Tales of an Expat Hausfrau

Carnival in the Black Forest

2007-02-22T13:59:00.000+01:00

We headed up north to the Black Forest last weekend to catch up with the in-laws and see how this Catholic corner of Germany celebrates Carnival. The little town of Bonndorf has the most elaborate Carnival parade in the region, symbolized by the Pflumeschlucker, or plum gobblers. Legend has it that when the people of Bonndorf were introduced to the plum, they swallowed the fruit whole, pit and all.

Along with the troupe of Pflumeschlucker, there were bands of witches, pirates, and cute forest creatures like bears, frogs and snails. It all seemed very traditional and quaint as they threw candy out to all the kiddies.

Then some wild elements came out. A biker gang ran around pouring shots of Jack Daniels for adult on-lookers. My in-laws enjoyed shots of Eierliquor, a sort of German egg nog, served in mini, chocolate-covered ice cream cones. A fearsome group of Scots grabbed girls out of the crowd, flung them over their shoulders and stuffed them in a giant spinning barrel full of sawdust, which was mounted on their float. My husband was grabbed from behind by a wily witch who shoved confetti down his shirt. She just wanted to get her hands on him!

Overall, it was a big hoot. I loved all the interaction with the crowd. There was a lot of fun, mischievous energy, and you didn't know what to expect next. The town of Bonndorf was cute, clean and picture-perfect.

Black Forest travel tip: If you're ever in the area, for Carnival or any other time of year, I highly recommend a restaurant called Tannenmühle. It's basically a trout farm and smoke house that served the best smoked trout you will ever eat. It really is to die for.

A very good day

2007-02-16T18:03:00.000+01:00

Do you ever have a day where everything just clicks? Things look up? Nothing could dampen your mood? I just had one of those. These were the high points:

1) It was gloriously sunny all day, and I spent a good part of it strolling about town, soaking it in
2) I met a sweet, old man named Hans at the park and held up my end of a one-hour conversation in German with him. I understood 75-80 percent of what he said. Woo-hoo! We covered a lot of subjects - the many merits of living in Switzerland, American politics and bad, bad Mr. Bush, staying healthy in old age, our families and our careers.
3) I filed an invoice for my first published article since I quit my job one year ago. Back in the saddle, baby!
4) We're leaving tomorrow for a weekend in the Black Forest with the in-laws. We'll be there for Fasnacht (Carnival), and I'm told they go all out for it there.

Global warming bites

2007-02-06T11:49:00.000+01:00

I'm sad to report that global warming put a real damper on our ski week in Grindelwald last week. The slopes of Grindelwald, a resort town in the heart of the Swiss Alps, offered three kinds of skiing terrain while we were there: ice, muddy ice and grassy mud. Not too appealing, which is why we cut the week short and returned home two days early.

We were hopeful that a snow storm the previous week would improve conditions, but the new snow either melted under all the sunshine or never reached Grindelwald. I felt especially sorry for the skiiers who travelled from Asia, Canada and other far off places to be there. I found myself dreaming of the vast slopes of Lake Tahoe and the view of sparkling blue water from its run. Ahhh, California.

The week was not a total loss though. In addition to a day or two of skiing, I discovered the thrills and spills of sledding. I'd never been sledding before. It was fantastic once I learned, well semi-learned, to steer and brake. I only flew off my sled a couple times! The Swiss take sledding more seriously than we do in the US. There are sled runs as long as ski runs, and you can take the lifts to get to the top. There's still a bit of trekking required, but all in all a very good time.

The other thing that saved the week was the company. Lots of good times playing cards, Uno and Set, watching MTV and cooking up a storm.

Photos from snowy Zurich

2007-01-24T15:02:00.000+01:00

Just back from my walk around town. The snow is still coming down. It must be putting everyone in Zurich is a good mood today. An older, distinguished-looking Swiss man saw me taking pictures and stopped to tell me about the church I was shooting. He was all smiles and questions. This never happens here!

In other exciting news, our swiss drivers licenses came in the mail today and a new lease agreement for our apartment arrived yesterday. (We're currently subleasing.) Looks like we're becoming real locals. It only took 11 months!

Snow!!!

2007-01-24T10:15:00.000+01:00

Woke up this morning to discover the neighborhood is blanketed in snow. I feel giddy. Must be about 3 or 4 inches on the ground. It's funny how you never outgrow that burst of joy you feel as a kid seeing snow in your backyard. Always the possibility of school being cancelled (at least in Oregon). This is the first real snow fall of the winter in Zurich, and it's long overdue. It's also just in time for our ski trip to Grindelwald next week. Can't wait to go take a walk. More pics to come....

Bloggers in Basel

2007-01-15T14:52:00.000+01:00

We ventured to Basel yesterday to meet some fellow expat bloggers living in Switzerland. It was a great group of people and a lot of fun to make some new connections. We must have been close to 30 people. After a tastey lunch, Basel local The Big Finn led us on a walking tour of the city. Looking forward to the next meet-up in Zurich.

Further reading:
The Canadianswiss blog
Expatter
Life is nicht si mal
Global Librarian
The Risse's in Switzerland
The Swiss Job
This Non-American Life

drinking + skating = bad idea

2007-01-14T09:35:00.000+01:00

I think I've sprained my wrist. It happened on Thursday at the skating rink. I was tryinng to teach myself to skate backwards. A Britney Spears song came on and I got a little too frisky. I fell over backwards and landed on my hand - owweee! All that ice makes for a really hard landing. I suppose I shouldn't have been drinking Apfelwein (hard cider) while skating.

I'll try to see a doctor tomorrow. In the meantime, there's no time for mopping over my lame wrist (at least it's the left one.) The hubby and I are off to Basel today to meet about 20 fellow expat bloggers. It's in honor of this occassion that I've been posting so much this week.

Good times in Newcastle

2007-01-12T13:26:00.000+01:00

One of the highlights of our busy holiday itinerary was a trip to Newcastle (aka Newcastle-upon-Tyne). The occasion for the visit was a wedding (the bride is from there). I really didn't know what to expect of the place, so I was pleasantly surprised by its charms.

Newcastle is in Northeast England, near the border with Scotland. It's of course famous for its brown ale and its musical talents (Sting and Dire Straits' Mark & David Knopfler).

What I really liked about it though, was an interesting blend of ancient, industrial-age and modern flavors. It reminded me a little of my hometown, Portland, Ore., in this way. Both are working-class industrial towns that have recently developed a more cosmopolitan side. They also have in common a river and an abundance of bridges and gray skies.

The pubs of course are not to be missed. They are the perfect antidote to winter, so cozy and convivial. I was never a huge fan of Newcastle Brown Ale, but it actually tasted better there. Sadly, many locals prefer exports, namely Miller and Heineken, according to the bride's brother-in-law. At any rate, there's a lot of drinking going on.

Along with the pubs, another fixture of Newcastle are packs of sparsley-clad women roving the streets en route to the pubs. Apparently coats, hats, pants, sleeves or anything actually designed to warm the body are a fashion faux-pas, even in mid-winter. I think my mother-in-law would pass out if she witnessed it.

Another enchanting aspect of Newcastle is its dialect, known as Geordie. I gather it sounds a lot like Scottish. The bride and groom provided us with a guide to Geordie English. I'll leave you with a few jems I especially like:
beastie - small animal
booza - pub
gobby - talkative
hoo- how (hoo ye bin the day?)
manny - young man
netty - toilet
peel off - get rid of
scabby - shabby
tatie - potato

A word about the weather

2007-01-11T11:21:00.000+01:00

I know it's wrong and unnatural, but I'm absolultely euphoric about the weather here in Zurich. This entire week has felt positively spring-like. Yesterday it hit 55 degrees (13 C). The historic average high for this time of year is 36 F. Something is definitely fishy. I have no doubt it's global warming and we're all screwed, but a small, ashamed part of me is rejoicing.

I'm not a big cold weather person. I chill easily. I prefer spring skiing. An accupunturist once told me I "run cold." Being from the West Coast, cold to me is, say, 40 degrees. Snow was a novelty. So when I arrived in Zurich last March to three feet of snow and snow showers throughout March and April, I began to worry. If this was spring, what would winter be like?

But nothing in the weather department has been ordinary since I arrived. August was the coldest on record and July was the hottest. January actually seems milder to me that August was. Oh, what a crazy, mixed-up world!

Uplifting thought of the day

2007-01-10T10:34:00.000+01:00

"There's an old proverb: To learn a new language is to gain a new soul."

I read this in a magazine (Yoga Journal) recently, and I love it. Unfortunately, my efforts at learning German seem to be flagging these days. It's frustrating. I've been here for 10 months and spent wads of cash on German instruction. I just spent a week in a German household where very little English is spoken, but my brain just doesn't seem to be as absorbent as it once was. It's resisting German. Perhaps its gaurding the Italian soul I gained 13 years ago in Siena.

