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.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
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
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