Happy Holidays!

Dearie me - I can't believe it's been nearly a month since my last blog update! The following has happened in these past few weeks:

- I signed a new contract to stay in Zurich for an indefinite period of time. Or at least until I've managed to eat every single piece of Swiss chocolate that I can lay my hands on.

- I went to Paris during Christmastime, and had the most wonderful time with someone wonderful. There was an attack of the snow, but it made everything that much more beautiful:



- Because of the holidays, there are chocolates everywhere, especially at work. As a result, I have now turned into a zombie who just trolls all the floors in the office building, looking for my next chocolate fix. I walk up to random people's desks, take any chocolate that I see lying around, and then walk away. I hear there's talk of staging an intervention to help me make it out of this. I hope they have chocolate at the rumored intervention.

- A direct side-effect of the above situation has been an exponential expansion of my ass. It is as wide as Pluto the planet now and shows no signs of shrinking anytime soon.

- I hosted my first cheese fondue dinner, and it was heavenly! I would like to show you pictures of said event, but I was too busy eating all the food to remember to take pictures.

- I have been eating so much fondue that I'm basically starting to look like one.

- I upheld my annual December tradition, and lost one glove last week. I now have five left hand gloves, because I keep losing the right one on a different mode of public transport. Every year. For five years in a row. Just one of the many reasons why I need therapy.

- Managed to take some pictures of the Christmas tree at Paradeplatz:



- And took some pictures of Zurich in winter:



I'm now off to London for Christmas and to Birmingham for New Year's Eve. So in case I don't get around to updating this blog anytime soon, here's wishing everyone Happy Holidays and hope you have a wonderful New Year!

Back in Zurich

Two illnesses, a dozen pair of shoes, and a bagful of clothes later, I'm back in Zurich! Work has been busy, and I'm already planning my Paris trip!

We had our first real snow today, and to say that this place is beautiful is an understatement. I feel like I'm in paradise, surrounded by white mountains and Christmas lights that are shining bright. I walked around a bit today after work and took some pictures of the Christmas Tree at Paradeplatz (the main square), and hope to take some more tomorrow during the day. I hope to be able to share some tomorrow.

In the meantime, here's something to keep you entertained. Apparently I wrote this poem about two years ago, when I was single, fat, and I had drowned my third plant by over-watering it, and when I was feeling fat:

Plants are drowning
ass is expanding
Oh brother when will I stop pretending

That my life is sweet
Even though my butt is falling off the seat

On Friday I go to bed at midnight
And dream of Tom and Jerry wishing me goodnight

There is no man who I want to hug
So I end up drinking coffee in a mug

And then on Saturday I go around hopping
because I have found the greatest cure of all - shopping!

You may go ahead and call me pathetic now. You are allowed. Das ist alles.

Greetings from a land far, far away!

Greetings earthlings! As most of you know, I'm currently on vacation in Mumbai, India. I grew up here until I was about seventeen, which is when I moved to the U.S. for my undergrad and since then have come back once every two years or so. Everytime I come back, I'm struck by just how fast the city is changing. It feels like I'm visiting a different city every time. The infrastructure, the stores, the fashion is much more different now than it was a decade ago; everything is more "western" and "hip" now. But, there are still many things that have stayed the same, and I suspect will continue to stay the same for generations. Here's a quick recap of things that haven't changed since I moved back - this is how every visit of mine has been for the last ten years!

So yesterday I woke up super early, because by 8am, the doorbell had rung at least five times, and the phone at least three. The hardest was when no one would answer the home phone because everyone was busy talking on their own cell phones - then it would keep ringing incessantly! Finally I just gave up and stormed out of my room and foolishly thought that trying to fall asleep in my parents' bedroom, since they were already up, would help with the situation. But oh how wrong was I! It just got worse in their room, because the sound of the doorbell is the loudest in there! Eventually, I had to give in to the powers of the universe and just wake up. I brushed my teeth and walked into the dining area, where my mom promptly started shoving food in front of my face. For a second I thought I was still dreaming, but as soon as I realized that this, in fact, would be my new reality for the next couple of weeks, I was in love. Before 10am, I had eaten a sandwich, some fruit, juice, and cookies. At around noon, I went to visit my grandma and granddad, who live down the road from us.

As soon as I got to theirs, the first thing everyone did was yell at me for "losing too much weight". I'm convinced that this weight loss thing is a figment of their imagination - I mean we've all seen how I eat. It would be physically and metamorphically impossible for me to have lost weight with all that food consumption! Sidebar: One thing you need to know about Indian families - they consider it their right and responsibility to comment on your weight and your looks. It's like they can't go to bed at night without sharing their observations on your appearance, and any sarcastic comments about it will just bounce off them. And this isn't just your immediate family - your friends, neighbors, their friends, their neighbors, everyone has this unstoppable and compulsive urge to tell you how they think you look. My freshmen year I gained the freshmen 30, and as a result I came back as an inflatable device. Everyone, and by everyone I mean everyone that I met - my neighbors, friends, family, extended family - felt compelled to point out to me that I had turned into a flotation device. I tried sarcasm and told them, "oh really? I had no idea that I got fat - that's not what MY mirror told me!" But this just bounced off them and they took that seriously! So after a while I just gave up and would nod my head anytime we talked about my fatness :-P

Anyway, when I got to grandma's, due to her neurosis that made her think I was too skinny, I was promptly fed Indian sweets and snacks. It was good to see her and my granddad (my cousin and my aunt were also home), but both GM and GD aren't feeling too good, so I hope they get better! Another sidebar: Something else you need to know about living in India - your life here revolves around that of the maid's. Maids are very hard to come by, so once you actually find one, you do your best to make the world a happy place for her. You feed her, care for her, make sure she's satisfied, and of course, pay her. You wouldn't dare criticize her, even if she does a sucky job, for fear of abandonment.

We have two people who we employ: A guy called Rakesh who sweeps and mops all the floors in the house, dusts, and cleans the bathrooms. However, the "main" maid, Pinky, is far too important for such menial tasks. She does do the dishes, but most importantly, she hangs the washing, folds and puts it away, chops all the veggies, runs errands for my mom, and puts everything away to its rightful place in the house. I have lost track of how many times in the past I had called my mom to chat, only to have her tell me that she couldn't talk to me because "Pinky was here." My mom would turn into a walking zombie without her, I'm sure of it. The reason I tell you all this is because when I was at my grandma's place, I received a frantic call from my mom demanding that my brother and I head back aSAP, because, "PINKY IS HERE TO DO THE DISHES!" We hadn't had our lunch yet, so we had to rush back to eat, just so we could give those dishes to rinse to Pinky as well. So, we ate as fast as we could for dear old Pinky.

