Airing of Grievances

With Christmas just around the corner, it is time to also celebrate those lesser known holidays – specifically Festivus for the Rest of Us. And with this glorious holiday comes the tradition of the Airing of the Grievances - a time to share with loved ones all the ways they have disappointed you over the past year. And while I won’t necessarily air out all of that dirty laundry (primarily because my loved ones have not only not disappointed me at all this year, they surprised me with their constant friendship and support), there are a few gripes/annoyances that I would like to air out. Normally I wouldn’t waste my time (or yours) posting a blog to complain about the little things in life - especially since my grievances are minimum compared to most (I have a great group of friends and family, great health, the ability to travel around the world, and a good job…and for that I am truly thankful) - but in the spirit of Festivus, here it goes.

• The couch – I spent over 2 months sitting on over 100 couches in search of the perfect couch – a dark brown leather couch with a left facing chaise lounge. When I started the mission, it seemed pretty straight forward. I now stand corrected. Like Goldilocks and her search for perfection, the couches were all too big, too firm or facing the wrong way. I finally found one that fit all of my criteria at Macy’s, bought it online, had it delivered and set up only to find out that after 1.5 days that I hated it so much it made me physically upset…too dark, too much leather, too much couch all together. The good news, I was able to call Macy’s to return it; they will be picking it back up next week and I only have to pay a 10% re-stocking fee. The bad news, I still don’t have a couch and am even more hesitant to buy anything…especially now since I no longer want a dark brown leather left facing chaise.

• The Paycheck – After not working for 5 months and living off my savings account, I was really looking forward to getting my first paycheck on December 15th. On payday I eagerly opened up my online bank account to notice a little blip of $300. Upon further review, I realized that this blip was in fact my “paycheck”. Yes, for the 88 hours of work I clocked the first two weeks back to work I was paid just over $300, or less than $4/hour. That is less than half of minimum wage in SF. So either my company, an accounting firm, messed up the accounting or they are not- so-subtly trying to get rid of me ala Milton from Office Space…my friends are convinced it is the latter. While Accounting is in the process of figuring out what went wrong, I am stuck without a paycheck and Christmas presents to buy.
  

• The Apartment –Like the couch, I looked at one too many apartments and finally settled on a spacious one bedroom apartment in a great location. The downside, it lacked all charm that I would normally expect from a SF apartment (i.e. bay windows, crown molding, built-in cabinets, etc). But I had to compromise at some point and I decided that what it lacked in charm, I could make up for it in decorating (so far, I am failing miserably, i.e the couch). However, what is more frustrating than the flat, blank walls is the constant clicking noise coming from the wall in between the bedroom and living room and the broken heater…and I don’t mean the heater doesn’t work, unfortunately not, it in fact works too well. Yes, it is 40 degrees outside and a whooping 85 in my bedroom. The damn thing won’t turn off. So I have two choices, sleep with the window wide open and listen to cars all night, or enjoy a sleepless night tossing and turning in the heat. For me, it is the equivalent of Dante’s second circle of hell.
  

• And finally the pieces of straw that are breaking my camel’s back – my ugly Christmas sweater that I order online didn’t make it in time for the ugly Christmas sweater party at work, my work pants no longer fit after 5 months off requiring a whole new wardrobe, and I haven’t seen Martin in over 4 weeks, with one and half left to go.

Santa all I want for Christmas is a break…Happy Festivus!

The Gimbel Family Christmas Tree

The holidays are one of my favorite times of year, with all of the traditions, festivities and eating and drinking. My family is a sucker for traditions so there are a handful of things we do each and every year to properly celebrate the season including: crab and homemade raviolis on Christmas Eve; buying a new ornaments for the tree; Dad giving us advent calendars to count down the days; and chopping down the Gimbel family Christmas Tree…which for some reason always ends up looking like Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree.

For as long back as I can remember we have always cut down our own Christmas tree. The adventure begins in the morning with the drive out to the tree farm, laughing about the misfit trees we had gotten in the past; us wandering around the hill in the mud and sometimes rain in search of the perfect tree; each person picking out their favorite tree and the discussions and negotiations that follow; always returning to the first tree we had seen after concluding it was the best; Dad cutting down the tree with Cody’s help while the girls supervisor; the required call of “Sept-timber” to signal the fall of the tree; tying the tree to the car/suburban and now truck; and then deli sandwiches afterwards. This formula has been followed, more or less for the past 20+ years, for better or worse (including the one year I decided to take up smoking the afternoon we were to pick out the tree resulting in me subsequently puked in the toilet because I couldn’t handle it…thankfully I was given the front seat of the car to prevent any additional sickness).

As the years go by the tradition has evolved and slowly adapted. And now that we are of age, it has become a tradition that at least one, if not all of the kids are hung over for the occasion resulting in fewer fights over what tree we get (sometimes you just can’t be bothered, what with a throbbing headache and the spins), but typically less stellar trees …To prove our commitment to traditions, Cody may or may not have been accidentally roofied the night before one outing a few years back but he still managed to pull it together.

So! With the whole family together this past Thanksgiving weekend up at the Lake, we took the opportunity to carry on the tradition and cut down a tree (this time on the top of Hull Mountain, rather than a tree farm). Cody and I awoke Friday morning perfectly hung over from the night before, ready to tackle the mountain to get our tree. We all piled into the pick-up truck, with Dana and Ray, Ray’s parents and approximately 15 other friends and family members in the other 7+ trucks, and made our way up the hill. After the hour long drive on the winding, dirt road, through snow and severe road ruts we reached the top and hopped out to find ourselves with a wide selection of perfect trees, and a whiteout snow storm.

True to form - hung over, cold and tired - Cody, Mom and I found the first decent looking tree and considered the task complete… thankfully Dad, the voice of reason, refused to settle and wandered off to find a more presentable tree. It took about 5 more minutes and less than 20 feet to find it…and before my hands had frozen completely Cody and Dad were on the ground, cutting down our perfect, less Charlie Brown than usual, Christmas tree.

And while we didn’t have the local deli to supply our lunch (the Thanksgiving leftovers did just fine), the Gimbel Family Christmas Tree tradition continues on for one more year.

Back to Work

I officially return back to work tomorrow in San Francisco after five months off and I would like to think that I am both mentally and physically prepared for the big day. I have packed my bag, laid out my “back to work” outfit and have set my alarm for the first time in who knows how many months.

Unfortunately, the return of work also means a significant decrease in free time. So, while I will try to continue to share my stories, the posts might be more sporadic than in the past. That is unless any of you know of a job that will provide me endless free time, international travel and the ability to wear jeans to work….seriously, I am interested!

Wish me luck!

My 5 Month Sabbatical - A Special Thanksgiving

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, I would like to take time to give thanks to all that has been important, influential or significant in my life this past year. And in addition to the usual suspects (i.e. friends, family, good health) I would also like to give thanks to my company, which has allowed me to take a 5 month sabbatical from work, and which will officially end this next Tuesday. I had high hopes and plans for this time off: discover who I was, figure out what I wanted to do/be, reconnect with friends and family and hopefully be ready to go back to work. In retrospect, during the five months, I did some serious travelling, caught up on my personal life and did some not so successful soul searching….here is the breakdown.

Four weeks into the extended vacation, I could no longer distinguish between a weekday and weekend. And around week 7, I had enjoyed some serious bonding time with my mom, brother and dad…on one Tuesday, I managed to spend 4 hours watching Bridezilla with my dad, who at one point asked for the remote, not to turn the channel (which was my fear), but rather to record the next episode.

By month three, my sabbatical with work officially ended (meaning my three months of partial pay and full benefits) and my Leave of Absence began. And with the beginning of the LOA and only two months off left, I developed a strong aversion to all responsibility and commitments. However, like karma, responsibility came back with vengeance. Exactly three months and one week in and my finances were a wreck… insurance claims (both health and car), canceled credit cards and frozen Swiss bank accounts.

By the end of month four, the onset of work seemed inevitable so I began to assess my time off so far. And while I hadn’t (and probably wouldn’t) accomplish most items on my list of goals, - learn guitar, take singing lessons, perfect my German and write the great American novel - I couldn’t deny the fact that I was having a great time…this moment was of course followed by the fleeting regret that I had just wasted four plus months doing absolutely nothing - I hadn’t figured out what I wanted to do with my life, hadn’t even really looked back at my time in Europe and my brain power overall was seriously depleted (I could no longer remembers dates, key facts and was more ditzy and forgetful than my pregnant girlfriends.) It was around this time that, although consciously dreading the return to work, I was also beginning to look forward to getting back into some sort of routine and rejoining the community of working people.

I guess in the end, the sabbatical served some purpose…I got to see a lot of great friends all over the world and at the end I was, and am, ready to go back to work. The question really is, how long will I want to stay back at work.

Twenty-Five Francs or Less

After four months of not working, along with some serious travelling, my savings account had officially dwindled down to nothing. So in an attempt to prevent the onset of serious debt, come December, I was on a mission to be as thrifty as possible during my three weeks in Zurich. In hindsight, Zurich is not the best place to stop spending money…but ever resourceful, I did manage to find a few activities outside of dinners, lunches and drinks for 25 francs or less.

My first weekend in town proved to be a discouraging start… Martin and I went to the Zurich Zoo for an afternoon of wildlife only to find out admittance (even with the possible onset of rain) was CHF22 per person - which was still below my limit, but left no room for snacks or souvenirs. Thankfully the rain held off and the zoo surpassed my childhood memories of sad animals behind cages…It did help that I spent a fair amount of time trying to avoid the scariest animals in the place …not the lions or tigers, but rather the local “Swiss Mother” with zoo-issued stroller, who would rather run you over or off into the cages than make their child wait a few moments to spot an animal… I may or may not have had a slight anxiety attack in the reptile house due to too many strollers, kids and snakes in such a confined space.

