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!

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'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:

Why can't I be normal?

This question keeps me up at night. I have pondered over it for years now, and can come up with few answers that can explain my lack of normalcy. The only reasonable explanation is that something happens to me when I'm in any situation that has anything to do with food, and that causes me to behave in ways that psychologists wouldn't really classify as "normal". But I have no answer to the root cause of this issue. Is it a forgotten childhood trauma? A genetic disorder? A chemical imbalance? I have no answer and I don't think even doctors would. Why do I bring this up today, you ask? Well, here's what happened this morning:

I had met one half of a seemingly wonderful couple on my flight to Spain a couple of weekends ago, and made plans to meet the two of them for brunch this afternoon. I woke up early enough to procrastinate about going to the gym, and ended up having two cookies to get over the guilt of said procrastination. I even got ready on time and ensured that my handbag matched my dress and shoes. But as every woman knows, changing handbags is a tricky business. It's extremely difficult to remember to transfer your ipod, work ID, loose change, makeup, book, and various other items to the new handbag. Something always is forgotten in the old handbag, and your life ceases to hold any meaning until the missing item has been safely transferred over.

Well, such a "life ceasing to hold any meaning" event happened with me this afternoon. I was going to a vegetarian buffet place for brunch, so thoughts of muesli and pudding and lentils and curry had infiltrated my head to a point where I couldn't even think straight. Everywhere I looked around, I saw curry and rice. This is why when I swapped bags, I thought the newer bag felt lighter than the older one, but chalked that up to the weight of the bag itself, so as not to let anything get in the way of my curry cravings. Well, imagine my embarrassment when it came time to pay and I realized that I had forgotten my...wallet! Yes, the light weight of my new handbag was due a missing wallet that was comfortably resting in my old handbag.

To say that I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole would be an understatement. To say that I wanted to be on Lost and go back in time would be more accurate. I had to shamefully ask my wonderful brunchmates to bail me out. And you know me, when I eat, I EAT. And this was buffet, where you stuff your plate with whatever you want and then weigh it at the counter. I repeat, it was a BUFFET. So my plate was stuffed. And I had to ask someone who I knew for approximately 3.5 minutes to pay for it. All because food was on my mind all morning and I had lost the ability to use my brain for any seemingly normal activities. My mates were kind enough to bail me out, but then I saw dessert. And I longingly kept staring at it. They asked me if I was up for coffee and some dessert. Mindful of the fact that I was literally penniless, I started to refuse. But my insincerity must have shown on my face, because they insisted that I join them for coffee and dessert and paid for that too. Being the fat@ass that I am, I had both. This a new low, even for me. Something must be done. I cannot continue to be an idiot wrapped in a moron for the rest of my life. Dessert was fabulous though. As was the cappuccino. I need help. Help!

Blessings in disguise

It's been over two months since I moved to Zurich. In those two months, I had email issues, login issues, and moronity issues. Since then, my email issues have been resolved. My login issues have been resolved. My moronity issues are still ongoing without any resolution in sight.

But until very recently, I was faced with a new crisis. My chair at work, ladies and gentlemen, had digestive issues. It would make a farting sound every time I sat, I moved around in my seat, and every time I got up. It had gotten so bad that I could only move from my present position after people around me either left to attend meetings or went on coffee breaks. One day, a cute guy came by to talk to my coworker, and he smiled at me. I smiled back, and my chair farted. I saw the look of horror on his face, but before I could explain, he fled. My chair was now costing me my reputation, my peace of mind, and my future social life.

A few months ago, I had tendinitis and required several weeks of physiotherapy and an ergonomic setup at work. My desk at Zurich didn't have an ergonomic setup, and being a Superwoman, I just assumed that I had defeated the evils of inflamed tendons once and for all. Unfortunately my Superwoman powers are nonexistent in Zurich, so the tendinitis started coming back with a vengeance.

Fortunately for my alter-ego, this meant I now needed an ergonomic setup at work, which meant it was time to retire the farting chair. I am now proud to proclaim that my brand new ergonomic chair is very healthy and has no digestive issues. It has also cured me of my tendinitis for now, and helped me in curtailing any future damage to my reputation. On the other hand, I tried to say "nice to meet you" to someone in German, but ended up saying "I set myself on fire." So maybe the damage to my reputation is unstoppable at this point..

