3 things i saw today and one observation

While riding the bus home from my 4th day of German class today, (going well, thanks - had 1st test today. got a 29/30 ... so lame - I forgot the word for country .. it's land ... sooo lame ... but I think I had one of the top scores in class so that's pretty cool...) I saw a polar bear riding a bike.

We kept catching up to him and then stopping at a busstop or stop light and he would pedal away. It was great. His feet (paws) were all white and matted down with mud from the wet road and when we managed to pull ahead of him, I saw that the head was not just a hat made to look like a head it was a full head with snout and all - I don't know how he (I guess I don't know for sure even if it was a he - but it would have been a v. large, tall she ...) was able to see and not crash into the bus, but he was v. steady on the bike. Everyone, from young to old snickered and giggled as we kept playing cat and mouse with him. Unfortunately, I don't think there were many kids on the bus - how they would have loved to see him!

I just want to know what he was doing in that suit and why ... and how and where to get one -

As we rode past the athletic fields by the University, I saw a bunch of little kids (under 7) on little plastic sleds laughing hysterically as they 'rode' down the 'hill'. The thing that made this sight so great was that the 'hill' was all of about a 1 degree grade. One would not likely even notice it if you were to walk down this decline, but it was enough for these kids - who I'm v. sure know that there are killer hills only about a 10 minute walk away - to have a blast on this v. cold day. Good stuff.

Lastly, when I stopped at the Migros - one of the 2 major grocery stores in ZH (the other being Coop) - to get a few things for dinner this evening, I was v. rudely encroached upon by a v.old and feisty woman. She could not seem to wait the 3 seconds it was taking me to pick out 4 clementines so literally elbowed her way infront of me and when I met her eye, she gave me a look which seemed to say, "What...? I'm not sure how long I've got anymore and I'm sorry, but
I need some clementines... do you see that guy behind me? My husband? Well he's likely got less time than me and if I don't get the clementines fast, he may wander out into the street or forget who I am, okay? Someday you'll understand and you'll push past younger produce-pickers too. Really." Our eyes only met for a few seconds but she really did seem to say all that.

I kept running into her and her shuffling husband in random aisles - they apparently shop like me - with no plan, pattern or logic - wandering from aisle 1 to 4 to 2 to 7 and back to the produce aisle again to see all the pretty colors together .... (oh and the fresh bread is baked in wafting-distance from the produce too - I'm not sure if this motivates her but it does me - if I can't eat it, I will always still try to smell it ...).

I wish I had my camera to show what she looked like. Thin, thin, thin. skinny stick legs donning too-short black pants with fishnet stockings sagging around her bony ankles and bunion-covered feet stuffed into 3 inch high block heeled pumps.

She wasn't wearing a fur coat as so many people (men and women) here wear, but a shiny, puffy, red coat that matched her red nails. She leaned on the cart while taking what I call tiny little 'Bette Midler' steps (I'm happy to show anyone who needs a demonstration...). All the while, her tall, surely formerly striking husband in his overcoat shuffled about 10 steps behind her, watching and obediently waiting.

Her hair was not white but blonde blonde blonde with barely any visible roots. Her make up was in place but barely - like it was starting to creep out of place and wander around her face - her red lips over-ran the natural lip-line and her pink cheeks had fallen from the apples to the sunken hollow beneath, but she was strangely beautiful.

I love that so many older people here really get 'dressed'. I used to dress up everyday. So much so that when I was in jr. high and high school, people always thought I was either older than I was or, in the case of college - a professor. Ha. I used to take such pride and got up early to create a new hair 'do', match my shoes to my purse, my hose, iron everything, etc... I still make an attempt but certainly not all the time and when I do it still seems no where near as polished as I used to be on a daily basis. I think I was the last kid to own jeans. I refused to wear pants for years. Odd kid.

But living here has inspired a new-found desire to rediscover this old me. I have yet to make more than a half-assed effort, but I'm thinking about it. I'll be sure to post photos if/when I ever really pull myself together...

Elf means 11

Made it through my first day of German class. Shockingly, I was late (sooo not my fault - Mark was supposed to wake me up at 7:30 but decided to let me sleep until 8...). So we didn't get a 'first day of school' photo as I had envisioned, maybe a 2nd or 3rd or end of the 1st week of school photo ... we'll see (depends on if am looking good or not).

After getting lost and being so close to where I was supposed to be, I found the buliding and ran up to the office hoping they would give me the room number and I would only then be about 7 minutes late ... well, one woman looked at my paperwork and then entered a bunch of info into the computer and started shaking her head and speaking 'not English'. I kindly emplored, "if you'll just tell me the room number, I can come back and we can discuss other details at the break..." (smiling charmingly, of course). She ignored me and went to get another woman and this other woman informed me that the class was full and that I had not taken the test.

Test? What test? Mark registered me online and he can read German and said nothing about a test. When was I to take this test? And what about James? Did he need to take the test? He signed up for the class days after me - only 2 days ago. (James is James Moffatt, the great guy who originally hired Mark at Zuirch and has since left his position there and has the month of January off. He spoke excitedly about how we could drink wine and ski and go on little adventures while our spouses - both of whom speak German fluently - worked. Well, we spent Christmas day and a few fabulous days after with James and Lorna and I mentioned that I was planning on registering for the German class at Migros and Lorna jumped on that train, suggesting that it would be a great time for James to take a class as well. Though I'm sure he'd deny it, I felt him glare at me just then and I think he watered down my drinks for the rest of the night. So James heeded the 'boss' advice (his name for her, not mine) and signed up and was there early for the first day like a regular suck up.)

