tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57337535194041356392024-03-14T12:32:37.156+01:00Robyn's Sporadic Waffle Board... or how to waste time in the land of stupid laundryrswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.comBlogger567125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-64120106694895865072012-01-20T07:19:00.002+01:002012-01-20T07:29:26.618+01:00Today's ConversationReto: It's funny how often you see people wearing Lonsdale (brand) clothes here.<br />Me: Really? Why is that funny?<br />Reto: Because it's something that no one but neo-Nazis wears in Switzerland and Germany. <br />Me: Huh?<br /><br />Wikipedia <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lonsdale_(clothing)">elaborates</a>:<br /><br /><blockquote><br /><p>"<em>In the early 2000s, Lonsdale clothing became popular among some European </em><a title="Neo-Nazism" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neo-Nazism"><em>neo-Nazis</em></a><em>, allegedly because a carefully placed outer jacket leaves only the letters NSDA showing; one letter short of NSDAP, the acronym for Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, the German name of the </em><a title="Nazi Party" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazi_Party"><em>Nazi Party</em></a><em>.</em><em> Wearing a brand with no Nazi links in order to express Nazi sympathies helped bypass strict laws concerning the public display of Nazi symbolism.</em><em> In the <a title="Netherlands" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Netherlands"><em>Netherlands</em></a></em><em>, </em><a title="Belgium" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belgium"><em>Belgium</em></a><em>, northern </em><a title="France" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/France"><em>France</em></a><em> and </em><a title="Germany" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Germany"><em>Germany</em></a><em>, the term Lonsdale youth became widely used to describe teenagers with </em><a class="mw-redirect" title="Far right" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Far_right"><em>far right</em></a><em> tendencies, and the brand was banned from certain schools in the Netherlands.</em>"</p></blockquote>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-31311060323233078112012-01-17T07:37:00.003+01:002012-01-17T07:42:47.291+01:00b) am having another babyOoh, bad timing what with all the recent international moving! Not to mention all the weeks and weeks of cleaning and moving and temporarily staying in a few different places (and christmas and all the boozy potential that I once again missed out on). Then again, maybe it was good timing, what with all the heavy lifting and toxic cleaning products and festive hangovers I managed to avoid. <br /><br />Apparently it's a boy this time around, and he's due in May. I'm looking forward to seeing how the Australian experience of having a baby compares to the Swiss one (Switzerland has set a very high standard. Reto is sceptical about Australia's chances, but that might just be his extreme patriotism talking. Who knew he was an extreme patriot?). I'm also looking forward to see how we manage to agree on a name for baby #2, because as it turns out Reto has truly appalling taste in boys' names.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-88031072067282115062012-01-17T07:17:00.004+01:002012-01-17T07:45:23.631+01:00a) I've moved to Australia.. which is something that I've been not mentioning on here for quite a while now. It's a looong, involved and boring process to move to Australia if you are not Australian yourself, or rather, if you are the spouse and parent of Australian people but not Australian yourself. It's ridiculous, the hoops Reto had to jump through, the forms we had to fill in, the medical examination Reto had to undergo, and most significantly, the price we had to pay (about $2500 all up! Just for the luxury of being able to live in my own country with my own husband!). Anyway, after 6 short months it was all organised and now he's a permanent resident and we could even get divorced and he would still be able to live here forevermore (or something). And perhaps he'll even manage to be Australian in a year or so! Before I'm allowed to become Swiss, which seems ridiculously unfair.