I officially leave for home for the holidays tomorrow and will most likely not post anything until my return on January 3rd. Therefore I wanted to leave with a parting Christmas story, compliments of the Swiss tradition. This story was told to me by a few Swiss co-workers and friends
Now most people, despite religious backgrounds, know of Santa Claus, Saint Nick, or Samichlaus as he is fondly referred to in Switzerland. Most people do NOT know of Samichlaus’s “helper” Schmutzli. In Switerzland, Samichlaus comes for his visit on December 6th and hands out toys to those kids who had behaved all year-round. At the same time Schmutzli also comes to town, but for other reasons.
Schmutzli is a man dressed in black/brown robes, with a black face, who carries a switch and/or stick and a sack. He is a man who walks with a limp from childhood injuries. He is also a man who snatches naughty children in the middle of the night and takes them to the forest in his sack to be beaten or to be forced to make toys for the good children (the original child laborer). According some to Swiss, he was actually the murderer of three children, who Saint Nick brought back to life.
Needless to say, every Swiss person I talked to was TERRIFIED of Schmutzli growing up (which might explain why everyone here is so well behaved)! In case you don’t believe me, and reject this fable as an Ange story, see for yourself at Wikipedia…
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schmutzli
Now Merry Christmas, Happy New Years and Behave, or Schmutzli will come and get you!!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Man I am OLD!
On Friday night I went to the KPMG TS Holiday Party and had an AWESOME time. The following Saturday was not so awesome and apparently I wasn’t the only one hurting. So, instead of going out that Saturday evening, we all headed over to the Marks’ house for fondue and college football (compliments of the Slingbox).
After the fondue was finished and football had wrapped up, we decided to play some cards. A few ideas were thrown out, but they were either too involved or too complicated. Anna mentioned a game that she vaguely remembered where the 2 was the highest card, you tired to get rid of all your cads and certain people can make up rules along the way. The game sounded very familiar and it took me about 5 minutes to remember the name…ASS HOLE. I am so ashamed to admit it, but the name of my favorite drinking game, my life line, my claim to fame in college had escaped me. But that is not where my disgrace ended. Oh no! I couldn’t remember all of the rules that I could so fondly recite under any circumstances or conditions just four years prior. So we did what any group of late-twenty-somethings would do…we googled the rules to ASS HOLE. Thank god for Wikipedia.
So embarrassing and such a disgrace to my college education. Mom, dad, I promise those five years weren’t completely wasted. Now please excuse me while I google all of the other games I can no longer remember.
After the fondue was finished and football had wrapped up, we decided to play some cards. A few ideas were thrown out, but they were either too involved or too complicated. Anna mentioned a game that she vaguely remembered where the 2 was the highest card, you tired to get rid of all your cads and certain people can make up rules along the way. The game sounded very familiar and it took me about 5 minutes to remember the name…ASS HOLE. I am so ashamed to admit it, but the name of my favorite drinking game, my life line, my claim to fame in college had escaped me. But that is not where my disgrace ended. Oh no! I couldn’t remember all of the rules that I could so fondly recite under any circumstances or conditions just four years prior. So we did what any group of late-twenty-somethings would do…we googled the rules to ASS HOLE. Thank god for Wikipedia.
So embarrassing and such a disgrace to my college education. Mom, dad, I promise those five years weren’t completely wasted. Now please excuse me while I google all of the other games I can no longer remember.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Roller Disco…Really?
One of the great things about Europe is that everything is so close, so a trip to London can be planned in a day. For instance, Kim, my co-worker, and I found out on Wednesday that we needed to be in London that Thursday and Friday. I quickly called my buddy Greg in London to see if he was around Friday night. The answer was yes, so the flight was booked returning on Saturday morning. I was informed though, that Friday night we were going to roller disco as part of Katie’s (Greg’s New Zealand roommate) going away party. I packed accordingly.
After work on Friday I hopped on the DLR and some how made my way from Canary Wharf to Greg’s house in North London all by myself. I was so impressed! I found Greg in the kitchen cooking fajitas and I knew the night would be good…I hadn’t had good Mexican food in four months! After dinner, Katie, Caroline and I decided to get ready, with the help of Susie’s (another roommate) closet. I chose leggings, leg warmers and chunky red jewelry to go with my mini skirt and off-shoulder sweater. Yes, you read that correctly, I was wearing not only legging but LEG WARMERS!! My friends at home would disown me.
All decked out in our outfits we headed to the bar. Roller disco turned out to be an old warehouse by Kings Cross with three roller rinks; in three different rooms with different music and you wear roller skates the entire time. Good in theory until you put on your first pair of roller skates since you were 12 and add in a few alcoholic beverages. My first few laps around the place were unimpressive to say the least. Two double vodkas later, I was on my way. Unfortunately, no matter how competent and comfortable you may feel, there is always some schmuck behind you who is less coordinated and more drunk…at some point you are going to get taking out. I somehow avoided all collisions, but the rest weren’t as fortunate. Helen was taken down twice by the same guy. After three hours and countless laps, I became a believer in roller skating and would definitely recommend it to anyone who happens to be in London on a Friday night.
On a side note: while the trip from Canary Wharf to Greg’s house was flawless, the return trip to London City Airport was a complete disaster. I ended up missing my flight due to maintenance on the DLR (my flight also happened to be the last flight out of LCY for the entire day). Thankfully I was rebooked onto another flight later that afternoon out of Heathrow. Not so thankfully, was the price I had to pay for the car service to get me there. As much as I travel and think I am competent at getting around, this trip and Italy would beg to differ.
After work on Friday I hopped on the DLR and some how made my way from Canary Wharf to Greg’s house in North London all by myself. I was so impressed! I found Greg in the kitchen cooking fajitas and I knew the night would be good…I hadn’t had good Mexican food in four months! After dinner, Katie, Caroline and I decided to get ready, with the help of Susie’s (another roommate) closet. I chose leggings, leg warmers and chunky red jewelry to go with my mini skirt and off-shoulder sweater. Yes, you read that correctly, I was wearing not only legging but LEG WARMERS!! My friends at home would disown me.
All decked out in our outfits we headed to the bar. Roller disco turned out to be an old warehouse by Kings Cross with three roller rinks; in three different rooms with different music and you wear roller skates the entire time. Good in theory until you put on your first pair of roller skates since you were 12 and add in a few alcoholic beverages. My first few laps around the place were unimpressive to say the least. Two double vodkas later, I was on my way. Unfortunately, no matter how competent and comfortable you may feel, there is always some schmuck behind you who is less coordinated and more drunk…at some point you are going to get taking out. I somehow avoided all collisions, but the rest weren’t as fortunate. Helen was taken down twice by the same guy. After three hours and countless laps, I became a believer in roller skating and would definitely recommend it to anyone who happens to be in London on a Friday night.
On a side note: while the trip from Canary Wharf to Greg’s house was flawless, the return trip to London City Airport was a complete disaster. I ended up missing my flight due to maintenance on the DLR (my flight also happened to be the last flight out of LCY for the entire day). Thankfully I was rebooked onto another flight later that afternoon out of Heathrow. Not so thankfully, was the price I had to pay for the car service to get me there. As much as I travel and think I am competent at getting around, this trip and Italy would beg to differ.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Dublin (round two)
Just like Oktoberfest in Munich confirmed my German roots, the pubs in Dublin and the sweet taste of Guinness was more convincing of my Irish heritage than my stubborn red hair. The trip to Dublin marked my second trip to Ireland and my second time to my favorite pubs in the world…two words…Temple Bar.
Being my second trip to Dublin, I felt a sense of obligation to show my fellow travelers (the Blocks, Jason, Esther and Erin) a good time. So as soon as we landed and figured out a hotel we headed directly to Temple Bar for dinner at Quays Bar (pronounced Keys); which was of course followed up by a pub crawl through Temple Bar. This would not be my first pub crawl in the area. My brother Cody and I tackled these bars four years earlier, with similar results. To digress for a moment, in 2003 Cody and I (and parents in tow) spent our last day of our country-wide pub crawl in Ireland touring the Guinness factory followed up by drinks at the oldest Irish pub. We left the parents after pints at Auld Dubliners and Cody and I slowly made our way down the Temple Bar area stopping off at Quays Bar, Temple Bar, some other bar and ending in Fitzpatricks listening to two guys play any and all requests on acoustic guitars. We made it back to the hotel by 4 am, in time to pack and make our 8 am flight.
Ah, good times…But yet, that was 4 years ago (when I was still in my prime). This time around, our Friday night pub crawl took us from Quays Bar to Temple Bar to Fitzpatricks. Mellow considering our group, but apparently our minds were still relishing on the amazing Guinness and meat stew we had eaten for dinner.
With a full nights sleep, the crew was able to get up in time for breakfast and buy tickets for the big red bus tours. Half way through the tour, we got off at Grafton Street so the girls could shop and the guys could…well I am not sure what they did…there was talk about seeing Trinity College and the book of Kells. Shopping for the girls turned into Irish Coffees at O’Donohughes. We met back up with the guys, hopped back on the bus and were off to the Guinness factory for the highlight of the city.
Again, the girls went tearing through the exhibits in search of our free beer while the guys lagged behind to take in the facts and sights that the tour provides. (Talk about role reversals, I thought the women are normally into the touristy things and guys just want to find the bar or maybe that is just my family) While in the bar, enjoying our free drinks, I happened to meet (aka interrupt a conversation) a group of Canadians who were hockey players in Denmark. Random! Erin exchanged numbers and we made plans to meet up later.
In the meantime, it was about 6pm, we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. So we hurried home to get changed and find a place to eat. Unfortunately the process to find a place to eat turned into a two hour ordeal, with tempers and patience failing due to lack of food…apparently Guinness DOESN’T constitute a meal. After struggling to find a place that 1) was Irish, 2) could serve us within the hour and 3) had the right atmosphere, I got impatient and mentioned a great Irish brewpub called Messrs MacGuire, where I had been four years earlier with my family. BIG MISTAKE. Apparently a lot can change in four years, such as the menu and quality of food. Let’s just say we left the place two hours later still hungry (four of the seven dishes were sent back after waiting an hour to get them) and more sober (yes, a brew pub managed to run out of stout beer on a Saturday night).
Half of the crew wanted to head back to Quays Pub for food since we knew it was good. While they went upstairs to eat, Erin, Esther and I headed to the bar. A few drinks later, we were back in the game and the dinner crew headed downstairs. From Quays Bar we headed to Club M to meet up with Hockey Players. The dinner crew decided they didn’t want to go to a club and left to find a more traditional Irish Pub, I got Erin and Esther in for free. From there, the night got really interesting. The evening can be summarized by a montage of pink hot shorts with matching bathing suit tops, leopard print spandex dresses and some of the most impressive Irish accents I had ever heard… we are talking back country authentic Irish. To round out the experience, there was what appeared to be a Russian trani who was very aggressive in showing an interest in the Hockey guys we were hanging out with. The look of terror on their faces was priceless.
