I Got Your Alps Right Here, Baby, Part 1

It’s been a while since I’ve posted.  Partly because I have been BUSY!! and partly because my little devil muse left my shoulder. I couldn’t come up with the words to say what I wanted to say.  So I didn’t

But, times, they are a’changin’.  Let me take you back in time… It’s Kelly’s (one of my best and awesomest friends who came to visit from America) first day in Geneva.  Since it’s an amazing weekend, we decided to take Kelly to Annecy, an adorable little lake town at the bast of the French Alps. 

 

Canal Bridge

 

Lake Annecy

But before we go, we decide that Rohit and I need ski pants…on Sunday, we were going skiing! I mean, who lives in the shadow of the Alps and doesn’t go skiing?!? Forget that part about never having been before and having the athletic talents of a jelly bean.  We head to a Columbia Sportswear store in town after a failed attempt at another store and strike gold. Right away, the sales associate on the women’s level hands me 4 pairs of on-sale (still not less than 100 francs!!) ski pants: size M (check!), a white pair to match my white Columbia jacket (check!), about 4 inches too long (CHECK!!).  I’m assured that once I get ski boots on the pants will be A-OK and within minutes, I have my purchase waiting at the checkout desk.  Kelly and I are in a hurry to be outta there, and we head upstairs to the men’s department where Rohit is finding his own pair.  And things are immediately more interesting that we imagine….

Rohit has just come out of the men’s fitting room wearing black ski pants with all kinds of zippers and doodads all over them.  The extremely (and really, I stress the extreme here) helpful female sales associate is assuring Rohit that these ski pants are so cutting edge, so new, they are next year’s model.  They’re so next year, they’re really a figment of his imagination…except they’re not, cause they’re on him (uhmmm, are you confused, too?).  So helpful is our lively associate that she starts demonstrating how the zippers work on the pants…while Rohit is wearing them.  As she reaches for zippers that are on the upper thigh, pretty much in the crotch area, Kelly and I are staring in stunned silence.  We’re thinking…”Surely, not….”, but sure enough, the live one undoes the zipper, exposing a fair bit of Rohit’s thigh and boxer shorts.  I think I may have laughed at this point, but I think I may have just been standing there wondering what the heck just happened.  For his part, Rohit, pulled up the zipper.  

Interestingly, the sales associate is continuing to try to sell Rohit on these pants (cause they’re 200+ swiss francs), completely oblivious to the personal bubbles she has just broken.  Thank God for Kelly who shoved Rohit back in the changing room and exclaimed that we needed to get going.  We got the pants, and an additional 10 minutes on the wonders of the ski pants.  

To be continued…

Friends Visit, Another Run-In with the Law

Sorry it’s been a while since I posted anything.  I got lazy (if you read my 25 things list on Facebook, this is no surprise to you) and I got busy.  We had friends come and visit us from the U.S. and I was trying to fit in some work around their stay.  Joni, Ernie, and Trudy (Joni’s si-star) came for about a week and stayed close to us, but on the French side.  It was awesome seeing them, though my homesickness kicked up a few notches after they left!  I really appreciated them coming because they could have spent thousands of dollars to go anywhere, and maybe to places they would have much rather seen, but they came to Switzerland because Rohit and I are here. That ROCKS.  And the significance of the gesture is not lost on me. 

We did some pretty cool things together, including visiting a gorgeous town in France called Annecy (say Ahn-uh-see).  It’s nestled at the base of the French Alps on the edge of a huge lake (appropriately named, Lake Annecy).  There’s a old prison that dates from the 1100s that is one of the most photographed landmarks in all of France (source, Wikipedia, which is the truth because it’s on the internet…and it’s written, and I believe it :p).  We had a beautiful sunny, clear day and it was like being transported back in time. It’s definitely one of the nicest and most fun places I’ve been.  We had a drink at a place called the Captain’s Pub called a Grand Chocolat (hot chocolate with cognac) and we’ve now decided this is our winter, fall, and cool spring nights drink. It had quite a bit of cognac in it so were warm for a while.  Good thing cause it was cold on that lake!

On the Saturday before they left, Rohit and I were running them around Geneva to check out the sites and to go souvenir shopping before they left.  Rohit was driving us all in our rental in the downtown area and we turned on to a street that happened to be closed to everything but…trams, busses, taxis, bikes, and people who live on the street. And apparently there was a sign.  The police had set up a checkpoint that day on the street to ticket all offenders. In a markedly different manner than my previous run in the local authorities, we were given a warning, told to have a nice day, and sent on our way.  So I’ve had to revise my opinion a little.  There are some authorities who can think for themselves here. How refreshing.