We then hired a rickshaw, and took it to go meet up with my dad close to his office. I hate taking rickshaw's anywhere, they are loud, and they don't have doors so all the dust gets in your face, but most importantly, riding in them messes up my hair because of the dust and the wind. They are really easy to come by; however, so it's much easier to hire one of those than wait around for a cab, especially in the part of the city that we live in. We met up with my dad, who drove us to this new mall that opened up downtown, and we shopped around for a couple of hours, before heading out to dinner. The clothes and the fashion for non-work clothes that you get here is pretty similar to what I would get in the US; in fact, many of the clothes that I end up buying in the US are actually made in India. I bought a cute ruffled tier skirt, a black and white printed sheath dress, and a long top that can masquerade as a dress if I wanted it to. If you're a guy reading this, then I know the outfits description means nothing to you, so just nod and pretend that you understand what I mean :-P

Today is Diwali, which is our "Christmas," so the plan is to go to a really nice place for dinner with the extended family. I hope to be back sometime next week to fill you in on more details about the trip, and also to share with you the number of lunches and dinners I've had. The tally so far: 6 lunches and 4 dinners in 3 days. Let's see if we can top this next week!

How a boy named Jon ruined my life

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, a wonderful family was blessed with a beautiful baby boy. The parents named this seemingly lovely boy Jon. However, unbeknownst to them, Jon was, in fact, evil incarnate. On the outside, his cherubic appearance with his messy hair and HarryPotteresque glasses made people warm up to him really quickly. His typical British sense of humor, often dry and quirky, made him a darling of the masses. He quickly developed a following and dubbed all his followers as members of the "Jon cult". But, no one knew of the evil that resided in him. His true colors were not to be releaved until a little later in life, when he moved to a beautiful city called Zurich.

Halfway across the universe, in a city called New York, lived a lovely girl called Jigz. She was described by her friends as entertaining, full of life, and fun.However, she was also hiding a deep, dark secret. A terrible secret that almost no one knew about. She was a recovering addict. Jigz was addicted to the game "Bejeweled" on her cellphone. It was a serious, debilitating condition that had a profound impact on all aspects of her life. While riding buses and subways in New York, she wouldn't even look up from her phone to acknowledge other fellow human beings. Numerous times, she found herself missing her bus stop or her subway stop because she was so focused on her game. In a little over two years, she had played over two thousand five hundred games on her phone.

One day, when she found herself reaching for her phone at two am on a Tuesday night, she knew that she had a problem. Not one to dwell on a problem without finding a solution for it, Jigz immediately started talking to people about it and sought help. The first thing she did was to hide Bejeweled from the Menu display on her phone. "If you can't see it, it can't tempt you," is what she would say. After a lot of soul searching, she realized that the only way she could get completely cured of her addiction was by moving to a new country, even a new continent. She needed to get away from all that was familiar, and move to the new. After a long wait, Jigz finally moved to Zurich. And that's where she met Jon.

Jon, who finally saw the perfect prey, a woman with addiction issues, immediately pretended to be nice, warm, and friendly. Pretty soon, Jon and Jigz became good friends. Trusting him, Jigz confessed to him about her past addiction issues. Jon, playing the sympathy card, pretended to care, and promised to help her, should she ever relapse. What he didn't mention to her was that he would be the catalyst in causing such a relapse. Such was her trust for him that Jigz even showed him exactly where she hid the game "Bejeweled" on her phone. Jon leaped at this opportunity. One day, when a group of people were out for dinner, Jon took Jigz's phone, and started played Bejeweled on it. In front of Jigz. Not only was she horrified at such a blatant display of breach of trust, her dormant addiction was now awake and kicking again. Jon, being the true evil that he is, then saved the game on her main Menu. Everytime she would reach for her phone, the game would now be in front of her eyes. Daring her. Taunting her. Enticing her.

Jigz tried to resist as long as she could, but she is human, after all. She finally succumbed. Now, before even brushing her teeth in the morning, Jigz has to play a game. Before going to bed, she has to play a game. While waiting for a tram, while ordering food, even while doing yoga! She now looks like a deranged lunatic who is unfit for society. All because of a boy called Jon. But will good ultimately triumph over evil? Can Jigz get over her addiction once again? Is she strong enough to stop Jon from destroying another life? Or will Jon take over the entire world and ruin everyone's lives? Come back here to find out what happens next!

Tell me what you want to hear

I am OBSESSED with this song right now - I can't stop playing it over and over and over again:



Today I went to Julie and Carla's for yet another gluttonic event. If gluttonic is not an adjective, well, it should be one. As I have done in the past, this time I didn't eat anything all day before going over to their place, and as usual, it was SO worth it. About 10-12 women feasted on veggie enchiladas, picco de gallo, avocado-mango salad, some pork thing, beans and nice, cinnamon rolls, and copious amounts of other drinks. At one point, I had to be in the horizontal position for a good fifteen minutes, in order to facilitate breathing, which was restricted because of all the eating.

Once I was able to move into a vertical position again, I rejoined the conversation, which, to my delight, revolved around food. After being completely satiated, we proceeded to play Monopoly, where certain people, who shall not be named, did end up creating monopolies and taking away all the money from the little guys. But not me! I decided to fight against the establishment, and even tried to start a revolution! But I guess everyone else wanted to build houses and hotels and spaceships, so my partner Carla and I had no choice but to join the capitalistic society and build some houses of our own. But after a while, I cried out and said, "Enough! Is this the kind of world that we want to bring our children into, where all people want is MORE? Let's all go back to a simpler time, when we helped each other out, and cared for each other. Let's end this insanity, once an for all, and let people pass by our houses and hotels without having to pay rent." Okay fine, I may have made a couple of bad real estate calls, which may have led to Carla and me getting kicked out of the game. But I'm sure had I survived another round, I would have given the exact speech that I just quoted.

I got over my loss against capitalism by eating cinnamon rolls and having Irish coffee. How I managed to even walk out of their place and get back home, I don't know, but I'm glad I did, because I am currently in a food coma. In fact, I think even typing anything more is difficult, if not impossible, so I'm just going to put an end to this and go to bed. Hope you had a good, food filled weekend!

Ramblings of a hungry mind

I accidentally ended up eating two dinners, and as a result, I had to stay in the horizontal position for a good hour. But as soon as I got vertical, hunger for dessert beaconed, and I ended up having a big piece of leftover Swiss roll for dessert. Result: I am now back in the horizontal position.

Today's post was supposed to be about our visit to Montreux, but I realized that I hadn't shared an STIDT in a while, so I figured it was time for one. Today, while sitting by my desk at work, in a span of 3 seconds, I dropped my ID, and when I bent to pick it up, my glasses fell off my face, and when I bent down to pick them, up my handbag fell on top of me. Yes, all this happened sequentially and yet almost simultaneously. But, as usual, none of this was my fault. The culprit, in this case, was the stupendously delicious chocolate muffin that I had earlier in the afternoon. Gooey and chocolaty on the inside, soft and welcoming on the outside, it was a forkful of perfection. This decadent, sinful delight has changed me forever. I am a born-again optimist. I am now convinced that nothing can be as bad as it seems, as long as you have a muffin in your life.

