{"id":5310,"date":"2024-12-02T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2024-12-02T07:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/?p=5310"},"modified":"2024-12-04T10:22:50","modified_gmt":"2024-12-04T09:22:50","slug":"all-the-colours-in-my-world","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/2024\/12\/all-the-colours-in-my-world\/","title":{"rendered":"All the Colours in My World"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Image: <\/strong>\u00a9 Leah Didisheim<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Author<\/strong>: Leah Didisheim<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Orange. That\u2019s the first colour I think about. But not this bright industrial, lifeless orange. This natural autumnal orange. Then perhaps blue, green and yellow. These are not even my favourite colours. And yet, they have to be the most beautiful colours in the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It usually starts on an early Saturday morning. Early for a Saturday that is. The drive to go there is long and the breaks too. Well, it really depends on who\u2019s driving the car. My uncle in his Tesla and with his hatred of the too-many-long-breaks that my dad loves gets there before the rest of us. You see, my dad is kinda like me. Well, mostly in the sense that he likes his rituals, his routine and that he dislikes waking up early and hurrying up. So, usually we aim to leave at eight thirty in the morning to pick my grandma up and leave from her place at around nine. Of course, that\u2019s never before my dad patted himself on the back for being so amazing at putting all the suitcases in the trunk as optimally as he did. And then, when we\u2019re all in the car, when you might think \u201cok, they\u2019re finally starting the trip!\u201d, of course my dad wants to make the first stop after forty-five minutes to have breakfast in the Grauholz<\/em>. The others stopped wanting to meet there when the food started to be really bad. They never really wanted to go in the first place, it was way too close from home, and only one break in the middle is better. But for my dad, it\u2019s just part of the holidays, so there really is no going without stopping there. There\u2019s no point arguing, I\u2019ve tried, trust me. I always pretend to be grumpy because it means putting my shoes back on, turning off my music, but really, I think seeing him lighting up just because he\u2019s getting his mediocre croissant, chocolate bar and tasteless coffee \u2013 and by the way he agrees with the rest of us on the taste \u2013 is adorable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After that, we\u2019re really gone this time. I usually start to doze off right when it\u2019s time for the next break at around one in the afternoon in Heidiland<\/em>; a place where we are just getting food that\u2019s too expensive. We join the rest of my family sitting at a table, their plates already empty and about to leave, but they were waiting to say hi. So again it\u2019s just me, my dad and my grandma. We can\u2019t realistically have this lunch without my dad complaining about how his r\u00f6stis aren\u2019t cooked enough but after he had asked the cook to fry them some more about three times he wasn\u2019t going to ask again. And also, it\u2019s so greasy. And not that good. But I couldn\u2019t resist. I should\u2019ve taken a salad. Next time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It’s about two-three more hours before my heart races again. And that\u2019s usually not counting the yearly argument I have with my dear father about the correct direction to follow. You see, we go there every year. And we have for about twenty years. So, you\u2019d think my dad would know the way by now. But every time, I want him to put the GPS on just to make sure \u2013 and I check on my phone anyway when he says no \u2013 and every time he assures me that he knows the way. Of course, that\u2019s overlooking every time we almost ended up in Italy by mistake. But the signs are almost invisible, it\u2019s impossible not<\/em> to make a mistake. Well, the rest of my family must be exceptional then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then, the final mountain pass arrives. I recognise every turn. The larches aren\u2019t orange yet, but they will at the end of the week. Even the grey rocks are beautiful to me. At the top of the mountain, there is this tower, somewhat famous and I smile because I already know the story my grandma is about to tell my dad. Yes, this tower, one time Fran\u00e7ois and I went to see a play there. Really? Well, yes really dad, grandma says it every year. I really just say this last bit in my head, though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just thirty more minutes. I can almost see the hotel, no; the castle we\u2019ll be staying in. And the blue lake is still there. And the grass, the rainbow forest. And there, there I finally feel like not everything is lost. There, finally, nature is the main character again. Here, I feel warm despite the dry air that makes your throat cough. In a few days, everything will be gold. And that\u2019s how I know everything is perfect again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My grandma used to come to the same place when she was a child. They know us so well there, it really feels more like home than like a hotel. That\u2019s where my grandma looks happiest since my grandpa died. And I think that\u2019s where I am too. There are only huge windows all around the living room so