Snippets of a Weekend Adventure.

DESTINATION: Geneva
VIA: Vevey

I leave the safe comforts of the German region of Switzerland. I always travel after 7 (Gleis7 - ha! Take that Inspector Ticket!) and it is about 9pm I think when I switch trains at Bern. It is my first time out of German speaking Europe and all of a sudden I am completely out of my comfort zone. I had a comfort zone? But I hadn't realized how much I knew and recognized of signs and places etc. The train was so crowded and it was hard to find a seat. Free ticket pfft. Everyone is speaking French. And I must have chosen the craziest carriage available. It is full of Army boys and I think school kids on a trip. I think. I really have no idea. But there is a roll call going on and I'm half expecting my name. Everyone else gets their name called out. But all the other kids have one! But I shrink lower and lower in my seat, hoping to disappear off this foreign country of a train. The crazy French.



I wake up to the most wonderful view - I can see France out of my window. It doesn't look any different to Switzerland but, hey, I've never seen France out of my bedroom window before. Actually, I've never seen France at all. It is a wonderful weekend with Aline and her family. Strange how one can feel so at home with strangers. They even had a piano - ah bliss.
And Vevey has a giant fork. You don't see that every day eh?




And of course, there was Mamma Mia.
It was all I had hoped for and more. I allocated a whole blog post for it. It was goooooood.
Aline remembered that her favourite teacher lived near the Geneva Arena and so we popped in to say hello. She was indeed lovely and I now have a place to stay in Geneva :) This however cut our time just a little bit short. We then ran the whole way to the Arena (ok - maybe it wasn't that far but it almost killed me.) I just consoled myself that I would have died realizing my dream. Don't judge me.



After Mumma Mia we were waiting for 7pm so that I could use my Gleis 7 (ha! Take that Inspector Ticket!) and decided to take a look at this cool old church in the middle of Geneva. We walked in through a side door - and into the middle of Mass. But it was a really good 45 minutes or so. A chance to be quiet and have some space to think. Because I sure couldn't understand what they were saying. Pfft. A service in French. In the French part of Switzerland. What were they thinking?



Aline and I are walking home. It's about 9pm. Dark, but Switzerland is safe eh?
We're talking and laughing. Mamma Mia is bright and beautiful in our memories. I've converted yet someone else. All is well with the world.
Until Aline screams. I turn around and there is someone jumping on her. She is screaming and yelling and of course I am calm. Level headed. I take up my fighting stance - I know Karate, Judo, Pilates and Origami. Unfortunately I have no idea what the emergency number is in Switzerland. Or perhaps fortunately, or else I might have called.
Lucky for her brother.
Sheesh. You just don't do that to people.





I let Aline (aka Gung Ho) talk me into riding from her house in Vevey to Montreux. Destination: Château de Chillon. As I alight the bicycle the reality hits me that I haven't ridden a bike for...years. I feel like a kid learning all over again. But the allure of a castle proves too great and I'm a fast learner. Gung Ho leads the way and it is a beautiful ride. Today my behind argues with why I insisted upon visiting yet another castle in the space of a few weeks but it's always talking to me behind my back.
Château de Chillon is amazing. So much history. Lord Byron wrote the poem The Prisoner of Chillon from impressions and memories of this Castle. I even saw where he had carved his name.
Aline and I think we are doing so well. We visit torture chambers and dungeons and secret passageways. It is 10 minutes to 6 (closing time) and we are up to site & sight 21. There are 23 site & sights on the page. So well planned and how Swiss of me. However, then we turn the page over and realize there are acutally 50 odd site & sights. Sigh. I'm not that Swiss after all.
Ah well. Next time.

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again!