I think what I need to do is shake up my routine. Try something new. Since I'd be really happy if I achieved the vocabulary of my three-year old niece Katja, children's books seem like a good way to go. I started last night with Der Kleine Eisbär. The illustrations really help.

At the suggestion of my German teacher, I'm listening to a lot of Hildegard Knef, a German singer from the 60s. I like her sound. She's got a deep, husky voice, and when she's not channeling Frank Sinatra she's doing Billy Holiday covers - but the words are in German. So today I find myself humming the German version of Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love). I get all the lyrics on Lyrics.de(we help you singin') so I can really follow.

I also just discovered last night, quite by accident, that iTunes is full of free German podcasts. A few of them are for beginners, so I may take a stab at that. Oh, and Christoph and I are trying to speak German to eachother on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We really gave it a shot yesterday. I'd say we did about 50-50. Okay, it was more like 30-70. We'll try it again tomorrow.

Das ist alles für jetzt. Auf wiedersehen.

Literary thought of the day

2007-01-09T21:39:00.000+01:00

I came across this passage yesterday in a novel I'm reading and it grabbed me...

"He talked of Les Cosmopolites and the literary scene in France before the war, of their obsession with foreign travel... the almost sexual thrill of being out of your own country: an outsider, déraciné, worldly, nomadic."

Intriguing, isn't it? I never quite thought of it like that, but I like the description. I felt a bit more glamorous today, just running errands on Bahnhofstrasse and thinking of it. The book, by the way, is Any Human Heart by English writer William Boyd.

Silliness

2007-01-07T15:03:00.000+01:00

Ahhh, the new year. I'm not big on new year's resolutions. But after browsing my photos from over the holidays, it occurs to me that there is something worth striving for this year. That something is more silliness. It shouldn't be too hard for me. Every time I speak my toddler-level German I feel pretty silly. So here's to a silly 2007, may we all have lots of laughs.

Here are some photos to get us started:

This is my brother-in-law in a Christmas-present-opening delirium with Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo and, well, I'll leave it to your imagination.

Both brothers in-law, swallowed by a rare German land shark.

Jul, the next Michelle Kwan. She can be spotted training at the Dolder Eisbahn in Zurich.

Geordie square dancing, as experieced at our friends' wedding in Newcastle, England. Dosey do with yor partner!

A whole village of tiny people made out of dried plums. Now, really, what could be sillier than that?

Frohe Weihnachten!

2006-12-25T16:44:00.000+01:00

Hello from Germany. We´re having a cozy Christmas here at my inlaws´ house. Last night we decorated the tree and opened prezzies. These are Christmas Eve traditions in Germany. Another interesting bit of cultural trivia - Santa keeps a rather low profile here. He brings oranges and chocolates on St. Nikolaus Day (Dec. 6), while Kristkindl (baby Jesus) delivers the real booty on Christmas eve.

All in all, we´ve been taking it pretty easy here - lots of reading, napping and eating. Our big outing was to the Nürnberg Christmas market last Thursday. Apparently it´s world famous. I saw advertisments for it in Zürich.

To be honest, after the Zürich Christmas market, I wasn´t expecting much. They had some really odd things for sale in Zürich. Barretts made out of giant plastic insects, anyone?

But the Nürnberg market was actually pretty fantastic. The toys, candy and decorations were really fun and kinda vintage-y - the biggest assortment of tiny dollhouse furnishings I´ve ever seen, old-timey picture books, meter-long hot dogs, little people made out of dried plums.

We got our fill of Gluhwein (mulled wine), served in little ceramic Santa boots, and Nürnberger sausages. In Nürnberg, you can either order "drei im weckla," three in a bun, or double the order with "sechs auf kraut," which is always fun to say.

OK, I think another nap is calling...

California dreamin'

2006-12-18T12:23:00.000+01:00

We've been back in Zurich for only a week, and we're leaving again in a couple days for our next trip - Christmas in Germany, followed by a wedding in Newcastle, England and New Years in London. I guess we haven't slowed down too much in the travel dept., which is how we like it.

But California and Arizona are still very much on the mind. Here are some snaps from the trip...

A few of my favorite things

2006-12-11T01:15:00.000+01:00

We're leaving for Zurich in the morning. These last couple of weeks flew by. It must be because they were so damn fun! Here are a few of my favorite parts...

Riding through the Arizona desert today on the back of my Dad's Harley. The desert is a beautiful thing. And riding on a motorcycle always transports me back to being six or seven and riding around, clinging to my Dad. The roar of the motor and the wind in your face is exhilirating. Thanks Dad!

Hooping, for fun and fitness. That's it. I'm hooked on hooping. (Thanks, Claud!) I want to be a master. I'm hoping my new Hoopnotica DVD will show me the way. And Santa, please bring me a hoop for Christmas.

Thanksgiving in Decemeber - My mom cooked a turkey and all the fixins yesterday since we were on a plane for most of Thanksgiving this year and ate grilled cheese sandwiches that night. Thanks Mom, it was delish!

Ruth Asawa - This Bay Area artist's wire sculptures are so beautiful I almost cried looking at them. They almost look alive, like creatures from the deep sea. The de Young Museum has a stunning exhibition that runs through Jan. 28.

Movies, movies, and more movies. I've been getting my flick fix over here. The Departed is the best movie I've seen all year. Leonardo DiCaprio is fantastic and the whole cast is amazing - Jack Nicholson, Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg and Martin Sheen. But Leo is the man.

Spices - I was so excited at dim sum last Sunday I spilled the spicey red pepper sauce all over the table. Doh!

I'm a stranger here myself

2006-12-08T20:01:00.000+01:00

Hello from Scottsdale, Arizona. I've been in the U.S. now for two weeks. In some ways it's like I never left. But then there are moments when I know I've been away a long time.

At the grocery store, for instance, it feels so weird to toss produce into my shopping basket without weighing it. On my first trip down the produce aisle here I kept looking for the scales. It feels like something's missing. It's too easy.

There are other things too. Sundays here seem so busy. The shops should be closed and the city should be quiet on Sunday. But, no, all the malls and stores are bustling with Christmas shoppers. I always complained about Sundays in Europe, but I guess I'm used to it now. It seems right that there's a day of downtime. Take a breather, people!

It's also taken me a while to speak English guilt-free with strangers and not instantly try to formulate what I need to say in German when I walk into a store. But I fear my German is in rapid decline. I schleped by German workbooks over here and haven't so much as glanced at them.

I also fear I've become a public transportation snob. I got around San Francisco pretty well on MUNI and BART but they aren't nearly as user-friendly as the trams in Zurich. My biggest beef is that they don't post route maps in the buses and at many stops. And there are no schedules or maps you can pick up and take with you. Hello! This is pretty basic stuff. But I will give MUNI this - the fares are simple. Pay $1.50 and you can ride MUNI non-stop for a few hours - not that I'd reccommend that.

Off to the good ol' US and A

2006-11-22T22:31:00.000+01:00

We're leaving in the morning for San Francisco. I'm so excited I could pop! We planned this visit - a week in SF and a week in Phoenix to see my folks - at the last minute. We were going to hold out on returning to the US because we were only supposed to be in Zurich for a year, but it looks like we'll be staying here longer. Yipee!

I can't believe we'll be back in our old town tomorrow - our old apartment even, which is now inhabited by friends. I've been having dreams about SF for a couple weeks now. Here's what's on the agenda.

1) Sing-along Sound of Music at the Castro - This is an annual SF event that I never did when I lived there but always wanted to. I'm so psyched about it. Rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens....

2) HoopGirl - Apparently hula hooping is the newest fitness craze. Some girlfriends have promised to get me hooping. I can't wait!

3) Waxing - I guess I'm something of a masochist in that I love getting my body hair torn out with hot wax. It feels so good! It's too pricey here in Zurich, but SF is a waxing mecca.

4) Food! I plan on consuming sushi, dim sum and mexican food in generous quantities.

5) The deYoung Museum - This fine arts museum in Golden Gate Park was controversial when it re-opened last year because of its cutting-edge architecture. It was designed by the Swiss firm Herzog & de Meuron. I went once for work but never made it back to get a better look.

6) The hubby's company holiday party - They always throw an amazing bash. This year's theme is the Greek gods. I dig the pagan connection.

7) DMV - this isn't so exiting but I really miss my driver's license since it disappeared along with the rest of my wallet in a Paris train station.

I'll be back Dec. 12, but will try to blog from the road...

Food and fashion in Milan

2006-11-21T22:42:00.000+01:00

One thing I love about living in Zurich is that you can do things like dash off to Milan for your birthday, which is exactly what we did this past weekend. We even had our own personal Milan tour guides, Jul and Scott, who used to live there and planned all our meals. The food was fabulous and included everthing from perfect, brick-oven pizzas to a four-hour, seven-course marathon of haute vegetarian cuisine. The mozzarella bar, which we visited twice, was also a treat.