Overall the experience was completely different than my first trip to Ireland, but still 100% Irish. Ready and willing for round three!!
Being my second trip to Dublin, I felt a sense of obligation to show my fellow travelers (the Blocks, Jason, Esther and Erin) a good time. So as soon as we landed and figured out a hotel we headed directly to Temple Bar for dinner at Quays Bar (pronounced Keys); which was of course followed up by a pub crawl through Temple Bar. This would not be my first pub crawl in the area. My brother Cody and I tackled these bars four years earlier, with similar results. To digress for a moment, in 2003 Cody and I (and parents in tow) spent our last day of our country-wide pub crawl in Ireland touring the Guinness factory followed up by drinks at the oldest Irish pub. We left the parents after pints at Auld Dubliners and Cody and I slowly made our way down the Temple Bar area stopping off at Quays Bar, Temple Bar, some other bar and ending in Fitzpatricks listening to two guys play any and all requests on acoustic guitars. We made it back to the hotel by 4 am, in time to pack and make our 8 am flight.
Ah, good times…But yet, that was 4 years ago (when I was still in my prime). This time around, our Friday night pub crawl took us from Quays Bar to Temple Bar to Fitzpatricks. Mellow considering our group, but apparently our minds were still relishing on the amazing Guinness and meat stew we had eaten for dinner.
With a full nights sleep, the crew was able to get up in time for breakfast and buy tickets for the big red bus tours. Half way through the tour, we got off at Grafton Street so the girls could shop and the guys could…well I am not sure what they did…there was talk about seeing Trinity College and the book of Kells. Shopping for the girls turned into Irish Coffees at O’Donohughes. We met back up with the guys, hopped back on the bus and were off to the Guinness factory for the highlight of the city.
Again, the girls went tearing through the exhibits in search of our free beer while the guys lagged behind to take in the facts and sights that the tour provides. (Talk about role reversals, I thought the women are normally into the touristy things and guys just want to find the bar or maybe that is just my family) While in the bar, enjoying our free drinks, I happened to meet (aka interrupt a conversation) a group of Canadians who were hockey players in Denmark. Random! Erin exchanged numbers and we made plans to meet up later.
In the meantime, it was about 6pm, we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. So we hurried home to get changed and find a place to eat. Unfortunately the process to find a place to eat turned into a two hour ordeal, with tempers and patience failing due to lack of food…apparently Guinness DOESN’T constitute a meal. After struggling to find a place that 1) was Irish, 2) could serve us within the hour and 3) had the right atmosphere, I got impatient and mentioned a great Irish brewpub called Messrs MacGuire, where I had been four years earlier with my family. BIG MISTAKE. Apparently a lot can change in four years, such as the menu and quality of food. Let’s just say we left the place two hours later still hungry (four of the seven dishes were sent back after waiting an hour to get them) and more sober (yes, a brew pub managed to run out of stout beer on a Saturday night).
Half of the crew wanted to head back to Quays Pub for food since we knew it was good. While they went upstairs to eat, Erin, Esther and I headed to the bar. A few drinks later, we were back in the game and the dinner crew headed downstairs. From Quays Bar we headed to Club M to meet up with Hockey Players. The dinner crew decided they didn’t want to go to a club and left to find a more traditional Irish Pub, I got Erin and Esther in for free. From there, the night got really interesting. The evening can be summarized by a montage of pink hot shorts with matching bathing suit tops, leopard print spandex dresses and some of the most impressive Irish accents I had ever heard… we are talking back country authentic Irish. To round out the experience, there was what appeared to be a Russian trani who was very aggressive in showing an interest in the Hockey guys we were hanging out with. The look of terror on their faces was priceless.
Overall the experience was completely different than my first trip to Ireland, but still 100% Irish. Ready and willing for round three!!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Lunch in Liechtenstein
Ever since moving abroad, I set the goal to visit every European country by the end of my two year rotation. With 8 already visited prior to the rotation, it seemed like a challenging, but accomplishable goal.
So given that everything shuts down in Zurich on Sundays and with nothing better to do, I proposed a lunch date to Vaduz, Lichtenstein with my friend Luke. And much to my delight he thought the idea was even more fantastic than I did. We agreed on Friday to go the following Sunday.
Luke has a car so we decided to drive instead of taking the train to the Lichtenstein bus (we should have had some idea about the size of the country given there is no train station in the entire country). 30 minutes and 5 wrong turns after being picked up we found our way to the highway and were on our way there.
“There” turned out to be a one town country with a small pedestrian street, three restaurants and a museum; plus a castle on the hill and alleged wine tasting (although we didn’t find out about the wine tasting until a week after the voyage). The town/capital/country was approximately the size of Dunsmuir, CA. For those who don’t know where that is…that summarizes how small Liechtenstein is. After approximately 15 minutes (the amount of time it took to walk through town) we had officially seen everything. Therefore to complete the trip, we sat down to a beautiful traditional lunch of pizza and hamburgers. We left shortly after lunch, mission accomplished.
So given that everything shuts down in Zurich on Sundays and with nothing better to do, I proposed a lunch date to Vaduz, Lichtenstein with my friend Luke. And much to my delight he thought the idea was even more fantastic than I did. We agreed on Friday to go the following Sunday.
Luke has a car so we decided to drive instead of taking the train to the Lichtenstein bus (we should have had some idea about the size of the country given there is no train station in the entire country). 30 minutes and 5 wrong turns after being picked up we found our way to the highway and were on our way there.
“There” turned out to be a one town country with a small pedestrian street, three restaurants and a museum; plus a castle on the hill and alleged wine tasting (although we didn’t find out about the wine tasting until a week after the voyage). The town/capital/country was approximately the size of Dunsmuir, CA. For those who don’t know where that is…that summarizes how small Liechtenstein is. After approximately 15 minutes (the amount of time it took to walk through town) we had officially seen everything. Therefore to complete the trip, we sat down to a beautiful traditional lunch of pizza and hamburgers. We left shortly after lunch, mission accomplished.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Czech Please
This past weekend I went to Prague for Saturday night…that is correct I went to the Czech Republic for one night. I considered it my “One Night Only” weekend. The rest of the crew (Braden and Anna Mark, Shannon and Andy Block and Josh) were able to take Monday off, prompting the trip and I decided not to miss the opportunity. So at 9am Saturday morning we landed in Prague, with Czech Crowns, no hotel reservation and a vague idea where to go. This is my idea of traveling (well sort of).
We hopped in a cab and got dropped off just outside the city center. Please don’t mistake that with we asked to get dropped off outside the city center. No, no, the cab driver pulled over, told us what direction to head and took off. Yup, we were off to a great start. We spent the first hour wandering around the city looking for the perfect hotel. And surprisingly we found it (finally my bad luck with traveling is wearing off – read the Naples entries to get an idea). After dropping off our bags we hit the city on foot checking out the basic sites such as the Charles Bridge and Castle, while stopping for refreshments every 100m.
Our afternoon drinks turned into happy hour which turned into dinner and then finally a desire to go out. Based on recommendations from two friends (via text message during dinner when they found out I was in Prague for the night) and Andy’s vague recollection of a big club by the river we set off. But not without roadies….four red bulls and a fifth of vodka for the girls and we were set. Unfortunately the liquor store didn’t have cups or straws so we made do and mixed the drinks in the can. It sounded great at the time, until some local Czechs gave us the sigh of disapproval.
The club was amazing; four floors of music ranging from Top 40, Disco, Rap and House. We danced the night away on the top floor to Britney, Timbaland and all of our favorites (literally all of our favorites, the DJ was all too willing to play anything we requested). Needing a break we decided to check out the first floor but ended up stopping on the third and dancing to the 80s. Shocking, me in a different country rocking out to Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer and singing at the top of my lungs. At this point though the normal 80s lover than I am took things to a whole new level, what with 4 red bull vodkas down. I just wanted to dance. And that is what I did. (Think Tommy Boy and “Maniac”) I was that random American girl dancing like an arse, running in place to the song. To round things out nicely, Braden performed his best air guitar to La Bamba for some older women.
After the club and on our way home we decided to check out Goldfinger, a gentleman’s club across the street from our hotel. The entrance fee was 450crowns (or about CHF30) per person but given the late hour (and our state of mind) it seemed too high. We eventually talked the bouncer down to 500 total plus 450 for a bottle of champagne (about CHF60 in total for everyone). Apparently we thought this was still too high and walked away. It was probably for the best, but looking back I don’t think we will ever get a deal like that again.
Instead we went back to the room and crashed for the night. Well, at least most people did. I spent most of the night with the Red Bull shakes, swearing off the juice for ever. And unfortunately it didn’t get better the rest of the night or following day. But thankfully, everyone else was just as wrecked. Yes, misery loves company.
We finally got out of the room Sunday in time for a late lunch in the main square. Accidentally we sat in front of the famous astrological clock and had ideal seats to watch “death” ring the bell for 3 o’clock. Like I said we were all wrecked and moving a little slow. After lunch the girls attempted shopping but ended it quickly in favor of a quick nap. I left the group sleeping, hopped in cab to the airport and I was home in time for dinner.
We hopped in a cab and got dropped off just outside the city center. Please don’t mistake that with we asked to get dropped off outside the city center. No, no, the cab driver pulled over, told us what direction to head and took off. Yup, we were off to a great start. We spent the first hour wandering around the city looking for the perfect hotel. And surprisingly we found it (finally my bad luck with traveling is wearing off – read the Naples entries to get an idea). After dropping off our bags we hit the city on foot checking out the basic sites such as the Charles Bridge and Castle, while stopping for refreshments every 100m.
Our afternoon drinks turned into happy hour which turned into dinner and then finally a desire to go out. Based on recommendations from two friends (via text message during dinner when they found out I was in Prague for the night) and Andy’s vague recollection of a big club by the river we set off. But not without roadies….four red bulls and a fifth of vodka for the girls and we were set. Unfortunately the liquor store didn’t have cups or straws so we made do and mixed the drinks in the can. It sounded great at the time, until some local Czechs gave us the sigh of disapproval.
The club was amazing; four floors of music ranging from Top 40, Disco, Rap and House. We danced the night away on the top floor to Britney, Timbaland and all of our favorites (literally all of our favorites, the DJ was all too willing to play anything we requested). Needing a break we decided to check out the first floor but ended up stopping on the third and dancing to the 80s. Shocking, me in a different country rocking out to Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer and singing at the top of my lungs. At this point though the normal 80s lover than I am took things to a whole new level, what with 4 red bull vodkas down. I just wanted to dance. And that is what I did. (Think Tommy Boy and “Maniac”) I was that random American girl dancing like an arse, running in place to the song. To round things out nicely, Braden performed his best air guitar to La Bamba for some older women.
