The scent of potatoes, onions, and oil always filled my Geneva apartment. In the morning when Phillipp cooked his German rösti, the smell of grated, fried potatoes and onions blended with the aroma of coffee. At lunch, Matt frequently burned his typical British dish of cubed red potatoes, onions, and meat. In the evening, Sayouba prepared his traditional Burkina Faso stews, always beginning by sautéing potatoes and …showed first 75 words of 602 total…

…showed last 75 words of 602 total…cross-cultural opportunities living in Geneva offered me. My friends asked questions about the rituals and chuckles as they struggled to read along in the French transliterations of the prayers. Over a dinner of Chanukah latkes, my international roommates, my Swiss university friends, and I laughed and shared stories about our own families' traditions and holidays. Students from almost every continent sat together not as people from different nationalities, religions, or political views, but as friends.