The Commute Part 2 (SS)

I am always fascinated at the amount of opportunity we have in our lives. We can choose to live so many different ways. "The Commute" is a short series I have written in order to provide a stark contrast in how we choose to live our lives by comparing something as simple as our commute to work; something we do not always see as being significant. If you haven’t already done so, I would therefore recommend you read “The Commute” posted earlier in conjunction with this posting (see July 2007 archive).

London, England

Tube doors open and I stumble out, clutching my purse at my side. My eyes quickly scan right, left, forward, and back, as I weave my way through the crowded platform in an attempt to find the “Way Out.” I am constantly bumped one way and then the next as I ricochet off the masses. We are like a stream of fish swirling toward the escalator with seemingly no end. I finally reach the top, pull out my Oyster card, swipe it through the turnstyles, take a quick right, down the stairs, quick left, and then step out into the cool crisp autumn evening air, sucking it in with full and welcoming breaths.

My steps fall into the rhythm of the music playing on my ipod as I begin my trek home. I pass the Tower of London, spectacularly lit, and walk onto the Tower Bridge. I had a long day and was looking forward to getting home as quickly as possible. However, halfway across the Tower Bridge, I was stopped. They were raising the draw bridge. Already, several dozen tourists were crammed up toward the middle, their cameras flashing as the draw bridge slowly raised.

I stood in awe watching as this ancient (by American standards) gorgeous Tower Bridge drew up to an almost vertical angle, the sheer impact of its undertaking, beauty, and history overwhelmed me. An old classic, wooden sailboat glided underneath the bridge. Once clear, the draw bridge slowly lowered into its original position.

Gates then opened and I resumed my earlier pace and continued my commute. Once home, I collapsed into bed, then rose the next day to do it all over.

I was wrong (M)

I was wrong.

While, yes, I can be slightly shall we say “overconfident” at times (I blame 4 years at Santa Barbara), I am always the first to admit when I am wrong and especially as of lately, to ask for help if needed.

I moved today to London.

I expected it be easy. I mean, I moved over 6000 miles from San Francisco to Zurich 2 years ago, how could a little move to London, a mere one hour and thirty minute flight, be so difficult? It was 100 times more so.

You know that feeling, when your broken heart physically aches, the air suddenly feels so thin you gasp for air and your body is suddenly removed from the physical place in which it stood. You are no longer a part of the environment but rather merely an invisible observer, watching the world pass by in a supernatural slow motion. You know that feeling, we have all been there.

As I sat on the plane, with watery eyes and an occasional teardrop which disobediently escaped making a run down my cheek, I suddenly realized, I was wrong. It is not the experiences, the trips around the world and exciting adventures that give us meaning or happiness; it is the people in them. Obvious, right? But wouldn’t it be nice to have both??


Ich wünsche, dass der Schmerz, die Traurigkeit zu verschwinden aufhalten würde. Aber mann fühlt Schmerz nur, wenn mann einen großen Verlust fühlt. Ich bin glücklich, etwas so wunderbar gehabt zu haben, solchen großen Schmerz jetzt zu haben, dass es gegangen ist. Dort immer wird ein Ort in meinem Herzen für Die Schweiz und jene sein zu dem ich bin geworden nah mit. Leben ist eine lustige Reise, und, wer wirklich weiß, was der Morgen bringt?

Random Swiss Facts- Part 2 (F)

Please see my quick note at the top for Part 1 if you have not already.

1) “The right of Swiss women to vote and stand for federal elections only came in 1971, and women’s right to vote in Appenzell-Rhoden (one of the cantons) was only passed in April 1991.” – Insights Guide Switzerland

First, few women work in professional careers, hence the abundance of secretaries here, which also leads me to one of Switzerland’s greatest mysteries, “Just what exactly do secretaries here do???”

Although, before I continue, there are some very good ones out there, and in their defense, are not normally treated so well. But then again, unfair treatment is something you simply need to learn to accept, unless you are a married Swiss man (think US about 40 years ago).

Upon my first day of work commuting into the Basel office, I boarded the morning first class train from Zurich to Basel. Seat after seat was filled with tall, skinny white guy in black suit. Upon arriving at the office, I was then introduced to colleague after colleague, whose appearance held no distinction other than white guy, black suit, with a name such as “*&%$” “&*@#” and “#*^%”. To this day, I have trouble differentiating the people at the firm.

The attitude in the workforce here is the following:

“Why would we pay you and promote you if you are just going to have babies and quit? But don’t worry, we will take care of your husband for you.”

Actually, I digress, this isn’t the attitude, this is what is explicitly said. If we were in the States, I could probably have had half the firm fired for some of the things that were said to me as well as my colleagues. But I am no feminist, this not a political blog, and we are not in America (some Americans have trouble figuring this out), so I would prefer to not go into this subject. Instead, I moved to London (for many other reasons as well). I mean, I do have this thing for overweight, pale guys with bad teeth….

4) There is no single culture here. This fact leads me to one of Switzerland’s second greatest mysteries which is twofold, “How do people meet each other?” And “Where are all the single people??”

Although, as it is socially unacceptable to be single here ( I have been informed that all single girls are on a desperate hunt for a relationship and that many Swiss guys are too shy to even approach a girl), troubled relationships with a false pretense of perfection are common, and so is cheating. Again, please do not take offense to this as this is just a generalization. What you do find a lot of are people who have been together for many years, usually since school years that stay together because, well, who wants to be that loser single person (such as myself).

I get asked a lot by friends back at home about the guys and bar scene here, but to be completely honest, I have no answer, because there isn’t one (at least compared to American standards). However, upon my trips to the States I do become overwhelmed and admittedly a bit frightened at being attacked by the “Marina guy.”