Martin and I also enjoyed the Zurich Oktoberfest my first weekend in town, where CHF25 will get you a large beer, a pretzel and polka music…at least I think it will get you a pretzel, Martin and I made the mistake of foregoing dinner and drinking instead. He had somehow convinced me that 3 one-liter beers equal one schnitzel…we later found out that this is not the case. Yes, cranky, hungry, jet-lag Lisa made a return appearance, resulting in an earlier bed-time than the Friday night deserved

The CHF25 got us a little further at the Zurich Wine Boats, where 20 francs got Martin and me into the festive boats to taste wines from all over Europe and parts of the world. We spent the evening hanging out with friends and drinking great wines from both large and small wineries. And with our extra money I was able to buy a cheese pie afterwards for a late night snack.

Throughout the weeks, while Martin was at work, I took my CHF25 to the Kunsthaus (Art Museum), Swiss National Museum (where admittance is only CHF10… and where I should have spent the extra CHF5 for the English museum guide, as most of the displays were only in German), and the St. Gallen Library, a world UNESCO heritage site recognized as having the richest medieval libraries in the world… or at least that is what Wikipedia told me, after travelling to St. Gallen I was informed that the library was closed to the public from November 9 through the 29th. I was also looking forward to spending my money on the Lindt chocolate factory tour, only to find out that the tours, while when they occurred were free, are no longer offered. The money was subsequently spent at the Lindt factory discount store, a close second to Willy Wonkas, unfortunately minus the oompa loompas.

To wrap up the weeks of savings, Martin and I celebrated with the outdoor Christmas Market (free) and glasses of gluhwein (mulled wine for CHF5 apiece)…unfortunately after four glasses of wine, our budget was all but spent and dinner out that night was a “splurge”. I guess you can’t win them all. However, for a city as expensive as Zurich, CHF25 surprisingly goes a long way.

The Indoor Pools

This past weekend Martin and I finally made our way to Vals, Switzerland to visit the architecturally renowned Hotel Therme, designed by Peter Zumthor, Martin had been wanting to check out the buildings and surrounding area for sometime…and after awhile (and a glimpse at a photo) I wanted to see the spa. So Saturday morning, we made our way out of Zurich and towards the middle of nowhere, on first a train and then a bus, through winding valleys with sheer cliffs, alongside a crystal blue river and found ourselves in the small village of Vals. With the towns’ buildings still relatively traditional, I couldn’t help to think that Heidi would have felt at home in this valley…of course, she might have been thrown by the new hotel and spa tucked away up the hill.

We immediately checked in, grabbed our wristbands and bathing suits and headed to the spa. Even with all of the hype and own expectations based on the one photo I had seen, I was still blown away by the design and space of the place. The building was structured like a large cube, built entirely of stone (for the sake of the story, let’s call it granite although it might have been quartzatine) and within the cube, were various pools ranging in temperature (freezing to hot tub style) and size (a closet to normal pool). But what made the place unique, was that rather than have the pools created by indentations in the open floor with guests entering the water from any side, instead each sunken pool was hidden and defined by floor to ceiling walls of granite and accessed through the stairs at the doorway. So at times, what appeared to be just a corner or side room, was in fact a new and hidden pool. With the sheer walls and hidden rooms, this place fully satisfied my childhood dream of flooding my parents’ house in order to have an indoor pool…it was awesome. And making things even more surreal was the one additional pool with access inside and outside (providing views of the Alps across the valley), separated by a glass wall with a 2’ opening… Martin and I spent the first half an hour just walking around the building, discovering all the different rooms and pools and finding the right one.

In case my accounting-like description has failed to help you visual the place, I have borrowed the following image from their website:

We left the pools only when our hands were well past the normal “old man/raisin” status (and after we were attacked by an older couple who insisted on making out as close to other people as possible…I thought they were going to ask Martin to join in at one point), but returned again before dinner and again the following morning. And while the pools were the main reason for the trip, our time outside the water was just as enjoyable: a four course dinner at the hotel restaurant where it was determined that at any given meal Martin consumes approximately half of my plate and all of his and in fact, the only aspect of dinner that I finish my portion is in the consumption of wine; after dinner drinks in the hotel lounge listening to the piano and discussing life’s random questions such as who would be more menacing in a street fight – Martin with his knowledge of kickboxing, or me with my purse/windmill technique – we had to agree to disagree in the end; and an after breakfast stroll Sunday morning through the little village and surrounding hills before heading back home.

The trip left me completely relaxed and with the desire to once again flood a room in the house for an indoor pool.

Back to Zurich

The weekend of Halloween was absolutely beautiful, followed by gorgeous sunny weather all week in San Francisco…so when I woke up Wednesday morning to the freezing cold and rain, it could only mean one thing – I was back in Zurich, Switzerland. Yes, last Sunday I was wearing jeans, Uggs and a tank top…on Thursday I was wearing jeans, Uggs, a tank top, sweater, jacket, hat gloves, and scarf and I was still cold. It was a subtle reminder of why I moved back to California. After just a few quick days however, including lunches, dinners and happy hours with friends and more importantly, a record number of sunny days in November, I was reminded again why it is so hard to leave. This place is truly special.

More stories to follow, once the jet lag subsides and I do something other than eat, sleep and drink…although really, what else do I normally write about.

A Very Scary Halloween

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays in the US, and since Europe doesn’t really celebrate the Day of the Dead, I was excited to be back in California for the party this year. To properly celebrate the night of fright, I participated in one of the scariest things imaginable…a weekend long baby shower for two of my best friends. And while it might not be fair to call a baby shower scary, if you knew these girls in their former, non-married, pre-baby lives, you too would be somewhat alarmed at where life’s paths have led us and therefore afraid of the one question that begged to be asked (i.e. if they are mature enough to have babies, does that mean I need to grow up as well? – in case you were curious, the answer to that question was apparently NO, as the events of the weekend proved).

The Itsy Bitsy Spider weekend was hosted by Anjulee at her “ranch” house in Soledad, CA (I woke up Friday morning to the view of tractors and the bleating of her pet goat, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves). With no plans on Friday, Dana and I drove down to Soledad on Thursday night to help set up and prepare for the weekend. We spent approximately 2 hours on Friday preparing the house and food, followed by three hours of wine tasting at the local wineries and a case of bud light at one of her neighbor’s house…in true form, we were good and drunk when the ladies of honor showed up (and we were lucky that they even found us at all, considering we forgot to put out signs indicating the way to the well hidden house).

To continue with my current trend of hangovers and baby showers, I was appropriately weathered on Saturday morning for the baby shower brunch and full day of baby shower activities including: carving pumpkins, sitting around the table catching up, watching the show “I didn’t know I was pregnant” (which is clearly a great idea for a baby shower) and opening baby presents, during which Neff and I made up the drinking game “drink every time someone says ‘cute’”…mature? probably not, but at least it got rid of my hang over.

We cooked dinner in Saturday night and welcomed a total of two trick-or-treaters for free candy. And to wrap up the Halloween night, we watched the classic scary movie – Scream. In truth, was this the Halloween experience I had been looking forward to during the past two years in Europe? Not really. But would I change anything about the weekend and opt for a crazy night out with a bunch of scantily clad, slightly intoxicated strangers? Definitely not.

Moving – Discovering a Two Year Time Capsule

To state the obvious, there are two parts to any move…moving out and moving in. For most people, moving out is the hard part: packing up all of your belongings, deciding what to keep and what to throw away and fretting over broken and lost items. I beg to differ…When I moved out of my apartment in SF two and a half years ago, I took pride in my packing efforts and was meticulous in every aspect: labeling every box, keeping only what was necessary and what I would want in two years and perfectly organizing my storage unit for maximum use (okay, so I technically left that last one up to my movers, but I did supervise). And when I moved out of my apartment in Zurich recently, I had it much easier…especially since Martin was staying put. I packed up my clothes, shoes and purses (at least those that fit into my 6 bags) and hopped on the next plane to San Francisco…(again, in reality, I have been taking two bags back to CA since Christmas 2008 and will be picking up 2 more this upcoming trip, but you get the picture.)

Moving back into SF has been a whole different story…With the move back from Zurich completed in June, I had been prolonging the dreaded move-in for three and a half months. The idea of tying myself down to an apartment, let alone a city for a one-year lease scared the poop out of me. Add to that the idea of investing in furniture to fill the new place., and I officially had the shakes I finally made the plunge this past week; I signed the lease on my new apartment, called the movers and re-discovered all of my belongings I had so preciously tucked away a couple of years ago. First thing I noticed missing…my bed. I am not sure what happened to it, or more importantly what relative’s bedroom it ended up in, but I no longer owned a bed. Good thing I had an Aerobed (yes, my first night in my glamorous new apartment in SF was spent on a blow-up mattress)…I quickly added “buying a new mattress” to the top of my list of things to do the next day. Second thing missing: the TV. Unlike the bed, I vaguely remember deciding to give the TV away, since I reckoned I would want to upgrade once I returned…I guessed right and immediately went out and bought a modest sized flat screen Samsung: the baby version to my TV in Zurich.