By the time the 3rd woman got involved I looked at the clock and it was now 9:25. I was ready to cry or blow a gasket and figured that I would go get some coffee and find out when the break was for the class and talk to James then and he'd be a peach and help me figure something out.

Just when I was about to give up all hope, the 4th woman, who was listening all along, said that James came 1/2 hour early and there was one space left so they didn't give him the test and let him in. (He, like me had already registered online but apparently this is just something to make you feel as though you are signing up - you still need to register in person ahead of time?!@%$) She took my paperwork and said we'd go up to the class and see if there were any spaces left and if so, then I could hopefully stay. (Again - when we registered online - there was plently of room ....)

I felt like a military kid whose parent had just been transferred to a new base and who was being led by the hand into this class full of strange, mean kids who would throw spit balls and whisper and to a teacher who would never forgive her not starting at the beginning of the year (day). I stood there with everyone gawking at me (including James) while my chaperone spoke in German at lighting speed with the teacher about me.

After what seemed like 10 minutes, the woman smiled and pushed me into the classroom while shutting the door behind her. I apologized (in German - I learned this early as I am often doing things for which I need to apologize) and went and sat in an empty seat next to James while the teacher, Sylvia said something about sitting next to my boyfriend. I protested briefly while James left me hanging in the wind but I didn't want to get into the whole 'James-is-my-husband's-ex-boss-who-has-January-off-because-he-doesn't-start-his-new-job-until-February-and-he-thought-he'd-take-the-class-with-me-instead-of-skiing ....'

After that beginning, I figured I could handle what came next so I put on my 'focus-hat' (it only works for about 20 minutes at a time,but without the hat, I'm only good for about 3 mins., tops) and listened to the German-only intruction and followed along in the workbook with the pretty pictures and spoke to Bruno and James who were my 'sprechen' partners (everyone else only got one - I have 2!).

I learned to say things like, 'my name is..', 'I am from...' 'what is your name...?' and how to count to 20 and a trick for going above 20 (the Germans say 2 and 20 and so on... of course they do.)

We had a proper break for 1/2 hour about 1/2 way through the class and James and I went to a little cafe near Hooters and had a coffee and a little cake. (So much for starting the healthy eating today...) Maybe I'll have learned enough German after my month of intensive classes to apply at Hooters. It sure would make me feel good to finally be a contributing part of the family. And think of all the great writing/charater material I would get! Hmm ....maybe...

Our teacher, Sylvia got a little warmer after our break and I decided that I didn't hate her, which is good as I really want to like this class and not be a quitter.

I won't say that the time flew, but it didn't drag either and in my book that is a v. good thing.

I think my favorite part of the class was learning that elf means eleven. I am v. proud of myself for not making one of my assinine jokes when she said and wrote 'elf'. It made me giggle on the inside and that was enough for today. It is funny, right? A little? Please? Is this thing on? Is anyone out there?

So now I have one hour of homework and did most of it on the tram home after buying 2 new wine glasses (I broke yet another good one this weekend ... shocking, I know) and a baby doll for my neice Kaitlyn's 1st birthday in a few weeks. (Note to self - you are ahead of the game buying it so early -birthday is the 31st - don't screw it up as always by not mailing for a few weeks ...)

I need a German/English dictionary to finish the rest of my vocab homework and will likely use the computer as all we seem to have here is the 'Jiffy German Phrasebook' which is not really working so far. (Lucky James and his electronic dictionary ...)

I will go back to school tomorrow and perhaps I'll even wake up early and put on a pretty frock and make Mark take a pix of me so you can all see how cute I am going to school and all. We'll see.

I'll just make sure I set my own alarm and try to go to bed before elf.

long distance move

Last weekend we helped our fabulous friends, Shannon and Dave move. They have a fabulous baby boy named Niko who sometimes likes to dress up like Elivs.

He is such a trooper what with all the hiking, traveling, dressing up, partying, moving, etc... really. great. kid. And he really digs me.

His dad, Dave and Mark carried most of the big/heavy stuff the looooonnnggg way from the top of the street where they were living in an apartment building that is scheduled to be demolished this Spring, to just below the top of the street where they now live in a fabulous house with only one set of neighbors who also happen to be their fabulous, San Francisco-throwback-hippie- type landlords.

There is a good sized yard where there were chickens until, sadly, the fox got them a few weeks before the move. Perhaps again in the future. They have a fabulous wood stove that has the cutest little warming drawer for the bread Shannon will be baking. And light! Lots of windows and lots of light!

Mark, ever the Eagle Scout, made a fabulous fire that we enjoyed for most of the evening while we drank v. difficult-to-open Prosecco, (thankfully no one lost an eye, though the men did complain of sore palms and biceps - note to self: buy them one of those sissy flappy-wing-type openers so this does not happen again when I am v. thirsty...) and lots of red wine along with a fabulous 'thrown together' meal of wheat pasta with black olives and sundried tomatoes, fresh parmesan cheese and olive oil. (This is after hours of snacking on cheese, nuts and dried fruits).

I had to laugh and ran and got the camera as Dave and Mark carried Niko's fully made and ready-to-nap-in crib from point A to point B. I don't think anyone counted the steps from point A to point B, but I'd venture to guess that is less than 50.

The only thing cuter than the boys and the crib was what I failed to get a photo of or even witness personally (as I was not there to help then): Shannon, with Niko strapped to her front, loaded down with bags and boxes, trying not to smash the baby going from point A to point B. I think Niko will appreciate his new digs even more as he helped move.

