Italy Part 1: Emilia-Romagna Adventure

The day we found out that CF would be taking this year long assignment I saw Mr. PZ on GoogleTalk. "Hey, when are you guys going to Italy?" I knew they had been thinking about going. So that was how I told the Z's the big news about our big Z, Zürich. And basically right from the start it was decided that we would all spend some time in Italy together. They picked set their itinerary, and we decided we'd like to see Siena and since they were going to Florence/Firenze for mostly weekend days we decided to revisit one of our favorite cities. Somewhere along the way we realized if CF took one more vacation day off from work we could spend two straight weekends on this trip so he and I decided to see some of the region known as Emilia-Romagna. Returning to Italy was one of the best parts of moving here, the anticipation was killing me as the date grew nearer.

We booked our train tickets to stop in Parma. We figured we'd spend a few hours in the city of ham and cheese before moving on to Bologna, where we had a room booked for three nights. The difference between Switzerland and Italy was clear to me the moment we got off the train. Italy is much more chaotic and rough. It took me by surprise, I think I had started to lump all of Europe into one too closely related image. Living here really makes you recognize the variations, and appreciate what makes each place unique. My first mistake made itself known very quickly, it turns out the reason I could not find info on the lockers at the Parma train station is that there are no lockers at the Parma train station! We went through a range of gut reactions and considered just getting on the next train headed for Bologna. We decided to feel out the situation a bit better and resolved to haul our suitcases around with us for as long as we could bear, and figured we'd just move on a little earlier than planned. I double checked with a hotel right near the train station that we couldn't pay to leave our luggage. "No, because of September Eleven." Interesting. We saw signs directing people to the Tourism Office, some place we rarely ever go, and I decided to ask them if they knew where we might find a locker. "You can leave your bags here." they said, "They're not locked up but we do not charge you, just leave identification while you're gone." Since even after just 20 minutes of dragging our luggage around had put us in a bit of a bad mood we decided to take our chances on this. We kept the laptop and camera equipment, the most anyone was going to get by stealing from us was our cheap American clothing and maybe a Tiffany's necklace.

We were so proud of making the best of our situation in Parma, so it was all the more of a blow to the ego when it turned out that all the restaurants and cafes were closing down between lunch and dinner just as we were finally free to sit down and eat. Very disappointing to see this happening just as we were about to get a meal in the foodie capitol of this foodie nation. We wandered around and saw a good portion of this small city. I suppose we were easing into Italy slowly and gradually this way. The streets seemed so empty! It was sort of odd. Eventually we found a cafe that was staying open between meals so we went inside. We actually had a really nice meal of ravioli and two different salads. And for dessert we went to a gelato place we noticed while wandering, and even on this chilly day in Parma we decided it was time to dive back into one of our favorite Italian habits! Their gelato was absolutely amazing, I had salted caramel and CF had pistachio. Delicious. I'd say our stop in Parma was justified in one small cup of frozen milk! We collected our bags, thanked them profusely for watching them for us, and made our way back to the train station and bought tickets for our short ride to Bologna. As we walked to the station we noticed the shops that were closed before were reopening and the streets had about 5 times as many people in them. Our poor trip to Parma was unfortunately timed right during a very serious siesta.

Our train was delayed, another reminder that we were no longer in Switzerland. But we got to have a nice conversation with a lady waiting with her friend for the same train. CF gave them his space on the bench we were waiting on and she told him that he was a sweetheart. She ended up telling us all about her trip to the US. She had been to so many places I have never been! New Orleans, Boston, the Grand Canyon. I think coming back after a year will make us pay more attention to not taking these places for granted. Our train finally came and everyone hurried on board. It wasn't long before we arrived in Bologna.

We were arriving a little bit earlier than expected so we took care of that by starting off in the wrong direction for a minute or two, but we corrected quickly. After a 15 minute walk we found the door to Múa Bed and Breakfast and got checked in. Our evening was a bit rough, one of our usual "first night in a new city" types of experiences. I wanted to go to a certain restaurant just around the corner from us but we went in right as they opened at 8pm and were told we could not dine without a reservation. So we went down a few doors to the wine bar I noticed on our way to the B&B but CF said he didn't feel like munching on happy hour snacks in a crowded bar. By that point we were so cranky that we just decided to call it a night and start fresh the next day. Going to bed early during one of our adventures seemed quite appealing anyway.

I woke up early the next morning after turning in for the night so early. We were the first ones in our small, 5 room B&B out to breakfast. The woman putting out the food was not the woman who checked us in the evening earlier. We helped ourselves to some great food while she made us our first Italian cappuccini. The best part of breakfast that day, and every morning in Bologna, was the prosciutto and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. In Emilia-Romagna is should come as absolutely no surprise. Turns out our breakfast hostess was Danish, but some reason her accent sounded just like Catherine Zeta-Jones to me.

We spent a lazy Sunday wandering this new city, we knew very well that many places would be closed. However, we encounter plenty of good stuff. We stopped in at a coffee shop and enjoyed 1euro espresso, which after paying 4 or 5chf for crappy coffee in Zürich seemed like an amazing deal. They also had some very tasty cookies and some delicious looking gelato. Had the temperature been as scorching at 11am as it was during our first trip to Italy (in '05) we would have been ready, but we practiced a little restraint just this once. After wandering a bit more, through a park with rather strange statues and past a Spainish funeral procession, I noticed a good number of people going into an osteria. So we decided to grab some lunch. We were led downstairs and seated at a table for four. They were offering a few daily specials and then a wide variety of crostini and panini. We ordered a mixed crostini, a pasta dish and a meat dish. A full Italian meal split between the two of us. There was an interesting beer on the menu but he said it was finito. So CF order our first half liter of red wine. Ah, we're getting back into the swing of things now! I was a little embarrassed when it appeared that we were the first table in the room to get wine. But once our platter of yummy crostini showed up and the wine made them all the more enjoyable I didn't mind so much. The tables filled up, another couple was seated with us. The room was buzzing now! This was a great pick for lunch. By the time our pasta came I noticed most of the room was now drinking wine. We had to wait a bit for our meat dish, I think we got lost in the shuffle, but we made the most of it by ordering just a bit more wine.

After lunch we wandered in the direction of an award winning gelateria. Their dark chocolate gelato would make you weep! We were kind of frozen in our footsteps it was so good. We just stood outside and ate our dessert. CF went back in to use the restroom while I started to read some Bologna tips and recommendations contained in their news clippings posted outside their shop, "Could you grab me a business card while you're back inside?" I asked. I guess I sort of noticed when an alarm started going off, but I was lost in a fog of chocolate heaven. CF came back out of the door and walked right past me. I acted mildly offended, "Reaaaaally?" "Yes, really." He said. He sounded upset. Turns out he thought I was asking if he had set off that alarm I heard. And yes, he reaaaally had! He thought the toilet flushed when you pulled the cord. It turned out to be one of those emergency pulls that we had seen in every bathroom in Italy last time, but didn't think they really worked. Well, this one sure did. Hilariously, he had still grabbed me the business card even as he hung his head in shame and exited and quickly as possible.

We decided to head back for a bit of a siesta (and to shake off any lingering embarrassment). While we were relaxing in the room I heard music being played nearby and I leaned out the window to try to figure out where it was coming from. It turned out to be from the very small gang of musicians playing at the end of the alley where Múa is located. Somehow they spotted me almost right away and pretty soon they came down the alley, playing their 3 or 4 instruments and smiling up at me. CF threw down a coin and decided to take their picture. But right then they were stopped by our downstairs neighbors, it seems there was a baby napping and the music was much too loud. The buskers argued with the weary parents, while CF and I grinned down from above very amused at the scene playing out below.