Among the other items missing and/or given away in the move…the microwave, towels, a shoe rack, bookshelf, all my hangers and probably countless other items that I have long forgotten about. However, in all my insight so many years ago, I did manage to save, pack and not break: 6 martini glasses, 6 wine glasses, 3 margarita glasses, 2 Tiki Tom glasses, and of course my favorite two beer cozies “I may not be perfect, but I am so close it’s scary” and “Have you ever noticed that Cupid rhymes with stupid”. Clearly my definition of “necessity” was slightly different a few years ago…along with my idea of “clean”… half of the items pulled out of storage were filthy.

So while I spent the past few days running around the city to buy the missing items (including 4 trips to Target) and washing everything I own, I have to sit back and smile about my belongings saved from years before…I guess my packing job was more of a time capsule to my crazy life in SF than furnishings to a proper apartment.

Burgers, Beers and Mexican

While some people go to the wine country to taste the award winning wines, eat the fine foods and enjoy the beautiful views and memorable sunsets, this past weekend, I chose a less conventional option….burgers, beers and homemade Mexican food. It was a perfect way to spend the weekend.

With Ange and her husband Scott staying at her extended family’s house in Healdsburg, Dana and I decided to crash the party and meet up in wine country. We both got to Healdsburg mid-morning on Saturday and Ange, Dana and I immediately fell into our normal routine of sitting around the kitchen table, catching up and talking about everything and nothing at the same time…(thankfully Scott wasn’t around to give us a hard time about wasting a beautiful day outside doing absolutely nothing).

It was only the development of hunger pains that motivated us out of the house in search of food…that search led us to the Healdsburg Bar and Grill for hamburgers where we sat on the patio, people watching and marveling at the after-effects of too much wine tasting…the rowdiest group of overindulged wine tasters were old enough to know better, making me feel less guilty about my previous showings at the various wineries.

After a quick stroll around town, and a stop at the grocery store, we were back at the house, on the deck, enjoying the views of the countless vineyards dotting the valley, and sipping a nice, full bodied…wait for it…Pacifico beer, with a lime of course (I do have some class, however small and disputable it may be). The rest of the night was spent indulging in guilty pleasures…hanging out, making fajitas and fresh guacamole, and watching trashy TV. And to perfectly complete the weekend of all things non-“Napa”, we avoided the local boutiques on Sunday morning and instead opted for every box-store available…Bed, Bath and Beyond, Michaels, Target, Aaron Brothers, etc.

Again, it was a perfect weekend, although it does make me want to come back again soon to do it properly… that is, the same thing, but possibly with wine.

The Blocks in Seattle

Like leaving college, one of the hardest things about leaving Zurich was wondering when I will ever see my friends - with whom so much had been shared, in such a short period of time - again. And while I have made my college friendships last over the years, the Zurich friendships already have so many more variables: different jobs, cities, states, countries plus husbands, wives and more importantly, children, which makes traveling and meeting up together on whim in say Vegas, so much more difficult. But like college, I was and am ready for the challenge.

In spirit of keeping up, I spent a few days this past week in Seattle visiting my friends Andy, Shannon and their baby Hadley (who, at 8 months, is an adorable little munchkin and past my 6 month age requirement, making it possible to play with and hold)…introducing, the Block Family, some of my best friends from Zurich. While in Zurich, I travelled everywhere with these guys - Ireland, Prague, Greece, the Alps, etc., - so with both of us state-side again, it seemed only natural to head up to Seattle and actually see where they call home. I had been to Seattle before, both on a family road trip Griswald style and to visit Joanna during college break, however those trips were over 10 years ago and I was excited to re-discover the place.

It took me all of 10 minutes to fall in love with the city and fall back into old ways with the Block family. Autumn was in the air and on the trees, with crisp mornings smelling of rain and the bright reds, oranges, and yellows of the city foliage. And despite the occasional rain, no umbrella was ever truly needed, unlike the rains of Zurich…

With just two days, we manage to pack in a lot… dinners in, dinners out, bottles of wine, happy hours, brunches, good conversations and, while Andy had to work, Shannon, Hadley and I were able to spend the two days shopping in the various neighborhoods, walking around Green Lake with her friend Julie and son, Bennett, and a sushi lunch with the girls like old times (although we were missing one crucial element…Anna!). The only thing we did not mange to fit in was the Seattle “Duck” tour, something I would have never considered before, but thought sounded like fun for Seattle for some reason…I guess we will have to save that one for the sequel.

The two days with the Blocks in Seattle felt just like the usual night at the Block’s house in Zurich – comfortable, fun and always entertaining. It felt like I had never left Zurich or said goodbye to my friends there…yes, everything was right with the world. And while I still worry about years to come and what will happen, I am more faithful in the strength of our friendships and the ability to last over time.

The McLawry Wedding in Manley!

A word to the wise…if you invite me to a party, I will make damn sure I am there. It doesn’t matter where it is (Europe, Cuba, Antarctica), you tell me when and where, and there is a 95% chance I will have bought my flight, party outfit and gift before the official invitations go out. Do NOT extend me a courtesy invite with hopes of an RSVP of “No, with regrets”…it will not happen. Based on this premise, it should be no surprise that when my favorite Australian couple in Zurich invited me to their wedding in Australia (although the invite was jokingly “contested” by the groom to be, Nick) I knew I was going to make the journey to Sydney to celebrate the momentous occasion.

With the wedding on Saturday, I arrived at Kim’s house in Manley on Friday to hang out with the bride and bridesmaids and help with the last minute items before the big day. My main tasks included a laundry list of items prepared by Kim’s family (cleaning the house, running errands, etc), running interference between Kim’s family and Kim and most importantly, keeping Kim happy with plenty of champagne. I was officially, the un-official bridesmaid biatch and it was a job I took on whole-heartedly and with pride …I was Kim’s minion on the job in Zurich and was happy to transfer the skills from work to wedding. And even better, it was great to have a chance to spend time with Kim before the big day.

And the big day was absolutely beautiful. The week of rain cleared up in time for the ceremony on the beach and everything followed flawlessly from there. The reception was perfect, speeches were intimate and funny and Kim had thoughtfully placed me at the rowdy table, who , along with all of Kim and Nick’s other friends, brought me into the group immediately….going to a wedding alone is scary enough, but doing it in a different country is something else. Thanks to their friends’ openness, this was one of the most fun weddings I have been to. Truly, you can judge a person by their friends, and not surprisingly the couple’s friends were all great people, who went out of their way to make me feel like I had known them all forever.

The party went into the early hours of the morning and I was sorry to see the night, and holiday, end…. I had absentmindedly bought my flight home for the following day, which meant I had to miss out on the Sunday BBQ at Kim’s house and the final send off of the newly married couple. Thankfully I was able to catch up with Kim in the hotel before she headed home and laugh with her at all of the funny stories from the night before. And, in true Aussie fashion, I managed to have one last Australian beer with some friends (Pete and Bianca), whom I randomly ran into on the promenade before heading home.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday

Approximately 35 years ago, an Australian man and a Californian lady met on a train in Europe and developed a quick, but lasting friendship. Twenty five years later, the Australian man once again contacted his friend and organized a chance for one of his young, enthusiastic employees (plus three friends) to move to Tahoe to work the snow season and live with his friend from so many years before. While in California, and for the 10 years to come, I had a chance to meet these young Australians (Greg, Ryan, Adam, Matt, plus their countless visiting friends) and, in turn, develop a few more friendships between an Australian guy and a Californian girl. I have been there through it all with these guys… bad hair, big moves, new jobs, and countless nights out on the town…where ever that town might have been (Costa Rica, Europe, California or with their friends and families in Sydney). SO…when I planned my trip to Sydney for a friend’s wedding this past weekend, I made sure to include some extra time during my visit to catch up with my favorite Australian guys.

I landed early Tuesday morning and made my way over to Ryan and Dallas’s house in Cronulla to drop off my stuff and get prepared for the day…. After a quick shower, I grabbed Ryan (he had the day off work) and we made the 5 minute walk to the town’s main street to meet up with Adam (he had the whole week off) and Greg (he had the day off as well) for breakfast, where they had the nerve to give me crap about only being around mid- week - a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday to be exact - clearly ignoring the fact that although it was a week day, none of them were working. The rest of the day was spent at Adam’s house enjoying the afternoon sun and Australian beers and watching the surfers below. Being old friends, with old habits, we waited until noon before cracking open the first beer; and, being Tuesday, we ended the day at Northies bar for Trivia Night, where I was relentlessly heckled by the MC for being America and slightly crazy….I blame the alcohol and my jet lag.

The rest of the two days continued in a similar fashion, with a slight pause for a tour around Sydney with Adam on Wednesday while everyone was at work. Having been to Sydney before, one would think I had already seen all of the sights of the great city…and in fact, the boys were kind enough to humor my desires so many years ago with a quick stop off at the Opera House for a glimpse at the Harbor Bridge, before heading to the pub for Rugby World Cup (apparently we had to get to the pub 6 hours in advance in order to lock in a good spot which prevented any additional sightseeing). This time around, the tour was more or less the same, although in the opposite direction… Adam and I began the day at Darling Harbor (the area built up for the Olympic Games in 2002 and where we enjoyed Rugby World Cup in 2003), took the ferry under the Harbor Bridge, past the Opera House and disembarked at Circular Quay for a quick stroll through the Rocks (the oldest part of Sydney). However, the highlight of the tour was not the sights or boat ride, but rather the meat pie we enjoyed at the very end. I had been waiting six long years for another taste of the Australian delicacy of dodgy but delicious, unidentifiable meat in a pastry puff. Unfortunately my meat pie eating skills had all but disappeared in those six years, and every pigeon within earshot of my American accent had me marked as an easy target for dropped food. I did not disappoint… the pie and ketchup went everywhere.