The shopping was just as exciting, and I was a woman on a mission. With winter nearly upon us, I sorely need to beef up my whimpy California wardrobe. And unless you're in the market for chocolate, the shops in Zurich are mostly unremarkable and overpriced.

So I was in fashion heaven in Milan. I drooled over the window displays in the famous designer district around Via della Spiga and Via Monte Napoleone, but the only thing I bought in that area was a cappuccino at the Armani Cafe. The cafe is part of a huge Armani complex that takes up a whole city block, and sells Armani-brand flowers, chocolates, and cosmetics, in addition to all the clothes. It was there that Jul introduced me to caffè marocchino, an espresso drink with a policitally incorrect name meaning "little Moroccan." It's a shot of espresso with a dash of milk and cocoa powder. Despite the name, it's delicious.

For actual shopping, I spent most of my time browsing the more affordable boutiques across town on Corso di Porta Ticinese and Corsa Genova. My best purchase was a wool coat with big buttons and a big, floppy collar (yay, 60s!) in off-white and forest green. I couldn't refuse the matching green, cowl-neck sweater, which was on sale.

In almost every clothing shop I came across the same scrumptious colors - royal purple, violet, mossy green, and turqouise. It was like candy, and I wanted something in every color but settled for another sweater, a funky purple number with pom-poms that tie around the waist. I am a very spoiled b-day girl.

Kaffee & Kuchen 101

2006-11-16T11:39:00.000+01:00

My in-laws came over yesterday for afternoon kaffee & kuchen. I'm still getting used to this German tradition (the cake, not the in-laws!). It's a nice way to get together but the timing always throws me off. It's usually in the late afternoon around the time I start thinking about pouring a glass of wine or cracking a beer.

For a German, no conditions are too extreme for kaffee & kuchen. Case in point, I was on a road trip with my German family last year. It was August and we were somewhere between Pheonix and Joshua Tree when they pulled the RV over to the side of the highway. It was 105 degrees, we were the middle of the desert, and my father-in-law, god bless him, started boiling water for coffee! I just sat there sucking on a rapidly melting popsicle in disbelief.

At any rate, last time Ralf and Irmhild visited us in Zurich, I totally botched kaffee & kuchen. I hastily brewed a pot of coffee, forgot the sweets and proceeded to eat half the soft pretzel they'd picked up on the road for themselves. I was such a lame hostess, especially compared to my sisters-in-law who are always whipping up wonderful homemade cheese cakes and fruit tortes.

So I was determined to redeem myself yesterday. I set the table, lit the candles, had the coffee brewing and - the topper - I made Apfelchuechli. I had my first Apfelchuechli (ap-fell-kook-lee) a couple weeks ago on the farm, and they were divine.

They're basically fresh apples, peeled, sliced into rings, battered, fried and sprinkled with powdered sugar. The finishing touch is to serve them with whipped cream and jam. They're super simple to make, and they are sure to impress German and American friends and family alike. Click here for the recipie.

A week on Helmut's farm

2006-11-12T14:22:00.000+01:00

OK, I'm starting to see a pattern. I have a thing for farms. It started in Italy with a visit to an agriturismo last May. Then in July I spent two nights sleeping in a barn in the Alps. Two weeks ago I shipped myself off to an organic farm on the Swiss side of Lake Constance, where I spent five days picking apples, shoveling grass, and squeegying cow poop out of the stalls. And I liked it!

Most of the people I know think I'm slightly crazy to do this stuff. I told a friend about my upcoming trip to Helmut's farm, the latest of these adventures, and the conversation went something like this:

me: i just talked to my farmer!
friend: cool!
me: i'm all signed up
friend: and they're going to let you work for free? (note mock astonishment)

Sassy beetch, you know who you are! Anyway, the question is, what's the big attraction for me? I suppose, in part, it's my inner hippy, which I cultivated in my youth on camping trips with my aunt and uncle and during four years of college in Eugene, Oregon.

But it also has something to do with my idea of the farming life. It seems to me there's a certain purity and wholesomeness in that lifestyle. There's a rootedness about it too. I'm such a wanderer, changing cities and traveling every chance I get. So it's fascinating to me - the idea of staying on one piece of land for most of your life and caring for it like a child - more like 10 or 15 children actually. In Helmut's case, the farm has been in his family for four generations. He lives there with his 80-something parents, his girlfriend, and his two teenage sons, who all pitch in around the farm.

A typical day on the farm went something like this. Helmut woke up at 5:00 a.m. to milk the cows (except for the morning he got up at 3:00 to deal with the arrival of a milk truck). Helmut's son Louis and I got up just before 7:00 for a quick breakfast of coffee and bread. At 7:30 we all helped take the cows out to pasture and then cleaned out the stalls.

At around 8:00 Helmut would mow a patch in one of his fields, and the rest of us would rake and shovel grass into big piles, which Helmut would move to the barn with his tractor. This really got the blood pumping as these were no ordinary rakes but big industrial-size, 50-lbs rakes.

After a short break, Helmut, Louis, Opa and I went out to the orchards to collect apples off the ground. We spent a couple hours at this with Opa and I at the trailer picking out bad fruit and debris and Helmut and Louis operating the apple-picker-upper machine. We returned to the house at about 11:00 to bring the cows back into the barn. At noon was lunch and at 1:00 we returned to the orchard and stayed til about 3 or 4. At 5:00 Helmut milked the cows again and dinner was around 8:00. The routine varied from day to day, but that was the basic schedule. The exception was Friday, when instead of picking fruit we made apple juice.

I was pretty grubby by the end of the week. I had dirt under my finger nails, my hands turned brown from handling pears (a strange thing about pears), I had bug bites and bruises all over and I smelled like a barn. Christoph was somewhat taken aback when he came to pick me up.

The farm was full of characters. Helmut is really upbeat and funny. I think he welcomes volunteers more for the company than anything else. He told me stories all week and told Christoph when he came to pick me up that I was welcome back anytime just for my smile. Opa, Helmut's 82-year-old father, does an incredible amount of work on the farm for his age. He could be a bit of a curmudgeon at times, but he had the sweetest smile and rosiest cheeks. Oma, a.k.a. "the general," was also a tough cookie. She favored the seemingly futile task of swatting flies in the barn to any other activity. I can't imagine she made much of a dent in the fly population, but she was never deterred.

They were all really hospitable and kind to me, but I did feel like an outsider at times. I suppose that's just a natural part of being a stranger in someone else's home. I finally got into the swing of things on my last day there, so I suppose I'll just have to return sometime to apply my new apple-harvesting, cow-milking, barn-hygiene skills. In the meantime, I'll let these pictures tell the rest of the story.

Fright night

2006-11-01T12:56:00.000+01:00

Switzerland doesn't celebrate Halloween, but lucky for us my hubby's company does. They threw a big bash last night for those of us who love dress-up. Of course, I didn't think about costumes until a few hours before the party began. I came up with a quick, cheap idea - I was Mrs. Inside-out and Christoph was Mr. Backwards.

As lame as it was, it's a good thing we came up with something. People who arrived without costumes faced the consequences for their lack of halloween spirit. In the case four hapless software engineers, that involved having to strip down to their tighty whities and bikini briefs (eeek!) and sing backup up for Britney Spears. It made for a truly scarey evening, as you might imagine.

It was one of those moments when you know you're not in Kansas (or even California) anymore. Can you imagine such a scene at company party in the U.S.? And I was worried my outfit would shock and offend...

Off to the farm

2006-10-22T21:38:00.000+02:00

I'm leaving tomorrow morning for my farm stay. I'll be gone for five days. I'm excited and a little nervous. My backpack is all packed. Helmut, the farmer, is supposed to pick me up at the train station in a little town on Lake Constance. We arranged it all over e-mail.

I packed my most rough-and-tumble clothes, read the brochure a dozen times and talked to Helmut over the phone, but I still have no idea what to expect. Will I be able to hack a week of hard farm labor? I know it's going to be tough and dirty and strange but every time I try to picture myself there, I see it like a magazine layout. Me in an idyllic, sunny orchard on a wooden ladder with a bucket full of apples, my hair in a bandana. I have to admit it - I even packed the bandana!

In the meantime, it was gorgeous here today so I got that hike in I was hoping to do. Christoph and I charged up Uetliberg, a popular day hike on a ridge overlooking Lake Zurich. The last time we went up there was last March. There was still snow on the ground and the paths were icy and treacherous. Today it was ideal -- golden leaves, crisp fall air and sunshine.

No Swiss hike would be complete without some refreshments along the way, so we stopped at Teehütte (Tea Hut) for some soup, bread and sausage. At the end of the hike we hit Gasthaus Felsenegg for homemade apple strudel. Does this really count as exercise?

Only four months to go

2006-10-19T18:42:00.002+02:00

I just realized yesterday that we have only four months or so left in Zurich. We're supposed to ship ourselves back to the U.S. on March 1, 2007. I'm already starting to get wistful about Zurich. Lately, I catch myself thinking, oh no, this is the last chance I'll have to do this or I'm really going to miss that. Like today, I was sitting eating my lunch by the lake and thinking I really need to do one more hike before it gets too cold and rainy. Something close by, like Uetliberg, would do.