We went back to a wine bar that we had gone past earlier in the day and enjoyed the happy hour culture. Basically as long as you're buying drinks you get to munch. This place had great jazz music playing and a huge wine list. For once we were just ordering the house red and the focus really was more on individual glasses of wine. I got to try a number of things I'd been curious about, like lambrusco (a fizzy red) and vin santo (somewhere between a dessert wine and port). They were cooking up little pizza bites and crostini to put out with potato chips and olives. We ordered a little extra antipasti plate and basically made a meal out of what we enjoyed there. Afterwards we went to another popular gelato place and had more amazing gelato. The girl behind the counted looked completely burnt out from a night serving rowdy University students. I selected a flavor that was a blend of white chocolate and cherries, I didn't know what flavor to combine with it (any other cream flavor would clash, but I wasn't sure it was quite right to put a fruit sorbet with it) so I asked for her recommendation. CF said that was the only time she smiled the whole time we were in there, and she picked out berry to put with my pick. Yum! Bologna is definitely a good time.

Monday morning we were the first to breakfast once again, this time because we had to get to class. I had signed us up for a one-day course in pasta making at La Vecchia Scuola Bolognese... Old School, baby! CF realized the code he thought he had assigned for our in-room safe was not working, and our train tickets from Florence to Zürich, as well as our passports, were inside. So along with a quick breakfast we got some assistance from the lady with the CZJ accent, she had the master key and we decided to leave the safe open for the rest of our stay. "It's too bad," I teased our breakfast hostess, "I thought we were just going to have to stay for good." She laughed.

We hurried off to class and found a very mixed group of people waiting in front of the school. It was in a mainly residential neighborhood, in a modest but charming little building. Everyone else was chatting in Italian, and I started to wonder if just because they said the class could be offered in English meant that they'd do it even if most of the students were Italian. From across the street we heard cries of "bongiorno!" and the fearless threesome that runs la Veccia Scuola made their grand entrance into our day. They were obviously forces to be reckoned with, beaming huge smiles and carrying armloads of cooking ingredients. This was going to be fun! We all filed inside and the youngest of the three teachers, Stefania, said hello to people and I let her know who I was. "Ah, it is you!" Turns out CF and I were her only students for the day. Her uncle was teaching the longer term but amateur course while her mother taught the regular professional students. We all worked in basically the same space, though the future professional chefs spent most of their time in the actual kitchen while we rolled out
sfoglia (pasta dough) in the prep room.

We measured out flour by weight and made it into a little bowl on our table, we cracked eggs straight into it and that was it, time to mix these two ingredients together. She showed us how to do it, first with a fork while it was sticky and then with our hands as it came together. I gently kneaded, hoping I was doing it right. But it was CF who made her gasp, "Oh NO!" He was smooshing it flat with every push of his palm. Doesn't know his own strength. Part of the appeal of fresh pasta is the little bubbles of air that remain in the dough and make it springy when you eat it. She gave each of our rounds of dough funny little taps trying to show us how mine "sang," as it was full of little holes. CF's? Not so much. We mixed filling that would later go into tortelloni while the dough rested and then it was time to role. She showed us how to get nice round flat sheets of sfoglia just waiting to be cut into any type of pasta. And for the most part we did pretty good at replicating her work. We made one sheet into bow-ties and another was folded over itself several times and then cut into tagliatelle. I liked unrolling the ribbons of pasta as CF did the slicing. Another sheet was cut into squares like the bow-ties started and then we used little gnocchi harps to roll the squares into penne like tubes. All the while the classroom buzzed with the sounds and smells of the kitchen. Stefania and her uncle would goof around while the students were focusing on a task. He'd pick her up and she'd yell for help. Every so often he'd bump into us on purpose and I would giggle. "Oh, sorry!" he'd throw up his hands and say, I couldn't quite tell how his English compared to his niece's.

The most fun we had all day was making the tortelloni and tortellini. We cut squares and piped ricotta and parsley filling into the centers. Apparently I was too modest with the filling, CF did a bit better filling them right. Pasta expands when it cooks at ultimately you want the tortelloni to be half pasta and half filling. At one point the uncle grabbed the pastry bag and went back over a few that I had done. He overloaded one and then playful scolded CF, "Is too much for tortelloni!" Without blinking CF pointed an accusing finger at me and the master pasta maker through his head laughing. He patted CF on the back. I think these two are rather like-minded. Just for the record, I had trouble folding these more filled squares!

The cooking class ended with most all of the students standing around one table filling tiny squares of thinly rolled sfoglia (Stefania rolled this one, we as beginners probably couldn't get it thin enough) and folding them into tortellini. The filling for these was a mix of pork and aged parmigiano. We had been on our feet for the couple of hours since breakfast and CF thought it smelled delicious, along with the scents of the food cooking in the kitchen. "Oh, it smells SO good." He whispered to me. The other students were whispering too, I tried to follow what they were asking Stefania but I just don't know enough Italian. I'm fairly sure I picked up that they wanted to know if we (CF and I) were only here for one day and were we already cooking students. CF said later that he got the overall feeling that they were generally impressed with us showing up and working so hard while we were on "vacation." The Italians don't realize the thrill of this for us!

Finally we all sat down to a huge meal together that we had made together. The pasta that we and the amateur students had made was the heart of the meal. The tagliatelle was served with a beefy ragú, the tortellini were in a broth so we ate them from a bowl with a soup spoon and the tortelloni were smothered in a fresh tomato sauce (the other pasta was dried so we could take it with us). The professional students had made the sauces as well as the braised beef and grilled vegetables that rounded out the meal. There was wine, there was water, there was bread that was barely touched because look at what we had to eat! Other members of Stefania's family had shown up to eat as well. It got to the point where we couldn't tell who was family, who was student, who was employee. This family style meal was just that, we were all family working together for the day and eating together was the perfect way to end this experience. Stefania's mother, who we had barely seen all day as she was ruling over the kitchen, sat across from me and teased CF that he "doesn't eat so much" after he filled his plate for the second or third time.

I left promising Stefania advice for her upcoming trip to Napa (which as I write this I realize has already happened, I hope she had an amazing time). We paid our bill once the class was over and felt that every euro cent was well spent. This class blew any class we've ever taken in the States out of the water. This is the kind of small business that you can't help but want to support. I wish nothing but the absolutely best for this amazing family.

After class we walked to the train station and bought train tickets for the next morning and then went and had a little down time after a long day of cooking. We finally met Uberto, our fabulous host, in person. I had spoken to him on the phone two weeks earlier and had managed to tell him that I spoke very little Italian but could understand a little more which he liked so he'd talk to me in Italian and then I'd respond in English. It worked well until the day's German lesson somehow slipped onto my tongue and a "Ja." came out of my mouth instead of yes or si. My poor scrambled brain!

After a rest we decided that we should take the opportunity to go see the indoor market that had been closed by the time we arrived on Saturday and was closed all day Sunday. Good thing we weren't hungry because the food there was incredible. It seemed like anything you could possibly think of to eat was in there, even imported produce for ethnic cooking. The large warehouse liking building was filled with food stalls, and along the sides were little shops where things like bread, salumi and fresh pasta were sold. It drives me a bit crazy to see stuff like this and not get to buy anything, but we were so glad to just know it's out there in the universe.

We wandered around and enjoyed the lovely evening. Eventually CF needed a restroom and I suggested stopping at a tiny little bar we happened to walk past. We ended up staying for well over an hour. They had the best happy hour spread we had seen, a huge quarter wheel of gorgonzola, little sandwiches, pizza, olives, crackers, and much, much more. They were playing even better music than the night before and the vibe there was so much fun. People were stopping in for a quick drink, a family was gathered around the high table next to ours, the father dancing a little to the music, one of the bartenders kept slipping away to flirt with a girl or two, while the older gentleman behind the counter just kept making drinks and snacks while looking impossibly cool. I could have stayed in that setting all night and been very happy. But all good things come to an end and happy hour must lead into dinner time. I tore myself away and when we left I noticed it was almost 8 and they'd want to be closing.

We wandered around looking for a place for dinner but nothing was going to compare to happy hour. How awesome is it that a tiny little no name bar can basically put Bologna way up high on my list of great cities? I'm sure Bologna was full of tourists, but they were Italian tourists, even the touristy restaurants are going to have good food. The city isn't perfectly clean, it beautiful portico covered walkways are covered in graffiti actually, but I felt safe everywhere we walked. I really got to feel la dolce vita here in this city just big enough to be exciting but small enough so that you could connect with the life in the people around you.