that it feels like we\u2019re outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the past, when we were just the three generations and not the four we are now, we used to go do what we call Tor\u00e9es<\/em>. We\u2019d go to the local supermarket to buy meat, bread and chocolate. And in what felt like the middle of the forest for ten-year-old me, one of my cousins starts grilling the meat while other people from my family walk some more, some draw on notebooks near the water, some read. The sky is shining bright. The larches are multiple shades of greens, oranges, yellows and reds. The lake is its bluest self. And as I sit on the rock, facing all of these colours, the sun on my face, my family talking behind me, the smell of warm food getting ready, I am truly and utterly happy. I just feel at peace in a world that usually gives me so much anxiety. There, I can finally recharge. Here, I can finally breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My new favourite activity though \u2013 since we stopped the Tor\u00e9es<\/em>, I had to find a new one \u2013 is the horse-drawn carriage. I shamelessly endorsed the role of the paparazzi with my grandma in front of me and my baby cousins that I keep photographing on both my sides. We always ride it to go to the best r\u00f6stis restaurant higher in the mountain. The rest of my family walks there but I just love the carriage too much to ever stop. This road is right in the middle of the colourful trees with the blue sky right above us. Even the smell of the horses I look forward to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, I guess my last favourite thing, other than drinking warm tea and eating cake while reading a good book at one of the window tables of the gigantic living room, with classical music in the background, other than debating on what food we\u2019re going to choose from the menu this evening with my uncle, and even other than working for university in the hotel library, is the minigolf we do right behind the hotel, under the trees. I never win and I probably never will, but in the cold nature right here, resting on my golf club \u2013 while my cousin shoots her minigolf ball, while my dad and my aunt argue because my dad moved the leaves on the minigolf course after everyone else shot their minigolf ball with the leaves on, which is just so unfair of you frankly. And you always do this. Either we change it for everyone before, or no one changes a thing. Alright, alright, I\u2019ll stop doing it \u2013 while the needle-like leaves fall gently from the trees to the rhythm of the wind on my cheeks, I know I won something so much more precious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could tell you about everything else. About how when we come back home, so it doesn\u2019t feel like we\u2019ve really left just yet, we have Bolognese spaghettis all together at my uncle\u2019s house. Or about the bird path we go to with the children to feed the birds. Or about how they offer painting lessons there and every Thursday evening the children present their pieces in the corridor that goes to the dining room to show everyone which brightens my heart when I look at my baby cousins\u2019 paintings, just like my parents used to look at my ones when I was little. Or about how my grandpa\u2019s birthday was always close to that week, so we\u2019ve often celebrated his birthday here, including one of his last ones. But in the end, all of these memories, all of these natural colours will always be right here, in these mountains. And that\u2019s really all I need, writing this from my desk at home, with the cold grey rain pouring just outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Comments by the jury:<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“This was a lovely cozy autumn read! … I thought that the use of internal language and the mixing of indirect speech was so well done and contributed to the feeling of an event known by heart, in which you find safety.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The writer beautifully articulates the joy and frustrations of family holidays. It\u2019s a story infused with nostalgia, and a familiar one to every reader.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Image: \u00a9 Leah Didisheim Author: Leah Didisheim Orange. That\u2019s the first colour I think about. But not this bright industrial, lifeless orange. This natural autumnal orange. Then perhaps blue, green and yellow. These are not even my favourite colours. And yet, they have to be the most beautiful colours in the world. It usually starts […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1002883,"featured_media":5311,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[82],"tags":[37,83],"class_list":{"0":"post-5310","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-2024-winter","8":"tag-prose","9":"tag-short-story-competition-people-and-places"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5310","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1002883"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5310"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5310\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5494,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5310\/revisions\/5494"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5311"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5310"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5310"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5310"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}