Here's to lots more fabulous times by the fire at Niko's place.

p.s. I know I said (wrote) fabulous 8 (9) times.

dead celebrity mannequins and more broken glass

While running errands with my fabulous upstairs neighbor, Sarah for her upcoming show - (she is a modern dancer from Canada who studied in NYC for years and she is performing with a opera singer in a show they've created about strong women characters through music and dance - it's really great) - I came upon a men's clothing store with these familiar-looking mannequins:

It made me sad, as it was just days after Paul Newman died and it was unmistakeably him ... but it wasn't as though the mannequin makers suddenly made this to honor his passing, I mean they must have had this for years ... and what about Luciano Pavarotti? He died in 2007 and here he is, as robust and big-bellied as ever, smiling and ready to sing. Next to Pavarotti was a mannequin that looked like Gerard Depardieu, and he's still alive, so there went my theory that this was a tribute window ... It was really odd. I mean, someone went to a lot of trouble and effort to create these characters and use them in this non-chain men's clothing store. There were no signs or labels or anything ... just Paul, Luciano, Gerard and some guy we could not identify (maybe I'll try to find the store again and take a photo of the other mannequin in hopes that one of my astute readers might be able to identify him ...)

And as for the broken glass, I guess I'll share the photos, though they are far from thrilling ... (on the left - the remnants of a sexy-looking memo and magnetic board for the kitchen - it matched the stainless steel and was not from the BrockiHaus so not really cheap, per se ... and it fell off the small counter it was leaning on after only one day! All I ever got to write on it was, "Welcome home, handsome!" Guess that's better than a grocery list ... on the right was a little IKEA lamp I got for the second guest room when my mom was here. Not really enough to be a reading lamp, but just enough to illuminate your way to and from the loo without the overhead lights on ... because we use my laptop as a tv to watch shows from itunes, etc... I constantly have to unplug my speakers and camera and microphone from my 'office' where I try to work during the day and schlep the power cord and laptop to the guest bedroom where we currently reside until we figure out what kind of bed we'd like in our room that still only serves as a dressing/ironing/dirty laundry room - needless to say - in my haste one day to get the 'media system' set up for us to watch the latest episode of MadMen, I tripped on the cord to the 15CHF lamp and shattered it. Brilliant.)

I keep telling myself to be happy that they were not mirrors ... but really - 3 big (well, one really big, one medium and one small) glass breaks in a matter of a month? Does that add up to a mirror? I hope not. ... All I know is that I am not buying anything breakable anytime soon and if I do, it is being hung correctly immediately ....

Lastly - I am putting the finishing touches on my new website and blog, which will be www.kristenvermilyea.com. This blog will forward to it when it's ready, not to worry ...

i have a ne-ew bi-ike, i have a ne-ew bi-ike

Yes, this is my new (to me) bike. And yes, it is in my living room. (Don't tell Mark - I'll move it to the basement before he comes home on Friday, promise ... it's just really hea-vy ...)

I found it on one of the ex-pat sites I frequent called the English Forum. I have been looking for a bike for months now, as Mark and I were unable to bring ours to Zurich because our shed in Concord was frozen shut when the movers came ... total bummer too, as I just just had my bike tuned up and it was perfect for me - and a pretty shade of green too! -

Anyway, I've been looking at second hand bikes as new ones over here - like pretty much everything - are v. expensive. Turns out second hand bikes ain't cheap either ... but I was on a mission and scoured the sites I've found that occasionally have used items for sale and viola! I found one ... but I had to act quickly.

I had to take a bus then a tram to go see the bike and in the end, Mark was able to meet me there which made me feel better - though any price negotiation was pretty much out as he was looking swanky and 'money' in his fab suit, tie and new overcoat, (not to mention his v. handsome new haircut I convinced him to get in Bellagio last week).

We checked the bike out, I rode it, in one gear, for about 20 feet and proclaimed that it was great. (I know ... such a tough customer). We had not brought the entire amount of cash with us, which was fine as I gave them a deposit and said I'd come back this a.m. to pick it up, pay the balance and ride it home.

Fast forward to this morning. Mark is leaves for the UK for a few days, and I get up and don my 'biking' duds (yoga pants, sneakers, t-shirt and thin Patagonia pullover), put my wallet, a rain hat, the book I am currently reading and an apple in my backpack and head back to the other side of town to pick up my new, red bike!

I arrived at the apartment complex and was met with a veritable daycare of toddlers running around in front of the door where I needed to press the buzzer to let the husband of Elen know I was there to claim my bike.

It's cold here right now, about 10 Celsius (don't ask my what that is exactly in Fahrenheit, but I assure you, it's too cold for kids to be running around in no coat) so I got to see lots of red and runny noses while I waited for the dude to answer the door.

We found out last night that he had just arrived from Ukraine about a month ago and was studying German at home while his wife was in school. He brought the bike up from the basement, placing it in front of me with a toothy grin. I pulled out my wallet, gave him the cash owed, waved and began to walk my bike towards the forest, where I had planned to ride all the way to our apartment.

I hopped on the bike about 100 yards past the apartment complex, downshifted (do you say that in bike speak?) and the whole mechanism on the back wheel dropped to a different location and the chain would no longer move. At all. "Great," I uttered. But still remained calm, despite the pit in my stomach I had regarding this new situation.

Now anyone who knows me knows that I am not keen on confrontation and don't like knocking on stranger's doors, or buzzing their buzzers, I don't like bothering people and frankly, much of the time, I don't like talking to people. I am the classic introverted extrovert. Go figure that one out ... (and be sure to call when you figure out what it means...)

