Cafeteria Craziness!!

Today, our cafeteria options were a bit...more unusual than normal. They always are strange, what with offerings that are sort of like what I'm used to, but not quite...like rhubarb pie, but made with giant chunks of rhubarb sticking out like a crystal rock formation. Or the 'rice', which is really split-wheat-like, less the flavor. Or soup, but made out of watermelons...ok, that one's not really what I'm used to at all...

But today was the craziest food day I've seen so far! Everyone was buzzing about the main offering: mussels and french fries! I am NOT kidding. And, yes, it is a combo plate (I had to ask): french fries (quite normal actually), with a steaming hot pile of boiled mussels, right in their yickity shells. It was tempting, but I ultimately decided to see what else awaited me. My other choices were rabbit in a curry sauce, or ostrich in a pineapple chutney. I do love pineapple...and how bad could ostrich be? They are hardly friendly at all, while eating a rabbit might make me too sad. So ostrich it was.

It all turned out not so bad...the ostrich was pretty tasty, although a bit chewy. The french fries made it all better. Hopefully tomorrow we'll be back to the regular veal, chicken or goulash offerings...

British Airways: BA stands for Bad Attitude

A quick story about our return flight from London, on British Airways, which I thought to be the most reputable airline of the entire sky. First, we get to their gate, to find the BA sign torn off the wall for no good reason, dirty carpet and really a dreadful area in general. The gate crew shows up 30 minutes before the flight is due to leave, but make no announcement about delays, etc. Everyone but us being European, no one even questions it. Another 20 minutes goes by, and still nothing. No one seems to care - passengers or flight crew.

An elderly woman goes up to the gate and inquires about a flight that was supposed to be leaving from our gate. The crew member nonchalantly says, "oh, that gate was changed from 23 (current) to 1", and leaves it at that. The poor woman had about 30 minutes to make her flight and literally had to walk across the entire airport to get there. The attendant didn't offer to call ahead for her, arrange a travel cart, or anything else - it was really dispicable to watch him treat a poor old woman like that.

Back to our own flight - about 5 minutes before the scheduled departure, one of the gate crew people yells out "If you are on the flight to Geneva, you can get on the plane now!". No overhead PA - just literally yelling. No preboarding. If you are elderly or disabled, tough luck. If you have kids and need extra time to board, too bad. Everyone bumrushes the gate and on we go, which seemed so wrong! I've flown on quite a few Euro airlines, and this was really the worst attitude I've seen anywhere. On the bright side, the flight crew were the usual chipper British lot and shared free wine and beer....net, I guess we came out even. But, next time, I'm definitely flying EasyJet!

Ode to a Silver Trainer

Today I ventured out into Geneva alone to do some girl shopping - ie, the mall! It was finally a beautiful weekend in Geneva - not too hot, not raining, and we weren't out of town. I managed to hit a nice number of stores, but my favorite interaction of the day was when I went into a sporting goods place to buy a new pair of trainers. My usual approach going into a store the first time is to skulk to the back and watch people to see where what I need can be found without the obvious 'foreigner wandering around' signals that result in uncomfortable foreign-language interactions. In this store, the layout was tricky - were the shoes all in one section, or separated into Mens and Womens? If separated, how would I know if I was looking at the right section? And heaven forbid, what if they have kid's shoes too?

I deciphered that shoes were all in one section, and started looking for 'womens', but no luck. Sometimes it was obvious - at least if pink shoes still don't appeal to the majority of the male population, but I was still a bit lost. Finally, my worst fear occurred - a salesperson came up and started chatting me up in French. I use my one and favorite response "Desole - parle un peu francais". To my delight, the salesperson responded "That is good. I speak little English". Whew!

Together we proceeded to find me a new pair of shoes - more difficult than you might imagine. First, we had to communicate and agree on my criteria. For some sweet reason, he thought I was in need of running shoes, but my excellent mimicry of 'elliptical', 'treadmill' and 'walking' (my favorite - in slow motion!) got the message across. But how to communicate my key criteria: "I don't want anything that looks obnoxious on my feet OR makes my feet look big and clown-like". I remembered that I have memorized most colors now in French, so "no red, no blue, no black, but white is very good" hit its mark. "Clown-like" is not a word I've learned yet, so we tackled that one subjectively as we went along.

