The Gemeinschaftszentren

Last night at 1:30, Dennis and I awoke to the most outrageous noise.  I wasn't thinking straight at all, but stumbled around, following Dennis's lead of closing up all of our louvered windows. Finally, I realized what was making the racket: enormous chunks of ice, well over the size of a quarter, banging against the metal blinds on the outside of our house.  It seemed to go on forever, and through the closed blinds I could see bright flashes of lightning, in rapid succession.

It was so impressive that I wanted to capture it, but...well, did I mention that I was a little fuzzy?  This, apparently, was the best I could do.

So you'll just have to take my word for it: it was a storm like none I'd ever seen.  And I've had my fair share of storms in Ohio and Texas.

The leafy aftermath of the storm: it was like this all over the city.

Joey joins the morning commuters

Eventually the hail turned into rain and we were able to get back to sleep (wondering, drowsily, how the kids had managed to sleep through the noise: it can only be a miracle). And it was still raining in the morning when we woke up, and temperature was much, much cooler. It let up long enough for the kids to go to school without umbrellas, but it was pretty wet, again, when it was time for Joey and me to leave for our integration class.

"Where? Where?"

Of course, with the lousy weather, the trams and trains were extra crowded and a little bit late.

When our second tram finally showed up (after several minutes of Joey chanting "Where? Where Number 4? Where?") Joey took off for it at a dash and scooted on before me: I, with our stroller, got caught in the crush.  When I pushed on a couple of seconds later, he was halfway down the train, pushing his tiny way through the crowd, calling "Where?! Where seat? WHERE?" Thank goodness, he froze when I called his name and paid attention when I called him back, maneuvering his way back through the crowd, but still asking, with slight indigence  "Where? Where my seat?" with his lower lip out, a look he's perfected over the last few weeks.  Poor Joey, he had to settle for the stroller.

Today's class took us to a Gemeinschaftszentren, a community center, also called a GZ. We went to the center in Riesbach, close to China Garten and Zurich Horn, which the kids and I have been to several times.  But, other than a bathroom stop, we'd never really been inside the center, so I was happy to have a tour.

All hundred or so women from the integrations class, with all our different languages, were visiting the center together, and they began the session with a painfully slow introduction, in which our tour guide spoke and then, every second sentence, paused so our various instructors could translate, after which the entire room would burst into conversation as our minds wandered or stray conversations were resumed.  We're not a very orderly bunch. Except for the English speakers: we were silent and sat up straight, because our instructor has us firmly in hand.

There aren't many garages in Zürich for the garage bands.
Here's an alternative, for which, I'll bet, many
parents must be grateful

She's laughably strict, and she's constantly slipping in lectures on proper behavior and etiquette.  For example, we began our tour in the Jungenkeller, the youth cellar. At one point not long ago at all, bomb shelters were standard for public buildings.  But the Swiss have finally acknowledged that they're relatively safe these days, and they've started converting their cellars, in this case, into a pool hall and disco and music room for teenagers.  How genius is that, sequestering the teens in the soundproof bomb shelter?

But our teacher kind of glossed over translating of the description of youth programs that I could half make out, instead delivering an extensive lecture on how, were we to use such a room, it must be returned in precisely the same conditioned, floor vacuumed, instruments put neatly away.  Yes, ma'am!

And the same went for the Keramikwerkstatt (the ceramics room) and the Werkatelier (the wood shop).  Because we were receiving our cleaning instructions, our little group fell behind and only caught the tail end of the tour of the craft rooms. But our teacher gladly improvised, instructing us on how we must carefully pay attention to where things come from and return materials to their proper places.

Indeed, all of the materials were incredibly organized, and the craft rooms were such incredible, welcoming spaces, and shelves filled with kid projects: Ella would love this, I knew.  So I hunted down our official tour guide, who explained that the work rooms were only for kids aged 6 and over.  When I explained that I had two little boys as well, he said that wouldn't be a problem: there was always in instructor on site during open hours, who would be able to watch and help Ella, were I to drop her off. There are two open sessions, on Wednesday afternoon (when all of the kids of Zürich are out of school for a teacher's work period) and Sunday morning; for 5 CHF per session, kids and grown-ups alike can create with wood or clay to their heart's content, although for particularly large projects there can be a small surcharge for materials.  Amazing. Especially considering the hundreds of dollars the UC Berkeley ceramics studio used to charge for drop-in privileges.

In the top floor of the community center was a Pestalozzi Bibliothek, a private library.  As with most of the libraries in Zürich, to use the Pestalizzi libraries you must pay an annual fee, of 45 CHF per year, I believe.  That alone wouldn't keep me from using the facilities, but the fact that they're so inconvenient to our house does.  I'm bad enough about returning books on time when I can load all my heavy books and my kids into my minivan and drive the two miles.  I fear that the books would never make it back in time if the trip to the library required an hour-long commute with three children.  Not to mention, the library hours are sparse and inconvenient: this one, for example, is only open from 2:00-5:00 most days, and is closed completely on Sundays and Mondays.

All the same, I'm regretful that I haven't been to a library in so long. Back in Kirkland, I once bumped up against the 100-item limit, what with the piles of books I haul home for the kids, in addition to my own little stack of good intentions.

With the school year continuing to wind down, Ella brought home a large stack of artwork. We've gotten very little in the way of papers and school work, in any form back all year, and so I'm expecting a bit of a flood in these last few days.  Happily, we have some new decorations for our walls.

Ella's particular favorite: she tells me she
was one of only three kids who got
a star on this project.  It's interesting,
how stingy teachers are with praise here.
But it's certainly more meaningful when
it's passed out.  Ella was so proud.

I was ramping up for an expedition to the Technorama science musuem, something I'd been saving for a rainy day, but the rain changed from drizzle to sheets.  And Joey's mood similarly  grew more stormy.  So I dumped out a box of legos for Ella and Alex, and I took Joey into bed for some story time.  He was fast asleep after two and a half Mr. Men books.  (British comedy often has a similar effect on me.)

Ella and Alex were completely happy, and so I sank into my own rainy-day bliss of coffee and a novel.

As soon as the rain let up, I booted Ella and Alex outside for some fresh air (but stuck to my book, myself....shh! Don't tell!). Predictably, they came back in under ten minutes, regaling me with tales of their incredible journeys and adventures. They were exhausted! So tired! So completely wiped out! Soooo....could they play computer games now?

Well, no, they couldn't.  I sent them back outside until the rain started up again: this time, when they came back, they had a little tagalong: nochElla and Alex tucked into a marathon board game session, while my Ella worked on a pop-up book that she started making recently, a little fairy tale story with figurines that the reader can move around the pop-up scenery as the story progresses. I love my creative kids.

All was quiet until Alex appeared at my side, all wide and eager blue eyes, asking me if he could please go to nochElla's house for a playdate. He was so nervous and excited about being asked that he clearly didn't want to press his luck: he asked if he could stay for all of seven minutes. I told him I thought he might be able to stay a little longer, even.

I'd told Ella and Alex to be home by 5:30: they came home on the dot, escorted by their friends, all four flushed and happy from an afternoon of playing with Paul's super-cool toy robot, followed by playing at pirates.  I'm a little sorry I missed it, but only a little: I got to finish a novel, two cups of coffee and many, many cookies before Joey woke up.  Mmmmmm.