For the third morning in a row we were first to breakfast. This time because we a train to catch. We paid for our room and thanked Uberto's wife and our breakfast hostess (her face had even started resemble Catherine Zeta-Jones to me) for a wonderful stay. "I'm sorry about the tickets." Faux-CZJ teased me back for the joke I made the day before, "We should have kept you here forever." I quite agree.

London Whirlwind

So, now that we had started to learn some German it was time to visit an English speaking country. CF's good friend and former coworker, Mr. PB, was in London for two weeks and we had decided to go see him for the weekend in the middle. We booked plane tickets for Saturday morning and Sunday evening. That's right, an overnight trip to one of the most famous cities in the world, and I had never been there before.

It was my first experience flying out of Zürich airport, last year we left on the train. And the public transportation here had another chance to shine in my eyes. It was 2 or 3 minutes on the tram down to HB, trains to the airport run about every 10 to 15 minutes, and the ride to the airport is only about 10 minutes. We're talking come up the stairs and you're in the airport and ready to go through security. It's so sweet. Our arrival in London was not. We flew with EasyJet, and that meant landing way out at Luton airport. We had to fill out landing cards, one per household. I noted our visit was a whopping one day. "What can you do with one day then?" we were asked at passport control. I was wondering the very same thing. "Just a little weekend getaway, come to spend your money?" CF joked with him that their economy was doing about as well as ours. "We'll all go down together!" we were assured. I had consulted with JLF on the best way to get into the city center, but even if the express train hadn't been delayed it still would have taken a while. We arrived in Central London with just over 24 hours to explore.

The first order of business? A stop at Leicester Square and a visit to something rather familiar, the TKTS booth. I couldn't let my only night here go by without seeing a show, the boys would be happier without me tagging along anyway. Unfortunately the timing wasn't so good, the shows I'd wanted to see had closed, or were closed as they moved from the equivalent of "Off-Broadway" to the West End. I considered seeing a "classic," I haven't seen Les Miz or Phantom in years, it would be interesting to see them where they started. I thought about taking the opportunity to finally see Michael Ball perform, I used to think he was so dreamy and wore out my Aspects of Love soundtrack on cassette tape listening to him. Then I realized I'd just cry the whole time because he's playing Edna, the mother, in Hairspray, I couldn't bring myself to it. I was having a hard time deciding, I've seen many of the shows playing, I'm so spoiled/lucky. In my pre-trip research I somehow started reading about a brand new show, one with classically trained Flamenco dancers (Love!), sword fighting (Have I mentioned I am a huge sucker for swashbucklers?), and music by the Gipsy Kings (Really? Cool!). And even though I knew I'd be embarrassed every time I had to tell someone what I had chosen to see, I ended up buying a ticket for Zorro, the Musical. Go ahead and laugh, it's all right, I'll wait.

So after collecting a half-price day-of ticket I was feeling right at home in this city and we proceeded to our hotel. We were staying on a great street, just far enough away from the noise and chaos of Picadilly Circus. PDP stays here on business trips so we had a good recommendation, and I liked knowing we'd be so central since it was just one night! We got checked in, freshened up a bit, and we were finally ready to go track down PB for lunch. Poor guy had been waiting and waiting while we wasted the day away in transit. He informed us we were benefiting from some unusually nice weather and it was true, this was not the dark, gray London I had expected. The sun was shining, the people were speaking English and I had a ticket to the theater in my purse. Lovely! I had a nice lunch with them but then excused myself to go explore a bit.

I often say that everything I know about geography I learned from musicals. This is especially true of London. Most of the places I hoped to see were in song lyrics from one source or another. It's a quick mention but Harrods does come up in a song from Evita, a song which gets stuck in my head every time I hear something about that store. My interest was piqued, I took the Underground there. I found "the tube" to be muggy and slightly claustrophobic, but the goober in me was sold once the little voice said, "Mind the gap!" at one of the stops. Hee!

Harrods was overwhelming and mesmerizing. I wandered through the fancy clothes (I have to say, on my short visit I saw a number of men dressed in a way that can only be described as "dapper," loved it) and designer gowns a bit. I found the Aveda counter (I had learned in Dublin that they sell it at department stores in the UK) and considered buying a body spray I was regretting not purchasing before but then I realized it was more than 3 ounces so it wasn't coming home with me on the plane. I got a bit lost trying to find my way to the famous food halls and ended up in the basement looking at their branded merchandise. I bought myself a little makeup bag with a peacock feather pattern and the store logo centered on the front. The clerk who rung me up sure seemed to be sincere in all the nice things he said, and then he asked if I needed directions to my next department. At least they know how confusing their store is! I lied and told him I was fine, I'm so stubborn, I know. But I quickly found the food halls anyway, and enjoyed wandering there for a while. I did a double-take when I walked past the Galler Belgian chocolate counter, this was where I got Ms. LT the famous cognac filled dark chocolate bar in Brugges, the one that she tried to send me back for! The night before we left for London I had the funny feeling there was something I had hoped to purchase at this store and it was killing me that I couldn't figure out what it was. Mystery solved! I had looked up the chocolate brand a year ago when my beloved trainer had teased me about needing more. I was finally able to meet her demands! And I didn't even have to spend my own money, she was smart enough to send me off with a envelope full of euros she had from spending time with her family in Lucca (Italy), marked "Chocolate Fund." I hadn't expected to convert those to Great Britain pounds for her, and I also hadn't expect to be able to come home at Thanksgiving with exactly what she was hoping for. Very cool. My third and final purchase at Harrods was something that Ms. ShoppingsMyCardio had sent me after. She is a former London resident and happened to know that they had opened a Ladureé in the food halls, this is the most famous maker of macarons in Paris, and most likely the world. She had passed along some great advice on her old city and had requested I eat a salted caramel macaron in her honor. I did better than that, I had 4! The only thing I could see that I didn't like at Harrods was Krispy Kreme donuts, yes, they let them into the food halls too! And even worse, they appear to be doing good business, with people carrying large boxes of dozens away even as the business all but completely dies off in the US.

I wandered the neighborhood a little bit and then caught the tube back towards the hotel. Another tip from SMC was stocking up at Boots Pharmacy, and I was craving some skin care products! I don't quite know what's going on with my skin here but I know it's not happy. However I remembered that I was still limited in what I could get back to Zürich on the plane, stupid liquids limit! I got a few things and decided to get changed, since I had bothered to bring a nice shirt to wear to the theater. I checked in with CF via text message, they were drinking beers in a pub somewhere and having a fine time. And with that it was time to hurry over to the West End. The day was going too quickly!

My seat, as so many great TKTS seats have been before it, was up close and way off to the side. Not the best seat in the house, but quite an experience. The show was very good, a bit silly at times, but the dancing and music was seriously amazing. The swashbuckling was great too but it scared me to pieces, I was so incredibly close up I feared I'd end up a part of the action if Zorro ever lost hold of his sword. I saw sparks from metal hitting metal, it was crazy! At two different times and from two different directions Zorro swings in over the audience, and landed about three feet from where I was sitting. I ducked and was sure I was about to be kicked in the head both times. The fun part was eye contact from the flirty male dancers... some things never change. I know it was an odd choice but I thought it was fun to see something that will probably never transfer across the pond to Broadway. The show is getting great reviews and the cast is extremely talented. Given the lack of English language theater available in Zürich, I really revelled in this night. After the show I sent a text message to CF to see where he was and what was the plan. I waited for a reply and got one: he said they were almost done and just to meet him at the hotel. As I standing around communicating via iPhone I noticed members of the orchestra were departing from the stage door, and then cast members, and then, oh my god, Zorro himself. Hilarious, the actor was leaving on a motorcycle! A group of girls who were standing around wondering what to do after the show noticed him, I can't help but assume that he made sure of it. They screamed and begged for photos and autographs. I was highly amused. A crowd formed, even the drunken college students at the bar next to the theater were getting in on it, "Hey, come 'er guys! It's Zorro!" they called out. Eventually, when I'm sure his ego had been quite stroked, he put on his helmet and rode away from the crowd. What a scene! He was very good in the show, I have to say. And it turns out he recently played Che in the big Evita revival, making sure Evita stayed stuck in my head for days, and he also played the lead in a revival of Aspects of Love, the role originated by none other than Michael Ball. What are the chances?

