A Well Kept Man

Merry Christmas from Switzerland!

We are off to the United States (first time on American soil since July 8, unless you count that trip to Costco in England)!  Make an extra tray of ice cubes, make a run to the butcher (any cut will do, but I prefer a nice ribeye), and be ready to speak nothing but English.  You may also want to take away our credit and ATM cards as six months of overpriced goods and services will be met with reckless abandon.  (Maybe you should buy a bunch of Costco stock before we land, I have a feeling they are going to wind up exceeding their 4th Quarter expected earnings.)

This is Lenny.  Lenny is a lion with a zipper pouch on his back for storing things (like Medtronic implantable devices...thanks to Jennifer for allowing us to adopt Lenny from her, you made the right choice!).  Lenny works at Medtronic with Alli, although he recently relocated to the apartment where he doesn't seem to do much except pose for pictures and cause trouble.  Lenny has become the unofficial pet as our dog Hildi is currently living in Michigan with my family (don't worry Hildi, you aren't being replaced).  We aren't really sure what Lenny does for a living, but we assume it is legal (this is called "foreshadowing").

Madrid's Christmas markets were peculiar in the fact that it seemed that every day a new one appeared were there was none the day before. The main market was in the Plaza Mayor, and contained mostly items for Nativity scenes and decorating the house. Unlike Barcelona, Madrid did not have weird traditions such as the Caganer. The crowds were also substantially less, um, crowded.  Various other parts of the city sported artisan Christmas markets (with beeswax candles, trinkets, bowls, etc.), gourmet food, as well as normal items that one might purchase for Christmas. If nothing else, the Madrid Christmas market scene appeared more like a giant farmer's market/craft fair/antique road show spread throughout the plazas and streets. I think the Madrileños were more interested in the national Christmas pastime of Spain....the Christmas Lottery. The most interesting food item was not the hot roasted chestnuts (we've covered them previously, but if you missed the post...stay away from the hot roasted chestnuts) but the roasted sweet corn and grilled sweet potatoes. They were as pervasive as the Serrano hams hanging in the carnicerias (butcher shops).

The Christmas Lottery in Spain, or Sorteo de Navidad or Lotería de Navidad, is one of the biggest lotteries in the entire galaxy (I am fairly confident the Martians and Venusians have rather insignificant lotteries). According to my sources, this lottery started in 1812 as means to alleviate boredom following the Crusades. While the top payout is no larger than a traditional lottery (with top prizes in the millions of Euros), the total pool of money is well into the billions of euros (that's a lot of churros!)!!

Every day as I walked around Madrid, hundreds of people would be lined up around the booths selling the tickets. I counted one line with well over 200 people, and the lines seemed to be there all day. Reporters were interviewing the various citizens trying to figure out what they would do with their winnings, and while it wasn't easy for me to understand everything they were saying it seemed that most planned on buying a retirement home in The Villages. (I really don't know what they were going to buy, I made that last part up to see if Alli's Aunt and Uncle really do read this blog as often as they say they do.)

The lottery is fairly complex but there are multiple prizes so instead of one person winning the billion dollar pool, many people share the prizes. It's kind of like socialism for lotteries if that makes sense. I recommend going out onto the internet to find out the specifics of the lottery. Madrid's general Christmas feel seems mostly to center around the Christmas Lottery, with the whole baby Jesus thing coming secondary. Especially this year due to the World-Wide Economic issues I think more people are investing (foolishly) in lottery tickets. Sure, some will win big, but for most it will merely be a waste of good money. (I'll go put away my soapbox now).

The Barcelona Christmas Market, or Fira de Santa Llúcia was one of the best markets I have been to thus far. The ambiance and atmosphere truly made it an exceptional marketplace. The streets of Barcelona were packed with people looking for the perfect items for their Nativity scenes. The biggest difference with this particular Christmas market was the lack of trinkets and knick-knacks. Instead of going to a store like Target or Christmas-Decorations-R-Us, the Catalans (aka people living in and around Barcelona) shop at these Christmas markets to find the perfect baby Jesus, as well as goats, sheep, Wise Guys, and the lot. One could find anything from a very North African scene, to the barn-like Nativity most of us are used to.