What they do have here is lounges, lots of them. And the purpose of going to a bar is not to meet people, but to hang out with the people you came with. Strange concept, huh? Why would you want to hang out with just your friends?

But you will most certainly not find the big groups of girls out for a night on the town. Some groups of guys, but they consist mainly of a bunch of stuffy Swiss bankers, still dressed in suit and tie, whose look is normally complemented by the slightly slicked back hair and air of “I am utterly boring and dull, but hey, I have money so I am great”.

I would love to bring my Cali girls here for just one night on the town in Zurich. I am sure we would all be arrested.

Random Swiss Facts- Part 1 (F)

OK, before you read this, please refer to my Disclaimer of Liability at the top, it has come to my attention, that this posting was slightly misinterpreted by some Swiss colleagues.

I would like to emphasize that these are meant to be entertaining and do not necessarily reflect my opinion on Switzerland. I have a very positive impression of this country and am quite sad to depart. Any country, this size, which can achieve one of the highest standards of living and an economy which is recognized globally has my sincere respect.

But above all, I have made some very strong relationships which I know that regardless of time, will always remain true. Beneath the mounds of makeup and designer clothes of the Swiss (only in the Zurich region actually..it is like the LA of Switzerland) the substance behind a relationship once formed, is one of the strongest you will find, and I am lucky to have discovered that.

So, now that we have that whole touchy feeling thing clarified, let's move back into the more humorous portion of this posting.

I mean, if you cannot make fun of yourself, you are taking life way too seriously.

Every country has a story to tell or interesting fact to be learned. Here are just a few of those I believe to be worth mentioning.

But before, I begin; one clarification. No, I am not the only brunette here. You are thinking of Sweden. I live in Switzerland. They are two separate countries.

1) “The 16th century Genevese were the most decadent citizens of Switzerland. Their moral plateau was a city statute that levied a modest charge on men who kept more than one mistress at a time.”- Insights Guide Switzerland.

Hmmm…French influence definitely evident there. One wonders if this was a moral point, or simply an attempt to keep the playing field as equal as possible so that one man was not hoarding all the beautiful women.

My personal opinion is that the law was created by an unattractive man without any social graces. He was most likely the lone child at the high school dance hiding behind the bleachers watching in jealousy at the other girls and guys dancing, who upon summoning enough courage to ask the "hot girl" to dance, was laughed at and rejected. This man grew to become a powerful politician and then used his newly founded power for revenge.

This phenomenom of men using power to overcome shortcomings is prevalent throughout history including modern times in the U.S. as well. Haven't you noticed how all the men in Washington D.C. (political capital) are short??? Hmmm...small man complex there for sure. Think Napolean.

Either that, or the law was put forth by a business owner frustrated over the lack of productivity from his employees due to their very “long lunches” and charging hours for "working late."

2) If a Swiss guy tries to pick up a Swiss girl at a bar, within the first five minutes she will inevitably ask, “What do you do?” And “How much money do you make?”

First of all, I should quickly point out that this situation is not very common. Swiss guys don’t normally pick up on or even approach a girl at a bar. This question is therefore normally asked usually after the first non-date date (Swiss don’t believe in dating, they just “hang out together”).

However, in a culture in which the role of a woman is to simply stay at home and have babies and the man is the sole income provider, then her desired lifestyle is completely dependent on what he makes. So, why shouldn’t she ask this question?? I mean, wouldn’t you?

The Thread (M)

If you are merely hanging on by a thread for too long, it will break, and you will fall.
Your only chance of survival is to have a strong net below to catch you when you fall.

Given the lifestyle I have chosen to lead, I often find myself precariously hanging by that thread. The minute I set myself on some sturdy ground, I recklessly swing back out there in an almost sado-masochistic manner, and I admit, I have fallen, a lot.

Yet I am still miraculously standing, and even more miraculously is the impenetrable net I have amazingly constructed below. This net is comprised of family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers whom I have met or who have entered this whirlwind of my life and supported me along the way. Some consciously, others not, but regardless, I don’t think I could ever possibly thank the many people who have supported me along the way and for whom I am eternally grateful.

So this part below is super cheesy as it does sound a bit like I just won an Emmy or something, but at this point, successfully making it to London would be just as great an achievement for me. In California terms, we like to say that the following is a “Shout Out” to some (but certainly not all) the people who have helped me along the way.

These people include my high school friends who albeit the different directions we have chosen, still encourage me wherever my passion lies, my college friends who have seen me through it all, my Deloitte Divas, who are simply some of the most amazing people I have met and whose successes I am so proud of and who always open up their doors and make available their time when I am back in town, my SF roomies at the old 1788 Union Street who were like my little temp family, the Fluehgasse 7 boys, whom I would never have survived Zurich without and who have opened up their home several times during my homeless phases and could always make me feel better with a “Awww..Ri, Ri” and a big hug after a bad day as well as my neighbor in the crack house next door who offered up his lamp and allowed me to come over and use his couch and TV at 10:00pm so I didn’t have to stand over the sink in the dark to eat dinner alone as it took 2 months for the couch to get delivered. My close Swiss colleagues whom I will miss dearly, as well as those colleagues at the firm who went out of their way to welcome me into a sometimes uncomfortable environment.

I of course, will not forget the Malura family who opened up their home to a stranger while I was in Munich, my E&Y expat colleagues all over the world..whose unexpected sametime (instant messenger) popups always put a smile on my face when I was feeling down and for the good times at Oktoberfest…will see you same time same place next year!

Of course there are my abroad friends from Barcelona, the Altgasse Maedchen from Vienna, and most recently, my “chicas guapas roomies en Costa Rica” aka “old women of the group” whom I seem to meet up with all over the world.


Then there is my family, who regrettably live all over the country making it difficult to see them often, but when I am in town, it is like no time has passed in between.

