Sigh (part 2)

I was out having lunch today in a weird suburb that I never go to and where I don't know anyone, and I ran into someone I know. We had a chat and it was lovely. The other day I was in a bookshop in the city and I was waiting to meet a friend and I ran into someone else I know (actually, I don't really know her but we have met a few times) and we had a chat and it was kind of weird (I don't know her name, nor anything about her at all) but lovely. In a shop just a while ago I was having a chat with the sales person and she told me a story about some mentally disabled kid she knows who stole a fairy penguin from the aquarium (the penguin was later found alive and well in the kid's school bag, and I guess it was repatriated to the aquarium). This sort of stuff doesn't happen to me in Switzerland, and now that it seems to be happening so much here, I am going to miss it when it stops.

A lot of my conversation these days seems to be about how I am sad to be leaving Australia again. I had my legs waxed yesterday and as it turns out I seem to have some sort of disorder that makes me blather incessantly when I am having my legs waxed, possibly in an attempt to stop me from surprising myself by yelping in pain. Anyway, I was blathering away inanely, and eventually, after harping on about all the bad things about Switzerland (which you must admit makes for much more entertaining conversation than telling everyone how happy and in love and jet-set you are) I told my waxing woman that I would never recommend an international boyfriend to anyone. Which, in the warm fuzzy light of sitting on the couch at home and not having people cruelly ripping things out of my legs, seems a bit harsh and untrue.

In fact, I am quite looking forward to getting back to Switzy. I can't wait to see Reto, and I am looking forward to a bit of summery weather (although it doesn't sound like there has been much), to sitting on the balcony and having a gin, to forcing myself to learn german (grr. I am not looking forward to that at all, actually, but I am looking forward to it being over, or at least easier) to eating an elaborate range of cheese and so on. It doesn't mean that leaving isn't difficult though.