Parenthood - Sort Of Imminent

For me, being frequently nudged in the tummy by Unborn Baby is the biggest spur to realising that parenthood is coming. For Reto, ikea-ing together the crib we bought the other day (and then lugged home on the train, which was not as inconvenient as it could have been but still, grr) was his kick in the stomach.

Sicko

Reto might have swine flu. That's a home diagnosis, but he's kind of flu-ey, quite feverish (although it's hard to tell how much because our thermometer seems to be pathetic, but he's reliably about 2.5 degrees warmer than me) and spends all his time loafing around in bed, overdressed and complaining about being cold. Fortunately my doctor went a bit hysterical about how he thought it was a good idea for me to have the vaccination (unlike the previous time I asked him about it, which was 6 weeks or so before, when he suggested it was a bit of a waste of time. I take the fact that he changed his mind as a good thing) and so I did have it a few weeks ago. I'd better not get sick.

Update: he seems to be much better today. His temperature is now the same as mine and his conversation is much better than it has been for days.

Big Scary Spiders, Swiss-Style

We found a big spider on the wall the other night. Reto panicked a bit (but not so much that he was incapable of taking a photo of it).

(with my hand for comparative purposes. Note also that the spider is completely non-threatening looking and could easily be nothing worse than the world's biggest daddy long legs)

As I always do, I took the humane option and caught the spidey in a container. The only convenient outdoor place to get rid of it was on the dead-ish basil plants on our windowsill, but since that window is opened pretty much every day, it didn't seem like the best option. So, possibly less humanely, I chucked the spider out the window.

If you were walking along the street 3 floors below our house the other night and a spider landed on you, I'm sorry.

Attacked By A Bear

Last Saturday we spent a pleasant afternoon in Bern, going to a museum, dawdling around and seeing the recently-opened bear park, the much less offensive replacement for the horrible bear pit. If we'd gone this week instead, it may have been kinda less pleasant.

Some lunatic climbed over the bear park's fence this afternoon and got into the enclosure of one of the bears. Unsurprisingly, he was attacked by the bear. A policeman shot the bear. The bear and the man are both alive but understandably injured.

Idiot.

Announcement

I've lost so much enthusiasm for this blog that I can't even rustle up the ability to announce this in an interesting way, so, to put it simply...

I'm pregnant! Quite a lot, actually (almost 5 months) but even if you saw me every day you probably still wouldn't know unless I'd told you (or if you came over to our house and saw the assorted books about pregnancy and ultrasound pictures lying around). I don't look pregnant, I didn't spend my days vomiting sadly into the toilet, and apart from the multivitamins and VAST numbers of iron tablets I'm taking every day (actually only 2, but there's a lot of iron in them), everything's pretty much business as usual. Except that I have a tiny baby girl living in my insides. Due in April. So that's nice.

Laundry (Again)

Annoying: someone leaving their half-done load of laundry in the only machine in our building for a day and a half (and counting). I tried to take it out today so I could do my washing, which was how I discovered that the load was only half done - water poured out all over me and the floor when I opened the door. Not that it's all that important that I get my laundry done (I have plenty of clean clothes), it's just annoying. As Swiss laundry always seems to be.

Forgotten News

Annoying festy things I forgot to mention:

The man who made an introductory speech before one of the films I saw and told us that the movie had a happy ending. Great. Just what everyone who's about to watch a movie wants to hear.

The time I left a very crowded Q&A after a movie, snuck out the convenient exit just near where I was sitting, only to find that the door at the end of it, which opened into the lane beside the cinema, was unopenable because some moron had parked their car in front of it. A security guard got the car owner to come and move it and so I was freed, but never mind the fact that these emergency exits (which I think was what this was) are there for a reason. I was pleased that when I tried to open the door I shoved it the 7cm or so that it would go before it ran into the car and that I was responsible for making a bit of a dent in the side of the car, and for getting some door paint off the door and onto the car. Idiot.

