to the stands to puzzled looks.When I told my son what had happened he burst out laughing - apparently I had peed in the main shower - the first shower that they go into fully clothed when they are really muddy to wash off as much crap as possible, before stripping and getting into the "real" showers! The toilets were off to the right!

I said before that "ammie" didn't approve of us drinking beer - well she was even less impressed by the state of me when I got back from the loo, I can tell you. Perhaps one too many?

Jordan eventually quit rugby after breaking his collar bone for the third time. His friend Daniel went on playing and is now a young man mountain playing professionally for a local club. I was lucky enough to watch him play on Sunday as the match was on TV and I have to say I am pretty impressed - but then I would be wouldn't I!

Anyhoo, moving seemlssly on, I saw the sad news that comedian Ronnie Corbett had died last week, and while I can't say I was a particular fan, I will leave you with one of his "one-liners" that had me tittering.

"It has today been reported that a van carrying 10 prisoners has collided with a cement lorry on the M25. Police have been warning people to be on the on the look-out for 'hardened criminals'!

Oh dear

As I had posted earlier, my older brother lost his wife totally unexpectedly in January of this year. From what I can gather he is doing pretty well - there are good days and bad days of course but I always felt he would cope nevertheless. Previously he was big into swimming but, for the time being anyway, he didn't feel that he wanted to go back to swimming - maybe later. When I was in Wales for the funeral he mentioned that he felt like he wanted to join a walking group to get him out of the house, so I mentioned the Ramblers. I was talking to him this weekend and he had, indeed, joined the Ramblers and had been on his first walk on the previous Thursday. His description of that walk was hilarious. He said that even at 73 he thought he might have been the youngest of the group, and though he considered himself to be reasonably fit, they were all like "*!**y mountain goats" (his words, not mind)! He couldn't believe it! It was only supposed to be a 4 mile hike so he was thinking it would take just a couple of hours. But NOOOO, it turned into a 6 mile hike "up and down the bloody Welsh mountains". He said these "oldies" just shot off like mountain goats and while everyone was really nice he soon realized exactly how out of his depth he was (to put it politely).

He described one lady as "a Joyce Grenfell type" - anyone who remembers Joyce will know exactly what he meant.

Joyce Grenfell

She seemed to take a shine to him and walked along with him, all the while knitting as she went! He said she had a ball of wool in her pocket and knitted and yacked for the entire walk - not that he was complaining, because he couldn't catch his breath anyway. She was incredibly knowledgeable and explained all the different types of sheep's wool caught in the hedgerows and so on. He couldn't believe that she could walk, knit and talk without skipping a beat or dropping a stick, while he was on his hands and knees discreetly trying to avoid coughing up a lung.

At one point they came across a small bay which he hadn't seen before, and were lucky enough to spot a mother seal and her pups splashing around in the water. Idyllic indeed. His intention was to "pop into ASDA" on the way home to get some groceries, but he ended up going straight home to a hot bath and a glass of whisky, while at the same time realizing how ill prepared he was - the wrong boots, the wrong rucksack, the wrong .... you name it .... and just how unfit he was. He said they were a nice group though, extremely well organized and very friendly and that he will go again, only better prepared!

Funnily enough, when we landed in St. Lucia, waiting in the arrivals hall was a driver holding up a "Ramblers" sign. He was there to pick up a group of Ramblers from the UK who were in St. Lucia for a rambling holiday. Bloody hell, "rambling" in that heat - it was as much as I could do to stagger down to the beach in the mornings!

On an only slightly related note, many, many years ago, when I was a little girl, we were on holiday "down south". We were driving round Dartmoor when my mom said that she was bursting for the loo. I mean, in the middle of Dartmoor all those years ago, what was she expecting? So my dad stopped the car and when she asked where the toilet was he said "20 yards in any direction".

So mom scooted out and went behind a bush for a pee. Trouble was, when she pulled her knickers back up and got up to leave the bush got up at the same time - it was a bunch of soldiers on training exercise. I guess we can mark that exercise a success then!

Spring is sprung!