So given the above, I was v. proud of myself for 1/2 dragging 1/2 carrying my newly acquired bike back to Mr. Ukraine to show him what had happened. Mind you, he speaks no German. I speak no German. He speaks no English. I speak no Ukrainian. Already my anxiety was rising, but I tried to think of how my mother would handle it and I felt better (my mother can talk to anyone, even in languages she does not know - she is not afraid of confrontation, or anyone or anything ... my mother is pretty much amazing - so I tried to channel her).

I buzzed again and he came down the stairs smiling. I tried to (loudly and slowly, as we all know makes those who do not understand our language understand) speak and point and draw pictures in the air about what had happened. I can say 'one' in many languages so I tried that, as that is the gear I went into when it all fell apart - literally.

Somehow we managed to communicate and he went upstairs to get some little Allen wrench-like tools which kind of helped. I was relieved that he was so helpful and not laughing at me saying in his language, "sucker" and slamming the door in my face.

He fiddled. I held the bike steady and we both, hmmm'd and ummmm'd and exchanged looks when something obviously worked (or made it worse).

Suddenly my new friend asked, "you talk Spanish?" I said, "Si" and before I could say, "un poco or un poquito", he started sounding like that little Mexican mouse-guy on Bugs Bunny, explaining the situation as he saw it and so happy that we could now communicate. I was pleased when I remembered, from my high school Spanish class that "mas despacio, por favor" means,' more slowly, please'. And I said that to him, though it did not help. I followed and got every 10th word or so and was now really missing our previous, guttural and charade-like communication method.

Eventually, we got it to a place where I was confident the bike would make it and we exchanged our "Adios" and I was (wobbily) off.

My adventure home was not too terribly exciting save for the fact that I rode about 1 mile and walked my new bike up giant hills for about 2.5 miles. Awesome. A great workout to be sure. And going down the hill toward our place at the v. end of the ride was heavenly. (I think I may not be breaking correctly - I feel like I should be downshifting somehow .. maybe? Any advice is welcome)

Now I just need to find a bike for Mark...

2 fun(ny) things I found in Zurich

Yesterday I met my friend, Shannon and her new son, Niko for a walk around her neighborhood, which is pretty much across the v. top of the lake from us. Well, sort of.

Shannon is a hoot and totally relaxed, cool mom - we had a blast with Niko, who was born on July 22nd (I hope that's right?...) He's a v. hip kid already and was ready to get strapped on to mom's front for our little walk up to the forest and the farm.

I was v. eager to check out this farm - and it did not disappoint. There are little lockers - a la Greyhound bus terminal - only see through, where they have different bunches of apples of varying types and amounts that you pop money into and the door opens and viola! - fresh Zurich farm apples that you'll feel someone left just for you. (I told Shannon, who does not know just how zany I am - yet - that what would really be cool would be to go up there at night and liberate all the apples and replace them with like doll heads or yarn or chopsticks* or even trays of lasagna ... I could tell by her trouble-making grin that she would be on board if I ever decided to go through with mission "replace-the-apples-in-the-bus/airport-lockers-with-various-and-sundry-wacky-stuff-by-cover-of-night"). Right on.

Almost cooler than the lockers was the giant vat of apple juice that came out via a tap-like device. It took me back to those autumn days in NH at college (UNH) when I used to fill up other people's plastic red cups with cheap keg beer from the Ice House. (Oh, I did not drink in college - until I was 21 - no, really - I didn't ... I was (am) a v. good girl.)

The stuff that comes out of the giant vat is the most fabulous tasting stuff. Not like apple juice really at all - I can only have about one sip of typical apple juice but this stuff ... wow - I can see why Shannon said she was able to substitute this and a few other like drinks for beer while she was pregnant ... It's not quite as 'hard' as cider either - the thing I can most equate it to is Cider Jack, alcoholic cider - but not quite as bitey ... Anyway - this is all pretty useless unless you live here or will be visiting me in the next few weeks as you really do need to taste it.

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*Speaking of chopsticks - I just wanted to share this lovely photo I took at BrockiLand. They are actually selling chopsticks - not used, I don't think, but certainly not new out of a sealed box - I mean these are the same chopsticks that you keep in your kitchen junk drawer for years along with random menus, toothpicks, mints, elastic bands, game pieces, twine, business cards of unknown or not remembered people, samples of products you got in the mail and just can't throw away because they were free and your favorite fortunes from those Chinese dinners.

Who buys these? (Let's hope only a kindergarten teacher for craft projects...) I'm planning a trip back this week and will check to see if they are still there. Now I wish I'd hooked up some sort of 'nannycam' to see who bought them - drat. Next time.

i'm dying for a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee right now

Just wanted to let that be known.

One week until my best friend, Dr. Juli Parker and her fabulous husband, Jeff arrive here in Zurich. I'm v. excited but don't think it has fully hit me yet, as I have been focused on organizing things for a yard sale that was pretty much a bust (time spent - 20 hours), rehearsing and performing in a staged reading at the Zurich Comedy Club (time spent - 15 hours) and preparing for a photo shoot for a 2009 calendar which will be used as a fundraiser for the English Forum, an ex-pat site (time spent - 30 hours) ...

The yard sale was a bust because there were only about 20 people who came through the sale, where about 10 of us had schlepped many of our things and set up tables and waited patiently for the rush that never came ... v.v.v. frustrating, as I, having no car, dragged 4 huge, heavy bags and myself on 2 busses and one tram to get there and did not stop sweating until it was just about time to pack up and go home. I did meet a few cool women (it was hosted by the American Women's Club of Zurich), one of whom agreed that if we were stuck inside not selling anything for hours on a Saturday, we should at least be drinking ... I gave her some money and sent her out to get us some booze. So at least we had that for the last several hours.

