Morocco

In sharp contrast to the drinking and eating binge of Euro Trip 2008, my trip to Morocco was anything but; the food was surprisingly not my favorite and not a drop of alcohol was consumed in the 6 days. In addition, there is nothing more opposite from the western cities visited in Italy, France, etc than the liveliness and chaos of Marrakech, Morocco. The change was welcomed.

Marrakech can only be described as an attack on the senses - a blur of moving people, stalls selling everything from food and fresh squeezed orange juice to toiletries and souvenirs, intoxicating smells of spices, leather and livestock and the noise of the main square in the old town - a combination of snake charmers, monkey handlers, story tellers, musicians and the town trying to sell you something. And while all of your senses are fully overwhelmed, there are plenty of locals eager to get you into their shops, their brother's restaurants and cousin's hotels.

Initially I was taken back by the forwardness of the locals and their constant calls and whistles to get your attention. On the first day we innocently followed a local to what he said was a reasonably priced non-touristy restaurant just off the main square. Upon walking onto the terrace, we noticed and later recognized the look of warning from the various other patrons, trying to save us from an overpriced menu before it was too late (we in fact gave the same look to the next couple who walked in bleary eyed, following yet another "helpful" local). However by the end of the trip, I was fully in support of the forwardness! I embraced the art of bargaining (and prided myself on getting great deals, with a slight pang of guilty conscience for getting such good discounts) and we intentionally walked the through the middle of the stalls the last night when deciding where to eat to see what type of offers, compliments and lines we would receive in attempt to gain our business.

And although I learned to embrace the chaos of the city, a large part of Marrakech, however, was defined by the quietness just inside each building’s walls. Within each Riad (Hotel) was oasis of calm, without the sounds of the city around me. Both of our Riads in Marrakech had beautiful open terraces and sitting areas to relax while enjoying the local mint tea. I would spend an entire afternoon on these terraces, reading a book and resting from shopping. And if that wasn’t enough, Morocco offered, and we accepted, the ultimate spa experience, the Hammam, which consisted of a sauna, body scrub, more sauna, mint tea, massage and lounging..

As a side note, the group took a two day side trip to Essouira, a small beach town about 3 hours outside of Marrakech. The town itself is small fishing village with great fish market where you can pick your fish and have it cooked up right in front of you.

Blogger's Note

Below are the various blogs from my recent 2 week holiday with two of my best friends from college. I had been looking forward to this trip for months and had referred to it with my friends in the planning phases as “Euro Trip 2008”. And as promised, it lived up to its expectations as an eating and drinking binge through various European countries. I have posted the blogs based on the actual dates of occurrence. As such I would recommend reading them from the first post “Euro Trip 2008 - Zurich” and scrolling up.

Enjoy!

Krakow

After our one night in Warsaw we packed our bags one last time and headed to Krakow, for our last stop on Euro Trip 2008.

As a pre-note, after all of my travels and places visited, not just on this trip, but in my life, I have come to realize that my appreciation of a city is based on the following: the culture and people, food, the time it takes to get oriented, bars per capita, and shopping (not necessarily in that order). So when we showed up in Krakow, the city immediately shot to the top of my list of favorite places, alongside Istanbul, Amsterdam and Budapest.

Krakow’s old town and city center were a quick 10 minute walk from the train station and, after checking into our hotel, we followed a walking beer stein like the children of Pied Piper from our hotel to the main square, a block away. Once in the main square we were hit by the attractiveness of the town, cleanliness of the streets and number of bars in sight (one on every corner, as noted by our waiter in the first bar we found). It was also explained that Krakow is famous for its flowers, which apparently bloom throughout the city and make it that much more beautiful. Without the flowers, I was still in love.

Despite the amount of bars available (most which we visited during our two night stay), the initial draw for me to the city was the chance to visit Auschwitz, the largest of the WWII concentration camps, which has subsequently been turned into a museum, memorial and world heritage site. We visited this historic site on Tuesday and were blown away by the size and impact of it all, including the personal stories told by our tour guide of her family (both town residents and prisoners of the camp), the magnitude of the destruction as evidenced by the suitcases, shoes (40,000 pairs) and pots “left behind” by those prisoners and, more importantly, the element of humanity still maintained by the prisoners during the war (as told through the story of Maxamillion, a priest who gave up his life to save a fellow prisoner with a family). The tour walked us through the various barracks, over the infamous train tracks and into the first and only remaining crematorium.

Feeling heavy from the visit to Auschwitz, we managed to pull ourselves together for a final traditional Polish dinner, wine, shots of vodka, stories from the past two weeks and the only thing that helps when things are really down, karaoke. Seriously, there is nothing like Karaoke, especially in a foreign country, to put a smile back on your face.

Euro Trip 2008 came to a close the following day, with the departure of Neff to Prague and Joanna back to the US. And I, well I have determined that a pasta/wine diet does not work, nor does a meat/potato/vodka diet, and so detox it is for me.

Warsaw

One question, who in their right mind, goes to Poland in winter for a holiday? The answer, apparently, is three girls from California, who have no concept of the meaning of bone-chilling cold. In our defense, Joanna is Polish, she wanted to check out Poland while she was in Europe, and I figured it would be more fun to see the country with a “relative local” (a native born who speaks the language and still has family in Poland…no we did not meet them).

We landed in snow-covered Warsaw on Sunday and immediately realized the flaw in our thinking; it was instantly winter. Things started to look up once we got to our four-star hotel (booked at an extremely low rate either due to low prices in general, or due to the fact that November is surprisingly not peak travel time). From our hotel, we took a brisk walk through the city center up into old town, for a late lunch of traditional polish food (pierogi, barsch, and nalesniki). Lunch, surprisingly, happened to be incredible, and might have been my favorite meal of the entire trip. Despite being warmed by the food, it took a cab ride back to the hotel with the heat on full and a 2 minute sauna fully clothed (jacket, scarf, gloves, hat, everything) to get back to a normal body temperature.

After defrosting, we bundled back up again (this time layering on every piece of clothing I owned) and headed to dinner just down the street. Dinner, again, increased my appreciation of Polish food, and might have started an unhealthy addiction to beef tartar. Full from dinner, and flushed from the wine and plum liquor (which tasted more like Robutussin than anything) the walk back to the hotel was quick, but not painful.

Although we did not see much of Warsaw, (I still couldn’t name a single local site), I was already in love with the country. Despite the cold, how can you go wrong with a country that requires at least a few shots of high-end vodka before calling it a night!

Paris in 23 Hours

My friends had little expectations when they first arrived in Europe, however, at the top of their list was to see the Eifel Tower. So we went against all judgment and traveling common sense and booked a flight from Rome to Paris for one night of sites and French food. With a severe language barrier, a slight hang over from the night before (and possibly the entire week in Italy) and overall distrust of our taxi driver, it took some time finding our way to the hotel. Once settled, we were off again for a quick tour of Paris, a view of the Eifel tower, and a search for escargot and moules frites.

Similar to Rome, I had been to Paris before, and was therefore able to provide a walking tour of the city, with all of the highlights (Eifel Tower, Louvre – just the outside*, Notre Dame, wine bars, etc). *Note: this was my second trip to Paris and I have still managed to not see the inside of a single museum (unless the food court of the Louvre counts) nor buy a single piece of designer clothing and/or shoes. I am not sure if that is something to be ashamed of, or something to brag about.

Exhausted from all of the traveling (3 countries in less than a week), we had a relaxing dinner in the Latin Quarter and somehow pulled ourselves together for a few drinks down the street, followed by a late night crepe.

Having seen all we came to see, we took the early train back to Zurich for a night off in order to prepare for our flight to Poland on Sunday morning.

Rome – Back Again

Exactly one year and one month ago, I threw my last EUR 10 cent over my shoulder into the Fountain of Trevi, with the wish to return again some day. And while there are plenty of other wished I had hoped would come true first (early retirement, true love, world peace), I am glad that I had the chance to see Rome again (and this time with full funds available).

We arrived in Rome in time for dinner at Trattoria el Pallora, a great Italian restaurant near Campo di Fiori, and our hotel, where menus were not required. The four course meal was determined by what the owner/chef (a cute old Italian woman) decided to cook that day.