Saturday (Feb 28), our friend Kelly is coming to stay with us for a few days. I AM SO EXCITED.  We are planning on eating great food, drinking lots of wine, and, generally just living it up.  For the next weekend  (after this one coming up), we are planning on going to La Spezia to check out Cinque Terre (google it, you’ll be amazed).  We’re going to do the long hike and soak in everything. It’s going to be amazing!!

More on Florence and Back to Geneva

I can’t stop talking about Florence. I think I’m getting a little annoying with it, but, damn. What a gorgeous city. On the one really sunny we had (the temperature was a balmy 62 degrees), Rohit and I did a walking tour of the city.  We decided we had to see the David, because, how could we not? I have to say, as a person who isn’t really all that interested in art and such, it was spectacular. Like most people unlearned in the mechanics of art/sculpture, I can’t tell you exactly why it was so breathtaking, I can just tell you it was. I can’t really tell good art from bad art, but that thing would’ve stuck out like a beacon in a room full of amazing things.  And it did.

A Replica of Michelangelo's David

 

 

Probably the best part of my day was when Rohit and I walked up  the hills surrounding the downtown area and were able to see Florence from above. Also, you could see the countryside all around. I felt like I was living in a postcard up there. It was surreal.

 

The view from the Palazzo de Michelangelo

That night, we ate at a gorgeous little place called “Osteria del Cinghiale Bianco.”  The food (not surprisingly) was incredible. Rohit had a creme brulee for dessert that he says rivaled the best he’s ever had (in Westchester at La Cremaillere several years ago).  Interestingly, the food in Florence is quite inexpensive. I would say, it is roughly half the price for what you would get at a similar restaurant in Geneva. Each night, we had wine, at least four courses (antipasti, pasta, a main, and dessert–this is normal, and perhaps one course less than what is the norm!), and an aperitif/coffee to end. We never spent more than 78 euros on dinner (the other three nights we spent closer to 50 euros). It was amazing!  I love feeling like I’m getting a deal.  I mean, I know, $100 is not a small amount of money, but for the quality of the meal, and the fact that we were stuffed silly afterwards, I feel like we did well.

Now that we are back in Geneva, I am concentrating on getting ready for my friends to arrive on Saturday (Yay!!).  I know I talked about getting a job, but that seems to be getting more and more unlikely.  From this Saturday to the end of April, we’re going to have friends or family in town almost the whole time. I can’t go to work and be an inhospitable hostess!!  I have to admit, I do get a bored at times; there’s only so much walking around a smallish city that one can do.  But I got some books, and I’ve been working a project near and dear to my heart and future that’s taking up quite a bit of time. And having wireless internet access helps a ton.  Im not really sure where I’d be without Facebook. I feel like I can stay in touch with every one so easily with it! 

Despite what weather.com says, we’ve had some gorgeously sunny days the past few days. When it’s this sunny, I can see the mountains from my apartment window and it’s really breathtaking. Unfortunately, on foggy days, I can barely see the next building, but I’ll keep my complaining to a minimum.

Ahhh, Florence, You’re Stealing My Heart

Florence is gorgeous. There’s no two ways about it. Immediately, you can sense that the place is old. The city streets are narrow, the roads all cobblestone. Everytime you turn a corner you see something several hundred years old being preserved in the stone. The sheer architectural bounty this city boasts is eye-popping. And the food. Mmmmm…the food.

One of the things I noticed right away about the city was how nice everyone is. Definitely, if you’re a woman looking for a self-esteem boost, this is the place for you, but beyond that, everyone has been really helpful! An example: I’m standing on the corner looking forlornly at my map with no clue how to get back to my hotel (sounds familiar, huh?). At least three people converge on me helping me figure out my way back to my hotel (which, helpfully, is adjoining the Santa Maria Novella church, a 600 year old stone behemoth). The three of them used their broken english to guide me home…and I made it! In Geneva, this is highly unlikely to happen. The Genevois are much more private and will not invade another’s space unless specifically asked.