I was very hungry at this point and decided to look for some takeout. Aha! Wagamama, an Asian-fusion place we had tried in Dublin. Ms. KZ is a big, big fan as they are very British. I ordered one dish to go and walked back to the hotel. I changed into my little nightgown I had packed to save space in my backpack and switched on the telly (it's in England so that's what it's called!). Red Dwarf reruns! It was even the episode with a guest appearance by Jane Horrocks (Bubbles from AbFab)! I sat in my comfy bed eating delicious noodles with chopsticks and decided I was having the perfect evening. And then CF came home. I don't mean to imply that it wasn't as good once he was around but he was jealous of my Wagamama meal, which meant getting dressed again and bye-bye Red Dwarf. We wandered around a bit and I showed off how I had learned to navigate the neighborhood pretty darn well in a matter of hours. Big Ben looked lovely in the distance, lit up against the dark sky. However by the time we made it past Wagamama they had just closed, so CF had to settle for scoop-and-serve Chinese food. As we walked back to the hotel he asked, "Are we going the right way?" And I knew it was a day of sitting in pubs speaking but I laughed as I answered, "Ummm, we're on our street!"

We slept a bit later than I had meant to, I was hoping to skimp a bit on sleep in order to pack more into our 24 hours in London. But the bed was oh-so comfortable! So oh well. We visited the breakfast buffet and served up a little bit of eggs and bacon along with a pastry. I noticed our plates were quite skimpy compared to the hearty appetites at the tables around us! We packed up what little we had brought with us and decided that with only a few hours before we had to start our trek back to Luton we should carry our backpacks instead of having to come back for them. We headed out with about four hours to explore.

We started with a walk through Green Park, it was another beautiful day! Then we saw a crowd at Buckingham Palace. Oh great, there was a marathon crossing our path! We walked along the runners for a ways, wondered if we could wait it out, and then followed the example set by plenty of others and ran through a break in the participants. We laughed the whole way across as our backpacks were jostled around and I hung onto my camera. Just what I'm sure those poor runners needed, American tourists tripping and falling in their way! But we managed to make it across and joked how we could now tell people we had run in a marathon. Onwards! We walked through part of St. James Park (I think I have my park names right, correct me if you know better), and then approached Westminster Abbey, the House of Parliament and Big Ben. We crossed the Thames on Westminster bridge, I believe it was pedestrian only because it was Sunday. Once we crossed we walked along the water for quite some distance. We saw the London Eye above us, St. Paul's back on the other side of the water (no time to visit up close, next time!), and bridge after bridge. We walked past the Tate Modern and the Globe theater but I couldn't see a darn thing from the outside. I had considered seeing the show playing there the night before but it wasn't even a Shakespeare play! Eventually we made our way all the way to the Tower Bridge. We sent PB a text message and asked if he wanted to meet up with us for a little while before we had to leave. We crossed the bridge and walked past the Tower of London. We got a couple sandwiches for lunch and joined the majority of people out and about that day in having a soft serve ice cream cone. PB met up with us just in time to wander around the waterfront a little longer before we jumped on the Underground one last time and headed towards Luton. There was a Boots at the airport after security so I got a little fix after all! However they didn't have the specific things I had wanted to buy, but it was still a nice little bonus. I liked London very much and will go back whenever I get the opportunity/reason. It was strange to be back in an English speaking country, but I think about half of what I overheard on the street wasn't English and a good deal of the English I heard had American accents! London is truly an international city. Perhaps even more so that expat and banker filled Zürich. Which is where we were a couple of hours later, shocked that we had only left the morning before.

Not quite Italy... but we can see it from here!

Lugano was chosen as our rebound from so-so day tripping to Lucerne the previous weekend. Why was I so certain this was the place to help us bounce back? It's in Ticino, the Italian speaking part of Switzerland! Ticino is actually surrounded by Italy on three sides, it just dips down into "the boot" like a little peninsula into another world. Lugano is quite close to Milan and Lake Como. We reserved a hotel room with a few days notices as opposed to a few hours like our last weekend trip. The train ride was twice as far, three hours, so we figured we should be well prepared. We packed one suitcase with a change of clothes and after reading about the hiking found in the area we packed our newly arrived boots. They were too late for a Gruyeres cheese hike but we knew we could still put them to good use! The train ride was ridiculously pretty. It was like we had been sucked into someone's ideal model train setting. Hills and tunnels, bridges and meadows... CF said he expected to see Heidi running by any moment now.

We arrived in Lugano and wandered a bit before we figured out how to find our hotel. We got a peek at the Lake and I knew we were in for some lovely views! The last time we had been in an Italian speaking setting (besides the restaurant down the street from us) was my family's 2005 trip to Italy, only the second time that CF and I had traveled out of the country together. We had taken an Italian class before going, but it had been years with no brushing up. Like trying to remember some French in Fribourg, Lugano tripped us up with Italian. But it wasn't too long before we got a bit of it back, at least enough to be polite. We mostly just wandered that day and enjoyed feeling like we got our Weekend Travel Warrior groove back. For lunch we had a disappointing pizza and for dinner some bizarre Chinese food. Hmmm, I didn't think the food would be so bad when you can pretty much see Italy right across the water! What's going on here? We did have a good time getting reacquainted with Italian culture, you know, like gelato and prosecco happy hour drinking!

The next day we put on those hiking boots and took off in the direction of Monte Bré. We hadn't done a whole lot of reading but we knew the experience included taking a funicular up the mountain and then there was hiking to be done up on top. So when we got to the ticket booth and they asked if we wanted round trip fare for the funicular we both nodded and wondered if this guy was crazy... of course we were going to come back down! We got seats on the funicular as it was filling up and off we went, into the sky. There were a bunch of kids on some sort of excursion together in the different sections of the strange vehicle. It was the littlest one who noticed CF and I speaking English to each other though, I realized this when I heard her mother, or maybe teacher slowly whisper to her, "Where are you from?" She was prompting her! The little girl looked at me but shied away, I tried to think of a way to start talking to her but got distracted by the amazing view revealed as we came to the top of the mountain.

It was incredible. Perhaps the grandest view of my lifetime. And we both agreed that my mom would cry (this is our new way of judging the beautiful things we see). We meandered around a bit, I think the view had blown our minds. And then we saw the trails sign. Ohhhh. All of the sudden we realized we had overpaid our funicular fare; if we really wanted to hike, we were not leaving this mountain the way we came. We almost got a little overly ambitious and took off in the direction that would have actually brought us down into Italy. However that hike was pushing three hours in predicted duration and we weren't carrying any water or food. So instead we decided to descend towards the water, it was estimated to take about an hour and a half and the view appeared to be dazzling. So after soaking in just a bit more gloriousness we started downwards.

It started with 10 minutes of cement stairs and then we arrived in the small town of Bré. Then we found our trail and I quickly realized this was not going to be easy. The trail was almost entirely made up of steep, steep stairs. CF's long legs climbed down the path easily. My legs are quite short and it wasn't long before my quads were tingling. I wasn't sure at first if it was muscle fatigue or if I was shaking a bit from worrying I was going to fall and go tumbling down the hillside. Maybe it was a bit of both. CF was a great hiking partner, he had brought his backpack and when he realized I was nervous he took my heavy camera and carried it whole way. Halfway through I thought to myself, "I'm not having fun. But there's no way I'm going back up that hill so all I can do is keep going!" After a little while the drop off the side of trail wasn't quite so... severe and I relaxed and actually enjoyed the hike. I hadn't had a tough work out like this in quite some time!

Most of the way down we were actually enveloped by trees, so much for the great view! Eventually (closer to two hours later), the trees opened up and we were deposited into the small town of Gandria, right on the water. Hungry and thirsty from our adventure in funicular-fare-wasting we quickly spotted Ristorante Gandria and decided to have lunch. We were given a lovely table out on the terrace and had a great meal. It was the kind of meal I was expecting to have in Lugano, aha, maybe you need to get out of the more touristy city! Once we started to get into the right mindset CF thought to order a half-liter of house red wine, and we were happily accommodated. We had a nice caprese and a great polenta dish (which is the Ticino specialty) with braised beef goulash served over it. The bad side of the hike sort of faded away and I was just so pleased to be right where I was, somewhere I couldn't have planned to end up.