Our conversation included such topics as the amount of gel cushion in the sole of the shoe, the merit of gel vs silicone cushioning, why you should leave space for your toes, and why a squishy heel isn't the best sign of support. I learned more about trainers from a French 17 yo kid than I ever did in the US. In the end, I walked away with a very snazzy pair of ASICs, which have the bonus of being white, silver and a little navy. They even have this space-age reinforcement on the bottom that sort of reminds me of Terminator 2. I am dubbing them my astronaut shoes and plan to break them in this week before walking all over London next weekend. Of course, now I remember one of my favorite shoe stores is in London - but I can now walk there in the ultimate comfort before blowing more money on adorable but non-gel-supportive shoes!

German Border Patrol

After a business trip to Frankfurt, I was cruising through German passport control on the way home. As per usual, I expected the usual humorless, suspicious, authoritative agent to greet me. I went up to the counter, and say "Gutentag", to which the PP guy replies, 'oh, do you speak German?" I have to answer no. He sternly demands "Why not? You are in Germany, are you not?" While I stand there and look a bit frightened, he and the other PP guy in the booth look at each and start laughing. The second guy goes on to ask me like 3 questions in German, and then they laugh every time I fumble to understand what he is asking - but I can't tell if their laughter is "haha, we will toss her ass in the brig" or "haha those stupid Americans are such chumps". Finally I tell them I have no idea what they are asking, but whatever it was, I didn't do it. Then they both laugh again (still no idea why), AND I got a stamp (!)....and bewilderingly I was waved on.....

Paris Photos

Catching up, and will post news soon about our trip to Paris last weekend, Swiss "Independence Day", and my first 16-hour whirlwind trip to Germany....in the meanwhile, take a look at my Paris pictures.

Sad Realization, probably part 1

I have just realized that two important things are absolutely, completely missing/non-existent here in Geneva, both of which I think are required for happy living.....ranch dressing.....and....peanut butter. Sigh. How could people live a quality life without peanut butter?

Where Does It All Go?

One benefit of not going to Italy this weekend (if there can be such a thing??) is the practical availability of time to unpack all of our furniture and household goods that were shipped here via ocean freight from California. Doing this has been sort of an unworldly experience, for two reasons.

First, even though we have a fairly large house by Swiss standards...nothing fits! I had a gigantic kitchen with oodles of storage in California - perfect for my equivalent of a Crate and Barrel kitchen section I have thanks in large part to 'donations' from Grandmother over the years. Here's an example of my downsizing requirements. In San Diego, the kitchen had six drawers. In Geneva, we have ONE drawer. Period. One. Seriously? One?!!? I'm clearly 'creatively challenged' to find places for all of these things. But, I'm good at that...so it'll work out.

The second ephiphany has been: never let your husband supervise packing alone, at any cost. Here is a list of items I have unpacked (so far) that have bewildered me. Really.
1. Half of a box of Cheerios yes, opened, and yes, carefully shipped in a crate on the ocean. Anyone interested?
2. A small bundle of unmatched socks. What are the odds we will really find their partners here?
3. An empty jar of pasta sauce. Fully sealed, it apparently just couldn't stand to stay behind on its' own.
4. Dirty laundry. Please!
5. Empty grocery bags. Now, I know what you are thinking - maybe that was a proactive move. Yeah, my husband doesn't think like that....but nice try!

If anyone can top this in their moves - please leave a comment - I'm looking for some reassurance!

Sciorpero!!

We have been in Switerland for over a month now and still no big weekend excursions such as I have mandated (to myself) as a stipulation for living here. So, last weekend, I decided: Basta (yes, my love for Italian transcends even the French lessons I am taking...plus, I don't yet know how to say 'enough!' in French!). A few sufficency checks reveal: Milan is only a 5 hour train ride away. It's cheap to get there, cheap to stay, and aside from fantastic shopping, many things to do. Plus, the trains are some sort of special 'swinging' cars that can soar even faster around mountain passes - PERFECT!!

