The weather here is my kind of weather. I don't get sunburnt. Already I can see what little I had of a so-called tan fading into blessed non-existence. All the fog and drizzle is heartening, and on those occasions when there is a miserably half-sunny day, I really appreciate it and I stand in the pathetic warmth with no fear, as mentioned, of being sunburnt. Admittedly my toes are usually numb and my fingers don't really function and my nose turns red every time I step outside, but at least I get to enjoy all the complaining that goes with that, and everyone gets to marvel at just how bad my circulation is. Plus there is something about the combination of my cold, cold hands and the toasty-warm stomach of an unsuspecting boyfriend that will never cease to cause me joy.
I have accumulated an enviable array of coats. This isn't necessarily something I had aspired to, but the recognition that I am relentlessly cold has led to the acquisition of this fantastic retro-carpet looking green thing (that Reto says puts him in mind of Kermit the Frog) and a super brown (fake) fur-trimmed coat that makes me think I should be out killing seals in a slightly glamorous way in Greenland or something. Both of which were heavily on sale, too, which makes it even better!
They have the wackiest flavours of yoghurt here. Never mind all that boring strawberry/raspberry/banana and passionfruit humdrummery, they take it far more seriously in Switzerland. Rhubarb, coffee, aloe (blergh), apple strudel, walnut, chestnut, you name it and you can probably find it. Actually, it kind of reminds me of this icecream stall in one of those Faraway Tree books that I used to read as a kiddy. This icecream stall said they could give you any flavour you asked for, and so one of the smart-arsier of the boys asked for a sardine ice cream, or something, which they then gave him and he ended up making a cat eat it.
You can't help but appreciate the cheese and chocolate, obviously.
Ditto the boyfriend, obviously. Now that he is not pretend any more (ie. I actually see him) I am starting to remember why I liked him in the first place. Oh, and look what he brought me from the army:
It's chocolate you can defend a nation with!
I like how peculiar everything is. You say hello to people relentlessly. You have to use the regulation garbage bags (this isn't really all that charming, but it is undeniably novel). When you want to pay in a cafe or similar, some waiter comes at you with the world's biggest purse and it's all settled at the table (none of this fancy "cash register" nonsense). There's a highly distinctive bonging sound at the train station when a train is arriving (not dissimilar to CityRail in Sydney, but not that close, either). There are ludicrous statues galore, and less ludicrous but equally plentiful fountains. You never really know what you are buying at the supermarket because everything is labelled in some weird foreign language(s).
I can happily ignore everything that everyone says, safe in the knowledge that they are unlikely to be talking to me, and that if they are, I am unlikely to understand them anyway.
There are swans everywhere and they are hilarious. I may prove this to you in photographic form at some stage.
It's a strange place. I'm glad I'm here. And one of the happiest things about being here is the fact that it offers me so many shiny new complaining opportunities.
* at least 2
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