Gandria itself turned out to be teeny tiny and practically spilling into the lake. We figured out this was our chance to get out on the water and bought tickets for the next boat back to Lugano. There were two restaurants right by the boat dock, each with a large back patio filled with happy diners. There was a man playing accordion in one patio and a few people were dancing. Including the chef! It was all very charming. The small waiting area we had filled with people as we waited most of an hour for the next boat. Scoring seats on the outer deck or even by a window was out of the question, so it wasn't the best boat ride but it got us back to our luggage quickly. During the 20 minute boat ride I saw little hotels and restaurants along the water. I wouldn't actually recommend staying in Lugano, if I were going back I'd stay somewhere just out of town and on the lake. This was a happy little paradise.

We hadn't learned much from our wander the day before and getting back to the train station didn't go so well. The good part was getting another gelato, I tried to order two fruit flavors together: melon and strawberry. However, my pronunciation of "melone" sounded too much like "marroni" and we ended up with creamy chestnut! CF was a good sport and ate most of the erroneous cone while I had chocolate and hazelnut. We ended up climbing a terrible flight of stairs, between CF carrying our shared suitcase and my blown out legs we were very unhappy. We just caught a train though, so we didn't have to wait at the station once we were there. Maybe we should have waited, the timing of our departure meant that we were on a route that required a train change. And oh what a change it was. A whole slew of people ran from our train to our new one just across the platform and we found one very full train. The older gentleman who had crossed the platform found a seat and I was glad for him. We were not so lucky, so we started walking towards the other end of the train, one car at a time. There were no seats to be seen. We passed some open space where two people had settled on just standing, my gut told me this was the best we were going to do but for some reason we kept going. A bunch of people in front of us just gave up and decided to stand in an exit way, leaving us bottle-necked behind them in the aisle. The seated passengers were started to look up at us annoyed by our semi-hovering. There was an Indian family behind us who were budging when we turned around hoping to go back. I guess they thought they could somehow move forward? We squished through them and then found a man standing in the aisle holding a dog. And he wouldn't budged either. It was all very weird and suddenly the language barrier seemed worse than ever, when you find yourself in a bind and needing of some extra understanding it is best if you can at least ask for help nicely. CF lifted the suitcase up, trying to lift it over his head so he could get past this man with the dog. The train car rattled a bit, CF stumbled and BAM, went our suitcase into the face of a man in the seat next to this hot mess. I was horrified. CF, who had been insisting on using his Italian all day poured out apologies in English. What an awful moment. We mostly just kept walking, we needed out of that car. We got back to the open space and found a little corner to lean in. I found looking out the window of the exit door fascinating but riding while standing up was making CF motion-sick. I'm not quite sure how long we rode like this, but finally there was a stop that was fairly big and enough people left so we were able to snag seats. The train car was muggy and smelled awful. Why is Sunday travel always so miserable? We could not have been happier to arrive back in Zürich that evening. We take the good with the bad, and this trip included that incredible view, challenging hike and rewarding meal so we did our best to shake off the terrible train ride. However we did agree that we needed to reserve seats when traveling on Sundays whenever possible from here on out!

Small World

A long, long time ago I said I was going to tell you about the small number of degrees that seem to separate the people I meet here. Now, that's not too many people really, but it is clear to see that while a large percentage of Zürich are expats (I've heard anywhere from 20 to 30%), the overlap in social circles is huge. CF let me know a while back about the spouses group made up of people (I won't lie, it's all women) from around the world. I've met great ladies from England, Scotland, Finland, France, Germany, Hungary, Sweden, Australia, and yes, even a few from the US. Sitting at my first coffee with them I realized that one of them knows some of the bloggers I had been following since learning we'd be coming here. Bloggers often reference other blogs with links, and clicking away from one I'm subscribed to I quickly came to a reference to one of the spouses I had met via email before moving here, but unfortunately for me she was moving back to California right around the same time. This spouse is also a blogger (are you confused yet?), and she told me I should meet up with yet another blogger who was moving back to Zürich, having lived her for a number of years not too long ago. She and I had coffee one day, she showed me where to get the best cappuccinos in town, and then it turns out that someone who works for the company from which I quit to come here was her college roommate. It almost seems silly sometimes how everyone knows everyone.

The catch is that the expat community is also likely to move on. People are more than courteous but real relationships are hard to establish when you know that chances are high that your new friend will move on. I've pretty much have come to see myself as a lousy candidate for "friend." I disappear almost every weekend and I know already that I'm only here a year. I have no expectations of anyone really reaching out to me. That being said, everyone is so nice. It's a great support system!

Even our friends from the great night out with Italian food and beer have moved back to California, they were here for two and a half years and were ready to go home. Luckily, another part of this small world theme is visits from friends from California. The internet seems to be keeping me connected with my friends and family via instant message chatting, Facebook status updates, and video conferencing (I can already see how my little niece has changed since I last saw her in person). Every so often I start to feel out of touch and somehow that ends up being the day I Skype with my mom or exchange snarky comments on Flickr with Mr. Bertha (FYI, he told me to call him this, long story involving a Lady) and then I feel okay with the world again.

And while we're on the topic of the world and whatever size it is. Here's a gorgeous sunset as seen from our balcony. The weather has gone colder and I miss eating dinner out there already! Wait until you compare the view we saw just a few weeks later!

Feeling at Home

After the late delivery of our air shipment our expectations were not too high for when we'd see our surface shipment. I'm happy to report it was delivered on the last day of the original window we were given, so it wasn't late! And on top of that nothing arrived damaged, broken, or even missing! We quickly unpacked as many boxes as possible as the movers assembled the guest bed, that way they could take away the cardboard boxes. Cardboard recycling only happens once a month here and we just didn't want to have to deal with it. I spent the entire day unwrapping paper and putting things away. CF helped with the kitchen in the evening. We were left with a fully stocked kitchen but we also brought quite a lot of our own favorites. We packed up a number of their things using the paper and boxes that had just brought our things to us, and those boxes are being carefully stored in the attic (and one in the basement) while we put our year of wear and tear onto our own pots and pans. The apartment took a huge step towards feeling like home with the addition of some of our things and furniture. It really is a great space, I love it here.

Invigorated by the completion of our "move" I went out to the market the next morning and came home with, along with produce for the week, a bundle of branches with two different kinds of berries and leaves. I noticed people leaving with these bundles before I even got to Bürkliplatz. This guy with a van full of the greenery was making arrangements on the fly. It seemed ever so shady, but lots of people were buying so why shouldn't I? I loved the look of them even more once they were displayed on my dining table. A much bigger arrangement than I could ever stomach if it were flowers, the branches reached up towards our ridiculously high ceilings. I was obsessed with them for days and started photographing them repeatedly. You'll be seeing a lot of them in this post as I have little else to illustrate it with!

Finally feeling at home in my apartment it was time to make the most important connection with my city. I had meant to join a gym the moment I touched down here but I got sick and then I visited the rather bare-bones gym just down the street and wasn't quite sure what to do. There was a sign up that appeared to outlaw shorts and tank-tops there! I finally heeded the advice of the many nice expats who had ALL recommended Fitness Park and went to check it out. The cardio equipment was all purchased this summer, no sign of an overly modest dress code, and a hamam downstairs! Haman is a Turkish bath, which sounds like heaven while anticipating the coldest winter of my life. Back in California this summer I was talking to my chiropractor about looking for familiar services over here. He suggested looking for a gym with lots of perks so people will be hanging around, since I wouldn't be working it might be a place to make some connections and friends. "Look for a place that has a juice bar, that's what you need!" So I suppose I should have just handed over my money when I came upon just that while I toured the gym. I tried to resist the pricier gym but in the end I signed up for their 12-month membership.