Tuesday prior, I book a fabulous yet cheap hotel, right in the heart of the city. Wednesday, we inquire with the dog boarders - but, they are all booked up! So, no point in buying train tickets until THAT is resolved....which it does Wednesday afternoon, so Thursday I haul myself back to the train station to finalize the last purchase...only to find out that Italian trains are on STRIKE! Dismayed, I realize that planning travel at the last minute may not be the smartest idea, and we put off Milan one more weekend, sigh.

Epilogue: The Italians are fickle - the trains were back up and running the next day and now I know not to take the words 'train strike' with such gravity as I would in the US....or maybe not as strikes seem to happen as often as the wind shifts....and here I thought public transit was the absolute ideal in Europe!

Bastille Day Bites!

Having been short-shrifted on American Independence Day (save for some exciting patriotic radio!), I was really looking forward to some excitement in Geneva for Bastille Day - the equivalent day for the French. Now, granted, Switzerland isn't France, but considering that French is the official language of Geneva, and that the city is surrounded on three sides by France (and one side by a lake...) it seemed reasonable there would be some celebrations and fireworks. Alas....or should I say, ne pas sont.....there was nothing! To add insult to injury, we could at one point HEAR fireworks....but of course, they were a few miles away, deep in the heart of France, so not even a slight glimmer or spark would show. So much for making an effort to join league with the French - even when they celebrate, they find ways to leave you out! Dratted French!

Geneva Makes Wine! I had no idea!

It has been a busy week or so - last weekend we had our very first houseguest! My friend I. from the LA office came into Geneva over the weekend before a work-related meeting we had on Monday. She was very accommodating as we still don't have our furniture, including beds, shower curtains, coffee cups, or the other nicities of life! Still, we had fun - Saturday we visited some local wineries in Geneva.


The Geneva wine area is only about 20 minutes away from our house, and features about 50 vintners! We tried two: Cave de Vallaires (sorry, no English on this site) was our first and favorite: blink and you miss it (and you'd hate to), we were lucky the vintner spoke enough English to talk to us, and we sampled 3 nice whites, including a 'Chassalas' (Chaste-e-lay), which is the local Swiss wine made with grapes and highly recommended with fondue, and the absolutely never-tasted-before Reserve de Comte, which can only be described as wine + honey = magic. The prices are also amazing = topping out at $15/bottle for their 2006 production. I love it!

Our second winery was Les Perrieries, which was definitely more of a 'business' winery than a small craftsmanship. They had a formal tasting room, English-proficient vintner, and in our hour there, visited with several locals who literally just stop in for a taste of wine, a little conversation, and then leave. Such is life! The wines here however, were not as magical as the first place - but still a fun experience!

The rest of the week was filled with business meetings and a quick business trip to Frankfurt for 3 days, during which I sadly accomplished no shopping. Good thing I bought some wine last weekend!

Castles of Cheese

Last weekend, Jay and I drove just a bit north of Lausanne (about 90 minutes away) to Gruyere, Switzerland, home of the famous (at least in Switzerland) Gruyere cheese. Also home, to our surprise, to a pretty amazing castle and village. The castle is apparently one of Switzerland's most 'photogenic sights', and was definitely the most impressive we've seen so far. It has huge rooms and was preserved from the 1500's. Inside the castle wall is a small village with buildings that date back 400 years or so - and have functioning shops and restaurants, which we shopped at, including of course buying cheese and fresh bread. Then we went down into the local village of Pringy and visited this great cheese factory, where we learned how cheese is made (neat!) had samples, and then finished the day with a formal meal of fondue and rosti (which is basically a type of hashbrown/comfort food - yum!).

You can view the photo set here!

Cash, Please!

We finally started shopping around for cars and learned new cars are VERY expensive here! To just live in Geneva a few years, it didn't seem worth it to buy a new car. So, we started looking around for a used one, and luckily there is a thriving cottage industry for used cars at work, so I started checking the listings. It's an amazing variety - ranging from really typical things like Suburus to Porshes (as if - I didn't even show Jay those listings!). Finally, the right car came along - a 2001 BMW 325i, with all the driving performance Jay wants plus some nice luxury features, which I suppose would be for me.