And, as I tried not to have happen, I did end up 'shopping' at other people's tables ... there were such great deals! In the end, I did come out ahead - barely, even with the 20 CHF entry fee, supporting the bake sale (cupcakes for M., apple tart and coffee for me), purchasing things (a necklace for 3 CHf! An antique seltzer bottle - I collect them - for 5 CHF and free kids books for when people with kids - you know who you are - come and visit) so other than having to repack and re-drag 4 bag-fulls home again, it was fun! (My hero-husband came and met me to help carry and commisserate with the somewhat wasted day and my frustration at the lack of marketing...)

The play reading was great - I'm really enjoying working with and being a part of this group. Tomorrow I will go with a v. cool woman, Karen, originally from NY, to the English Speaking Theatre Festival about an hour away and help behind the scenes with our group's entry to the fest.

The reading on Monday night was a 'debutantes' evening, as it was cast with almost all new comers and those who had never read or been on stage before. I played Meg, the bride in the only role that was not double-cast. I was v. proud of all these brave souls, especially as many do not have english as their native tongue and did a smash-up job.

The only real gaffe of the evening was mine - and I am glad that it happened at this point in my life, not sooner, as I don't know that I could have handled the embarassment and aftershock when I was younger ... Because my husband in the play has cheated on me and I have found out the night before the wedding, I am v. emotional and crying/weepy during much of the second act. At an expecially emotional point, the character of my mother sees this and offers me her hanky and holds it up to my nose saying, 'blow'....

Now, I don't know that I really need to go on here, but I will - just a bit. You see, though the cast had a few 'rehearsals' in bits, we never were all together and much of the time was spent helping with pronunciation, etc... not with physical 'bits' ... so when my mother told me to blow - I (Kristen) had gotten weepy in the character and was also suffering a bit of allergies - I made a noise to pretend to blow and was perhaps a bit too forceful, for as she took away the hankie, I was still blowing bubbles, as it were ....

I can't remember the last time I broke character on stage and it is something I pride myself in not doing, but when this happened and I immediately put my script up to my face and saw that the audience, who were v. close to the action was in hysterics, I too lost it and ad libbed - in character - about my allergies and side stepped over to the box of tissues that was on the desk (thank goodness).

From that point on in the play, I had a tissue in my palm just in case. I am still shocked that I did not loose it again, as it was v.v.v. funny and there were giggling twitters throughout the audience like aftershocks as we went along. And god knows, if I had been in the audience, it would have taken everything I had not to keep laughing ....

When I go to the next reading on Monday night, I expect a barrage of tissues to be handed to me and/or rolls of toilet paper, etc... I see it as an initiation of sorts into the group and really - what are you going to do?!! I am proud of myself for not being more mortified and embarassed and for laughing at the situation and myself (which is something I do often...)

The photo shoot is something I'm not sure I am handling as well. I saw a few of the photos this morning over email and must say - and this is not me being hyper-critical and ridiculous - that I look pretty lousy in them. I guess my mirror at the apt is a good 'skinny' mirror and I felt that I looked better in my white ski pants, white zip up shirt and white fuzzy, faux fur hat than I really did.

There are no excuses. I just wish I was more happy about the results. I am pleading with the photographer to use one that is more goofy, typical Kristen and that is less embarassing than using one that looks like I am trying to be all sexy and sassy and falls miserably short of that mission ...

Ahh, life's lessons. I'm not sure what this one was - perhaps the same one I keep failing - being comfortable and confident in one's own skin. I know I am no longer 20 and that I was never thin and never tall so when I look at a photo and see someone who is almost 40, short, curvy and not as photogenic as she used to be, it's still hard. Especially when you want to go back in time and not agree to pose for a calendar that will be available for some/many/who knows? to see .... But there is a reason and maybe it's just that. Maybe some young girl who is also not tall, thin and gorgeous will see the calendar and feel more confident in her own skin. I know that would have helped me when I was younger.

It's a good thing that Juli will be here in a week - she is the main reason I'm not (even more) hung up on all these body image and self issues ... she runs the Women's Center at UMass. Dartmouth and teaches women's studies and just got her Ph.D! An amazing woman and an amazing friend - and she actually thinks that I will be going topless with her on the beaches in Italy in a few weeks! Well... maybe I'll just surprise everyone and myself and do it.

Okay - that felt like a therapy session ... Forget the coffee, I need a drink.

80% there - take a look:

Here are some photos of our apartment in Zurich. While we are v. close to being where we want/need to be with it, we still have one room (ours) which has no bed and virtually no furniture and is waiting for both inspiration and appropriate funds... There are no photos of this room or of the second guest room/Kristen's craft room yet ... coming soon!

May Day, May Day ... our first riot

Last week we had a holiday. Well, much of the world did. It's called International Worker's Day and according to Wikipedia: May Day commonly sees organized street demonstrations by millions of working people and their labour unions throughout most of the countries of the world though rarely in the US and Canada. Communist and anarchist organizations and their affiliated unions universally conduct street marches on this day.

What fun! I had read about the rioting in previous years on an ex-pat forum I frequent but truthfully didn't think much of it, as many people said that any 'action' seemed to be focused on the more seedy areas of town. (Zurich's seedy area is what one might call 'hip' in any other city.)

As is always the case when many different people weigh in on an issue, the on-line forum contained varying degrees of panic, warnings and dismissal regarding May Day. I was amused to read that some people were staying home with windows shut, shades drawn and doors locked while others, writing enthusiastically of rubber bullets, tear gas and giant water cannons, were hoping to find the action and perhaps even become involved in the day's activities.