The week of “events” ended Thursday night with the whole crew at a Mexican restaurant chosen not for the food (which is a good thing...it is hard to impress a California girl on Mexican cuisine), but rather for the tequila options and buckets of beer. And with 7 out of 10 of the friends not working the following day (along with the tequila options and buckets of beer of course), things escalated quickly. So much so that one of the three who had to work ended up calling in sick and I, at least my liver, was silently thankful that I would not be around for the weekend.

I said good-bye the next morning with a promise that the next time I came to visit I would make sure to include a weekend in the visit….and with that promise, sincere apologies to my liver.

To a Friend Lost

For as long as I can remember my family has always maintained a “farm-like” residence in the suburbs of San Francisco…Growing up, we had the normal pets such as dogs, cats, guinea pigs, and hamsters along with the not so standard but still somewhat normal rabbits, turtles, and fish, followed by the true farm yard animals of chickens, ducks and a wild boar (although the boar was only part of the family for approximately 5 hours). So when I showed up at my family’s house nine years ago on break from college with dirty laundry and a baby chick, my parents were less surprised than say, the standard nuclear family in suburbia.

I had rescued Petri, my pet chicken, from a friend;s hungry pet snake and found myself, at the age of 19, the mother of a new baby chick. She lived with me at college, following me around the yard and chirping when I wasn’t around until Thanksgiving when I took her up to my parent’s house to be integrated into the family chicken coop. And while I headed back to college for the winter term, Petri took over my spot (and room) at home…my sister has yet to forgive me or my parents for that experience. And once spring arrived, Petri was outside in the main coop, fighting her way up the pecking order and eventually earning her spot amongst the others. For the years to come, Petri enjoyed a privileged life, being let out of the coop to roam the yard for bugs, chasing dogs and children alike around the lawn in attack/play mode and loving the extra attention from my parents and me. She was as much adored as a family chicken could be.

And as the other chickens died and were replaced, I figured Petri’s days were numbered; she was reaching an unheard of old age for chickens. So while I was expecting to get the phone call from my parents that Petri had died, I would have never expected her to go out fighting a suspected raccoon in the middle of the night, disappearing forever without a trace. Unfortunately, that was the reality I had to face last week, upon returning home from my sister’s house. I felt sick to my stomach looking at the crime scene of missing chicken and an usual amount of feathers, wishing a better end for my first and only chicken. So, to Petri, I hope you enjoyed your nine years as a Gimbel and are living freely up on the hillside, with maybe a few missing feathers, but otherwise, unharmed.

Hiking in the Alps

At some point during Martin’s visit to New York (I think I was wearing a dress and heels) we decided to plan a two day “hut hike” in the Alps for my then upcoming trip to Switzerland. (Definition: a hut hike is a hike through the Alps which takes more than one day and therefore hikers stay at “huts” or modest hostel like structures in the middle of nowhere which provide dinner, breakfast and a place to sleep before continuing on the next day. These huts allow hikers to reach more deserted areas and higher peaks).

Considering I was heading straight to Switzerland from NY and had really only packed city clothes (and my city girl attitude), I had a lot to do to both physically and mentally prepare myself for the adventure. First things first, I needed a proper hiking “outfit” (aka hiking boots, socks, and pants…thankfully Martin was able to supply the rest). With the help of Anna and a lovely sales clerk (who took the time to explain everything – a first for me in Zurich) I was properly equipped with a properly matching outfit. After buying my shoes (which I thought was enough) Martin encouraged me to walk around in them throughout the week to ward off the chance of blisters... Embarrassed with the unfashionable outfit, I spent about 40 minutes on a walk//hike around Zurich feeling somewhat ridiculous.

And finally, with the outfit sorted out and shoes somewhat broken in, Martin and I prepared and packed the lunches and snacks for the two days (dinner and breakfast was provided by the hut). In total we packed five sandwiches, 4 wiener schnitzels, 1 kilo of trail mix, 3 apples, 8 meat sticks and 14 granola bars…some might say we over packed on the food, but given our past experiences of me getting tired and hungry, I still feel it was not overzealous, but rather properly prepared….a according to my mom, a girl scout is always prepared.

Saturday morning arrived and we were up before dawn to catch our train down to the Alps. But first Martin had to tape up my heel to protect my already existing blister from getting worse… unfortunately I had gotten a blister the day before, not from my hiking shoes, but rather the ballerina flats I had worn to lunch. I was definitely the rookie in the group and it was already showing. Thankfully, that was my one and only blister…the boots fit great and I had no additional problems.

We began our hike at the Schynige Platte and ended the day at our hut at Berghaus Manndlenen approximately 4 hours away which included a 450m climb. To avoid an understatement of the scenery, below are some photos from the first day.

We arrived at the hut earlier than expected and enjoyed our first (of many) hard earned beers on the sun deck. In all honesty, beer had never tasted so good. Dinner was served early, so we spent the remainder of the evening in a more-competitive-than-necessary game of Sorry…we were all exhausted from the days hike, but no one wanted to quit without a proper winner. The game finally ended at 10pm, after Braden claimed victory, and we were in bed, fast asleep before 10:30.

We awoke early the next day, ready for the final leg of the hike to Grosse Scheidegg, approximately 5.5 hours away with a 350m vertical climb in the beginning, followed by a 790m descent. The first portion of the hike was straight up the side of the mountain ridge, sometimes closer to the edge than comfortable, so I was thankful for the dense blanket of fog that prevented our views of the steep drop off. Again…snapshots of Day 2.

Stunning views aside, the highlight of the day was not only hearing, but seeing a large avalanche come off the north face of the Eigor (one of Europe’s most famous mountains). Thankfully we saw it from a safe distance.

We ended the hike with another beer before hopping on the bus/train home. The ride home was quiet (we were completely dead after the hike), but I felt a sense of accomplishment after the two days. And while I still don’t consider myself a hiker just yet, I would love to do another hut hike next summer (although in hindsight, I probably wouldn’t do it the second to last night with Martin for 5 weeks…sleeping in one room with 30 strangers is a different kind of romantic).

Back in der Schweiz

From the city that never sleeps, to the city that never seems fully awake, I headed from New York to Zurich for a ten day visit with Martin and friends. First order of business - stir things up with a proper Hen’s Night (aka bachelorette party) appropriately themed The McLawry Wedding Olympics. I thought it was the perfect idea given the sportiness of the couple to be, Kim and Nick, plus it allowed me to run around the city with a whistle, stop watch and score cards used to score everything from dance moves to barstool dismounts. I may have abused the whistle privileges, but trying to coordinate and corral 24 mostly drunk woman from bar to bar without it would have been near impossible. The party went the full marathon…4pm to 4am. I would call it a success.

Up next , EAT! And eat I did - of course only in the company of friends. I did lunches with old friends and co-workers, sushi with Anna, a BBQ to send off the to-be married couple and my favorite, dinners cooked in with Martin. All throughout this eating binge, I made sure to eat my fill of all things Europe…like missing Mexican while living in Switzerland, I had also begun to miss certain things available only in der Schweiz (kebaps and currywurst just to name a few).

And, not surprisingly, friends and food were not the only thing I had missed…. So in addition to eating the wide assortment of cheeses and drinking the cheap European wines with loved ones, I made sure to do the things only acceptable in Europe - making out in public without getting dirty looks, drinking alcoholic beverages in public and, even better, making out while drinking alcoholic beverages in public… All kidding aside, it was great to be back and it made me miss my life over there…I think the only solution is to split my time between CA and Europe. Now I just need to find a job that can make that happen.

My final order of business while in town was to get prepared for the two day hike in the Alps with Martin, Anna, Braden and Bosco (Braden and Anna’s dog). This task was going to take me all week.

I Love this City

With the arrival of Monday, Erin unfortunately had to go back to work (her one week holiday from work had to end sometime I suppose) and Joanna and I (and then just me) were left to navigate the city alone. And after the full day with Joanna, and two remaining days with just myself, I fell in love with NYC all over again.

There is just something so empowering about walking outside, hailing down a taxi and meeting up with friends for dinner or drinks. Or even better, walking down the stairs to the subway and being able to manage the whole city without a map. The diversity and livelihood of the city can be found everywhere: and on any given day or night there is plenty to see and do.

Over the course of the two weeks I ate Ethiopian, Thai, Sushi, Pizza, Hot Dogs, Greek, Spanish Tapas and Italian (enjoyed at the San Gennaro festival in Little Italy). I saw the Counting Crows play in Central Park, an 80’s cover band in SoHo and rocked out like I was Whitney Houston at karaoke. Plus I accidentally ran into Dr. Phil (the real one) on the first stop of his tour across America, caught a glimpse of Bill Clinton and his entire entourage (and just missed Obama) and stumbled across the set of the new Sex and the City movie, where I saw the crew, cameras and lights and Joanna may or may not have seen SJP herself.

We enjoyed long lunches, with sometimes too many cocktails, brunches mid week and spent every day shopping in one way or another. I even broke my cardinal rule and went into DSW aka Designed Shoe Warehouse based on hopes at snagging a cheap pair of Jimmy Choo’s . However, based on past experience, this time around I limited myself to 10 minutes tops and one hot lap to avoid the dreaded DSW effect – after too much time looking at ugly shoes, the least ugly pair tends to start looking incredibly cute and you end up buying a pair of purple polka dotted Charles David heels which could only be worn on a tacky yacht in…well I really don’t know where, hence the problem (this is all hypothetically speaking of course) – to me, this theory also applies to guys in small towns and bars.