The seller was a Russian guy, who was very nice and certainly talked up the car! Of course, it's easy to sell performance when you are driving down an average Geneva street with lights every 500 meters. He's very eager to sell us the car because he is moving back to Moscow in a few weeks, so he offers to negotiate with us, the whole 9 yards. We call later in the day to confirm the deal...and all of a sudden there are mysterious other buyers who popped up from no where, desperately wanting the car. I decided not to budge - there are other cars, right? Sure enough, the other buyers weren't deemed as worthy as us, so he finally relented and the car was ours.Now, there are all kinds of hoops to jump through to buy a car. You have to have your final, valid work permit, proof of car insurance (purchased ahead of time), and of course, the money.

We agreed on 18,000 CHF for the car - and I had to figure out....how to pay someone for a car in Switzerland? Bank transfer? Money order? So, i asked the seller - and he said...cash. As in, to quote him 'stinky, smelly cash'. Nice. At first I thought I'd just go to the ATM to withdraw a few thousand every day, but my first withdrawl (4,000 CHF) was like 3 inches thick! So, I sent Jay off to the bank to withdraw the balance - and we decided it was definitely the largest amount of cash we'd ever held in our hands. I can't imagine how people walk around with fat wads like that all the time!

Finally, with cash, permit and insurance, we meet to make the deal - which involves also going to the DMV to exchange driving plates (plates are registered to a person, not to a car, so I had to buy 'mine' when I got the car). No one spoke English, the Russian also didn't speak French, so really, I have no idea what I signed, but at least everyone was very nice about it!

The car is just fine though - drives great and our first BMW (hopefully not the last!). Everyone laughs a bit when they hear how 'old' it is - 6 years is ancient here, apparently, but we like it, and if we buy another one, I'll have the whole process down.

Haven't forgotten...

Don't worry - posts forthcoming this week, to cover the following recent excitement:
- buying a car from a Russian who demanded payment in actual cash
- buying a couch in a furniture store where no one speaks English
- visiting another, even better castle
- touring an active cheese factory
- thinking more about buying that beautiful SMART

Hope I've enticed you - stay tuned for more!

Zero Xeroxes

Today I learned that, at least in Switzerland, when using the photocopy machine, you put the paper on the other side of the glass. I was amazingly confused for at least 6 runs of the copier to keep getting blank sheets, before I realized that the copy machines here are the equivalent of cars in England = completely opposite!

I sort of also wonder if it might be an intelligence test for new employees, but I think I should banish that thought since I pretty much failed miserably!

Tennis Anyone??

By a fantastic fluke and the insights of S., I have learned how to use the company gym for free.(!) It's no 24 hour fitness. It's not even 12 hours, really. And, it's a whole new playing field when you are sweating gloriously next to your new co-workers, who don't really know you, but do know now that you are an excellent sweat-ter. But, that's probably a whole different article. Still, it's a free gym!

There are two TVs in the gym. It's not like they are best bonus - most everything is in French. But, when the channel is set on MTV, language is no barrier! (Which in itself must mean something...) Today, AGAIN, someone comes in and changes the channel away from the only pop connection I currently have, to put it onto what must be the most inspirational work out program ever: TENNIS! Eck!

It's bad enough that tennis is the national pastime in Switzerland. It is like the American football. Everyone knows the tennis players' names, match results, how to play tennis, and a few nights a week even, both of our Swiss TV stations air carefully moderated tennis matches. I just had no idea it was this bad....when you go to the gym and still can only watch tennis, I think you are a person who needs help. MTV is so much more inspirational!

Our First Castle

Today we drove about an hour into France (our first voluntary visit into France!) to a little town, Annency, which has, among other really old things, a 1,000 year-old castle that is still inhabited by the family that has owned it for at least a few hundred years. On weekends they host tours, haunted-house-style (but not scary) where you walk through different rooms and watch re-enactments of life back 'in the day'. It was pretty neat - I think would have been more fascinating had it not all been in French. However, my nodding and faking comprehension skills are really improving!