Let me just talk about the food for a minute. Because it is DIVINE. Rohit and I ate at a little trattoria last night. We started with antipasti (a dish with a bit of parma ham, olives, buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, onion, basil, and olive oil). In the European tradition, everything was fresh and amazingly tasty. We then split a couple dishes (gnocchi in a truffled-cream sausce with baby portabellas and slivers of chicken and prosciutto for me and a rustic sausage and white beans in tomato sauce for Rohit). That gnocchi was heavenly. They were delicate and pillowy, the truffled cream sauce was a perfect foil. At the end of dinner, because I couldn’t manage dessert, I had limoncello. And now I understand what it is supposed to taste like. Like a lemon drop candy with that strong bite. Gorgeous.

Crying on the Train and Slumdog Millionaire

My adjustment to Geneva life is going a bit more painfully than I would have liked.  The difference in culture from America is a little too stark for me.  The Swiss are certainly rule-bound and seem a little cold (though I am told this is not coldness, merely a strong desire to help everyone maintain personal space and boundaries). I am gregarious by nature and smile at people normally.  This is not all that normal for the Genevois, I am finding.

I had a run-in with the “authorities” on the train today. As is my wont, I set on foot and walk until I either find my way back home, or get lost.  Today I got lost about 6 miles away from home.  Knowing I had at least an hour and half’s walk back home, I decided to jump on the train when I ran in to a station.  I bought a ticket (though no one ever checks if you have one) and then I made the mistake. I sat in the first class car.  I bought a 2^nd class ticket cause the only difference between the two classes is that the 1^st class has these little white scraps of fabric over the headrest of the seats.  I had no idea I was sitting there and had I made a right when I stepped on the train, I would have been in the 2^nd class cabin. The ticket checker asked me for my ticket, and then proceeded to tell me I needed to pay an 80 swiss franc fine for being in the wrong cabin.  I offered to get up and move the 10 steps it would have taken me to move to the right cabin.  I stated it was obvious I wasn’t trying to break any rules because the entire train was empty and there was no incentive for me to do so. But as I soon found out, rules must be followed for rules’ sake, regardless of the circumstances.  I find this completely asinine, personally.  But then, I was the one sitting in the wrong car of the train. 

Because there was three of them berating me, and I was frustrated that they were being so rigid when I had so obviously made a mistake, and I was tired from walking miles out of my way, I told them this was the most unfriendly country I’d ever been in, and I cried.  And then I felt better.

Later in the day, after my upset, Rohit and I saw Slumdog Millionaire at a theatre close to our place in Paquis.  We had dinner at one of the ubiquitous falafel/shawarma/kibbe places around town (each of them a little different, it seems, but each, really, really good…not that greasy stuff we find so much of in the states).  The theatre was a real 80s throwback with teal upholstery and 80s and 90s film hits (Beignets les Tomates Vertes = Fried Green Tomatoes, She Devil, La Femme Nikita, etc.) adorning the walls.  We got there early so we had our pick of any of the seats in the upper level or the ground level.  We sat upstairs, and the place was packed before the film began.  It wasn’t a huge theatre, maybe 250 seats, but it was full.

The movie was certainly gripping, and certain scenes almost impossible to watch, as those who have seen the movie will attest to (the orphanage scene, for one).  There was a couple times I almost felt bile rising in the back of my throat.  Hard stuff, for sure. Made even more so by the fact that, though I’ve seen it myself, I am sure it actually happens.  The parallels to “real” Bollywood films are quite stunning.  But I guess it’s the story of the underdog that always captures imaginations.  I don’t want to talk about it too much, so that those of you who haven’t seen it can do so.  You should.  Even for the depiction of India…there are some truths there.

New Apartment…Here We Come!

After a couple weeks of living in Paquis, in the Red Light District, in an apartment I am sure is crawling with bed bugs and mites and all sorts of creepy crawlies (I’m not dramatic at all, am I?), we are MOVING!!! We’re moving to the other side of the lake (Rive Gauche) to an area called Plain Palais (say plan-palay). It’s hip, it’s young, lots of great restaurants and bars within throwing distance. Also, the “5th Ave” of Geneva (where all the high-end stuff that I can’t afford is sold!) is within a 10-minute walk. The apartment itself is awesome. It’s in an historic building (triangle-shaped) and had gorgeous hard woods, soaring ceilings, and WIRELESS!!! Obviously, you see where my interests lie. It definitely feels much more like a home and not at all like a hotel. This will be really nice for the next few months that we’re here.