But even with all of the celebrity sightings and countless events…my favorite memories from the two weeks include the time I got to spend with my friends who live in NY. Two solid weeks with Erin and one with Joanna, dinner with Katya and the girls on Monday, celebrating Boozeday Tuesday like old times with Lindsay, and drinks with Kim and the old co-workers on Wednesday (although technically Kim doesn’t live in NY, she was just there for business).

The two week holiday was officially over on Thursday…I thought it ended too soon…but I am sure my liver, finances and Erin would probably disagree. Did I mention I was staying with Erin during those two whole weeks in her studio apartment… Yeah, we are good friends, but no one is really THAT close. Love you Erin.

New York, New York ...the City That Never Sleeps

This past week in NYC was packed full of events, celebrations and shows…and I am sure each one were amazing…however we (Joanna, Erin and I) didn’t manage to participate in any of them. We opted, instead for the week long “Spring Break-esque” self-made party.

With Erin back from the Hamptons on Monday and Martin on his flight back to Switzerland, Erin took me out to Mexican for my birthday dinner. We started the dinner with margaritas and guacamole…and ended the dinner with margaritas with guacamole. Yes, it was the perfect meal, we each had a pitcher of margaritas and a side of guacamole…no more, and no less (thankfully… any more would have been truly ugly. One of us may or may not have passed out on the toilet later that night). Truly a perfect birthday dinner…and perfect start to the week. Who needs city wide celebrations when you have friends like these!

With the arrival of Joanna on Wednesday night, the debauchery continued without slowing down… that is until our attempt on Thursday evening. After two hot messes of a night in a row we decided to have a low key night at sushi. However, like all good intentions, they were completely shut down after the third bottle of wine…upon leaving the restaurant with hopes of going home, we realized that we were in the “Karaoke” neighborhood and the night quickly took a turn for the worse. (Did I tell you how much I love this city…seriously, what other city has a neighborhood known for its karaoke?). So of course, our mellow sushi dinner turned into a Karaoke marathon at Sing Sing Karoke on Avenue A… We walked into the almost empty bar (the only other patrons were Dr. Phil – not to be confused with the real one, this Dr. Phil was an aspiring singer who probably should keep practicing – and his not so successful voice coach) and owned the microphone for the rest of the night…although the “owning of the microphone” was less due to our singing abilities and more due to the fact that we were the only ones there. We called it a night only when our voices (and the tequila) gave out . But no worries, we had more music in our future…

Two nights later, after trying (unsuccessfully) to get tickets to the MTV Music Awards we traded in hopes of seeing A List celebrities and pop icons, and instead opted for Rubik Cube, New York’s own 80’s cover band on Saturday night. Like all 80’s cover bands playing in a venue with a fully stocked bar…these guys rocked! I can’t tell you what they played, but I knew all of the songs and felt inclined to sing along even when I didn’t know the words…And, at this live show, I was able to get up on stage and rock out with the band…I don’t think even Beyonce would have been as kind.

To wrap up the week of non-events, we skipped out on Fashion Week to do some serious shopping on Sunday…this is of course after shaking off the hangover from 80’s night. And really shopping is the end result of fashion week, so it was almost like we were there (although, instead of buying clothes, we bought books, jewelry and a lamp…yes, a lamp).

Seven years out of college and seven solid days partying it up in New York…yup, we still got it…at least that is what we thought, various other New Yorkers might disagree.

Avenue Q in New York

After two solid days of sightseeing with Martin in New York (did I mention I was in New York for two weeks and Martin came over to celebrate my birthday weekend?), we finally slowed down for a romantic dinner at Kittichai followed by a trip to Avenue Q…to avoid confusion, Avenue Q is not an actual street in Manhattan, but rather a musical on Broadway.

Avenue Q, the musical, is the adult version of Sesame Street, including songs, dances and puppets all there to teach you relevant life lessons. But while Sesame Street teaches youngsters basic skills such as words, spelling and math, Avenue Q teaches twenty and thirty somethings the harsh realities of life. Songs include: “What do you do with a BA in English”, “The Internet is for Porn”, “When You Love Someone (You want to kill them)”, and “I want to go back to college.” After hearing about the show from several friends and our failed attempts to see it earlier in both London and NY, Martin got us tickets for my birthday. Needless to say, I was very fired up!

Within the first song “I Hate My Life”, the show had satisfied all of my expectations. The dialogue was witty, relevant and a perfect portrayal of my generation. And when “Gary Coleman” motor-boated a slutty puppet during one of the many numbers, I was completely sold! If you grew up with Sesame Street and find humor in vulgarity…go see this show! I plan on seeing it again when it comes to San Francisco.

After the show on Saturday, the rest of the weekend with Martin flashed by (we really only did have three nights together) and he left that Monday… but no worries, Joanna was coming in for a solid week of NYC and Erin had an entire week off from work…Can you say trouble?

A Re-Release Party in Vegas

What happens in Vegas, doesn’t always stay in Vegas… marriages and pregnancies to name a few. And a trip to Las Vegas just might “win” you a trip to the Emergency Room. It did for me at least. But not to ruin the story, let’s start at the beginning.

Four years ago, my closest friends and I all met up in Vegas to celebrate our best friend Erin’s upcoming wedding… Unfortunately, the weekend in Vegas was one of the few good things about the engagement…Her marriage, all nine months of it, was a rocky one. And the 2 and half years it took to finalize the divorce, excuse me, annulment, was even worse. So to properly celebrate the end of her own after school special (and I like to think celebrate the friendships that got her through it) this past weekend Erin hosted a girls only weekend in Vegas. It was officially her re-release party. 7 girls: Ange, Anj, Dana, Erin, Joanna, Neff and me, all coming from different places (both emotionally and physically) reconvened in the city of sin for a little over 48 hours.

Stuffed parrot? Check. Eye-patches? Check. Drinking shoes? Check. Dignity and self control? Negative….did I mention that it was a pirate themed weekend?

My journey began at the San Francisco Airport with a $2 bill (I didn’t believe these actually existed, but accepted it as change anyways since it would make for a great story…Dana later informed me that it was in fact legal tender), a few Coors Lights and a greasy cheeseburger that stayed with me (more or less) for the rest of the weekend…f-ing cheeseburger. The flight into Vegas was as shaky as the now dissolved marriage and I was grateful to land in one piece. Thankfully, the massive suite Erin had rented (we had two bathrooms) and whirlpool full of ice, beer and champagne eased my nerves and set the tone for the rest of our “classy” weekend (or at least classier than past trips). As standard for this group of girls, we sat around the hotel room table, drinking beer and chatting it up, while waiting for everyone to arrive…all 4 hours. Yup, we were in Vegas, and the only place we wanted to be was with each other, around a table. As a note: this is normal for all of our vacations…each other’s houses, Europe, Mexico, anywhere. Give us a table, some beer or cheap champagne and we will have a great time (I dare you to call us high maintenance)

After Anj arrived, we finally pried ourselves away from the hotel and made our way to Tao’s Nightclub where we were on the guest list… which is actually pretty standard if you are a decent looking group of girls with little self control. And like all large groups of girls in Vegas, we volunteered our two single ladies to find us a group of guys with table service. Joanna, throughout the course of the night, found two such tables, both willing to give us free drinks, shots and use of their shoes…at least Joanna had use of their shoes (After repeatedly getting asked by the bouncer to put her shoes back on, one of the guys finally offered up his pair) We held strong for a while, but like the old farts we are…we were all in bed by 2am, a true disgrace to Vegas and all things it stands for.

The next day we were woken up with a phone call confirming our cabana reservation. Forgetting about the rudeness of calling anyone before 12pm in Vegas and unwilling to let a good cabana go to waste, we managed to drag ourselves out of bed and get to the pool. We spent the rest of the day at the pool, lounging in our cabana, drinking our buckets of beer and living the fabulous life we lead. To make the weekend absolutely perfect, the DJ made the following announcement …”This just in, Erin from New York’s divorce is now final”…and of course, it being Vegas, the entire pool cheered!

After the full day at the pool we had less than 2 hours to pull ourselves together for a nice dinner at Olives in the Bellagio. Apparently, we did a decent enough job…the manager of The Bank, one of Bellagio’s nightclubs, came over to our table halfway through dinner to personally invite us to his club for the night. We agreed, but only after Joanna requested a personal invite from the manager’s boss. Our perfect dinner (great friends, conversations, food and wine) wrapped up shortly after and we made our way to the club only to find we were a little too early…the club didn’t open up until 10:30. Not to lose us to another club or casino, the manager took us to the closest bar for free shots and then brought us back to the club once it was open. We were let right in, given a glass of champagne…and escorted right back out. We may or may not have been kicked out before 12am.

Just slightly before our bedtime, we headed over to another bar for one last drink and to try and salvage the rest of the evening (aka sober up enough to get into another club). One drink in and we all knew the night was over…Neff passed out at the table…And I am not referring to “passing out”…the act of falling asleep while still trying to maintain composure… I am talking about “passed the f out”…she was perfect model for our photos. We cut our losses and headed home in time for curfew…in bed again by 2am.

Sunday morning was spent like all Sunday mornings in Vegas: hung-over, broke and confused. It took us our entire brunch to piece the night back together and laugh at all of the stories. And while I thought I felt considerably better than most mornings in Vegas, by the time we got to the airport, the shakes and sweats had arrived and even the two vodka sodas I drank couldn’t get me functioning again… I arrived in Vegas looking cute and excited for weekend. I spent my last few hours in Vegas stinky, sweaty, hunched over my cheese pizza trying to not throw up. Man, I love that city!