I would have taken a picture, but before I could even take in my first deep breath, muffin was demolished. Nothing was left. I was literally scraping the bottom of the paper to get every tiny little piece that I could. But it was worth it. I'm pretty sure that last bit of muffin was what gave me the epiphany that changed my life forever. Now if I could only get my hands on another one of those tomorrow, I will be able to achieve Nirvana. Moksha. Whatever you want to call it. I'm just one chocolate stuffed chocolate muffin away from it. Here's hoping that the powers that be that control the muffin supply are paying attention to this!

Oktoberfest Shenanigans

Ladies and Gentlemen, the wait is now over! After an over extended hiatus, I'm back in the world of blogging, and with a backlog of stories that I need to share. We'll begin this return with details about the Oktoberfest trip to Munich:

Oktoberfest, an annual three week festival, takes place in the Bavarian region of Germany. During these three weeks, it traditionally attracts around six million people from all over the world. I'd tell you the historical significance of this festival, but that would require me to check Wikipedia, and since boredom levels are insurmountable, that's not going to happen. It's mainly known for the copious amounts of beer that is available and is consumed.



Now, most of you know that I don't drink beer, so every time I told someone that I was going to Oktoberfest, they gave me the same perplexed look that we all had when we found out that Justin Timberlake could act. The look said, "Really? You? How?". Having never attended Oktoberfest, or any beer related event really, I convinced myself that I could always just get a glass of wine at a beer tent in Munich. Go ahead, you can laugh. Everyone else already did. Anyway, with a carefully formulated plan that was based solely on naiveté, my friend C and I left for Munich by train. We were to meet up with my BFF Dev, who was already in Munich, and then meet up with J and S, a couple of other friends, who were taking a later train to get there. I spent most of the time sleeping and thinking about what I wanted to eat for dinner. I mean, if I'm not thinking about food at least once a minute, then who am I, really? We finally made it to Munich at around five in the evening, dropped off C's bag at his hotel, and made our way to Dev and my hotel.

Having not seen Dev in over six months, my excitement levels, which each approaching moment, were out of control. In fact, in my excitement, I got us lost on the way there. A genuine mistake, one that anyone would have made, I'm sure. We finally found the hotel, and Dev and I shrieked loud enough to cause the building to shake. There was plenty of incoherent mumbling and a lot of blubbering. C, being a guy, didn't know how to react to this, so he resorted to admiring the dull, white paint on the walls. We caught up on six months of gossip as fast as we could, and then met up with the rest of the boys - J, and S - who, by now, were in Munich.

We all proceeded to have dinner, a whole FIVE HOURS after my initial plan, mind you, but the food was delicious, so I had no complaints. We then made our way to a Beer bar, where, based on my naive plan, I ordered wine. The woman looked at me funny and got me orange juice instead. That's when I realized that my "wine at a beer place" plan was deeply flawed. Now the question was - do I leave aside all my prejudice and give beer a shot, or do I continue to hate it and then just end up having nothing but water at Oktoberfest? Keep reading to find out what happened...

Shenanigans take a new turn...

Since the men - C, J, and S, had no semblance of a plan on how to approach Oktoberfest, such that we could get in without having made reservations at any of the tents, Dev and I decided to take control of the situation and informed everyone that we would meet at the actual Oktoberfest venue at 8:30 the next morning. The boys assured us that they would be there and that we needn't worry. They also assured us that they had directions to the place, and with their GPS, Google Maps on phones, and BatSignals, there was no possible way that they would get lost. Being women, we should have known better, but we decided to trust the guys anyway. After shaking hands on the verbal agreement that we had just created, we parted ways at around 1am - the guys went to their hotel, while Dev and I went to ours.

The next morning, we - and by we I mean the women - were at the designated meeting point at 8:30 in the morning, complete in wardrobe, hair, and makeup. Even though the day was cold, rainy, and dreary, we were ready to partay at a moment's notice. We waited around for fifteen minutes for the guys, and then called them for an ETA. And whatdoyouknow- they were LOST. In MUNICH. They couldn't find Oktoberfest. IN MUNICH. It bears repeating and can't be written in lower caps. We just told them to follow the crowd. I mean, thousands of people walking in on direction is hard to miss, right? RIGHT? WRONG! Apparently, trusting a freaking GPS is better than following a million people. So, with the help of this wonderfully trustworthy GPS, the boys found themselves in Cambodia. Well, not really, but they might as well have been! Upon calling them 134th time and being told that they were "only ten minutes away," we knew that we'd see them one day, when we were grey and old. So we did what any normal women would do under these circumstances - we went and got a pretzel. The pretzel was as big as a house, but hunger levels were high, so it was demolished in no time.

An hour, I repeat, an HOUR later, the boys found us. I was ready to unleash my hour long pent up rage, but looking at their cold, wet, and sad little faces, I couldn't muster up the energy for anything more than resigned shaking of the head. That's right, they walked around for an hour in the rain, without an umbrella. Because apparently, not only do real men walk around following GPS systems that don't work, they also don't believe in the power of an umbrella.

Anyway, after giving them numerous disappointing looks, we made our way into the Paulaner tent, which was one of the bigger tents at the festival. The mood inside was - haha - very festive, with people breaking into song and dance spontaneously, and music playing everywhere:



And, guys and gals, this is where history was created.

What history, you ask? Well, this location, this tent, is where, for the first time, I had beer. Yes, you read it here first, I had beer. And it wasn't bad! Not that I'm going to line up for the next beer event, but the fact that I managed to have some beer and live to write about it is historic in it's own way. Here's a Kodak moment that captured said history:



After hanging out in the tent for nearly six hours, the five of us decided to venture out in the daylight and change locations. And this is where technology played havoc again. C, who had the power of Google Maps that led the boys the wrong way, had run out of credit on his prepaid cellphone, so as soon as we got out of the tent, he promptly got lost. Because that's what men do these days. They get lost when left unchaperoned for more than a minute.

Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think finding a white guy in a crowd of hundred thousand in Germany is exactly a piece of cake. Dev and I took control of the search and rescue operation and organized search parties among the four of us who were still standing. After a couple of hours, we decided to head back to the hotel, hoping that he'd be there. One of us had the idea to try and refill his cellphone on our own, so we finally organized an international search party by calling someone in Zurich to go to a local store and have credit added to his phone number.

Eventually, we found him, and upon asking him what he had been upto, we found out that after walking around for twenty minutes, he got hungry and went to McDonalds for some burger and fries. While we were working on a route for the search party. He was eating fries and having a McFlurry. At one point, due to my vertical challenges, I was standing on top of an overturned beer barrel to find C, while he was having a McFlurry. This is why women need to rule the world - at least we aren't distracted by food! Okay fine, I can be, but when in crisis mode, even copious amounts of pastries and chocolate wouldn't make me budge from the task at hand! Anyway, all's well that ends well, and the only way this could have ended well was with food, which it did. We went to another German restaurant, where I had the most amazing Pumpkin soup I've had! Satiated, the failed search and rescue operation of the morning was almost a distant memory. With emphasis on the world ALMOST.