Here's a picture of Jay carrying my purse for the day! It allowed me to take some great pictures, plus prove (to his surprise) that purses really are heavy.

I think you can link to the rest of the photos I've posted on Flickr here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jenthefun1/sets/72157600469621758/. You can also learn (a tiny bit more) about the castle here: http://www.chateau-de-menthon.com/welcomeen.htm.

Let Loose the Ships!

Last Sunday we saw on our morning walk (if 11 am qualifies as morning?) that apparently every sailboat on the lake was going somewhere - all the same time. Here are some neat pictures - no idea of course if was a race, but they weren't going THAT fast...still, pretty impressive!

Pizza Pizza?

Today we went into the city for a few errands (including purchase of a used washer!). We stopped at a little restaurant that featured fondue, steak, and pizza - quite the variety. Jay was still in the mood for pizza, so we both ordered one. In my usual fashion, I had no idea what I picked, just to be adventurous. I was very surprised when it had a fried egg featured prominently in the middle of it! It was actually delicious! Just as cute - the empty plate, which featured a traditional pizzeria theme, but with a 'Swiss Miss' serving...how Swiss can you get?

I'm afraid my life this week has revolved around public transport and all of its glory, or perhaps little of it's glory. Most eventful was yesterday: the ticket machine at my stop was not working, so, having no cash, I had to hop on ticketless. Having already been caught once without a ticket, I was a bit nervous (I really embrace 'straighten up and fly right' when not doing so costs me money!)....and sure enough, the ticket miesters showed up before I arrived to Geneva. Despite my protests, I was still issued a ticket - which made me madder than a hornet. They told me that I just didn't know how to buy a ticket - so I made them go with me to a ticket machine so they could see me exhibit my ticket-buying intelligence. Sure enough, I would have graduated from that school - but the ticket was already issued, and they went on their way to ruin someone else's life.

The nice thing about life in Geneva is that schedules are, shall we say, flexible. I could have rushed off to be on time to work (heck, it was already 9 am), but I could not let the indignation go, and loving the pace of this life, decided, I didn't have to! After waiting on queue in two offices (don't I already sound Euro-ish?), I found the right office to talk to. Insisting they check the broken machine was no easy feat, but in the end, they did, and I achieved the impossible in Switzerland - they voided my ticket!

A joyful side note: the process of voiding the ticket (which is issued via a high tech, hand held machine) was a bit fascinating. With a computer right there on the counter, the agent wrote out the excuse letter in long hand on a sheet of paper, and then when it couldn't get any richer, opened a drawer that revealed a dozen different ink stamps, which he carefully tested (yes, it still stamps after 40 years!), adjusted the date, tested again (stiiiilll works!), and then stamped my letter. Then signed the stamp. And let it dry. I breathed a sigh of relief when he used an actual copy machine to make a duplicate. But, how cute!

Arriving triumphant to work over an hour later, I learned that none of the 7 or 8 people I told my story to had ever had a ticket voided! Even more thrilling!

On the way home, I received Swiss payback. Completely immersed in my iPod and magazine, I looked up after a longer-than-usual stop to realize, quite literally, I was the only person on the bus. Which was odd. The driver was making some announcement in French, but I always ignore those - apparently, he was telling everyone to get off the bus. I contemplated just staying there to see what would happen - would he get up to usher me off? Would he take me to me desired stop? Would I end up in the bus graveyard? - I begrudgingly got off the bus. And realized, I had no idea where I was. Garminless, mapless, and Frenchless, I decided the best strategy was to walk to the next bus stop, and continue to the train terminal. Unfortunately, the bus I chose went somewhere completely different. After 4 stops, I bailed off and tried to get my bearings - which wasn't so bad, but still it was an interesting 30 minutes or so of 'exploring the city' before I found the train station.

All told, it was almost 3 hours of 'commuting' that day...needless to say, Jay chaffeured me the next day.

Sunday's Lesson...