While Alli was off in Dusseldorf, Germany for two days, I decided to drive up to Luzern, Switzerland for the evening to check out their Christmas market. Luzern is about a two hour drive from our apartment, so I decided it was a nice afternoon/evening trip to keep me occupied while Alli was away. After driving the two hours to get there, I immediately went over to the area of the Luzern Christmas market. After spending about twenty minutes trying to determine if I was in the right location (I was), I decided that this was the absolute worst Christmas market I have ever encountered. It was in the train station, and was really quite disappointing. Perhaps there was another in the city streets somewhere, but the forty to fifty booths failed to meet my expectations. So much so that I decided that no pictures should be taken, and that the evening must be reclaimed for other purposes.

I apologize for the lack of posting...I was in Spain and then Germany for the last week without access to the computer.  I will promptly get my act together and blog at least every day this week until Saturday, when we travel back to the U.S.  At that point I hope to blog sporadically while in Minnesota and Michigan.

Alli and I are out of town for the next five days.  America gets Alli, Spain gets Mark.  I will be in Barcelona Sunday through Tuesday afternoon, then Madrid from Tuesday evening through Thursday evening.  If needed, Alli will be at her mom's in Minnesota. (sorry, no website link for her mom...)

Since I am such a nice, accommodating, and gracious husband, I allowed my wife to leave for a couple days a week or so ago (for work related purposes).  She went to Brussels, Belgium.  I slept in later than I normally do.

Does anyone else find this amusing?


At least Christ gets top billing; although I don't think I'd go into business with a Schmuck, but that's just me. (This is actually a jewelry store in Luzern/Lucerne, Swizterland. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the actual Jesus Christ...now if you'll excuse me I'm off to dodge lightning bolts and plagues).

In many countries across Europe, the Christmas season is marked by Christmas Markets. They have various names and origins, but they all have one thing in common (Christmas). I will try to pass along photos, stories, experiences as best I can over the next few weeks as we (or I) travel to various markets in and around Switzerland. The first example is the Christmas market in Montreux, Switzerland called Marché de Noël (Market of Christmas).

I seem to write dates now DD/MM/YY instead of MM/DD/YY (e.g. I write June 2, 2008 as 2/6/08 instead of 6/2/08). Which isn't a big deal, just an observance (I used to think Alli's sister was trying too hard to be cool when she did this after living in Germany for a year, now I realize it just became a habit). I now think it looks funny when written the other way.

I also don't miss ice in my drinks, and don't mind if ketchup is absent for my fries.

Please don't worry though, I promise I won't purchase a purse or capri-style pants.

Please examine the following receipt.


Done? Good. Now do the math conversion to get it into your base currency (1 CHF = $0.83 USD, $1 USD = 3.67 UAE dirhams). Done? Good. Some of you may think, wow, we are pretentious, snobby food aficionados so we must have partaken in the most extravagant Thanksgiving feast ever. You would be incorrect. I would like to now show you in picture form (complete with snarky play-by-play) what we consumed on Thanksgiving in Switzerland (note: all pictures of alcohol have been removed to make this posting suitable for those under the legal drinking age in their jurisdiction...or because I forgot to take pictures of them). Now please examine the photos below to judge how well we spent our money (and by our money I mean Alli's).

As you can see, we were treated to a lovely cup of New England clam chowder. With subtle hints of tarragon and creamy undernotes, the six spoonfuls surely stoked my tastebuds for what would surely be a momentus Thanksgiving feast. We knew we were in for a treat when the bowl of oyster crackers was placed on the table, as we were told these came from Target (that's right, The Target in Minneapolis). As soon as we had finished this first course of what appeared to be only one of potentially fifty, I eagerly awaited the next plate. Would it be a round of foie gras paté, or perhaps a lovely plate of white truffle risotto? Unfortunately this guessing game went on for about ten minutes as we waited and waited for the next plate.