On our last morning there, C, Dev, and I went on the Third Reich Tour in Munich, where we learned about the rise of Hitler, before he moved to Berlin. Here's a look at the Beer Hall where Hitler gave his first major speech:



The tour was extremely informative and educational. We walked in the footsteps of people who reshaped world history and tried to get a glimpse into life in Munich in 1933. In conclusion, the Munich trip had it all - humor, drama, suspense, and history. It was a wonderful trip with some truly awesome people - even though many of them were incapable of following instructions and hid in McDonalds during search and rescue operations :)

I am alive!

I promise! Unlike some people, I did NOT get lost at Oktoberfest. I've just been insanely busy with work and with my BFF who's visiting me from New York. The Oktfest crew also went to Montreux this weekend, and to say that I felt like I was in paradise would be an understatement:



I am going to spend a massive amount of time this weekend updating the blog with details about the Munich trip, which will include:

- Triggering a philosophical debate on why men can't ask for directions even when they are obviously lost

- A short story about what men do when they are lost in a crowd, while others are conducting a massive manhunt for them

- Answer to a burning question: Does what happened at Oktoberfest ever really stay at Oktoberfest?

- An explanation on why wine tastings will be the death of me

- Discussion point: Is there ever such a thing as "too much wine?"

Stay tuned for more! Until then, I leave you with a visual teaser of what's to come:

Life happened

This month has been really busy - between finalizing my long-term career plans, figuring out some personal stuff, and the return of Fall TV, there hasn't been any time to blog about:

- Watching some really terrible movies

- Visiting the dentist in a country where English, though widely spoken, is still a second language

- Debating whether the term "cougar" really even applies to women who are under 30

- Doing my first ever 10K run and promptly dying at the end of it

- Going through the agony of only being able to eat three meals a day for two consecutive weeks due to stress

I'm off to Munich this weekend for Oktoberfest, which should be interesting because I don't even drink beer! I also get to meet my BFF from New York who is currently in Berlin - can't wait to catch up with her on all the gossip!

I hope to come back sometime before the end of this decade to blog about Munich, and about some additional traveling that I plan on doing within the next few days. Until then, May the force be with you!

Things I don't miss about New York

Along the heels of the Top Five things I miss about New York, I had compiled a list of a few things that I didn't miss about the Big Apple. But after reading my blog, and then reading this article, another friend of mine, who also moved from New York to Zurich, went a little bit crazy and compiled a list of 32 things that he hated about New York. His list was so hilarious that I decided to post a few items from it, with permission, of course:

- Grand Central Terminus

- Taking NJ Transit

- People always wanting to go to a specific place

- People lying all the time by saying, "Queens is not SO bad after all"

- People exaggerating the size of their apartments

- People not admitting that a rat in the house is ACTUALLY disgusting

- People always demanding that YOU do something fun on the weekend, because if you dont, like OMG, like you are such a loser! What do you mean you will cook and read???WTF!

- Every one pretending to be making 'six figures' or more, even when they are barely scraping by

- Plainsboro NJ (or anywhere with no hot dog vendors and traffic, sirens and smoke) being considered quaint

- Anyone (which is mostly everyone) who walks around the city with their eyebrows perpetually in a raised position

- People running to catch subway trains, knowing there's another one coming

- Guys standing around swiping subway cards for no reason

- Women yelling at their kids to 'shut the f#$k up'

You may not agree whole heartedly with everything on it, but you must admit, it does make for an interesting read!

What do I miss about New York?

I've been here for close to six months now, which seems incredibly long, and yet the time here went by unbelievably quickly. In honor of this realization, I thought I'd compile a list of the Top Five things that I miss about New York:

- FALAFEL. I can't explain how much. Indian Food. Thai Food. Food. FOOD FOOD FOOD.

- Shopping. The next time I'm in New York, I'm going to hug Macys, make out with Ann Taylor, and have a wild fling with Banana Republic.

- Lifelong friends - and the convenience of just picking up the phone and yapping with them for hours, or making an emergency Viniero's strawberry cake run at 2am.

- Grocery stores being open on Sundays - I never thought I'd miss Whole Foods as much as I do!

- The energy of a big city - the hustle and bustle, and the rudeness, and the jaywalking.


The list of Top FIVE things that I don't miss will be up tomorrow! I know at least half the things in the above list are food related, but honestly, would you really expect anything different? Can anyone else who's an expat relate to any of the above? Or is it just me?

Something new

Lately, things have been...interesting. I'm trying something new - I'm trying to "live in the present." This doesn't mean I still won't plan far in the future when it comes to food - it just means that when it comes to life, I'm not going to freak about what's going to happen five years from now and just...be. I'm trying to embrace the chaos. Or at least not let it drown me. My brother asked me to "stop being a moron and behave like a normal human being." We all know how difficult being normal is for me. An attempt, however, needs to be made. One thing's for sure - a lot of ice cream, cake, and chocolate is the the only way this whole "enjoying the moment" thing is gonna happen. But I'm going to see if I can do what Jack Johnson would like me to:



I guess we'll soon find out!

So What

This week has been, as the French say, shit. Actually, it has been eine grosse katastrophe. It has been fraught with suspense, drama, and bouts of hunger, all culminating in an epic public meltdown that shocked pretty much all of Zurich. You know me - I have been known to only cry while watching Hallmark commercials or while watching the opening montage from the movie UP. And such rumored acts of crying have only occured in a dark movie theater or within the confines of my apartment. I'm almost vampire like that way. So an epic daylight public meltdown by me is not only unheard of, it is also deeply embarrassing, and doesn't make for a pretty sight. I sat in abject horror and almost had this out-of-body experience where I looked at myself askance and wondered, "Who is this insane, emotionally unhinged, out of control madwoman?" as I was undergoing said meltdown. Thank god for beverage therapy, good friends, and ice cream.

Apart from some really good friends, both new and old, Pink is the only other person who's helping me deal with the disaster that was this week and helped channel my despair into rage. This song has now become my mantra:



Hope you all had a better week than I did!

No matter how dumb I am...

and I
can
be
pretty
dumb,
I will never be dumb enough to pull this. Amen.

I love Paris - Part Deux

(...continued from below) The Hummus and fatayer helped me attain inner peace. We walked around aimlessly for miles, and found ourselves at Palais Royale, where a group of street musicians were playing wonderful symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart.

We strolled toward The Louvre, a majestic piece of modern architecture nestled in a histortic neighborhood. I'm more of an architecture person than an art one, and I had already been to Louvre on my last trip to Paris, so we just decided to be tourists and took some pictures of the museum and its surroundings:





We crossed the Seine and walked on Pont Du Carrousel, a wonderful bridge overlooking both left and right bank:



From here on out, I went a little bit insane. Allow me to explain: for the longest time, I've coveted this Burberry handbag. I love the concept of being creative with plaid and am impressed with the number of ways in which they can make it hip. Not to mention, Hermoine asked me to buy Burberry. And we all know that if Hermoine says it's good, then it must be true. So, while we were crossing the bridge, I had an epiphany. I deduced that with the low Dollar-Euro exchange rate, the bag wouldn't be all that expensive.

