Adventures in Switzerland

Kloten

Yesterday, we decided to get out of town and go see the EHC (Basel ice hockey team) game, while they were playing out in a town near Zurich. The town that the airport is in. Kloten.

Ehm. "Kloten" is one of those words that doesn't seem to mean anything here,  but certainly does have a meaning in Dutch. To understand the high-school giggle level involved here, imagine sitting in a stadium full of people shouting "BOLLOCKS" like it's a good thing.

Basel lost. Kloten.

Tres magnifique

We spent the time between Christmas and New Years exploring the French-speaking area of Switzerland and surrounding France, an area we hadn't ventured into yet. Not that Marco didn't want to. It was me. I'll admit it. See, we live in the German-speaking area of Switzerland but I am surrounded by French colleagues. It isn't that I don't like my colleagues, but I don't speak French and hearing it all day drives me batty. "So learn French", you say. I would, but to understand the outside world I need to learn German, and two languages at once is just too much for my little brain.

After the past few days, I may, reluctantly, have to admit that Paris is not France and that there are some Francophone areas in Europe that have friendly people and beautiful areas.

Lausanne turned out to be not the stuffy old city I had imagined, but a beautiful city with a good-sized student population to keep it lively.

Geneva was not the city of office space I had imagined, but was a stately place with a presence of its own.

Montreaux was spectacular, with its views of the lake and the snow on the mountains behind it.

And the view from the Mont Blanc was, dare I say, magnifique.

I even started to get used to hearing French all day. Live and learn.

My apologies

to everyone that I didn't send a Christmas card to this year. Which would be, well, everyone.

See, somehow Christmas snuck up on me this year. While in previous years I insisted upon buying the tree the minute December rolled in, this year we got the tree up last weekend. Which, I must say, is beneficial to the tree at Christmas. By now it's usually a "look but don't touch or it will fall apart" tree. But this year, we have a nice, green fresh tree. We've also (somewhat) minimized Christmas decoration, I've not kept up with the Advent calendar, and I'm even deviating from my traditional Christmas ham.

Then there's the Christmas cards. I've always been bad at Christmas cards, but usually manage to at least send them before Christmas, even if I knew most of them wouldn't arrive until after the actual date. This year, even though I bought the cards and occasionally thought "I should write these", suddenly it's Christmas Eve and I still havn't. What can I say. Better luck next year.

What I am doing though is that this year I'm finally trying to make my granny's nut rolls. See, my granny was a master of nut rolls in the same way that she was a master gardener. She could throw a stick toward the earth and it would grow into indestructable vegitation. In the last few years that she was able to live on her own, she couldn't lift the heavy plants to take indoors for the winter and left them out to perish in the frosty snow of Pennsylvania winter. The next fall she faced the same problem, she complained, since they were bigger and in full bloom the next year and she just "couldn't kill the buggers". But I digress.

Nut rolls. An Eastern European Christmas tradition. The smell as you walked through her front door and the "te-tong" of the bells attached to her door greeted you. They were her contribution to the great Baked Goods Trade-Off that took place on the Hungarian side of the family every Christmas, which between all the aunts in various kitchens had us eating sticky buns, nut rolls, and other baked goods for weeks. Who am I kidding, they were so good that between my parents, siblings and myself eating them for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks we finished them in about two days flat.

I've had her recipe for a few years, but never got as far as trying it... maybe because I am a bit intimidated. See, I know I'm never going to be able to match granny's. And I'm nearly as fierce a critic on these as my mom, who refers to store-bought nut roll as "sawdust roll". As I've mentioned in previous posts, I'm working on it but am just not a very good cook. I'm afraid of turning out a sawdust roll.

But this year, I'm giving it a try. The dough got elasticy, it rose, the nut mix alone tastes good, and it's in the oven now. Or rather they, as Granny was cooking for the Hungarian Crowds with her US oven and therefore her recipe was more than my Swiss oven could handle in one shot. We'll see how it tastes.

I just may start to feel Christmasy yet.

Let it snow...

... or at least that is what we are all hoping. I had thought of maybe getting in a weekend of skiing before Christmas, or maybe just a day trip, the disconcerting news is that to get down a slope right now I would have to bring a 4x4. Or hike. See, even though it's December and the Alps should be getting all Alpine, there is no snow in Switzerland. Although the Swiss ski resorts are in denial and have opened anyway (they are even holding ski jumping competitions), it is actually not snowing but raining in the Alps.

November is always kind of an in-between month, too cold and dark for hiking and no snow for skiing. But now, it's December. Come on now. We got the snow tires for the car. We even bought snow chains. It's time to get back into the shuss of things.

Thanksgiving

is always a time for reflection. While it's been a crazy year, we do have a lot to give thanks for... but I'm not going to get into that now.

Right now I'm giving thanks for hanging out with my family, for the big turkey my sister-in-law made, for all the side dishses my sisters, mom and I put together (in my parent's apartment, no longer the house that I grew up in, which made cooking an adventure). After dinner, when we had all eaten too much and were laying on the couches and one of my sisters made a "family" joke that had us all laughing, my sister-in-law looked over and said

"Sometimes, doesn't it feel like you just never left?"

It made me so happy that she said that, because I had been thinking of all the moments like this that I miss. But her remark made me realize that I'll always be part of this, no matter how far away I live.