My first workout there was rather amusing. I somehow hadn't even thought about the fact that I could barely read a word of German and didn't know much about converting miles-per-hour to kilometers-per-hour, not to mention what my weight in kilograms would be or how many of them I could lift! I faked my way through cardio machine programming as best as I could and enjoyed sweating after being cold for what felt like a long time. I had to get used to the fact that here I am the exception to the rule, and the few "overly naked European women" encountered at the locker room back at Gold's are now the majority. I was so uncomfortable with locker rooms before, I used to borrow CF's cellphone so I could set an alarm earlier than everyone else's on band road trips so I could get up and use the showers before the other girls got up. I think I made it through my entire band career showering alone. Now, this is a fancy gym so there is just enough privacy, but with everyone else being so relaxed about it I guess it was hard not to follow suit. And I can't help but admit that with a body that I sometimes feel hangs off of me like a deflated balloon, it's been comforting to witness many different body types. Nobody's "perfect." After sweating and a nice warm shower the cold air outside feels refreshing instead of daunting. Sometimes I even walk home, or at least part of the way.

At the end of my first week at the gym I decided it was time to brave spin class. I introduced myself to the teacher, "Grüezi, hello, I'm new to the gym but I'm not new to spinning. So I'll watch you carefully and I should be able to follow the class just fine." I was met with a skeptical and slightly amused look. As nice as this gym is, it is located in a city so space is not totally unlimited. There is only one class room so the bikes are stored along one side of the room. I dragged my bike out and got ready to ride. I tried to ignore the couple other skeptical looks I was getting, I realized I was back to being the biggest person in class. Man, there are some skinny Swiss girls! Well, talk about feeling at home! It barely mattered one bit that I couldn't understand what he was saying. There are three hand positions in spinning, and I knew how to count from one to three, so I could follow that. I watched the person riding next to me for whether to turn the gear up or down and pretty soon I figured out what "lower" and "more" sounded like. The teacher kept a careful eye on me, but about 15 minutes in gave me a huge smile. I guess I had proved myself that quickly. When I couldn't understand what he was saying I would just smile and sort of imagine something DD would be saying in class back at home. The class was a breeze, and afterwards we all grabbed paper towels and spray bottles and cleaned off our bikes. This could never happen at home, the next class would be rushing in. In Zürich there are about as many spin classes in a week as Gold's would have in a day. As I waited for a chance to grab some paper towels the teacher came over and started grilling me about spin in California. Do they pay attention to heart rate zones? Do they just go crazy fast? What kind of music did we listen to? Any recommended music? Can you give me this recommended music? It felt great that I had disproved the assumptions I had encountered here. And I was yet again making friends with the spin teacher. Some things are just the same wherever you go!

The Good, The Bad and The Lovely

The Good... I found CF's peanut butter! He insists on the kind that is only 100% peanuts (I agree that it's best). This earned him a PB related nickname from the hostess of our favorite NYC lodging two years ago when she asked what we'd like stocked for breakfast. She had to hunt it down at the health food store, and then got hooked on it herself. When we learned we'd be coming here he mentioned he was concerned there would be no peanut butter, but then he saw it at the office when he was here in July so he said he was no longer worried. Well, all the groceries stores have one of two brands that include added sugar, salt and oil. Even Jelmoli and Globus which are known for being good resources for expats to get food products they miss from home. So today I found myself face to face with a health good store and I have it a try. I quickly found a number of nut butters and was going to at least pick up some of that, but then I spotted the peanut butter. Mission accomplished!

The Bad... I stopped in front of said health food store because I needed to stop and sigh after walking out of Kiehl's. My skin is drying out from the sudden cold and I needed some extra exfoliation help so I went looking for a body scrub. I didn't know until the moment I was handing over my credit card that I was paying three times as much as it would have cost at home. Whoops! Tally Kiehl's up under "Things that are more expensive here," (believe it or not, there are some things that are less expensive here) and I'll enjoy my liquid gold.

And The Lovely... I went to meet CF for dinner at work tonight, I hadn't seen the office before now. It had started raining late in the afternoon so I didn't go out quite as early as I had planned, I was going to go on a bit of a photowalk since I haven't done much shooting in Zürich yet. But once it was time to head to dinner I slipped on my trench coat, newly arrived in the air shipment. I love this coat, it felt good to put it back on. I hopped on the shuttle bus that's running on our street while the tram line is all torn up, and switched to a tram at Bahnhofquai. It was one of the old cars, with little wooden seats. We rattled down the Bahnhofstrasse, with the sun going down, the lights coming on, city people out and about on their way home from work, meeting for drinks or stopping to shop. It was charming and I melted into the moment.... and I realized right then that I had just fallen for the city.

How do you say "foodie" in Swiss-German?

Hooray! Our air freight finally arrived yesterday. CF sent a stern email on Sunday evening and suddenly they were ready to deliver. Hmmmm. Well, we're just going to appreciate that we have more of our stuff here now. Including our hiking shoes and my trenchcoat and great rain jacket that sort of matches CF's. Ummm, I'm ready for my cheese hike now! Drat!

We also got some of our kitchen stuff. A fully stocked kitchen was left in place by our gracious hosts from whom we are subletting, but we still brought plenty of our stuff so we can use familiar tools and also spare their belongings some of a year's worth of wear. It's going to be a bit tricky to figure out where everything goes and I almost don't want to deal with it until the bigger shipment arrives, which may or may not be next week. I'm not getting my hopes up again!

I have to say, I haven't quite gotten the hang of our kitchen. The fridge is small, the foods less processed... you can't buy too much or it's just going to go bad. But at the same time I feel like I am constantly buying groceries. I think I will learn to balance this better as time goes on. This awkward stage, along with the fact that the foods we've been eating are just different from the routine things I tended to buy at home, has led me to have some weird moments of not feeling satisfied by anything I eat. It's weird, I can't explain it. Maybe it's again related to not feeling like I'm traveling but not feeling like I'm at home either? It's starting to get better though.

I've been cooking up a storm lately. We've been enjoying plenty of fresh produce, much of it is Swiss but there are also items from Italy and Spain. There's basil growing on our balcony. The cheese is all fantastic whether it comes from the market or the cheese counter or the plain cheese section of the grocery store. Dried and cured meats are very popular, prosciutto everywhere, I love it. I've been trying to use the ingredients left behind, as well as experimenting with items rounded up from my many grocery shopping trips. Last week I faked my way through stuff pasta, I found the tubes in our pantry. I cooked up ground beef, stirred in ricotta, stuffed it in the tubes, drenched it all in sauce and covered it in shredded mozzarella... didn't know what I was doing but how could I really go wrong? This week I faked my way through lasagna, which was a tiny bit more tricky. I browned the meat, I broiled eggplant that needed using, I sauteed shallots and spinach in another pan, decided to combine the spinach and meat as well as the ricotta, then needed to season the crushed tomatoes I was using as sauce so washed the little pan I had cooked the beef in and got that going, didn't really have the right spices so that was frustrating (I've since purchased crushed red pepper, garlic powder and onion powder), then realized I couldn't read the pasta box and wasn't sure these were no-boil but took a chance (whew, they were!), settled on putting down a thin layer of sauce, a layer of noodles, the eggplant, the meat/cheese/veggie mixture, a second layer of noodles, the rest of the sauce and then shredded mozzarella, I baked it about as long as the stuffed pasta (that box had included English so I knew I could stuff the dried tubes)... and somehow after all this madness I actually got a pretty good lasagna, it just had a little too much black pepper in the sauce. Whew!

Also in the same kitchen and sort of at the same time, I made a dessert to bake. I got the idea over at Geeks in Zürich. Italian Prune Plums had seemed sort of familiar, turns out we used to have a tree when I was little, and they're all over the place right now. Zwetschgen, as they are known here, are smaller than other plums and pit very easily. I followed the same recipe as Mama Geek, although I had no measuring cups and I didn't know if what I had in the pantry was brown sugar or something else but it tasted pretty close. You just cut up the plums and sugar them a little. Mix ground walnuts, flour, sugar and cinnamon (it asked for cardamom but I don't have any here) with some melted butter, and blend it with a fork. Pour the mix on top of the fruit and bake it for most of an hour. I think I used too much of the dry ingredients and therefore not quite enough butter, the topping didn't look as pretty as it could have. But man, was it delicious! CF has maybe never been more impressed with something I've cooked. We happened to have a little vanilla ice cream to have with it. Cooking by the seat of my pants seems to be working out just fine.