Perhaps the wistfulness is part of an overall melancholy I'm feeling these days. All the summer visitors have come and gone. The big, exciting trips around Europe are mostly over. The hubby is out of town on business. Jul, my partner in unemployed crime, is off running around Japan. So, here I am, left to my own devices. Yesterday that consisted of spending most of the day surfing the web and downloading music followed by a dinner of beer and potato chips. Not pretty, I know.

Here's the other problem. My state of joblessness is finally starting to catch up with me mentally. Without trips to plans, projects to work on or a job to go to, I've taken to sleeping in till 9 or, sometimes, even 10. The day can just slip by with nothing to show for it. Occasionally I start to feel anxious because I don't know what to do with myself. The last 8 months or so of leisure have been reallly nice, but it's starting to have a downside. I need to feel useful and productive again.

Perhaps my next adventure (you knew there had to be one!) will help clear the fog of idleness. On Monday, I leave for an apple orchard where I'll spend five days as a volunteer farm hand. No sleeping in there, that's certain. I expect I'll be getting up at the crack of dawn to pick and sort apples, plums and pears. The farm is family run, all organic and located in a beautiful area of Switzerland near Bodensee (Lake Constance), or so the brochure says. I found it through an organization called WWOOF, or World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms.

I'm looking forward to getting to work and spending some time outdoors. Fall has been beautiful here so far (I've probably just cursed next week's weather by writing that). I'll also hopefully get to practice my German, which is in a dreadful state right now. And with any luck, I'll come back with a couple of bottles of freshly pressed cider. The farm operates its own cider factory. Reports to come.

Travel fatigue

2006-10-11T12:55:00.000+02:00

Apologies, dear readers (if you're still out there!), for the extended lapse in publishing. I've been travelling nearly non-stop for the last seven weeks, zig-zagging across europe like a maniac. Needless to say, I let blogging fall by the wayside.

I'm back in Zurich now, recuperating. My husband and my apartment are a site for sore eyes.

Don't get me wrong. I'd do it again in a second. I visited fantastic places, enjoyed the company of dear friends and family and generally had a ball. But I think I can finally say I've got the travel bug out of my system - for a while anyway. I don't want to see my rolly luggage for at least a month. Ditto with strange train stations, airports, crinkled city maps and hotel beds. I'm parking my Lonely Planet collection firmly on the shelf.

I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of my wanderings. But I will give you a brief summary. Since Aug. 25, I've galavanted across five countries with eight travel companions in tow (in various groupings). I've boarded three planes, taken three international train rides and logged three major roadtrips. I've hiked three Alps, slept in 12 different beds (not including my own) and spent one afternoon in a Paris police station.

I made it back in more or less one piece minus a wallet (hence the police station).

All of this has me pondering why it is I love to travel. What compells me and countless others to endure far too many hours in a cramped aircraft or train cabin to get to a foreign country where we can't understand most of what is said, must drag all our belongings around in the street, and get stared down by the locals? Why do we glady hand over wads of cash in order to suffer various travel-related, gastro-intestinal problems and fall prey to subway pickpockets?

So many discomforts and yet as soon as I return from one trip (or before in some cases), I find myself scheming up the next one. It's like an addiction. In fact, I must confess I already have another trip planned. I'm going away again in two weeks. But this time I'm staying in Switzerland and it's only an hour and a half away by train. It hardly counts!

So back to why do it. In part, I think it's that I find travel somehow freeing. It takes you out of your routine and your expectations about how things work and how people live. It's also a personal challenge. You have to be on your toes or you might get on the wrong train or locked in a church. You might forget your passport on your trip to Italy and spend half the train ride back praying that the boarder patrol officers don't check your compartment.

You might think an art exhibit is more interactive than it actually is and almost get tossed out of the George Pompidou Center. Or you might get invited to a jazz club in Paris by someone you meet on the plane and then find yourself it a really scuzzy part of town being asked how much you cost. And then you've got to think fast.

So there are bound to be tight spots, but every trip has its really great, unforgettable moments too. For instance, getting scrubbed down by a large, toothless Turkish woman with a hose and a scratchy mit in a Paris hammam. Supressing giggles exiting an Amsterdam coffee shop with legally acquired doobie that comes in a handy, plastic, to-go vile (a great souvenir!). Learning how to insult someone in French from an American who's learned the hard way. Taking advantage of lax open container laws and polishing off a bottle of Burgundy en route to Frankfurt in a rental Fiat Panda (the driver abstained).

I could probably list a dozen more things, but you get the idea. This is the stuff that makes it all worth it.

Zurich from a Riesenrad

2006-08-25T06:34:00.000+02:00

They're taking down the ferris wheel this week in Zurich. Christoph and I took a ride on it a few weeks ago on our anniversary. The city was beautiful from up there. I've been meaning to post these pics of that day for a while...

Meeting Baby Eva

2006-08-21T20:03:00.000+02:00

A wonderful and surprising thing happened this weekend. Christoph and I were in Germany visiting my pregnant sister-in-law, just one week shy of her due date. As we sat down for dinner she calmly announced that her water had possibly broke. Since this was her second pregancy she was pretty relaxed about it. We fisnished dinner together and then she and her hubby clamly left for the hospital. We stayed behind with Katja, the big-sister-to-be.

Early the next morning, at about 5:30, Christoph and I had a new niece -- Eva. We went to the hospital a few hours later to meet and hold her. It is amazing looking into the eyes of person who is just 7 hours old. I was really overwhelmed actually as she eyed me sideways from her sweet little pink face.

Here are some before and after pictures....

Tarik & Daniel

2006-08-17T13:33:00.000+02:00

Tarik and Daniel left Monday. It was great having them around. Unfortunately they were here for the crappiest weather of the summer, so I'm afraid Zurich didn't make such a great impression. (Bad, bad Zurich!) Here we are running around in our rain gear...

I am convinced, by the way, that Daniel and our friend and fellow blogger Sara in Geneva are siblings separated at birth. Both are totally brainy and adorable. Does anyone else see a resemblance?

Peter and Chantal are away too, so we are visitor-less for a little while. I think I have empty nest syndrome. It's too quiet around here.

A few hours at the Street Parade

2006-08-14T20:08:00.000+02:00

We hit the Street Parade, Zurich's annual outdoor techno rave, on Saturday. Despite chilly weather and showers, the dance kids were out having a high old time. The procession of "love mobiles," a sort of dance club on wheels, started at around 2:00 PM. We'd had enough of the crowds by 5:00 and took refuge up the hill at the swank Zurichberg Hotel, a great spot for coffee, cake and a view of the lake. Amazingly, we could still hear the bass up there!

I'm sad to report we didn't get too into the groove. Wearing Gortex and clogs doesn't really put you in the mood to dance. So it was all about spectating for us. Here's some of what we saw. Overall, pretty tame by San Francisco standards but possibly the first time I've seen gardening gloves incorporated into a dance costume.

No Badi? Then go to Baden!

2006-08-12T10:24:00.000+02:00

We took our friends Tarik and Daniel, who are visiting from Boston, to Baden yesterday. Baden is a sleepy little town about 15 minutes from Zurich that's famous for its thermal baths.

We had planned to take a bike ride around the lake, but that plan got rained out. In fact, it's been raining on and off ever since we returned from Italy two weeks ago (the injustice!). The rain and cool weather has put an end (temporarily, I hope) to Badi season. Badi is the swiss word for swimming area and is definitely the highlight of a Zurich summer.

I'm not ready to pack the swimsuit away for good, so it was off to Baden yesterday to check out the springs. It was 16 francs for 2 hours at the baths and worth every rappen (swiss penny). It has two pools, one indoor and one outdoor, and each has a series of therapeutic jets. As might be expected, there is a strict protocol for using the jets. A buzzer rings every few minutes to indicate it's time to move to the next jet in the series. If you're not paying attention and miss the cue, you might get some dirty looks. At the end is the "cauldron," a little tub within the pool with lots of wonderful bubbles.

The outdoor bath is surrounded by gardens and had views of vineyard covered hills and forests. It started to pour when we were out there, which was fantastic. The sensation of cool rain drops on your head and face while your body is submered in steaming 95 degree water is amazing.

The scene there is very low key with lots of seniors and a couple of little kids with parents. Everyone is pretty quiet, enjoying the jets and blissfully floating around the pool. All in all a very relaxing experience.

The forecast calls for more rain, which could put a damper on the Street Parade, a big outdoor techno party happening today in Zurich. Reports on that to come.

2006-08-04T15:32:00.000+02:00

From page 123 of the nearest book in my house....

"What you do not do: Take the drugs that are in your pocket, the Devvies and Sallies in their silver pillbox. She can make it through the day without them. Even bringing them was wrong--another wrong thing."