Happy Thanksgiving

Going home,

to my family for Thanksgiving. I miss them, and I’m glad to be going back. As I sat in the plane and the familiar ritual of returning to the US got underway, I watched the landscape change from land to hours of ocean, to the snow and desolation of northern Canada, then isolated houses and eventually small towns start to appear, and now, in Cincinnati, I’m nearly home.

Going through immigration at a smaller airport, like Cincinnati, the immigration officers are usually of a friendly sort. Seeing my residence is not the US, they often ask a few questions, not really out of duty but I imagine out of curiosity. Today, the official asked, “So how did you end up in Switzerland?”

It stopped me in my tracks. For a minute, I went blank. The series of events leading to our move went through my head and I thought, “This is just too complicated to explain.” Then I realized that the answer was disconcertingly simple: “There was a job...” He looked at me, and said, “Well, there you go.” That explains that.

When I lived in Holland, the whole thing was not so simple. I had a story. A long story, with twists and turns. “How did you end up there?” was a complicated question.

So there you go. Marco and I have jobs there, so we live in Switzerland. I hope that the story gets more complicated.

Returned:

-1 very nice black bag, bought on vacation with lots of sentimental value.

-2 wallets (1 euro, 1 Swiss franc, without either Euros or Swiss Francs)

-2 Visa cards (already cancelled, so useless)

-4 bank cards (already cancelled, also useless)

-1 mobile phone (now unblocked and working again, yay!)

-1 passport (saving me 2 trips to Bern, to apply and pick up the passport, and a lot of stress given I'm leaving for the US on Wednesday)

-1 Auslanderauschweis (I don't even want to think about how much hassle that saved me)

Missing, never to be heard from again:

-1 Swiss drivers license (inconvenient, but at least doesn't involve a trip to the embassy in Bern)

-Personal photographs that were in my wallet (a little disturbing)

-My Cumulus and Coop Superkart cards (just plain weird)

-An old bus card for Amsterdam public transport (?????????)

Moral of the story:

If you are going to have your bag stolen, do it in Zurich. The thief leaves you with all of you stuff that would have taken a lot of time and effort to replace, and takes pretty useless stuff. And then leaves the bag for someone to find who is kind enough to give it to the police.

Missing

-1 very nice black bag, bought on vacation with lots of sentimental value.

-2 wallets (1 euro, 1 Swiss franc)

-About CHF 60

-About EUR 5

-2 Visa cards

-4 bank cards

-1 drivers license

-1 mobile phone

-1 passport

-1 Auslanderauschweis

-1 Saturday night (lost to police station and canceling all cards)

-1 illusion, entitled: "There is no crime in Switzerland"

The times they are a' changin'

.... and we have now re-entered the Dark Ages.

Around this time of year, I am always slowly taken over by what starts out as a nagging at the back of my brain. Then turns to listlisness. Then to lethargy. Then to apathy. Then to hibernation.

This past weekend, like most of the world, Switzerland changed its clocks. A wonderful extra hour to sleep in to morning. A very, very bad price to pay: today the sun went down at 5:08 PM. It came up at 7:08. Winter in Europe is not like winter in the US. Even Switzerland, which is (very) central  Europe, has rediculously short days. Not as bad as Holland (and I don't even want to think about Scandanavia) but nope, no chance in hell of seeing the sun for us working folk in Europe till spring.

I think I may look for a nice little island around the equator. Or in South America, just till April or so.

I love Ticino

It's been quiet around here lately, because, well, I'm not sure what to say. Life's been ups and downs recently, with much lack of social life that would sould like whining.... and much as I would like to whine, in the end, it just depresses me. And let's look at this realistically.... life is not all bad. I live in Switzerland. It can be a little lonely, but it's beautiful and every once in a while I do have a conversation with a Swiss person. Really. Ok, very short conversations. Well, OK, not that often.

Moving on to happier topics:

Ticino. : There is a topic bound to make anyone happy. Last year at about this time we were in Ticino, too... the Italian part of Switzerland. Speaks Italian. Dresses Italian. Walks Italian. Eats Italian. Drinks Italian cappucini (due cappucine per favore). And is somehow Swiss. Lago Maggiore is beatiful when the sun sets. And being on the prominade on a Sunday afternoon in Locarno is so far removed from the dark, rainy season here in Basel that a weekend is enough to rejuvinate anybody.

Mountains: They are big. Don't forget that. When we were out hiking in Ticino, Marco and I got lost for the first time ever here in Switzerland. See, the country is covered in signs (the gelbe Schilten) that direct you along hiking paths from anywhere, to anywhere. And they are always so close together, it's impossible to get lost. So, we trust them. Blindly. But apparently, in Ticino, there are gelbe Schilte vandals.... so we ended up on top of a mountain, at dusk, in the drizzle, still needing to get back to the lift down to the civilized world before the last one left. And we were lost. Obviously, since I am here in Basel again, it all turned out OK, but for about an hour I got a hard lesson in: respect the mountain. It's big.

Skis: Picked up this season's rentals... for any new expats who might stuble upon this, the "season rental" thing is something I highly reccommend. It's pretty cheap, and especially if you are a beginner, you don't want to buy skis that you will "grow out of" within a season. And renting for a season means you don't have to wait in line for rentals every time you go. I highly reccomend Karrer, a shop with friendly and genuinely helpful people and really a lot of skis.

ciao