Festy Round-Up

I've spent the last week hard at work going to the Zurich Film Festival every day and watching a lot of movies. Nineteen of them, to be precise, and I'm surprisingly glad it's all over now. High points, low points and points of note include:

My undoubted favourite movie of the fest was Sergio, a documentary about the all-round impressive (unless you were his wife) UN dude who was killed in Iraq in 2003. Apparently the rest of the festy-goers didn't agree with me, because it didn't win the audience prize for a documentary, but had I been the only voter it definitely would have. Someone in my screening even gave it a standing ovation, so maybe he would have been allowed to vote too.

Feature-film wise, my favourite was a really grim Romanian/English movie called Katalin Varga which also didn't win the audience prize, but had far more charm than the really grim Russian flick that did.

I patriotically went and saw the only Australian movie on offer, Samson and Delilah, and it was also pretty grim. And dialogue-lite. And sort of slow moving, at least for the first half, but definitely worth it in the end. Plus I think we all took away a clear message from it - sniffing petrol is bad. In case you didn't already know.

The festy people really need to work on their ticketing skillz. Buying my festypass involved being sent to the wrong place twice, having gone to the right place in the first place and been told authoritatively that I was in the wrong place. I eventually got hold of my festival pass (which let me see all the films at the festival without having to pay more for anything), but then I still had to get individual tickets for the films I wanted to see, and I was never allowed to get a ticket for anything more than a day in advance. Which meant that every day I had to queue up and get tickets, and really, of the 7 times I did that, only once or twice did I manage to be given the right tickets without any drama. People gave me tickets to screenings on the wrong day, they told me it was impossible to reserve tickets for that movie (which was never true!), they told me that my pass only let me see one movie a day, they gave me ticket reservations instead of actual tickets (which meant I had to queue up again and get the actual tickets later). None of it was a real problem, but it was all very annoying.

All the movies (bar one) had english subtitles. Oh, and maybe another one which was partially in english and partially in russian and had french and german subtitles the whole way through. That is great, in my english-speaking opinion. It was also a very pleasant surprise when we stumbled upon the Lisbon film fest in May this year and found that everything had english subtitles there too.

I hate reserved seating and the Swiss mania for sitting in your reserved seat. And also the enthusiasm of the ticket sellers for allocating you a seat in the middle of everyone else (behind/in front of/next to people, even when 90% of the theatre is empty). Which meant I rarely sat in my allocated seat and lived in fear of someone coming and telling me to go away. Which they never did.

Some people are nuts. Reto came with me to one of the films I saw, a reasonably full screening of somethingorother, and our seats weren't next to each other because I hadn't bought the two tickets at the same time. There was a woman sitting between us. Reto asked her if she wouldn't mind swapping seats with him, and she said "okay, since they're only showing a DVD [as opposed to reels, I suppose] I guess it doesn't matter if I'm not exactly in the middle", and then she looked sort of grim-faced, as though it really did matter. Quite a bit.

Those chocolates that Globus gives you with your coffee are great. And I have a new-found respect for Brezelkönig as a meal-substitute, although if you buy their pretzels at 11pm as you're rushing for the last train home, they tend to be kind of old and dry and blergh (but still better than nothing).

Oh, and all that Roman Polanski bizzo - whatever. I find it sort of odd that so many people went so bonkers about saying how he deserves his freedom and he has paid his debt to society because .. well, look how good his movies have been. Whatever high profile guests the fest invites next year might be well-advised to look into any outstanding international warrants against them before booking their flights, though.

Conversation

When Reto got home last night:

Him: I've got a present for you!
Me: [understandably suspicious] Really? One you deliberately got for me or is it something someone else gave you?
Him: ...
Me: Did someone give it to you at the train station?
Him: No, it's better than that...

He hands over a nice little box of fancy handmade biscuits

Me: Ooh, yummy!
Him: A guy at work gave them to me.
Me: Why?
Him: Because I let him borrow my pants*.

Hmm.





* Reto has a suit at work for the occasions when he needs to look respectable. Apparently his (similar-sized but slightly taller, hee hee pants that are too short) colleague doesn't.

Electric Tea, Anyone?