After the club and on our way home we decided to check out Goldfinger, a gentleman’s club across the street from our hotel. The entrance fee was 450crowns (or about CHF30) per person but given the late hour (and our state of mind) it seemed too high. We eventually talked the bouncer down to 500 total plus 450 for a bottle of champagne (about CHF60 in total for everyone). Apparently we thought this was still too high and walked away. It was probably for the best, but looking back I don’t think we will ever get a deal like that again.
Instead we went back to the room and crashed for the night. Well, at least most people did. I spent most of the night with the Red Bull shakes, swearing off the juice for ever. And unfortunately it didn’t get better the rest of the night or following day. But thankfully, everyone else was just as wrecked. Yes, misery loves company.
We finally got out of the room Sunday in time for a late lunch in the main square. Accidentally we sat in front of the famous astrological clock and had ideal seats to watch “death” ring the bell for 3 o’clock. Like I said we were all wrecked and moving a little slow. After lunch the girls attempted shopping but ended it quickly in favor of a quick nap. I left the group sleeping, hopped in cab to the airport and I was home in time for dinner.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Palermo
“Known for compelling contradictions,.. however, its notoriety has originated more from assassinations, corruption and decrepitude.” Palermo, Italy, Lonely Planet 2007.
Kelly and I arrived in Palermo with no travel books, no maps and no plans other than to spend the week in Italy traveling from Sicily up to the Amalfi Coast and ending up in Rome the following weekend. Had we bought a travel book prior to the trip, we would not have chosen to go to Palermo.
Faced with no clue where we were, we asked the front reception of our hotel for a map and suggestions as to what to see. We were told about a couple of streets that had good shopping, one with a market and two streets to stay away from (however no street names were given, just simply “you will know that you shouldn’t be there”). Apparently we didn’t know though, because twenty minutes later we ended up exactly where we shouldn’t be: down a small deserted alley with garbage dumpsters, stray dogs, a man selling used suitcases and a truck coming at us so large that both the truck and us would not fit in the alley at the same time. “Luckily” the truck hit the side of building while trying to make a turn and we escaped.
After finding our way out of the ghetto and at a “garden” (I use that term loosely) the reception had told us about, we decided to congratulate ourselves with a beer. We picked the least scary looking bar, grabbed a beer and sat outside to enjoy the scenery (which consisted of a busy street/borderline freeway and the docks). To illustrate the type of fine establishment we were in, I experienced first hand the worst bathroom of my entire life: no lights, no windows and no toilet paper…yup I had to go pee in the dark using nothing but my cell phone for light. I kept on waiting for a large bug or rat to come out and attack me.
From the bar we went to check the ferry times to Naples for the following day, only to find out that the ferry leaves every night at 8pm. We bought our ticket at that moment for the ferry out that night. We had seen enough of Palermo. Of course after we bought the ticket we found a cute part of town just two blocks from our hotel in the opposite direction the receptionist told us to go.
It didn’t matter though, we grabbed our belongings, hailed a cab and hopped on the overnight ferry to Naples, with the dog from the ghetto showing up to give us a proper send off.
Kelly and I arrived in Palermo with no travel books, no maps and no plans other than to spend the week in Italy traveling from Sicily up to the Amalfi Coast and ending up in Rome the following weekend. Had we bought a travel book prior to the trip, we would not have chosen to go to Palermo.
Faced with no clue where we were, we asked the front reception of our hotel for a map and suggestions as to what to see. We were told about a couple of streets that had good shopping, one with a market and two streets to stay away from (however no street names were given, just simply “you will know that you shouldn’t be there”). Apparently we didn’t know though, because twenty minutes later we ended up exactly where we shouldn’t be: down a small deserted alley with garbage dumpsters, stray dogs, a man selling used suitcases and a truck coming at us so large that both the truck and us would not fit in the alley at the same time. “Luckily” the truck hit the side of building while trying to make a turn and we escaped.
After finding our way out of the ghetto and at a “garden” (I use that term loosely) the reception had told us about, we decided to congratulate ourselves with a beer. We picked the least scary looking bar, grabbed a beer and sat outside to enjoy the scenery (which consisted of a busy street/borderline freeway and the docks). To illustrate the type of fine establishment we were in, I experienced first hand the worst bathroom of my entire life: no lights, no windows and no toilet paper…yup I had to go pee in the dark using nothing but my cell phone for light. I kept on waiting for a large bug or rat to come out and attack me.
From the bar we went to check the ferry times to Naples for the following day, only to find out that the ferry leaves every night at 8pm. We bought our ticket at that moment for the ferry out that night. We had seen enough of Palermo. Of course after we bought the ticket we found a cute part of town just two blocks from our hotel in the opposite direction the receptionist told us to go.
It didn’t matter though, we grabbed our belongings, hailed a cab and hopped on the overnight ferry to Naples, with the dog from the ghetto showing up to give us a proper send off.
Positano – Day 1
We arrived in Naples the following morning and were greeted by our friend the stray dog’s mangy cousin. We walked off the ferry and found ourselves in the industrial part of town and somehow managed to find the bus station a few hundred meters away. The bus for Positano didn’t leave for two hours so we left our bags with the station attendant in the janitors closet (please keep this in mind when reading the following story about our second time to Naples, all I can say is janitors closet) and headed across the wharf to the bar for a coffee and breakfast.
We must have been the first American and/or girls to set foot inside the establishment based on the stares and finally, warm welcome we received. We felt in our element, what with the two of us hanging out with 15 Italian dock workers who spoke no English in a tiny café the size of my closet, standing up drinking our coffee and eating croissants.
Back at the bus stop we grabbed our stuff and headed outside to wait for the bus. To ensure we didn’t miss it Kelly and I sat down on our luggage in front of a parked bus and in plain view of all arriving buses. (Well, I sat on my luggage, Kelly somehow missed her bag and ended up on the ground, resulting in a less than graceful spread eagle) When the time came for our departure however, we still didn’t see our bus. At the same time the bus behind us had started up so we decided to get out of its way and thankfully Kelly looked in the window and realized we had been sitting in front of our bus the entire time. Whoops!
The bus ride was about 2 ½ hours and took us along the coast line of Italy. We arrived in Positano to find a cute fishing village which had grown significantly due to tourism, a great hotel room and a balcony with the most amazing views of the town and ocean. Finally, we could relax and enjoy our trip. We spent the day exploring the city and finished off the evening with a bottle of wine on our balcony and a great dinner in town.
We must have been the first American and/or girls to set foot inside the establishment based on the stares and finally, warm welcome we received. We felt in our element, what with the two of us hanging out with 15 Italian dock workers who spoke no English in a tiny café the size of my closet, standing up drinking our coffee and eating croissants.
Back at the bus stop we grabbed our stuff and headed outside to wait for the bus. To ensure we didn’t miss it Kelly and I sat down on our luggage in front of a parked bus and in plain view of all arriving buses. (Well, I sat on my luggage, Kelly somehow missed her bag and ended up on the ground, resulting in a less than graceful spread eagle) When the time came for our departure however, we still didn’t see our bus. At the same time the bus behind us had started up so we decided to get out of its way and thankfully Kelly looked in the window and realized we had been sitting in front of our bus the entire time. Whoops!
The bus ride was about 2 ½ hours and took us along the coast line of Italy. We arrived in Positano to find a cute fishing village which had grown significantly due to tourism, a great hotel room and a balcony with the most amazing views of the town and ocean. Finally, we could relax and enjoy our trip. We spent the day exploring the city and finished off the evening with a bottle of wine on our balcony and a great dinner in town.
Positano – Day 2
Since the first day in Positano was absolutely beautiful, we were planning on spending the entire day on the beach doing nothing. Of course, with a plan like that, it had to rain. So, to make the best of the weather, Kelly and I went shopping and then headed to Hotel Poseidon for massages. We felt we needed to treat ourselves after Palermo. Now, I am consider myself pretty experienced in massages and typically know the drill and what to expect …apparently the Italians do things a bit differently. I left the massage feeling a little uncomfortable, a bit violated, and definitely confused. Kelly didn’t have quite the experience, however she did wake up alone in the room, unsure where she was, what had happened and how long she had been asleep. Aren’t you at least suppose to be taken to dinner first?!
The day and entire trip did show signs of promise later that night though. Kelly and I again had a bottle of wine on the balcony along with some snacks (olives, crackers, etc) so we weren’t entirely hungry for dinner. Earlier that day we had noticed that Hotel Poseidon had live music that night in the bar, so we headed there for some piano lounge/bar music. The evening turned into the best girl date ever. We sat outside by the pool, in comfy chairs drinking grappa, eating free snacks and listening to the pianist who would play any song we requested. To make the evening even more magical, the hotel owner’s dog (a cute border collie) hung out with us all night. It turns out the owner was single but out of town… I left Kelly’s number with the waiter in hopes of them falling hopelessly in love and having their wedding in Positano at the hotel. I, of course, would be not only invited, but honored during the ceremony.
But of course, like the rest of the trip, the good luck could only last so long…While Kelly was biting into a piece of bruschetta, her veneer on her front tooth popped off leaving her smile less than camera worthy. Thankfully the veneer itself didn’t break and could hopefully be fixed the next morning. She put it back in (although temporarily) and we headed home. Avoiding disaster was not over yet though. While Kelly was washing her face and I was brushing my teeth, the veneer somehow feel out again, but this time it went down the sink drain. Yes, the situation went from fixable to almost impossible.
But somehow we again managed to pull through. We plugged the sink immediately and the following morning asked the old handy man who ran the hotel maintenance to undo the pipes. After shaking the pipe for about five minutes, the veneer finally came out, and the situation was momentarily saved.
The day and entire trip did show signs of promise later that night though. Kelly and I again had a bottle of wine on the balcony along with some snacks (olives, crackers, etc) so we weren’t entirely hungry for dinner. Earlier that day we had noticed that Hotel Poseidon had live music that night in the bar, so we headed there for some piano lounge/bar music. The evening turned into the best girl date ever. We sat outside by the pool, in comfy chairs drinking grappa, eating free snacks and listening to the pianist who would play any song we requested. To make the evening even more magical, the hotel owner’s dog (a cute border collie) hung out with us all night. It turns out the owner was single but out of town… I left Kelly’s number with the waiter in hopes of them falling hopelessly in love and having their wedding in Positano at the hotel. I, of course, would be not only invited, but honored during the ceremony.
But of course, like the rest of the trip, the good luck could only last so long…While Kelly was biting into a piece of bruschetta, her veneer on her front tooth popped off leaving her smile less than camera worthy. Thankfully the veneer itself didn’t break and could hopefully be fixed the next morning. She put it back in (although temporarily) and we headed home. Avoiding disaster was not over yet though. While Kelly was washing her face and I was brushing my teeth, the veneer somehow feel out again, but this time it went down the sink drain. Yes, the situation went from fixable to almost impossible.