(from How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer)

Explanation on this random post here.

2006-08-03T14:17:00.000+02:00

The Italy Files Part 4: Sicily
We're back in Zurich after 10 days in Sicily with our friends Peter and Chantal. Everyone thought we were crazy for going down there in the peak of summer, but I'd gladly be back there soaking with sweat and sipping an almond granita among the crumbling palazzi of Siracusa. Especially since it's rainy and overcast here.

Christoph and I are already plotting our new life in Siracusa, an enchanting coastal city on the southeast corner of the island. Rents look cheap, and it's got plenty of atmosphere. How can you beat greek ruins and an active volcano? (Don't worry. We did this after Florence too.)

I had been to Sicily once before, 12 years ago, with my parents and my Italian grandma, whose parents were from Villarosa, a village in the middle of the island. We went to Villarosa on that trip and spent an unforgettable day with our Sicilan cousins. But the visit was brief and I always wanted to go back for a longer stay.

So, two weeks ago, when we touched down in Palermo, I thought how strange life is. Who could have guessed, traveling around with my parents and nonna, that I'd be back 12 years later with my husband and friends from San Francisco. I can just hear my grandma saying with wonder in her voice: Imagine that.

Sicily itself is beautiful. It's Italy, but more exotic with its volcanos, neglected monuments (many are undergoing repair), cactus and palms, abandoned stone farmhouses on parched, rolling hills, and, of course, its mafia intrigue. Like I read in a guidebook, you really feel you're on the edge of Europe.

We saw the family again since it was an invitation from cousin Antonello that put the whole trip in motion. Antonello and I are actually third cousins. Our great grandparents on our mothers' sides were siblings.

We stayed in Villarosa for two nights, and it was the highlight of the trip. They fed us non-stop and pulled out old photos, including pictures from our first visit. Most touching, they had saved all the postcards and letters we had ever sent, including several from my grandma, who passed away seven years ago. I got choaked up when I saw them.

The second night the whole family decided to go out for dinner in the country. Gandolfo and Giacomo, Antonello's uncle and his dad, asked me if I liked the "campagna." I responded with great enthusiam but the wives were worried about going too "rustico." We ended up at a nice country retreat where the food never stopped coming and we lingered outside for hours.

It took us several days to recover from all the eating we did in Villarosa, but it was all delicious. I had fresh, raw almonds for the first time at Gandolfo's house. They are wonderful. I stayed away from gelato in a bun though. What is that about?

The trip had so many great moments. These are a few: Getting silly at dinner with Peter and Chantal. During one of these dinners I decided I would open a granita stand at Peter's future very hip, very italiano cafe. One of the flavors will be nagrita, a cross between a granita and a negroni. Don't you want one right now?

Other great moments: Swimming in the sea at Cefalu. You could stay in that water forever. The food, of course! Fish couscous, swordfish kebabs, octopus timballo and Antonello's shrimp pasta were my faves. Piazza San Rocco in Siracusa, the place for an aperatif and excellent people watching. Mt. Etna, in the distance, spewing smoke and ash into the sky. Seeing the church in Villarosa where my great grandparents were married.

2006-07-13T15:59:00.000+02:00

Barns, Alps, mountain goats and kittens
I just returned today from Gimmelwald, a lovely mountain hamlet in the heart of the Swiss Alps. Jeff, my cousin and mountaineering partner, is now en route to Paris.

We had a real outdoor adventure together before parting ways this morning. Yesterday we did a challenging, five-hour hike up to Schilthorn, a 9,800 ft peak, and stayed the night in Esther's barn, sleeping in the straw with about a dozen other backpackers.

The barn was an "interesting" experience, as my cousin put it. My favorite part was the fluffy, orange, farm kittens. I got some good cuddle time in with them. The scenery was totally amazing. Gimmelwald is bascially a little farming village on the egde of a cliff. You have to take a gondola to get there, so there are no cars, just tractors. The view from just about any spot in town is glacier-covered Alps. As one of our barnmates noted, the view is so spectacular it almost looks fake.

The downside of the barn were the flies, cold shower and tight quarters. I didn't sleep well either night, but it was such a novelty, I'm glad we did it. I also enjoyed the camraderie of the other guests, who were eager to compare travel notes. The earthy scent of cows (now out to pasture) and hay was nice too. Apparently hundreds of barns across Switzerland open their doors to overnight guests in the summer.

The highlights of the hike were fields of wild flowers, gorgeous, vertigo-inducing mountain views, and a nice lunch at a moutain hut at our half-way point. We had a couple of moments of heart-pounding excitement too. Jeff help free a woman whose foot was pinned by a big rock in a minor landslide. I spied an Ibex, a kind of mountain goat with really impressive horns. It was close enough to make my heart leap, but disappeared before Jeff could see it.

A hailstorm swept in just as we reached the summit. Luckily there's a big tacky rotating restaurant up there. We waited out the storm eating chocolate cake and watching scenes from "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," a 007 movie that was filmed up there. Then we took the gondola back to Gimmelwald.

Here are some more snaps from the trip...

2006-07-11T10:00:00.000+02:00

Summer in full swing

My cousin Jeff is visiting us from Park City, Utah this week, so I get to play Swiss tour guide. It's great fun! So far we've been to Bern, Switzerland's capital and the Rheinfall, a great, big waterfall near the German border. Yesterday we spent the day in Lucerne, where we took a trip to the summit of Mt. Pilatus via steamboat, cogwheel train (the world's steepest!) and gondola. Chantal, a friend that's visiting for the summer, joined us for some of these adventures.

Mt. Pilatus was just a preview. Today Jeff and I leave for Gimmelwald, a tiny town (pop. 140) near Interlaken in the middle of the Alps. We picked Gimmelwald for its great hiking and its rustic accomodations. We plan to stay the night there in a barn where backpackers can stay in the summer when the cows are out to pasture. So we will be "hitting the hay" for real tonight. I'll have the full report later this week. In the meantime, here are some pics from our travels so far...

2006-07-07T10:54:00.000+02:00

Our big Geneva weekend
Christoph and I spent last weekend in and around Geneva. There are lots of big things to see there, including Lake Geneva, the largest in Western Europe, Geneva's Jet d’Eau, the largest fountain in the world, and, just across the border in France, Mt. Blanc, the tallest peak in Europe.

We saw all these things and even made time for the Montreux Jazz Festival, one of the most famous music festivals in Europe (Deep Purple sang about it in "Smoke on the Water"). We caught Italian crooner Paolo Conte performing at the swank Casino Barriere. That show was definitely a highlight of the weekend as was Montreux and the nearby town of Vevey, the heart of the "Swiss Riviera."

Even by Swiss standards, this place has a lot of bling. Some of the locals looked like they walked right out of an old Bain de Soleil ad, all tan, thin and affluent. But, frankly, a few looked like they could use some SPF.

By the way, how did everyone in this country get so tan all of a sudden? Summer only just arrived and all these bronzed, rail thin people are running around everywhere already. I don't get it. Could these the same people that feast on chocolate and fondue all winter long in ankle-length coats?

In any case, the Montreux area is gorgeous. The lovely green-blue water, palm trees and lush flowers give it a tropical feel. But across the lake, mountains dramatically rise up out of the water, reminding you you aren't far from the Alps. Blanketing the gentler slopes of the North shore are miles of beautiful wines estates and vineyards. A local told us the grapes thrive on these likeside hills because they are bathed in the sun reflected on the water. All I know is the local white wine is amazing.

The other highlight of the weekend was our trip to Mt. Blanc with friends Jul, Scott and Sara. Sara lives in a little town outside Geneva and was our own little sherpa. We actually didn't do too much hiking since just walking around the lookout point where the gondola dropped us off at 12,605 feet made us all a little dizzy.

We spent that night at Sara's house and watched France beat Brazil in a major World Cup upset. Sara lives just across the border from Geneva in France and the little town went totally nutso. We walked to the main square and watched the procession of honking cars full of little kids and teenagers hanging precariously out of sun roofs, windows and open mini-van doors. What a riot.

2006-07-03T22:11:00.000+02:00

Ich spreche Deutsch!
Big breakthrough on the language front. I actually gave directions in German today. A woman approached me on the street and asked me how to get to Globus. Globus is the Swiss equivalent of Nordstrom, so of course I know right where it is. I had those coordinates dialed in within my first week or two here.

I said: "Geradeaus. Es ist auf der rechten Seite. Es ist nicht weit." Which translates to: "Straight ahead and it's on the right side. It's not far." She understood perfectly and off she went.

Simple enough, I know, but it made my day! This was probably the most German I've spoken outside my German class that didn't end in confusion and embarassement, or English. Of course hand gestures probably helped the whole transaction, but still I felt pretty proud of myself.

I'm in my fourth month of German classes here, and, let me tell ya, this language is a bitch. The grammar is maddening. For instance, there are six different ways to say "green car" depending on where you put it in the sentence and whether you use a definite or indefinite article. Sometimes, when Marianne, my really sweet German teacher, is explaining a grammar rule, I find myself thinking: you've GOT to be kidding.

