Travelin'



Off to Italy for a wedding this weekend and yes, we get to stay here.

Please Don't Hate Me Because I'm Lucky

Last week, while we were standing smoking outside a restaurant in Paris (and yes, somehow the anti-smoking league has managed to get even those Gauloise smoking Parisiens to 'step outside') my brother commented on how my good fortune occasionally strikes him as, well, ... irksome. Nevermind the fact:
1) That much of the good fortune in my life has been the result of people I met through him, as well as having him for my brother
2) He was standing WITH me on a street in PARIS !

But he has a point...I have been extremely fortunate for most of my life. This is not to say there weren't times of great economically-driven stress, times when all I wanted was for someone to love/love me who wasn't neurotic and fucked up, when loss and pain and fear broke my heart. But over all, I've been one lucky bitch ... and it's not fair. I'm not a bad person, but I'm not a particularly good one either. There are people in the world who give more of themselves,who do truly good works for simple rewards, people who change this planet for the better and I can only hope they get the joy and happiness from their lives as I do from mine. And I know there are people who seem to have it all; money, love, family, education and they are miserable. So perhaps being fortunate isn't measured only by how much you have or where you have it. Maybe there's an element of perspective to it all.

All of this is a preamble to me posting the photos below. I want to share my pictures, my love of Paris with you, my faithful blogreaders. And if you feel a twinge of envy (justifiable and not really too bad of a sin) please know that there is much in your lives (that you share here on the interwebs) that assures me that you, too, are very fortunate.



We did, indeed, get to stay at the Hotel Caron de Beaumarchais, and it was as charming and wonderful as I had hoped.





We went to Versailles (The Big G had never been) and as it was a Saturday and packed, we spent most of our time wandering around the gardens.

But my favorite thing was just wandering around Paris (although we did see a couple of excellent exhibits Tresor de Medicis and France1500).

Track Back (en voyage)



Bien sùr...there is no place quite like Paris.

La Mode d'Hommes

Here's a taste of the latest fashion trends on display in Montreux yesterday. It all started with this guy:





I, for one, thought his attire was...striking! Then I began to look around...



The lonnnng plaid bermuda short is BACK!



Surf's up DUDES!



Retro Hippy is also very popular this summer.

The well known and never to be forgotten "Roberto Benigni Look" continues to be a fashion fixture on the continent.




And yes, folks...CURLZ are back!






The younger set is sporting matching hats and medallions worn backwards:



But MaxStyle?



TIMELESS!

Gesundheit

So, I have yet another cold...and I know I'm repeating myself, but I really don't do sick very well. The last cold/cough/plague that I endured had me coughing so hard I know I herniated something, the pain from which lasted longer than the cold itself. Currently, my nose is a shiny, sore, red dripping mess and the virus has migrated to my bronchioles, which of course, leads to...coughing, hacking and me holding on to various abdominal areas (not to mention squeezing my legs shut) so I don't splat my entire body all over the place (or pee my pants, gawd menopause is fun).

Tuesday, before I was infected, we made plans to go up to Meiringen for the weekend, a beautiful spot in the Bern Oberland mountains most noted for the 'death' of Sherlock Holmes at the hand of Moriarty, when they both fell over the falls (Arthur Conan Doyle actually had to 'revive' Holmes after public outcry).So I'm hoping that by tomorrow my head will stop being a snot factory and I can go enjoy some altitude and fresh air.

The wonderful picture above is from a project called ...Gesundheit which "aims to be the biggest artistic study of sneezing to date" and has some wonderful shots.

Gggaaaaaah

So I haven't been posting...not here, hardly commenting on all my favorite blogs because...I've been sick.Wah wah wah! And not sick with real life threatening, drug requiring diseases like the pneumonia a few of you had.Oh no, I was laid low by the common cold, a few days of sore throat, rattly cough and wet cotton batten filled sinuses (and a little fever too, boo hoo). I know, I'm pathetic. I don't get sick very often and this maybe only the second time Big G has ever experienced how truly sad and pitiful I become when I've been waylayed by some virus. I spent ALL of Monday in bed, coughing, sweating, dozing and only got up to pee and find more water.Tuesday and Wednesday I did get my sorry ass up and dressed, but I mostly wandered around in a snot drooling, sneeze fitting, red nosed state of exhaustion.Big G noted, "You don't DO sick very well, do you?"

Today, miraculously (and thank Christ because I don't think I could have put up with myself for another day) I'm virtually symptom free, except for a little residual cough. This is a good thing because it's the start of a 5 day long weekend and we're all going up to Gryon, kittehs included.Last chance to get in some skiing for The Max and myself, do a bit more snowshoeing with Big G and generally lay around and watch all the birds and squirrels and maybe a fox if we're lucky. I'm all excited for the kittehs...look cats!...MOUNTAINS...PINE TREES....BIRDS! But they will most likely be totally blasé about the whole thing and wonder why they had to suffer a CAR RIDE (mewl, meowr, meow, MEEEOOOOOWWWW) for an hour.