<br /><br />And how is it to be back? Hard to tell, so far. We only arrived the other day, and the jetlag (and, more specifically, Nonie's jetlag, which has us all waking up at 5am whether we want to or not) is a bit disorienting. It's hot. And was everything always so expensive here? It makes Switzerland seem like some sort of bargain paradise.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-52124660907965355152012-01-17T07:12:00.003+01:002012-01-17T07:16:51.350+01:00Hello!Well, never mind those 9 or so months of silence since my last post. Never mind the fact that the only people likely to notice that there is a new post here are probably people I know in real life who won't be shocked by all the plot developments about to be revealed. Never mind that Facebook now fulfills practically all my needs related to sharing my life with people a long way away (or nearby, whichever) and that my blog is totally superfluous. Just in case you don't know me in real life or haven't been paying attention, you'll no doubt be interested to hear that<br /><br />a) I've moved to Australia, and<br />b)am having another baby. <br /><br />Yoicks.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-9359683930629761422011-04-04T07:18:00.003+01:002011-04-04T07:37:30.050+01:00Take That!Well, as it turns out my baby sign antipathy has moved on a bit. As you will all recall (no doubt), I'm not a big fan of these signs, and complained a bit <a href="http://rswb.blogspot.com/2010/04/baby-on-board.html">when someone gave us one</a> when the No was born. Nonetheless, we dutifully hung it from our balcony (and never gave it another thought. We can't see it, after all. We will be taking it down next week when the No turns one, though. Next week! One! Already!). <br /><div></div><br /><div>The shoe was on the other foot when Reto became the godfather of someone, and we embraced our (his) duty to provide the geburtstafel and made (showing surprising drawing/sawing/painting skills we never knew we had) a <a href="http://rswb.blogspot.com/2010/07/how-good-are-we.html">completely excellent sign </a>ourselves.</div><br /><div>And now, such is our enthusiasm for all that DIY, that completely unbidden, without godparental duties or any sort of decent excuse, we made this completely fantastic sign for some friends who just had a baby. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591611291854116802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljNHx_YHAH2NZFAfXkMUBS3rEoJ3IO2VbkZ13hMAu7YSW3NHNrPbRv39bI2j6OK5EwXvIAl8i4AwvCLeu1s417iDM5Ywtglm7-8TKC0YOuInAlwWyAFCMQvC1eVViBWiZ_VHcJ_4UT44/s400/L1020183.JPG" />I think they might be baby-sign non-embracers too, but they did their best (hah!) to look pleased when we gave it to them, and now they really have no choice but to bung it in their front garden for all the world to see. And yes, we will be checking to make sure they do. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I must say, this is one gift that I'm really happy to be on the giving end of rather than the receiving end, but I really think that Reto and I did a great job with that dingo (it's a dingo, in case you couldn't tell. No, not really an animal that is associated with babies in a good way, but isn't it cute?). Any other baby-havers here in Switzerland who are friends of mine and unlikely to get a geburtstafel from anyone else .. watch out!</div>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-80948632070724587562011-03-30T10:22:00.005+01:002011-03-30T11:12:30.521+01:00Plane FoodWell, we're back from our Australian adventure (did I mention that?) and it was a delight. I'm not really sure where all the photos are, so in the meantime let me just say that it was super, and also wonder .. Why are childrens meals on planes so atrociously appalling? I don't even mean appalling in the way that all plane food has the potential to be revolting, but appalling in the sense that an average meal for the No included something revoltingly deep-fried and reheated, about three types of dessert and an extreme-sugar non-fruit fruit juice. We ordered the "child meal for infant" option (because the alternatives seemed to be a jar of baby mush, which she has never eaten, or nothing), so obviously they were designed for slightly bigger people, but still. Is this ideal? Give a kid some chicken nuggets, Oreos, a mars bar, chocolate mousse and a box of raisins and