Right now, I cannot thank enough however, everyone who has helped me on my transition to London, which has turned into a bit of a horrific ordeal, only further worsened as a lot of the blame was my fault due to mistakes I made processing the paperwork to get into the UK resulting in finding myself homeless, all of my belongings divided into several apartments (mainly Kevin and Dave’s cellar), and sleeping from floor to couch to futon to mattress on the floor (luxury-thanks Colm!), but worse, missing my friend’s wedding as I am literally stuck in Switzerland just waiting, unemployed for many weeks (which I have trouble enjoying).

To make it worse, the end is nowhere near as upon my arrival in London, I will have to start the whole process all over again. But I am extremely lucky, as I have a strong net of people who have even already offered their places and put up with me popping in and out already while interviewing and looking at some flats supporting me along the way.

But first, and foremost, it is my parents whom I most grateful for. As I am sure that while their preference would be to have me close nearby, they always still support and encourage me on my next adventure.

I often feel guilty having to rely so much as well as fall back on so frequently this net to catch me when I fall. While a net is there to support you, you still put pressure on it and disrupt it every time you do. And at the end of the day, the climb back up, you still need to make alone. And at this point, I am simply exhausted. Perhaps I need to find a stronger rope.

While it may not be possible to thank everyone as well as return the favor, the only way to truly say “Thank you” is to turn and catch the next person who is falling your way.

Swiss German (F)

Originally written in February 2006

I decided that the reason so many people smoke here is because you need all that phlegm in your throat to make those guttural sounds. If you have never heard Swiss German, let’s just say that it makes German sound like a romantic language.

When I interviewed I made it clear that I did not want to work with a bunch of Ex-Pats. We have some large engagements where less than half of the team, if even that, are Swiss….and I got what I asked for.

It is definitely an interesting experience to sit in an audit room where everyone ONLY speaks Swiss German unless they are talking directly to you. I was working with some Swiss guys all week and finally at lunch on Friday one of them mentioned in English that he had just bought his first car. I of course commented how exciting that was, but then he gave me a funny look and was like “Uh, I have been talking about this all week.”

Silence, awkward pause.

Then he turns to me and says, “Oh, yeah, you do not understand.”

I have since mastered the technique of attempting to smile at the appropriate time or give a quick nod when you are in the midst of a group of Swiss German speakers. This has been perfected to such an extent that on more than one occasion I have been able to deceive a passerby or someone standing next to you who makes a quick comment..or so I think…

I am “THAT WEIRD FOREIGNER!” (F)

Written originally and sent out in March 2006

As many people know, Switzerland is famous for its Swiss Alps and the skiing! Just as we have Spring Break in the States, they have Ski Week for the kids in Switzerland. Skiing is such a huge part of their life that each industry group within our firm has our very own ski weekend. So when ours came up in the end of March, I was excited to go.

But as I learn time and time again, nothing is simple in a foreign country, especially when you don’t speak the language.

Now, at this point, I had only worked on one project since I had joined the firm and had actually never even met anyone in my industry group, which happens to be almost entirely Swiss (well, we are in Switzerland). So early Saturday morning, a bit nervous as I did not really know anyone who would be there, I jumped into a car with 2 Swiss colleagues of mine who had offered a ride, and off we went to Arosa.

The last time I went skiing I was about 10 years old, hence I own no ski clothes, which are extremely expensive here. Solution? My good friend Kevin lent me his. So once we arrived, I timidly changed into his clothes which were about five sizes too big, rented some skis, and off I went.

Humility and humbleness are two emotions here which I have quickly learned. While I enjoyed myself on the weekend..I cannot even begin to describe to you how awkward an entire weekend of being that “weird foreigner” truly is. Now, while the Swiss love skiing, they also love stopping off at the outdoor lodges and grabbing a drink even more (men that is..most Swiss girls merely sip on a beer pretending to drink). The weather was amazingly warm, you could sit out in a T-shirt and there was a huge group of us sitting out on the tables drinking and chatting, well they were…

But I found myself, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, sitting quietly amongst everyone not understanding a clue as to what they were saying. Sometimes someone would eventually turn to me and explain in English, and sometimes they talked to you in English one and one, but the minute another Swiss person entered the conversation, it inevitably reversed back to Swiss German and then I would stand there dumbly smiling, with the song lyrics “Should I stay or should I go now?” resonating in my head, knowing I looked ridiculous just standing there while they knew I did not know what they were talking about, but also with nowhere to go unless I wanted to go stand in a corner alone staring at the wall.

Sometimes it is a bit like feeling like a helpless child, with people jabbering away discussing plans in which you can contribute nothing to the conversation, but have to stand there and wait until the decision is final so that someone can hopefully remember to turn to you and say in English, “We are meeting for lunch at 1pm” or “We are going to the next club now.”

However, I have found a few Swiss friends in my group, one girl offered to ski with me, and after our warm-up run down a bunny hill, we went up one of the lifts only to realize in horror at the top that it was only Black Diamonds on the way down. I have to admit I was scared s***less, but was extremely proud of myself after making it down, that is, until one of my Swiss co-workers, who had brought his 4 year old daughter along, points to one of the Black Diamond runs and tells me how he took his daughter down it on the last run. Talk about a shot to the ego…

Saturday night was a lot of fun, after a big Swiss cheese fondue in one of the lodges, the firm arranged for a bunch of sleds to be brought to the restaurant. And when I say sled, I mean the old classic wooden runners which get going so fast your life is in the hands of nature as you have absolutely no control, and of course, these sleds are made even more dangerous given the amount of alcohol we had been consuming throughout the day and dinner. So, in order to make it to the clubs below, we had to sled down the mountain on a track similar to a bobsled track, a bit wider, but I swear, just as fast. Immediately, my competitive manager, who is determined to make it down first, grabs a sled, grabs me and off we go full speed. Of course, it is not long before we go crashing around a corner, flipping over, and flying down the track in front of the entire group. Hmmm…notice the trend??? I seem to have a strange habit of embarrassing myself…