Besides, what kind of language calls nipples "brustwarzen" - breast warts!

So, I don't know if I'll ever really learn German, but just ask me for directions to Globus or any major department store in Zurich, and chances are I won't lead you astray.

2006-06-27T16:22:00.000+02:00

Photo of the Week

This is a view of the Alps west of Lucerne from Mt. Rigi, about 1.5 hours south of Zurich by train. You can actually reach Rigi's highest summit (about 5,900 ft) by cog-wheel train, but Christoph and I decided on Sunday to zip up by cable car from the base and then hike for three or so hours to the top.

My Walking in Switzerland guide (thanks again, Stef!) rated this an easy hike, but I thought it was a pretty good workout. I guess I'm not as in shape as I thought I was.

We made it to the top just as an afternoon wind storm swept in. Luckily there's a hotel up there, so we watched the storm roll through from the restaurant while enjoying panoramic views and cake. The storm cleared out the heat and the haze, which is how I got this shot on the way down the mountain.

2006-06-24T09:39:00.000+02:00

Hopp Schwiiz!!!
The Swiss beat South Korea and advanced to the second round of the World Cup last night. And Zurich went OFF!

It was such an un-Swiss scene, I was kind of stunned. Pedestrians were piling on cars and peeing in the Limmat. Needless to say, there was lots of hollering, honking, fireworks and public displays of affection.

I wandered around town after the game and got swept up in the revelry. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera, so here are the best pics I could find this morning from around the Web...

2006-06-22T13:16:00.000+02:00

Summer, my long lost friend!
There are lots of nice things about living in San Francisco, but summertime is not one of them. It's sort of the missing season, lost in a swirl of fog and wind.

So, here in Zurich, I'm enjoying a whole summer again for the first time in six years. It's wunderbar!

For one thing, Zurichers really know how to do summer. On every corner is a sidewalk cafe or beer garden teaming with people. The drinking laws are pretty relaxed, so you can order a beer at the park near my house and take it out on the grass while the kiddies run around and play.

I love this park, by the way. I call it the hip parents' park because it's where all the groovey parents go with their stylish bambinos, but it's actually called Bäckeranlage. It also attracts lots of earthy types and some seniors, who take in the scene in from the shady benches. Christoph and I meandered over there one night when it was all hot and stuffy in the house. The cafe was jumping and people were lounging on blankets, having picnics by candlelight. We didn't bring a blanket so we just plopped down in the grass and watched the clouds gather.

The nice thing about the lack of air conditioning - a rare thing in Switzerland - is that it gets people out of their houses and mingling. Who cares if everyone's a little sweaty?

Another fantastic feature of a Zurich summer is the Schwimmbad culture. All along the lake and river are lovely swimming spots, which are packed on nice weekends and evenings. Christoph and I biked along the lake last Sunday and must have seen dozens of them. The water looked so good we finally stopped at one and took a dip.

We also stopped for lunch and a game of rummy at Rote Fabrik, an old brick factory that's now a grungy, graffiti-covered entertainment complex with a lakeside restaurant, theater and art galleries. Between the lesbian couple cuddling at the next table and the guy smoking an enormous joint, it felt like Berkeley for a moment.

The swimming holes along the river in the city are more refined. One of my favorite spots, which I visited for the first time last week, is the Frauenbad - the women's bath. Men are only allowed in on Wednesday and Sunday evenings, when it becomes the Barfuss Bar (Barefoot Bar).

I went with a friend last Thursday afternoon. The water was pretty chilly but the ambiance was fantastic. It's a little old wooden bathhouse on stilts in the water, and it's right downtown across the street from city hall. From the outer deck, you can watch the boats and the city life go by. Of course, they can watch you too, which didn't seem to bother the topless sunbathers. (I kept mine on.)

Another nice spot is the Männerbad - just for men, of course. Women are welcome in every evening around 7:30 for the open-air bar. It's on a small, quiet tributary that's very lush and cool and green. Instead of tables and chairs, people lounge on Persian rugs and oversize cushions scattered around a wrap-around deck several feet above the water. Big paper lanterns give it a kind of bohemian feel, but it's a pretty posh, young crowd that gathers here, being just around the corner from the stock exchange.

It cooled down today, but I plan to further investigate the schwimmbad scene very soon.

2006-06-17T18:33:00.000+02:00

My (almost) alcohol- and meat-free week
One of the occupational hazards of a hausfrau is that there's never any reason to refuse a drink. A glass of wine with lunch? A couple beers on Sunday night? Aperitifs with your girlfriends three nights in a row? Why not?

So I decided, after a particularly boozy Sunday in which I consumed a beer, a mojito and several glasses of wine, that I needed to give it a rest. I resolved to abstain from booze and, for good measure, meat for 7 days.

All proud and full of optimism, I told my yoga teacher about my undertaking on the first day. "Oh, are you cutting out coffee and dairy too?" she responded, obviously unimpressed. Yes, she is sadistic.

That was six days ago, and today I fell off the wagon. It's shameful, I know.

And I had been so good! I met some friends on Monday at a beer garden and just ordered a salad and sparkling juice. Christoph and I went bar hopping on Thursday and I drank nothing but water. Last night we went out to the Caliente festival, a big street party where every other stand was selling rum drinks and shish kabobs, and I consoled myself with a couple of sweet crepes.

I resisted through all that but finally caved in at home over a simple meal of cheese, bread, insalata caprese and fresh apricots. Admiring the lovely lunch I'd put together, I thought to myself, when did a nice glass of white wine ever kill anybody? The next thing I knew I had a cork screw in my hand and it was all over.

What can I say? Did I mention it's been really hot here all week? This weather can sure make a gal thirsty!

I'm happy to report that the lack of meat has been no problem. I've been cooking up a vegetarian storm - potato fritatta, baked peppers, onions and tomatoes stuffed with bread crumbs and other yummies. Tonight we're making baked trout and marinated zucchini - the first seafood of the week! My meat-and-potatoes husband has been a trooper.

But on the liquid front, the biggest challenge as I see it, is the lack of alternative beverages. I don't drink Coke or other sugary drinks. I only crave juice and coffee in the morning. It's too hot for tea. Some non-sweetened iced tea would be nice, but doesn't exist here as far as I can tell. Non-alcoholic beer just seems desperate.

So that leaves water. It's been a very watery week. I was feeling very deprived. This is important because should I ever get pregnant, I'll have nine MONTHS of this. How does anyone do it???

2006-06-08T22:29:00.000+02:00

The Italy Files: Part 3
Maybe I’ve worried you. Perhaps you’ve begun to fear that this Italy trip was a bust. Well, fear not! The next two days restored our faith in Italy’s magic and the warmth and hospitality of its people. These were the days we spent at the farmhouse inn Il Casato, the most peaceful, welcoming and scenic spot on our journey.

The place is set back about a mile from the main road in a lush valley of vineyards, fields and forested hills. From the door of our room, we could see the Appennini, still tinged with snow, in the far distance. Cherry trees dangled their brilliant sweets just outside our window. It was like we had stepped into one of those Renaissance paintings we saw in Urbino's Palazzo Ducale.

There were several times I couldn’t believe my eyes for all the fairytale beauty of the place. Like the time I looked across to the next hill and saw a herd of horses in a wild gallop on the ridge. Or the sunset that streaked the sky with the most vibrant shades of pink and blue. Or the night we were out walking and spotted a field full of fireflies, or “lucciole” in Italian. How sweet is that word?

While the landscape was stunning, what made Il Casato so delightful were Mario and Mara, the husband wife team that own and run the place. From the moment we drove up, Mario was laughing and teasing us about the BMW. “Where is everyone else?” he asked. “That car is big enough for seven people!” Mario was our buddy from the start, always joking and telling stories.

That afternoon, after a nice long walk, we ate ourselves silly in Il Casato’s rustic, homey dining room. It was the full-meal deal - appetizers, a pasta course, a meat dish and a non-stop supply of Mario’s marvelous Verdicchio, a white wine made from the grapes of his family’s vineyard. Claudia and I drank a bottle each in one sitting, which is why I can’t recall more details about the food other than it was really yummy.

In between courses, we got to exercise our Italian with Mario, who brought out each new dish and kept the wine flowing. A big group of Italians at the next table were celebrating a wedding and made sure Claudia and I got a piece of cake and a glass of champagne. As we all toasted to the newlyweds, Claudia and I exchanged looks of joy and relief. We had escaped the American ghetto.

Over the course of the next day and a half, Mario was the supreme host, always welcoming new guests and brimming with a passion for his land that was absolutely contagious. He took Claudia and I on a tour of his vineyard and showed us the natural spring where he and his neighbors collect fresh drinking water, filling a big bottle for us.