then hope he settles in for a nice 12-hour nap? And why all the Oreos? They came with almost every meal! Aren't plane meals usually at least a bit geographically influenced? When you're flying out of Switzerland you get a piece of gruyère; when you leave Australia you get cheddar. Who eats Oreos apart from Americans? Where were all the Tim Tams and .. (hmm, what biscuits do Swiss people eat?) ... läckerli? Blergh. I think we might order the veggo option for the No next time, and see if that is any less offensive. That being said, I do wonder if I'm being a bit hysterically food controlly with regard to the No. I have been told by assorted onlookers that it's mean not to give her chocolate, that she deserves a piece of cake, and that she would drink more if we gave her syrop (= cordial) instead of water.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-91619917689961023902011-02-19T10:48:00.000+01:002011-02-19T10:49:42.078+01:00Adventures in Menu TranslationsPigtail of iridescent shark. Huh?rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-89129454727659709142011-02-10T17:40:00.003+01:002011-02-10T17:55:35.672+01:00Possibly Forever After AllI found my diamond! Reto called the jewellery shop people and they said there was nothing they would do for me (apart from replace the stone at my expense), so I decided the time had come to actually look for the original. A quick minute or so of sweeping found it. It was on the floor under our toilet. I should have tried that days ago, but the potential for not finding it was a bit discouraging.<br /><br />Hurray for my reputation as the <a href="http://rswb.blogspot.com/2008/11/getting-older.html">finder of things</a> remaining unsullied (incidentally, I also found the lost beanie in that post). And hurray for my marriage not falling apart (symbolically or otherwise)!rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-32881871498628272062011-02-09T21:39:00.002+01:002011-02-09T21:48:20.035+01:00Hello!No has recently discovered the joy of waving. If she sees herself in the mirror, if anyone comes into view, if she drops a piece of fruit on the ground, if anyone says hello/bye/hoi/gruezi/tschuss/adieu/ciao (etc) within earshot, she waves like a tiny maniac. This arvo on the train she apparently wanted to engage a few strangers and it was so adorable to see them fall victim to her charms. Even the particularly childproof-looking man next to us who had both a book and ipod to absorb all his attention couldn't stand more than a few minutes of No's charm offensive before he was waving back and pulling silly faces at her. <br /><br />And they say the Swiss are a cranky bunch of grim-faced meanies.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-57175184377665651662011-02-09T09:16:00.005+01:002011-02-09T09:49:16.951+01:00Not Forever After AllLet me preface this by saying it's <em>never</em> me who loses things. I am the finder of things, everyone else loses stuff. When we bought our wedding rings, I thought to myself "The day Reto loses his, I'm going to be really annoyed". <br /><br /><div align="center">*<br /></div>The diamond has fallen out of my wedding ring! I'm so annoyed! I hardly wear the ring around the house these days, too, so having had a good rummage around my handbag and my jeans pockets, it seems really unlikely that I will find it again (not helped by the fact that it's pretty small). Fortunately Reto is on the case of harrassing the jewellery shop where we bought our rings to see if there's anything they'll do about it, so hopefully there's a happy ending somewhere out there, but in the meanwhile, grrr!<br /><br />On a more positive note, at least I didn't lose the whole ring (that would have been really really terrible, whereas just the stone is more annoying than anything else). Also, if I do have to have the stone replaced I'm thinking of getting something else, perhaps a sapphire, because what do I care for diamonds? <br /><div align="center"> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571602899490933970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinQKReEykntvw3FUsGQwyMNFHO7dWe63I7MCSZb1Q8QOrwnlXVt8cALv48GxldDEfMPhyphenhyphenocHkWtL9G0RSvaNsTSbL2tz6VIbgEdqDx2-EQ4tFX7pum4fRo1R8ywhWzhs8Hvvguu7cwag/s400/L1000932.JPG" /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(wedding ring, forlorn and empty, and just