I’ve barely had time to draw breath and already I find myself down 1 of my 5 months here in Switzerland. Time, it seems, has its nefarious way of drawing those long days at home, stuck waiting for the next trip, into great battles against the clock, whereas these times when we want to hold that second hand back for just a moment, to enjoy the taste of the Alpine air just a moment more, seem to slip by without so much as a “How ya doing”. Anyway, it seems as good a time as any to take stock on how it is to return to a place as influential to one’s self as KISC, and to realise that how no matter how experienced a traveller you may think you are, or how confident you may be, you can always be assured to learn anew with each trip.
If I was one to believe in omens, the issues I faced travelling here would have boded poorly. Having picked to travel from England to Switzerland via Brussels airport, 2 days before my departure date I was informed that my flight had been cancelled and I would have to travel a few hours later in the day. This unfortunately meant that I would miss the last train to Kandersteg, and would have to spend the night in Geneva airport. No biggy.
However, that was just the start. With a brief 50 minute transfer period at Brussels planned, it began to dawn on me that this may be a somewhat optimistic approach. Throw in a half hour delay in taking off from Birmingham and then general chaos at Brussels security and my fate was sealed – not even my famed sprint across the terminal could save my seat on the plane. I must send my apologies to anyone I may have knocked over between the security and gate 64 as I charged through at full pace – your pain was for naught, bar a sweaty brow that was then draped across the customer services desk (for which the lady behind the screen must be applauded for providing me with a towel to dry myself with). This very same lady then profusely apologised for the discomfort I’d suffered, offered me a free stay in the airport hotel for the night, and a seat on the first plane out the next day. Considering I was intending on sleeping on the floor in Geneva airport, this actually improved my deal significantly, and so I bounded out of the airport doors with a slight smirk. There, I was greeted with the cold stare of several assault-rifle wielding soldiers, beards and biceps all worn as threateningly as the guns themselves. In stepping out I was given a visceral reminder of the horror that had unleashed itself upon the airport and the wider Brussels city just a month previous; the security forces were all around, shepherding and harrying any soul who may have dained to stay still for too long.The path to the hotel had been rerouted through deserted car parks and down eerie corridors, and so it was with relief that I eventually found my room and could rest my head for the night.
As I was penning this blog, I wrote “The next day was far smoother”, however as I then actually remembered the events of that day I realised this was most certainly not the truth. Having woken at 5 to catch the first plane to Geneva that morning, my luggage had decided a lie in would be a more appropriate use of its time, and instead caught a flight 3 hours later than me. Once I was finally reunited with my worldly possessions for the next 5 months, I then started what would be my favourite part of the trip – the train journey firstly East to Bern and then down South to Kandersteg. Passing through the organised green meadows and lowlands, I slowly infiltrated the ever rising mountains, with great slabs of rock rising menacingly on all sides around me, and eventually arrived at the sharply contained and constructed village that I would be calling home for the next 2 seasons.
Arriving back at KISC after an extended break is an odd experience. Ignoring for now the remarkable difference the seasons make in a physical sense (in terms of snow etc), the reality of returning to somewhere as defining and integral to one’s personality is always going to be a challenge. This challenge is only magnified by the extraordinarily odd experience of the centre operating in (largely) the same way as when you left, but with the faces of those doing said operating all being different. Imagine going to your family home, and whilst all your furniture is the same, instead of it being your sibling sat in the sofa or your parent in the kitchen cooking your favourite dinner, it is a set of complete strangers. Each season forms such a close connection to the centre, but that connection is invariably linked to the people with which they formed the connection, and so to lose one risks losing the other. And indeed, the first few days I was back at KISC I feared I had made a poor decision in returning – with no close friends still at the centre, and a small legion of staff all already a month into knowing each other closely, it was a challenging period. <p>
However, this feeling soon faded. I would like to think that I couldn’t be accused of not throwing myself sufficiently into new social situations, and so it proved that once you start to learn who all the new faces are, and the type of people they are, you soon settle in with the new surroundings. This feeling of unease is similar to that you may feel when you start a new job, or perhaps when you turn up at a hostel in a foreign land. With no background for people to judge you from, it is your responsibility to work out who you are, and the how you are going to portray yourself to these new people. I actually now think it is an incredibly useful (if painful) exercise to go through – in starting from zero you can provide yourself the space to grow into relationships in new ways, and use everything you have learnt from previous experiences in then being the person you want to be.
KISC operates on a seasonal basis – every 3 months, a new raft of Short Term Staff (Shorties) arrive, and these people do the work “on the ground”. What this means depends on the season in which they are working; for Spring and Autumn, it primarily means a lot of work on the infrastructure at the centre, be it deep cleaning or campsite preparation. Winter is busier in terms of guest numbers, with a moderately sized skiing area nearby enticing people to stay, but it is in Summer that the centre truly comes alive in terms of guests. As such, arriving in the Spring season reveals a different side to the centre to the one I experienced last Summer. The emphasis on providing services towards guests is largely removed, and instead renovation and staff development is the name of the game. The staff team is much smaller (8 shorties compared to 33 in Summer), and thus that much tighter and close-knit. It has been a real treat to be allowed to join this group and really get to know each of them in a way that just isn’t possible in Summer, and I’m genuinely sad about the prospect of them leaving in just a few weeks. Of course, a new larger cohort will arrive and then the fun starts all over again – new faces, new games to play, and new challenges to be faced.
Another aspect of KISC which I have now had a chance to experience is the incorporation of work parties at the centre. These groups of Scouts (all of one nationality) arrive at the centre for a week of helping out in cleaning and preparing the site, but get so much more out of it than just that. The UK, Slovakians and Dutch all have one (or two) each, with the “Dutch Chainsaw Party” being quite frankly the most fantastic/terrifying name for a group I’ve heard in a long time. It is however the Spanish Work Party that must hold the title for the most anticipated work party of all. In almost all my experiences with the Spanish, they somehow prove themselves to be the wildest, most energetic, craziest nationalities of all. Something about putting a group of them together seems to ignite a spontaneous creation of energy, First Law of Thermodynamics be damned. They party harder and later than anyone else I’ve met, they play more games and sing louder than any others (well, perhaps the Portuguese can challenge them for that last spot…), and they are generally just a ball to be around. The traditional Spanish vs Pinkies football game was a battle royale, and the infamous Spanish Work Party party lived up to all expectations – with sangria flowing and much mingling between all participants, it is everything I expected and more. Long may the strong ties between KISC and the Spanish continue.
As I said at the start, a month has flown by with what can accurately be described as intimidating speed. It is only in writing this post that I have actually taken a second to consider all that has happened, and in doing so allow myself the time to really process how it occurred and what it meant to me. It is so easy to be drawn into the full bloodied cry and plow forward into the next challenge without so much as a backward glance as to what took you to this spot, but not doing so risks losing valuable lessons. The next 3 months are going to be full on, fun, and frivolous, but undoubtedly with challenges that will test me to the extreme. As we peer over that perilous edge that separates us from the madness of Summer, I believe the ropes tied to me will prevent me slipping to an unfortunate fate at the bottom – an apt feeling considering I am High Adventure Assistant! I hope that whatever challenge you may be facing you feel as confident and secure in yourself as you can be, and if you don’t – be sure to reach out and grab a friend.
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