Die Zeit ist gekommen (R)

English version below :-)

Liebe Kolleginnen und Kollegen,

Die Zeit ist gekommen. Ich werde bald nach London fliegen und verlasse EY mit sehr gemischten Gefühlen: Traurig, ein Kapitel von meinem Leben zu beenden, aber gleichzeitig aufgeregt wegen den Abenteuer, die nun auf mich zu kommen. Ich will mich ganz herzlich bedanken, dass mir die Gelegenheit geboten wurde, die letzten Jahre hier verbringen zu dürfen, und besonders dankbar bin ich, für die vielen Momente, die ich mit so vielen bemerkenswerten Leuten verbringen durfte. In der Zeit bei EY konnte ich persönlich und beruflich viel lernen. Die Erfahrungen, die ich hier machen durfte, und ganz besonders die Beziehungen, die ich knüpfen konnte, hatten einen positiven Einfluss auf mein Leben und ich werde es nie vergessen.

Und für meine Basler Kollegen, bitte vergesst nie: „I have a dream..“

Sollte Sie mal in London sein, lassen Sie es mich wissen und schreiben Sie mir ein Mail.

Alles Gute für die Zukunft und lassen Sie uns in Verbindung bleiben.

Dear colleagues,

The time has come. I am flying out to London soon and leaving with very mixed feelings. Sad to be ending one chapter of my life, but excited for the adventures yet to come. I just wanted to say how thankful I am to have had the opportunity to be here, and especially how grateful I am to have worked with so many remarkable people. I have grown a tremendous amount the last couple of years, both personally and professionally. While many of you may not know it, as it is not always explicitly expressed, the experiences I have had here, and more importantly, the relationships I have built, have made a positive impact on my life and will not be forgotten.

And for my Basel colleagues, always remember “I have a dream…”

Should you ever be in London, be sure to drop me a line! Best of luck in the future and keep in touch!

Countdown Part 2- "My Dream Life as a UPS Driver" (M)

When I was a student at Santa Barbara, I had a professor who taught one of the last pre-requisite classes to get into the Business Economics major. As a result, he was constantly inundated with students on the borderline in terms of minimum grade requirements begging to have their grade raised.

Frustrated at all the students pleading with him year after year with story after story, he decided to make a statement in front of our class of 250 students.

“I was coming home from a long day of work in which everything had gone wrong. I was pissed off, in a bad mood, stressed out after missing the latest deadline, and exhausted after all the long hours. To make matters worse, I am stuck in deadlock traffic and going nowhere. As I glance around, I notice a UPS driver pulled up alongside me. He has his music playing, singing along with a smile on his face. His upbeat mannerisms are a stark contract to the scowl imprinted on my face. His only worry is that a package may get delayed or damaged, whereas I have the lawyers, bankers, and company management pushing the weight of the world onto my shoulders.

The point is, not everyone is meant for the business world. If you cannot score high enough on these exams, than maybe this just is not the profession for you, maybe you should consider becoming a UPS driver. It is probably a better life you would lead.”

At the time, I remember being horrified about how cruel he was to the students who so desperately wanted to get into the major but were just so bluntly told they were not smart enough to get in.

Of course now I realize, that there really is no such thing as being smart or not (well, maybe not so black and white). We are simply better at some things and not so great at others…you should have heard the laughter of the kids in Costa Rica at my pathetic attempt to draw stick picture figures playing sports when teaching them English.

And now, I also finally understand what my professor meant. To be honest, the UPS driver probably does have a better life. But the irony is that if it is so much better, then why didn’t he become a UPS driver, or why don’t we all???

It is that thing inside of you that drives you, pushes you as hard as you can until you can go no more. Not everyone has it, and it is not always a good thing.

Sometimes I wish I were the UPS driver, or better yet, the type of girl who just goes out and finds herself a nice rich man to take care of her (nothing wrong with that ladies!), but I am not.

I am sitting on my bed, surrounded by clothes, boxes, bags, and just random junk. People are coming tomorrow to take all my bedroom furniture, bookshelves, and cabinets. I will be sleeping the next week on my couch until someone takes that too, and then it is the floor. I need to be out of my apartment September 28 and have a one-way ticket from Zürich to London on September 29. But delays in my visa may cause me to get stuck in Switzerland for some extra time homeless. It is impossible to know how quickly the process will go. I am once again reducing all of my possessions to a few suitcases trying so hard not to look back.

Living life so up in the air, not knowing what is going to happen, trying to get everything organized all on your own (which Switzerland makes about 1000x more difficult) is exhausting, frustrating, and well, just plain difficult. But this is all self-inflicted. I chose to live my life like this. And sometimes I wish and think to myself, why can’t I be that UPS driver? But at the end of the day, (Keith you would be so proud that statement), you have to accept who you are and go with it. I have, and here I go again…

A Global Generation (SS)

I am typing out another email, trying to catch up from the backlog of emails which accumulated while I was in London for the weekend staying in the flat of a friend whom I had met while on holiday in Mexico last January but who I unfortunately missed this trip up as she was out of town in Chicago that weekend for a bachelorette party.

”Totally random, and I don’t know if you remember me as we have only met a couple of times a long time ago, but I am a Pi Phi UC Santa Barbara alumni and a friend of Kyle’s. I am currently living in Zürich, Switzerland but will be moving to London in a few weeks so was just up there for the weekend looking at some flats. Kyle (whom I had not seen for 5 years but hung out with in London) mentioned you were in Korea teaching English right now? I have a good friend from Texas whom I met while volunteering in Costa Rica thinking of going to Korea to teach English as well. Would you mind providing some advice?”