So I've got some packing up to do and I hope all of you have a great Easter Weekend, eat lots of chocolate and enjoy some downtime!

Photo courtesy of Black and WTF. This is such a great site, check it out.

The Awwww Factor
I'm going up to Berne tomorrow to have a tasty curry lunch at the Markthalle with the Big G, check out the Antike Welt (ancient coin) exhibit at the  Historisches Museum of Bern and hopefully catch a glimpse of the newest additions to the Berner Bärenpark, the Bärenbabys Berna and Urs.

All together now....awwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Adventures in Knobblyland Part 1 
So I've been away for a bit...didja miss me? It seems more like a month than a mere 10 or 12 days of driving back and forth across France, ferrying our way to England, travelling from Bath to Blackheath, packing up the flat (my exile abode) and the constant cloud of doubt surrounding how the shengen troll was going to behave at shengen border entry/exit points. 

On the final Friday of February (aaaaaaahlliteration) the Big G and I set off for the 8 hour drive across France to Calais where we would catch the ferry to Dover the next morning. My favorite part of this drive, aside from sitting next to Big G and reminiscing about sitting next to him in the Mighty Gland Bruiser way back when in the 1970's, was the trip through the Jura mountains.Once we reached the motorway it all got pretty flat and boring, kinda like driving across Saskatchewan except the speed limit is 130 km/h which means everyone drives at least 140. It was dark when we reached Calais, so we had a quick dinner, accompanied by a very tasty and wonderfully inexpensive Bordeaux, and retired early to watch a documentary about Johnny Halliday (the French Elvis) from the comfort of our hotel bed.

Leaving shengen was a non event and when scanning my brand new passport for entry to the UK, the woman didn't flinch or make a comment about my shengen status, so I was mildly reassured that I would be able to return just as easily. As we neared Dover, I caught a glimpse of something white and towering sticking out of the water and, being Canadian (and perhaps mildly retarded) I said, 'Look! Ice!' The Big G gave me a look that conveyed both his incredulity and wonderful acceptance of my shortcomings and I tried not to dither on about how any 'normal' Canadian always assumes that large blocks of white things must be composed of ice and snow.

We rolled off the ferry alongside the famous White Cliffs of Dover and drove onto Bath to meet up with Big G's oldest son, Adam. In Bath, we had a few pints, dined at the marvelous Tilley's Bistro , had a disappointing pie at the Raven Inn and set out for Blackheath on Monday. 

It felt a bit strange to be back in the flat after being away for 2 months, and the prospect of packing up all the bits and pieces I had acquired during my exile was almost bittersweet. It seemed like a good idea, at the time, to use the newly available BT Openzone wifi from the flat, as I would be able to use both my laptop and my iTouch with it, rather than being restricted to my O2 dongle connection. After paying the ₤22 for 33 hours of access and logging in once, I was unable to reconnect.Ok...let's try the dongle then...nope. Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh no internet for me, no keeping up with my fellow bloggers, no wasted hours of pointless surfing!! All of which I could (and did) live with, but my fear was that my networking abilities would continue to be compromised once I returned to Switzerland, so an appointment was made to see a 'Genius' at the Apple Genius Bar on Thursday. In Kingston-on-Surrey. 

On Tuesday evening we ventured into London to meet up with the Big G's boss for dinner at the Gay Hussar in Soho. We stopped briefly at a currency exchange right off Leicester Square to buy some Canadian dollars that I needed for my shengen visa applications (which we mailed from England due to the fact that I'm not allowed to apply while in Switzerland) and strolled through the heart of Soho to the restaurant where we had a most excellent evening with Andreas, good conversation, delicious food and the obligatory speculation about the manager, John Wroble whose Bela Lugosi accent and Old World manner makes one wonder if he's not a distant relative of Vlad the Impaler.

Wednesday morning it was sunny and haircuts for both of us were on the agenda. As we were leaving the flat, I looked in my purse to find my wallet was gone! The Horror!!! The Agony!! The Screaming Fit!!! I lost my wallet in Paris last spring and getting all my bank cards, credit cards and my ALBERTA driver's license back had been an enormous hassle. In fact, the only way to get a new DL is to present oneself at an Alberta Registry and it took me until November to get my license sent to me in England last time. I was, needless to say, most upset (this is a polite euphemism for a lot of swearing and moaning with the phrase 'F**k me!' being most prominent).I told my sad tale to Mark the stylist (whose part in this knobbly tale turned out to be pretty important), who was suitably sympathetic and then met up with the Big G to commiserate over a pint. 

Thursday morning I did a quick email check on Big G's 'petit ordinateur' and in big bold letters in the subject line was: 

GOOD NEWS! YOUR WALLET HAS BEEN FOUND!