Back to Before

Whoops! I forgot I was going to post a bit about how I spent my time before leaving.

The day I put CF on a plane to Zürich I went out with some friends in San Francisco. The DP's planned a fantastic outing for KZ and me to enjoy while our husbands were in different countries (PZ was in India). CF and I had actually met up earlier that week with the DP's for sushi in Half Moon Bay and PDP had the idea to go to Slanted Door for dinner on Saturday. Now, I knew KZ had been dying to go there so of course we had to make it happen. The best reservation we could get was quite late but we decided to go for it. We didn't tell KZ where we were going but we guessed it and guessed right. So of course we had to throw her off. We were having cocktails before dinner at one bar and then switched to a restaurant (Can I just say that I will miss the current cocktail trends in SF, basil and lillet blanc seem to be in every other drink!) and told KZ that was where we would be dining. Then when it was time to actually go to the Slanted Door P told her our table was ready and then we ran up the stairs and out the door. She was so confused so we finally spilled the beans. She was sooo excited. It was great fun. Then we proceeded to eat and drink away our cares. You can always tell that I've had far too much to drink when I stop being subtle with my camera. I was snapping away with the flash on. Shameful! It caught up with the me the next day though. I didn't get to enjoy my breakfast until about 3pm when I could finally bring myself to eat more than a few bites. Thanks for a fab time DP's!

Then I headed down to San Diego to visit the Niece and her parents. She is beyond adorable and we had a great time playing with my computer. My sister was a bit terrified with how much I let her touch the keys, I'm sure I'm not making her efforts any easier, sorry L! We ended up on Skype with CF a couple of times and the Niece and he would launch into a hilarious routine of exchanging kisses. This involves him kissing at his webcam so his lips would fill the screen and then she would kiss towards him on the screen, which mean that my webcam could only catch the top of her head. All CF could see was crazy blonde curls fluttering back and forth. Soooo cute! She knows an amazing number of words: names, numbers, colors, etc... and she can read some of them too. And I'm not just being a biased aunt when I say that she is absolutely gorgeous. I think she attracts a lot of attention and people on street like to say "Hi!" in a drawn out, high pitched baby voice. So she's now taken to waving to people and saying "Hiiiiiiii!" with a little voice that sounds something like a southern belle. I'm so glad I got to go spend some time with her before leaving the country. Apparently after I left she was pointing towards their computer and asking for CF, and when she was trying to talk on the phone with my brother she was a bit thrown off by not being able to see him as well. We've already video chatted with her once from here in Switzerland and she did a repeat performance of the kissy exchange and also "beeped" our noses for us a few times. I had noticed in August that she didn't seem phased at all to see CF in the computer, but I wondered if she was a little confused as to how I was there now too. Oh, the things kids' brains have to learn these days!

My last week at home was packed full of socializing and lots of meals out. I got to see a lot of friends and really wrapped up a successful summer of connecting with the people I care about. The Saturday before I went to see UC Davis play San Jose State. The football game didn't turn out the way we would have liked, but it was perfect to get to see people one last time before I left. I just hated the moment it was over and suddenly people turned to me to say goodbye, the thing I had been putting off all summer. Riding back home with the DP's I asked if we could grab some dinner, I had very little food at home. We stopped for a burger, which totally hit the spot and seemed quite appropriate for one of my last meals in the States for a while. PDP said, "That's a big smile, M." "Well, I'm a happy girl."

The day after that my parents and brother came to visit and we went out to my favorite Mexican restaurant, Hola, to celebrate T's birthday. The food was all incredible (we all picked out great dishes), we had lots of good margaritas, we had a great time. The family helped me go through the house and look for any loose ends to tie up. Thank goodness my sister and her family were coming just a few days after I left so they could fix up anything I failed to get done! I had to say goodbye to my parents but T spent the night, graciously sleeping on the couch. We went for a nice walk on the Bay Trail the next day and watched plenty of No Reservations (which by the way, we have been watching via the iTunes Store in the week I've been here, makes me feel right at home!). Then I had to put him on a train back to Davis.

Once I was alone is when all hell broke lose... which takes us back to where the first post I wrote today started. All my readers back at home are going to wake up to a whole lot of babbling to catch up with on their Tuesday morning!

Welcome to Zürich

The journey was over but the transition was just beginning. CF's challenge was to keep me awake until at least 9pm. So after the shower and snack it was time to head out and get some errands done. It was a gorgeous, sunny day... something I saw very little of in the week we were here last year.

We walked down the hill to a transit ticket booth, and right away I purchased an annual Zone 10 transit pass, and a half-fare card to discount other travel within Switzerland. Months earlier when I was renewing my passport I had gone to get new pictures taken at The Picture People, a kids' portrait shop at the mall. My old passport still had my maiden name (with an official ammendment in the back that I was tired of having to tell people to turn to) and my photo wasn't even flattering at the time (and weight) it was taken. LN, who I worked with at the store, had used to work for them and she had talked about having to take passport photos and all the rules surrounding them. I figured I stood a better chance of taking a good photo if I went somewhere with proper lighting and camera lenses. It didn't cost too much but the smallest set they sold was 4 photos. I was annoyed to have to buy twice as many as I needed but went with it anyway. The result is now that I have a passport with a photo that gets compliments, I used a third photo to apply for my visa, and upon arriving in Zürich I found a need for the final photo, I turned it in for my tram pass. Nice!

Then we hopped on a tram and rode back up our hill and went to the immigration office to get me registered. I couldn't help but giggle a little bit when they confirmed my "family name." They know how to pronounce it here! That's not even my name anymore but somehow this made me feel like a little bit more of an insider. We even made it over to the bank before they closed. CF had opened a bank account and we wanted to add my name to it. This went a bit lost in translation and we filled out all new paperwork before we all realized that the banker hadn't understood that he wanted to add me to the account he already had. Hopefully we got this straightened out, I'm currently waiting for my cards.

With all of our errands done before 6pm we decided to catch a tram down to the river and walk down to the lake. When we got off the tram I felt the sun beating down on my mostly bare shoulders and scolded myself a bit for not putting on my sunscreen. But in the time that it took to walk to the lake the weather had already started to turn. My arms went cold as the breeze picked up but it also started to feel a bit muggy. I tried to shake it off (as our travel saying goes, but then, I'm not really traveling) and agreed to sit down to some dinner at a fun looking place near the water that CF had been to in July.

Suddenly the clouds all rushed forward, the water went immediately choppy, and the umbrella shielding the man at the restaurant's outdoor grill from falling leaves toppled over onto a customer! This California girl's eye went wide, I have never seen such an extreme change in the weather. We scrambled with our fellow diners into the restaurant. Where no one had been selecting to sit just a minute earlier, all the tables were now full. It worked out quite nicely though, one table for two for us, one long row of tables for the large group, and several four-tops for the families. Everyone went about their business while the staff collected anything from the outside tables that could blow away (which appeared to be everything).

I recalled the moment back at the apartment when I was deciding what to carry with me and CF had said I wouldn't need my umbrella but had then remarked, "Of course, now that I've said that you will." And I had pretended that he hadn't said any of it, a sleepy moment of bad decision making. We enjoyed a salad and pizza while the rain started to come down all around the tiny restaurant. We ordered another round of drinks, hoping to give the rain some time to come up with a break. We took what we could get and scurried off in a drizzle. We caught one tram to Bellevue, the hub of trams that we stayed near last year. The next tram we'd take would basically get us home. So we thought it wouldn't hurt to run into Coop for a little dessert. Just before we entered the store the rain picked back up, drat. Inside we picked out a Lindt chocolate bar filled with caramel and fig (are they selling this in the States?) and I decided to pick out a decent looking bottle of port (I was itching to try some more). We also got some of the official garbage bags that you have to use to put out your trash, CF had bought the wrong ones on his first try. We ran back out to the tram stop and luckily didn't have to wait too long for our ride.