I then shoot a quick note to the guy on the plane I met on my trip to London last Friday who was ironically moving from London to Switzerland and me from Switzerland to London and so we were swapping advice, and then back to another friend, who lives in Pennsylvania, whom I met in Costa Rica who is looking for an internship in New York at a Big 4 Firm, then emailed a bunch of people in San Francisco and NY looking for contacts.

My Blackberry beeps, message from a friend in SF who was letting me know that a friend of hers was in London for the month working and maybe we should meet for a drink. I respond that I am back in Zürich, so I will miss the chance to meet her, but turns out she has another friend who is working in London for a few months but goes to Zürich a lot for work and copies her friend. She contacts me, and we schedule a dinner for next Wednesday in Zürich. Monday I have dinner with my Dad in Zürich as he is in town also for work for a couple of days. I then get an instant message from a former co-worker from our Amsterdam office who is now working in Michigan asking me if I will be making it to Oktoberfest in Münich this year. No, I have to move to London that weekend…so sad I cannot make it! I then get another instant message from a co-worker who just moved from Berlin to Moscow asking me the same Q. So sad I will be missing everyone! What awful timing.

And so the day goes on as like all my days,..and suddenly I look back at the flood of emails coming in from all over the world, I mean, we truly are the global generation.

Defining Moments within my Swiss Experience (SS) Part 1- "The Fat American"

I have learned and grown a lot during my short 2 years in Switzerland. This has been one rollercoaster of an experience and the following capture a few of those defining moments in my life, whether comical, difficult, or just a lesson learned.

While I was hired out of the Zürich office, I spent most of my time working in the Basel office, which, albeit the long commute, I quite enjoyed as I really like the people and environment there. Upon my first day, the Syngenta team was excited to take me out to lunch. After declining an invitation to the recently opened Burger King (which I thought was a joke, but later found out the partner was serious), me, one of the partners, and 2 Senior Managers went out to lunch. During lunch one colleague turned to me and said,

“Huh, you are not quite what we expected.” – Swiss colleagues
“Really, how so?” -me
“Well, you are American…we expected you would be fat.”

Oh, and so the stereotype goes…sadly it is quite true.

The World Is My Playground (R)

I have come to the conclusion that the world is like one big playground for adults..I mean, we never really do grow up do we? We get jobs, like me who dresses up in a black suit smartly complemented with a grim face as if it were a Halloween costume and goes off to work to spend my day typing madly in front of a laptop in a stuffy room.

Long gone are the glorious days of a school bell to indicate the end of the day..we end the day when you simply can go on no more. So why do we do it?

Because like recess was play time when you were a kid and you stared longingly at the clock waiting for the next one, vacation is an adult’s recess. But this time, instead of running for the balls to start up a competitive game of 4 square, I pack up my bags to go off on my next adventure.

However, when swinging through the world, sometimes you are pushed so hard, you fall off and get scraped up and bruised. But you just get back up, and know that this time, you need to hold tighter. After all, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.

Swiss Miss

The following will be all those little things I will miss about Switzerland…this will continue to grow as things pop into my head..that song “A few of my favorite things” is now annoyingly stuck in my head as I write this…

“Birchermuesli”

Pronounced (Beer-chka(hock a luggi)-mew-slee)—go it? While I am not such a fan of the Gipfeli (croissants) that all Swiss eat every morning for breakfast, well I am simply not such a fan of the food here in general, but I have grown very fond of birchermuesli which, every place makes a bit different, but usually consists mainly of yogurt, fresh fruit, and wheat flakes (description does not do it justice). While interviewing in London, I popped into one of those Take Away (To Go (American translation)) places to grab lunch. I was so excited when in a little container next to the yogurts, was labeled “Swiss Birchermuesli”!

Aside from Mexican food, which all Americans living abroad desperately crave, my other vice was Diet Coke..and yes, they do have Cola Light here, but it is not the same! If you disagree with me, then you are not a true Diet Coke addict. Moving to London, my one food craving will undoubtedly be birchermuesli, and so upon seeing this at the little shop, I knew London was meant to be. Needless to say I purchased the birchermuesli, opened up the container and took a bit. I was shocked to find that the British version of “Swiss birchermuesli” was oatmeal mixed with yogurt topped with a single blackberry. If this is an indication of the British food to come…rough times are ahead.

“Gruezi”- (Grietsy)

Swiss German for hello, which you must ALWAYS say when passing someone. Now, I don’t mean as you are dashing through the main train station passing like a hundred people along the way. I mean, come one, that would be a bit deafening don’t you think? But it is common to look at someone, smile, and utter a quick “Gruezi” as you walk by. Much better than the normal quick glance to the ground, cold stare ahead, and ignore the passerby we are so accustomed to.

“Zum Wohl”

Many of you who have seen me recently know this one well as I get completely offended when after pouring an alcoholic drink someone simply grabs it and starts chugging. I mean, we aren’t still in college are we? Although it does feel like yesterday, I mean, how the hell did we end up here?? Anyway, I digress. So, in Switzerland, prior to even taking a sip, everyone needs to raise their glass, utter a “Zum Wohl” or “Prost” and then look at every person in the eyes.

Think that is annoying and too time consuming? Sell if you don’t, it is seven years bad sex. So if your sex life isn’t going so well…now you know why! “Zum Wohl!”