We decided Sunday's shopping-less adventure would be a train downtown, a nice lunch, window-shopping, and a safe return home. Since I've been commuting, it's been easier to embrace the train, although I haven't embraced buying tickets, because no one appears to purchase them, and no one ever checks if you have them. Why spend $4 for one ticket, especially when it equates to just 20 minutes on the train itself? I guess it's the 'thrifty me', so rarely seen.

So, we board the train ticketless, against Jay's silent protest I'm sure, and as we are arriving to our stop in the city, the never-before-seen-or-heard of ticket checkers step into our car. Unlike so many other Swiss merchants, they spoke English, so my pleas of ignorance and newness fell on too-cognitive ears. Which was too bad, because 5 minutes later, we were $70 lighter. Ouch! On the bright side, I did convince him to charge us for just one person, vs. the usual per-person violation - so that was a 50% discount! And, I find that acting nonchalant about losing money for no good reason seems to help when muddling through these situations with someone else - I convinced Jay by example not to be mad!

So, jointly yet pleasantly deciding not to let it bother us, we went off in search of Jay's craving for the day - pizza. Now on Sundays, stores in Geneva are closed, but restaurants can open if they want. Interestingly, we could find a wide variety of food (Burger King should not qualify - but it was packed!), but not a single Italian restaurant of any kind. That was kind of funny.

Despite Jay's next choice being a smoke-filled English pub offering fried-whatever, I convinced him to opt instead for "Cafe de Paris", a nice little outdoor place. Restaurants here do a great job of posting menus and prices, but this one seemed to have just a letter, in French, which we could not read. But I saw french fries (I can recognize that French food from many distances), so decided how bad could it be. We were seated, and waited for the menu...for several minutes, and it never arrived.

Instead, the waiter simply asked "medium or rare?". That's a winning strategy for a waiter in the USA, but not one we were expecting in meat-starved Geneva. To our delight, we had stumbled upon a restaurant that only served one dish: steak, served at your table in a flame-lit pan of garlic/onion/butter/gravy! True, there was bread, and salad...and yes, french fries, which dipped in said gravy was almost artery-crushing. But steak served in a literal boat of butter gravy? For that, I will learn to say 'Voila'! It was so delicious, it made us forget the whole train drain, and was a wonderful discovery considering our other options at the time.

Afterwards, we waddled past some expensive watch stores (there are so many here!), then waddled back to the train (with paid tickets in hand), and five minutes after arriving home, the sky opened up with rain for the rest of the day - a bonus that we didn't get wet! All told, our adventure in whole was a success, and I did learn a valuable lesson: things you like to eat are even better when served in butter!

Wine of Cheese?

Today wasn't too exciting - Fridays are the day most people apparently leave town to go to other exotic places. Of course, most people I work with are from nearby countries, so many are just heading home to visit friends and family. Which is still pretty neat - I can't imagine hearing "I'm flying to Germany today" will get old.

I was pleased to reclaim my spoiled princess status because it was raining this morning, so I bartered a ride to work from Jay in order to not get wet. Of course, oversleeping my alarm by 15 minutes (maybe on purpose) didn't hurt. The thing about trains are schedules...and I'm not so good with exact schedules. I'm more of a 'kind of on time' person. So this could be interesting.

I've scheduled to begin my French lessons in two weeks....so two more weeks of enjoying being the ignorant, mute American. I actually find I can navigate around 90% of what I need in life by just acting like I know what everyone is saying. But, learning French would be good - even though I'm still also going to try and pick up Italian from S. (today's lessons: 'uvo' is grape, and both Italians and Americans don't say 'bollocks' too often - a surprise to both of us), and then the functional German for understanding everyone else.

Tonight, we sampled the differences between Swiss and French wine...more than you might think! I'm really not kidding, the Swiss wine smelled sort of like cheese. Bon appetit!

I'm a.....Commuter???

Having lived most of my in vast, far-reaching states where driving anywhere with a car isn't just a privilige - it's a God-given right - it was a surprise to see how many people commute here in Geneva. I had a sneaking suspicion when we came to visit earlier in the year and the real estate agent went on and on about how convenient the train station was to the house we would be renting. But, I filed the thought away in a dark part of my brain, and started dreaming instead of the sassy little SMART car I was going to get - they are all the rage here, and you can park sideways in them! What's not to love?