But somehow we again managed to pull through. We plugged the sink immediately and the following morning asked the old handy man who ran the hotel maintenance to undo the pipes. After shaking the pipe for about five minutes, the veneer finally came out, and the situation was momentarily saved.
Capri
The following morning we had planned on taking the ferry to Capri for the night, however we first needed to find a dentist to get Kelly fixed and camera ready. Although we had seen three dentist offices in Positano, none of them apparently work on Thursdays. We did find a dentist in Sorrento that could see Kelly that afternoon. While Kelly was working out the dentist situation I made friends with a Londoner (who we fondly referred to as “Mugby”) who had spent four nights in the same hotel as us and was previously in Naples which he absolutely loved (although I am not sure why based on what I had heard, read and seen).
Based on the ferry schedules, our luggage and timing, we took the ferry to Capri to check into the hotel and were then planning on taking another ferry to Sorrento. Thankfully upon arrival in Capri and talking with a pharmacist, we located a dentist on Capri who could see Kelly that afternoon. His name was Dr. Mercato and all we had was a phone number and the fact that he was located in Ana Capri just up the hill from our hotel.
Those were just minor details though, as it appeared the entire island knew Dr. Mercato. We set off up the hill to Capri to explore and then off to Anacapri for the dentist. We had to ask about 5 different people for directions to his office (which again, we didn’t have an address, just a name) but they all smiled, exclaimed “Ah! Dr. Mercato! Of course, he is just down that way”. His office was located on a small beautiful pedestrian street with trees lining both sides so densely that the sun barely shone. We buzzed the office from the front gate and were let into a beautiful traditional Italian estate (or least what I would imagine a traditional Italian estate to look like).
While I didn’t get to see the inside of the main house, the office, was rather nice and although Kelly had to loose a tooth I was happy to actually see a home in Italy.
Dr. Mercato was able to fix Kelly up in 20 minutes, no paper work and for 30 Euros. Italy’s health care at its finest.
Based on the ferry schedules, our luggage and timing, we took the ferry to Capri to check into the hotel and were then planning on taking another ferry to Sorrento. Thankfully upon arrival in Capri and talking with a pharmacist, we located a dentist on Capri who could see Kelly that afternoon. His name was Dr. Mercato and all we had was a phone number and the fact that he was located in Ana Capri just up the hill from our hotel.
Those were just minor details though, as it appeared the entire island knew Dr. Mercato. We set off up the hill to Capri to explore and then off to Anacapri for the dentist. We had to ask about 5 different people for directions to his office (which again, we didn’t have an address, just a name) but they all smiled, exclaimed “Ah! Dr. Mercato! Of course, he is just down that way”. His office was located on a small beautiful pedestrian street with trees lining both sides so densely that the sun barely shone. We buzzed the office from the front gate and were let into a beautiful traditional Italian estate (or least what I would imagine a traditional Italian estate to look like).
While I didn’t get to see the inside of the main house, the office, was rather nice and although Kelly had to loose a tooth I was happy to actually see a home in Italy.
Dr. Mercato was able to fix Kelly up in 20 minutes, no paper work and for 30 Euros. Italy’s health care at its finest.
Naples...Oh how I despise you!
Once again we found ourselves on yet another ferry to Naples Friday morning where we were to then catch a train to Rome. The ferry was uneventful, and I wish I could say the same about the rest of the day. Things went down hill quickly. We landed in the touristy port of Naples (a stark contrast to the industrial port we had landed just days prior) and grabbed a quick breakfast and some America magazines. The magazines would be my last purchase of the trip.
We hopped on the tram that would take us to train station, apparently 20 minutes away. The tram was incredibly packed and Kelly and I were trying to keep an eye on all of our belongings without knocking over the old Italians. About 5 minutes into the tram ride, a woman next to me taps me on my arm and says “you might want to be careful, someone just had their hand in your purse” I got a little worried, but the purse was practically zipped up, I had a sweatshirt inside it and can never find anything in it when I am looking. But she insisted on my checking…and of course, my wallet was gone. I had officially gotten pick-pocketed. And this is of course right after Kelly and I had discussed how careful we normal are when traveling. Unfortunately, this time, I hadn’t taken any precautions. All of my money, credit cards and information were gone. I did thankfully still have my passport, cell phone and camera.
I was obviously shaken up by the experience, but at the same time I was thoroughly impressed by the skill of these street criminals. To add salt to the wounds though, the woman who initially alerted me (but evaded the question as to why she didn’t stop it) proceeded to tell the entire tram what had happened, gesturing wildly, pointing in my direction and telling everyone she had seen it happen.
But of course my bad luck didn’t end there…5 minutes before the train station, a young man standing next to me ended up puking all over the wall behind me, spraying yack everywhere and onto me; once at the train station I went to the police booth to report the incident and they told me they couldn’t help, I had to go to a different police station (apparently they were only pretend cops); and finally we were stuck in a 6 person train cabin with a loud Italian grandmother who knew everyone and told everyone that we were “Indiano” and from “New Jersey” (I guess that is why the tickets were so cheap).
I was ready to get the hell out of dodge and on to Rome. Of course there was still a two hour train ride, phone calls to cancel my credit cards (a BIG THANK YOU to Greg for looking up all of those phone numbers for me while translating what the annoying Italian grandmother was saying), and assessment of available money.
We hopped on the tram that would take us to train station, apparently 20 minutes away. The tram was incredibly packed and Kelly and I were trying to keep an eye on all of our belongings without knocking over the old Italians. About 5 minutes into the tram ride, a woman next to me taps me on my arm and says “you might want to be careful, someone just had their hand in your purse” I got a little worried, but the purse was practically zipped up, I had a sweatshirt inside it and can never find anything in it when I am looking. But she insisted on my checking…and of course, my wallet was gone. I had officially gotten pick-pocketed. And this is of course right after Kelly and I had discussed how careful we normal are when traveling. Unfortunately, this time, I hadn’t taken any precautions. All of my money, credit cards and information were gone. I did thankfully still have my passport, cell phone and camera.
I was obviously shaken up by the experience, but at the same time I was thoroughly impressed by the skill of these street criminals. To add salt to the wounds though, the woman who initially alerted me (but evaded the question as to why she didn’t stop it) proceeded to tell the entire tram what had happened, gesturing wildly, pointing in my direction and telling everyone she had seen it happen.
But of course my bad luck didn’t end there…5 minutes before the train station, a young man standing next to me ended up puking all over the wall behind me, spraying yack everywhere and onto me; once at the train station I went to the police booth to report the incident and they told me they couldn’t help, I had to go to a different police station (apparently they were only pretend cops); and finally we were stuck in a 6 person train cabin with a loud Italian grandmother who knew everyone and told everyone that we were “Indiano” and from “New Jersey” (I guess that is why the tickets were so cheap).
I was ready to get the hell out of dodge and on to Rome. Of course there was still a two hour train ride, phone calls to cancel my credit cards (a BIG THANK YOU to Greg for looking up all of those phone numbers for me while translating what the annoying Italian grandmother was saying), and assessment of available money.
When in Rome...
One word…Roberto! Roberto our man, who checked us into our “hotel” room (more accurately described as a rented room in an apartment building, a man who embraces all things Roman. Roberto was our welcoming committee upon arrival in Rome. And a much needed welcome from the troubles in Naples (which surprisingly occurred in a time span of about 1 hour).
I LOVE ROME! I have always had a romantic vision of Italy, the food, the people, the culture, but up until Rome, I was beginning to doubt my true feeling of the country. Rome turned everything around.
We spent Friday afternoon sightseeing which consisted of checking out the Coliseum (right by our hotel) walking past the Spanish Steps and embarking on a mission to find a McDonalds. After a week of Italian food, Kelly just wanted a fish filet. The mission turned into a 30 minute war path, where I got to check out more sights (like the Fountain de Trivoli) while Kelly asked everyone in her path where the closest McDonald’s was. The problem was that there were signs everywhere saying McDonalds 500m right or 10m straight ahead, but the exact location always evaded us. I must say, those chickens nuggets had the sweet taste of victory for finally locating one.
Friday night we decided to keep it mellow, especially since we were enjoying the post McDonalds high. So we had a mellow “SF night” with the tradition Pub Crawl which consisted of me, Kelly and drinks at the following bars, in order: Trinity College, Bulldog Inn, Big Apple, Abbey Theatre, Bar de Cruce, no name bar, and Jonathon’s Angels (with the weirdest bathroom I have ever seen – think bath tube behind gates with Christmas lights, mannequins and no toilet).
Somewhere along the pub crawl we (I mean Kelly) picked up another fellow American from DC named Bobert (or Robert as he likes to go by). While Bobert might have been originally stoked to hang out with two fun American girls, I am sure his thoughts quickly changed. With nothing in our stomach but the grease from McDonald’s, Kelly and I drank enough to satisfy the thirst of the Irish Rugby team. We ended up in Bobert’s hotel room after all of the bars closed, raided his mini bar, stole his magazines and I spent an entire hour taking artistic photos of the chandelier.
I woke the following morning at 8 (after we passed out at Boberts at 4) to Kelly suggesting we head directly to the Vatican City. Now while I am not the most religious person, I can pretty much guarantee you aren’t suppose to see the pope drunk wearing clothes from the previous evening. So I ignored the request and went back to bed. We finally stumbled home to our apartment at 10 and after trying three different buildings figured out exactly what apartment building was ours. Good thing we didn’t try to find it the previous night!
Saturday turned out to be worthless. We pulled ourselves together for lunch at an Indian restaurant, slept through the afternoon, missed the open hours of Vatican city, watched an organized protest parade that lasted three hours and went past our window and then headed out for dinner and Rugby World Cup. But then again, "when in Rome..." and I think we accomplished that, because really how often do the Romans go see the pope and all of the numerous statutes. I can tell you that the Romans drink, which is why we did is as well.
We left the following morning on different flights with fond but jaded memories of Italy and trying to figure out what had happened the entire previous week. I am not sure I ever have or ever will have again a trip quiet like this one, but I will always remember it with a smile and laugh.
I LOVE ROME! I have always had a romantic vision of Italy, the food, the people, the culture, but up until Rome, I was beginning to doubt my true feeling of the country. Rome turned everything around.
We spent Friday afternoon sightseeing which consisted of checking out the Coliseum (right by our hotel) walking past the Spanish Steps and embarking on a mission to find a McDonalds. After a week of Italian food, Kelly just wanted a fish filet. The mission turned into a 30 minute war path, where I got to check out more sights (like the Fountain de Trivoli) while Kelly asked everyone in her path where the closest McDonald’s was. The problem was that there were signs everywhere saying McDonalds 500m right or 10m straight ahead, but the exact location always evaded us. I must say, those chickens nuggets had the sweet taste of victory for finally locating one.