From what I've gathered, those that historically start the riots are not even from Zurich. They're thugs from surrounding areas who come into town to cause a fracas and get everyone all riled up. One woman said that in certain areas, you are encouraged to leave beer on your doorstep as a peace offering to discourage them from taking and/or breaking your things. What the heck kind of riot tactic is that? Sounds more like Halloween trick or treat to me...

So on this day off, May 1st, (Happy Birthday, Andrew Cheney) Mark and I set out on an adventure that began as we went to look at some second-hand furniture at the BrockiHaus near the train station. (He was in and out of there in 10 minutes. I have been known to spend an entire afternoon at this one in particular - remember the free chair?!)

Since we were in the area, I asked him to show me where the apartment was that we had 'gotten' then 'lost'. A few months ago, just before I arrived, when it looked as though it was going to become our home, he had assured me it was on the 'good' end of the red light district... (This is the place near the only Hooters in Switzerland that I mentioned in my last post.)

As we walked along, I immediately recognized why this area might be called 'seedy'. But not necessarily in a bad way - I must admit that seeing some diversity in Zurich was a welcome sight. (it's not at bad as NH, but...)Not only was the crowd much more racially diverse but there was more noise, more trash on the sidewalk and in the street, people just hanging out smoking, fast food restaurants, bars with happy hours, head shops, peep shows, massage parlors ... you get the picture. But it was great. V. much alive, and filled with energy. I wish my mom had experienced this - she commented on the fact that it felt a bit like the people here (even the kids) were on Prozac ...

As we headed away from the strip joints and The Macarena Club, we heard the sound of a bull horn. It got louder as we approached the block where the apartment was. I looked at Mark expecting that he, as the one who had been here for much longer than I and spoke the language, would know what the heck it was. I didn't have to wait for an answer - as we walked up from under a small overpass, there it was - a riot! (Truthfully it was more of a standoff at this point) We had stumbled upon the famed riot!

I was a little apprehensive but had to check it out. We weren't as flagrant in our voyeurism as many others who kept getting closer and closer to the riot gear-clad police, testing them and taking videos and photos, but we still were there watching and waiting. It was a little other worldly, actually. I mean, I've seen machine gun-armed men in airports, rebels in the jungle in Malaysia and militia hiking down the face of a snow-covered mountain in Yugoslavia, but I was just a tourist then - on my way to or from or just passing through for a few days - I live here.

I wanted to know what this was all about and why. I knew the basic jist, but that made little sense to me played out like this and the language barrier made it even more frustrating. Mark could not even understand, as they were communicating in heavily accented Swiss German.

There were several tank-like trucks (photo above) that M. told me were water trucks. (He also told me that it would hurt a lot if we happened to get invoved in the mele ...)

After standing and watching and listening for about 20 minutes, we decided we were bored and I still wanted to see exactly where the apartment we lost was. Turned out it was smack dab across from the small park where the protesters were. Of course.

As we circumvented the 'action' I saw what appeared to be a giant flea market on the far end of said park. As you can imagine, riot or no riot - I wanted in. (And likely people would be making sweet deals if they were fearing for their lives, right?) Somehow M. talked me out of it. I just know there were some awesome buys there - things I really needed. And that stays with you for days when you've missed out on something like that, you know?

I never did get to see the apartment ... so after all that excitement, I convinced M. to go see Once with me. Yes, the v. same movie I had just spent 12 CHF to see just 3 days earlier. (And now it would be 18 CHF each!) I'd never gone to see the same movie in a theatre in the same week before - I really felt compelled to see it again and to watch him watch it.

My biggest challenge was to keep my yap shut when the best parts were coming up and not to hum along with the songs. I succeeded for the most part and was only slightly let down when he was not as blown over by it as I was. He liked it. A lot. But it's hard for something to live up to its reputation when you have me gushing about it. I can be a bit dramatic. ("It is the BEST film I have seen in sooo long! I cried - it was so amazing. You HAVE to see it. You of all people will love and appreciate it sooo much - trust me!")

What a day. About the only thing this May Day did not have was a pole with colored ribbons and cute, little dressed up kids running around it. (Why do they do that again?)

open mic, free stuff and a fab film

Last night Mark and I, along with my friend Jasmine, in for the weekend from London, went to Miss Brandy's Open Mic at a cool little bar in a funky neighborhood (don't ask me the name - I have no idea ... I'll figure it all out soon...) There were some interesting acts and a few really great ones as well. (http://www.myspace.com/msbrandysopenmic)

We were all v. tired and were about to leave but decided to stay for the last act, hoping it would be better than the previous few ... it was a tiny little peanut of a girl with a guitar that looked way too big for her. Well, don't you know we were glad we stayed. She had a Fiona Apple/Tori Amos/Ani DiFranco thing going on and it was amazing the sounds that came out of that little person. Really great. (I will try to remember to figure out who she is and pass it along!)

Today after dropping Jasmine off at the airport and saying goodbye to M. for a few days (off to Frankfort till Weds. pm), I wandered around the neighborhood we were in last night to check it out during the daytime. V. cool. I think we actually almost had an apartment in the area now that I recall and can put it all together.

Said area is the 'good' end of the red light district, (which is pretty mild, from what I can tell) and v. near the only Hooters in Switzerland, M. was quick to inform me just after he looked at the apt. the first time. My immediate thought was that maybe I could get a job as the not-so-skinny, old, buxom, American chick. I mean, how hard could it be? German-Scherman - I'd be fine with "Greuzi, wings? Ya. Bier. Ya. Hooters. Ya." ... See, no problem.