But we had a situation: I didn't know where the Burberry store was located. So I whipped out my ancient smartphone and looked up the address of the store on the left bank. We found an address on Google, and since google never lies, we trusted it enough to make our way to St. Germaine, where I was assured the store stood. Alas, Google had joined forces with Steve Jobs and conspired against me! For we were at St. Germaine, where we found Chanel, MaxMara, and other stores, but no Hermoine's Burberry. Desolate, I made my way back to the right bank. It was just as well, because I discovered something truly startling in my hunt: Hermoine was no longer the face of Burberry! If they abandon Hermoine, then I abandon them! What I eventually ended up buying in place of the Burberry bag is too traumatic and shocking to be put in writing. Let's just leave it at that.

At night, we had dinner at the Loving Hut, a wonderful Asian vegetarian restaurant, not far from the Bastille. The food was delish, and neither the brother nor I uttered a single word and were focused on the eating the entire time.

We walked to Bastille after dinner, and the monument, in the shadow of the moon, made for a pretty sight:



This is where I explain to you what stood between me and creme brulee: it was my pants. I committed a grave fashion faux pas, you see - I only packed two day dresses. So I was forced to wear pants in the evening and was thus physically unable to indulge in any creme brulee, due to lack of flexibility to stuff anything else in my stomach. Nevertheless, we marched on and continued strolling along Bercy, soaking in wonderful moonlit castles:



and caught sight of the Eiffel Tower towering as a beacon of light and making the city dance in its lights:




You could close your eyes and almost hear the sounds of carriages riding along the river and of street stalls wrapping up for the day, as they would have hundreds of years ago. The night was perfect. Sure, there was a situation where I thought one of the towers of a castle was Eiffel Tower, which earned me a shocked look from my brother, but that's a rookie mistake, right?

The next day, we went back to Sacre Coeur, a beautiful church atop a hill:



And made our way back to Place de la Concorde. We chilled at Jardin des Tuileries where we grabbed a quick lunch, took a nap, and then do the one thing that I had still not done in Paris - have creme brulee. We walked along Rue Rivoli, and I'm proud to let you know that success was met:



This concludes an exhaustive recap of Paris. This post is no shorter than the previous one, in fact, it's even longer, if possible. So if you're reading this and are still awake, I'll just say that if you ever get a chance, do visit Paris, at least once in your lifetime. And let me know if you also feel its magic the way I do. It will make you feel fulfilled and yet will leave you wanting for more. It will transport you to a different world, all the while allowing you to enjoy the convenience of this one. Paris, je t'aime!

I love Paris

To quote the great Cole Porter:

Every time I look down on this timeless town
whether blue or gray be her skies.
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears,
more and more do I realize:

I love Paris in the springtime.
I love Paris in the fall.
I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles,
I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles.

I love Paris every moment,
every moment of the year

There's just something about this city that resonates with me. It's hard to explain what, or justify the why. I look forward to walking around and assaulting the locals with my pathetic French, and am still in awe every time I walk on Voie Georges Pompidou or am walking past The Louvre. The buildings and churches and castles never change, but each time I walk past them, I discover something new. Whether it's a missed sculpture, or a particularly unique coffee shop, Paris awakens the dormant explorer in me, and makes me feel like a little kid in a candy store. I can walk around for miles and miles without a care in the world, and even though my feet cry for respite, my mind and heart yearn for more. It's always had a special place in my heart, and if this trip was any indication, it will continue to do so for some time to come.

On my way to Paris, I had decided to blog about this the "right way." I was going to make a note of names and places of all the restaurants where I had a meal, and list all the cafes and do some actual critiquing. The plan was foolproof, I had my ever handy IPod Touch and was making a note of everything both days. But my lifelong aversion to Steve Jobs and everything Apple reared it's ugly head yet again. On my way back form Paris, I realized that my entire notepad had been wiped out, as had all my music. I had a mini breakdown in the train. It was not pretty. There was no knight in shining armor to rescue me either. So details of the Paris trip will not be like I imagined it to be and I'm going to have to wing it. Please send a letter of complaint to Steve Jobs for me, will ya?

I took train out from Zurich to Paris on Friday evening. It was a five hour train ride, with stunning views of rolling green hills and pretty farms along the way. The train pulled into Gare Du Nord at around 9:30 in the evening, and my hunger levels had reached insurmountable heights. The brother met up with me at the station and we walked to the hotel, which was about a five minute walk from the station. My brother tried to make conversation with me, but all I could think and talk about was food. Since the brother has seen the monster that I turn into when denied food, we quickly dropped my bag off at the hotel and made our way to the nearest falafel joint. It was only after devouring an entire falafel and some halloumi and some fatayer did I feel human again. I was exhausted from a busy week at work, so we decided to call it an early night and made our way back to the hotel.

Next morning we woke up reasonably early, and made our way to a pretty decent Crepe place. I've always believed in the saying, "Why have one crepe when you can have two?" and I proceeded to do just that:



Some people double fist on alcohol; I double fist on crepes. That's how I roll. After crepes, we walked around on Rue Lafayette, home to many a stores and smaller cafes. We stopped at a cafe for some coffee and made our way to Place de la Concorde. This is one of the biggest squares in Paris, with sweeping views of The Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Louvre. The weather was perfect, with not a cloud in the sky, and we took at least a dozen pictures around the fountains and of the entire square:



From there, we walked on Champs-Elysees and made our way to Arc de Triomphe - a monument about the Napoleon wars.



The top of the arch lists names of all the soldiers who fought for Napoleon, while the inside lists the names of all the cities and towns Napoleon conquered.



I know all this because of the hired tour guide a.k.a my brother. He was willing to share his fountain of knowledge in exchange for good cafes and crepes. Everyone in my family will work for food. We're cheap that way.

Interesting fact: Did you know that Napoleon was only 5'2? Who says short people can't conquer the world? This gives me hope of one day turning my dreams of world dominion into reality.

The inner child in me that needs to be fed every two hours started to scream for food again, and we began our hunt to find a good place for lunch. Came across a wonderful Mediterranean place, whose name I'd give you, were it not for Steve Jobs. Instead, all I can offer you is a picture of what we ate:



This post is turning into an encyclopedia, so I'm going to continue the rest in a Part II of this post.

Progress!

I'm finally done sorting the 503242 pictures that I took in Paris. On a Saturday night, instead of going out like the rest of the world, I'm holed up in the apartment doing this. If this doesn't prove my love for you, I don't know what will. And don't listen to those pesky rumors flying around about exhaustion and food coma being the real reason why I'm home today. It's all lies, I tell you, LIES! I'll be back tomorrow to write about it. Meanwhile, here's a taste of what's to come:



I absolutely love this picture, because it reminds me of the timeless nature of Paris. When you walk around, you can visualize how life must have been 50, 100, 500 years ago. But more on that tomorrow. For now, I'm going to be like a grandmother and go to bed at 10. On a Saturday night. Somebody please slap me.

Facebook "Like" of the week

"Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out...but I can usually shut the bitch up with cookies."