Friday night we decided to keep it mellow, especially since we were enjoying the post McDonalds high. So we had a mellow “SF night” with the tradition Pub Crawl which consisted of me, Kelly and drinks at the following bars, in order: Trinity College, Bulldog Inn, Big Apple, Abbey Theatre, Bar de Cruce, no name bar, and Jonathon’s Angels (with the weirdest bathroom I have ever seen – think bath tube behind gates with Christmas lights, mannequins and no toilet).
Somewhere along the pub crawl we (I mean Kelly) picked up another fellow American from DC named Bobert (or Robert as he likes to go by). While Bobert might have been originally stoked to hang out with two fun American girls, I am sure his thoughts quickly changed. With nothing in our stomach but the grease from McDonald’s, Kelly and I drank enough to satisfy the thirst of the Irish Rugby team. We ended up in Bobert’s hotel room after all of the bars closed, raided his mini bar, stole his magazines and I spent an entire hour taking artistic photos of the chandelier.
I woke the following morning at 8 (after we passed out at Boberts at 4) to Kelly suggesting we head directly to the Vatican City. Now while I am not the most religious person, I can pretty much guarantee you aren’t suppose to see the pope drunk wearing clothes from the previous evening. So I ignored the request and went back to bed. We finally stumbled home to our apartment at 10 and after trying three different buildings figured out exactly what apartment building was ours. Good thing we didn’t try to find it the previous night!
Saturday turned out to be worthless. We pulled ourselves together for lunch at an Indian restaurant, slept through the afternoon, missed the open hours of Vatican city, watched an organized protest parade that lasted three hours and went past our window and then headed out for dinner and Rugby World Cup. But then again, "when in Rome..." and I think we accomplished that, because really how often do the Romans go see the pope and all of the numerous statutes. I can tell you that the Romans drink, which is why we did is as well.
We left the following morning on different flights with fond but jaded memories of Italy and trying to figure out what had happened the entire previous week. I am not sure I ever have or ever will have again a trip quiet like this one, but I will always remember it with a smile and laugh.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Lions and Dirndls and Beers…oh my! Oktoberfest 2007
What is there to say about Oktoberfest, without stating the obvious…it is a loud, messy, drunken time, with over 13 beer tents, countless beer gardens, carnival rides, sausage and of course beer, dancing on tables, singing polka and sometimes Tina Turner, drinking at 10am and lots of gorgeous people from all over Europe (or were those just the beer goggles). It embraces all things German…I am clearly German.
We (myself, Jeni* and her mom) began the debauchery on Friday morning with some pre-game shopping to pick up authentic lederhosen and dirndls (beer maid outfits) for the weekend. For Friday, Jeni and I decided to go with the lederhosen, saving the beer maid outfits for the bigger day on Saturday.
Our first stop on Friday was the Lowenbrau tent (chosen for the free drink tickets we received the night before from some drunk guys) whose symbol is a lion drinking beer. We learned quickly that the key to Oktoberfest is get a spot at a table, and the best way to get a seat is to make friends with the men sitting at those tables. We found the most welcoming men were the Italians. Although most of them didn’t speak English and converations were translated through the one friend who could we seemed to manager just fine. After Lowenbrau we ventured out to another tent (unfortunately I couldn't and still don’t remember the name) where we spent the rest of the evening dancing on tables and making friends with the Germans, Italians and Spanish. By the end of the night we had taken photos with about 50 different people who loved our lederhosen (there goes my political career.) We were in bed by 10pm.
Saturday began with dressing in our traditional dirndls and attempting to get into the HofBrau tent at 10:30 am. Unfortunately the HB tent and all others apparently filled up at 10am(and I thought WE were serious drinkers.) We made a game time decision and found a seat in the Paulaner Beer Garden and had our first beer by 11am. Jeni*’s mom showed up around 12 and snuck into the garden and around 2 I talked the bouncer into letting two additional friends in. By 6pm we decided to infiltrate the beer tent walls and get in at all costs. We somehow snuck in when the bouncer wasn’t looking, all except Jeni*’s mom. So once again, I talked the bouncer into letting her in. And of course we spent the rest of the evening dancing on tables and making friends with the Germans, Italians and Spanish and were in bed by 9pm.
Jeni* and I wrapped up the weekend with a final Sunday morning beer at the Elusive HB tent.
Overall a great weekend, one I hope to repeat next year, but possibly with table reservations to avoid lines and fears of not getting in. To sum up the experience, I went to the bathroom at one point with my full liter of beer in hand. The bathroom attendant however wouldn’t let me in with a beer so I sat it down in front of him. Upon wrapping up in the bathroom, I retrieved my beer, but being the city girl and knowing drunken guys, I made the bouncer drink some of it to ensure it was clean. Yes, that is the nature of Oktoberfest, it is a disgusting primal type experience where good judgment involves having a bouncer drink some of your beer to detect for piss. Good times.
We (myself, Jeni* and her mom) began the debauchery on Friday morning with some pre-game shopping to pick up authentic lederhosen and dirndls (beer maid outfits) for the weekend. For Friday, Jeni and I decided to go with the lederhosen, saving the beer maid outfits for the bigger day on Saturday.
Our first stop on Friday was the Lowenbrau tent (chosen for the free drink tickets we received the night before from some drunk guys) whose symbol is a lion drinking beer. We learned quickly that the key to Oktoberfest is get a spot at a table, and the best way to get a seat is to make friends with the men sitting at those tables. We found the most welcoming men were the Italians. Although most of them didn’t speak English and converations were translated through the one friend who could we seemed to manager just fine. After Lowenbrau we ventured out to another tent (unfortunately I couldn't and still don’t remember the name) where we spent the rest of the evening dancing on tables and making friends with the Germans, Italians and Spanish. By the end of the night we had taken photos with about 50 different people who loved our lederhosen (there goes my political career.) We were in bed by 10pm.
Saturday began with dressing in our traditional dirndls and attempting to get into the HofBrau tent at 10:30 am. Unfortunately the HB tent and all others apparently filled up at 10am(and I thought WE were serious drinkers.) We made a game time decision and found a seat in the Paulaner Beer Garden and had our first beer by 11am. Jeni*’s mom showed up around 12 and snuck into the garden and around 2 I talked the bouncer into letting two additional friends in. By 6pm we decided to infiltrate the beer tent walls and get in at all costs. We somehow snuck in when the bouncer wasn’t looking, all except Jeni*’s mom. So once again, I talked the bouncer into letting her in. And of course we spent the rest of the evening dancing on tables and making friends with the Germans, Italians and Spanish and were in bed by 9pm.
Jeni* and I wrapped up the weekend with a final Sunday morning beer at the Elusive HB tent.
Overall a great weekend, one I hope to repeat next year, but possibly with table reservations to avoid lines and fears of not getting in. To sum up the experience, I went to the bathroom at one point with my full liter of beer in hand. The bathroom attendant however wouldn’t let me in with a beer so I sat it down in front of him. Upon wrapping up in the bathroom, I retrieved my beer, but being the city girl and knowing drunken guys, I made the bouncer drink some of it to ensure it was clean. Yes, that is the nature of Oktoberfest, it is a disgusting primal type experience where good judgment involves having a bouncer drink some of your beer to detect for piss. Good times.
Friday, September 28, 2007
I would like some Swiss and Cheese
After this past Tuesday evening, I feel the integration into Swiss life has officially begun. The night began with a new Swiss “friend” and drinks at the Storchen Bar. We had met the previous weekend at a club called Zic Zac and decided to meet up for a few drinks Tuesday night. When Tuesday finally showed up, to be quite honest I was a bit concerned given 1) I couldn’t really remember what he looked like (since I don’t trust my eye sight at 2am on a Friday without my glasses) and 2) well, I vaguely remember his English not being too strong.
Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised when I re-met him Tuesday night! (Dad don’t worry I am still coming home after my rotation). We ended up having great conversations and despite the cultural differences, (i.e. the Swiss tend to be incredibly, painfully polite) we had a few good laughs.
I ended the evening with the new Swiss, like any lady would, early (8:30) and headed off to meet my friends for my first Swiss Fondue!! I showed up a little late, but just in time to see the pot of boiling, oozing cheese set down on the table. So amazing!! I am a believer...now I just have to visit the Alps.
Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised when I re-met him Tuesday night! (Dad don’t worry I am still coming home after my rotation). We ended up having great conversations and despite the cultural differences, (i.e. the Swiss tend to be incredibly, painfully polite) we had a few good laughs.
I ended the evening with the new Swiss, like any lady would, early (8:30) and headed off to meet my friends for my first Swiss Fondue!! I showed up a little late, but just in time to see the pot of boiling, oozing cheese set down on the table. So amazing!! I am a believer...now I just have to visit the Alps.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Chip Chip Cheerio (aka my trip to London)
What a great weekend!!! To be perfectly clear, and prevent any misunderstandings, I planned this trip with only one intention. Drinking with my best guy-friend from college, Greg, who has been living in London for a little under a year. Before arriving, I specifically told Greg “no touristy things, just you and me catching up, drinking a few pints and maybe getting some Indian food.” So, based on those expectations, the weekend was an absolute success. I still don’t know where I was in London, what London is famous for or anything at all about the city. Here is what I do know after a weekend there.
Greg lives some place called Kinsten Town which is close to Camden Town (all of which are apparently in North London) Camden Town has a great bar called The Worlds End and below it a dance club called Underworld, which plays 80s rock and pop songs on Friday nights. The dance club attire allows for men to wear neon fluorescent spandex pants with matching pink shirts. Screaming/singing at the top of your lungs along to Bon Jovi is encouraged.
Greg’s flatmate Katie’s brother is dating a girl named Alice whose birthday we celebrated on Saturday night with a beautiful British Garden party. Alice’s brother, George, who is dating another American, is best friends with Katie’s ex-boyfriend. Katie promised to draw a diagram to help illustrate all of the connections. The party was located in some suburb of London about 45 away in a beautiful estate with a massive garden.
If you need a dress for your first official British Garden party, the best and cheapest place to go is TopShop. I have no idea where it is located, although I believe it is between two circuses (Picadilly and one other one). TopShop is amazing and I could easily spend an afternoon (and 500GBP) there. But I don’t recommend going hung over, after a night of singing at the top of your lungs to Bon Jovi.
Contrary to all popular fashion magazines in the US it is acceptable for an American girl to wear leggings under a dress to a garden party. I tested this theory first hand after breaking down and buying my first pair of leggings since 5th grade.
When leaving the suburbs and trying to get back into London on a Saturday night, don’t always believe the information online. The last train in facts leaves at 1am (not 1:12) and the next one isn’t until 6am. In case you miss the train, a cab ride is 65GBP.
And finally, London does in fact offer the best Indian food. The verdict on fish and chips will be undecided until my next trip.
Greg lives some place called Kinsten Town which is close to Camden Town (all of which are apparently in North London) Camden Town has a great bar called The Worlds End and below it a dance club called Underworld, which plays 80s rock and pop songs on Friday nights. The dance club attire allows for men to wear neon fluorescent spandex pants with matching pink shirts. Screaming/singing at the top of your lungs along to Bon Jovi is encouraged.