Needless to say, whether it was the cheeseburger on the way in, pizza on the way out or one of the many drinks in between, when the severe chest pains on Monday morning didn’t go away, but rather, got worse, I thought I was having a heart attack…okay, maybe not a heart attack, but at least something worth getting checked out…hence the trip to the emergency room. Thankfully nothing was wrong, and the doctor chalked up the pains to a chest spasm or pulled muscle. My parents chalked it up to the excessive drinking, pole dancing and/or puking.

Bonding with My Brother

One of the greatest things about this 5 month sabbatical is, no surprise, all of the time off. And coincidentally, my days off now coincide with my brother’s normal days off of Tuesday and Wednesday. As a result, I have been taking this time to hang out with my brother Cody. We have spent the past few months hanging out, going to the movies (The Hangover and Inglorious Bastards…both amazing and worth checking out, assuming you like guy movies and Tarentino films, respectfully), enjoying a few beers and dim sum on random Tuesday mornings. I even had the chance to watch my brother and dad play in their summer softball league (they came in third place in the championships, which considering the amount of alcohol consumed during the playoffs by the team players and the lack of motivation to win, since it meant having to play again, was no small feat).

But the highlight of my time with Cody so far has been dinner with him and his guy friends. Every week, my brother makes a gourmet dinner for his close guy friends… Scott M. brings wine to perfectly compliment the meal and Scott C typically brings dessert. I consider these meals, and in reality all meals cooked by Cody, as sacred so I was super stoked to be invited for last week’s affair.

I showed up wearing my largest pair of pants (I didn’t want fashion to get in the way of good food) and was ready to hang out with the boys. And while I am not sure if it was the presence of a girl or the desire to get drunk, but it all of sudden seemed like a good idea to play chandeliers before dinner. Thankfully this was not my first rodeo, so I was able to maintain some composure after the game and actually enjoy the three courses Cody cooked…I wish I could say the same about some of Cody’s friends. (I might be older, more mature and a girl, but I can still play a drinking game or two.)

Dinner consisted of a cold gazpacho soup with cucumbers, grilled halibut over a white bean salad topped with a jalapeno sauce and basil and prosciutto stuffed chicken breast served with zucchini and a parmesan cheese cream sauce. Everything was to die for! Not to be out done, Scott C had brought over Mint Chip Its Its for dessert (for those not familiar with Its Its, they are an ice cream sandwich comprised of cookie, ice cream then cookie, dipped in chocolate to hold it all together…I would sell my first child for one on a hot evening).

After dinner and too many glasses of wine, I had to once again call my dad for a sober ride home (I had to call him the previous night after hanging out with the girls in SF…you know, living at home does have some perks). He picked me up around 11 and I spent the car ride home eating my Its Its like it was my last meal on earth, reeking of alcohol, and constantly repeating just how amazing Cody’s dinner was, especially the parmesan cream sauce. I hope I didn’t ruin my chances at getting invited again.

Tour de California with Martin and Betsy (the Rental Car)

Martin and I just ended our 15 day Tour de California which took us fly fishing in Dunsmuir, hitting up the highlights of San Francisco, being beach bums in San Luis Obispo, camping at Lake Pilsbury and relaxing in Tahoe….and of course, no tour of California is complete without a trip to my home town of Lafayette. Like all good things, the trip went by too quickly, but we did manage to squeeze in a few good stories and master our ability to take photos of ourselves using the extended arm technique.

Betsy, our Ford Focus rental car, got us everywhere…a mere 1,905 miles when it was all said and done. She was a trooper for most of the trek, being ever reliable and gas friendly. However, I thought we were going to have to put her down after the dirt road in and out of Lake Pilsbury when the tires (or possibly the breaks) started squealing so loudly that our arrival was heard blocks before we came into sight. And, as if she wasn’t hurting badly enough already, she was rudely rear-ended on the last day of the journey (we were sitting outside my brothers restaurant and were able to watch the poor girl behind us put her car into drive rather than reverse). Yes, Betsy gave her all to us, and for that we thank her.

The stories below are from the travels, posted, as always, chronologically.

The Brutality of Memory Lane

Lafayette, California is a small suburb town east of San Francisco where I grew up. My parents still live in the house I was brought home to from the hospital, and I still have the same bedroom since I was a child. This place and I have history; some good, some bad and some ugly. So no trip of California would be complete without a stop over here for at least one night.

We arrived to an empty house (the parents were out socializing) and, with a few hours to kill before dinner, I thought it would be fun and only right to share some of my childhood photos with Martin. He, it should be noted, was more than willing to indulge my curiosity when I went to his house in Germany…Unfortunately, my trek down memory lane (via the scrapbooks so carefully and lovingly put together by my mom) turned into a bitter spiral of disappointment including lost potential and ambition (voted most likely to be a millionaire and president, with goals of becoming the first female astronaut on mars and/or the moon), lost athleticism (highlighted by the yearly team photos of swim team, softball, soccer, gymnastics, etc) and a reminder of my not-so-cute years (approximately 4-19 years of age). The photos alone (me with bad teeth, bad clothes, big hair and bigger eyebrows) prompted involuntary cringes equal to an 8 minute abs work out. I eventually had to skip over the book that covered my life from 12-15 years old for fear of pulling a muscle. I am hoping that, like fine wine and stinky cheese, I am only getting better with age.

Thankfully, Martin is a gentleman, and polite enough to not kick someone while they are down. He only slightly giggled at the worst photos and has not brought it up again since his departure. Note to self: preview all photos and scrap books before sharing. It took an afternoon walking around town, dinner with the parents and a walk around the reservoir the following morning to bring me out of my funk. Martin was leaving on Saturday and we only had one night left together…there was no time for sulking.

Lake Tahoe

With two full days to enjoy at Lake Tahoe, and Ange and Scott at work, Martin and I each got to choose a day’s worth of activities. It only seemed fair.

We started my day off with breakfast at the Squeeze Inn followed by the hike down to Vikingsholm in Emerald Bay. Unfortunately I had only been there before via boat and, without access to the island, I found the bay less than I had remembered. Not to be completely disappointed, the walk down to the lake and back up the valley was refreshing and a great way to wake up. After completing the “exercise” portion of the day, we drove to Chambers Beach for the famous Chambers Punch and to lie in the sun and swim. With the sky cloudless and water warmer than I remember, the afternoon was perfect… both before and after getting kick off the private beach…in my defense, there is a public beach, we just got confused as to where it was in relationship to the bar. We left the beach, laughing like delinquent high schoolers and headed back to the house. Lying on the deck, we welcomed Scott and Ange home from work with beers and set off for dinner at Cottonwood Restaurant to enjoy the warm summer evening and sites over looking Truckee.

For Martin’s day, we began with breakfast burritos at the house and an attempt at floating down the Truckee River. Unfortunately the companies that float the river had closed the previous day for the season, so Martin opted for a hike along the Tahoe Ridge Trail instead, which also happens to be part of the Pacific Crest Trail (a big sarcastic thank you to Scott for suggesting the hike… we could have spent another beautiful day on the beach). But in all seriousness, I was sort of looking forward to some more serious exercise…and I actually got excited once we reached the top of the ridge and got a complete view of Lake Tahoe below. However, sensing that the views wouldn’t get any better and the hike could potentially go on for at least another hour, I may or may not have accidentally on purpose slipped and fell to end the hike early. Thankfully Martin was not the slightest bit disappointed; he was also ready to spend the rest of the day relaxing on the beach.

That evening, Martin and I packed up a gourmet picnic spread (including veggies and dip, cheese, salami, crackers, brie, grapes, a baguette and, of course, wine and beer)…the four of us were heading to the Wednesday night Concert in the Park that Truckee puts on every week in the summer. The band was great, playing all of the classic songs we grew up with…“we“, meaning Ange, Scott and myself; poor Martin didn’t recognize a single song, but I suppose I would have been more surprised if he had. And in reality you don’t really need to know the song in order to enjoy it, or dare I say, dance to it. Truly, a perfect evening and a great way to end our visit in Tahoe.

We said good bye to Ange and Scott and made our way back to Lafayette for one night with the parents.

Lake Worthy

Lake Pilsbury is my favorite place in the whole world (for those who might think I am exaggerating, I suggest reading “My Happy Place – Lake Pilsbury”, posted on August 2nd). And, like all things sacred, it is shared only with those deemed worthy. This rule includes friends, family and especially boyfriends. I have a strict screening process to determine who can and should be invited (among them include my best friends from college who also apply the screening process to their potential boyfriends). And if I deem a boy to NOT be lake worthy, well, there really isn’t a need to take things farther; the relationship is over. But “Lake Worthy” is not just up to me; my extended family and friends up there also have a huge impact …In light of all this, I thought Martin was ready and we made the trek up to Lake Pilsbury for two nights.

As for me, I think Martin nailed it…he was willing and ready for everything: tequila shots with the dads, getting behind the boat for the first time to try (and succeed at) wakeboarding, wakesurfing and single waterskiing, the serious spread of appetizers and cocktails during happy hour and he was not concerned when dinner was presented well after dark. He handled everything. But more importantly than anything else, he understood my love for the lake and the people up there.

Our two days and nights with the family and friends were absolutely perfect, if only flawed that they would be my last before summer ended. Like always, the two nights went by too quickly and we were again saying good bye to the parents and back on the road.

Next stop Lake Tahoe to spend some time with one of my favorite married couples, Ange and Scott. But not before passing through the delightful towns of Nice, Lucerne (the self proclaimed Switzerland of America) Glenhaven and Timbuktu. And here all this time Martin thought we would only be touring California. For those who don’t believe me, take a drive across California on Highway 20 and you too can enjoy what the world (and/or Clear Lake) offers.