This week is killing me, but I'm hoping to be slightly less dead on Sunday and finally blog about Paris. Right now, my knee pain is back, my tooth hurts, and I'm googling "how to make your ear pop" because my left ear has been blocked since Monday. Now you understand why I had to finish a pint of ice cream this week? Hope you're all having a better week than I am!

Paris details

are on their way, but you'll have to wait until the weekend to hear about the crepe consumption, the thing that stood between me and creme brulee, and about taking a nap in Jardin des Tuileries. Meanwhile, here's a high level summary of the entire weekend:

Off to Paris for the weekend...

...but before I go, here's a rundown of all the things I did in London last weekend:

Reunited with my sweetheart:



Yes, this is nothing but a good oldfashioned mall. With escalators and more than five stores and food stalls and everything. Oh, how I have missed thee! I'm not much of a shopper, but whenever things were down, I'd always find solace int eh mall. Often, I wouldn't even buy anything, but just watching teens line up outside Hollister and continuing my quest to find Petite clothes that fit me always made me feel that everything will be alright in the world. Alas, Switzerland may have Alps and cows and beauty, but it doesn't have malls! So it was time for much needed retail therapy. I went to the Westfield mall in West London and basically walked around for three hours. I exited the mall and made my way to:

Leicester Square:



It's a really nice square, very close to Covent Garden, and a Mecca for food, movie, and theater buffs like me. I had drinks with a friend and we went for dinner to the most amazingly fantabulous Indian Restaurant called Masala Zone. In the past, I have often had heated discussions on the lack of authenticity in the Indian food in London, but after having dinner here, I take it all back. The food was authentic Indian food, more from the western part of India. All of us had a Thali, which looked like this:



I loved this restaurant chain so much that I went to each one of their locations over the weekend. Everyday, I had dinner at a different location. I did takeout from their Soho location Saturday night, and after placing my order, the guy at the counter asked me if this order was for two people or three, so he could provide that many plates and utensils. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was all for just one person, so I said it was for two people. Yes, I realize normal people don't do these things. But if there's anything you know about me by now, then it is the fact that I'm not quite normal.

Flower Market and more food:

On Sunday, my friend T, with whom I was staying, met up with another friend D, and all of us went to the Columbia Flower Market, which is very close to where T lives. I love flowers, so I just walked around taking in the smells and the scents, and of course, some pictures:





We then briefly stopped by at a kids' birthday party, but since I'm secretly afraid of kids, I just went there for some cake, and D and I left as soon as I had consumed a piece. We walked around Oxford Street, Regent Street, and Piccadilly Circus. It just felt so good to be in a big city, surrounded by rude people, where you weren't the only person in the entire country who was jay walking.

D and I had dinner at Masala Zone one last time, and we met up with T and walked from Covent Garden to London Bridge, just talking about food and life and the veritable lack of hot men on this planet. It was a great trip; I caught up with many of my friends whom I hadn't seen in a while, shopped, ate, ate, ate. And now I'm off to Paris to eat some more! Crepes, here I come :)

It's a Hard Life

This week was supposed to be all about London and what I did there and what I ate. I figured the Land Of the Queen deserved more than one post. But things happened, as things tend to, that lead me to alter my agenda a little bit. For today is the day that I introduced a whole new set of people to the horrors of my gluttony. My friend Julie had organized a dinner for, get this, 22, that's right, TWENTY-TWO women, at my favorite(and perhaps, the only) Ethiopian restaurant in Zurich. As I am an idiot wrapped in a moron, I got lost on my way to the restaurant, even though I have been there numerous times now. Julie and Carla were standing out on the street trying to spot me. This is why I wore a bright red jacket today; I knew something like this would happen that would require me to be spotted from space. We finally united and I made my merry way into the restaurant.

The fellow vegetarians in attendance united and formed our own front. We were a varied bunch, from U.S., Canada, Germany, and Sweden. It was a great group of people and good conversation was had, with much of it centering around food, to my delight. You all remember what happened the last time I went to this restaurant. Well, this time, I decided to take it up a notch. So we got two servings, yes, two servings, of this:



When I finally stopped eating, as usual, I couldn't breath due to the food coma. I almost wanted to lie down on the couch and find the will to move again. Julie did an absolutely wonderful job organizing everything and the company was exceptional. I also caught up a bit with Jenny, whom I met on my disastrous bike trip back when I first moved here. After she was done playing hostess, I had her look at my knee, which was bothering me. She moonlights as a knee expert, so I'd highly recommend that you solicit her services when required. She did some complicated looking things with my knee and concluded that I may have some tendon inflammation in my right knee.

I don't really know what could be the cause of this knee inflammation - the only thing I can conclude is that maybe leaping across the table to get the last bite chocolate before someone else ate it may not have helped the situation. I've been asked to lie down, wrap an icepack around my knee, and perch it at an angle such that it's above my heart. So here I am, in a comically awkward position, with my laptop in my lap (but not really), looking like I'm doing more acrobats than those at a circus. Thank you, I'll be here all week.

Gatwick Airport - Stuff that nightmares are made of

Whenever a little kid refuses to eat his veggies, his mom probably tells him, "Have your veggies, or you will be forced to fly into Gatwick airport the next time you go to London". I had heard stories about this, but after flying into Gatwick this time around, I am convinced of their authenticity. By the time I landed in Gatwick on Thursday night, hunger had started to hum. As a result, I was already a bit disoriented. And we all know what kinds of things happen when I'm hungry. On top of all this, many of the exits from the Gatwick terminal to the Shuttle were closed, and the Detour signs were unclear, to say the least. I ended up going through Baggage claim and customs at least twice. And I didn't even check-in any bags! I had that vacant look that people get in their eyes when they go to watch The Predator and find out that Adrian Brody only took his shirt off once. You begin to question your very existence. Fortunately, before the questioning got too intense, I found my way to the shuttle and then to the train station to take the Express train to my friend's place in East London.

Aforementioned hunger made me buy a Same Day return Ticket from Gatwick to London bridge. Yes, Same day. Apparently my hungry mind decided that riding the Gatwick express back and forth would be an ideal way to resolve my hunger issues. At the train station, I saw something marvelous: I saw Subway. Yes, the fast-food chain. It has been exactly 4.5 months since I last saw one of these. I just stood outside in adoration of the store for a good five minutes. Who knew I'd get so sentimental over limp lettuce and canned olives? I wanted to grab a sandwich before I boarded the train, but the display kept blinking at me and informed me that the arrival of the train was imminent. I rushed to the platform, only to find another blinking display - this one announcing that the train was delayed by 20 minutes. I wanted to rail against the gods and ask, "Why, god, why?" Alternatively, I could also have run back to the Subway stand and bought my sub, but the thought of lugging my carry-on up and down non-escalated stairs didn't sound too appealing at the time.