Greg’s flatmate Katie’s brother is dating a girl named Alice whose birthday we celebrated on Saturday night with a beautiful British Garden party. Alice’s brother, George, who is dating another American, is best friends with Katie’s ex-boyfriend. Katie promised to draw a diagram to help illustrate all of the connections. The party was located in some suburb of London about 45 away in a beautiful estate with a massive garden.
If you need a dress for your first official British Garden party, the best and cheapest place to go is TopShop. I have no idea where it is located, although I believe it is between two circuses (Picadilly and one other one). TopShop is amazing and I could easily spend an afternoon (and 500GBP) there. But I don’t recommend going hung over, after a night of singing at the top of your lungs to Bon Jovi.
Contrary to all popular fashion magazines in the US it is acceptable for an American girl to wear leggings under a dress to a garden party. I tested this theory first hand after breaking down and buying my first pair of leggings since 5th grade.
When leaving the suburbs and trying to get back into London on a Saturday night, don’t always believe the information online. The last train in facts leaves at 1am (not 1:12) and the next one isn’t until 6am. In case you miss the train, a cab ride is 65GBP.
And finally, London does in fact offer the best Indian food. The verdict on fish and chips will be undecided until my next trip.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Rhine Falls
A quicky, but worth mentioning…
On Sunday, after a completely worthless Saturday in bed, Luke (a new friend) and I went to Schaffhausen (a small medieval town on the border of Germany) to watch his friend compete in a fencing tournament and see what trouble we could get into. The tourney was held in a courtyard on top of the Menot Castle, allegedly Schaffhausen’s trademark. The morning was needless to say, surreal.
After a long Swiss lunch in town, we decided to check out the Rhine Falls since we had nothing better to do plus they were only a 10 minute drive away. The Rhine Falls are the largest waterfalls in Europe. While impressive, I am still convinced they could be taking in an intertube (think the upper Sacramento River, but a little bit bigger). Apparently the size is determined not necessarily by height but also width and Europe doesn’t have that many waterfalls. Thanks to two bridges we were able to walk from one side of the falls, over the top and to the other side where there were platforms so close to the spray you can almost touch the falls themselves. After the 50 minute walk back to where we parked, we treated ourselves to ice cream like a true Swissie would. (I can definitely get used to this lifestyle…eat, hike, ice cream).
Unfortunately, my camera has officially died (after 5 years of abuse, travel and bars) so I have no pictures to show you. But please enjoy these that I downloaded from the website.
On Sunday, after a completely worthless Saturday in bed, Luke (a new friend) and I went to Schaffhausen (a small medieval town on the border of Germany) to watch his friend compete in a fencing tournament and see what trouble we could get into. The tourney was held in a courtyard on top of the Menot Castle, allegedly Schaffhausen’s trademark. The morning was needless to say, surreal.
After a long Swiss lunch in town, we decided to check out the Rhine Falls since we had nothing better to do plus they were only a 10 minute drive away. The Rhine Falls are the largest waterfalls in Europe. While impressive, I am still convinced they could be taking in an intertube (think the upper Sacramento River, but a little bit bigger). Apparently the size is determined not necessarily by height but also width and Europe doesn’t have that many waterfalls. Thanks to two bridges we were able to walk from one side of the falls, over the top and to the other side where there were platforms so close to the spray you can almost touch the falls themselves. After the 50 minute walk back to where we parked, we treated ourselves to ice cream like a true Swissie would. (I can definitely get used to this lifestyle…eat, hike, ice cream).
Unfortunately, my camera has officially died (after 5 years of abuse, travel and bars) so I have no pictures to show you. But please enjoy these that I downloaded from the website.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
BadenFahrt
It was decided on Friday that we needed to get out of town for the weekend and check out something different. A group of us (Jason, Braden, and Braden’s wife Anna) decided on Baden, a small town located in the hills just Northeast of Zurich. We specifically chose the town because of Badenfahrt, a festival held by the town every 10 years and was ending on Sunday.
After the 15 minute train ride, Anna and I were unsure what direction to head from the train station to find the festival. So, being unsure, I went to the train station information booth and asked which way to the fair. The response I got was a look of disgust and a polite but forced “the festival is the whole town”. I clearly had no idea what I was in store.
And the guy held true to his word, the festival consumed the entire town. There were booths set up on every street selling foods from all over the world, beer tents with different themes and since it was early Sunday morning, make-shift church sermons were being held on the stages that would later hold bands and other live acts.
After grabbing some lunch we headed over to the parade route to get a good spot to watch the parade, which celebrated the diversity and different cultures of the world. We were quickly approached by a young woman requesting CHF 10 for a pin, the required fee to attend the festival. Thinking it was a scam we told her we were leaving and instead walked further down the parade route.
Apparently it wasn’t a scam, and soon everyone was wearing the pin (obviously nothing is free in Switzerland). So to avoid the pin lady and her friends, we headed to an outdoor bar with a great view of the parade. We ended up watching only half of the TWO-HOUR long parade, walked through the carnival and hopped on the train back home.
After the 15 minute train ride, Anna and I were unsure what direction to head from the train station to find the festival. So, being unsure, I went to the train station information booth and asked which way to the fair. The response I got was a look of disgust and a polite but forced “the festival is the whole town”. I clearly had no idea what I was in store.
And the guy held true to his word, the festival consumed the entire town. There were booths set up on every street selling foods from all over the world, beer tents with different themes and since it was early Sunday morning, make-shift church sermons were being held on the stages that would later hold bands and other live acts.
After grabbing some lunch we headed over to the parade route to get a good spot to watch the parade, which celebrated the diversity and different cultures of the world. We were quickly approached by a young woman requesting CHF 10 for a pin, the required fee to attend the festival. Thinking it was a scam we told her we were leaving and instead walked further down the parade route.
Apparently it wasn’t a scam, and soon everyone was wearing the pin (obviously nothing is free in Switzerland). So to avoid the pin lady and her friends, we headed to an outdoor bar with a great view of the parade. We ended up watching only half of the TWO-HOUR long parade, walked through the carnival and hopped on the train back home.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
A Multicultural Saturday
What do the cheese-rolling, mid-west BBQ-ing, and Zulu dancing all have in common? They somehow all played a part in this past weekend of events. Random? Oh Yeah! I don’t think my weekend could have been anymore diverse if I tried.
On Saturday morning a group of us met up at the Bahnhof (train station) for the first annual cheese rolling competition sponsored by Emmental cheese (the original “Swiss Cheese”). The event consisted of grown men rolling wheels of cheese (approximately 100kg or 220lbs) through an obstacle course. But why cheese rolling you might ask? Well apparently the local cheese makers used to roll their cheeses from the shops to the trains in order to take them to the market. While mildly entertaining, we did not stick around for the championship.
From the train station I hoped on the S Bahn and headed down to Wadenswil for a BBQ with my Credit Suisse team co-workers. Most of the team consists of Mid-westerners and I found myself thinking I was not in Zurich, but rather in Des Moines Iowa eating hamburgers, fruit salad and watermelon. It was a nice break from bratwurst and helped to ease the mild home sick pains I was having. But of course, even though the BBQ was very American, I was still required to try the official liquor of Switzerland, Kirsch, a painfully strong and awful tasting cherry liquor.
The night was rounded off nicely with a quick glass of wine with my land lord (and owner of the building) Helen and her 16 South African friends at the house. Helen is Swiss, but grew up in South Africa and had friends in town visiting. By the time I got to the party, the fondue had been consumed, along with Kirsch and by the looks of things about a case of wine. The guests were in a dancing mood and feeling nostalgic for their home. One guest was familiar with the traditional Zulu dance and was kind enough to teach everyone at the party. Never in my life would I have imagined myself in Zurich, dancing the Zulu war dance!
It is moments and experiences like these that make me realize why I am here.
On Saturday morning a group of us met up at the Bahnhof (train station) for the first annual cheese rolling competition sponsored by Emmental cheese (the original “Swiss Cheese”). The event consisted of grown men rolling wheels of cheese (approximately 100kg or 220lbs) through an obstacle course. But why cheese rolling you might ask? Well apparently the local cheese makers used to roll their cheeses from the shops to the trains in order to take them to the market. While mildly entertaining, we did not stick around for the championship.
From the train station I hoped on the S Bahn and headed down to Wadenswil for a BBQ with my Credit Suisse team co-workers. Most of the team consists of Mid-westerners and I found myself thinking I was not in Zurich, but rather in Des Moines Iowa eating hamburgers, fruit salad and watermelon. It was a nice break from bratwurst and helped to ease the mild home sick pains I was having. But of course, even though the BBQ was very American, I was still required to try the official liquor of Switzerland, Kirsch, a painfully strong and awful tasting cherry liquor.
The night was rounded off nicely with a quick glass of wine with my land lord (and owner of the building) Helen and her 16 South African friends at the house. Helen is Swiss, but grew up in South Africa and had friends in town visiting. By the time I got to the party, the fondue had been consumed, along with Kirsch and by the looks of things about a case of wine. The guests were in a dancing mood and feeling nostalgic for their home. One guest was familiar with the traditional Zulu dance and was kind enough to teach everyone at the party. Never in my life would I have imagined myself in Zurich, dancing the Zulu war dance!
It is moments and experiences like these that make me realize why I am here.
Monday, August 20, 2007
J' Heart Paris (Part Two)
After experiencing what felt like the entire subway system of Paris on the first day there, we decided to boycott the system all together and walk everywhere on Saturday. The morning started out with brunch at a typical Parisian outdoor café including coffee, croissants, baguettes with butter and jam and orange juice. I also had eggs and bacon and toast, but hey, I figured we would walk it off by lunch. From there we headed East to the Rodin Museum to see the Thinker, then on to Notre Dame, the Pompidou, up north to check out a purse store (which was closed for the month of August), after which we stopped for a snack. Snack turned into two bottles of wine and a basket of deep fried goodness (chicken tenders, onion rings and French fries).
After the replenishments, we headed West to the Louvre and the famed shopping street, Champ Elysees. Erin and I might quite possibly be the first two Americans to experience only the outside of the Louvre and more importantly, be somewhat intoxicated during that experience. We didn’t make it inside the Louvre since it would take too long and we had more important things to do (like drink wine), but we did manage to check out the food court and bathrooms. From the Louvre we headed down the Champ Elysees and ended the tour at the Arch de Triumph, where we hopped in a cab to take our tired asses back to the hotel.
A half an hour later, we were dressed and in another cab on our way to La Petite Chaise, Paris’s oldest restaurant for quite possibly one of the best “dates” of my life. Erin and I dined on escargot, smoked salmon, lamb, duck, and fruit plates, all complimented with the perfect wines. We ended the evening at a trendy bar called Budda Bar getting free drinks (and shots) from the bartenders. After which, Erin serenaded me and her sister goodnight using all of the swear words she had learned in French and calling us all dirty whores.