For the facilitation of describing the plate, I will start at 12 o'clock. Please note the ample white space on the plate, this was apparently intentional as the food is not allowed to touch for fear of cross-contaminating flavors. (Editor's note: Did anybody in America's plate look like this on Thanksgiving? No? That's what I thought. In my mind, Thanksgiving is all about how much you can cram on a plate at a time, because once that stomach fills up, you may have trouble getting up from the table without popping a button off your Levi's Snug Fit Jeans into Aunt Ruthie's eye...) Back to the plate, at 12 o'clock you seen a spoonful of a dark mass. After spending five minutes debating what it could possibly be, I opted to break the stalemate and taste it. It turned out to be "stuffing." (Yea, the stuffing that comes in a pig while it's still living, also known as sausage.) It had a very subtle spice flavor to it, with the consistency of dry grits. This was voted least favorite of everything (it won by a landslide).

The item at 2 o'clock is pretty much self evident, corn-on-the-third-of-a-cob. I am convinced corn is the most expensive commodity here in Switzerland. At the grocery store corn averages about 2 CHF per ear, which I guess is why all the cows eat grass (Kobe beef they are not!!). The corn was boiled (way too long) and then seared over a hot grill (bad idea). It tasted like they made it yesterday, forgot about it in the pot, remembered it and figured grilling it would fix it. Oh well. 3 o'clock to 4 o'clock was the cranberry dish. Served bubbling hot, it actually was fairly tasty. My kudos to the chef for balancing the tartness of the cranberries with the sweetness of sugar...or whatever.

The starring attraction is featured at 6 o'clock (and meandering between 5 and 8-ish). The turkey was very moist, and extremely flavorful. Obviously this guy has roasted a bird or two. No real complaints here except for the funny presentation (which you can't really see. Each person's turkey was topped with a piece of turkey skin, I guess to prevent it from drying out though since the turkey was neither deep-fried nor grilled, nobody decided it was worth the extra 736 calories). Finally taking us home at 9 o'clock is exactly one third of one carrot sliced bilaterally (in half, top to bottom...I think, I just wanted to use the word "bilaterally"). Main course done.



The dessert was eagerly anticipated, but quickly dissapointed. This pie was definitely pumpkin flavored, but seemed more like eating a dense sponge soaked in pumpkin essence baked in a flaky pie crust (that somebody burnt). The toasted almonds were a nice touch to compliment the super tasty cinnamony-almond ice cream. Feeling charitable I gave the chocolate straw to my wife (I figured I should help assuage the feelings of her Thanksgiving didn't live up to expectations).

So finally tally, five glasses of wine between the two of us, two cups of soup, two plates of food, and two desserts. That works out to roughly 15 CHF per glass of wine, 10 CHF per cup of soup, 65 CHF for the main course (8 CHF scoop of sausage, 10 CHF corn coblet, 5 CHF ladle of cranberry, 30 CHF for 4 oz of turkey with gravy (skin garnish 2 CHF), & 10 CHF piece of carrot)and 35 CHF per piece of pie.

At the end of the day, I will say that we are thankful that we had a nice meal to eat (considering many have much less than us) and shared some great company. Next Thanksgiving, I am sure we will go overboard just to make up for this year. Enjoy your Christmas shopping America...I'm off to find something to eat (I can't figure out why I'm still hungry).

Tonight, we will join a multitude of displaced Americans at a local Pizzeria to celebrate Thanksgiving. I am not quite sure what to expect other than the absence of our family and friends. I have been informed that it will contain turkey and all of the trimmings, but I will bring my camera just in case to document any unfortunate misunderstandings of the types of food which are acceptable at the Thanksgiving table. I don't hold high hopes for pumpkin pie, apple pie, or any other kind of pie (pie doesn't seem to be a favorite of Europe), nor do I expect to see the standard canned cranberry which so easily slides out of the can and onto a plate for slicing (this, Alli will be thankful for...me, not so much).