The next night after dinner, Claudia and I, an American couple who were also guests at the farmhouse and a kid who helped out around the place all jumped in Mario’s car and went into town for gelato. Mario said he knew where to get the best gelato for miles, made by hand not in a factory. Sure enough, the place was packed with people at 11:00 PM. Mario made sure we all put in our orders and then insisted on paying for the whole group. Licking my spoon and being nudged along by Mario, I felt like I was about 15 years old.

We lingered outside the gelateria with our creamy treats along with a dozen or so locals, who were all chatty and sitting on eachother’s laps. That was also the night we saw le lucciole, and I was once again intoxicated with Italy.

2006-06-06T14:46:00.000+02:00

The Italy Files: Part 2
Yes, it's true. I can't get enough of that boot-shaped, fashion-soaked, sun-drenched country to the south. So when my friend Claudia dropped in for 10 days from San Francisco, there was really no question about where we were heading. She too has Sicilian roots and spent time in Italy (Assisi) as a student, so we are joined in mutual Italy worship.

Following a tip in the paper, we decided to visit Le Marche, an area in central Italy some have deemed the new Tuscany. Like Tuscany, Le Marche has an abundance of medieval, hilltop villages, gorgeous countryside, and meandering back roads. But it's greener and more rugged than Tuscany with the Appennini mountain range separating it from the rest of central Italy and its crush of tourists. We were primarily on a gelato-seeking, wine-appreciation, language-refresher mission, so the fact that Le Marche is not the Italian epicenter of important museums and historical sites was not a problem. For that we had Florence and Assisi (our starting and end points).

In my mind, our trip had two distinct phases -- before and after our arrival at Il Casato, a wonderful farmhouse hotel and restaurant that's also an operating vineyard and small farm. The Italian term for this type of place is "agriturismo," and I gather that the concept has really taken off in the past several years. I first noticed it this past Easter when Christoph and I spent a day driving through Tuscany and saw agriturismo signs everywhere.

Before Il Casato, we were having a pleasant enough time shopping the markets in Florence, exploring picturesque Urbino, and putting miles on our rental car - get this - a BMW station wagon. Hertz had run out of Fiat automatics, the car I'd reserved, and decided to pimp our ride at no extra charge. We figured it was a real stroke of luck until we got that thing all tangled up in the impossibly narrow cobblestone alleys of every town we visited. And then there was that belligerent Italian driver stuck behind us in a particularly small parking lot who threatened to call the police.

I'm sad to report that we detected some anti-Americanism on this trip. Every restaurant seemed to have a special place for us --- let's call it the American ghetto. There was also the single-women-over-30 ghetto. Anyone who's gone for dim sum in San Francisco and found themselves in the Caucasian ghetto will understand this concept. Again and again, we were seated off in a corner by ourselves, the lone diners.

The worst was in Urbino, where we had a whole floor to ourselves. After we complained and looked really gloomy about this situation, they eventually moved us downstairs with the other patrons. Unfortunately this included a group of drunk Swiss men at the table next to us who made sure we understood, after we told them we are from California, that they think Napa wine tastes like shit. Nice. As we got up to leave, they started yelling "Bush! Bush! Do you like Bush?" My reply: "I LOOOOOOOVE Bush! Goooooo Bushy!!!!"

We took all this in stride, but it was starting to wear on us. Afterall, we weren't your average American tourists. We actually made attempts to speak Italian and look stylish at all times in accordance with local norms and customs. Yet it was clear, especially after being referred to once (albeit in a friendly way) as "le ragazze alte" (the tall girls), that we didn't exactly blend in.

Then we hit a real low point. After a long day of driving, we reached the town of Macerata, where we planned to stay for the next two nights. The Rough Guide described it as the perfect base for exploring the magnificent countryside.

Perfect, my ass.

After driving through the ugly modern development that surrounds the city, we parked the Beamer in a lot and proceeded to the youth hostel (yes, I'm aware of how absurd that sounds). Claudia had to pee and had a nasty cold. I was tired and frustrated after a set of directions that had us dragging our bags up and down several sets of stairs. We were lost and grumpy.

I ended up in the tourist office rubbing my face and saying, "Io sono molto stanca." (I am very tired.) From the look on the face of the woman behind the counter, I'm sure I appeared slightly deranged. She quit trying to explain the location of the hostel (just around the corner!) and cautiously handed me the map I had been asking for.

We finally reached the hostel. It had the ambiance (perhaps aptly by then) of an abandonded mental institution. We seemed to be the only guests, so we got our own room, which Claudia nicknamed "cell block A." As soon as we set our bags down, I started scrambling for a new plan and that's how we ended up staying at Il Casato, that little slice of heaven, the next night. It wasn't even in the original plan!

But first we had to go through more hell. After taking a stroll and eating some crappy pizza, we returned to the hostel and decided to hit the hay early. A few minutes later there was urgent knocking at our door. Before I could open it, a woman barged in and started yelling at us in rapid-fire Italian. I wasn't quite following all of it but I understood she was upset that we didn't leave the key at the front desk when went out. Just when I was sure she was wrapping up her verbal assault it escalated and this is where she lost me. She was on the verge of hysteria about how she's responsble for us and something about getting raped in the bathroom.

At this point it was almost comical. This really was the insane asylum. Finally she left, and as I climbed back into bed, I felt somewhat violated. I told Claudia, as I turned out the light, let's just pretend we're already on that nice farm in the country. And she said, god bless her, "Yeah, and that was the cow."

To be continued...

2006-05-21T11:48:00.000+02:00

Oh Lordi
A Finnish metal band in monster garb and platform shoes stole the hearts of pop music fans across Europe last night. Yes, it sounds outlandish, but it's true.

Last night we tuned in for the annual Eurovision song contest, a major pop culture event here. It's also a showcase for some very cheesey music and lots of cleavage. Few Americans have heard of this televised contest, but it's a pretty big deal over here. It launched the careers of both Celine Dion and Abba and, I'm guessing, was the inspiration for American Idol. I actually caught Eurovision by chance two years ago on a trip to Germany. I was an instant fan.

This year 24 countries, from Spain to Latvia, competed for Europe's votes. I was rooting for Romania, who sang a catchy dance tune in Italian. Something you might expect to hear emanating from a bar in the Castro or in an Italian discoteca. (Sadly, Italy itself doesn't particpate in Eurovision. I have no idea why.)

My other favorites were Lithuania and Germany. Lithuania was great for its pure absurdity. The all-male group, older and dashing in elegant suits, simply chanted the same lyrics over and over: "We are the winners of Eurovision. Vote for us." The longer they went on the more comical it became.

Germany's band, Texas Lightning, was more earnest, and their imitation country western was better than what you hear on most country stations back home. Viewers didn't go for it though. Germany ended up with one of the lowest scores.

The winner, by a landslide, was Lordi, the band from Finland, with their head banger anthem Hard Rock Halleluja. The band caused an uproar in Finland, where many people were mortified by them. But Lordi got its "day of Rockoning" (yes, that's a line from the song). I was actually glad to see them win. They were so outrageous, the fact they won shows Europeans don't take all this (or themselves) too seriously.

2006-05-16T17:28:00.000+02:00

Breaking Brot
I stumbled on a wonderful thing last week -- Zurich's annual baker's festival. All the major bakeries in town set up stands on Bahnhofstrasse, Zurich's main shopping street, and were handing out samples and selling their mouth-watering goods. I dropped all my other plans and parked myself there for a good hour or so, and just in time for lunch!

Bread and cake hold a special place in German (and thus Swiss German) culture. I think it has something to do with cold winters and the coziness of a something baking in the oven. At any rate, baking is something of an artform here, and they hold the artisan baker in the highest esteem.

The bread tends to be pretty hearty, with lots of wholegrains and nuts. But the variety is huge. It comes in special shapes too - like hearts and turtles. There are also cakes, pasteries and cookies aplenty. Those are of course an important component of Kaffeeklatsch, a tradition that's alive and well in these parts.

I went for a bag of macaroons, fresh out of the oven, and a long crusty loaf of olive bread. My cousin, who was visiting from Italy over the weekend, even approved. A culinary nod from Italy. I can't think of a compliment much higher than that.

2006-05-08T19:38:00.000+02:00

A night out in Zurich West
Zurich is supposed to offer some of the best nightlife in Switzerland, and Christoph and I finally got out and sampled some of it last Saturday. We were home by midnight, so it hardly counts as a night out by local standards. The clubs here stay open til the wee hours, and the one I had my eye on didn't even open its doors until 11.

But we made the most of our time. We spent the evening in Zurich West, the old industrial quarter of the city that's now ultra hip and trendy. We headed first to Maag Music Hall, a warehouse-turned-theater, to catch Steps, an international dance festival taking place this month across Switzerland. I just started a modern dance class for beginners, so I was looking for inspiration.

The venue itself was super cool. It's tucked away among still operating warehouses and a major train overpass. Inside, in addition to the theater, are two bar/lounge areas, big expansive spaces where a chic crowd gathered before and after the performance. A refurbished shipping container serves as one of the bars, with the bartender mixing drinks from inside.