Sunday we enjoyed another amazing lunch, I said goodbye to this sisters and hopped on the train back to my home in Zurich.
After the replenishments, we headed West to the Louvre and the famed shopping street, Champ Elysees. Erin and I might quite possibly be the first two Americans to experience only the outside of the Louvre and more importantly, be somewhat intoxicated during that experience. We didn’t make it inside the Louvre since it would take too long and we had more important things to do (like drink wine), but we did manage to check out the food court and bathrooms. From the Louvre we headed down the Champ Elysees and ended the tour at the Arch de Triumph, where we hopped in a cab to take our tired asses back to the hotel.
A half an hour later, we were dressed and in another cab on our way to La Petite Chaise, Paris’s oldest restaurant for quite possibly one of the best “dates” of my life. Erin and I dined on escargot, smoked salmon, lamb, duck, and fruit plates, all complimented with the perfect wines. We ended the evening at a trendy bar called Budda Bar getting free drinks (and shots) from the bartenders. After which, Erin serenaded me and her sister goodnight using all of the swear words she had learned in French and calling us all dirty whores.
Sunday we enjoyed another amazing lunch, I said goodbye to this sisters and hopped on the train back to my home in Zurich.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
J' Heart Paris (Part One)
This past weekend I took the train from Zurich to Paris to meet up with one of my best friends from college, Erin, and her sister Alyssa who was studying in Paris. After waking up at 5 am and spending 4 and a half hours on the direct train, I finally made it to Paris, the one European city I normally wouldn’t have visited.
After a warm greeting from Erin and Alyssa at the train station, we decided to ditch my bag and head directly to the Eifel Tower to meet up with their aunt, uncle and two cousins. We soon discovered that the Gare-Est train station doesn’t have lockers. After we took three trams to get to the next train station (three blocks away –we took one tram the wrong way) I realized that apparently the Montgomery sisters have a terrible sense of direction.
We made it to the Eifel Tower safely though and were able to hike up the 700+ stairs to the second platform for terrific views of the city. It is a MASSIVE city. I clearly had no idea what I was in store for. After the tower, Alyssa and I headed back to grab my bag, her bag (she was moving out of the dorms that day) and were to meet up with Erin at the Hotel. So, from the Eifel Tower we hopped on the 8 tram, to the 8 to the 12 to the 2 to the 4 to get my stuff then the B to the 6 to get Alyssa’s bag and finally get a cab back to the hotel. You might be wondering if there was a typo in that we took the 8 twice. Oh no, like I mentioned, the Montgomery girls are AWFUL with directions. After consulting a map and riding the 8 for a few stops Alyssa all of sudden shouted “GET OFF THE TRAIN! WE ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY” So of course we hop off and re-consult the map to which Alyssa commented “oh never mind, we were right” so back on the 8 we went. At which point I became in charge of navigating the city.
After grabbing Erin from the hotel we went up to Montmartre, one of my favorite areas of the city to have dinner (Mussels and Fries and beef stew) and check out some really old church. (As a disclaimer, I did absolutely no research before heading to Paris and still can’t really tell you what we saw, why or where we went. I was actually okay if we didn’t make it to the Eifel Tower.
We followed dinner up with a Jazz club in San Michel, which from the ground floor seemed like absolutely nothing, but downstairs was a live band and swing dancers. (Again, not a big fan of Jazz, but the band was quite good and the dancers were fun to watch). Upon arrival, Alyssa’s friends from school whom we met there announced that there was a “live camel” in the bar. Of course to which I got REALLY excited. I mean who wouldn’t get excited about a live camel in the middle of Paris. After looking for about 2 minutes to locate this alleged animal, and to my disappointment, I realized that what I had heard as “live camel” was in fact “Neve Campbell”. Yup, I was actually disappointed that a celebrity was in our presence, not a camel.
The evening was rounded off with a fast paced swing dance with an old French man leaving me completely dizzy and slightly nauseous and crepes. This city could actually grow on me.
After a warm greeting from Erin and Alyssa at the train station, we decided to ditch my bag and head directly to the Eifel Tower to meet up with their aunt, uncle and two cousins. We soon discovered that the Gare-Est train station doesn’t have lockers. After we took three trams to get to the next train station (three blocks away –we took one tram the wrong way) I realized that apparently the Montgomery sisters have a terrible sense of direction.
We made it to the Eifel Tower safely though and were able to hike up the 700+ stairs to the second platform for terrific views of the city. It is a MASSIVE city. I clearly had no idea what I was in store for. After the tower, Alyssa and I headed back to grab my bag, her bag (she was moving out of the dorms that day) and were to meet up with Erin at the Hotel. So, from the Eifel Tower we hopped on the 8 tram, to the 8 to the 12 to the 2 to the 4 to get my stuff then the B to the 6 to get Alyssa’s bag and finally get a cab back to the hotel. You might be wondering if there was a typo in that we took the 8 twice. Oh no, like I mentioned, the Montgomery girls are AWFUL with directions. After consulting a map and riding the 8 for a few stops Alyssa all of sudden shouted “GET OFF THE TRAIN! WE ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY” So of course we hop off and re-consult the map to which Alyssa commented “oh never mind, we were right” so back on the 8 we went. At which point I became in charge of navigating the city.
After grabbing Erin from the hotel we went up to Montmartre, one of my favorite areas of the city to have dinner (Mussels and Fries and beef stew) and check out some really old church. (As a disclaimer, I did absolutely no research before heading to Paris and still can’t really tell you what we saw, why or where we went. I was actually okay if we didn’t make it to the Eifel Tower.
We followed dinner up with a Jazz club in San Michel, which from the ground floor seemed like absolutely nothing, but downstairs was a live band and swing dancers. (Again, not a big fan of Jazz, but the band was quite good and the dancers were fun to watch). Upon arrival, Alyssa’s friends from school whom we met there announced that there was a “live camel” in the bar. Of course to which I got REALLY excited. I mean who wouldn’t get excited about a live camel in the middle of Paris. After looking for about 2 minutes to locate this alleged animal, and to my disappointment, I realized that what I had heard as “live camel” was in fact “Neve Campbell”. Yup, I was actually disappointed that a celebrity was in our presence, not a camel.
The evening was rounded off with a fast paced swing dance with an old French man leaving me completely dizzy and slightly nauseous and crepes. This city could actually grow on me.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Garbage Collection
I am currently terrified to throw away my garbage. I know, this sounds incredibly odd, but let me describe to you the trash collection process here and you might understand why. Trash must be deposited into a specified $2 garbage bag that is called a Zuri Sack. Anything not put inside a city marked bag will not be collected. Cardboard must be cut up into squares, bundled with twine and put out on a specified day. Newspaper and magazines are also to be bundled separately. I am still not sure what to do with normal paper. Bottles are recycled however I am still not sure if plastic is. In case you do any of the above incorrectly, don’t worry, the trash police (yes, they have an arm of law solely dedicated to the appropriate treatment of garbage) will sort through the garbage to identify who it belongs to and will fine them. Therefore, never throw away anything with your name on it, even if it is in the appropriate bag or you will get fined.
This may sound like an exaggeration, or “Ange” story, but to confirm my fears, two co-workers have already been confronted by the garbage police, one was actually taken down to the station and my apartment owner (who is Swiss) has personally warned me about the strict garbage rules and the governing garbage police
This may sound like an exaggeration, or “Ange” story, but to confirm my fears, two co-workers have already been confronted by the garbage police, one was actually taken down to the station and my apartment owner (who is Swiss) has personally warned me about the strict garbage rules and the governing garbage police
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Naked Ladies
It was recently pointed out to me that every park in Zurich, and quite possibly all of Switzerland, has a statue of a naked lady. Every since, I have noticed that this statement holds true. I have seen statutes of naked women standing, sitting, laying down, running and sunbathing. I find it odd that in a city so reserved and conservation, every park (which happens to be every three blocks) has a pair of ta-tas for all to see.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Orange Cinema
Sunday Night I had the opportunity to go to Orange Cinema to see the Swiss Premiere of Death Proof, the new Tarentino movie. The movie was great and I would definitely recommend it to everyone, but the movie itself did not prompt a blog entry, the experience of Orange Cinema did.
Orange Cinema is the name of an outdoor theater that Zurich sets up on the lake every summer for about four weeks. The screen is raised over the lake and seats are seat up bleacher style on the beach. Tickets, unlike most theaters in Zuirch, were open seating (no reservations). So, in order to get a good seat, you have to get there early. I went with a group of friends, three of whom went early to save spots. Once the seats were taken care of there were three different booths to buy dinner at and two different bars for drinks. We enjoyed our dinner over looking the lake, drank a few cold beers and then sat back to watch the movie. The view was not only amazing, but the clean air was as refreshing as the cold beers, ice cream and sodas we were able to enjoy throughout the movie.
I am going back next week to see Little Miss Sunshine and can’t wait!
Orange Cinema is the name of an outdoor theater that Zurich sets up on the lake every summer for about four weeks. The screen is raised over the lake and seats are seat up bleacher style on the beach. Tickets, unlike most theaters in Zuirch, were open seating (no reservations). So, in order to get a good seat, you have to get there early. I went with a group of friends, three of whom went early to save spots. Once the seats were taken care of there were three different booths to buy dinner at and two different bars for drinks. We enjoyed our dinner over looking the lake, drank a few cold beers and then sat back to watch the movie. The view was not only amazing, but the clean air was as refreshing as the cold beers, ice cream and sodas we were able to enjoy throughout the movie.
I am going back next week to see Little Miss Sunshine and can’t wait!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Montreaux Jazz Festival
This weekend I headed down to Lake Geneva for the Montreaux Jazz Festival. Montreaux is this small town on the edge of Lake Geneva which throws a huge Jazz Festival every year, so big that Prince actually played this year (but not the weekend I was there). A little fun fact about Montreaux: the song “Smoke on the Water” (with the most famous guitar rif) was actually written in Montreaux after the band saw the club they were suppose to play at catch on fire and blow smoke over the water. Not sure how true that is, and I am too lazy to look it up, so take it for what it is worth.
Anyways, I went down with a group of 7 co-workers and friends for a boat cruise/concert. The plan was to head down early Saturday morning by train, explore the festival a little bit and then get on the boat for the afternoon concert. This weekend was the last weekend of the concert so it wasn’t that crowded, plus there were some mean looking rain clouds ready to come in over town. We hopped on the boat, grabbed a few drinks and got in good position to hang out, watch the bands and check out the scenery. The first band was amazing, with a more creole/blues sound to them. Unfortunately, the second group was more jazz and apparently I DON’T LIKE JAZZ. The good news is that I DO like Heineken and there was plenty to go around, the day wasn’t ruined.