By the time I made it to London Bridge, I was blinded by hunger. Literally blinded for two seconds, but then I realized it's because I had closed my eyes. I grabbed a cab and made my way to my friend's place. I made the cab driver drop me a block away from their home because I spotted an Indian restaurant and wanted to grab some take-out before I went over to their place. Most people bring gifts to the people they are visiting. But I don't follow any such norms. Me, I took take-out. For myself. Before I went to their place. My friend T was out of town that night but her husband S let me in. Instead of making conversation and catching up with him, the first words out of my mouth were, "Hi S! So good to see you!! I'm very hungry and desperately need to eat right away!" I then proceeded to make him watch me wolf down some Naan and curry. In between the chomping I'd come up for some air and mumble something at him in an attempt to make conversation, but such was my hunger that my eyes didn't even leave my dinner plate until everything was swept clean. Never let it be said that I don't give my hundred percent to anything that I do.

S, who was probably in shock and awe, had plans to leave early the next morning and went to get some sleep. Poor bloke probably had nightmares about a crazy houseguest who ate all their food. Satiated, I switched the TV on, and found English channels! For these three days, I wouldn't have to watch Castle in German, or Monk in Italian, or CSI in French - all the shows and channels were in English. I cried a few tears of joy and watched some NCIS before I went off to bed. Tomorrow, I introduce you to my lovah...

Aaaand I'm back!

I'm back from London; had an amazing time there! It's a LOT different from what it used to be about four years ago, when I lived there for a few months. Overall, it just felt so damn good to be in a big, English-as-the-main-language city, full of hustle and bustle, and feel the beat of a big city once again. I've got loads to share, but I need to unpack, do laundry, eat, watch True Blood, watch Mad Men, have a long debate about whether or not I want to have dessert, probably end up having some dessert, and do the dishes, before I can really talk about the trip. In the mean time, one of these things didn't happen on the trip - I'll let you try and figure out which one it was:

1) I did takeout before I even reached my friend's apartment in London
2) I got a papercut on my arm
3) When doing takeout, I was asked, "Is this for two people or three?"
4) I had to wake up at 3:30am to catch the first flight back to Zurich and go to work
5) I hugged clothes in the Petite section in stores
6) I finally turned down an offer of food

Will either be back later today or most likely tomorrow with the first snippets. Until then, keep guessin'!

UPDATE: I JUST WATCHED LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE OF TRUE BLOOD AND I AM @#$%$^%$. THIS SHOW HAS TAKEN AWAY MY ABILITY TO TYPE IN LOWER CAPS. HOLY COW. WHAT AN EPISODE. SUFFICE TO SAY, DETAILS ABOUT LONDON WILL HAVE TO WAIT. WOW.

Busy, busy, busy...

I'm having a busy few weeks, so posting will be minimal at best. The schedule has been somewhat like this: had a brunch for 10 people at my place over the weekend, meeting various people for dinners this week, and then off to London on Thursday for the weekend. I promise to come back with details about the trip and about the insanities that ensued while there. Until then, I'd like to leave you with this exchange that I had with a friend at work:

Me: I'm thinking of cutting down on the dessert.

Friend: NO you can't do that! You will make life extremely difficult for all of us. At the moment, if we eat dessert, we always think "oh, it's ok, Jigz has probably eaten more dessert than me today" and then carry on munching. What are we supposed to do if you cut down on your dessert consumption?

So there you have it. I must continue eating dessert for the betterment of mankind. Remember, you heard it here first.

To smell or not to smell

Summer is a beautiful season. It brings out flowers and the green and fun skirts and dresses, and...some men who don't use deodorant and wear wife-beaters. This is not only an assault to the eyes but also to the olfactory. This assault is exacerbated when you're on a tram, and you begin to dread the moment someone lifts their arms up to hold on to the railing. You pray to every god, wishing and hoping that they wore deodorant. Sometimes god obliges, sometimes he doesn't. When he doesn't, you feel like you are doomed to a lifetime of disappointment.

I went through such an experience just last week. I was on the tram, on my way back from work. Halfway through the ride, there was a strange stench that filled the tram. My nostrils lodged a protest and immediately shut down. My quest to find the source of the stench brought me to to a wannabe-rockstar-but-couldn't-ever-be-one guy wearing a wife-beater and sporting a wonderful beer belly, lifting his arms up to hold on to the railing. I doubt he knew the devastating impact such an act would have on society as a whole. You could almost see the fumes emanating from under his arms. This is disgusting, I know, but if I get to live through it, you get to read about it.

The entire tram must have felt the waves of stench, and it ended up being each man for himself, because I kid you not, we ended up losing people at every tram stop. Within three stops, almost everyone was off the tram, with the look of fear on their faces, and tears in their eyes. I stuck around for one more stop, but then abandoned ship and leaped out of the tram before the doors closed. There was no time to warn unsuspecting on-boarders of what awaited them inside the tram. I just hope they made it out okay. Maybe one day we'll run into each other and reminisce about this shared torture that we went through. But for now, I'm armed with Febfreeze and am ready to launch my counterattack on any tram at a moment's notice. "They may take our lives, but they will NEVER TAKE OUR FREEDOM!!!"

I'll Stand By You

When I started this blog, I decided that it would be a non-political one. Those of you who have known me for a while know that I have very *ahem* strong opinions on all things political. So if I started talking politics here, this could quickly derail into just another political blog, and the idea of talking about Zurich and my experiences here would be nothing but a distant memory.

But something pretty monumental happened today that I think deserves a mention. Prop 8, an intensely discriminatory ballot initiative that was voted into law in California has been ruled unconstitutional. As someone who has long propagated equal rights for all human beings, regardless of their race, religion, gender, and orientation, you can imagine how happy this makes me feel. In fact, I was so happy this morning that I decided to be a good girl only had one lunch. And one dinner. I just hope that people finally do the right thing and realize that discrimination under the veil of moral outrage and societal concerns is still discrimination.

In honor of this decision, I'm going to share a story with you that I absolutely, positively, never wanted anyone to be aware of. But such is my joy that I am going to reverse my decision and post it, for your amusement, as always:

During my first couple of weeks in Zurich, I went to Blue Monkey, a really good Thai restaurant for dinner with some colleagues who are visiting from New York. The restaurant itself was one of the better places I had been to here in Zurich. Food was good, conversation was interesting. As usual, I zoned out when I was getting intimately acquainted with my green curry and fried rice, so details of the conversation, of course, cannot be recalled. I do remember that at the end of the meal, we were satiated, and decided to forgo dessert (a heartbreaking decision for me, but I was outvoted). The waitress started to clear the table, and in the process, took a burning candle off the table and promptly poured a generous amount of melted wax on my wonderful and recently washed black pants. I watched the whole thing happen in slow motion, certain that the wax wouldn't find itself attached to my pants. But oh how wrong was I!

Now I don't know about you, but having a huge blob of melted wax covering a majority of your pants doesn't exactly scream "fashion". At first, everyone at the table was in shock. Then everyone started laughing. Actually, they didn't laugh out loud, but I'm sure in their head they were cracking up. The waitress profusely apologized and confessed that that day was her first day at work. I felt bad and decided not to demand free dessert, which I totally deserved. I covered the white on black with a tablecloth while we were seated, and wore my overcoat as soon as we got up to leave. I was clutching the overcoat so tightly around me, you'd think I had a million dollars hiding underneath it. Instead, I was hiding melted wax on black pants.