in time for our anniversary)</span> </div>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-66975497964891027102011-02-01T13:25:00.003+01:002011-02-01T13:39:35.069+01:00I got my annual letter the other day to go and renew my B permit (as in my Swiss residency permit). Normally it's pretty straightforward - turn up, give them a photo and the filled-in renewal form, pay the fee and a new permit gets posted out to me. This year they're making me give them my fingerprints and they want to take my photo themselves, and so the process has involved going to the foreigner office to hand in a form, being sent another form telling me to go to the post office to pay for the new permit and then going to the passport office to have all the biometric stuff done. 3 separate trips to places? Including no doubt having to queue for about 25 years at the passport office because it always seems to be chockers? Sigh.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-19719738641386432792011-01-31T10:08:00.005+01:002011-01-31T10:28:56.735+01:00Things I Haven't Done Recently<div align="left">The annual balloon festival was on at Chateau d'Oex (quite near here) last week, and we ummed and aahed and then didn't go. Reto was a bit sad because he's just bought a fancy (= expensive) new camera and missed out on an opportunity to use it, but then he had a look at the pictures he took when we went there a few years ago and was appeased.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568276338916871394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0NG8FkHjNqMJW6Y3Z9yk45EJGxiNXDmmhIEIJ274fuoaWRE1dAFfNlTD8CbFuB8e7jdRciBTV8GUYQ9Avc5I9SY9rQy7LRDav85aq55wOyiMEHGJ5BG_Tsr2ewkV2UyRRTovQdHZuP0/s400/P1010252.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568276140575263730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5zrxLI-Gu6-wB25_a5xAQJd2Qr5eMWkvsNuzOMvaYBxQ4p25RK-DWHsvXgHaFcs1pwxcYApjkK1tvfji9ddTDW1ImqHYm0WwAN4Sbh5jCjxGJmuQfQTFxWXbszcewotpp0q6QrW4dUk/s400/P1010191.JPG" /> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568275535335908962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingRaT0PkprWKaowdgfcxu4LBJS9hhh8_qYiJ_opgwJTur91d3W3JhsTy8B3CDL5Hmf4lxvUeF4_tVs0wo1KkHROXUZu02kSH7sjYM8haEx4o74WbWSoCNVbnrL42f7LFVmb1CEzoG_is/s400/P1010173.JPG" /></div>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-85405850357944739292011-01-17T14:21:00.003+01:002011-01-17T14:37:12.243+01:00Nonie UpdateYou'll all be pleased to know that No continues to be the cutest baby ever. As of this morning (and a visit to the doctor) she weighs in at a whopping 7.9kg, and 72cm (which is actually not whopping at all). Her latest skills include sitting up unassisted (although sometimes there is a bit of falling over involved), saying "doi doi doi" a lot, and flirting outrageously with every woman over the age of about 50 in sight. Really, we can't get through the shortest of bus trips without the No grinning and batting her eyelashes at every potential grandmother around, and thus forcing me into a conversation about how old she is, how adorable she is, how blue her eyes are, and (funnily enough) whether she's a girl or a boy. I am the master of baby small-talk.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563147978151582034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4yvGj1F4pPSKX6wIEJKbtKvQdgfmkF93w089oLPDvWowBhpKrcj15K7wObOIHL16tm4A53rHEI34dmnqpyXJcDU2NBjWDmxWSDQ_6XX94d6BTOr2Ykp8RZdxKFrlJPd8322akH3qxCA/s400/L1000248.JPG" />rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-57434016558430449512011-01-16T10:08:00.003+01:002011-01-16T10:23:02.590+01:00Token EffortI've been inspired to post something new on my blog, partially because, just now as I was having a look through it trying (unsuccessfully) to find something I may have written some years ago, I realised how entertaining and delightful it once was, and partly because one of my devoted fans recently asked me "Are you ever going to put anything new on your blog? I'm fed up with that stupid picture of snow" (or something similarly rude). <br /><br /><div align="center">-</div><br />"<a href="http://81.27.130.64/Page/Uuid/3ed30a30-1f5d-11e0-9a99-73e40676222d/LAustralie_sous_leffet_d%C3%A9vastateur_de_la_Ni%C3%B1a">Doodiwindi</a>"*? On the "Macyntyre river"? Seriously, <em><a href="http://www.letemps.ch/">Le Temps</a></em>, I know that Australia is a far-off and probably not even real land, but don't you have subeditors or something who can check that you don't just make up the names of towns? The Macintyre river misspelling wasn't too bad, but it is the river that ran through the town where I grew up, and therefore my outrage is disproportionate.