Anyway - Along my journey I re-found the fabulous Brocki-Haus. The biggest and pinkest of them all. 3 floors of other people's stuff. My dream and my husband's nightmare. But as I mentioned earlier, he is gone for few days and ... not that I would ever try to pull the wool over my partner's eyes. And really, 90% of what I have ever brought home from a yard sale, thrift or antique store he has ended up loving and being thankful that his wife is so thrify and can see treasures in veritable trash.

Why look what I got FOR FREE today .... of course I will be reupholstering the seat, but its solid maple and sturdy and we need dining room chairs ... I also got a nifty Roulette wheel and chips - a whole snazzy set for a mere 7 CHF. Now when people come to visit, not only can I take their money in poker, but in roulette as well!

Instead of staying home and working on some of the many projects I have going, tonight I decided to take advantage of 'cheap' movie night in ZH - ( 12 v. 18 CHF - what a bargain - and I even sneaked in my own bottle of water and a roll for dinner ... there's that frugal, Yankee spirit again...)

I saw Once and loved it. Please go see it or at the very least listen to the music. (http://www.foxsearchlight.com/once/) I have not been this moved in a long time. Shot in only 17 days for 150k. True independent cinema at its best. I laughed, I cried (... it was better than Cats...)

It's been a great 24 hours that began and ended with fabulous music made by passionate, talented people.

workshop week at the American Women's Club of ZH

Last week I got to go to camp. Sort of. I took classes at the American Women's Club of Zurich (AWCZ) as part of their workshop week, which takes place once a year. It was more fun than I expected and not only did I learn much, I met some people I look forward to getting to know and who knows... maybe even becoming friends ....

I took Art History - v. difficult to understand the woman who taught it at first - v. thick German Swiss accent. I was late (shocking, I know) and a bit concerned when I first arrived that I'd be sitting through 2 1/2 hours of only listening to her speak. But to my delight, we soon switched to viewing slides of various works of art and discussing "What is art?".

I then limped home and created tremendous blisters doing so, as I had unwisely chosen a cute but never-before-worn pair of shoes. Thank goodness my next class, that afternoon, was to be Spiritual Bellydancing and shoes were not required.

Bellydancing class was v. fun yet somewhat embarrassing at first. The teacher was great - much more into having us feel the music and doing what came naturally than giving specific instructions and techniques. This tactic is good for me I think, but also v. challenging, as anyone who knows me knows that I like direction and to know what is expected of me. I want to know the right way of doing things... (easier to break the rules when one knows what they are.)

The teacher brought in skirts and scarves and jingly hip-waist-y things for us all to wear. Not having much of a waist, the skirt she chose for me was (not surprisingly) a bit snug. It seems she thought I was a bit smaller than I looked and gave the adjustable waist skirts to the larger women in the group.

So there I was with my muffin top shakin it like I was alone in my room at 12 and pretenting to be Olivia Newton John in Grease when I look out the window to see a handful of men outside the neighboring building on a smoke break staring at us - their eyes obviously glued to our large studio window. At this point I shimmied my way to the other end of the room where the table with a pitcher of water and glasses was located, poured myself a glass, drank it and planted myself at that end of the room for (almost) the rest of the class.

In the last exercise she had us blindfold ourselves - so that we were not self conscious - and put on the really rockin' belly dancing music. The best part? She maneuvered us individually around the room so we would not bump into one another or walls/windows/poles, etc.. and guess where I was placed? Yup. Right back in front of the window. When I took the blindfold off, the same idiots were standing there, still smoking, still gawking. So I took a bow, of course.


Took 2 art classes - Mosaics and Charcoal drawing. Both lots of fun. I have done a little work with mosaics before just playing around on my own and found this class atmosphere great.


Lots of chatty women from early 30s to 70s. I sat next to one woman who grew up in Brookline, MA and just moved in September to ZH from Manhattan and another, from San Francisco who had just moved to ZH a few months ago from Park Slope, Brooklyn - v. close to where I had lived in Brooklyn. She is pregnant and almost exactly one year younger than I. Her husband is an environmental scientist. We had a great talk after the class and pretty much decided to be friends. (This sounds silly, I know but our conversation kind of went that way. We both had limited expectations of the week of classes and merely hoped that we would find just one woman we liked enough to perhaps hang out with.)

I had not finished my mirror when the class ended so I needed to take some tiles home with me and go buy some tile cutters and glue. I guess my design was more detailed and the peices smaller than most others in the class - that's why it took longer ... (it was not because I was talking too much ... I know what you're thinking...) Charcoal drawing was fun too. I am by no means an artist, but I love to do artistic things. I'd say I'm more crafy, though I hate that term and the fact that it's so overused and trendy right now ... anyway. This is my 'peice'. Bidding starts at 100 CHF. I take PayPal and cash only.
Moroccan cooking class was yummy. We got to drink wine while cooking, always a good thing and I learned about degerming garlic. I had no idea. Why did no one ever tell me about this before? Apparently the germ in garlic and even onions is the bit that causes some people's bellies (mine) to hurt. I was so thrilled to find this out and am on a mission to see if it holds 100% true. I'll keep you posted.

We made Moroccan Lamb Tagine, Couscous, Eggplant parcels, and Baklava. I was not sure I would like all of it as it was very black olive, nut and coriander heavy - all of which I'm not usually that fond of - but wow - all together and in this menu - amazing. If you come to visit us, this will surely be one of the meals you'll get!

I think I may join the American Women's Club of Zurich after experiencing this week. A good time all around and I met a handful of women I think I might just have to tea in our new place!

Zurich and back

Just returned from Zurich last night. Great trip. Mark picked me up at the airport looking smashing in his "Vegas" suit, holding a giant, red Amaryllis and wearing a huge smile.