A friend gave me a book a while ago about how to be more environmentally friendly when cooking. There's lots of interesting recipes in it, and all sorts of guilty-making statistics about how inefficient ovens and stoves are and how we should all be using toaster ovens instead, and then there's the very peculiar section on "electric teapots".

"Mention an electric teapot and most Americans are clueless. But to the tea-loving British, electric kettles are everyday appliances..."

And so on, about how kettles are great for making hot drinks and boiling water for making couscous and rehydrating mushrooms. Seriously? Kettles don't exist in America? I always thought it was weird that Reto's family never had a toaster, but no kettles?* Is it really true?





* Actually, now that I think about it, they don't have a kettle either. Which makes me wonder if it's us kettle-owners that are the odd ones out. I mean hardcore green cooks.

Serious

Yesterday I saw a blurb stuck on a tram window about how not to get swine flu (or any sort of flu, I suppose, but I guess swine flu was what inspired it), an ad on telly about how not to get (swine) flu, and a 12-step set of instructions in a museum toilet on how to wash my hands thoroughly.

Other than that I had a delightful day that was in no way blighted by the spectre of disease and death. We went to the Tinguely museum in Basel (which was sort of bad timing because it's mostly closed at the moment, preparing for new exhibitions which are opening next week. Still better that going to see the Van Gogh exhibition at the Kunstmuseum, though, because oh my goodness there was a massive ticket queue there both times we went past. Reto and I saw the exhibition on the easter weekend, which you would think would be a moronic time to go to something like that, and it was pretty crowded when we were there, but apparently the last weeks before it closes are much worse.), the high point of which was a toss up between this (the Meta-Harmonie 2, a giganto machine with all sorts of drums and keyboards and cymbals attached which, unsurprisingly, makes a bit of a racket when you press the "go" button and not in a delightfully musical way, either, in case you were getting your hopes up. More in a random banging of drums way) and lunch, which was veal with proscuitto and parmesan cheese and a red wine risotto, and although in general I completely disapprove of the mixing of meat (as in two or more types at once), this was ridiculously delicious. And the salad was great, and the coffee was great, and the restaurant itself was also charming. And then we went for a pleasant stroll along the river in the afternoon sun and watched children and dogs and the occasional adult frolicking in the water, and then we almost froze to death in our bed overnight when the temperature suddenly dropped about 45 degrees (possible exaggeration. I was forced to close the window, though, which I normally never ever do). So that was mostly delightful.

Not a Man

As I may have mentioned, I subscribed to french National Geographic a while ago, in a vague effort to inspire myself to read things in french more, and to look at all the pretty pictures. Getting them to send the first edition to me was a nightmare, because after about 6 weeks of nothing in the letterbox and several annoying-to-write emails (because they were in french) from me, followed by several annoying-to-receive emails (because they kept telling me that my address doesn't exist and the magazine is therefore undeliverable) from them, several editions turned up at once, and since then they've arrived regularly each month and there are no more dramas.

Unless you count the fact that they've suddenly become confused about who I am. The first 4 magazines that I got were addressed to Madame Robyn Surname. The most recent one was addressed to Monsieur Surname Robyn. Why? Why would they suddenly decide to change my name and my gender for me? Why? Why? I used to find this whole gender confusion thing that all these idiots over here have with my name funny and inoffensive. Not any more. NOW IT IS RELENTLESSLY ANNOYING. Just stop it, people. Grr.

Actually Still Summer

In spite of what I said the other day about it being like autumn these days, it's not really. I'm still happily getting around in tshirts and putting on sunscreen and not feeling cold. So imagine my surprise when I went to Coop today to buy an avocado and saw VAST QUANTITIES of christmassy biscuits offering themselves up to me in the biscuit aisle (actually it was the chocolate aisle. They always put the seasonal biscuits there instead of in the biscuit aisle, which seems odd)! Yes yes, everyone knows that supermarkets go mental putting out their hot cross buns in January, but really! It's still [here in crazy upside-down world where the seasons are not only at the wrong time of year but they don't even change on the right days either] summer! And not in a sensible summery Australian christmas (where seasonal biscuits are not invited) kind of way, either!