<br /><br /><br /><br />* <span style="font-size:85%;">I assume this is meant to be Goondiwindi</span>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-25920759282737826522011-01-16T10:06:00.001+01:002011-01-16T10:08:40.936+01:00The Old New MeOops. For the second year in a row I forgot to take note of <a href="http://rswb.blogspot.com/2008/01/names.html">the anniversary of my new surname</a>. Which was about a week ago now. Happy 3rd birthday, my new name!rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-2313509955971519282010-12-02T11:11:00.008+01:002010-12-02T11:22:56.328+01:00Let It Stop Snowing/Isn't It Pretty?<div><div><div><div>Over the last few days I've been taking photos of the snow on our balcony in order to impress you all with the arctic conditions of my life. </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546026319260824754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQg6hlNAFGFDwbix5KnMHlor8dcYwka04V8K9jtlpiY5vdzg5eGdnB5YmwT-VJ7WGPjU7O9qPCy2lk8Ut8vhGaZdPtb5qYzwdOmpZlXMIMrNVcdvBAxcs9h_Xowo_ZBbfkFK90Y37A3Y/s400/DSC_5833.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(I can't believe I ever thought this was impressive)</span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546026867214655026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LHf-9Zz9doC93bdgmgvU7E8bmBzXn4TH_CbNqiZ0kRb1VAD-ON_3EwYACyqdp7czvqvmM4j6aCOGezwiplul5XGxx9OkkxREaLvNADFCelI898peD0L7Dy9CiV9fqZPGp-3tcDpbj7c/s400/DSC_5844.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(Getting better/worse, depending on which side of the wall you're standing on)</span></p><p align="center"> </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546027002230098162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNuafcwLCYvlDFOYwk_gXl4r2FsiAWed1pjwM6pRb9qKBcL8-lRX4F-y4tVqmX3feJL5czIWtW8eY63LOZCITJGFB3iK2GNL8OlZKEjrRSHyF5IWr-5Fh6EJjS2jvOtGgy5ekN_LzYsY/s400/DSC_5852.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(That's more like it. Or not)</span></p>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-22887838724991446942010-11-30T08:51:00.002+01:002010-11-30T08:53:53.997+01:00Snowy!So cold and so pretty!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545247746157282882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnTj44qaYzHWESvi665yGhVVf4JdFisasj6xaCadqthunrwkQivSLUDAnmh0NlJ8LfNTpykQPxJXmsMBCFU59d8e7fD6qnerEMnjNDkhmsyKGUGNyhCbX2rmxFHM_f4_yplDG7My4pfY/s400/DSC_5840.JPG" border="0" />Although it is sort of wreaking havoc with our pram, which has very small and uncooperative wheels that tend to get all clogged up and stop rolling whenever they are faced with mud or fallen leaves or even humid air. Or snow, as it turns out. I may stay indoors for the next few months.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-66187807609994367582010-11-22T10:48:00.002+01:002010-11-22T11:14:10.041+01:00Being UnpatrioticThings that are better in Switzerland:<br /><br />Television. Not really, but television ads are definitely a step in the right direction. I don't know exactly what the rules are, but if the show's less than an hour and a half or so long, you won't see any ads in it. Hurrah.<br /><br />Food you buy at outdoor events. Pluto pups and other revolting versions of things on sticks. Hot chips, fairy floss, meat pies and sausage rolls. Versus raclette, a sausage with a really nice bun and mustard, <em><a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%84lplermagronen">älplermagronen</a></em> (or whatever the spelling is. pasta and potato and a cheesy sauce with onions and apple sauce. mmmm, perfect when you're on top of a mountain and it's freezing) and <em>käsekuchen</em> (a savoury quichey thing, not to be confused with its literal translation, cheesecake, which is not even remotely the same thing), not to mention all those deep-fried desserty things, like apple rings with vanilla sauce (aka custard). Switzerland definitely wins here (although I would never say no to a nice warm cinnamon doughnut from the <a href="http://www.lionsclubs.org.au/">Lions Club </a>vans of my youth).