It wouldn't be long before I'd be soaking in a hot bath with the lavendar salts I'd picked up after reading Holly's travel tips on Haus Maus followed by curling up on the huge Italian black leather sofa listening to moody Cat Power music, sipping port and nibbling on cheese, fruit and chocolate. Basically from the moment I found out we'd be coming here, this is what I had been picturing. The only thing standing between me and that perfect scenario was the short distance from the tram stop to our apartment. Months of preparation along with hours of airplane travel and sleep deprevation came down to this. The pouring rain soaked through my sandals, capris and sleeveless top as I ran and a little voice inside my head said: "Welcome to Zürich, always carry an umbrella, dumbass."

(A different kind of) Ladies who lunch.

I spent a lovely day in San Francisco yesterday. I met up with three wonderful ladies for lunch at MarketBar at the Ferry Building. Well, there were four of us eventually, poor NR trekked down from Sacramento and had a bit of parking trouble before switching to BART. I indulged in a fantastic BLT and pomme frites, which will be my inspiration to keep going when I want to quit before my 30 minutes of running are up later today. Or maybe it will be the Miette cupcake I had with NR after our other two lunching ladies had to go back to work. We grabbed some coffee, having both slept in and not managed to have any before lunch and headed out back to enjoy the view. Here's a photo I found of someone having a similar experience, I've admired those cupcakes for so long, I'm pretty excited to have had one. The cake is bittersweet chocolate and the frosting is marshmallowy meringue goodness. Have I ever mentioned that although I prefer dark chocolate and hate overly sweet things, for some reason I have a soft spot (perhaps literally) for marshmallow? After undoing all the good several miles of running had done in the past couple days, we headed further into the city and managed to do just a small bit of shopping. We wound up having a drink at Zazil in the Shopping Centre and just enjoyed getting to chat in person. Something I don't get to do with certain friends nearly enough. I'm really relishing time spent like this right now. I'm so grateful for a summer full of good times with good friends.

I have to say, I know some pretty amazing women. I'm not going to discuss their personal lives on my blog, but all three of my friends at lunch yesterday have incredibly cool stuff going on in their lives right now. We met online while planning weddings but real and valuable friendships were born. Another thing I am very grateful for.

Preparations for heading to Zurich continue to go well. We keep thinking we're procrastinating or misbehaving when we run off to Davis for the night (like we did last week, pretty much just to see two friends' bands play), go on another stock-up shopping spree or take the time to watch way too many episodes of No Reservations. But really, we've done a good job planning and everything is going smoothly... so far, knock on wood. After slinking back home in the early afternoon on Saturday ("Gotta get up early and head home, sorry we can't stay longer, mom!" Sheesh!) we got to sorting out what was going into our shipping container. We had to decide what was too heavy to get to Switzerland any other way, and what could we stand to do without for most of two months. Once I started making that division in my wardrobe, it was basically all over. Reality is setting in, this is happening soon! We got through a good deal of our stuff on Saturday so Sunday became yet another shopping day. Most of the loot we brought home came from REI, I now own hiking shoes, and the rain shell I've avoided buying on the past two trips to Europe because "I'll never wear it at home." Oh, how life can change. CF is too good to me and offered to pay and not let me see how much we spent. He knows me so well! We finished our sorting easily Sunday evening and were totally ready for them when they showed up on Monday morning.

They brought the whole damn twenty-foot shipping container to our house! It filled the street! Not. Subtle. To make matters worse the postman pulled up and started asking loudly if the house was vacant, or were we moving. Not. Helping. I think the container was at least half empty when they finished. And we probably could have done without half of what we sent! We're taking a bunch of our kitchen stuff, but they are leaving most of theirs. I took more books than I've probably read in the past ten years, how many do I really think I'm going to read this year? Oh well, at least I didn't have to decide right now. So that's on it's way. The air freight will go shortly after CF does. And we'll both be packing up two suitcases, at least. Eventually we'll get everything there. Including me. I'll be there in less than a month! Eek!

Bliss

Last month we went to two very different, but both very exciting and wonderful weddings.

The first was our friends J&M's. Last year when I learned of their engagement I offered to do invitations for them, and I ended up doing place cards and table numbers for them. It was nice to be a part of such a cool wedding. Our circle of friends went through a couple of years with so many weddings I think we got tired of them, it was awful sneaky of these guys to hold out until we were starved for the occasion! Even I, who had claimed to be "so over weddings" after years of wedding design and working with brides, was looking forward to this event for weeks.

Everyone showed up looking so good, even in the heat. The ceremony set the tone for what was a really fun, happy wedding. CF and I sat near the back, a friend of the groom's was playing 80's love songs on piano up front. Three things happened all at once, I couldn't decide what made me more happy between them all, I was overwhelmed with joy. I turned around and saw J&M starting down the aisle together, arm and arm. How appropriate for our favorite long time daters who have already made such a wonderful life together. And she was looking absolutely radiant in a wedding dress of vibrant red satin. Then the piano started pounding out the introduction to Just Like Heaven. I was beaming brighter than I probably ever managed at my own wedding. It was perfection. Sorry to gush.

A moment of eye contact with the bride made me remember where I was, and I think I probably tried to snap a photo with my silly point-and-shoot digital (which I now regretted bringing in place of my baby, the Rebel). The couple arrived at the front of the room and stood there for a long silent moment. Each of them had one honor attendant who scurried over to them, they whispered to each other for a while, apparently I missed the best man's cellphone ringing, and suddenly the bride cried, "WHAT?!?!"

The groom turned to the crowd and simply said, "No officiant!" We all gasped. People had suspected they might pull something like this. Either they were actually already married or they weren't really going to do it... they just wanted the party. Those sitting near me started smiling at each other knowingly. "We've been dating a long time, and would really like to get married today! Soooo... can anyone here do it?"

Long. Pause.

Mr. PZ raises his hand and stands up. It had actually been planned all along, he was legally deputized for the day just as RS was when he married S&SB. Sneaky! P performed a short but sweet ceremony and then it was on to the reception. We all filed out of the small room we had been packed into and people immediately accused me of being in on the surprise! "Ummm no, I just made the place cards, although this explains why they didn't want to do any ceremony programs!" A few people were sure I would have known. Then KZ walked up exclaiming, "Oh my god!" She didn't even know! So there. Someone later declared that if we learned one thing it was that PZ can keep a secret. True.

The next weekend we attended the wedding of my former coworker and sometimes twin, KM... who is now KS! I had been getting rather concerned about her family's involvement with the wedding. Her divorced parents were footing more of the bill than her so she was having a hard time laying down the law when it came to making decisions and compromises. She vented to me over instant messaging frequently and I gave her the best advice I could. I told her to concentrate on what the day was going to mean to her and her husband-to-be. That weddings have the unfortunate habit of bringing out the worst in people and the best thing she could do for people who were letting insecurities get the best of them was to let it go because they were only going to feel bad about it later. And they WILL feel bad about it later. So do them the favor now of just not taking it seriously, if at all possible. I hope I gave her something to focus on. I like to think I helped in some way other than just designing her invitation.

I have to give her major credit. It was gorgeous wedding. A very cool, affordable outdoors venue that had lots of nice visual touches. Plus they added so much to it with K's impeccable planning and execution. It was a more traditional wedding than what we saw the weekend before, but this girl got through all the family drama and had a dream wedding day. I would not presume that my words were what got her through, but watching her smile that day I felt like I had at least been justified.

Both these brides dazzled me with their incredible naturalness. When I spoke to both of them on their respective days, it was amazing to me how they were just themselves. Not distracted, not a bit insincere, and anything but awkward. Thinking about it now I'm still not sure how they did it but I think it has a lot to do with knowing who you are, what you want and what's important. They just dripped happiness and I soaked it up.

The grooms were cool too. But that's more of a given with guys like J and R. ;)

I've learned a lot about weddings in the years since I got hitched to CF. I can't complain too much, but I have to say, there is a lot I would do differently if I were doing it now. I think it's less of a shame that I had to get married in a size 26 (or was it 28?) gown then it is how uncomfortable I was in my own skin. CF and I have grown and changed together of the years... what really counts is that we're happy, healthy and comfortable now. But it's sort of sad that neither of us care much for our rather expensive wedding photos and I cringe at just the memory of video footage of me that day. If we ever have the opportunity for a do-over, I'm taking what I've learned from all the weddings we've been to since and all the confidence and clarity that have come to me in the years since and you will just have to wait and see what happens!