After the boat we were hoping to walk around some more, grab some food and hang out til the bars got good. Unfortunately for us, the weather had other plans. It started raining, and not just a sprinkle, but a torrential, horrible, downpour. With no place to go we did what we could and went to a bar. Sounds great, especially for me…but NO… they were playing Jazz So not only was I wet, hungry, starting to get sober but stuck inside listening to more jazz. Good thing I had good company.
Kidding aside the weekend was great. It was my first excursion out of Zurich, and I got to see the French part of Switzerland. Not sure if I will go back again next year, but it is worth checking out, assuming you like Jazz.
Side note: As I was in the French part of Switzerland, the language spoken was Swiss French, not Swiss German, the language I have been trying to learn (and by learn I mean I know how to say hello, thank you, please, beer and sausage). So the entire weekend, I was speaking a cross between English, Swiss German, attempting French while throwing in some Spanish to boot. Apparently my mind assumes that if I am not speaking Enlgish, it must be Spanish. Hopefully I will get it before I leave
Me and the girls on the boat cruise (Kim, Nancy, me and Shannon)
Anyways, I went down with a group of 7 co-workers and friends for a boat cruise/concert. The plan was to head down early Saturday morning by train, explore the festival a little bit and then get on the boat for the afternoon concert. This weekend was the last weekend of the concert so it wasn’t that crowded, plus there were some mean looking rain clouds ready to come in over town. We hopped on the boat, grabbed a few drinks and got in good position to hang out, watch the bands and check out the scenery. The first band was amazing, with a more creole/blues sound to them. Unfortunately, the second group was more jazz and apparently I DON’T LIKE JAZZ. The good news is that I DO like Heineken and there was plenty to go around, the day wasn’t ruined.
After the boat we were hoping to walk around some more, grab some food and hang out til the bars got good. Unfortunately for us, the weather had other plans. It started raining, and not just a sprinkle, but a torrential, horrible, downpour. With no place to go we did what we could and went to a bar. Sounds great, especially for me…but NO… they were playing Jazz So not only was I wet, hungry, starting to get sober but stuck inside listening to more jazz. Good thing I had good company.
Kidding aside the weekend was great. It was my first excursion out of Zurich, and I got to see the French part of Switzerland. Not sure if I will go back again next year, but it is worth checking out, assuming you like Jazz.
Side note: As I was in the French part of Switzerland, the language spoken was Swiss French, not Swiss German, the language I have been trying to learn (and by learn I mean I know how to say hello, thank you, please, beer and sausage). So the entire weekend, I was speaking a cross between English, Swiss German, attempting French while throwing in some Spanish to boot. Apparently my mind assumes that if I am not speaking Enlgish, it must be Spanish. Hopefully I will get it before I leave
Me and the girls on the boat cruise (Kim, Nancy, me and Shannon)
Sunday, July 8, 2007
What an amazing first week!!! Here are some of the things I was busy doing this week:
- Went house hunting on Tuesday with a relocation agent and looked at a whole bunch of apartments none of which were in the neighborhood I wanted or in my price range. A bit frustrating
- Tuesday night I meet up with two co-workers for happy hour at the Carlton Bar. Beers are only $5 until 7pm and then the prices get hiked up to $8. No appetizers, but there was a sausage buffet (yes girls, they eat a lot of sausage here). The seen was definitely more Bluelight than City Tavern, but I can’t be too picky considering it is my first week
- I also set up my official Swiss Bank Account on Tuesday!
- Wednesday I had my first “full day” of work. Everyone on the team is so nice and welcoming and helpful. They are all ex-pats from either the US or Australia and so they have all been through the relocation stress
- Wednesday night I found my new apartment!! This might not seem like a big deal, but to put things in perspective, it took three of my co-workers over two months to find housing. I found my place within five days. A co-worker sent me an email listing from an ex-pats website for an apartment in the neighborhood I wanted, in my price range. I called the people, went over that night, had a glass of wine and fell in love with the place. A cute one bedroom, one block away from the “Fillmore street” of Zurich with a private front garden, dishwasher and washing machine. The couple was moving out and heading to San Francisco! We got to talking, I was introduced to the land lady, a great woman from South Africa who said the place was mine and I could move in August 1. I just got the contract and will be signing it Monday. There is plenty of room for everyone to come visit at once!!!
- The only downside about the apartment is apparently the last three tenants (all women) have gotten pregnant while living at the apartment…YIKES!! No boys for me!! Feel free to place over/unders on that one!
- This weekend was ridiculous with Zurifhast! I don’t know how to describe Zurifhast other than imagine, Bay to Breakers, Union Street Fair and the Mid-State fair all happening in the same city the same weekend. Pure Mayhem. There were bands and stages every two blocks, huge rides including two ferris wheels, beer stands every and so many places to buy sausage it was overwhelming.
- Aussie Greg came up to visit from Italy and we had numerous parties to attend (all thrown by co-workers). One week here and I already have a semi-social life.
- And the best part so far...apparently you can drink on the streets al the time (not just for Zurifhast) so in theory, I could pop open a cold beer after a hard day at work and relax on the train ride home…man I love this city!
On a more serious note I have some bad news. I have a feeling these next two years are going to qualify me for "least improved" friend. My hair staightener doesn’t work here, pedicures are $75, there is very little sun to get tan, and after a diet of sausage and full calorie beer my appearance (it appears) is about to take a nose-dive. Good thing I am not interested in men right now!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Today, I officially landed in my new “home” for the next two years. It was a long journey, but one well worth it. My family (dad, mom, sister, minus brother, self, five pieces of luggage and two carry-ons) all headed to the airport early Thursday morning to send me off. The world was working with me because there was absolutely no traffic or problems getting to the airport. Plus I was especially calm about everything. I am normally pretty uptight at the airport and typically don’t have the patience to deal with inexperienced flyers. But this trip was somehow different, like I was completely at peace with this move already taking on the European lifestyle.
To add to the experience, I was upgraded to Business Class for the international portion of the flight. Yes, I flew from SF, to Chicago to Munich and finally to Zurich, all so I could earn more points with United. The flight began with a glass of champagne, filet mignon for dinner, a fully reclining seat for a good night’s sleep. Once in Zurich I was lucky enough to have all 5 pieces of checked luggage make the journey with me. And to top things off I had a BMW town car waiting for me upon arrival.
My temporary apartment is located on Sihlfeld Strasse and is pretty large for my standards. Although anything with more than 4 walls is my idea of large. I am not sure about the neighborhood (think lower nob hill) but it will definitely work for the next month. I meet with my relocation agent next week to look at apartments so hopefully I will be able to find something. I am told though that the housing market is incredibly tight and not to expect too much.
Anyways, unfortunately not much to report on since I just got here. I am currently waiting on the repair guy to get here, since it appears my phone isn’t working. Tomorrow I plan on taking a walk through the city and then am meeting up with some co-workers for drinks.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Lisapalooza
One of the hardest parts of leaving the San Francisco for Zurich will be leaving behind all of my friends and family. I still think I am completely crazy leaving this all behind because not too many people have so many special and close friends all within the city’s limits. And for that I am truly blessed. So in order to celebrate those friendships (and to get enough blackmail to make the friends come visit), the ultimate party was thrown…Lisapolooza.
What can one say about Lisapoloooza? Lisapolooza, to summarize, was my week long going away party which in fact ran a little longer than a week, but who is really counting. Activities included a traditional Swiss dinner with the old roomies, two Tuesday Night Happy Hours at City Tavern, Girl’s Night In, Tainted Love, fancy dinners, favorite restaurants, large bar tabs, even larger hang overs and the best friends a girl could ask for. There is no way I could possibly capture all of the fun memories I have from that week, nor will I even try as it could take weeks to document it all.
What can one say about Lisapoloooza? Lisapolooza, to summarize, was my week long going away party which in fact ran a little longer than a week, but who is really counting. Activities included a traditional Swiss dinner with the old roomies, two Tuesday Night Happy Hours at City Tavern, Girl’s Night In, Tainted Love, fancy dinners, favorite restaurants, large bar tabs, even larger hang overs and the best friends a girl could ask for. There is no way I could possibly capture all of the fun memories I have from that week, nor will I even try as it could take weeks to document it all.
Here though are a few of my favorite moments:
- All of my groups of friends joining up for the festivities. I mean how often can a girl get old college roommates, college friends, old SF roommates, kickball friends, co-workers, and new friends met along the way to all meet up at one bar on a week night?
- Pre-Party for Tainted Love at Nova’s house
- Watching my favorite cover band Tainted Love
- Joanna and Jeni* getting into the fight of the year with some claustrophobic chic instigated by Nova. (Jo those bruises still haunt me) and of course the follow up 50 emails the following day describing the event
- Brunch with the girls and the mayor at Balboa Café (well, almost, he was only one table away)
A HUGE thank you to everyone who came out to wish me well, or just ensure that I was in fact leaving.
Some of the photos from the week of activities (unfortunately I only included those where I didn't look too hammered, which eliminated over half of the selection).
Friday, June 1, 2007
The Decision to Move
During another hellish busy season and finding my self in a serious rut, I decided I needed to change something in my life, but through February I didn’t know what that “something” was. I considered different options and even toyed with the idea of quitting. One specific Wednesday in February I had an unusually difficult day resulting in the need to take drastic measures. Thankfully I didn’t have to look too hard to make a change. Two days later, I was asked to meet one of the partners with my firm.
For those who know me and about my Thursday night activities will realize that this simple request wasn’t taken as a good thing at first. I immediately assumed the worst and my mind started racing: oh shit, this is it, I am finally going to get busted for my late night activities, I probably still reek of alcohol. I am screwed.
To my relief the news was all positive. The Credit Suisse team in Zurich was looking for someone in my position, with my experience and the partner thought I would be a good fit. Was I interested? Given the two year commitment, I said I needed to think about it, preferably with a clear head. It didn’t take long for me to decide. I had made up my mind later that night, I was moving to Switzerland. Done
Granted I had to go through two months of interviews with various partners and managers, go through the idea of leaving my friends and family behind, leaving the only home I really know, learn a new language, a new client and new culture, but I got the job and stuck with my decision.
And this blog and new chapter of my life started.
For those who know me and about my Thursday night activities will realize that this simple request wasn’t taken as a good thing at first. I immediately assumed the worst and my mind started racing: oh shit, this is it, I am finally going to get busted for my late night activities, I probably still reek of alcohol. I am screwed.
To my relief the news was all positive. The Credit Suisse team in Zurich was looking for someone in my position, with my experience and the partner thought I would be a good fit. Was I interested? Given the two year commitment, I said I needed to think about it, preferably with a clear head. It didn’t take long for me to decide. I had made up my mind later that night, I was moving to Switzerland. Done
Granted I had to go through two months of interviews with various partners and managers, go through the idea of leaving my friends and family behind, leaving the only home I really know, learn a new language, a new client and new culture, but I got the job and stuck with my decision.
And this blog and new chapter of my life started.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)