Then I started work last week. Driving to work shouldn't be so bad - it's only 8 miles. But traffic here is gridlocked, likely because most roads are just one lane - even in the busy downtown that everyone has to drive through to get anywhere. So, it takes 20 minutes instead of 10....but...that's ok. I can handle that. But, then I get to work, and have to find parking. Well, I don't have to find it - if I'm willing to PAY for it! What????? Natch, pay to park in a garage that isn't even connected to the building? I've never paid a monthly fee out of my own pocket to park anywhere, and really, in my last job, if I wasn't within the first 10 spaces to the door, it was the definition of how a bad day started out for me. So, no, I will not pay for your parking, Geneva! Instead, I parked as far as 3/4 mile away, and walked. It's healthy, it's beautiful outside, I brought my Keds with me...perfect! Nice change of pace! Save money for cheese and chocolate! Then, one day it rained really hard...I didn't have an umbrella...yeah, that wasn't so good.

Begrudgingly, I started asking around for how people all get to work - and whether people really pay for parking? And the conversations on commuting started coming back up. A lot. People are very creative here - they ride bicycles, Vespas (!), take the train, but mostly, they take the bus. But few people seem to drive (and oddly, no one carpools???).

So, last Sunday, I sucked it up, mapped the route from my house to work, and started on a practice run to make sure I didn't end up in France or something. It involves walking to the train station, hopping on a train, changing to a bus downtown, and arriving right in front of the building (yes, closer than the parking garage). All told, 40 minutes. And, the buses have these great digital screens in them that tell you the stops coming up, and what line changes there are - that's Swiss efficiency for you!

Monday, I did it for real - and, I guess it's really not so bad. I drink my coffee, do some people-watching, and listen to French lessons on my iPod. OK, actually, I don't do that last part, but it seems like it would be a really good idea. It's been 4 days now, so..... I guess I'm officially a commuter. I'm still learning how to have that detached gaze while commuting - apparently the friendly smile approach is not part of the whole riger. Which is too bad. But eventually I'll get the hang of it.

The SMART is on sadly hold for now...at least until winter arrives, when I understand I might even need to invest in a lined coat, and may definitely be able to start complaining about walking 300 yards to the train stop. On the bright side, I'm already doing things I never imagined in my life I'd embrace...like riding a bus to work! I guess the impossible is possible when you try hard enough!

It's Not Quite Costco

One thing I never thought was such a terribly American concept was that of 'convenience shopping'. As I packed to leave California, it never crossed my mind to bid fond farewells to 11 pm run to Target or even a 9 pm Starbucks fix (ok, well yes, I did go say farewell to Starbucks...). But I should have, because that's all gone now! Shopping here isn't about easiness at all. First, you have to schedule when to go. Stores open early (hmmm, not great for me), but close at 7 pm almost every day of the week. So fitting in a grocery run after work, well really doesn't work. You'd think...that's what weekends are for! Well, if you shop between 8 am and 6 pm on Saturday, you'd be right. But otherwise, no shopping for you! Stores are closed promptly on Saturday evenings and don't open until Mondays - that's grocery, clothing, pharmacy, you name it. I still haven't figured out what happens if you get sick on a Saturday night around here (and hopefully I won't). I'm not sure I'm loving that...

The other crazy thing about shopping here is how little everything is. People stock up at the grocery for just a few days at a time - either because they value the fresher ingredients, they have smaller homes and less storage for all that food, or that's just the way it's done....or all of the above. The biggest size of milk you can buy is one liter, or about half a gallon. Cereal boxes are smaller, you get less in your coffee bag, and if you want a big bottle of soda? Fuhgettaboutit! So in a way it feels very 'cute' and fun to buy what I would think of as miniatures of everything - almost as if I were stocking up my real life doll house. But then when I run out of food two days later and discover I can't make it to grocery by 6:50 pm....oy!