<br /><br />Cheese. There's nothing worse than suddenly finding yourself in the mood for some interesting cheese on the way home when you're in Australia, and finding that all that's on offer in Coles is 8000 types of cheddar and a splash of feta. Not that there's anything wrong with cheddar or feta, but a bit more readily-available variety never hurt anyone.<br /><br />Christmas. I feel bad for saying that, and actually I'm not sure that it's even true, but I really do enjoy the wintery build-up to christmas here, the <em>glühwein</em> and christmas biscuits (even if I don't associate them at all with christmas myself), all the indoor eating-based activity. Not to mention the christmas lights and candles and decorations that all look so much more charming in the grim wintery weather. Actually, what I think I might be saying here is that traditional christmas things are much better in Switzerland than they are in Australia, and that it goes without saying that an Australian christmas should not try to confuse itself with a European christmas, because it's in no way the same thing.<br /><br />That is all.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-14146268883225739812010-11-14T17:30:00.006+01:002010-11-14T18:11:48.063+01:00The Calm Before The SnowWhat delightful weather we've been having lately, especially on the weekends! Last Saturday we went on an excursion to look at the Eiger, and had a lovely time forcing our extremely urban pram to cope with dirt roads (!), puddles (!!) and patches of snow (oh, the horror!). We were also accosted by tourists (I'm kinda loath to say they were Japanese, because it seems like such a cliche, but they were so there you go) who were so swept away by No's cuteness that they insisted on taking her photo a lot, which was hilarious and weird and lovely. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539449051501011026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcgesITvckQI4qc15zXGPVeVupvXllTgPkB7gvLmu-eHd8hWvw5daWfL8eYQau9l7gE6Amfeg8Kf5Yv4BS4kmuGUybscnhzkx04AVVUVAmmywPMskT7yCK4Otqm6EisgI_RJO3ikQJp8/s400/DSC_5743.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(The pram endures the outdoors)</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;"></span> </div><div align="center"></div>Oh, and we ate fantastic Swiss mountainy food (lots of potato and meat and things. We resisted the call of dessert, but really, you should have seen the meringue on offer. It was topped with what was described in the menu as "<em>viel schlagrahm</em>" (=lots of whipped cream. The menu was mostly translated into english as well, but the english translation for this bit left off the "lots". Maybe tourists in Switzerland will think that that is the standard amount of whipped cream on any dessert. Hmm), and they weren't kidding. The finished product was easily the size of my head, and every time one was brought out by a waiter, everyone turned and stared and giggled a bit. Which was nice.<br /><br />And then this Saturday we wasted the nice morning by doing a bit of Christmas reconnaissance in Bern (we've decided to put up christmas decorations for the first time ever, which means we have to buy some christmas decorations. R had very firm and surprisingly conservative ideas about what is and isn't acceptable in a christmas decoration, but I won him over in the end and now it seems I am going to have to talk him out of buying all the revolting jokey cat head/psycho squirrel/doughnut/ostrich-on-a-tropical-holiday type baubles that we saw. For crying out loud. He still refuses to consider tinsel, though. And I think he secretly wants real live candles with flame to put on the tree, but refuses to take responsibility if our house burns down) and then went to Thun and had a delightful time in the afternoon sun with the mountains and the lake and the apple strudel. How much longer can this last?<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539452750210002210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-HBor96jHXbX5yX9pfG62wRNhDHdoxIrTUC02cE3MEMoF3-qrGz5LR2gSwQZMRqKr5WAVbiqcH_6QBmshqDxp-D9NapvILpxPt9xjakO3iw-S1nVsWWYZXBCMyDI_uAc4ouDcIywQak/s400/DSC_5797.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(Dwindling afternoon sun near Thun)</span></div>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-12853759524666119742010-10-28T11:01:00.002+01:002010-10-28T11:05:18.075+01:00Where Do I Live Again?