Ich bin idiot

Hunger does strange things to me. I think we've established this time and again. In case we haven't, I have yet another example to make you aware of such a theory. Today was my first German class. I arrived with literally seconds to spare before the class began, and was thus forced to sit in the first seat. I had forgotten that the class was one-and-a-half hours long and thus didn't haven my first dinner before the class. As a result, two minutes into the class, I started experiencing hunger pangs, and it became harder and harder to focus.

The first thing we learned was how to say "I am..."which is Ich bin...We also learned to ask, "Are you..." which is Bist du...?We were then asked to introduce ourselves to the class, and ask one of the other students if he/she was x, y, or z (based on the placards with students' names written on them)? So, all I had to say, in German, was, "I am Jigisha, are you Carl?" This should have translated to "Ich bin Jigisha, bis du Carl?" However, due to my hunger issues, I ended up saying, "Ich bin Carl, bis du Jigisha?" , all the while not even realizing what I was saying. The entire class, including the instructor, burst out laughing, and only then did I realize that I in fact introduced myself as Carl, and asked dear Carl if he was Jigisha. I'm sure this wouldn't have happened had I eaten my first dinner.

By the time the class ended, I was almost blinded by hunger, so much so that I couldn't even find a way out of the floor on which the classroom was located! I opened every single door I could find, and each one of them either led to the Women's Bathroom, Men's bathroom, a utility closet, or a coat closet! Driven by hunger induced insanity, I asked someone to point me to the way out. She pointed me to the door that said Exit and asked me to open that to go downstairs. Apparently, hunger can also make you lose the power of sight and English word comprehension. I'm just letting you know these things, so you are never a victim of hunger that I always am. I'm now going to do my walk of shame back to my bed and am going to rewrite this evening's events in my head in a way that doesn't make me look like a bumbling idiot. Guten nuit!

The Japanese Crisis

God's superpowers worked; my email life is what it used to be again! I can finally move past this crisis and focus on more important things. Like a new STIDT. I think it's been a while since I had one that was this embarrassing. So here goes: I was talking to one of my coworkers about New York and the kind of work I did there. He asked me if I knew Yashi Hibachi**. And you know me and my hearing issues, so I heard, "Have you been to (a) Hibachi (restaurant)?" I think I have this disease where everything sounds like food or dessert to me. So I went on to explain to him how I don’t frequent Japanese places too often due to their lack of vegetarian options. He gave me a blank for a second and said, “Uhh, I meant if you knew this woman called Yashi Hibachi who works out of the New York office.”

Sometimes, I think the earth just needs to open up and swallow me whole. I’m sure this will be beneficial to all mankind.

**or a similar sounding Japanese name

Mysteries Resolved

First, that "adventurous" thing I was planning on doing today? Never happened. The sudden and insane desire to have Raclette and Movenpick won over. I made a mad dash to the nearest Coop (grocery store) after work and bought these items. I was almost ready to open up the Movenpick container and start eating while waiting in line. And I LOVE Raclette. If I could marry it, I would. Usually, one needs a Raclette grill in order to properly enjoy it, but I'm nothing if not resourceful when it comes to food. So I just had baked potatoes and Raclette for dinner. The presentation came out quite nice; I was about to take a picture for you. But something happens to me when I look at food; I can't quite explain what. I forget about anything and everything, and the only thing that matters in that moment is to inhale all that is front of me. So no pictures this time around, I'll try to exercise a little more restraint for the next time.

Ever since I landed here, there are a few mysteries that have confounded me. I'm going to address what these are and how I resolved them.

1) My Hair: My hair is usually quite voluminous, especially after I blow-dry. However, for the past ten days, the hair has been exceedingly flat and limp. At first, I thought it was because I was sick (why I think such things, I have no idea). But this continued even after I got better. Thankfully, a good Samaritan at work told me that Swiss water is really heavy, and US hair products don't have the right chemicals to combat it. Locally sold Swiss hair products have certain chemicals that absorb these minerals that make the water heavy and leave your hair weightless. I immediately made a mad dash to the local grocery store to buy a local Pantene. And voila, it worked! My hair is back to what it used to be in the US!

2) Target: If there's one thing I miss here, it's access to a local Target store. I never really realized the importance of having everything from bedsheets to pots and pans and shampoo under one roof until I got here. I wondered where the Swiss went to buy all these things. Did they go to a different store for each product? Wouldn't that be a slap in the face of the "Swiss Efficiency?" Thankfully, someone at work told me that a local Migro (another grocery store) close to work had a supermarket on the lower level. So, off I went downhill on a cobble stone, wearing ridonkulous heels, and made it to the store without a single fall, which in itself, is an achievement, as you all know. One day I'll do a post of just how many times I've already fallen here in Zurich. Anyway, I went to the lower level and was greeted by the sight of pots and pans and sheets and bags and everything that Target offered! I just closed my eyes, stood in between the sheets and pans, and felt right at home. I also bought a "dual voltage" travel hair dryer, and a few other products. Which brings me to the last mystery of the week...

3) The burning hair dryer: My hair dryer saga is well chronicled here. What I just learned today is that even if something says "dual voltage", there is a small switch at the bottom of any such appliance, that needs to be flicked "on" for that appliance to change voltage. Since my brain isn't scientifically advanced enough to know such things, I managed to burn a "dual voltage" appliance.

Now for STIDT of the day: This morning, I was listening to a particularly good podcast of This American Life on the tram. I vaguely heard some announcement on the tram, but since it was in German, I didn't understand it/ignored it. Immediately, I saw all but one person get out of the tram. In that moment, I decided to be my own person and not follow the herd. So what if they understood the announcement? I didn't! And if I didn't, well, then it just didn't mean anything. And I went back to listening to the podcast. The display screen on the tram hadn't changed, so I just assumed that the tram was taking another route to get to Uteliberg (the office where I work). A little while later I noticed that the tram had changed directions and was now heading back in the opposite direction! Then it dawned on me that the announcement was probably about the tram NOT going to Uteliberg, but rather, going back to the yard (or wherever it is that trams go). I finally got off, crossed the street, and waited for the next tram. But as I've mentioned before, my ridiculousness is genetic. I'm just an innocent victim here.

Information overload

I had a dream. A dream that I would wake up at six and go running by the lake. But I had forgotten that I hadn't done a STIDT(Stupid Thing I Did Today) yet, so it was time for one. I tried setting the alarm clock, but couldn't find the "Alarm On" button. I know. I am a moron. Sue me. Anyway, as a back up, I decided to set the alarm on my cell phone. For some reason, I still thought that my cellphone was on NY time. So, instead of setting an alarm for six am, I set one for midnight (since six am here is midnight in NY). What happened? Well, the alarm went off...at midnight. Hugh Jackman was just about to ask me out and we were rudely interrupted by the incessant sound of my alarm. In my daze, instead of hitting "Off", I hit "snooze". So the alarm went off again in ten minutes. Finally, I turned it off, not realizing that nothing would wake me up at six am, especially if Hugh managed to ask me out. Luckily, my upstairs neighbor was kind enough to stomp around and make enough noise to wake up the dead, making it possible for me to get to work on time.

It was a short day at work today, as I had an appointment with my Relocation specialist (RS). We went to get me registered, and it was great that she was there, because the woman behind the counter spoke very little English. The RS was super nice. She walked with me around the neighborhood, took me to a couple of local bakeries, helped me find 2% milk at the grocery store, gave me some nice recipes for Raclette, and if that wasn't enough, had a 50 page binder on her for me! I think my questions probably made her wish that she were a monk or that she didn't speak any English. After coming back to the apartment, she sat down with me and went over everything from how to do laundry to where the nearest dance studio was. She even figured out where the "On" button was on the alarm! My brain is currently hemorrhaging information that she provided me for over two and a half hours. Here's the binder that we went through, in addition to the neighborhood walk:



The weather today was absolutely delightful, so I finally went out for that run by the lake. The run wasn't very good; I was distracted by smells of street food and by the sights of ice-cream, so toward the end, the run had transformed itself into a slow walk. It was still a lot of fun.

As a part of my two and a half hour indoctrination into the Swiss lifestyle, I discovered the following:

- There is no such thing as "Sign here" on any swiss forms. The woman drew an outline on a box and told me I could only sign inside that box, otherwise the form would be nullified.

- The Swiss have a garbage schedule. No, it's not just what days the garbage truck will come by, it's also what days can you dispose off certain kinds of garbage. There's a specific day to dispose paper, plastic, regular garbage, gardening garbage, etc. To dispose the wrong garbage on the wrong day is the biggest crime of all. If you come over and take a look at the pristine condition the city is kept in, you will understand why. Everyone in Zurich gets a timetable that looks like this:



- Everything here runs on time. Everything. The tram is never even 15 seconds late. It's spooky, but great for neurotic people like me.

That's all for today. I'm may be doing something adventurous tomorrow. We'll see how it ends and whether it's postworthy or just too shameful to even be put in writing. Ciao!

Third "First Day"

Just in case you were thinking that this whole STIDT is a one-off thing, I'm here to prove you wrong. But before I go about doing just that, here's a little glimpse at my third-first day in the office:

The Gods of Wellness finally paid heed to my plight, so their blessings, coupled with a 1.5x dose of MediNait, knocked me out for most of last night. I definitely feel eighty percent more human today. I now sound like a sixty year old grandmother, which is a marked improvement. So today was the first time I spent the entire day, and then some, at work. Based on my first impressions, I can tell you that everyone is SUPER NICE. I cannot emphasize that enough. One of my coworkers spent the better part of his day just going over the project with me, taking pains to print out documents, and ignoring the hacking and hawing. I honestly was just expecting him to hand me a bunch of documents and asking me to review them, but he really took the time to make sure I had a good overview of what I was getting into. Next up, lunch…

Everyone here is aware of my love affair with food, and the I know many of you are surprised about the lack of food mentions here. But there's a good reason - I've just been having soup and salad since I arrived here. I can't taste anything, so there's no point in wasting good food on my tasteless taste buds for now. Anyway, here's the thing about living in a German speaking region - everything, including the cafeteria menu, is in German! The cafeteria is HUGE, with many, many options for lunch, none of which I understood. Luckily, yesterday I went for lunch with a German speaker, who was instrumental in ensuring that I knew what I was consuming. Today, I decided to be Dora The Explorer and went for lunch all by myself. By the time I got to the cafeteria, Dora had fled and the 60yr old grandmother had returned. As the time grew closer and closer for me to make a selection, I abandoned all pride, turned around, and asked the guy behind me in my raspy, grandmotherly voice, "Excuse me, do you speak German?". "Yes, I do", he replied. After mentally falling at his feet in gratitude, I asked if he could kindly translate the menu for me in English. Thankfully, he did, and I was able to have rice and a dosa type thingy with curry for lunch. I crashed someone else's lunch party and butted in their private conversations, but they were kind enough to let me join them and even waited for me to finish my lunch and left with me. See what I mean by SUPER NICE now? I also had a drinks thing with everyone on the floor, but more on that tomorrow.

Anyway, back to STIDIT. I'm not going to post one everyday, but every now and then, when they become too much even for me, I need to share. Lucky for you, today is the day. So, as I mentioned earlier, one of my coworkers spent a lot of time with me today. What I neglected to mention is that he asked me, "So do you have a folder (on the network)?" and I , due to my mental problems, heard, "So, do you have a home?" Now, I know home and folder don't rhyme. Intellectually, spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally, I know this. But somehow, there was a disconnect, as there often is, between my brain and my mouth. So I went off on a five minute monologue about my new apartment, where it was, how much I liked it, etc. As I paused to take a deep breath, he replied, "Uh..I was asking if you have a folder on the network so I can copy these files over there for you." Even though I am not White, my face turn almost red at my gaffe. But he was kind and talked to me about the apartment for a bit.