Aside from the new place, we’ve now eaten out a few times. I have to say; the food has been nothing short of awesome everywhere we have been. We went to a Thai restaurant last night (called, unimaginatively, “Thai”) that was incredible. It was a contemporary take on Thai food and the flavors were just sublime (tart, tangy, hot, sharp, superbly balanced, and not at all shy). The décor in the place was also really wild. Amazing upholstery, really interesting artwork, cool plants. We really loved it. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth every penny.

Something strange, though. The sliced bread here. You know, the “this is the stuff you make toast with” bread. Well, here, it’s simply called “Toast”, even before it’s toasted…and it’s terrible! We’ve tried three different brands now. All of them are mealy, crumbly, almost stale! I’m guessing this is the effect they are going for. In an attempt to salvage what I can, I spread nutella on them and eat them that way. Sad thing is they ruin the taste of nutella! Pretty soon I am going to have resort to eating it out of the jar.

This has nothing to with food or our new apartment, but I have to comment on this. The Genevois LOVE their dogs (and their cigarettes, but that’s another story). Seriously, it’s crazy. Dogs are allowed everywhere…in restaurants, in shops, on public transportation (though they need their own tickets!). And the dogs seem to understand their worth. They are so well-behaved! I have yet to see a dog pull, bark out of turn, run off when it’s not on its leash, etc. [My dog would be doing all of the above. But she’s just spirited . ]  Oh! And the clothes!! It seems like everyone puts clothes on their dogs here…not just the crazy women with too much time on their hands (like me).  There’s a man, looks very professional, always dressed to the nines…whenever he walks his dog, I swear it has a new argyle sweater on.  My advice: people who get weirded out by dogs with clothes on…don’t come to Geneva.  You’ll freak out.

The Obama Inauguration

Since we got to Geneva, one of the things we can’t stop remarking on is the amount of Obama-mania around here.  The day we got here, in the taxi cab ride to our apartment, all the cabbie wanted to talk about was Obama.  He expressed his great hope and desire for the positive change he was Obama would bring.  On the train, the next day, a young woman was listening to Obama’s “The Audacity of Hope”, translated to German.  I can’t count the number of Obama stickers I’ve seen around here.

On inauguration day, one of Rohit’s coworkers (JJ) called us to go to a bar where the inauguration was being broadcast.  Unfortunately we couldn’t go because the place was completely packed and no more people were being allowed in to the venue.  We went out afterwards to join up with JJ, his sister, and another friend.  There was definitely a sense from them that we embarking on a new era of hope, in spite of the current world troubles.

An amazing point for me to note is how much people around me, once they figure out I am an American, want to talk to me about Obama, and the direction of America.  It seems that everyone I talk to wants America to succeed.  They seem to be looking for America to lead the way out of crisis and back to better times.  I’ve heard a few times before:  ”When America sneezes, the world catches a cold”, and that point underscores the very true role America plays as leader in matters financial, diplomatic, etc. 

Back to inauguration day, though.  I can say the mood here was electric. As I scanned the local TV channels (I get French, German, Italian, and four Arabic channels, in addition to CNN, CNBC, and a couple BBC channels in English).  Though I couldn’t understand much of what I was hearing, smiles, fist-pumping, and a general ambiance of joy are hard to misinterpret.

I have to say.  It was a great day to be an American.

On our Way to Geneva…and More on London

Here’s another missing post from 1.10.2009.

Another week, another airport lounge!  Seems crazy that we’ve already been away from home for almost a week. The time in London flew by and I am feeling sad to leave it. As exciting as this trip to Geneva sounds, I have to say I feel apprehensive and nervous. New place, new people, new customs. I’m not that great at being an outsider so I’ll be anxious until I get this new city feeling familiar.

I just noticed it, but I am sitting in the BA lounge at Heathrow (terminal 5) next to a huge olive tree! Yes. Olive!  In a huge terracotta pot. It’s making me excited about the Mediterranean and maybe going there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an olive tree before. And the only way I know this is one is cause it has olives on it.  Check the picture. I’m not kidding!

The Olive Tree

 

 

Last night, we had a great dinner with Rafael and Vishy at Blue Ginger (an Indian + Indian Fusion restaurant).  I had a couple lychee martinis that were delicious.   Afterwards, we went back to their place and Rafael gave us some plum brandy to try.  No joke, this stuff was 70% alcohol by volume. That’s 140 proof!  Yes, it was dangerous.  I could only manage a sip out of my shot glass (which, by the way, were doubles) and Rohit is still tasting his today. Rafael managed to take his down and the remainder of mine!!  We were amazed.  That stuff could peel paint off a car. 