<div><div>Out one window,</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533035373608481186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-v9R0Sy-N6nfMAUuN6Brdu-Iv3FjznArF1oNihp_RYwoREnwAya6htmVvzmgDQZqgtHFyNZ1qlPtnAdDdGEzgnilv9IDe0UJQEJlpoMT9RahjbUxnYkIGWKd87N3lFQqjp4eGBVUGOA/s400/DSC_5638.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>and out the other<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533035742243506578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXNyzjDBc1lCTTt90SCbJdrpDvHgngOli9D-ejgyqp-Zm-LVp7CH7htK_WQG8sKqY9XvmENhEpXtMixJsuuEnbWRKEmWILmK2Q1wljeXtyaJ7MC_o-cuvRiZqBnEMzm_RAmi8556XrT8/s400/DSC_5642.JPG" border="0" />.</div></div>rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-65593087565097901782010-10-14T21:33:00.002+01:002010-10-14T21:41:55.426+01:00I Blame The BabyOh, and while I'm in a bit of a blogging frenzy, I'd just like to take the opportunity to say how sad I am to not have been to the Zurich Film Fest this year. This is the first year this century (!) that I haven't been an extreme attendee of at least one film festival, and sadly it's also the year that there was a bit of an Australiana theme at the Zurich fest. On the bright side, I did miss out on all that Zurich-and-back public transport tedium, the aggravating ticketing system and eating far too many (delicious) pretzels when I didn't have enough time for a proper meal.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-36110636374931192502010-10-14T20:28:00.004+01:002010-10-14T20:40:53.139+01:00Huh?I have serious problems remembering things that people have told me in french. Yesterday I caught the train to Geneva, and spent the whole trip (all hour and twenty minutes of it) sitting opposite a man with a one-year-old daughter. Babies being the conversation-makers that they are, we spent the whole time chatting, about babies, daily life, politics, the weather (when will all this stupid fog go away?), all the usual stuff. And really, by the end of it I could hardly remember anything he'd said. It happens every time a conversation goes for more than about 10 minutes. Which can be embarrassing.<br /><br />In other news, the Tiniest Australian (citizenship, check; passport, on the way) has started eating solid food. It's messy. I have some sort of unexplored hatred of the idea of feeding her pureed food, so we're going with the idea of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baby-led_weaning">baby-led weaning</a>, which means that she has spent the last few days sucking on chunks of bread, raspberries (which she seems to really enjoy, at least the bits that make it to her mouth and don't just get mushed into nothing by her inept baby hands), capsicum (ditto), pork, carrots and zucchini. And then wiping herself, me, Reto, all our furniture and everything she can get her hands on with a horrible mixture of pre-sucked food and slobber. What a cutie.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-2423880008273387332010-10-14T20:23:00.003+01:002010-10-14T20:27:37.641+01:00DisappointingI saw a cheese at Coop today called "Moron du Jura" and I was going to buy it for the sole purpose of putting a picture of it on here, but then I didn't.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-91383371484754427462010-09-23T17:09:00.002+01:002010-09-23T17:14:22.715+01:00Things that make the No cry lately: people sneezing, people blowing their nose, people laughing. Which is a bit of a bummer because I have a cold and we've been watching <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0496424/">30 Rock</a> on telly.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733753519404135639.post-50394675290804356142010-09-10T14:08:00.004+01:002010-09-10T14:15:57.160+01:00Really?Did I never put up a single picture of the No? Okay, here's one:<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515272538433101090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqqoLsTG_jB9asodhjNKSC9WNFSR_g2dH8KsE0EUZf0dj7fHkk8nQlv4duY6G_5Q7nKPT0hyphenhyphenvlKvzQWeHgpnX_6xgmPTp6TNuMJjZacgzvGzrdIgffXqN5Y07x2oR6rP2mdkjahzjTIg/s400/DSC_5284.JPG" border="0" /><br /> Who knows why she's so sad. I suspect it's all an act.rswbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18012776363244113631noreply@blogger.com1