Then, then this happened: He was showing me something on the monitor, and he got the message "Your computer is shutting down…" He was baffled at the cause and did NOT understand what was happening. I had a sick feeling that I had something to do with this. He started looking for his CPU, and sure enough, the CPU was on the floor, right next to my…foot. I had accidentally kicked the Off button and initiated the shut down! I don't think he realized that it was me and blamed the computer, as we often do, for being stupid. I wholeheartedly and enthusiastically agreed with him on the computer's lack of intelligence. But deep down, I knew it was me. And that knowledge fills me with shame. But I can't help it, my stupidity is genetic and hereditary. Being ashamed of it would be like being ashamed of being born with something - it's out of your control. You can only accept it and move on, which is exactly what I ended up doing. Oh well, sooner or later, even the people here will have to know that I do stupid things on a daily basis. The sooner they find out about it, the better I think!

STIDT: First Edition

I promise not to make this whole blog about my mucus, but really, who isn't missing the irony here? I was perfectly fine for three months back in NY - snow, wind, thunderstorms - nothing had the power to make me reach for Nyquil. And the minute I land here, I get sick. I had such wonderful dreams of making a splashy entrance at work with my new suits and my new haircut. Instead, I end up going in hacking and hawing and sounding worse than Betty White. The group here was probably expecting a 20-something yr old Business Analyst and instead got stuck with an 80yr old sounding crazywoman. Oh well, life is full of disappointments, so whatchagonnado?

So here's another life lesson: Nyquil's brother is good, but not as effective as the original. It's more like a step-brother actually. MediNait didn't knock me out for 8 hours like Nyquil usually does, so by 1am, I was wide awake. Unlike the previous two nights though, this time I made myself fall asleep by promising myself Hugh Jackman dreams. The sleep itself was fitful, but I did manage to sleep for the first time in 48 hours, which is great. I did, however, have to pull a Britney Spears and do a wardrobe change in the middle of the night when my fever broke and I woke up drenched in sweat. Joy. The good news is that I think my sneezing and coughing has improved by .0000001 second/cough (I think), so it's only a matter of time before I'm fully recovered, right?

As you all also know, I have been known to say and do dumb things every now and then (read: everyday). In fact, a certain someone had a running list of "Top 10 things Jigz said" in college. Usually I limit myself to 1 dumb thing a day, but jetlag + sickness = party time for dumbastic activities. So without further ado, here is the first edition of the Stupid Things I Did Today, known from here on out as STIDT:

- Sat at someone else's desk instead of mine for 10 min, earning confused looks from everyone around me. Eventually I realized what I had done and apologized to the legitimately confused look-givers.

- Someone tried to take a look at my ID to write down my name correctly, but for some reason, I offered her my palm - I still have no idea why. I also couldn't understand why she wanted my ID. So every time she'd ask for my ID, I'd give her my palm. This continued for a minute before I realized what I was doing and finally offered her my ID so she could spell my name correctly while writing it down.

- Jammed the printer on my non-first first day, delaying everyone else's document printing.

- Tried to self-translate the vending machine instructions that were in German and ended up paying 1.60sF without getting any M&Ms in return.

- At 1am, when I couldn't sleep, I went to the lobby to ask for some salt so I could do salt-water gargles. Unfortunately, the receptionist's English wasn't very good, so I had to explain Salt as follows: White, powder, and doing the salt shaker imitation. Needless to say, his eyes grew wider and wider every time I said or did that. Finally, I pretended that there was breakfast in front of me and I was adding salt and pepper to it, and I kept saying, "Food, salt, and pepper", and pretended to pour salt and pepper on my plate simultaneously. He finally understood and asked housekeeping to bring me...Pepper.

Since I look like a horror story these days, I came back to the hotel at around three in the afternoon. The sun was out so I decided to explore the area a bit. The exploration lasted all of five minutes, after which the hawing and the sneezing won and I came back to the hotel room and crashed for a couple of hours, which mercifully limited STIDT to just the above acts. But fear not, tomorrow is another day. The STIDT list will do nothing but keep on growing and growing and growing...