As seems to be the case in Zurich for much of November-February, the weather was grey, grey, grey. (must remember to pack light box)


The first day was tough as I spent much of it anxious about whether or not I could really live there. Then I fell asleep. And I slept and slept. I slept so much, when I awoke, I was on Zurich time and my jet lag was gone.


I checked out Mark's office and met his team - all very cool, multi-lingual people. (They all speak at least 3 languages fluently. I wowed them with my "toca la guitarra" and counting to 10 in Spanish AND French).


We met his boss, James, and his wife, Lorna for drinks and dinner and hit some fabulous, fun bars/lounges. They are both Brits so I didn't feel too guilty speaking English. (Of course, they both have their PhDs in math/science-type fields so I still felt quite daft ...)

Mark bought some yummy sausages at the Christmas market.

We went apartment hunting, which successfully eased some of my most pressing anxieties about this aspect of our new life. We saw some v. cool places in which I could really see us living - places I didn't immediately see myself curled up in a ball in front of a television, depressed for weeks at a time as I had feared - fabulous!


The entire trip was going really well and we thought it could only get better since we had decided it to take an apartment that we had seen (brand new reno in old building - 2 bedrooms, 2 baths, heated floors, washer and dryer, roof deck with view of the lake - even an Evita balcony!) and were envisioning where to put which pieces of furniture, talking about who we thought would be our first visitors and how lucky we were to have a cheese shop right downstairs - until we got the call from the broker that the owner had rented it to someone else. Apparently we did not fit the exact mold he was looking to fill ... (another lovely Swiss custom - no rules/laws re: what can be asked of prospective tenants, etc... he wanted to know - kids? pets? were we married? did we have bikes? did we play any instruments? did I have a job?)


Not to be too "The Fox and the Grapes" about it, but we decided that he would have been a lousy landlord anyway. Yeah.


It was a longer flight home (over 8 hours) than on the way over (6.5 hours) but I watched a movie ("Elf"), drank some red wine (free), and had an extra pillow and blanket (score!) so it was bearable. (Knowing that I'd get to see George when I got home and that Mark would be home soon helped too.)


Next step - sell the house. And get back on Eastern Standard Time.

alone vs. lonely

People keep asking, "Aren't you lonely?" Actually, no, I'm not. I haven't really had a chance to be. Each day since Mark left, I have had either work, or appointments or social engagements that have kept me from being alone.

I've always felt that it's easier to be alone when one knows their 'alone-ness' is finite. I know that my fabulous husband is waiting for me in Zurich and that we will be together again soon. It's the old, 'seeing the light at the end of the tunnel' bit... When I know I only have to wait 6 days to see Mark, I can enjoy the time I have by myself while looking forward to being with him soon - the best of both worlds, really...

I so looked forward to having the house to myself after Mark left. It was great, but the novelty wore out in less than a week. I miss him. George misses him.

But it's a probably best that he's not here right now. The house is in a state of disarray as I have pulled everything out of its place in an attempt to organize, downsize and take stock of what we really are dealing with here. There are piles everywhere. The Goodwill/Salvation Army pile. The Craigslist pile. The in-house 'yardsale' pile (this will shortly become the give away pile). The NH storage pile, the take to Zurich pile.

I can't even begin to box things up because the movers have to pack everything that is going to Zurich because of Customs laws. How inconvenient.

I did sell 2 chairs and a dresser to a friend of Mark's this weekend. That cleared out about 1/89th of what needs to go. But still, thank you, Dan. Thank you for your patronage of Casa Harbaugh - (you sure I can't interest you in an end table or two?)

After a weekend filled with much talk and little action, I decided I needed a break from the insanity and sat down to start a project (see photo). The best use of my time? Not likely. But I couldn't help myself. It's still sitting there, not even 1/2 done, entirely covering what was the only clear table space I had left ... brilliant.

Not to worry - I'll finish it soon - perhaps even tonight. (Right after I shovel the driveway, clear off the cars, fix the broken/frozen wiper, organize the recycling and trash, and attempt to make a meal out of what is left in the cupboards/fridge...)

Just spoke to Mark. He feels terribly that he is not here to help. It would be nice to not have to do all this by myself, but it does help to know I'm not alone.

where to begin

Presently, procrastination is the bane of my existence. While procrastinating, I'm realizing that chocolate tastes really fantastic with red wine. And Law & Order reruns.

Where to begin?

My husband, the charming, dreamy, smarty-pants Mark left me to live in Zurich, Switzerland almost 2 weeks ago. He didn't really leave me, leave me - he left to begin his new job and to check out the place we will all be calling home within a few months.

I have been left home to take care of a few things: resign from my current position, sell 2 cars, rent/sell our house, take care of George (a Bernese Mountain Dog who misses his father terribly), decide what to take to Switzerland, what to put in my mother's barn, what to give away, what to sell and what to put into a pile and set ablaze... to name a few...

I have spent the past 5 nights wallpapering a very curvy room with many windows in preparation to sell the house. The pattern we chose is beautiful but has a 27" pattern, which meant nothing to me when we bought the paper, but once I began to paper with my mother it soon became apparent that one wastes a LOT of paper while trying to match the pattern ...

I had been enjoying the wallpaper project when it was not rushed and the effort was being made on behalf of the home we were creating, etc... it's less enjoyable now as the clock is ticking down and I won't be the one to enjoy the fruits of our labor -for more than a month or so while I wrap things up here.

I hope that the people who buy our house like this wallpaper and don't rip it down like I did to the paper that was here when we bought the house.