I Love London II

Hiya…here’s a post I had written on my Mac (but couldn’t upload cause of the lost charger…it’s back now so all is well!)…

If you’re planning on visiting London, I’d say you could find any kind of food you wanted to satisfy your tastes; whether you’re adventurous or not, you’ll find something you like here.

Another amazing thing about London (something which New Yorker’s and probably East Coaster’s in general will be used to) is the cultural diversity. Yesterday when I was riding the train-on the Jubilee line-from Vishy’s place (got on at the Queensbury station in Edgeware) to Waterloo (where ping pong is located), I heard no less than FIVE different languages being spoken around me. And not one of them was one of the four that I know (English, Gujurati, Hindi, or French).  It was pretty awesome.   Being from Indianapolis, I sometimes crave that kind of diversity.  I love the idea of a salad bowl.

Even though I didn’t do any sightseeing this time, I felt like I got a good taste of the essence of London.  Granted, I was either on Piccadilly, or with my family, but still. There’s something to be said for just walking around and listening to the chatter. Admittedly, when I walked through the Hyde Park area and veered off on Curzon St. (what looked to me like of the most posh areas here), I felt like I needed to get out of there fast. Too much blue blood around me making me cold!!

It’s Been a Week

I can’t believe it’s been a week since we’ve been in Geneva. And what a week it’s been!

I got my butt kicked “racing” a lady up the very steep hills in to the old town of Geneva (what the Genevois call Vielle Vieux).  Made even more sad by the fact that she didn’t really know she was racing.  See, I am a pretty competitive person.  However, I learned early on that I don’t exactly blow any one away in physical endeavors, but I still enjoy the contest. Therefore, in order to increase my odds of winning, I simply compete against people, and don’t tell them they’re competing!! Easy!! 

Back to the steep hill. The Genevois are walkers, they walk everywhere and they are very used to it.  But I consider myself quite a walker, too. I mean, I walked my dog TWICE a day!!  About 1 3/4 mile each time.  Impressive stuff, no? So as I’m watching all these old men and women whiz by me on the sidewalks, I decided I would test my mettle against one of the natives. I picked my target: A 35ish woman with a good 6 stone on me (that’s 84 lbs.).  About 5″6′.  As we were both heading this exceptionally steep hill (I would guess about 150 yds up) at the same time, I figured I had her beat. I put my game face on and started motoring up.  About half way, as I’m clutching my chest in wheezy agony, she’s up the hill and rounding the bend, already starting on the next leg up.  Barely winded.  Did I mention she was wearing heels?  Hmmm. Yes. 3 1/2″ stilettos. Damn her.  And the road was paved with cobblestones, the kind that have deep grooves between the set stones. I was wearing trail running shoes.  You win some, you lose some, I guess.

I have since headed out to that hill every day since. I am determined to beat someone up it before I leave.

Rohit and I also headed out to a restaurant. Spaghetti D’Oro in the area of town called Plain Palais (young vibe, lots of interesting shops and restaurants, very lively and fun).  We shared a pizza and a salad and it was by far some of the best food I have ever had in my life. Anyone who comes to visit, I am taking you there. The place was family by an Italian family and the grandparents, grandkids, aunts, uncles were all there. It felt like being in someone’s home.

But this brings to a point of contention I have with all the guide books I have read about Geneva. They all say that most people here speak English. Uhmmmm. No.  If you came here for business, I think you’d find most people do speak English, but in the grocery shops, in restaurants, in hotels (the service staff, especially), most people do NOT.  Thank goodness for my meager French knowledge!  I can get by, but really, I would have done well to take a refresher course.

Another thing I find pretty funny about the people here…they will not move out of anyone’s way. Picture this: You’re walking on the sidewalk with someone walking towards you.  They can move anywhere on the sidewalk, but your only option is to step in to oncoming traffic.  They will wak at you and NOT get out of your way.  Not even an inch.  It’s the most amazing thing I have ever seen!  I mean, I feel like I’m playing a perpetual game of chicken out here! Except, I’m the chicken!

Next weekend, Rohit and I are planning on going to a Hot Air Balloon Festival.  There, we’ll be able to take a hot air balloon ride over the Alps!  We’re pretty excited about that and I’ll keep you posted on how that went. With any luck, I’ll manage to stay in the basket!

One last thing…did I mention she was talking on her cell phone the whole way up? Well, she was. And carrying what looked to be a pretty heavy laptop bag.