I was in pure bliss.
Mamma Mia. On Stage. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Need I actually write anymore?
Well, no, but since you're here you might as well listen.
It was marvelous. Colourful, charming, energetic and captivating. I sat entranced for the entire show, almost willing it in my mind not to end. But I also was looking forward to my favourite part at the end.
The day before the show, Aline rang me to say she'd bought a ticket as well which made me very happy. I needed someone to relive the show with, or else there was a chance that I would be on a Mamma Mia high forever.
We made it there with seconds to spare (more about the rest of the weekend in another post). Literally - seconds.
And I suspect there was a rather big smile on my face from the moment I sat down until, well...it's still there.
Then show began with a warning: This show contains white lycra and platform boots.
And then the music began - blaringly loud. But so blaringly good. It was rather funny to watch everyone in sight jump in unison when it began.
So. Blaringly.Good.
And then it was non-stop goodness until right at the very end. I may have watched the movie too many times as I knew all the lines for the stage production. And the cast didn't disappoint at the end - they kept coming out with more songs.
Ahhhhh.
And the entire arena stood up and danced and sang for the last couple of songs. This may have been caused by those of us at the front. You know, you can't see - you stand up. But I can't know for sure.
And now I don't know where to go from here. I've been climbing the Mamma Mia Mountain for months and I finally reached the top and now where?
Not to worry though - I've already sniffed out a few ABBA productions in the coming months in Switzerland. As long as it's a fun slide down to the bottom of the Mamma Mia Mountain I'm happy.
Anyone want to join me for ABBA'S Greatest - showing throughout Switzerland in April??!

PS - I've decided to run away and join the Theatre.

Metamorphosis: Being Sucked In By The Swiss

I've only been here a month.
But there is some unconscious metamorphosis happening.
It's subtle.
Did you know octopuses, chameleons, and some other fish change to fit their surroundings. And, apparently, expats.

Signs of this transformation:

• I walk around eating hunks of bread. Sometimes I carry bread with me. Just in case.
  
• I carry an umbrella around with me. Wherever I go. Just in case.
  
• I often feel the need to yodel. Thankfully, it's only a feeling and I can squash it.
  
• I'm wearing black and grey. My scarf is my form of identity, my piece of colour. A scarf defines who I am??
  
• My hazelnut consumption has increased a billion percent. This may have something to do with the chocolate that covers it but I'm not sure.
  

But then there are times when I just shake my head and feel like I'm on another planet.

• MLF1 & 2 setting their watches 5-10 minutes fast so that they'll be on time. They're 10 & 7. They're not supposed to understand what on time means yet. I barely understand it's meaning.
• I sometimes get these evil desires. I think it mainly happens on a Tuesday and a Friday. This may also coincide with the rubbish pickup days. I secretly want to casually lean down and rip the sticker off the rubbish bags. And keep walking. Not only would havoc be funny to watch, but as these stickers are worth a couple of Francs each, I could make a fortune on the black market. Does Switzerland have a black market?
• On the Road. I'm something of a crazy person when I'm driving here. I hunch over the wheel, eyes furtively glancing around, mumbling to myself. Stay Right. The driver belongs in the centre of the road. Stay Right. You're doing fine. Stay Right.

So perhaps it will all even itself out. And I'll be on time, drive safely, and stay away from orange stickers.

Today I'm being a part of World Blog Surf Day. There's a bunch of us who are linking to each other in a giant circle. A giant expat blogger circle. Cool eh?
Well the next stop on the circuit is Mark and his blog Traveling Without Moving.
He's got some amazing photos and videos and you can travel without moving! Worth a click!

It's No Use Crying Over Spilt Chocolate Milk. Just Use a Bed Sock.

Thursday is Library Day. I mean, BiblioTech Day. I always call it the Library and the girls smile and nod. They have no idea what I mean when I say that.

After school, MLF1 & Friend, and I jump into the car and we pick up MLF2 & Friend from Friend's house and then we pick up MLF3 and it's off to the BiblioTech we go.
Note: I'm driving. I'm repeating: Stay Right, stay right, stay right. Does this worry anyone else? Or just me?

Today it was at MLF3 pickup point that I realized all our library books were swimming in chocolate milk.
Note: This is not good.

I had put the afternoon snack and MLF2's chocolate milk (in a sealed cup!) with the books in the back of the car. However, all the girls want to read their books for the last time on the short trip to the BiblioTech. Why they insist upon this, I don't know.
In grabbing their books, they had unknowingly knocked over the chocolate milk and both bags now had chocolate milk in them. Both bags.
Note: I'm not sure how this was even physically possible.

I'm sure there was more chocolate milk in those bags than I had ever put in the cup. I took all the books out of the bags and emptied the bags out on the ground.
Note: There is now a chocolate river outside of MLF3's daycare.

I look for a tissue, or some sort of absorbent object. But, I had cleaned out the car last week and got rid of all items I deemed as rubbish at the time.
Note: No tissue in sight.

