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!!

Swiss Dieting

In Switzerland, lunch is the big meal of the day and is more similar to an American dinner (well, except we don’t eat meat soaked in sauce, french fries (except those people living in the middle America somewhere), and boiled vegetables everyday. But regardless, I simply cannot stomach something like that in the middle of the day and would resolve more often than not to the salad bar, which was a relentless joke amongst my colleagues throughout my time here.

It was a bit uncomfortable when at one project I was the only female of a group of about 10 guys and we resorted to eating as a team everyday, not because we all loved each other after being locked in one big room at the client for 11 hours a day, but mainly due to the fact that we were working in a building with access to the runway at the Zürich airport and so we weren’t allowed to cruise in and out much.

This meant daily trips to the canteen (cafeteria) where all the men ordered their heavy meals, wolfed it down, and topped it off by a shot of sugary concentrated orange juice (seriously, this was their Vitamin C for the day..they actually paid an extra franc for this!).

Of course, 2 bites later, they were done, impatient, and ready to get back to work. Of course, eating a salad is a bit trickier..first, getting it on the fork can be quite difficult, you know those little pieces of lettuce that always slide off or when you just cannot quite stab something and everytime you press down, it slides off to the other side of the plate?

Well, this resulted in about 2 minutes from being seated, every guy staring at me watching me poke at my salad trying to be polite and wait for me to finish. More often than not, I would push it aside and then work in hunger the remainder of the day. I think I would have wasted away if some more girls had not finally later joined the team; our lunch time was suddenly extended.

Doing Paris in Under 24 Hours

While there are a fair amount of Ex-Pats here, it is difficult to find that person that you connect with (although I know this will take time). For New Years Eve I had absolutely no plans and was going to be alone in Zürich as everyone I knew (meaning Kevin and Dave) were on Holiday.

Kevin finally emailed an American girl at the firm whom he had met in his German class and asked what her plans were and if they would not mind another American joining.

Next thing I knew, I had plans to take a 6 hour train ride at 7am from Zürich to Paris New Years Eve Day. I literally met Alex and her friend for the first time as we were boarding the train. We spent our day walking through the Louvre, sitting at cafes, partying all night with no hotel at a private local Parisian club, and then catching the 7am train from Paris to Zürich on New Years Day.

Paris was beautiful and I will definitely have to go back, but next time, perhaps I will spend a bit more time there