Or at least I hope so after yesterday's burst of snow. As predicted the snow didn't stick so that's was a relief. I notice from the bus that the magnolias haven't even begun to blossom yet, which is weird because in St. Lucia they had well and truly blossomed. I know it's not exactly the same climate but to me seeing the magnolias in bloom is always a sign of spring. And because I live at 800 m altitude the local magnolias, crocuses, daffs etc. are always that little bit later to bloom than they are here in Geneva.

As I didn't have any plans at lunchtime I thought I would take advantage of our lovely weather and just tootle over the road to the Botanic Gardens. I have to say we are extremely lucky to be located right on Lake Geneva and have the Botanic Gardens immediately opposite. The crocuses and daffs are on their way out and the tulips are trying their best to get in on the show, but aren't quite ready yet. Still it's a lovely spot to sit and read while enjoying this lovely spring weather. Bliss!

Spoke too soon!

Ha - and only yesterday I was saying I didn't mind coming back to France since the weather was so glorious. So what did it do? It started snowing again! Wasn't expecting that at all! When I woke up this morning and raised the black-out curtain in my room (covering the velux in the roof) it looked like it was all frosted over, but when I opened the bathroom shutters it was bucketing down snow. I couldn't believe it. I mean really, really thick snow. Damn! To be honest, I knew it wasn't going to stick and I'm pretty sure that when I get home tonight, while there may still be snow in the fields, there won't be any on the roads - at least that's the plan anyway. The good news is that glorious weather is again forecast for the foreseeable future. I hope so anyway, because I planted my first tomato seeds last weekend and while they are sitting contentedly in front of my living room window, getting more snow really does feel like taking a step backwards!

Anyhooo, moving seamlessly on, one day after coming back from the beach in St. Lucia I realized that my iPad had gone bananas! I had it well wrapped up, inside a bag and sitting in the shade, but when I went to turn it on I got this kind of screen.

I reckoned it must have either got sand in it or maybe had suffered from the heat. So I messed around with it for a bit but there was nothing doing. Bloody hell, there went my chance of taking more pictures etc. and I have to admit I do enjoy maintaining contact "with the outside world" when I am on holiday.  Not to mention the unappealing thought of having to shell out another wad of cash to get a new one on top of the obvious expenses of the holiday.

By now I was resigned to my fate though and since I had a couple of days before I went back to work I thought I could run down to Annecy and pick up a new one. I don't know why but the night before I googled "how to repair an iPad" and there were various Youtube videos purporting to be able to fix it. The problem was, apparently, that there was a loose connection between an internal wire and the screen (or at least, that's the way I understood it) and in two different videos people were saying to "tap gently here" or "tap gently there". I tried both those solutions and it didn't work. Then another video suggested turning the iPad off and dropping it on the floor. Not exactly hurling it off a cliff in a fit of pique (that can always come later) but dropping it from a height of about a foot onto a carpeted floor. So thinking I had nothing to lose anyway that's exactly what I did - and guess what - it worked! I kid you not, the blooming thing is now working again. So you see, those Youtubers were right and I have them to thank for not having to shell out another small fortune for a new iPad. Thanks guys!

Back to the grindstone

Well it's back to work after two weeks off and time to get my nose back to the grindstone. Not that I am complaining as the weather here is beautiful, except maybe 30 degrees cooler than St. Lucia!

March seems to be the best time of year for me to take time off, firstly from a personal point of view because it gives me a break from the winter and secondly, from a professional point of view, because work starts gearing up after March.

Since it is the ski season here Easyjet do flights to Geneva from a larger number of U.K. airports so in the winter I am lucky enough to be able to get a flight Geneva/Bournemouth for a very reasonable price. Bournemouth airport being only about 30 minutes from my sister's home is therefore great for me. I got to see my 94-year-old mom a couple of times. The conversation is very repetitive of course and to be honest I'm not sure she even realizes I was there but it was good to see her and she looked well. On the Sunday we went down to Weymouth to watch quad bike racing, starting with the youngsters. It was fun to watch, although I suspect an expensive hobby. We were lucky with the weather, which was lovely and sunny although bitterly cold and windy - a great way to get a free facial peeling with all that sand being thrown around!