Regardless of the meal I have much to be thankful for this year. Although I wish I could see all of our families and friends to share this holiday in person, I am thankful that we are able to celebrate this holiday with you if only in spirit. I am thankful I won't be subject to watching the Lions lose for the sixth Thanksgiving in a row, and I am thankful for not having to arbitrate who has to wash the dishes after dinner (I say, if you cooked anything you are off dish duty...this includes opening the can of cranberry and putting it on a plate). I am also thankful for the internet as I won't have to wake up at 4 am to go wrestle the last Nintendo Wii away from some kid on crutches (you know who you are Timmy), and instead can do my shopping online from the comfort of my couch (actually, everyone is getting Swiss chocolate and pocket knives, I got a good deal from a cow in the Alps).

I am thankful for a supportive wife who has blessed me with the opportunity to refocus on what is important in my life, and giving me the chance to travel to places I've never imagined. I am thankful for ice cubes, affordable cuts of meat, college football (not soccer!), Costco, friends that speak English, Lutherans, my dog, and the ability to communicate electronically or over the phone with our family back home. I am thankful we are in a neutral country that doesn't appear to be the target of hostility towards Americans (aside from the contempt of not speaking perfect French), as well as for the knowledge that the U.S.A. is the best place on Earth to live!

In all seriousness, I am thankful for my wife, my family, my friends, as well as the great fortune I've had in life. I have been able to experience so much and yet there is so much more to see and do. I pray that God will continue to bless me and my family (and friends) with His love, and that those who don't know this love will feel it someday. I am thankful for all of the gifts I have been given, and I am thankful that I have been able to share some of this experience in Switzerland with all of you out there on the internet.

So when you are loosening your belt a couple notches later today, and after you've woken up from your deep fried turkey with gravy, stuffing, cranberry, bean casserole, yam, pumpkin pie, Diet Coke (I am aware of the irony) coma; think of the two lonely Americans sitting in a Pizzeria in Switzerland and be thankful you don't have to try and describe to a waiter in French that you would like plain tap water, not the pricey bottled water, but you don't want to have to keep asking for refills (and would it kill them to put more than two ice cubes in the glass)...and give thanks!

Here are two examples of why life can be very exciting at the grocery store in Switzerland. The first example is a carton of eggs. Aside from the obvious failure of quality control (hint: the white eggs are missing spots, duh!), there is also a chicken feather (at least that's what I hope it is) in the box. Also, did you know that eggs are not in the refrigerated section? They are located on a shelf in the middle of the store (at room temperature), right next to the milk (which is also at room temperature). I suppose if it comes hot from the source then what is the harm in letting it stay warm, right? Either way, both the eggs and the milk make it into our fridge once at home.


I like to call the second example "Fractal Food" (this is probably a bit advanced for my elementary through middle school audiences, but would probably be a great extra credit exercise). I don't really know what it is, although it was next to the broccoli and cauliflower, so it is probably a nerdy cousin of the two (it is called a Romanseco). I will most likely blanch it, and if it tastes gross, cover it with melted cheese (hey, it worked when I was a kid).

I figured out how to watch The Game here in Switzerland on the internet. Needless to say I am feeling very proud of my geekiness. The feed is choppy, but I am happy nonetheless being in Switzerland watching a game played a few thousand miles away.

Go Bucks!

I was trying to learn me some French, when I came across an example of a teacher instructing her pupils. The French word for "pupils" (as in rugrat students) is "élèves". Why is this funny? Because I always wondered why Santa had elves at the North Pole, now I know why. Santa is French. That also explains the whole "Noel" aspect of Christmas (Noel of course being French for Christmas). Leave it to a overweight Frenchman to figure out how to take 364 days a year off, obviously enjoying the finer foods of life, then forcing millions of children to leave him more delicacies which he exchanges for gifts.

It is possible that I am incorrect and that Santa is not French. This would then leave one to assume that the Keebler Elves and Snap, Crackle, & Pop are in fact French; this would explain the whole cooking/baking thing.

Alli and I spent a weekend (two weeks ago now) in Colmar, France with our neighbors from Minnesota (Katie the wife/mom/volunteer/Martha Stewart/ice cream + candy dealer/friend/superwoman & Tom the dentist/Wii champion/ice cream + candy consumer/father/friend/fishin' + golf buddy). The town of Colmar is very quaint and decidedly German, even though it is in France. Perhaps it is the proximity to the German border that gives the flavor to this region, but eventually the French side wins out as evidenced by our baguette sandwiches and pomme frites (fries). This area is also in the Alsace region, which is known for tasty wine and other delicacies such as foie gras and Baeckehoffe (think crock pot roast with vegetables, sauerkraut, and wine).

The region is also home to the man who brought the Statue of Liberty to the United States (in fact, there is a scale replica in a roundabout that offers a surreal experience of thinking you are approaching New York city, until you quickly realize that New York city is approached by water not a traffic circle...oh well). The town itself (as well as neighboring towns) was fun for catching up with our friends, window shopping, and grabbing some snacks (mmm....macaroons). On Sunday morning (after staying up past all of our bedtimes to have Alli show us all how to play cribbage while sharing a bottle of Alsatian wine with macaroons) we went on a hike up into the forest to an old castle that appears to have been long since abandoned.

The last few leaves of fall still managed to cling to the trees providing a scenic backdrop for our adventure. Along the way I took plenty of opportunities to snap photos and play like a kid climbing rocks and hanging from "cliffs." The hike passed through the forest for about forty-five minutes until we reached the castle (halfway up required us to ditch our outer layers as the hike was very sweat inducing...thankfully, the clothes were still in our secret spot on the way back down) for our adventure.

The castle itself looked like it would be a great home for many woodland creatures, or fairytale trolls and goblins. Although none were seen, I truly believe that something was up there staying just out of sight as we climbed the castle walls and ramparts. I even managed to scare an unsuspecting dog as we both approached a doorway from opposite directions (let's just say the dog didn't expect to see someone in the doorway...he couldn't decide if he should attack, run away, or just roll over and let me pounce. I had to give him the secret dog owner handshake to restore his confidence that I was neither a predator nor prey, but merely a friend).

I also took the opportunity to snap some pictures, but mostly I just enjoyed the scenic expanses, sights, and smells of autumn...and trolls.

Today was the day to shake the rust off, or in my case, knock it off with a hard fall....repeatedly.

We decided to go skiing this afternoon down in Verbier, one of the better ski resorts in Switzerland. After making the drive down (about an hour and a quarter), we got in line to buy our lift tickets. In Europe, you don't get the sticker passes that you hook to the outside of your ski coat, instead you get an RFID card about the size of a credit card. You load your lift ticket onto the card and at each lift/gondola/funicular you just swipe your pass and you're good to go.

The views were spectacular, even when all I could see was a spray of snow (that I was enveloped in). The temperature was a steamy 0 C (32 F), but it felt like it was about 10 C (50 F) in the sun. Apparently every one else in Switzerland had the same idea as it was super busy, but it was still fun. The resort itself starts out at around 1500 meters (just shy of a mile above sea level), and climbs to a bit over 3300 meters (just over two miles). As you can tell from my sweet camera phone pictures, there was ample snow where we skied (although most of it was man made...but hey, it's mid November and I'm skiing, so I won't complain).

We skied for about three and a half hours (with Alli's coworker Jen, who lives in Verbier) stopped for lunch somewhere in the middle, and then had a quick cup of tea at Jen's chalet before heading back home to rest our sore muscles (I am told the pain will subside soon...ibuprofen is my friend!)! Anyway, we hope that you all come play with us on the slopes if you get a chance; we are spoiled and would love to share this scenery with the rest of you.

My only disclaimer is that despite the appearance of an orderly Europe (one where all rules are aboded by, and never a cross glance or word is directed at a passerby), all bets are off once in the lift lines. You'd think there was a contest to see how fast you could get back on the chair-lift or something...I had fifty year old women pushing me out of the way, kids and adults alike stomping on my skis just to get ahead in line. Europeans amuse me in that they are very attentive to all rules of acceptable social behavior, but when it comes to ski lift lines and escalators they have no concept of personal space. If nothing else it is endearing, and shows that we are all human. (Oh yeah, and there aren't any trees this high up...Alli has the sunburn to prove it!)

A coworker of Alli's was describing an area to the west of Lausanne which used to serve as a military fortification during the Second World War to impede the progress of the Germans across Europe. He indicated that it isn't very easy to find, but if one looks hard enough you can find it. As my darling wife is not present (due to business travel), I vowed that I would locate this former defensive line near the town of Gland (sounds like lawn, as in Glawn...never mind).
After doing my preliminary research on the internet I was able to locate the area using global positioning coordinates and Jane, my trusty guide. My first stop was the Toblerone line, a roughly 10 km stretch of concrete barriers jutting out from the ground. In case you are wondering, yes, they are named after the candy. They wind through farmer's fields and are mostly covered by vegetation today...apparently they are deemed an eyesore to the cows so the farmers let trees and shrubs grow around them as to avoid conflict.

The real reason I came to check this out (aside from needing to get out of the apartment) is the building in this picture. This 'Villa Rose' doesn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it's right next to the road so you can't miss it. Now, to the untrained eye this building looks just like any other building here in Switzerland. In fact, I went looking for this building about a month ago and never found it (I actually drove by it about six times, it's that ordinary). But this time I managed to find my target.

Now folks may wonder what is so special about this building. At the risk of boring you with a lame guessing game, I'll just tell you. Before I do I encourage you to look at the closeup of the window. See anything weird? Those with a keen eye will notice that the curtains are painted! In fact, there is no window. This building was a secret military building that housed soldiers from the Swiss military. It housed some machine guns as well as soldiers who would camp out here for months at a time during the war. The walls are 2.5 meters thick (that's 8 feet!!) and there's even a hole in the bathroom wall for lobbing a grenade on unsuspecting intruders.

Unfortunately visitors are not allowed to tour the building, but I was at least able to snap a picture or two before being chased away by a black van (just kidding, they don't use vans in Europe). There is a second building approximately 400 meters away from this one, but it was on private property so I was unable to get close enough to get a decent photo. Either way, it was kind of fun to hunt down this unique Swiss secret.

Alli is in Brussels for 36 hours, so I am going to see how much trouble I can get into...and by trouble I mean I am going to sit around the apartment for 36 hours and whine about being alone. On the positive side I can stay up as late as I want.

I guess I should have read the label closer. My beer, La Fin du Mond (the End of the World) was neither Swiss nor French (the label was definitely written in French, so you could understand my confusion). I figured my celebration should include a beer that speaks the same language as I managed to master for five minutes.

Unfortunately, there are other countries that speak French that I failed to remember. It was Canadian. Mark doesn't like Canuck beer. I would describe this beer as tasting of a hockey skate with the aroma of wet moose fur (although the alcohol content was a frosty 9% by volume...I guess the Canadians need a reason to drink it). Perhaps it is labeled The End of the World because you would only drink this beer if in fact, it was the end of the world. As in, "the only way I'd ever drink this beer again is if the world was ending, and my consumption of this beer would save civilization." Only then will this beer ever touch my lips again.

I will report back when I have found a worthy victory beer. I imagine it will be from a non-French speaking country...

My life tends to be fairly uneventful these days (if you put aside all of the exciting adventures I have on the weekends), so any little form of getting out of the house and accomplishing something helps make for a great day. Take today for instance; I didn't really have big plans or anything so a typical Monday. However, three weeks ago Alli decided to purchase a new pillow (oreiller) as she has grown tired (pun intended) of her current head cushioning device. As one can probably guess, this pillow was deemed unfit (I tried it as well...too poofy) and placed by the front door for me to return at my earliest convenience.

So for the past few weeks I have endured the fear of walking up into town to the magasin (store) where the pillow was purchased in effort to beg for a refund. Those who follow this blog know that this was not my first attempt at returning an undesired item. Although successful the first time, I required a UN interpreter and umpteen signatures from various store personnel to get my money back. So you can imagine how excited I was to be able to take back the pillow (I would have been happy to take the CHF 30 loss and say "Lesson Learned" but being on a budget, my darling wife told me I could either take back the pillow or forego the new underwear I was hoping to get for Christmas).

Today was the day I finally worked up the courage to go attempt a return. Unfortunately, my interpreter at the electronics store would not come home with me for future use (plus, he probably would require care and feeding which I was not prepared to provide) so I knew I would be on my own. As I entered the store I felt my heart begin to speed up a bit as I began the trek up to the 5th floor (really the 6th, but that's Europe for you). After reaching the 5th floor I quickly made my way to the counter where an employee was helping a nice British couple with their return. Success was imminent, I could feel it. Except that it wasn't...as I stood behind them waiting another employee approached me to offer help. I figured that I needed to immerse myself in the culture and face my fear, rather than chicken out and rely on my crutch of English (plus, she was cute and I figured she would take pity on me).

And so the dance began...

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Bonjour Madame! (Hello lady, you are foxy...maybe if this doesn't work out we can go have some French Fries and share a Diet Coke)

Bonjour Monsieur. Comment est-ce que je peux vous aider? (Hello creepy American dude who speaks French horribly. How can I help you?)

Parles vouz anglais? (Do you speak English, because that would make things much easier. Plus, all of my best pick up lines are in English and I don't know if they will be as effective in French.)

Non. (No, why don't you leave before I have to call the police and have you deported back to America.)

(Sensing things going extremely well, I figured I would press my luck and try and get my money back anyway.)

Je voudrais rapporter ceci. (I would like to return this.)

Rapporter? (Wow, you knowmore than six French words...)

Oui. (Yes...at least I assume I should agree with you now)

Ok. Voici que vous allez, signez ici. (Ok, please sign this slip here so we can compare it against our database to make sure you aren't the type of person who returns hair dryers and pillows, then records the activities in a blog. Ok, you check out. Here is your money back, now leave before I change my mind)

Merci, au revoir. (Thanks, Goodbye, let's do this again sometime. Maybe I'll just start buying stuff and bringing it back to work on my French as I finally had what some might describe as a conversation. This is cause for celebration.)
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As you can tell, I am stoked that I did something useful. As a reward, I purchased a celebratory beer. I will report back on the quality of the celebratory beer once I have had ample time to savor my success.

Alli and I are heading up to the Alsace region of France this weekend to meet up with our neighbors who live in Germany (Katie & Tom). We will be staying in Colmar on Saturday night, and return on Sunday evening. It should be a fun getaway as we haven't really traveled anywhere significant in the past few weeks (hence the lack of blogging adventures).

We did manage to have some excitement last week in the form of a spa day (sorry, no pictures...that would not be helpful for anyone involved). The area immediately to the south of us contains many natural mineral springs that for centuries have provided relaxation, rejuvenation, and comfort for countless Europeans. (link to the spa, actually baths at Les Bains de Lavey) Alli thought it would be fun to go check one of them out, with me kicking and screaming along the way. After all, guys don't do this sort of thing.

It cost 24 CHF per person to get in (math quiz: I paid for two of us to go. Given that it is 24 CHF per person, and we spent 3 hours at the spa, what was our combined cost per hour in CHF? Hint, division and multiplication are necessary to solve this problem, although multiplication can be eliminated if you are too lazy and replaced with addition) which granted us free reign of the place for three hours. The first clue we were not in America was the European locker room.

No gender separation.

You enter the locker room through a small changing booth with a door on either side...it took a few seconds to figure this out as I went through into the locker room where everyone was magically in bathing suits and towels. So back into the "dressing room" where I quickly changed into my Speedo (just kidding, I am still an American...it was a normal bathing suit that went down to my knees...Alli also changed, although I could hear her concern as she worried someone would surely barge into her one square meter "dressing room") and proceeded into the locker portion of the locker room.