Tell me honestly - do you know anyone else who had hot wax poured on their black pants at a restaurant? Why do such things only happen to me - and that too on a global level? What have I done to deserve such things? Let us together find an answer, for I cannot solve this mystery alone.

"I never thought I was smart enough to get depressed, but here I am."

Is anyone else watching True Blood this season? If you are, then the title of this post will make complete sense to you. If you're not, then I just want to let you know that I am not depressed. Sad about living in a currently ice-creamless apartment, but definitely not depressed.True Blood keeps blowing me away on a regular basis. I laugh, cringe, swoon, salivate, and get grossed out all at the same time. Can't wait for next week's episode!

This weekend was amazing, food-wise (going forward, just remember, if something is amazing, it's most likely due to a food related activity). Fellow True Bloodies (Blooders?) Julie and Carla hosted a housewarming party at their place this weekend. Since I've sampled their cooking before, I most certainly didn't want to be in a situation where I'd show up and all the food was gone, so I came up with a strategy: I decided to show up at their place well in advance, under the pretext of "helping them out." And boy am I glad I did that. There were three different kinds of empanadas, amazing chili cheese enchiladas, corn salsa, pico de gallo, roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, chocolate chip cookies, an assortment of meat dishes, and sangria. This is what the spread looked like, and the reason why I had to employ my strategy of showing up early:



Here's the roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, veggies, and pico de gallo:



The rest of the evening was also a lot of fun. I'd love to give you details about the guests and share some interesting anecdotes, but I was basically in a food coma approximately sixty minutes after I got to their place. In fact, the coma got so bad at one point that I physically couldn't stand and had to lie down on their couch. Yes, I have to lie down on couches now because I can't control my eating.

I reluctantly made my way back way too early, which, in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do, for the eating would not have stopped any other way. As it was, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking how full I was. But it was worth it. My only regret: I forgot to take leftovers back with me. I cried the entire train ride back. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I really did. Little children ran away in fear. Oh well, it was worth it. Now if only I can get myself to stop dreaming about the cookies...

A Cage of my own

Honestly, I don't know how I've lived all these years without having such a wonderfully perfect cage as a part of my wardrobe:



For centuries, scientists have tried to find a way to contain me while out and about in public, without much success. It took Valentino and his Fall Haute Couture 2010 collection to come up with a solution! This dress will save others from accidents caused by my arm flailing, will alert everyone else to my presence, thus allowing them to stay as far away as possible from me, and most importantly, will allow me to truly appreciate the song, "I want to Break Free". I just hope the cage opens during meal times. I can suddenly see PETA's "No Cages" campaign in a whole new light...

I've Got to See You Again

Today was traumatizing, food-wise. Actually, that's not really true. I had pasta for lunch, so there was some measure of emotional satisfaction until mid-afternoon. As today is Wednesday, I went to the Wednesday Market after a long, long time. There is a British Cheese stall there, which is a local hang out of sorts for expats. I made plans with a couple of friends to meet up, have some cheese, laugh, and have some more cheese.

On my way there, I began to remember all the different food stalls that are put up at the market, and I was hit with a sudden and unsuppressed craving for Falafel. I was almost delusional in my need for it, and the first thing I did after I quickly said hi to my friend was to line up for the Falafel. Imagine my shock and horror when I discovered that the Lebanese stall had no falafel this week! "No Falafel", I shrieked. "How is this even possible? What kind of a country is this? How does the government even allow such things to happen? Surely this must be illegal!" I thought. Yes, I think in exclamations. It has been known to happen when food is involved. Desperate, I asked the other expats if they were aware of any other stall at the Market that sold Falafel. Alas, the answer came back negative. I was this close to tears. I was suddenly questioning everything. If I can't get my Falafel, then what's the point in living, I ask you? My friend Julie could see tears well up in my eyes and immediately tried to distract me with some Greek food. Before I even knew what hit me, I found myself working my way through a Spinach pie.

The momentary distraction did a good enough job of stopping the tears, but as soon as the pie was consumed, my sense of loss at the lack of Falafel returned. Desolate, I decided to make my way back home. On the way out, I managed to buy some cheese from the British cheese stall and also picked up a Samosa from an Indian stall. But nothing filled the gap that Falafel had left - both in my heart and in my belly. Ever since I made it back to the apartment and demolished the samosa, I've been listening to Norah Jones' I've Got To See You Again - a song that truly captures my current state of mind:

Kinder Ninja

You weren't expecting me to post the next update so quickly, were you? I like surprising people - keeps things interesting. Let's see what happened on Sunday. The morning began as all mornings do, with food. Breakfast was included in our room and board, and we all know how I feel about free food. Right before I ate pretty much everything that I could humanly eat, I walked around and took some pictures from the hotel of Lake Thun and the mountains:





And one more:



After breakfast, we made our way back to the sports company with whom we now had a rafting trip planned. The gear we had to get dressed in this time around was rafting gear, which they thankfully had in my size! I was ecstatic. Ecstasy lowered itself into mere happiness upon discovery of the fact that they still didn't have any shoes in my size. We drove to the river (I think the river was called Lucino but I could also totally be making that up) and got a lesson in rowing and instruction-following. Soon, we were in the river and pretty much thrown into the rapids as soon as we got in:



The fact that I'm terribly uncoordinated is not news to anyone. And this is without you even being aware of how one day I fell on my strawberries while walking and crushed them all. But I digress. Due to my lack of coordination, I would keep sliding into the raft, as opposed to being seated on the edge and paddling. Thankfully, I was in the very back, so no one noticed. However, when such things happened:



my screams got loud enough to wake up the dead. Soon, we got our first break to catch our breath. I was extremely proud of the fact that I still hadn't fallen into the river. But it was still early days. When we made it back into the river for round two, the rapids we encountered were even stronger. At one such time, the wave that we got hit with was too strong, and it ended up taking my paddle away. Yes, I lost my paddle. To the river. I don’t think such things happen to normal people, but they do to me. It turned out to be blessing in disguise, as the rest of the guys had to carry my weight, which we all know is quite a bit to carry.

In one of the general hilarity that ensued from me losing my paddle, my friends started calling me Kinder, which means child in German. This had to do with the fact that my birthday comes once every four yrs and nothing at all to do with the fact that I am short. Nothing at all, I’m positive. The raft guide who sat next to me and saved my life many-a-times was chatting with us, and when he kept hearing my friends call me kinder, thought that was my name. We explained to him the origins of the word Kinder. He then looked at me and out of the blue said that I looked like a Ninja. Which, in hindsight, I totally did. It was decided that I be called Kinder Ninja. I must admit, I actually quite like the sound of it. It has the makings of a solid action flick. "When the world is in peril, only one person can save it - Kinder Ninja" Like sound of it. I'm calling Spielberg as we speak.

Anyway, once the rafting adventure ended, we drove back to Zurich. The trip was amazing, the company fabulous. I leave you with one final image of the views that we passed on the drive back: