Extreme sightseeing

This weekend, I went to Interlaken with a few friends. The plan was to go canyoning on Saturday, stay in town overnight, and drive back after brunch on Sunday. But we all know that when I'm involved, things seldom happen according to plan. We made it in good time to Interlaken, even though most of us were worse for wear from a brutal night out on Friday night. The two hour drive there was filled with hilarity and general silliness. The first thing we did upon reaching Jungfrau, the region within Interlaken where we would be staying, was decide to have lunch. You can imagine how happy this made me feel. I decided to go ahead and have a plateful of rostii with the justification that I was going to be burning a lot of calories canyoning. Little did I know das katastrophes that awaited us...

After lunch, we made our way to the company with whom we organized the canyoning. As usual, there were no adult wetsuits available in my size, so I had to end up wearing a kid size suit, and tragically, even that was a bit too big on me. I was glad that I had that rostii earlier to keep me emotionally happy, otherwise this wetsuit situation would have had me bursting into tears. We got all geared up in our wet suit, jacket, lifevest, helmet, ropes, and everything else that we could humanly carry on us, and got in the van that would drive us to the canyon.

Our driver was an...interesting French guy who had never driven an automatic and thus was causing almost-accidentlike situations every 2.4 seconds. After the first couple of times, we almost got used to it. I hardly ever even prayed for my life after the fifth time that we almost crashed into another car. The general hilarity from the morning continued well into the afternoon. The weather was rainy and cold, but the scenic beauty of the valley and the fun company made it enjoyable. Alas, joy would soon turn into sorrow, and sorrow into despair. As we got closer to entering the canyon, we found out that one of the rocks from the mountain had fallen over a tunnel and we thus had to turn back. Clemount, in this thick French accent, gravely told us, "Je suis desole but I have no Plan B!" We secretly wanted to burst out laughing (remember, we were in our silliness phase of the trip, which is when everything was funny!), but suggested that he ask around and see if we could come back Sunday morning and go then. He thought this was an absolutely brilliant idea and drove to the nearest town to inquire more about the situation.

While we were waiting for Clemount to do this thing, I went all Annie Lebovitz on everyone and whipped out my camera:



Here are some really cool views of the Jungfrau range:



Meanwhile, Clemount came back with the depressing news that we couldn't go canyoning as it was too dangerous and we had to turn back.At this point, we were still in our wetsuit. Standing outside of a van. We were dressed up in extreme sportsgear and were taking pictures of mountains. As my friend C put it, we basically ended up doing "extreme sightseeing". Came across some really nice views on the way back though:





We decided to drown our sorrows in Fondue, which regrettably led to "whoever drops the bread takes a shot" games, and as always, I lost. By midnight, I was falling asleep standing up. The fact that only horses can sleep standing up is a myth, which I successfully managed to dispel on Saturday night.

While we were discussing with Clemount what to do in place of Canyoning on Sunday, one of our friends C then proposed the idea that we could go rafting early Sunday morning, since we were staying in town overnight anyway. Clemount again thought that this was the most brilliant idea ever. We started to wonder if he lived on a Funny farm and had infact only been let out for a couple of hours that day. Our analysis of him continued well into Sunday afternoon. So rafting we did go on Sunday, but to learn more about that little adventure, and the meaning of the term "Kinder ninja", you'll have to check back tomorrow (or a week from now, but I promise, rafting details and the pictures will be uploaded soon!)

This is a first...

This weekend I'm embarking on my first "non-food" related activity since I moved here - I'm going canyoning! Who, what, when, where, how? Watch this space for details. All I can tell you is that I have been told that, "I don't need to know how to swim, but I do need to be RELAXED in the water." So I'll report back and let you know if I did, you know, Relax! Which I will, as long as I don't meet any of these...

Can't breathe

I had a couple of fellow food lovers over for an Indian dinner tonight, and now I'm having trouble breathing, because of all the eating. Nothing, not even my super loose sweatpants, prepared me for my latest food coma. My cooking wasn't a total disaster (except for the Strawberry Sorbet that ended up becoming a strawberry slushie), and we had Eric and Neal to give us company for remainder of the evening. I wanted to blog about quite a few amusing things that have happened recently, but I am not kidding when I say that I cannot physically get myself off the couch because of the naan, dal, rice, Alu Gobi, avacado and cucumber raita, strawberry slushie thing, and backup dessert of chocolate cake that I inhaled. One day, I will regain my ability to move. But until such a day arrives, I'm going to try and find what I can about my latest future husband...

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.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Last weekend was Zurifascht, a two and a half day long festival celebrating Zurich that occurs once every three years. Was ist das, you ask? I tried to find the historical significance of the festival, but everything I found online was in German, so I’m just going to be a therapist and tell you, “The festival is whatever you want it to be.” Basically, it’s an opportunity for people to eat and drink for 72 hours. The entire city area around the lake and and around Limmat, one of the rivers in city center, is shut down, and there are hundreds of food and drink stalls and dance clubs on the street. Among other things, the festival also boasts of a gravity defying air show with amazing air stunts done by the navy and choppers. Spectacular fireworks indicate the beginning of the party at night, which doesn’t end until the sun comes up. People spend the weekend walking around and checking out different stalls for food and usually hit at least one “road” bar on their trek. It is estimated that around 2million people are out on the street during the festival. Here are some images to give a better idea of what the festival is all about:



Here's everyone and their uncles out on the street basically all night long:





This was my first ZuriFest and I was determined to make the most of it. My OCD required that I research everything and plan the most fastidious and effective route, but everyone advised me not to “plan” anything and go with the flow. So 12 of us decided to meet on Friday evening and then, you know, flow. The evening started with great promise – we saw a flying dog:



And Ghana looked like they were poised to win the game. However, things started to get crazy once 2 million people made their way to a 1 mile radius area. We started to lose people. At first, it was a person here, a person there. Before we knew it, we were down to a group of 5. Unrelenting, we marched on. Our quest to find the perfect spot to watch the fireworks brought us to the lake shore. The view was indeed great, and the fireworks, synchronized to classical music, were quite spectacular. I would love to show you pictures but I was too lazy to take any good ones, so you'll just have to believe me when I say that the fireworks were fab.

But millions of people in such a small area led to cellphones being jammed and people unable to contact other people. Pretty soon, we lost the remaining people and were down to myself and just another friend. I felt I was on the battlefield and had lost all my soldiers in the fight to survive. Eventually, my one other friend and I were reunited with a few others that we lost earlier in the evening, but by that time, the trauma of losing the remaining soldiers, I mean friends, coupled with my cell phone having no battery, was just too much for me, so I decided to call it a night.

Day two of the festival was all about THE Falafal. In my hunt for my fellow compatriots, the sight of various people eating falafel had not escaped unnoticed. Saturday morning I decided to walk around in the afternoon and try to find my falafel. I had no idea where the falafel eaters had found it the night before, so I painstakingly walked through every single lane and by-lane until success was finally mine. Three hours and a few blisters later, I was united with falafel. Never let it be said that I wouldn’t go to great lengths for things that I believe in.

By Saturday night, I was older and wiser, and having learned from my past mistakes, decided to attend the festival with a much smaller group. And in the process, learned another invaluable life lesson: In a crowd of 2 million, a group larger than 2 people is…large. Needless to say, by the end of the inght, I had again managed to lose everyone, including my visitors from NY. I tried looking for them, but who knew it would be very difficult to find two people in a mob of two million?

Eventually, I gave up and hoped that they reached my place safely. I repeated the post-separation process from the night before, and ran into a few people I knew, but was so exhausted as to be unable to even breathe without my feet crying in pain from all the standing, and had to go back to the apartment and crash.

I had plans for Sunday that included walking around and covering one area that I hadn't yet checked out, going swimming in the lake, and by swimming I mean splashing around on the shore, and of course eating. I couldn't even make it out of the couch and to the balcony. Somehow, I found the inner will to actually move and hunt for food at around dinner time, and left with my visitors to check out festival one last time. I finally realized why this event occurs only once every three years - I don't think I can handle such insanity on a yearly basis!

Keeping out of Mischief now

In case you can't tell, I'm going through a "Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald" phase right now. I quote their songs in casual conversation and am constantly humming them in the office. I need therapy.

Anyway, I've decided to sit down and get a few posts out of the way tonight. I was going to begin with ZuriFest, but I had an awesome dinner this evening, so we'll lead as always with food. I had been craving veggie burger for a while now. What is so special about this "veggie burger" you ask? Well the VBs here almost taste like "indian" burgers in that they are made out of potatoes and peas and have a distinct curry and chutney flavor to it. I've never had these burgers outside of India, so you can understand my obsession on having one everyday here. The burger, coupled with awesome homemade sauces and flavored mayo, makes life worth living.

I had one a few weeks ago, but cravings began in earnest at Zurifest, where I had it at least a couple of times, and reached a frenzy by this morning. Every morning I'd wake up thinking of it and go to bed at night with dreams of having one for dinner. This afternoon, a debate raged within me on whether to go on my veggie burger hunt or to be lazy, and laziness won, but only by the thinnest of margins.

I conned a friend into joining me on my burger hunt by luring him with promises of watching the Germany-Uruguay game. We went to Bar One at Escher-Wyss-Platz, where I was first introduced to the burger. I excitedly waited for it and when I had the first bite, I achieved a state of bliss like no other. The next thirty minutes, over which I devoured the burger, were the best minutes of the entire day.

No sooner had I finished dinner did it start to rain like a maniac, which was a welcome respite from the heat. I'm just glad that the downpour occurred after above mentioned burger annihilation, otherwise the evening would have ended on quite a catastrophic note. I've been in a food coma for the last three hours, and it shows no signs of abating. Now if only I can get my hands on some ice cream, my purpose in life shall have been achieved!

My current obsession

I can't stop listening to this song - it's on auto-repeat on my Ipod:



I think I may secretly be in love with Audrey Tautou. Or maybe in love with just her hair and her face and her skinniness...