On the Monday I caught the bus down to London in order to spend the night at Gatwick before an early morning flight to St. Lucia. Since I was the only passenger on the bus I got chatting to the driver. He was from Slovakia so we were discussing the upoming referendum on whether or not the U.K. should stay in the EU. With me living in France I would say we both have vested interests in the results of that referendum.

When I got to Gatwick I checked into the Premier Inn at the north terminal and again I was impressed with the efficiency and the overall experience. Again food for thought was that at least 50 per cent of the staff there seemed to be Polish and both the Brits and the Poles really did hustle.The experience was a very positive one and for me at least a great counterbalance to all the negative "anti-immigration" articles you see in much of the gutter press. I have my own views and opinions on the "in-out" debate and will vote as I see fit, but feel that no-one can truly know what would happen in the event of an "out" vote until and if that happens, just as would have been the case with the Scottish referendum. I would be allowed to remain in France in any case and would most likely request French citizenship in the event of an "out" vote but I'm not so sure how things would work out, for instance, for the many British expats living in other EU countries. I guess only time will tell.

On the Tuesday morning I got up and got showered to go to the airport in good time and thought I should just give my hair a burst of hairspray to try to maintain some sense of "polish" (ha - me?) for when I got to the other end. I grabbed a big can of hairspray that I had picked up at home - and proceeded to spray bright blue shaving cream all over myself and the bedspread. Bloody hell - I must have picked up my son's shaving cream by mistake. Cue a mad rush to get washed and showered again and dash over to the airport for my flight!

Once again I travelled with a group of people travelling solo and was not disappointed. There are always a couple of people who you maybe don't gel with but the majority are always, if not fun to be with, at least interesting. Our tour guide Paula was an absolute gem. Not sure I could do that job personally as some people are just downright pains in the you-know-what, but she didn't let it phase her and she turned out to be a wonderful (and very thoughtful) person.

On day two idiot-here spent too long in the Caribbean sun lolling in the sea and got burnt, which meant staying out of the sun for the remainder of the holiday. That'll learn ya! Or maybe not. It seems to be par for the course for me every time. Will I ever learn?

We got to visit a Lucian rain forest and were entertained by a lovely lady called "Mama" who showed us some of the older remedies and traditional "cures", which I find fascinating.

"Mama"

I also got "bullied" by K to sign up for the helicopter tour and zip lining!!!!  I can't believe it.  I really didn't fancy the helicopter tour - or should I say I don't mind the idea of a helicopter ride as long as it doesn't take off! On top of that, I guess I was expecting a bloody Chinook that would seat 20 to 30 people so you can imagine how I felt when I saw the six-seater waiting for us! Yikes!  I have to say though that the ride was very smooth (thank God) and we did get a bird's eye view of the island, although for obvious reasons it was pretty expensive. Still, I guess you have to do it once in your life.

The Pitons seen from the helicopter

As I said, mad K also bullied me into zip lining. I can't believe I let her do that to me. The night before I didn't sleep a wink as I had visions of throwing myself off something resembling the Empire State Building but it turned out to be nothing like that. When we got to the rain forest they made us put hair nets under our crash helmets to avoid anyone's hair getting tangled up in the zip line and effectively scalping them! Nice thought eh. So to be honest, when we went up in the gondola we actually looked more like flying dinner ladies than intrepid she-warriers. We were well harnessed up and the two young women leading the group did an excellent job. We went up to 1,200 feet and (I believe) the total zip was just over a kilometre long, spread out over eight zips - I'm not sure really as I had my eyes closed for the first three zips! But you know, it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be and I ended up actually enjoying it. In fact, I think I would do that again rather than the helicopter ride, to be honest.

 

Marigot Bay - where Dr. Doolittle was filmed

So all in all, yet again a lovely way to spend a vacation. The food was pretty good, if expensive, the island is beautiful and the people very friendly. On top of that I met some interesting and fun people, a couple of whom I think I will stay in touch with, as has been my experience on previous trips. So now I've got to knuckle down and get back to work - and dream of the next place I want to visit. You know, my bucket list of places to visit keeps getting longer with every trip I do - funny that.

I spent a total of 35 hours start to finish getting back home (including a rather long layover in London) but hey, that's the way the cookie crumbles if you want to go on these far-flung holidays.