Countdown is On

Closing One Chapter and Beginning the Next

I have one month left in Zürich, my home for the last 2 years. This section will be devoted to my postings which will be a random and eclectic bunch..but hey, that is how I am. So here goes…

Countdown- Part 1 - “Never look back”

Watching people take everything you own and having to get rid of almost all possessions, many full of memories, is painful, but knowing the purpose behind it and the adventures to come make it worthwhile. I had to go through it once and now I must do it once more. It is difficult to think about the horrific ordeal I went through getting my apartment and having to start from scratch and furnish it. Memories of standing in the dark over my sink eating dinner because I had no lights or anywhere to sit, the dreaded trips to the furniture stores, and trying then to figure how to put the stuff together (or in my case waiting until some unlucky person offered their help) are still vivid. I will miss my little Wohnung am Nebelbachstrasse 10, my brown leather IKEA couch that every expat (foreigners working overseas) owns, and the barren white walls which I was too lazy to ever get the frames I bought up on the walls.

The irony of the fact that most of my friends and family are getting married, engaged, buying homes, and establishing roots is not forgotten. Eventually, I keep telling myself, but not yet.

Squeals of a Spectacular Sunset (M)

We were like a couple of pigs, gulping down our beers, squealing with delight everytime we rounded another corner and got another spectacular view of the sunset from yet another angle, climbing over the top of each other to get closest to the window for an attempted camera shot, and repeatedly snorting in anger as a tree, large pothole or sudden turn ruined each attempt to capture the moment. But no picture would have ever been able to capture the spectacularly fire colored sky set against the rolling green Costa Rican mountains enjoyed with good friends, a couple of beers, and a very rocky 5 hour van- boat-van ride from Ciudad Quesada to Monteverde. It was one of those indescribable moments in time.

The Commute (SS)

Zurich, Switzerland

It is 6:50 am as I hurriedly walk down the platform to the first class car and board the train. I quickly find an available seat, and, as is my normal procedure, place my black gym bag overhead, hang up my black suit jacket, take out my laptop from my black laptop bag and place my Blackberry next to the laptop; but only after a quick check to ensure I had not received any new messages since I last checked 5 minutes ago. I then set it close by so that the blinking light notifying me of any new messages can be seen out of the corner of my eye. By 7:02, the train is full, mainly with white men who all look the same to me; serious faces, black suits, and coffee and gipfeli (croissant) in hand. “Naechste Halt, Basel.” The train pulls out of the station but I barely notice as I am already typing away.

Ciudad Quesada, Costa Rica
It is 7; 30 am and already sunny and humid outside. “Let’s Go!” the CrossCulturalSolutions staff shout. I am standing in line with the other volunteers waiting to fill up my water bottle with our specially filtered water one last time before we head out. Once full, I swing my backpack over my shoulder and run out the door, through the gate of our barred off home base and onto the bus. In my backpack I bring only water, pen, paper, and my Spanish book which the kids love to go through since they have no textbooks at their school. I am wearing my usual work clothes of khaki capris, T-shirt, and Teva sandals and stare out the window as we drive (well, more like bounce) to my school. As I am one of the last stops, we drive through the hills, passing the many shacks, “Soda” shops, and little houses enclosed in the same prison bars as our own, dropping off the other volunteers along the way. Pulling up to my school I jump out, the kids come running shouting "Gringa Gringa!" I am overwhelmed by kisses on the cheek and then am dragged into the next game of jump rope before class begins.

Costa Rican Lessons Learned - Part 1 (F)

“My mother slept with a Costa Rican milkman.”
Or so I am told. Our Costa Rican staff informed me that my identical twin long lost Costa Rican sister works out at the gym that they go to and they all thing I look exactly like this Costa Rican girl. One of the girls joked that the locals must get really confused when I am in town and I suddenly start speaking in English. Who would of thought the Irish and Costa Ricans looked so similar?

“Lessons on getting a hot shower.”
If you have this one figured out, please let me know!

"Tico Space"
I have come to realize that the reason we are not provided with hot water is to limit how many showers we are capable of suffering through in order to lessen our exposure to the culture shock of "Tico Space."
“Tico” is what a Costa Rican refer himself as, “Tico Space” is really an oxymoron as a Tico will not actually provide any space between you and them regardless of the size of the room.

“Random Fun Facts learned in my nature walks perfect for Cocktail Parties”
- Preying mantis females rotate their heads 180 degrees and bite off the head of the male mating with them, who then actually speed up the pace for a good 20 seconds or so before finishing up. She then eats him for the nutrients for her babies.
- Tarantula females also kill and eat the males after mating.
- Walking stick insects mate for 79 days, impressive. The females don’t kill these males. Men, feeling some pressure?

Swinging like a monkey (SS)

After zipping from treetop to treetop in the rainforest of Costa Rica for an hour and a half, adrenaline pumping, we come upon our “sorpresa,” the Tarzan swing. Rather than zip across, you drop straight down before swinging out in true Tarzan, or in my case Jane, form. Climbing up onto the ledge, one guide holds onto your harness, tells you to bend your knees, and then gives you a nice, encouraging push to your death.

After watching a few go down, it is my turn. Hooked in, the guide tells me, as with the others, to bend my knees, which to me is an indication that he is ready for me to drop. Instinctively and almost to avoid the inevitable push, I step off the platform before I am supposed to go.

“No, no!” He screams, and braces himself against the railing holding me up by the back of my harness as I am helplessly dangling off the platform high above the ground. In shock, I spend a good five seconds suspended in air, arms flailing, legs wild kicking, and me screaming in true monkey fashion before finally being released.

Well, my Costa Rican chicas, I know how much you desperately wanted to see a wild monkey in the Costa Rican rainforests. Looks like you got what you asked for.

I GOT LUCKY!!! (F)

My roommates in Costa Rica are amazing! What were you thinking?

Long story short, being the random and travel freak that I am, I decided to take advantage of my time between jobs and do a completely different type of trip.

