Geneva: Specifically, Garet loves comics

Allow me now a brief interlude in which I will talk about comic books.

I started reading manga in middle school – I was already that kind of weird kid who didn’t exactly fit the mainstream, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch into nerdom. Manga and anime remained my main sources of entertainment for the better part of three years until I ran into the Runaways.

Runaways was my first American comic and the dysfunctional group of teens from Los Angeles – not so different from my own friends and me excepting the whole “super powers” thing – converted me to the religion of Marvel. I’ve never even thought about going back.

I have a routine back home: every Wednesday I go to Comic Odyssey for my weekly dose of heroine. New comics come out on Wednesdays and it’s a rare thing for me to miss. The boys who work at Comic Odyssey know me so well they can predict what I’m going to buy; we’ve had long debates about which superhero would win in a fight against another superhero and it often ends in a tirade from me about the Green Lantern and how irritating or useless he is. It’s a routine. It’s comfortable. I love it.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a comic book store in Switzerland?

So when Sara gave us four hours in Geneva to do whatever we wanted, Geneva found me combing the internet and then combing the streets for the only comic book store in the city: Au Paradoxe Perdu. In English, that translates to “The Lost Paradox,” which makes about as much sense as Rob Liefeld being one of the most successful comic book artists of all time (if you don’t understand that reference, please, go read this.) Au Paradoxe Perdu was this little place on the corner of a square about ten minutes from our hotel – a seriously lucky break on my end – with big windows you couldn’t see through because of the bookshelves that blocked the way, and bargain bins out front filled with direct editions and TPBs. Inside, I was at home for one of the first times since moving to Switzerland. At home in a room filled with stacks of comics, bookshelves bursting with them, action figures and figurines perched in glass cases, and nerdy t-shirts hanging from the ceiling. Best of all? These were American comics. In English. I could actually read them.

I spent the next hour and a half squeezed between bookshelves in Au Paradoxe Perdu flipping through comics and thanking God for this little moment of familiarity after months of staring at the Marvel website in envy and frustration over the books I wouldn’t be able to get my hands until Christmas.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: while traveling for long periods of time the way the writers we’re studying traveled, a little piece of home goes a really long way. That familiarity can take a weight off your shoulders and put a bounce in your step after months of classes, struggling to communicate in a language you don’t understand, and – in one way or another – traveling.