The only thing in my wallet that gave any indication I was in England was the business card of my (now) friend forever stylist, Mark. When my wallet was found on the streets of Soho, after having all the cash in assorted currencies removed, the man who found it tracked me down via that card...goes to show, the old saying about your hair dresser being your best friend is true. The rest of the day was spent travelling around the suburbs of London, where it was determined there was nothing wrong with either my laptop or iTouch and meeting up with the Red Cap Warden of Oxford Street who returned the wallet, with the precious Alberta driver's license inside, to a very grateful and relieved me. My faith in human nature and the beneficence of the gods restored, Big G and I celebrated our last meal in Blackheath with a Thai feast at the incomparable and truly authentic Lai Cram. Our final walk home down Lee Park Road to the flat was blessed with a sighting of the Lee Park Road fox (who knows his name is 'Fox' and will stop dead in his tracks if you call him) and I took that encounter as a lucky sign for my ability to vanquish the shengen troll and have an easy return to shengen.

Stay tuned for Adventures in Knobblyland Part 2 where you will find the answers to these and many other questions:

Are there any good restaurants in Canterbury? 

Who knew you needed Lessons in Curtain Terminology?

Will Brite get past the Shengen Troll?

What the fuck is 'shengen' anyways?

Is schizophrenia a requirement to become a bureaucrat?

Basel Bild

So I promised some pictures of last week in Basel...it's always cold when I go to Basel, I think I need to go there in the summertime,I'm sure it's lovely with the trees all green and no slush or ice on the streets and no bise blowing.Then again, it's a truly lovely city in any weather...

 















And apparently lovely any time as well. Oh wait...you wanted Basel Foto not just Basel Bild...heh heh.

Here's the Rathaus or town hall just as the morning market out front was closing:

And a close up of the clock, because the Swiss have a bit of a thing about clocks (and watches and automatons and cows and....)

But I think my favorite place in Basel is in the Bahnhof, one of those early 20th century architectural odes to the mighty railway:

and housed within it's high ceilings is the infinitely entertaining, always tasty and without a doubt, odd, Bahnhof Bar.

 

Here one can quietly sip on a glass of wine or have a tasty and refreshing beer and people watch, 

marvel at some of the HUGE painting adorning its walls or just try to figure out what is happening in this picture? Artwork? Electrician's nightmare?

There are cats, eyeballs, blinking lights...EYEBALLS!!

Also to be had in the train station proper is the concoction known as the Asian poulet schnitzel sandwich, found only at the Migros stand and not to be missed!So after a lovely couple of days we said goodbye to wintry Basel and headed up to the flat in Gryon for the weekend where this was the view when I got up Saturday morning: 

Yeah, I love this country!

Travelin'

Off to Basel with the Big G for a couple of nights...filet de perche, cordon bleu, tasty Asian scnitzel sammiches and the world's most interesting train station bar. I'll try to take some pictures too!

Catch Up

So I know what you're all thinking (yes, you, the dedicated minions of boring blog readers),the nekkid rugby players were too much for my delicate sensibilities and I spent the summer in therapy.In fact, I spent the summer travelling back to Canada (consequently barring my reentry to schengen, but more on that later) where we stayed in a wonderful hotel in Montreal, the Auberge du Vieux Port then we went west for the Edmonton Folk Festival and enjoyed some magical, musical moments with Boz Scaggs, Chuck Brodsky, Loudon Wainwright and Steve Earle.After 4 days of music, beer tent, heat and people, we headed to Clear Lake for some peace and quiet at the hut.
At the end of August and Max and I flew to London while the Big G headed home to Switzerland and Max was allowed to return a week later in time for school. On the other hand, I am still here in the UK, exiled.

Paris Hit Big G In The Head

We took the Max to Paris last month, where he climbed the Awful Tower (actually we rode the elevator up because it was night and the stairs were closed), made him absorb some art at the Louvre and some history at the Musee de Paris,ride the Metro, wander around Notre Dame (and pose for appropriately touristy pictures) and let him drink beers at sidewalk cafes. A good time was had by all, except for the part where a street leapt up and hit Big G on the head and caused me to lose my balance and my wallet at the same time.Or maybe I lost my balance and that's when the street hit Big G in the head, and really, I have no idea what happened to my wallet.

Track Back



Sh Boom! The Big G and I off to London for a 'Marriot Weekend' tomorrow...life can be a dream!

Swiss Bit

So we got out of the house over the last week or so, traveled up to Basel on Monday and Tuesday (and missed all the feverish inauguration coverage) and took the Max up to Les Mosses to ski the weekend before last. I hadn't been on skis in a dozen or so years, but was pleasantly surprised how it all came back to me.Not so pleasant was the stiff and sore muscles the next day.

Up in Basel they were thawing out from the unusually cold weather all of Switzerland experienced at the beginning of the month, and the Tinguely fountain was a delight of ice and Tinguely mechanical weirdness.