I now suddenly find myself lying on a top bunk of a four person shared room in Ciudad Quesada, Costa Rica. Who said camp was only for kids?

There are no beautiful beaches and I do not have a tropical drink in hand. Actually we are not even allowed to drink here. I am participating in a 2 week volunteer program “teaching” English at a small school to a bunch of Tico (“Costa Rican”) kids. Why teaching is in quotes, I will explain in a later blog posting.

After a quick stop in NY to see friends, I flew to Costa Rica to begin my program with the 40 other volunteers. Upon arriving at our “home base” which is like a cabin Costa Rica style in a Costa Rican suburb, I am ushered into a little room with 3 other girls, all teachers, between the ages of 25-32. I suddenly discover we are the “old women” of the program.

After meeting the other girls (almost all students and while nice, well, just young and quite a few of whom unappreciative of the experience, I am so thankful to have my roomies. Although, in defense of the students, I will admit that I spent more time running through the streets of Barcelona while studying abroad at 3am with an open wine bottle in hand than sitting through my Spanish classes, and would have most certainly never agreed to a trip involving no alcohol during my college years. I mean, wasn’t that what university was for?

But in my old age, I thirst for sophisticated conversation and early evenings to bed. Well, actually, we have somehow seemed to regress into sarcastic childhood jokes and just mesh well personality wise. Then again, while I would like to think they like me because of my witty and sweet personality, I think they may only be nice to me because I am one of the only ones with a laptop which I let them use in exchange for letting me into the “popular girls group.” This place really is like summer camp, complete with the annoying girl always trying to join into our group..whom we have secretly established a code word for as well as the “Wah wah” girl we all cannot stand who constantly complains and all avoid like the plague. Any of this bring back memories?

Weekends we have off, and this one is planned for a trip to Monteverde for some zip-lining, hiking, oh, and we knew we were all meant to be when looking hotels we saw one which had a private Jacuzzi on our own balcony and the first image we all had in our head was sipping champagne in our Jacuzzi overlooking the rainforests…needless to say we booked.

Oh, yeah, but I did mention the purpose of our trip was to volunteer right? I guess I am getting a bit side-tracked in my true ADD fashion. But as the tone will be quite different, I will save this for my next posting.

I am an addict (F)

I will admit that I have a problem. Not from drugs or alcohol, and in addition to my gym addiction, which yes, I still go to everyday, I am addicted to travelling. The more you do it, the more you need it, and I am extremely fortunate to have this opportunity. As such, the following are a couple of good travel stories, with a slight focus on my latest trip sailing in Croatia which I just returned from, and as I write this, I am still currently swaying back and forth..I suddenly understand what “landsickness” is, I think people at the Supermarket might of though I was still drunk as I am certain I was definitely not walking in a straight line.

Places Travelled (I)

September 2007: London, looking for an apartment: Munich: Oktoberfest

August 2007: San Francisco, visiting family and friends; Salt Lake City, visiting relatives; St. George, mother daughter bonding; Vegas, bachelorette party

July 2007: Ireland, traveling with parents; New York,visiting friends; Costa Rica, volunteer work

June 2007: Croatia: Sailing Trip; London, job interviews

May 2007: Muenich, Germany- studying German

February 2007: London, England- visiting friend

December 2006: Tulum, Mexico: Bikini Boot Camp. Washington D.C.: New Years Eve. Florida: Christmas with family. Krakow, Poland: Work

October 2006: München (Oktoberfest)

August 2006: London: Madonna concert and lots of shopping! Alaska: Cruise for parent's 30th Anniversary Vancouver: Dinner with Aunt Staci and cousin Alex San Francisco: Home Sweet Home

July 2006 : Montreaux, Switzerland (Montreaux Jazz Festival) Milan, Italy- Robbie Williams Concert

June 2006 : Paris- Weekend with Christina Lisbon, Portugal - Travelling with Christina and cousin Joana. Nürenberg, Germany (USA v. Ghana World Cup Game). Lagos, Portugal. Amsterdam- Work training

May 2006: Rome, Italy

April 2006: Amsterdam. Lake Garda region of Italy

March 2006: Arosa Ski Weekend

January 2006: Krakow, Poland

December 2005: Paris, France-New Years Eve, Florida- Christmas with family, San Francisco- visitng friends and family, Cleveland-work training, and seeing my cousin, his wife and their just born little girl, New York-work, then weekend with a friend in the Big Apple

November 29, 2005: Zurich: The big move!

Simple Pleasures in Life (M)

I was 6 years old. My older brother was my idol, my hero, perfect in everyway. I could only hope to someday be as great as him. I followed him through sports, racing pencils down the gutters on the hill in the pouring rain, and out of bed at 4am on Christmas Eve to tear through our Christmas stockings mischievously putting everything back in order prior to waking our parents as if nothing had happened. We were standing at a river as I watched in awe as he masterfully, at the old age of 8, threw the smooth rock into the water with a sideways flick of the wrist. It skipped gracefully several times across the surface before plunking into the depths of the water. My brother patiently showed me his “secret trick” as all brothers have one, and we spent hours scavenging the shores for the “perfect skipping rocks”, shouting with excitement everytime we had a great skip or the perfect jump.

Almost 20 years later, my Neomi II Croatian sailing crew, consisting of me, 2 American colleagues, four other Swiss randoms, and our German skipper, anchored up in a small bay near one of the tiny Croatian islands. Excited to get to land, Alissa, Kevin, and I took the dingy to shore and decided to scavenge a path around the point of the island and suddenly found ourselves standing on the rocky cliffs of a secluded beautiful bay. Out of shape after spending the last few days sleeping, drinking, and eating on the boat, we needed a rest from the walk and plopped down on the rocks to simply take in the spectacular view. Suddenly I heard a familiar “plop, plop, plop, splash.” sound which took me immediately back to childhood.