The following day was spent seeing all of the sites (and included actually entering some of the historic museums)! We began with the Vatican City in the morning, enjoying the Sistine Chapel, but finding St. Peter’s Basillica to be more astounding. We entered the historic Coliseum and witnessed ferocious beasts (as known as alley cats) in the labyrinth below the main floor. And we wrapped up the tour with yet another wish and a Euro tossed into the Fountain of Trevi. It was fun to back in the city and be able to navigate my way around without the use of a map, but with the knowledge of someone who had been there before. I felt like a relative local (relative, since I clearly wasn’t, but I was able to show my friends around and take them to all of the fun places I had discovered on my last trip in town).

With an early flight to Paris in the morning, we savored our last Italian dinner and enjoyed a few after dinner drinks at Abbey Tavern before heading to bed.

Montalcino

No eating and drinking tour of Italy is complete without a stop in the famed Tuscany Region. We decided on Montalcino, a quiet hill top village in Tuscany, Italy. According to Rick Steves (our travel companion and sole source for information) Montalcino is known, above all for its exquisite wine, Brunello, and a great place to experience Tuscany and the local wines. To get there, we had to take the train from Florence to Siena, and then a bus to Montalcino. Unfortunately, due to a bad connection, we had a two hour wait in Siena before our bus departed. Being resourceful and yet also lazy, Jo and I settled on buying a bottle of wine and crackers, and sat down on the curb in front of the bus to wait it out, while Neff went off exploring the town. Neff’s adventure lasted ten minutes before she came back to join us. And shortly thereafter, we were joined by an Aussie traveller, Callum, who was heading back to Florence, but had missed his train.

The bottle of wine quickly turned into 3, and the group to Montalcino had expanded to 4 (apparently the offer was too good to resist for Callum). The bus ride was quick and entertaining, thanks to the third bottle of wine, and before we knew it, we were told by a passenger (and confirmed by the driver) that we were at our stop. Without a hesitation, we grabbed our bags from under the bus and waved the bus good-bye. Apparently the bus driver was not as nice as we had thought, we had been dropped off in front of a power plant, in the middle of no where and 9km away from Montalcino.

Realizing the next bus was an hour wait, and after confirmation that there were no hotels or taxis nearby, we started hitchhiking…(sorry mom and dad, it was desperate. Desperate enough to break into our “in case of emergency” bottle of prosecco we had packed from Zurich). Thankfully we did not have to wait long before Jo flagged us down a ride, we piled into the car (with luggage on our laps since there was no space in the trunk) and we were back on track to Montalcino with help from our new friend Andrea.

After arriving in Montalcino and thinking the worst was over, we started walking towards our hotel (recommended by both Rick and a local, but for which we had not made reservations at). And again, we hit a snag, as the hotel, and all other hotels in town, appeared closed for the night, and possibly the season. Yet we were again saved by the owner of the local market/butcher, who did not speak English, but DID know someone who had space at their bed and breakfast. I swear the people in that region (excluding the bus driver of course) were some of the nicest people.

Surprisingly our emotions were still positive when we walked into the quaint bed and breakfast, and the attitudes remained high through dinner at the local restaurant (for which the B&B owner gave us a ride to and where we enjoyed a local cooked meal of polenta, wild boar and more wine.)

Despite all of the hiccups and opportunities to make the adventure a nightmare, I found myself completely in love with the town, region and wine. (It did help that the following day was absolutely beautiful and included breakfast purchased by Callum). Unfortunately, after less than 24 hours, we were back in Siena waiting for the train to Rome.

This region, and especially the wine, deserved at least another 2 days of our time, but I guess that is how things go when you travel.

Pisa and Florence

We left Cinque Terre, with fond memories, but the desire for a bigger city: Florence. Before we rolled into the city known as Firenze (a small fact we learned after we couldn’t find Florence on the train schedule) we made a quick stop in Pisa for pizza and the token photo in front of the leaning tower. Come to find out, while the building is lovely, it is really nothing more than the glorification of just bad architecture. I mean, no where else would people travel in order to see a building falling over…I can see that for free in San Francisco.

2 hours later, we were back on our way to Florence, with no expectations or plans other than to see Michaelangeo’s David. The thing about expectations though, is if you set them low enough, you will always be pleasantly surprised. We took a walk around the city after dinner that night and met a few local gentlemen (Mimmi, the lawyer, Glady, the scooter-rider and Flobi, the economist), willing to show us around.

First stop of was Friends Bar along the Arno River, followed by a view of the city from Piazzale Michelangelo, the site of David 2.0 (an outdoor replica of the original David). Afraid we weren’t going to be able to see the real David the following morning, we climbed the 190 stairs (did I mention that Neff likes to count stairs?) for the view and photos in front of the replica. We were in fact able to see the original the following day (again it helps to travel in November) however the replica was just as amazing, plus we were able to take photos with David 2.0.

Other highlights of Florence included: gelato at the locals favorite spot (over 40 flavors), a great vintage shop near our hotel, the various street vendors, and the impossible to navigate winding streets (we managed to get lost on our way to the hotel, to dinner, and back to the hotel after drinks and the tour of the city).

Cinque Terre - Dieci Bottiglie

Translated as Five Land- Ten Bottles

After the big night out in Zurich, and only 3 hours of sleep, we were somehow able to pull ourselves out of bed, get our life together, and make the 7 am train. Unfortunately for us, the train made it approximately 20 minutes out of Zurich before breaking down in a tunnel. More unfortunate, however, was our seat mate who had to enjoy our stench of stale cigarettes, fondue cheese, alcohol and dancing sweat (like the classy ladies we were, we forgo showers that morning in order to make the train). After an hour and a half, waiting for another train, we were back on the rail to Italy. (Did I mention that there was a 9am train we could have taken instead?)

We finally arrived in Vernazza, Italy, the fourth town in Cinque Terre (five small cities along the coast of Italy) in time for dinner. Even in the dark, we noticed and felt the charm of the small fishing village. We ate dinner at Giannis, the restaurant of the hotel we were staying, which rooms boasted ocean views (absolutely stunning) and warned of “some” stairs (130 steps to be exact). Over dinner we polished off the first of many bottles of wine.

We awoke the next morning to a sunny day and everything we had hoped for: a quaint fishing village with rustic charm and few tourists…although it did help that it was November. After a quick American breakfast at the Blue Marlin, we headed south to Riomaggiore to begin the hike through the five villages. And although we only did 2 of the four sections (1 section was closed and we were too hungry to complete the last), we were still able to see all five towns, with a quick glass of wine between towns Riomaggiore and Manarola, gelato in Vernazza (the most hard earned and enjoyed gelato of my life) and snacks and more wine at the end in Monterosso.

After our hike, we headed back to home to get ready for dinner. To none of our surprise, dinner was again fantastic with pesto and foccacia bread (the two local specialties) fried calamari, walnut raviolis and steak. But more important than the food (and dare I say wine), the conversations between the three of us made the meal memorable. I was having dinner with two of my best friends, in Italy, having the type of conversations that you can only have on holiday with good friends.

10 years of friendship, five towns, two nights and ten bottles of wine, we were off to a great start…next stop Pisa for lunch and Florence for dinner.

Euro Trip 2008 - Zurich

November 13th marked the beginning of Euro Trip 2008, with the arrival of my two girlfriends from college, Joanna (aka “Jo”) and Lisa (aka “Neff”). We had two weeks ahead of us, with only a general idea as to what we were going to do: Cinque Terre, Rome, Paris, and Poland, with a few nights in Zurich to start.

To overcome their jet lag, I took the girls directly to the Zurich Wine Boats, a two-week long event with 12 ferries harbored in the city port and wine tasting from over 200 wineries throughout Europe. The wine, followed by a final round of drinks at the Outback and a late night stop at McDonalds’s ensured them a full night’s sleep.

The following day was spent showing the girls around town, including the standard 3 hour tour of Zurich, bratwurst at Sternen Grill, Kebabs at Imbiss, and of course, fondue dinner. Now, I have always been told that the only way to eat fondue is with shots of Kirsch (a cherry liquor). However, given that I really don’t like kirsch, and the idea of mixing it with a block of cheese sounded even more disgusting then the actual amount of cheese consumed, I was hesitant (almost reluctant) to try. But somehow (maybe it was after the first round was bought by Anna who had dropped her bread in the fondue after saying each dropped piece of bread meant a round of shots) it seemed the appropriate time to give it a shot, literally. And after 5 pieces of bread were lost in the cheese, followed by 5 rounds of shots, I suddenly became a believer in the concept.

