Hospitality near and far

Building a Killington Dream Lodge, part 20

On frequent weekends and vacation, Dad added sheathing to the outside walls, second hand windows in the bedrooms, and new Portland Glass picture windows across the front of our Killington dream lodge. Sturdy repurposed wooden doors from N.J. offices graced our house. (I helped when here, but sometimes joined a boyfriend hiking and skiing at Killington, Stowe, Pinkham Notch, and Mount Washington when he drove up from Montclair.)

In the fall I left for Brattleboro, an hour and half drive south of Killington. The International Career Training Graduate Program began with six months on the campus of the School for International Training, part of the Experiment in International Living. A year-long internship followed, then three months on campus as the grand finale.

My classmates had vast experience overseas in the Peace Corps, C.A.R.E., the United Nations and other human service organizations. Cross-cultural experiential exercises trained us to observe and be sensitive to other cultures.

We examined social justice and Third World needs like safe water, food security, rural healthcare, education, cottage industry, sustainable development and refugee resettlement. The goal? To design replicable solutions that respected and involved diverse populations in impoverished communities. Our intensive program was enlightening and challenging. It improved my critical thinking skills and dramatically expanded (and overturned!) how I looked at the world.

I returned to Europe for an internship in Germany as assistant director of summer programs and receptionist at Schiller College headquarters in Schloß Kleiningersheim (Little Home of the Kings). The castle was perched above vineyards overlooking the peaceful misty Neckar River.

I practiced German and French every day, answering calls and greeting visitors. I also proposed and helped plan summer programs. Dr. Walter Leibrecht, brilliant theologian and educator, started the college as an alternative to German higher education after his son’s friend committed suicide. Qualifying tests for university were so stressful and difficult he created what became Schiller International University, a haven for students from many nations on campuses across Europe and in Dunedin, Florida.

Dr. Leibrecht sent me to share my Schiller experience at international schools across Switzerland before Christmas. One weekend between visits, I drove up from Zurich to a hamlet past Einsiedeln where a small ski area stood. On the way up the twisting mountain road, a light snowfall turned into a blizzard. I couldn’t turn around. The road was too narrow. I could barely see so I crept along as darkness fell.

Through the snow in my headlights, a faint yellow glow appeared. I stopped to see what it was—fortunately, a Swiss farmhouse. I banged on the door. It opened. I entered into the warmth and said, “Guten Abend. I’m looking for the Einsiedeln youth hostel.”

“Gibts keine. I’m sorry. We have no Jugendherberg. You are welcomed to stay with us.”

The kindness and hospitality of those total strangers, an older couple and their young grandson, meant far more than a bed to me—refuge from a dangerous storm, bitter cold, and their heart-felt friendship.

Snuggled under a down comforter, I admired the chalet’s wooden ceiling and walls, reminiscent of our dream lodge back home. Sometime soon we’d sleep upstairs, too, and dream of the snowfall on Killington’s slopes.

I skied the next day near their chalet. The sparkling fresh snow and cobalt blue sky reminded me of Vermont but the powder was deep, there was no ice, and the altitude was higher in the Alps. We bid “auf Wiedersehn” after supper, and promised one another we’d keep in touch.

I spent Christmas with Hans and his family in northern Germany, then I joined Christine and Herbert in Austria for New Year’s festivities and a formal dinner in Schloß Eggenberg (now a UNESCO World Heritage Site). I danced the polka and Virginia reel on Styrian television with the governor.

I missed my parents far away but treasured new memories with my European “families.”

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Killington and Bradenton, Florida. She loves to hear from her readers at jilldyestudio@aol.com.