Hopland, California

The drive from San Luis Obispo to Lake Pilsbury on a good day is about 6 hours. The drive on a Friday afternoon, through traffic in Silicon Valley, San Francisco and Santa Rosa is a bit more painful. So after 6 hours into our drive and still at least 2 hours left to go, Martin and I decided to pull off the road and stay the night in the wine country before finishing the drive. Without a reservation anywhere and it being a weekend, we finally found vacancy at The Hopland Inn in, you guessed it, Hopland.

As a quick digression, one of the stories I remember most from my childhood and the drive up to Lake Pilsbury involved a fire at the Hopland Inn. As the story goes, on our way up to the Lake, my dad made his usual pit stop at the Hopland Brewery for one drink while we waited in the car. Upon leaving the bar he noticed that a fire had started on the roof of the hotel, located just across the street. Based on natural instincts, he went across the street, told the receptionist that the hotel was on fire and to call 911, and subsequently went upstairs to the roof to put out the fire himself. And whether it was my active imagination, my dad’s exaggeration or actual truth, I vaguely remember my dad mentioning he had peed on the fire to put it out (with enough beers from the brewery, this might actually be possible).

With this type of history, I was, needless to say, actually kind of excited to be staying in the hotel that had held my interest for so many years. And based on our one night there, I would stay in Hopland again! It was such a cute old hotel, with a long, oak wood bar and a fully restored library where Martin and I were able to enjoy one last glass of wine before heading to bed.

We awoke refreshed and ready for the final portion of the drive to the Lake. But not before breakfast at the Bluebird Café, with complimentary cinnamon buns, and a quick wine tasting. Even with the leisurely morning we were still on the road by 10:30am.

San Luis Obispo, a New Perspective!

I have always considered San Luis Obispo (or SLO for the sake of the blog) as my second home. Practically my entire family went to Cal Poly, the college in SLO, including myself, and my aunt, uncle and cousin still live down there. It is where I spent the greater part of 5 years and I loved every minute of it. Plus, no trip to CA is complete without a stop at the beach and I find the beaches of Avila, coupled with the charm of SLO so much more appealing than their close neighbor, Santa Barbara. The two days with Martin however, showed me a new side of SLO, which seemed more mature adult and less college boozehound. I loved it!

I decided to book us a room at the Garden Street Inn based on recommendations from my parents and its location exactly downtown. Plus, I had always been charmed by the late 19th century building, and so I was delightfully surprised at all of the additional details the inn had to offer: a full breakfast each morning, cookies awaiting our return each day and a wine and cheese happy hour from 5-6:30 every night. Anyone travelling to SLO and in the mood for something local and quaint, should stay here!

After the complimentary wine and cheese at the Inn, we took a walk around town while trying to decide where to eat…Buona Tavola for some Italian or Big Sky? We opted for Big Sky, one of my favorite restaurants in town and a typical California cuisine experience. With no cares in the world and no big pressure to see or do anything in particular, Martin and I headed to bed early, but not before a glass of wine on our own private deck.

The next morning we awoke fully refreshed and ready for a day at the beach. But first we had a few errands to run. First stop – the Black Horse at Uptown, for Martin to get his morning cappuccino (while we were served a full breakfast of waffles, eggs, bacon and coffee and juice, cappuccinos were not on the Garden Street Inn menu). Second Stop – a place with internet...I had one bill to pay online, so from coffee, we walked to the library (not to be confused with The Library, the bar…I made that mistake when initially asking the receptionist where we could find internet. Imagine…Her: “The Library has internet” Me: “The bar?!”… Yes, it was my immediate thought, resulting in a slightly awkward moment). It was my first time in any library in SLO (including both the county and college campus libraries) but we managed okay. Third and Final Stop – Gus’s Market for the best deli sandwiches to take to the beach.

The rest of the day was spent lounging at Avila Beach, swimming in the water, enjoying the sun, trying to figure out the kid to adult ratio (it seemed to be 30 to 1) and getting the most ridiculous burn lines I have ever seen, and this is coming from a red-haired, freckled Irish/Scottish descendent…a portion of my calves were burned where I rubbed off the sand along with the sunscreen and Martin managed to get what looked like a white Capital G on his right boob. My legs were so fried that I was forced to buy and wear a muumuu the following day to avoid additional exposure. Thankfully, it would have taken a lot more than a sun burn to ruin our day.

After fully cooking in the sun, Martin and I headed home quickly to shower before dinner with my aunt, uncle and cousin. We were going to a great new restaurant in Santa Marguerita called the Range and we had to get there early. The food, wine and company were all perfectly paired. Most of the dishes were based on locally raised meat and locally grown produce and everything was cooked to perfection…my lamb was the perfect shade of pink in the middle…it matched my face and legs exactly.

After the filling dinner (thankfully my cousin Livi was there to finish both desserts for us) we headed back into SLO for the final hours of the famous Thursday Night Farmers Market, one of my favorite things about the area and main reason for the dates of our visit We wandered through the stalls, smelling the fresh cut flowers, tasting the ripened fruits and wishing we weren’t so full so we could enjoy one of the many BBQs offered by the local restaurants. A quick beer at Frog and Peach helped us to end the night and we were once again in bed earlier than normal.

The next day we were faced with our biggest decision of the trip to date…where to have our final lunch before leaving. No trip to SLO is complete without the required lunch at both Franks Famous Hot Dogs and Firestone Grill. But not willing to slip back into my old ways and just have both, we settled on Firestones for the tri-tip sandwich and perfectly seasoned french fries. Yes, I chose Firestones over family, but I had my reasons…I guess we will just have to come back another time for the cheese dog at Franks. We left town completely full (thankfully the muumuu helped to hide the small cow I had just eaten) and we were on our way to Lake Pilsbury via San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge.

A Local’s Tour of San Francisco

Thankfully Martin had been to San Francisco 12 years prior and therefore had already “ticked the box” on most of the touristy locations. And because of this, we were able to dedicate our time to a more local’s tour of the city; at least that was the plan.

We arrived at our hotel in Union Square (yes, slightly touristy, but at least centrally located) late on Sunday night, excited to be in “my” city and were welcomed by the rudest concierge possible (unfortunately that was not the end of bad service at the Westin, but no need to gripe about it, the rudeness was thankfully limited to hotel staff only, everyone else we met was completely friendly). But still, we were off to a rocky start…with it being so late and no idea what was still open, I opted for the closest restaurant, the Cheesecake Factory, and introduced Martin to “American sized portions”…our two salads could have feed a small village in Serbia.


Monday was spent walking around the city and checking out the various neighborhoods of San Francisco. We spent the morning wandering through the streets of Chinatown searching for the best dim sum restaurant we could find (which can be identified via finding the shadiest looking restaurant). We went for one on Broadway which was full of local patrons and the standard push cart fare. Dim sum is not always for everyone (the chicken feet can be a bit overwhelming) however Martin surprisingly tried (and enjoyed) most things I selected…although a double espresso shot in North Beach was required to get us out of the MSG OD coma. And if the coffee didn’t do the trick, the brisk walk up to Coit Tower revitalized us with the great views. We paused long enough to take a few photos and a hot lap inside the building.

Not willing to wait in the long line for the elevator to the top, we left the monument and made our way down the Greenwich street stairs, talking to the parrots along the way, then took the Embarcadero all the way to the Ferry Building for a look at the local organic produce. To end the full day of sight-seeing, I took Martin to his first Major League Baseball game, the Giants vs. the Dodgers. And while we lost, and half of the game was spent watching the various fights in the bleachers, I think Martin was able to grasp the concept of not only the game but also the rivalry of Nor Cal vs. So Cal…the rest of our time in SF, he would occasionally blurt out “Duck the Fodgers”

After the ultimate in all things touristy, our second day was spent wandering around my old neighborhood, Cow Hollow/Marina. We began with breakfast on Union Street at a new café, chosen since it was the only one open… apparently Tuesday mornings aren’t as popular for brunch as Sundays. Brunch was followed by a stop at the Palace of Fine Arts (newly restored and reopened), a stroll along the marina through Fort Mason (my favorite place on a sunny afternoon) and a break at Aquatic Park to watch the swimmers and sea lions enjoying the warm day.

Like clockwork, we stopped for coffee that afternoon… however I may or may not have chosen the Buena Vista so at least the coffee could be spiked. After two Irish Coffees and a great conversation with a true SF native, we completed our walk back to the hotel through Russian Hill, just in time to get changed, and take a cab back to the marina for two dollar drinks at City Tavern (the place where, on any given Tuesday, you could find me).

So, while I was attempting to show Martin a relaxed, non-touristy version of San Francisco, looking back at what we did, I failed miserably! We did everything touristy!!! The only thing I may have missed from the traveler’s guides would be Bush Man between Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 (and the only reason why we didn’t go was because Martin had already been). Unfortunately, with all of the sightseeing, I missed the main goal; a locals take on the city: the Bus Stop, great restaurants, Beach Blanket Babylon, and more. Good thing there will plenty of time to show him around local style on his next trip out…but for now, we were heading to San Luis Obispo, home of my Alma matter.

The Smith Family Reunion… Martin, Welcome to California!