To prove the power of Kirsch, I normally have nothing in mind after a night of fondue but elastic-waist pants and my couch. However, that night we were able to go out dancing until 2am with more rounds of drinks and numerous song requests, all the while sweating out the smell of cheese and kirsch. In my eyes, Jo and Neff got the perfect “Swiss” experience.

Election Day

As far back as I can remember, I have always I wanted to be the first woman president of the United States. It was something I aspired to be, in hopes of making a difference in the world. But then college happened, and well, my political aspirations dried up quickly with two little words, political liability. To sum things up, I went to State school, which means my friends, unlike those bred in the Ivy league, those taught to keep secrets, would sing like a canary for a free six-pack of Coors Light. I am not perfect, there may or may not be some incriminating photos of me out there somewhere.

Despite my shattered dreams, and skepticism of politics in general, I got caught up in the emotions of being American and the glory that democracy permits…the Elections. With my absentee ballot submitted, I decided to host an Election Day get together, a chance for friends to get together, discuss politics and watch CNN, before any polls closed (with the time difference, the first polls did not close until 12am). When asked why I was having the party before the results were announced, I responded, the day before elections, everyone can celebrate, the day after, the likelihood would be that only about half of us would want to (yes, I am friends with Republicans, Democrats and Independents alike).

And like all good parties, I was excited! It was like being 6 years old on Christmas Eve…It had 2 years worth of anticipation, endless publicity and old men in suits not only asking me what I really wanted, but promising to deliver. But similar to Christmas, or anything with so many expectations and build up, the results were bound to disappoint. Not to say, that the outcome of the race was a let down, but rather, there were no fireworks, life changing moments, or epiphany. I got my new shiny toy on Christmas morning and like clock work, by Christmas dinner with the grandparents I had already grown tired of it.

So, while the rest of the world celebrates or mourns, I am looking forward to the next holiday and all that it promises.

My World Heritage Site

For as long back as I can remember, I have always known that I am a Grade-A European-Mutt. Meaning my heritage is a hodge-podge of almost every European nationality (except Italian, which, incidentally, is one of the cultures I relate to most, and which my dad thought he was growing up). Based on my mom’s genealogy research, there were a few stand-outs…I can guarantee that I have ancestors from Germany, Ireland, the Azores (the small island chain off of Portugal) and Alsace-Lorraine (the small wine region between Germany and France). Last weekend, I completed my world heritage tour, with a trip to the Alsace region. (I visited the Azores with the family in 2002, Ireland in 2004 and again in 2007, and of course, have frequented Germany on numerous occasions).

Known for its white wines (primarily Riesling or Gewürztraminer), gastronomy, cute towns and Christmas Markets, it seemed like a perfect weekend get away. Calling on my favorite partner in crime Erin, we met up Saturday morning in Colmar for a weekend of enjoying the local specialties: eating and drinking in the cute villages…it was still too early to enjoy the Christmas Markets.

Considering our luck with traveling, and all of the problems we typically encounter (missed flights, no guidebooks, etc) I considered the weekend a HUGE success. We were able to locate our hotel without an issue or map, we accidentally timed the bus to Riquewihr (a cute village with more wineries than tourists) perfectly with 10 minutes to spare, we remained composed and in control during wine tasting all day (although it was white wine, which is not our favorite), we managed to catch an unexpected bus back to Colmar in time for a mid-day nap and the day of eating and drinking was wrapped up with an amazing 3-hour dinner of local cuisines such as the bakeaoffa (as spelled on the menu), the Alsace version of a meat and potato pot pie.

We wrapped up the weekend of local indulgences with, surprise, a big brunch, more wine tasting in Colmar, followed by more wine and food at the train station. And if the weekend was not enough, the smell of dinner that was left on my sweater lingered until I got back to Zurich that evening.

Wednesday Night Jam Session

Just to clarify, I did NOT spend last Wednesday night at home making jam (sorry mom, I have yet to pick up that talent or desire). Quite the opposite actually, I spent last Wednesday night hanging out with a friend and his band.

Hi, my name is Lisa, and I want to become a groupie. And not for the normal reasons of getting great concert tickets and all-access passes (although those would be nice), but in order to have more nights like the one I just had.

One of my Swiss guy friend’s, Christoph, is in a band and the group had rented a music room to record their next CD. I use the term "music room" loosely, as it is far from the standard Junior High band room with out of date instruments, even more out of date posters, and unknown smells. This music room had high ceilings, a private bar, recording equipment and vintage velvet sofas, enough for 30 of your closest friends. Realizing that this place was special, Christoph invited his closest friends over for some drinks and to hang out Wednesday night.

I got there a little late (due to work) and walked into the movie Almost Famous. The small group of friends were hanging out with the band, drinking a few beers, enjoying the ambiance of the room (think dark and lush, with candles, the wood of instruments and an overall smoking haze). While I was the only non-Swiss there and the conversations would sometimes shift to Swiss German, I held out for what I knew would eventually happen: the late night jam session. And boy did it pay off. Not to discount the great people I met and fun conversations I had (which were, in themselves, memorable), but there is something so amazing about the ability to play an instrument, with other people, unrehearsed, and still sound beautiful.

It started with just a guitar and solo vocals. And then the bass played picked up the stand-up bass, and by the fourth or fifth song in, the drummer had grabbed his snare and started to mix into the sound. Pretty soon, everyone was singing and tapping feet all to the private acoustic concert. To make the moment even more surreal, I was hanging out with Swiss, in Switzerland, but the music they were playing was Country, as in Nashville. I don’t think I will be able to hear another Hank Williams song without thinking about my time in Zurich…

Europa Park

When my friend Erin from St. Louis said that for her birthday she wanted to go to Europa Park, Germany’s very own theme park, I set my expectations accordingly. Not to sound rude, but I come from CA, home of Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, among many other top quality theme parks. So with that said, I am not sure if it was the lowered expectations, the actual quality of the park or the mass quantity of sugar and beer consumed, but I found myself pleasantly surprised.

The park is themed around the various countries of Europe, offering local cuisine, appropriately themed rides and the traditional structures and decorations from each country. Countries ranged from Switzerland with a Bobsled ride, Greece with Poseidon’s Revenge (a water ride), Portugal with Pirates (I guess that sort of makes sense) and my favorite country of all, Chocoland, located between Russia and Holland.

While the rides were fun (although slight knock-offs from various other parks), the highlight of the day was “winning” my 6ft long green crocodile stuffed animal. Quotation marks are necessary as I technically did not “win” the toy playing the shooting game, even with numerous “free” attempts, but rather, the he was given to me by the very nice game supervisor.

We wrapped up the day at one of the many themed restaurants adjacent to the park recounting the day, all the fun we had, the number of stuffed animals won (10 in total) and of course, all of the food we ate. To summarize, my 7 friends and I enjoyed:

· 8 slices of pizza
· 3 sides of french fries
· 3 chocolate bananas
· 2 bags of popcorn
· 2 cotton candies
· 2 bags of toasted sweetened nuts
· 1 waffle with whipped cream and chocolate
· 1 bag of chocolate covered churros
· 1 bag of chocolate covered donuts
· And 1 lollipop

And that was all before dinner.

Four in Four

Those familiar with this blog might have noticed a lack of travel stories recently. Especially when considering we just wrapped up summer, the best time to travel. The reason for lack of travels in Europe was due to my excess travels to the US this summer. In the past four months, I have been to the US four times…once a month beginning in June. The various trips can be summarized as follows:

June: A trip home for my sister’s bachlorette party (13 women on one houseboat at Lake Shasta). The week was spent, preparing for the weekend (I planned the entire trip from Zurich and had some last minute details to finalize), enjoying the weekend, recovering from the weekend with the family at Lake Pilsbury and then shopping in SF.

July: My big sister gets married in Tahoe! The week was spent preparing for the weekend (maid of honor duties), enjoying the weekend (including rehearsal dinner, wedding reception and floating down the Truckee river), recovering from the weekend and shopping in SF.

August: Surprise trip to New York for work. The three days were spent shopping and enjoying the city with Erin (my friend and traveling buddy who lives in NY), dinner with Buckles (another friend in NY) and some work.

September: Buckles gets married in Sonoma! The six days were spent shopping in SF, the weekend wedding in Sonoma and recovering from the weekend with the family.

I am exhausted and am looking forward to a few 2-3 hours flights that still get me to a different country.

My Birthday!

A big thank you to everyone who sent their birthday wishes overseas! It was so great to hear from every one…

I am a firm believer that birthday celebrations should not be limited to just one day. There is just too much to do (and too much positive attention) for a mere 24 hours. I normally try to extend the party for a full week… this year I managed to make it last two!

My birthday fell on a Saturday this year, so I spent the day shopping with Shannon, checking out the cute boutiques and enjoying a long lunch at an outdoor café. That evening was spent BBQing at a friend’s house…I am not sure if it is my new found maturity, the rain, or the fact that 4 out of the 6 woman there were pregnant, but the night was more mellow than birthdays past (meaning no beer bongs, dancing on bars, or getting into fights with a bouncer).

The birthday celebrations continued through the week and wrapped up this past weekend with Daniel’s present to me, a weekend away to one of 10 vacations he had planned (all described in my “Birthday Wish Book”). Trying to be low-maintenance, I picked a closer destination (rather than Paris or Egypt), which, it turns, out was the one of the more expensive option (ah, a woman’s intuition).

On Saturday morning, we took the train to Arth-Goldnau and then hopped on a 100+ year-old steam train to take us to the top of Rigi (a mountain in between Lake Lucern and Lake Zug, which also happens to be the same mountain where I had dinner in the cave, the week prior). The train stopped halfway up the mountain to get water, and again just before the top for breakfast and Swiss coffee (apparently the Swiss drink more than I had expected. It was only 11am and the bottles of wine were already being poured).

From the top of Rigi you can see both lakes and over two-thirds of Switzerland. Or so I have been told, it was completely white from the clouds…we couldn’t see anything! Lacking the view, we started our 4 hour hike down to Weggis on Lake Lucern.

By the time we got to the bottom, after enjoying a snack in a mountain chalet, we were both exhausted. But being thoughtful and a planner, Daniel had booked a private cottage at the Wellness Center (“spa” for Americans) in the Park Hotel where we were staying that night.

We relaxed and restored our tired bodies in our private lounge, hot tub, and sauna, while drinking champagne and eating the snacks provided to us. (Unfortunately, I would have really enjoyed a cheeseburger after the long hike, but that really didn’t compliment the healthy environment.) If the three hour session was not enough, we each enjoyed an hour long massage the following day.

To wrap up the perfect weekend, we took the boat from Weggis to Lucern and enjoyed an IMAX film before heading back home. Even my stressful day at work on Monday could not undue the effects of the weekend, unfortunately, nothing could undue the stress in my muscles from the hike either.

Cave Dining

Being a CPA, I am required to attend various trainings to keep up to date with current issues, policies, etc. As such, I just attended the firm sponsored Audit Conference in Brunnen, Switzerland. While Brunnen is a cute Swiss town located on Lake Luzern, and the hotel we stayed at had lake front property, the actual conference was about as exciting as one might expect…180 auditors and accoutants discussing, what else, accounting, for two solid days…snore. I was painfully bored, and this is my job. The low point of the conference was when one of the presenters thought it would be more appropriate to present in German, rather than English. And did I mention his presentation was the first one of the day at 8:30, on Friday, after a night out.

The highlight of the conference was dinner the previous evening which happened to take place in a cave… in the side of a mountain…behind a waterfall. Yup, it was true life Disneyland. Who knew these places actually existed!? We took a cog-wheel train up the side of the mountain and then “hiked” about 10 minutes to a beautiful waterfall, behind which there was a large cave lit with white lights and candles. The food itself was traditional Swiss: raclette cheese and alpine macaroni, but the ambiance more than made up for the lack of decent desserts. The dinner concluded with Swiss Coffee; a combination of coffee and schnapps which has to be “clear enough” to see the date on a 5 franc coin when dropped in. If the date is undeterminable there is too much coffee in your “coffee”. I am not sure if it was the bad lighting or my bad eyesight, but by the time I could finally read the date, my drink was more schnapps with a coffee chaser than a coffee with schnapps.

Bad Weather and Eating Habits

I have been informed, on numerous occasions, that in Swiss tradition, if you don’t clear your plate of food, it will be bad weather the following day. This concept, while cute, doesn’t hold a lot of water for me, especially since I NEVER finish all of my food. But, like everything else, with enough repetition and coincidences, you start to question the validity of such superstitions.

For instance, apparently it normally doesn’t rain that much in Zurich, however for some reason, the past two summers have been abnormally wet. In addition, it appears that everywhere I go, it rains, and while I am away, it is beautiful weather. Let’s re-cap my vacations….Munich for Oktoberfest (rained on Friday), Italy in October (rained 3 days), Prague (yeah, it rained there too), Dublin Ireland (well, that’s a given), Istanbul, Greece, Amsterdam (yes, yes, yes), Paris last July (oui). It even rained during my lunch in Liechtenstein. This coincidence has gotten so bad that my Swiss co-workers have started asking about my vacation schedule before planning their holidays and weekends.

If you still aren’t convinced, consider this…since I have left, CA has entered into one of the worst draughts of the past 20 years.

So, apparently I either need to learn to clear my plate of food or travel to draught ridden countries to offer my services.

Beautiful Ascona

Last weekend, Daniel and I headed down to Ascona, a cute little town, located in the Italian part of Switzerland on Lake Maggiore, where the rich of Switzerland and Italy retreat for sun and relaxation. It is impossible to describe how beautiful the town is and how great the weekend was and still do it justice. So to avoid any pathetic attempt, and to rely on the “a picture is worth a thousand words” concept, below is a photo from our apartment we stayed in, which overlooks the main promenade of town, and hopefully shows how amazing the town and overall weekend was.

The weekend included drinks on the small island, located about 10 minutes away by boat, dinner in an outdoor garden in a great Italian restaurant (one Daniel has been going to since he was 4), wakeboarding on Sunday morning and a leisurely lunch on the promenade watching the locals and tourists enjoy the sunny weather. To complete the weekend, we enjoyed a beautiful drive home over the Gotthard pass with some of the most stunning views of Switzerland and the Alps

Street Parade 2008

This past weekend marked the two highlights of the summer. Zurich celebrated its annual Street Parade (the bastard, techno-loving, European step-brother of San Francisco’s Bay to Breakers) and I hosted the first annual Euro Trash Bash (as known as the Street Parade pre-party).

Yes, it was Euro to the extreme! The pre-party began at my place with a BBQ, bottomless drinks and the best, tackiest outfits Europe had to offer. Men were wearing man-pris, tight sleeveless tops, aviators, rocking jewelry and carrying man-purses. Women were decked out in leggings, tight brightly colored jeans, equally rocking plastic jewelry and revealing bra straps. It was truly a uniting effort with the Swiss, Americans, Kiwis, Aussies, Germans and Irish all coming together in beautiful array of color and tackiness.

Once the food was eaten and all the alcohol consumed, the pre-party, and all its glory, headed out to observe the 800,000+, even more outrageously dressed citizens of Switzerland dancing with the techno blasting “floats” (also known as flat-bed trucks with club quality sound systems and 40-50 dancers dressed in close to nothing). Having found a good truck, our group walked the parade route, following the truck and dancing in the streets. Yes, I danced to techno and actually enjoyed myself!

The techno and party continued from dusk, through the night and ended around 6am (or so I have been told). I found myself at home and in bed by 11pm with a cut toe (flip flops were a bad idea) wrapped in a piece of someone’s boxer shorts (it wouldn’t stop bleeding and it sounded like the best option at the time) and a massive bruise on my thigh (don’t even ask). Yes, the day was a complete success… I can’t wait for Euro Trash 2009!

Swiss Men and the Army

As I am off for the next 10 days to celebrate my sister’s marriage to a full blooded American Man (he may or not have voted for Bush), I thought I would pay tribute to those Swiss Men I have meet over the past year…I present to you, Swiss Men and the Army

"All able-bodied Swiss males aged between 19 and 31 must serve in the Swiss Army, and although entry to recruit school may be delayed due to senior secondary school, it is no longer possible to postpone it for university studies. About one third is excluded for various reasons…Famously, members of the armed forces keep their rifles and uniforms in their homes for immediate mobilisation, as well as 50 rounds of ammunition" (Wikipedia).

In my time here, I have had a chance to hang out with a few Swiss Men, all of whom have very different stories. Since being in the army and/or owning a gun in the US has completely different status, I wanted to share.

Swiss Man 1 (SM 1) – A true blooded Swiss, (including a house on Lake Zurich’s Gold Coast), SM 1 chose to serve his time in the Swiss Army as a paratrooper. After passing a three week course and subsequent test, SM 1 was admitted into the Swiss Paratrooper class, which began with 75 individuals and graduated a mere 7. As a result of this honor, he was given two parachutes (one army issued and one for competition), he is allowed access to private jump zones and travels to Arizona every year for training. His weapon of choice is a hand gun, which he keeps in his house.

Swiss Man 2 (SM 2) – Half Swiss and Half Brazilian SM 2, was still required to serve in the army. He found the time bearable, but definitely listed it as his least favorite job. That is of course, excluding the time he spent in Swiss Army prison. SM2 had a bad habit of leaving base at night to head into the city for the nightlife and dancing. Unfortunately, on one of these occasions he ended up staying out too late. However, that in itself, was not the reason why he was sent to "army prison". The night in question just happened to be the night before he was on duty for dawn patrol and he ended up sleeping through the time to wake up the entire camp. So as his punishment, he was sent to army prison where he was able to sleep in as late as he wanted. His weapon of choice is a machine gun.

Swiss Man 3 (SM 3) – Another full blooded Swiss, SM 3 chose the third option. He pleaded mental instability and was relived of his duties. His weapon of choice is pharmaceuticals.

Pounds vs Kilos

Math is not my strongest subject (yes, I am an accountant, but that is beside the point), so converting things, whether foreign currency, Celsius to Fahrenheit or kilos to pounds, I always have some difficulties. The problem is even more of an issue when I don’t know what system (empirical vs. metric) I am dealing with.

The other day, I was discussing metric vs. empirical system with some friends, mentioning that I am finally getting used to the metric system, but it is nice that the produce in grocery stores are in pounds. Note Confusion Point Number 1: For some reason, this entire time I have been in Europe, I have been automatically been converting things to pounds when buying produce. And when I say “converting”, I just thought the price listed for bananas was the price per pound, not kilo. I know, ridiculous. So when this tiny little bubble burst for me, I automatically did the conversion to kilos and concluded that produce was WAY more expensive than I had previously thought, and therefore Zurich was way more expensive. Yes, in my “conversion” I multiplied the price per kilo by 2.2 to get the price per pound.

But wait, “isn’t it the other way around you ask?”. Why yes, I finally came to the conclusion that my math was wrong and the price should be divided. However, this didn’t seem right either, because then Zurich produce is even LESS than I thought, which didn’t agree with anything else I had experienced. Note Confusion Point Number 2: I lost all trust in my ability to convert kilos to pounds and vice versa.

Jump forward one week where I had to make potato salad for a fourth of July BBQ. At this point, I have: no confidence in my converting skills, a 2.5 kilogram bag of potatoes and a recipe that calls for only 3 lbs. Being ever resourceful, I decide to use the bathroom scale. So I took the bag of potatoes into the bathroom and put it on the scale. Unfortunately the scale apparently doesn’t register anything that light, so I came up with another ingenious plan. I weighed myself without the bag of potatoes, then again with the bag and subtracted the two to get the total weight of the potatoes. Just pause and imagine this scene for a moment.

It turns out that 2.5kilos is approximately 6 lbs, if you are ever in a similar bind.

The Perfect Day…My Anniversary

June 29th marked my one year anniversary in Switzerland and the official mid-point of my secondment. And I could not have asked for a better day.

The day officially began at 12am dancing at one of the more popular clubs in Zurich, Mascot, with a few friends. The music was surprisingly good and we were having such a great time we stayed until the lights came on, getting home at sunrise and sleeping in until noon.

At 1pm, I headed down to Lake Zurich for an hour of wakeboarding with the local wakeboarding school. Upon arrival I told them I was there to go out in the boat, but which resulted in some confusion as to who I was and if I was actually boarding (apparently they don’t get many girl wakeboarders). After everything got sorted out I asked if I could wakeboard and wakesurf. Unfortunately, due to the time available I was only able to do one. However! One of the other guys in the shop overheard me asking about wakesurfing, apparently saw the look of disappointment on my face and told me he was going out with some friends and that I was more than welcome to join up after my session was over. Meet my new friend Daniel.

Wakeboarding wasn’t the greatest since the water was incredibly rough (it appears that 1 in 10 residents of Zurich owns a boat and they were all out enjoying the weather that day). But either way it was great to get in the water. With the session completed, we headed back to the docks where I called my new best friend Daniel, who quickly came back to get me in a different boat. And for the next 5 hours (yes 3pm to 8pm) I hung out with Daniel and 5 of his friends, wakesurfing and swimming. I had seriously died and gone to heaven. BUT to make things even better (yes, if that is even possible), during my session wakesurfing, I somehow managed to pull off a 360, a trick I have been trying to figure out for two summers. And apparently I looked good doing it to, since when I got back into the boat Daniel’s remark was ”if I could cook, he would marry me”

After wakeboarding, and with Eurocup finals starting at 8:45 that night, we all said goodbye and I ran home to get changed and head out to meet up with some friends. Unfortunately by the time I got home I was so tired and most places were too crowded that I ended up staying in and watching the game. And when I say “watching” I mean I passed out after 5 minutes…I was exhausted!

It was a perfect day!

Hungary, eh

The story I am about to tell began 2 years ago (well actually 5 with Americorp, but for the sake of the story, let’s call it 2) with my first trip to Szarvas, Hungary to build houses with Habitat for Humanity. The experience was amazing and memorable enough that when the team leader Dennis emailed the group saying he was going back again this June, I jumped on the opportunity to go. Due to my travel schedule and planned trip home for my sister’s bachlorette party, I was only able to help out on the last 3 days of the 8 day build. However, Dennis thankfully allowed me to join the group halfway through.

Coming in late in the game created a completely different experience…I was the new girl amongst a group of fast made friends and whose relationships with the families were already established. And did I mention that I was the only American amid a group of 16 Canadians, my favorite neighbors to the north. Oh, and the ages of the group were either 22 or 42 leaving me smack dab in the middle (as compared to being the youngest by far on the last build….this new dynamic caused me a temporary mid-life crisis as I tried to make friends with everyone with out appearing to be in denial of my actual age. The last thing I wanted was to think I was young and hip enough to hang out with the college age group after hours. This fact was jokingly pointed out to me as I managed to talk about not only my 401k but also my current addiction to WWII and history in general with one of the youngsters… yes apparently I am an old fart, not an old soul like I had previously thought). That aside, the group welcomed me wholeheartedly both those I knew from before, the new additions to the team and the local organizers Gaby and Levy who surprisingly remembered me

The build was great, I helped to dig trenches for the plumbing on a new house and worked with a team to make a concrete sidewalk (including shoveling, framing, pouring concrete and leveling the sidewalk) to finish up another. But the best part was being able to see the completed house I had helped out on two years prior. Outside of the build, I was able enjoy Szarvas and explore different parts of the town that I hadn’t seen on my last visit, including the local swimming hole where we went to cool off after the 41 degree Celsius weather.

We ended the build with traditional Hungarian dancing and heartfelt goodbyes from both Gaby and Levy. Levy, the site foreman, summed it up the best (whether intentional or not) he said “when you are at home in your own bed, I hope you feel this (the experience) in your muscle, your heart and remember how much you did.” I left on Thursday with bruises and cuts on my legs, blisters on my hands and a promise to both Gaby, Levy and Dennis that I would be back again.

The Bell Lady

Every morning at work, at approximately 9:30am, my enjoyment at work peaks with happiness and joy. For exactly at that time, the “Bell Lady” comes walking through our office, ringing her bell, signaling that she has arrived to provide us with wholesome and hearty treats. She is the office/adult version of the milk lady from elementary school. However, unlike the milk lady, the Bell Lady provides so much more. While the selection can vary depending on the day of the week and how fast or slow you can respond to her delightful ring, you are guaranteed at least a few croissants, butter pretzels, sandwiches, bread rolls, salads, and, of course, milk.

Yes, this one woman is the highlight of my day at work. So much so, that I consciously make it a point to be at work and available at 9:30…Big night out? Doesn’t matter, I will be there in time….Meeting between 9 ant 10? Don’t even think about it. On one occasion, after a significantly large night out, I still managed to pull myself out of bed and get to work in time, motivated only by the thought of breakfast from the Bell Lady.

She has become such a fixture in my life that I am at a complete loss when, on those rare occasions, she doesn’t show up. But more alarming than the reliance I have on a woman whose name I don’t even know is the fact that I have become more conditioned than Pavlo’s dogs…not only do I start getting hunger pains around 9:15, but every time I hear a bell (whether in the office or not) I immediately think of the Bell Lady and her delightful salami sandwiches with one slice of pickle, lettuce, tomatoes and mystery sauce.

Wakeboarding in Germany

This past Sunday, a Hungarian (Atilla), a Brit (Tim) and an American (me, of course) all set off for Germany for a day of wakeboarding. I was particularly excited since I had just recently been researching my wakeboarding options when I met Tim who said he and a friend were going.

After a quick 1.5 hour drive and a flash of the passports we were in Pfullendorf, Germany, where there is a cable system set up on a small lake. It, being my first time using a cable system, took me a few times (ok, maybe 7 or 8) to get the hang of the dock start. During which, the dock worker kept trying to give me pointers in German. But after the few bad starts, I was up and running…err…wakeboarding. Thankfully, among the pros doing railings, 360s and tricks I had never seen before, there were a few other novices that I could share my pain of learning with.

For those not familar with the concept, wakeboarding on the cable system is a completely different experience than behind the boat, which is what I am used to. There is no wake, no spray on the face, no “pick-up service” when you fall, no music, and you wear a wetsuit (although the wetsuit might have been more due to the cold weather than the cable system concept). The worst part is that if you fall along the course, you have to get out of the water and walk back around to the dock to start again. The best part is that the water stays great all day long and you can go continuously, until you get tired, that is. Afraid of falling and having to walk back around, I didn’t do anything too exciting (that, I am technically a huge wimp), but I still had a great time practicing my technique and just getting back in the water.

After our 2 hours were up, Atilla, Tim and I sat down lunch and then began the trek back home. But before saying goodbye, we made plans to go out again either back to Germany, down to the French region of Switzerland to another cable system, or out on Zurisee behind a boat.

Lisa – 0, Taxis – 3

It has been noted and documented that I have a running battle with taxi drivers which began in Barcelona (See Easter in Barcelona). The current score is Lisa – 0, Cab Drivers – 3

The trouble began in Barcelona and continued with a hostile cab driver in Athens, Greece. After taking a cab home one evening with 6 passengers, we thought we would try our luck again and hopefully fit 5 people in one cab that next day. We (Jason, Braden, Anna, Angela and myself) had the hotel call us a cab to take us to the city center to meet up with the rest of the group. Upon arrival, the cab driver promptly informed us the limit was 4 people. After serious negotiations (through a significant language barrier) it was decided that Jason and I would take the cab and Braden, Angela and Anna would catch another.

So off Jason and I went, taking the “scenic” drive along the coast, followed by a severe traffic jam on the outskirts of town. About 20 minutes into the ride we got a call from Braden saying they had just gotten to city center and were wondering where we were…we, were still 45 minutes away (how that math works out, I am still not sure). Sensing our frustration, the cab driver got frustrated (or nervous, I couldn’t tell) and he “suggested” that we get out and take the tram, an alleged 10 minute ride. After contemplating our options and making approximately 20m of progress in the traffic, Jason and I decided to take the tram. So, we paid the EUR20, got out of the cab in the middle of the road and hopped on the next tram to city center. 45 minutes later we reached our destination to find out the cab for the other crew was only EUR15 and it got them all the way. Ah, the price of traveling...

So, with two strikes against me, you would think I would learn my lesson with cab rides…Which I did, sort of. While in Budapest the other weekend, before even getting in the cab, I kindly asked the man how much he thought it might be to get back to the hotel. He quoted the trip at 4,500 HUF or 30CHF. To put this in perspective our 30 minute cab ride from the airport to the hotel was 4,500; from where we were, it was no more than a 15 minute drive.

Using my powers of reasoning, I thought this seemed high, so I suggested we take a different cab. Another cab arrived and I asked the same question, to which I got the response “I don’t know, I run the meter.” Not seeing another cab and feeling pretty comfortable around the city, we hopped in. A short 10 minutes and 6,000HUF (per the meter) later we reached the hotel. Feeling scammed, I still paid the fare, but promptly asked the hotel concierge the appropriate rate, which turns out to be 3,500HUF. I was, this time, duped by a fixed meter… man, I can’t win!

44 Hours in Amsterdam

44 hours in Amsterdam, just enough time to end a relationship, break a few laws, and ruin all presidential aspirations (unless of course, you don’t inhale). These were my first thoughts of Amsterdam, when Erin and I decided to meet up there for the weekend. In spite of that reputation, I enjoyed one of my most relaxing, quiet weekends since moving to Europe.

I spent a lovely afternoon on Friday, waiting for Erin to arrive, visiting the Van Gogh Museum, antique shopping and enjoying a traditional herring sandwich (which is definitely an acquired taste, that apparently Erin loves),. Friday evening was our “crazy” night out which began and ended with hordes of men attempting to strike up conversations with us through every method possible, including bad pick-up lines, free drinks and my favorite, the traditional tactic of stalking. One thing can be said about Amsterdam is that the people are definitely friendly. Being a girl’s weekend though, all attempts were courteously turned down. Erin and I could not be bothered with men, we were there to catch up…and that we did. Every topic was covered over the course of the weekend from jobs, families, friends, men, goals and aspirations, frustrations and of course, world peace.

Saturday we enjoyed the canals in every way possible including waking up in our rented apartment to the views of the canals from our windows, walking all over the city guided only by the canals, and taking the touristy canal cruise before dinner. But more importantly, it was a canal that ended our 30 minute search for the red light district…yes, we went, but during the day and only out of a sense of moral obligation. I mean, how could we go to Amsterdam and NOT see them.

The trip ended with dinner at allegedly the best Mexican restaurant in Europe, which turned into drinks at the best Mexican restaurant Europe and ended with us back at home by 12am. While the food might not have been the best and the margaritas not that strong, the Pacifico beer perfectly complimented the homemade guacamole resulting in mass amounts of consumption.

My search for Mexican food in Europe still continues, but in the meantime Amsterdam remains at the top of my list of places to return to. But next time I go, I will be renting a private canal boat so I can enjoy the canals from within.

Captains Log – Cyclades, Greece

I have been trying to figure out a way to summarize my 12 day vacation to Greece, 8 of which were spent sailing a chartered sailboat with my 8 closest friends. And my answer, nay conclusion, is that, in the words of the Swiss, “it’s just not possible”….so consider this the abridged version, cliff notes if you will, to an amazing vacation.

We had been preparing, planning, looking forward to this trip since February so I was a bit skeptical of the actual results (see the Blog on the Boogg). But to my relief and excitement, the trip far surpassed all expectations: Athens was nice, but slightly dirty. Santorini was beautiful but overcrowded and slightly overrated (although I did love Parissa beach, a small kitschy beach town on the south end of the island that we “discovered” after our second wrong turn to the Red Beach, which was, surprisingly, overrated). Mykonos is the standard party island where college students and gay men rein supreme. Syros proved, once again, that it is more fun to ride a four-wheeler to a store 30 meters away for beer than it is to walk. And most importantly, I LOVE sailing!

In my 8 days on the boat, I learned that I am definitely cut out for the sailor’s life style, both the sailing and social aspects. I found it to be the perfect combination of solitary independence with an amazing connection to the ocean, and the social environment on shore with all the other skippers and local restaurant and shop owners to keep you from going “Ahab”. And surprisingly I have the sea legs of that well-loved, yet slightly crazy captain, as confirmed by surviving not only a hangover and rough seas one day, but also 9 ft swells another day which prompted the skipper to put on a full dry suit and tie down the chairs in the galley prior to departure (thankfully we turned around after 20 minutes and spent an additional night on Kythnos.)

Yes, we were at sea, and I long to be a God at sea. I can now see the honest possibility of retiring on a sailboat, sailing around the world and eventually dropping anchor in the Caribbean (and if all goes well, become such a fixture that Lonely Planet will have to include me in their travel guides….ah dare to dream). Now I just need to learn how to sail, become independently wealthy, retire and/or marry someone incredibly wealthy who possibly knows how to sail. Consider the job position open…inquire within.

For the Love of Eggplant and Mussels

I have literally eaten my way through both Istanbul and Greece in the past month. The food was so amazing in both places I felt the need to specifically write about my new love affair with eggplants, mussels and feta cheese. My daily consumption of food will never be the same again.

The binge began in Istanbul…While walking through the Fish market in the Taksim area, Joe casually asked if I knew what mussels were and if I liked them. I was a bit taken back, since I thought everyone knew and liked mussels, but I answered his rhetorical question anyway. At that moment, we stopped in front of a random store front and ordered a plate of stuffed mussels. I took the first mussel, stuffed with spiced rice and onions and drizzled with lemon juice, and experienced the delightful contrast of salty seafood and sweetly spiced rice. The plate was finished in 2 minutes and I still dream about those mussels and ponder how soon I can make it back to enjoy them once again.

Those mussels, so incredibly delicious, were the first thing I ate in Istanbul and the bar of expectations was surpassed with every meal. For dinner we enjoyed an eggplant spread seasoned only with olive oil and garlic atop toasted pieces of bread that I could have eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We savored a spicy tomato spread mixed with feta cheese and an amazing dish of fava beans on Saturday evening and finally wrapped up the weekend with a traditional Turkish breakfast, of tomatoes, olives, cheeses, honey comb and countless tapanades.

I left Istanbul a few pounds heavier with an unhealthy addition to mussels and eggplant and cheese. Thankfully, I was heading to Greece in only three days. Once in Greece the binge continued and progressively got worse as my stomach stretched and I began sporting elastic waist pants. My first night in Santorini I decided to pit the Istanbul stuffed mussels against the Greek dish of Mussels Saganaki, a dish of baked mussels with feta cheese, roasted peppers and tomatoes. The two were equal competitors and the battle was declared a tie. Greek did win the battle however in the preparation of eggplant solely due to the variety it offered. In my 10 days in Greece I ate eggplant at least once a day, including roasted eggplants with grilled peppers and tomatoes, fried eggplants, eggplant salads, stewed eggplants with sweet onions, and the list goes on. All said and done through, my favorite dish of Greece was surprisingly not eggplant or mussel based, but was in fact the stuffed tomatoes with rice. Simply to die for.

Cody, forget the French food, learn to cook Turkish and Greek food!

East Meets West - Istanbul

I am not sure why, but I have always wanted to go to Istanbul. There is something about the city that has a huge draw for me. So when my friend Erin (my partner in crime from Paris) mentioned that she was interested in going, I jumped on the opportunity. To make the situation even better, we knew someone who lived in Istanbul who could show us around…well, sort of, I use the term “knew” loosely. My mom knew his mom through her walking group… so in Lafayette terms we were practically family.

Anyways, connections aside, the trip was absolutely amazing. Joe, my new friend, was a gracious host and tour guide to both Erin and me. Not only did he let us crash at his place in Taksim (the heart of the city), he showed us around to all of the historical sites, took us to the best restaurants and introduced us to some of his Turkish friends. We were able to get the best experience that most people visiting Istanbul would never have.

Now, Erin and I typically do not check out the “sites” when visiting a new city or country but prefer to experience the lifestyle by means of cafes and bars. We made an exception for Istanbul however due to the history and diverse culture of the city. We checked out the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofia, Cisterns, Spice Market, Grand Bazaar and my favorite, French Street, a cute street full of restaurants and shops, which is not in most tour books, but was shown to us by Joe. In addition, thanks to Joe, we had the opportunity to hang out in beautiful rug shop, surrounded by antique rugs, drinking Turkish coffee with one of his Turkish friends, who, in addition, showed us a private, cistern under the building.

Erin and I rewarded ourselves for being so historical and cultural with amazing Turkish food. On Saturday evening we had dinner at a traditional Turkish restaurant, where we were served endless tapas, perfectly complemented by a bottle of Raka (the Turkish alcohol similar to Ouzo) and live music. I could not imagine the evening getting any better. But just as I was expecting to wrap up and head to a bar, the Turkish people surprised me yet again….the restaurant turned into an Eastern version of Oktoberfest! Women and men were on their feet and chairs dancing and singing around the tables to the live traditional music, encouraging even Erin and I to participate. Unlike Oktoberfest however, everyone was happy and not completely blitzed. Apparently, alcohol is not required to dance on tables in Istanbul. Note: this theory was not only tested at dinner on Saturday night, but also at a dance club on Friday evening, where I have never seen so many happy and yet sober people dancing and singing. The theory was also confirmed by some of Joe’s friends.

Bottom line, I have never met a more friendly and happy culture in all of my travels. Tesekkurler, Joe! (pronounced Te che coo lar)

A Blog on the Boogg

When I first moved to Switzerland, I was informed of the traditional holiday of Sechseläuten, the Swiss version of Groundhog Day. As Groundhog Day is one of my favorite US holidays I was ecstatic and stoked to partake in the festivities. My excitement grew even more when I found out we got a half day to celebrate the occasion (I still believe we should receive a full day off to celebrate the appearance of Punxsutawney Phil) AND the occasion is marked by the explosion of a dynamite stuffed snowman (the Böögg).

For those not familiar with the holiday, the day is to celebrate the beginning of spring and the increase of the work day to 6 pm. It includes a parade of the guilds followed by the lighting of the Böögg, a snowman, filled with explosives, atop a 30 foot bonfire. Apparently, when the Swiss decide to do something, they definitely do it right, especially when it comes to dynamite. The time between the lighting of the bonfire and the explosion of the Böögg`s head is indicative of the coming summer.

Like I said, I was excited, since this holiday has the makings of greatness.

But, like all most things that I look forward to, the actual event was a bit of a let down. It rained…and not just a drizzle, it dumped hurricane style all day long. So much so that by the time the bonfire was lit, it was more of a smoke stack then a blaze of glory. Apparently the firemen had to spray the bonfire with kerosene after initial ignition. The fire eventually picked up and about 20 minutes into the event, with only a few minor explosions, the only thing that remained of the Böögg was a large piece of the neck hanging from the stake. Expecting a larger explosion, but not seeing anything left to burn, some of the crowd started to disperse. Finally after 26 minutes and 1 second, the head exploded, marking the beginning of another bad summer.

And I thought last summer’s weather was bad…

Dating in Switzerland

When I moved from San Francisco to Switzerland, I knew I would run into moments of culture shock and confusion about the daily life. I expected that brief moment of panic at the grocery store trying to figure out what was detergent and what was bleach, the deer in head lights look when asked a question in Swiss German and all other fun quirks that made me want to move abroad to begin with. What I didn’t realize was that the main point of confusion would be centered around the customs and rituals of dating (not only Swiss, but every other country represented in this small city of 375K). As if dating wasn’t hard enough in my own Country and own language, I now have to figure out in which cultures 1 phone call a week is too much and in which 5 SMS messages a day isn’t enough; when you are expected to pay (apparently it is “dutch” until you are serious) and when he feels comfortable enough to fart in front of you (no joke).

I have officially given up. Mom, dad, forget the wedding, future son-in-law and grandchildren and get familiar with and embrace my future as a cat lady.

Easter in Barcelona

Now, to be honest, after finishing up the busy season, with no vacations or relaxing weekends since January, I could have spent Easter weekend just about anywhere and been happy (as long as it wasn’t in Zurich working). BUT I would like to think that Barcelona is one of new favorite cities for reasons outside of work and the need for a holiday.

Thursday morning, I hopped on the plane and found myself in beautiful Barcelona in time for lunch. The rest of the crew was down in Valencia for the day (or flying in on Friday), so I had the whole afternoon to sit on the beach, enjoy the scenery, de-compress from work and start the vacation with a cold beer and the best rotisserie chicken I have ever had (sorry Dad).

The good food and drinking continued from the moment of landing until I left on Sunday afternoon. I ate chicken at O’Pollo on Playa Barceloneta, had nachos at FUC bar with my new friend Joshua (a fellow traveler who was nice enough to spend the evening with me while I waited for everyone to get in town from Valencia), tapas at both Shoko Bar (great dancing) and at Tapas Tapas, Paella at Le Quinze Nits and Pork Stew at the second oldest restaurant in Spain. Not to mention the drinks at Dow Jones Bar (where the price of beer is determined by how much people buy it) and all of the random Irish Pubs we were forced to visit after getting kicked out of a cab (but I am getting ahead of myself).

We spent the days touring the city, checking out all of the famous architecture by Gaudi, shopping on Las Ramblas (trying to avoid the creepy statue guys and pick pocketers) and drinking sangria. The sites were followed by siestas in the afternoon (at our shady hostel on the beach), dinners at 11pm and then dancing and bars.

Man, the Spanish have got it right…work all day, with a mid-day siesta, a late dinner and then dancing until the sun comes up…Truly a beautiful city and culture.

One funny but brief story I feel obligated to tell: On Saturday night it began to rain and therefore cabs were non-existent. We finally managed to hail one down to take 4 of the 8 people to the bar. Upon getting in the cab though, I noticed that the meter flag rate was 3 times higher than it had been all weekend, so I felt inclined to point it out. Unfortunately the cab driver did not appreciate my honest move and decided to throw us all out of his cab about 50 meters down the road. When the cab driver so kindly opened the door for us, we were greeted with the remaining 4 people thinking that they had scored another open cab. It turns out the flag rate was correct and I was wrong, however it worked out in the end as the group remained together. The confusion might have been in part due to my attempt of speaking the new language of Span-germain-glish.

My Life as an Auditor

Contrary to popular belief, I do in fact have a job. I just choose not to blog about it because, well, it isn’t that exciting… boring really. So boring it would bring a normal person to tears. However, due to events beyond my control, my job recently took over my life, against my will, causing no time for life, much less blogging, so my apologies for the month of in-activity.

To start with, my name is Lisa, and I am an auditor. It is my responsibility to ensure a Company’s financial statements used by investors are reasonable. A normal auditing day would consist of coffee, team meetings, understanding the business, documenting that understanding, reviewing that understanding documented by others, long lunches, more meetings, recalculating a few numbers, and an early happy hour.

During “busy season”, the time when the financial statements are prepared and therefore need to be audited, the day is about the same, except dinner is typically with the team and happy hour is around 8pm, not 5pm. An occasional Saturday of work is included for good measure, however that day is typically spent rehashing the previous night’s outing and trying to figure out how you lost the group/your purse and/or shoes after the happy hour.

During this busy season, however, due to unexpected issues announced during my trip to Zermatt, the happy hours ceased to exist all together, in addition to all weekends, holidays and firm sponsored ski weekends. My life as I knew it (traveling, happy hours, Sunday brunches, etc) was officially put on hold beginning February 19….and I just got it back exactly one month later (celebrated with a trip to Barcelona, of course).

The good news is that busy season is over for another year and hopefully by then I will have forgotten all about the pain and trauma of the past month and only remember the good happy times, such as happy hours, long lunches and an amazing amount of time off. (I hear the effects and pain of child birth is similar)

Alright, that is the last you will ever hear of my job…back to the good stuff.

The Griswalds - Part 1

This past Monday, my parents (Ann and Frank), brother (Cody), sister (Dana), sister’s fiancé (Ray), brother’s girlfriend (Kaitlin), brother’s friend from high school (Nick), three family friends from the Lake (Sue, Eric and their son Kyle), and half of Lafayette (just kidding, sort of) concluded their 10 day visit in Switzerland. If you thought that list was extensive, you can only imagine the trouble and fun we had during their stay.

The original concept began with Dana and Ray coming over for a week of skiing during Dana’s winter break. By December, the idea and trip gathered more speed, and collected more debri and innocent observers, than the three most recent avalanches combined, ending with a collection of 10 friends and family members. Coordinating, entertaining, and hosting this many people (during busy season nonetheless) was no easy task.

I decided on sending the crew down to Zermatt, home of the Matterhorn, for a week of “world class” skiing, with time spent in Zurich on either end of the trip. I won’t bore you with the troubles I went through to rent a place in Zermatt, but we ended up with two apartments on either side of town, both up hill. I can now understand the saying “I had to walk to school uphill, both ways”.

Zermatt proved to be a good decision (for reasons other than the 3 lbs I lost hiking the two hills). The weather was beautiful and sunny every day, the skiing was good (but not great for those advanced skiers in the group –sorry guys), we had home cooked meals every night thanks to two fully loaded kitchens and the town offered the Swiss charm I was looking for. This is of course the bright side…in the meantime, everyone was suffering from jet lag and colds, three people (yes, you, Cody, Nick and Kaitlin), almost got on the wrong train from Zurich to Zermatt, (where it was going we are still not sure) and my week was cut short due to work (yes, I do actually work Sue!)

Overall the week is perfectly summed up with the “Brady Bunch” photo of all the kids on the train up to Zermatt and the photo taken at the last bar of the Mountain Run.

The Griswalds - Part 2

Before and after the week in Zermatt the family had two nights in Zurich to check out the city that is now my home. On the front end of the vacation, I took the parents, both sets, on a tour of the city which included the cities most famous site (most of which were still unseen by me) including Gross Munster, Frau Munster, Sternen Grill at Bellevue, Zeughauskeller and Spruengli in Paradeplatz, Old Town “Niederdorf”, fondue at Dezaley and a few watch stores.

On the tail end of the trip, all 10 guests were in town. And unfortunately, after the standard 2 hour tour of Zurich, provided the weekend, half of the group had seen all of the city. So I sent the parents to Lucern and the kids went on a good ol’ fashion Sunday pub crawl. What a better way to end the vacation!

I said my good-byes Monday morning at the train station and experienced the bitter sweet pain, of finally having my house back, at the price as saying good-bye. Seriously, thank you everyone who came out to visit. I hope you had as good of a trip as I did (minus the snooty waiter at dinner on Saturday night in Zurich…seriously who charges CHF 4 for a tap water!).

Skiing the Alps!

I can officially say, I have skied the Alps. And not to brag or anything, but I wasn’t completely awful! For those unaware, I started skiing at the tender age of 5, when my parents dropped me off in ski school, where I proceeded to cry through the entire lesson. My skiing career quickly progressed…I stopped crying, but unfortunately the skills remained about the same. So, still scarred from my first experience and after 8 years of giving it a go, I decided to try snowboarding (that and the outfits and men were a lot cuter). Unfortunately my skills proved no better than those of skiing. So again, after 10 years snowboarding (and too much money spent on rentals and lift tickets), I threw in the towel at age 23 noting it was more enjoyable and cost effective for me to spend the day at the spa and sit in the lodge than actually ski.

But since I am in Switzerland, and the only thing to do in the winter is to ski, I decided to emerge from my 4 year (or 12 year depending on how you count it) hiatus and give skiing another shot. I officially enrolled myself in the Zurich International Ski Team/School which consists of lessons every Sunday for a month. And much to my surprise, I am enjoying myself! Even with the early mornings, freezing cold, icy conditions and lack of cute men (they are all in the snowboarding classes), I feel refreshed and accomplished after a day on the mountain.

I am still not sure if it is the lifestyle, lack of oxygen at this altitude or the post slopes happy hours, but I am definitely enjoying the experience!

I’M BACK!!

Happy New Years!..and my apologies for not updating this website sooner. After three weeks at home and one week of jet lag, I have finally fully recovered from trip home. And what a whirlwind of a trip was it! I know, I know, the blog is about my time in Switzerland, but considering I was in the US for three weeks (or approximately 3/104 of the total rotation) I figured it warranted at least a quick entry… So here is the low down on my trip home:

Flight home, enchiladas, wedding dress shopping (not for me!), Elf Party, bouncer harassment, karaoke, shopping on Union, more wedding dress shopping, Niner football, mimosa brunches, family time, Christmas tree outing in the rain, Feliz Navidad in SF, City Tavern, Dana’s new house, Club Calpella, coffee with the ex, more shopping, more family, Dungeness crab, home made raviolis, Die Hard, Christmas! San Luis Obispo, the Pacific Ocean, more shopping, Tahoe, more karaoke, breakfast burritos and fajitas, New Years, DIBS!, more family, more shopping and finally home to Zurich.

Phew! Good to be back home.