Finally I decided to use MLF3's socks. This morning she insisted upon wearing bed socks to Daycare. Obviously half way through the day she decided au pair knows best and so now (thankfully) they were with her other items. Unfortunately they were not as absorbent as I had hoped, and besides, once a sock is full of chocolate milk, well, it's full of chocolate milk.
Note: It seemed like a good idea at the time.

All this time all the girls have their noses in their books. At least those books are chocolate milk-free. Every now and then one of them will say, Are we going to the BiblioTech yet? I want to give them incredulous looks that will silence them, but I don't. I am supposed to be the adult in this situation. I'm not supposed to be the adult covered in chocolate milk in this situation.
Note: This is not exactly an enjoyable situation.

I finally sop up all the milk I can and wring the socks out. It will have to do.
We arrive at the BiblioTech and the girls run inside. Five hours later, I've done all the cleaning of those books that I can and I go inside to confess our chocolate milk fiasco. Thankfully, the librarian is our neighbour and is also very nice.
Note: An excellent real estate choice, having your librarian as your neighbour.

We return home with new books. New opportunities to lose, spill or otherwise ruin. And I resume my position as guardian of the Library books. I was lax for a few moments, but it will not happen again.
Note: This guardian needs a shower. I still smell like chocolate milk.

Reflections on the Last Month

Starting at the beginning is hard. It's difficult, it's slow, it's sometimes humiliating. It's requiring all of me - just to function in normal everyday life.
This is something of a new concept for me. And, not surprisingly. At no other time in my life have I entered a such completely different world. Different in culture, in people, in language.
I've felt like a child. Learning the basics all over again.

And yet, people are still exactly the same. Same frustrations, joys and hopes. Still scrambling to be a part of the social economy that we set for ourselves. Same core desires in relationships. Wanting and hoping to be understood and loved for who we think we are and what we stand for. And often seeking to wrap ourselves in familiarity when surrounded by that which we do not know.

And then green noses were out, and red ones were in. If Only I Had A Green Nose is one of my favourite children's books. In it, a Puppet gets his nose painted green because everyone else is, but then everyone decides that red is the news colour, and then another colour and another. It's hard to keep up and soon he cannot remember what colour his nose actually was. I've thought a lot about outward appearances and the like over the last month. It's almost been a sensory overload to me. All the time I find my thoughts along the lines desiring new things. I see and I want. I could use that. I could need that. And the more I allow myself to think this way, the more unhappy I am with what I have. And, in truth, I am more than happy with what I have. I don't need for anything.
If I start viewing the people and world around me in this way - judging others by what they have and wear, and how they act, then, unwittingly but most definately, I am completely opening myself up to also be judged in this way. Even if it is only in my own mind. And who wants to live life like this? I think it only creates a lack of self-confidence in who we really are and does not encourage truth and goodness.
But yet it is such a challenge to live this way. It requires constant recalling. I crave simplicity, but yet I unconsciously intake messages of materialism. I choose to be content.

It takes transparency to be transparent. And yet, we like to see it before we give it. It takes much courage to turn this process around. It goes against the natural grain of ourselves. But yet it is a truely beautiful thing to be a part of.

Two souls simply being together...involves, requires openness, risks, and the clumsiness of spontaneous words. - Leunig.

When you love somebody, you want to serve them. You want to do everything you can to help them, to make their road easier. You want to. But this love doesn't magically appear in your feelings. I'm not sure how it gets there. Maybe its a slow process. Maybe its a choice. Maybe it is both. I think this is true:

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it
yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way. - Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

Faith is a confidence in the things we hope for. I think it is sad when Christians do not do so well at representing what God is actually about - what his heart is. And I fail at this all the time. I'm relieved to remember that God in no way needs me, but yet sometimes still chooses to allow me to show what His love looks like. And that I can see tangible traits of God in people. In people. I'm so glad for this.


I didn't realize how many random thoughts had been going around in my head this past month until I've gone to write them down. Such a clutter floating around upstairs.
This month, I've been glad for:

hope
feathers
oranges
snowflakes
breathtaking views
new sights
skype
new friends
winter coats
daffodils
german phrase books
lined paper
black tea
walking
an endless discovery of new breads
road trips
audio books

Please EXIT the Plane Now Before Your Head Explodes

I'm not admitting to it, but sometimes it's like someone switches a light on in my head. A click! and then I understand. Sometimes this little process takes several seconds for the light to fully switch on.

I've only driven on the highway here a few times. I mean actually driving, not just being in the car. I take more notice of things when I'm actually driving. This is my excuse and explanation for the following story. You are not allowed to think any less of me for what is to come.