We were in luck. Kevin had found some great skipping rocks among us and was expertly chucking them across the Aegean Sea. Instinctively, as if I were still that 6 year old girl, I jumped up to scour for another rock. Picking up a smooth, flat rock, I chucked it into the sea only to watch it drop discouragingly into the water. After several failed attempts I sat to watch Kevin for another half hour, with a permanent childhood smile on my face. It was one of the most surreal and peaceful moments to take so much pleasure from something as simple as skipping a rock.

“Question of the day: What do old, fat German men, speedos, and sailboats have in common?” (F)

Answer: Sailing in Croatia. Every boat we passed by as we came into each harbor or bay was filled with large German and Austrian fat men, proudly showing off their stuff in tight speedos, sprawled lazily out on their sailboats like a bunch of beached sea lions. The only movement one could see from their overweight lifeless bodies would be the slight turn of their head as we glided by, excited to see some young females (i.e. 30 years younger than anyone else in the area) on the boat. It was the strangest phenomenon, which made you ponder the question, which came first, the chicken or the egg? I mean, did the fat speedo strutting men come first and scare off all of the women, or did women relaxing in the sun get frightened off and immediately set sail for Greece? Hmmm..makes you wonder, doesn’t it? And this also brings up the burning question that is relevant to all cultures in all countries..why is it always the unattractive people who lie out in the nude???

"I am special not slow" (F)

I know this may be a surprise, but I do actually work between all of my travels. Trying to live a jet-setter lifestyle without the millions or a rich husband means I have to earn it. I pretty much spent my time from October through March in a hotel in Basel, a town about an hour train ride outside of Zürich, working long hours, which not only cut into my social life, but also my German classes. And while I have now since mastered the just “smile and nod” approach and how to endure a long lunch or dinner with co-workers or social events in silence (I think sometimes people just make the assumption that you are that weird socially awkward girl), it is extremely frustrating to not be able to understand or communicate.

As such, in May, I took 2 weeks off of work to attend an intensive German language course in Münich, Germany. I was put in a class with 2 other students, a guy from Sweden and another from Poland, whose ADD was even worse than mine, and we were immediately pegged as the “trouble-makers” in class, cracking jokes and fighting all the time. Considering the fact that my German is about at the level of a five-year old, I found it amusing how you actually start to act like it (but we are all kids at heart anyway).

Given the fact that the students were from all over the world and we were there to learn German, our common language was therefore German. We spent the whole day together, and most of our meals. Looking back I have to laugh, as the image of all of us hanging out at restaurants and the Biergartens was probably similar to that of a bunch of retarded kids shouting a strange special language to each other complete with flailing hand gestures, guttural noises, and a mad shaking of the head. But hey, we seemed to make it work. And I have lived through enough embarrassing and humbling moments living in foreign countries, which I prefer to blame on my not understanding the language or customs as opposed to my lack of common sense, to not really mind being “special” all that much.

Don't Ever Go to IKEA By Yourself (SS)

This is a really depressing moment for single people, well anyone to be honest.

After selling everything I own in SF and finally finding an apartment (4 months later), which contained absolutely nothing, not even lights, I had to make the dreaded trek to IKEA alone.

The Swiss only move generally 4 times a year, and I came in on one of the busiest weekends. Home decoration is not my forte, and only 8 hours later, I was at least able to find the necessities; couch, bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers etc. I had no car and asked for these things to be delivered. The guy looked at me and laughed, “You realize this will take over a month to deliver.”

“What? But I have nothing. I need this as soon as possible.”

“Hmm..well, I have this friend….” He picks up the phone, makes a few phone calls, speaking rapidly in Swiss German, turns to me and says, “OK, my friend will take you.” At this point, I am desperate and hey, this is Switzerland.

Heading to the warehouse area, I am armed with a stack of notes, leaflets, and order forms, and begin loading stuff onto the trolley. Struggling with the heavy pieces, I watch enviously as the myriad of young couples cruise by holding hands. It took 2 hours to load a trolley, pay, leave it at customer service and head in for more two more times.

I was very thankful for the friend of the clerk guy as upon my last trip, I found him already loading everything up into the truck. I hopped into the front and off we went to my apartment. He spoke no English, and me at the time (although I am not going to lie, it is still not so great), very little German and so we chatted/mimed a lovely hour long conversation trying to navigate through Zurich rush hour traffic.

I somehow ended up accidentally buying 2 beds, and one too many doors for the wardrobe (still boxed up and leaning up against my bedroom wall), which ended up taking months to put up. This was finally only accomplished with the help of some very patient friends. After numerous more trips to IKEA, a year and a half later, my place is finally “furnished.” Now I need to sell it all and start again. Anyone know someone in London who likes moving stuff looking for a girlfriend?

Bikini Boot Camp (R)

Yes it does truly exist, and Yes, it is a bunch of girls working out in bikinis all day long on the beach. Girls, I highly recommend it, and guys, just in case you might want to check out photos of the beautiful landscape, the website is http://www.amansala.com/. I spent my first week of the new year working out, lying out, and bonding with the other 25 guests (2 hot personal trainers included). I even met another American girl there living in London, who puts my travels to shame, and was able to visit her in London in February. So this now means I officially have 2 friends in London, the other being Loren, who was kind enough to put up with me for a few days while I was doing my interviews and ensure I found my way through the City to the various offices without getting lost. For those of you who know me well, it may be no surprise that I can be a bit of a space cadet at times..shocking, I know. So, just to get the word out and start the networking process, I am looking for an apartment share starting October 1 (or one week beforehand). So any recommendations on areas, websites, or friends living in London who may know of something..let me know!!