Say cheese!

I have spent the last four hours looking at endless instruction videos on how to do the perfect french braid, and have been practicing the same all evening. What, you ask, possessed me to do such a thing? It's the same question psychiatrists are also asking, and I'll tell them the same thing I'm telling you: It was either that, or do some cleaning around in the apartment. Tell me, what would you have done?

Today was a great day, foodwise. I was invited to an English cheese and beer event in Rapperswil, which is a small city about 35km from Zurich. The idea was to have a nice cheese platter for lunch and interact with other expats living in Zurich. My friend Julie was volunteering as a waitress at the event, and I informed her to expect me to show up in high heels, a barely there outfit, wearing giant sunglasses, and a bitchy attitude. I told her this would be the only time I could be really rude to the wait staff and throw a tantrum and be really mean, and I was going to milk it to the fullest. My friend Carla and I rode the bike there - all 35km of it. I don't remember much of the bike ride as 34 of those 35km were spent on trying to breathe and stay alive. In the moments that I did manage to breathe, I was astounded by the sheer beauty of the region. To our left were vineyards, and to our right was the lake, and in the background were meadows and hills, with houses sprinkled in between. In that moment I felt a sense of peace that one seldom feels. But then breathing issues ensued, so the moment of peace was replaced with moments of trying to survive.

We finally made it to Rapperswil and spent the next few minutes making the agonizing decision on what kinds of cheese we wanted for our platter. We settled for a cheddar and various other forms of blue cheese, paired with coleslaw, relish, pickles, chutney, and bread. I don't drink beer, which is good, because it allowed me to dedicate my entire self to the cheese. And the cheese was divine. Especially the "Stinking Bishop". My stomach was full, but that information never reached my brain, so I ended up sharing a brownie with Carla after the cheesefest. Waitress Julie was not at all threatened by my mean girl act, not even when I told her, in my valley girl accent, to "go get her manager". I was very disappointed. But seeing as she was so busy and doing a great job taking orders and serving lunch, I decided to give her a break. But only this one time. The next time my meal takes more than 3.4 seconds to arrive, I'm going straight to the manager!

The reality of what lay ahead of us finally struck me: We had to make the 35km bike ride BACK. After the food fest. Trauma ensued. I think I may have internally cried, but externally I maintained a cool facade. Carla and I decided to be adventurous and try and take a different route back home. We weren't too successful, and the route back was hilly. And you know me, I don't believe in hills. The moment I would come across a tiniest incline, I'd get off my bike and walk it until we were off the incline. Meanwhile, superwoman Carla just marched along, as if this was an everyday occurrence for her. I'm surprised she didn't physically lift me and my bike and throw us both in the vineyards for slowing her down. The view, yet again, was stunning, even more so because of the said hills that we were on. I'd love to share some pictures, but I forgot to take my camera along, so you'll just have to use your imagination for this one.

The bike ride back was a lot harder due to exhaustion from the ride into Rapperswil, and from eating enough food over lunch to feed an entire nation. God must have heard my silent pleas for help, for over halfway into the ride back to Zurich, it started to pour. I think God was also crying at my pathetic attempt to ride a bike. When it didn't look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon, we rode in it to find a train station and took the train the rest of the way back. I barely made it back to the apartment before I collapsed on the couch. The apartment was, and is, in a state of disarray, and I would have cleaned up, had Waitress Julie's french braid not gotten me obsessed with looking up french braids, and we all know how that ended...

Now I'm off to meet a few people for drinks to discuss if I'll ever be able to make it out of bed tomorrow - because of the late night last night, and the bike ride this afternoon, and the late night tonight! I think food is the only thing that has the power to get me out of bed tomorrow. Good food. Lots of good food. Bye.