There's a certain turnoff that I see a lot and I've wondered a few times what that town is like. There seemed to be quite a few exits for it and I assumed it must be something of a sizable town. I didn't ask, but just wondered in my head. Very good decision in hindsight.

Then, in Germany the other day I noticed this same exit sign and some rather loud bells went off in my head. I think it was because of these very loud bells that it took several seconds for the thought to form and process in my head. Too much noise going on in there.

This so called town, this destination, this exit - is an exit. The town of Ausfahrt, besides being a ridiculous name for a town, in German means EXIT.
Shame Shame Shame.

However, now things make a lot more sense in this head of mine. And, to make myself feel better, I looked up online about Ausfahrt and I don't think I'm alone. Phew.

A Canadian band even called their CD - All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt.
And the Urban Dictionary even defines Ausfahrt as Biggest city in Germany. Almost every Autobahn exit directs to it.

Pfft. As if. How dumb are they. Somebody needs to set them straight.

Illiterate, Penniliess and Learning the Art of Bag Snatching.

So yesterday I pretended I was in a fairytale for the day.
I got to visit Disney's inspiration for His castle, go through Austria to Germany, and fly because I was wearing Astro Boy's boots. Two truths and One Lie. It's a fun game.

But perhaps more on that in another post.
Today.
I was doing the right thing and *cough* paying my *cough* fine. Somewhat begrudgingly but at least the dirty deed is done.
The guy at the Post Office couldn't speak English. What is it with people not speaking English in this German/French/Italian speaking country?!
Midway through the *cough* fine paying process he made gestures. At the time I didn't know what he was trying to say. I raised my hands in question and apologized. Enshuldigung
He looked at me pityingly, and shook his head in a sad, sorry sort of way. In hindsight, I think I was supposed to maybe write my details down. In the split second after his pitiful look I realized that he thought I was illiterate.
But once you've made claims of illiteracy, you can't take them back. I would have just been digging myself a hole. You know, with my extensive knowledge of German and all.
And so I walked out feeling somewhat illiterate. And somewhat poorer.

Now that I'm pretty much a homeless illiterate broke bum, I walk toward my train and for once I was early. I think this was a first. Normally I'm running down the platform, bag and scarf flying out behind me, coat undone, and throwing money somewhere in this ticket machine vicinity.
Not today.
And because I was early I got to spend 10 minutes talking with this Little Old Lady, or LOL for short.. She had good English, she told me, because she read crime books, books of crime and books with criminals and the like. She asked me what time the train came no less than 6 times. Funnily enough, the time stayed the same.
LOL made me feel, mmm, somewhat nervous with all her crime talk. She seemed sweet, but it's never who you expect ja? She could've been a bag snatcher for all I knew. You never hear of little old ladies bag-snatching but they would have the element of surprise on their side.

Me and the Door. And the Jolly Green Jumper

A quick post before I sleep off walking many miles today in Lucern.
It was such an excellent day - Nicole and I explored many places and only got lost a few times.

Firstly - I have a bit of a thing for small doors. I'm not sure when this started but I've been collected a few photos here and there - just me and the door.
I'm thinking this will be a good album name for my debut album: Me and the Door.
Today I was having my photo taken - just me and the door and then Jolly Green Jumper jumped into my photo. I do not know Jolly Green Jumper; He does not know me.
I don't think we even exchanged any words. He probably spoke German. I do not.



This awakened a desire within my to jump in other people's photos. I'm thinking I'll start small - you know, just small tourists and could build my way up to weddings and then modeling. Perhaps I'll even get famous.

Watch and Learn.
When we were coming back on the train tonight (Gleis7 - ahah Inspector Ticket) I noticed an evading boy and girl. They were good at blending in with their surroundings at first but then it became all too obvious to me. Lurking in the loo, hiding on the stairs. And watching for Inspector Ticket behind large newspapers. And leaving the carriage once it was all clear. Beware evading boy and girl. Fare evasion costs an all too recent memory of $80 CHF.

From the Mouths of Babes

MLF3 and I were hanging out in her room this morning. I was making beds etc and reading her her nursery rhyme book. She was singing along when she knew the words.
Side note: I couldn't convince her that it was not:
Twinkle Twinkle Little Stark
How I wonder what your ark.

Anyway, it started to snow while we were up there and as it got a bit heavier I was kind of excited. You know, coming from a non-snowy place and all.
Look, MLF3, Look outside!
What?
It's snowing!
Yeah.....so? (Ok, so she didn't say 'Yeah....so?' but her look said it all.)

It was cold today. When I had to pick up MLF3 from Daycare I wore a jacket and a scarf. It was pretty cold. On the way home we passed the friends of the family (remember from last weekend skiing...) and the four year old came running up to me and this is what I heard,
Blah Blah Blah Volkswagon
Translation: Why are you wearing a scarf? It's not cold enough!
Serious. Her Dad translated for me. I protested that it was cold but actually I walked home feeling rather wimpy.
It's not cold enough. Pfft. It is!


And in other news, I'm heading to Luzern tomorrow to discover an adventure and on Sunday am going to Germany to go on a castle crawl. Yip Yip.

"A Series of Unfortunate Events." by MissInformed.

I'm still seething.
I'm trying to forget an unfortunate experience in which I was misled, misinformed and mistreated.

Ticket please?

I've been asked to show my ticket quite a few times already on the train since I arrived less than a month ago. The other day the ticket inspector came up to me out of nowhere and said something.
I didn't what he said because I had my IPod on. And I wouldn't have understood him anyway.
I speak English. I wish I had a sticker on my forehead that said this.
I took my earphones out of my ears, and said 'My ticket?'
And he said with a deadpan voice but a disapproving face, 'You can't buy a ticket on a train.'
I fished out my ticket and showed it to him. I think he was disappointed that I had one.


I'm still trying to work out the travel system but thankfully I've been ticket-equipped so far.
Until now.

On Tuesday night I met up with a few other au pairs at the Irish Pub for St Patrick's Day. I think it's the only one in the Zurich City area and it was packed.
All was well.
I left at about 10:30 because it would take me a good 40 mins to get home and I was pretty tired.
I left the pub and was glad to see Tram #2 waiting outside. I jumped on.
I was too glad.
It was about 4 stops later that I realized that Tram #2 was going in the opposite direction to what I wanted.
This was just ticking over in my head when Inspector Ticket got on board the tram. He was closely accompanied by Sidekick Einstein. (I call him this for his looks only! - not his brains)

Inspector Ticket made his way to me and asked for my ticket. I was on the mark though this time and knew what he was wanting. I am clever.
I fished out my Gleis7 and handed it to him.

-Now, a Gleis7 is a pass I purchased when I first arrived. It is valid for a year and allows me to travel after 7pm for free.
-When you purchase a ticket during the day, this ticket is valid for trains, planes and automobiles. Actually not, but it is valid for trains, trams, boats and buses.

Wrong Assumption #1: Gleis7 is also valid for trains, trams, boats and buses.
Wrong Assumption #2: This would all be over very quickly and I could get off this wrong Tram and start heading in the right direction.

Inspector Ticket informed me that I Gleis7 is not valid for trams and then started to get his things together for a ticket.
It was at this point that I should have started crying. You know, for sympathy. But I don't know how to cry in German.

It was about this point that Sidekick Einstein entered the scene. He was sort of mumbling to himself and laughing every now and then.
Inspector Ticket kept dropping his papers and ticket machine and things and swearing.
And it was English. I could understand exactly what he was saying. Now he speaks English.

It took forever to fine me. And it felt longer because I was still heading in the wrong direction. All the while Inspector Ticket is swearing and Sidekick Einstein is laughing somewhat hysterically. It was kind of a quiet hysterical laugh.
Then I realized: I think he is drunk. Sidekick Einstein drunk on the job.

And I'm still heading in the wrong direction. They finally give me the ticket which I stuffed into my purse and haven't pulled out since. And I hopped off at the next stop. Good riddance!
And found myself in the middle of nowhere.

I started walking back to the previous tram stop - hoping it would be bigger than this one. There were a number of crazy people around and I was pretty keen to get home.
I walked fast.
And bought a ticket at the next stop. Ha! Not falling for that one again!

Tram #2 finally made its way in the right direction and it seemed slower than normal. It always does when you have that one last train of the night to catch and if you miss it, you're walking.

Well I missed the train by 30 seconds but thankfully there was one more 1/2 hour later. Phew.
So I sat in Maccas and drowned my sorrows in a cheeseburger.
And caught the train home for free with my Gleis7.
So there, Ticket Inspector. Take that and don't drop it.