On the bright, I've never seen so much chocolate for sale anywhere in the world than at any random store here in Geneva. There are entire aisles of just chocolate bars in the larger stores, not to mention the nuggets, chunks, shapes, liquids, and 'American' chocolate like Snickers (why bother???). I've decided the Swiss set the standard for loving their chocolate by a) consuming more than any human could think imaginable; and b) still looking so Swiss (tall, thin and not like someone who gorges on chocolate). We all strive to that standard, I think, so while here, I'm going to try for both A and B.....it's apparently possible!

Ikea, Geneva Style

Last week, I decided I had to visit Ikea, which apparently furnishes every P&G expat's home here in Geneva. After a week of refusing to pay for full-size shopping carts at the grocery stores, a tear welled up in my eye when Ikea offered them up for free! Some things are universal!

But some things ARE different - the European mode of 'smaller' means everything is tiny - the glasses, the plates, the beds...the couches....yet Ikea made a lot more sense when I realized how serious about space-saving Ikea furniture soluations are, especially now that I'm in that boat with miniature kitchens, bedrooms and the like. Things like magnetizing kitchen appliances to hang on the wall, or putting in the air-type storage on a TV stand are so logical now, not just nutty-neat.

The Ikea cafeteria still serves up tons of meatballs, and the fresh food market had a plethora of food-in-tubes, including salmon-flavored cream cheese (the kids love it!) and tomato paste....oy!

My purchases for the day: a drying rack for clothes (still washer- and dryer-less, I've gone 1890's style and am handwashing for now), a recycled carry bag for bringing home groceries (the local markets charge you for bags if you don't bring your own), some potted plants (just to add some green inside the house!), and some rugs for the floor since the entirely hardwood floor house echoes like nobody's business. I forgot to buy the tube of cream cheese!

Alpine Views

So I've been in Geneva now for a few days and had a chance to take some photos before starting to work. It's funny how similar Geneva is to San Diego from a weather perspective. In San Diego, I'm used to a cloudy, overcast morning with complete burnoff by noon and nice balmy sun for the rest of the day. That's exactly how it's been here almost every day - with the exception of the clouds burning off - sometimes they get stuck in the alps across the lake, which is kind of cool/mystical. This is a picture from the park on the lake by our house - pretty amazing!

I've also spent some time tooling around our neighborhood. Here's the main lakeside street in Coppet, the next village up the road...the buildings are all very tall and made out of stone, and definitely have that European old-worldish character.

But then, just two blocks down the road, there's this...but I shouldn't complain because this is probably my only choice for Mexican food for the next two years!

Here are two last photo contrasts....

Landing in Geneva...May 07

So welcome to my first blog - I'm hoping this will be a good way to share my experiences with friends and family while we are in Geneva - hope everyone enjoys! I will try to find some non-mundane observations to share from what I'm sure is a quite spoiled American perspective!

I've been in Geneva for about five days, and it's been a study of contrasts and similarities. Although the city's dialect is French, many things can be easily navigated without uttering a word in English or French, like buying gas, shopping for groceries, or walking around the lake front. Of course, I haven't interacted with many people out in the city yet - so maybe that's why it hasn't been so difficult.

Driving has been no problem, and is fun, really - but you can't drive too fast. The Swiss are very serious about preventing speeding. They have elaborate systems to slow speeding down, like sections of road where only one car can pass at a time in either direction, roundabouts every half mile or so. Plus, if you do speed, they have hidden cameras that can levy some steep fees. So one of my first challenges will be to find all the cameras on the way to work!

Settling into the house has been interesting - I've never lived anywhere with a basement before, and being here alone with a gigantic one downstairs is a little creepy. I'll be really happy when Jay gets here, but sadly he is already scared of basements, so we may be a pair of ninnies here!

I've also learned that the French have a different attitude toward appointments and civility than I'm used to. When the rental furniture was delivered, the delivery guys walked around the house smoking cigarettes (ecck!!) without even thinking of asking if it was ok. Then, when the landlord arranged for our window shades to be oiled (long story), they literally walked into the house out of blue with their own key (via landlord) - no appointment, no knocking, no chagrin! So that maybe was more scary than the basement, especially when neither of them spoke any English, but it all worked out in the end. As I suppose everything will while I am living in Switzerland...