Okay, so it was technically my grandparents 60th wedding anniversary, but seeing how my mom’s entire side of the family was there to celebrate, it did take on the qualities of a standard family reunion…a weekend away with the entire family, the uncomfortable conversations with the grandparents about how much more you should be doing with your life and the excessive drinking required to forgot those conversations and reconnect with the family…. Did I mention Martin landed on Friday and, after not seeing him for 6 weeks and a 15 hour flight, he experienced the full family assault of 2 grandparents, 2 uncles, 2 aunts, 2 cousins (both with fiances) my parents, brother, sister and brother-in-law. In my defense, I gave Martin full disclosure of the weekend before he bought his flight, so in my eyes, he is either a glutton for pain or he really loves me.

Feeling slightly guilty for the two day attack, I was able to dodge the mid-Saturday activities and take Martin to the Sacramento River for some swimming and fishing…jumping at the opportunity for an afternoon sans family, my sister, Ray and Dad all decided to offer their assistance in teaching Martin how to fly fish. The afternoon was a serious flashback to my childhood: sitting on the rocks at Wilburs, eating deli sandwiches, floating down the river on inner tubes, warming up in the “hot tub” (actually just Castle Creek built up to create a nice swimming hole) and shading ourselves from the sun with our “river hats” (made using elephant ear leaves). Martin’s first attempt at fishing was to be expected given the time of day and location… in short, uneventful.

On a mission to catch a fish before the day was over, my dad, grandpa and Martin all went out fishing that evening before dinner. And in an effort to eat dinner before 10pm, I was put in charge of BBQ-ing the tri-tip for 17 people while they were gone. Brilliant idea. Thankfully the guys returned before I could do too much damage to the meat, and they brought good news with them…this time Martin had caught a fish!, although the size of it might have been closer to a guppy, but there is no need to split hairs. To celebrate the anniversary, the new engagements (both cousins) and to make Martin feel more comfortable (that one might have been solely motivated by both me and my father), the night continued on with champagne, wine, beer, tequila and grappa… way too much grappa… a whole bottle of grappa to be exact, split between Martin, my dad, my brother and me. Martin was officially welcomed into the family.

Slightly groggy from the big night before, we still managed to wake up in time for breakfast with the family and one last shot at Martin catching a fish. Thankfully, the cold water of the river and a Burger Barn burger pulled me to my senses and I was able to properly congratulate Martin on his three fish caught. We left Dunsmuir feeling successful and happy, Martin had not only caught a fish, but we had survived the most stressful part of the holiday…We were off to San Francisco for some sight-seeing and time alone.

My Happy Place – Lake Pilsbury

After spending the past two summers attending weddings and exploring my new digs (Switzerland, that is), I gave up the traditional summer of traveling around Europe in order to spend a few glorious weeks at one of my favorite places in the world, Lake Pilsbury. By way of definition, Lake Pilsbury is a small lake near Mendocino, accessible only by dirt road, and the summer destination for those lucky few to have a cabin on the lake or has a friend who has a cabin on the lake.

But for those who truly know Pilsbury, the Lake is so much more. For me it was where I spent every summer growing up, getting picked up by the parents on the last day of school with the car packed and boat trailer hooked up. It is where I had my first summer romance “thing” which ended with an infamous jet ski ride…I should have known things weren’t going to work out between the two of us, I was a boat girl, he was a jet ski guy. It is where I first learned to drive a car and a boat and where I had my first taste of tequila (Jose Cuervo to be exact) thanks to our neighbor Frank and his “teenage margaritas”. It is truly great place to grow up. The Lake for me is a large, every growing extended family, and I mean that both figuratively and literally (my sister married the son of another cabin owner, who’s own sister is married to our next door neighbor, whose mother in law, well, you get the picture).

After the quick drive up from the Bay Area, it took all of 6 hours after arriving to completely rid myself of all responsibilities, thoughts of work or the real life and get back into the Lake mentality. My days were spent waking up early for the perfect water for the perfect ski, followed by late breakfasts (heuvos rancheros on Sundays), afternoons on the boat either wake surfing, tubing, or when things got really bad, double skiing, appetizers and drinks starting around 4pm, an evening ski with the necessary pit stop at the friends cabin across the lake for some beer and gossip, and of course ending with dinner well after dark and inappropriate jokes that only come about with close friends and too much liquor.

The bliss of vacation could only be slightly dampened by me getting stung by a yellow jacket just before my college friends arrived. Apparently I hadn’t over exaggerated the pain of getting bitten as a child…it still hurt like a mother! And to make things worse I forewent immediate attention (i.e. baking soda and/or onion) in order to still make the morning ski resulting in the worst swelling I have ever experienced. It got to the point where I couldn’t close my hand and, to ensure the swelling didn’t continue to my heart, I marked my arm where the swelling ended so I would know if and when I should go to the hospital. Thankfully, the swelling subsided and I was back to normal in no time.

Two weeks into the holiday and it seemed like I had never moved away; everything was just as it should be. The holiday flew by too quickly and I look forward to going back. The holiday ended just as it should have, with an evening ski, shot of Hornitos tequila and dinner well after dark.

It is good to know that after 28 years, the only that has really changed up at the Lake is the quality of tequila.

A Warm Welcome Home

After a 15 hour flight and the trama of leaving Martin behind (at least for the time being), I arrived safely back in San Francisco, and much to my surprise, I had the welcoming committee there to remind me how much I love being home.

I am off to Lake Pilsbury for the next three weeks for some rest and relaxation (sans computer, cell phone or electricity).

And for those who might be concerned about the future of this blog (clearly, I no longer live in Switzerland) I plan to continue to post fun stories about all of my adventures, both in CA, back in Europe, or where ever this life takes me.

Not a good-bye, but rather a "see you in a few"

With my rotation at an end, and my reflections per day at an all time high, I thought the easiest way to come to terms with the move was with a list, just as it began. Here are just a few things I will miss about Zurich (and will look forward to when I come back to visit in September)

• Sushi at Yoojis with Shannon, Anna and James (our favorite waiter)
• Emergency martinis after (and sometimes during) work with Kim
• Son of Coco shows with the entire crew
• Sunday brunch at Iroquois followed by a day at the lake
• Spending a week trying to coordinate a lunch or dinner date with a friend three weeks out (okay, I probably won’t miss that one, I am actually looking forward to making spontaneous plans and still seeing everyone).
• Seeing the local kids walk themselves to school at age 4 wearing the triangle reflects over their shoulders and 80 year olds hiking up and down the mountain faster and with more grace than I could ever muster
• The always on-time, always clean public transportation
• Khao Soi noodles at Tiffins
• Street Parade, Orange Cinema and all of the other great summer festivals
• 5 weeks of vacation, over 12 days of national holidays and endless sick leave

Unfortunately a list just can not even began to do justice to summarize these past two years, and so I won’t even try. Have a great summer Zurich, I will see you soon! And for those in the US, I will see you even sooner.

Lisapolooza – The Swiss Edition

What a difference two years makes! Looking back at the SF version of Lisapolooza two years ago, I can say a lot has changed, but some things remain the same. The decision to leave Switzerland, like all of my major life’s decisions, was a defining moment, and one I knew was right. But at the same time, it is definitely bitter sweet. I have made so many great friends in Zurich, who, without them, this experience would not have been the same. So in order to celebrate those friendships, rather than me leaving, I had another week long celebration of dinners, drinks and parties…although this time around, things were a bit more mellow.

The week began with dinner at Madrid, the restaurant, with Team A6 (the Blocks, Marks and Gimbel/Breuers), and the eating binge continued with lunches with various friends and one last sushi night at Yooiis with Shannon and Anna (including the required bottle of wine each and our favorite waiter James).

The weekend quickly arrived and I was ready for the final blow out. While I would have loved to celebrate the end of an era with Son of Coco (my Swiss version of Tainted Love), Martin and I instead hosted a BBQ at our place including bratwurst, German potato salad (Oma’s recipe), beer, babies and babysitters. To round things out, and remind ourselves that we were still young, we ended the night with dancing at Nelsons, my favorite “dive” bar (quotation marks necessary as even the most seediest bar in Zurich couldn’t compare to a standard dive bar in SF).

The following evening, Helen had us up for Sunday dinner, including prosecco on the roof terrace and home made pizza Standing up on the balcony, enjoying the evening warmth, it was crazy to believe that it was less than two years ago that I was having a similar dinner with Helen and the previous tenants.

And finally, my last night in town was spent with Martin, learning to cook Wienerschnietzel, drinking champagne, reflecting on the past two years and looking forward to the many years to come.

7 Countries in 10 days

This past Monday I returned home from a 10 day Baltic cruise, which took me from Copenhagen to Stockholm, Helsinki, St. Petersburg, Tallin, Gdansk, and Oslo. We, the Marks, Jason and I, chose to see the Baltics via a cruise as it gave us the ability to see so many cities in so many different countries in such a short period of time. Being a first time cruiser, I had no idea what to expect.

In summary, the trip included 7 countries with 7 different types of currencies, 4 course dinners, karaoke, trivia nights, stunning views, immense history, all you can eat food binges during the day, spa treatments and a full gym to counter-act the all you can eat food binges, an average age of 55, owning the dance floor on the ship and dancing like such idiots that the other 2 customers actually left the bar thanks to our mad skills, Bizzaro Jason (the alter ego of our friend who, on land is a presidential hopeful, but on the seas was a booze hound, party animal) and, oh yes, some tours of the cities we visited.

After such excess in a mere 10 days, something was bound to give. Unfortunately, it was the button on my pants. I might have hit a new low, but the decent was well worth it.

The following are the stories from each town visited. I have posted them on the day we were in port, so I would suggest starting at the bottom with Stockholm and working your way to the top. Enjoy…because I sure did.

Editors Note: To avoid any confusion (and trust me there was plenty on the cruise) Jason is just a good friend and Martin is definitely still in the picture.