Anyway, all these giganto bags of my favourite version of pfeffernusse (the ones without the crappy chocolate coating on the bottom) were gazing out at me from the chocolate aisle and I thought to myself "This is ridiculous! It's still summer! That's half a kilo of biscuits that Reto doesn't like (he only likes the zimtsternen and I think they suck) and I'm never going to be able to restrain myself from scoffing the whole packet and feeling sick" and passed stoically on by with only my avocado to console me. Which I think was the right decision, but if I end up with a repeat of last year's debacle, where they eventually stopped selling my biscuits and only sold the crappy chocolate-bottomed ones before I had managed to have a scoffathon, I'm going to be VERY ANNOYED.

Happy Birthday Eric!

Hello Autumn!

The temperature is no longer in the 30s (it was really only last week that that happened), I noticed some trees turning autumny the other day, and the idea of a fondue is positively appealing. Yay for the end of summer! I realise that I whined constantly for 4 months or so about being cold and how I was looking forward to seeing the sun again, but I can't kid myself for long. I hate summer, and good riddance to it (although these ridiculous season-changing dates here means we do still have a few more weeks to go).

Realisation

I was watching "My Name Is Earl" last night when I realised that "uno" (as in the card game) is an actual word and not just a made-up name. Considering that I went to italian lessons when I was 4 and spanish ones when I was 24 and that, although I didn't stick with any of the lessons for very long, I am still FULLY COMPETENT at counting to at least one in both of those languages, you'd think I might have made some sort of connection at some point, but no, apparently not. Possibly the fact that we always pronounced it (the card game) "you-know" might have had something to do with throwing me off the scent.

Television, hey? It teaches you stuff.

Grr, Facebook

Facebook kinda sucks. It's recommending a friend for me, a woman who I met in Norway six years ago and who I've emailed once or twice since then (and I ran into her walking across the harbour bridge one day in Sydney some years ago. Apparently she was in Australia on holidays and she was leaving that afternoon on, coincidentally, the same flight as Reto. This was back in our long-distance days, so Reto was always coming and going, but still. What a coincidence. I was surprised we recognised each other, actually). Anyway, an email or two and years later here she is being offered to me by Facebook. I wouldn't have thought I even had her in my current email address book (I swapped emails a few years ago and I wouldn't have thought she would have made the list to come with me) but I guess I do and I guess Facebook made a note of her at some point and never threw it away.

I feel a little bit like I invited Facebook over for a nice cup of tea once and it hid in my cupboard and went through my stuff forevermore instead of leaving. Grr.


update: now they're recommending me some woman I've never heard of, have no friends in common with and don't seem to share anything else with either (like the country we live in or come from or anything).

Happy Birthday Kim!

Happy Birthday Steph!

That's some very poor wrapping. Speaking of which, Steph, have you got the present I sent yet?

Impressing The Relatives

My inexplicable french relative (which is to say, I don't know how to describe my relation to her. She's actually Reto's relative, probably my second cousin once removed or something, although I'm not Victorian enough to know what that actually means) and her two grandchildren turned up at our place fairly unexpectedly yesterday, and so our plans for going to see Los Abrazos Rotos at the completely excellent local outdoor cinema were thwarted for the sake of being tourist guides and having a nice dinner up the road (the fact that there are at least 4 more movies we want to see at the openair cinema in the next few weeks is a bit of a balm.).

Last time I met my inexplicable relative and her grandchildren (which was also the first time I met them, as well as being before I was related to them. R and I weren't even engaged then! Aah, the olden days) was a few years ago in France, at which time my ability to speak french was minimal to the point of entirely absent. We spent our time smiling well-meaningly and forcing Reto to be the interpreter. This time, however, I wowed everyone with my ability to be an adult and carry on a sensible conversation. It's remarkable how heartwarming it can be to have a 9-year-old compliment you on your impressive language skillz (although then his slightly older sister had to tell me what the word for a dam wall is, which detracted a bit from my sense of pride. As did the fact that the 9 year old was almost impossible to understand because he speaks soveryveryfast).