I really liked the show too. The dancers were from Tel Aviv, and the title of the performance was "Three: Messages about sensuality." It was modern dance, so it was a little out there at times and slow in parts. But the music got more interesting in the second half and then the "sensuality" part really kicked in. At one point, the dancers took turns exposing themselves. There were some nice mid-air BAs, followed by some below-the-waist, frontal nudity. The guys tucked their thingies between their legs, which was shocking in a Silence of the Lambs sort of way.

My favorite part though was a partner dance involving two fantastic (fully clothed) male dancers, who managed to be incredibly masculine and feminine at the same time. They were like a visual poem.

By the time we left the music hall, the streets were bustling with club-goers and cruisers. After bouncing around a few different bars looking for an interesting scene, we found a great spot called Les Halles. It was a very relaxed, casual crowd surrounded by a jumble of old euro movie posters, pinball machines, mismatched tables and chairs and marine-themed kitsch. It was a nice contrast to the ultra-modern, sleek vibe so many places are going for here. What made it even more homey was the fact that there's an Italian deli in the back and it was still open at 11. That's unheard of in this country, where store hours are strictly regulated.

Christoph and I finished our drinks, browsed the deli, bought some cheese (just because we could) and headed out in time to catch the last tram.

2006-05-08T17:27:00.000+02:00

Death (or Disfigurement) By Chocolate
Some of my friends back in San Francisco thought I was too skinny, so they may be gratified to know that I've been gorging myself on Swiss chocolate. I read somewhere that the Swiss eat more chocolate per capita than any other nation. So, when in Rome, I say. All you have to do is take a look at the chocolate selection at the grocery store to know it's a national addiction. This is just half the chocolate aisle...

The chocolate itself is on a whole other level. Hershey's, by comparison, tastes like the sole of an old shoe. When I really want to indulge, though, I head straight for Spüngli, the chocolate shop in Zurich. Just today, I snagged a baggy of dried apricots covered in dark chocolate with dark chocolate goo in the middle. It's bascially an oral orgasm. I also picked up a box of these little Maikaifer (May bugs) a couple weeks ago, and they were a hit with the in-laws.

I'm a little worried though that I will soon need whatever it is they're selling in this ad. I find this image very disturbing by the way, and it's been all over Zurich. I mean, cellulite is one thing, but human upholstery? That is just creepy.

2006-05-07T11:12:00.000+02:00

Adorabe nieces!
I spent last weekend in Germany visiting my in-laws. One of the highlights were Christoph's little nieces. Emilia, pictured above with her dad, is not yet 1 and she has recently discovered her index finger. She's in a definite pointing phase. It's very cute, until she tries to point at your eye at close range. And even then, it's still cute.

It was really sweet to watch Emilia interact with her cousin, Katja, who is almost 3. She was very calm around Katja, and Katja was very gentle with little Emilia, patting her softly and hugging her head. Almost makes you want your own, doesn't it??

This is the place where these sweeties live. There must be something in the water or air that produces such happy, rosey-cheeked babies.

2006-04-27T16:19:00.000+02:00

The Italy Files Part 1: Tuscany Revisited
Florence was fabulous! It was great for all the usual reasons - tastey food, divine coffee, nice weather, lovely people, incredible history, art, and architecture. We made some new discoveries too, but before I get into that I have to say it's hard to go back to a place you idealize in your memory, which I do with Tuscany.

The nice thing is that the place has not lost its effect on me. I was dazzled. But I was wistful at times too, remembering another magical time in my life. Thinking about the people I knew that I've lost track of and how so much time has passed. It's strange to be there as a tourist instead of a student/resident, knowing I'm only passing through (like so many thousands). I used to feel the place somehow belonged to me or that I belonged to it. I guess that's why I waited so long to go back.

One thing I remember very differently is traveling by overnight train. When I was a spry, 21-year-old I thought nothing of bunking up with 5 strangers in a tiny sleeping car and arrived at my destination rested and energized. At 33, not so much. Christoph and I had our own private cabin, but I don't think I got more than an hour or two of solid sleep. The cabin was cramped and shabby and there was nowhere to hang out or even sit comfortably. No dining car or anything. At some point in the middle of the night there was a lot of yelling in Italian, which was strangely comforting.

Once we got to Florence, I quickly forgot the rough journey because the city was so beautiful. After dropping our bags at the hotel, we stumbled around looking for a place to have a leisurely cappuccino, which is how we found Piazza Santo Spirito. With its leafy trees, fountain and simple church, it's an oasis from the tourist frenzy. In the evening, a cluster of lively bars became a gathering place for the locals, an artsy, student crowd. They were out strutting their stuff, as the Italians do so well, but in a relaxed, casal way. You could linger there for hours.

Another new discovery for me was Italy's passion for aperativi. I have to give credit to my friend Jul, who lived in the aperativo capital of Milan and clued me into this trend. The Lonely Planet even had a side-bar on it.

Around 6 or 7 pm, loads of stylie Italians pour into bars around the city for a pre-dinner cocktail. As with other food and drink, Italians have a pretty strict protocol for consuming aperativi and ordering such a beverage at the wrong hour, after dinner for instance, will cause the bartender and server great dismay, or so we were warned. We were careful to avoid that gaff.

Our best encounter with Florence's aperativo culture was at Negroni, a bar near the Arno river where the crowd spills out on the sidewalk and the free buffet, known as stuzzichini, is especially generous. Negroni is also the name of a tastey gin and Campari cocktail, and we had several rounds there. I also tried Cynar, a nice, dark brown bitter made from artichokes and served over ice (thanks again Jul!).

What I found most appealing though was the crowd. All kinds of people, not just hip young, singles, turned up at these places. Tourists blended easily with locals. A dapper man in his 70s chatting up the bartender fit in just as well as the fashionable young couple and the group of 40-something women on either side of us. It seemed there was room for everyone and that a community was connecting. What a nice way to live.

2006-04-12T10:57:00.000+02:00

Moving abroad and being a foreigner has its difficult moments for sure, but it has many delights and pleasant surpises too. Here are a few things that I love about this place so far...

Car-free living - Sounds a lot like carefree living, doesn't it? Well, it's close. Parking is a big, expensive hassle in Zurich and the the public transport rocks. The city is also very pedestrian-friendly, so who needs a car? There's something very freeing about living car-free. Gas prices? Who cares. Parking tickets? A thing of the past. Traffic? So sorry. The only wheels I want to own have pedals attached. Did I mention Christoph can walk to work in under 15 minutes? Or that you can reach the ski slopes by train in about an hour or two?
Gourmet easter bunnies - The Swiss, as you may have heard, make very fine chocolate, so of course they don't mess around when it comes to Easter. The window displays at Sprungli, a big chocolate store here, litrally draw a crowd. I've never seen more tempting Easter bunnies in my life.
Authentic Italian pizza - You see a theme developing here, don't you? It's all about the foooood. Some friends introduced us to a great little neighborhood pizza place our first week here called Scala. Nothing fancy about the place, but the pizza is so good it felt like I was back in Italia. We've gone back a few times and I always order the same thing, the Pizza Contadina with spicy salami, eggplant and onions. It's heaven.
And that leads me to another great thing about Zurich -- a few hours on a train and you're actually in Italy. In fact, we're leaving for Italy tonight on the night train and will wake up in Florence at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow. I haven't been there since I was an exchange student in Siena 12 years ago. Christoph has never been, so I'm excited to explore it with him and practice my Italiano, which is still much better than my Deutsch.

2006-04-10T17:31:00.000+02:00

It sounds like a dream come true, doesn't it? Newlyweds on an overseas adventure. One year in Zurich, Switzerland before kids, mortgages, and all the things that scared us about getting married. We packed up our life in San Francisco and said goodbye to friends and family (and my job!), our heads filled with visions of powdery ski slopes, romantic train rides to Paris and a cosmopolitan European city to explore and call home.

Well, we arrived in March and in many ways it is a dream, but also a shock. The language (German with a twist), the weather (three feet of snow our first weekend), and the prices (sky high) have thrown me for a loop. Just everyday things, like operating a washing machine (don't forget that 19th step!) or a trip to the grocery store (what? you didn't weigh the bananas?) can prove a major challenge at first. Some days I feel clever and adventurous. But other days, when the lady at the cheese counter can't understand my German and the fact that most people I know and love are nine time zones away weighs heavily on my chest, I just feel like crying.

For my husband, who's a German native, life couldn't be easier. The guy is happy pretty much wherever you put him. But throw in good sausage, 22 varieties of muesli, and a 10 minute commute to work on foot, and he's on cloud nine.

For me, there have been and will be many highs and lows, and that's why I started this blog. To ponder the spectrum of experiences and share them with anyone who's interested. And really, no matter who we are, where we go or what we do, isn't that always worth doing? In fact, isn't it the whole point?