We quickly stowed our belongings and headed upstairs to the pools. Before entering the pools, you had to enter the shower area. This was separated guys and girls (naturally). Except clue number two that we were in Europe and not America was the fact that you could see everything going on in either shower area from the opposite side. Apparently Europe has a strict "look but don't touch" policy when it comes to window shopping.

Once inside the spa was divided into a few distinct areas. The first was an indoor pool that played classical music and whale sounds...but you can only hear said sounds if you stuck your head under water. Pretty cool idea until the water seeps into your ear canal and refuses to come back out. We checked this area out briefly later in the day but weren't too impressed. From the inside you could enter one of two outdoor pools, both heated (although one was much warmer than the other). One pool seemed to be reserved for swimming and getting away from the teenagers that plagued the other, larger pool. The larger pool contained multiple fountains where one could stand and be pelted with varying spray effects (for massage purposes I presume). The larger pool also had a circular area in the middle which contained a literal whirlpool.

This whirlpool reminded me of the times when I was a kid and I found myself in a circular above ground pool. My friends and I would often march in a line around the edge of the pool (in the water) to create a current going in one direction. After a period of time if done effectively, the pool would have a current strong enough that if you turned opposite the current and attempted to swim you would get nowhere fast. So in the pool here we just decided to ride the current. It was kind of fun, despite all the rugrats that we kept running into.

The edge of the large pool was dedicated to the hot tubs and bubble activities of the spa. There were underwater platforms where you could lay down and have cascading jets massage the length of your body, as well as calmer areas where the temperature and bubbling activity resembled what I would think of when describing a jacuzzi. After spending ample time in the water, and having the shriveled skin to prove it, we decided to try out the non-pool parts of the spa.

They had three indoor areas, a Nordic Spa, an Oriental Spa, and a Senses Spa (I almost wrote Sensual Spa, but I think that would have taken people's minds in the wrong direction). We first tried out the Nordic Spa, which contained three saunas. One was mixed couples, mandatory bathing suits, and 50% humidity with a temperature of around 50 C. We lasted about 10 minutes before leaving and me jumping into the cold plunge pool (about 5-10 C). The second was again mixed couples, mandatory suits, same temp but 75% humidity (we passed). The third was segregated men and women, au naturel, and I don't know the rest because we quit reading when we saw "au naturel." They also had a polar room which we entered that was at 0 C, with snow and ice on the floor. It didn't seem that cold, but I would guess after a few minutes probably would.

We then checked out the Senses Spa and found that it was a 1.5 hour journey through the senses of light, temperature, smells, sounds, touch, etc. so we decided to pass as the next scheduled journey was an hour away and we knew we didn't have the time. At this point we went over to the Oriental Spa which contained various steam baths. We passed on the various ones which again were "au naturel" (it's tough being prudes from America), and opted only for the Turkish hammam which had 100% humidity, was in the complete dark, and felt like it was well over 50 C. You could barely breathe due to the intense heat/steam. Every breath made me feel asthmatic, and thus we lasted about two or three minutes before bailing out.

The spa was an interesting experience, not soon forgot. I don't imagine we will go back to this one, but there are others in nearby towns that are supposedly much nicer and varied so perhaps we'll check those out after a tough day on the slopes this winter. In the meantime, I will try not to have any more adventures that conjure images of me in a tight fitting bathing suit.

It appears my ability to predict the outcome of Presidential elections is laced with unbridled optimism that is based in my deep rooted desire to see the best in things. Hopefully, things won't change too much in America as I really want to come back.

CNN analyst looks like a midget, outlined in white. Hologram also apparently causes your hair to turn blue around the edges. I am now waiting for Scotty to beam the analyst back to Chicago. I would pay money for Wolf Blitzer to walk over and pretend smite her with a light sabre. Can you tell it's late here? I'm starting to go delirious...

Tomorrow is a big day, a HUGE day! I realize that not everyone shares the same opinion and passion for politics as I do, but voting is one of the most basic, fundamental things that separates us from the animals (have you ever watched lions decide who gets to be in charge of the lady lions? Watch the Lion King and tell me that they're civilized).

Most of you out there know already know who you are going to vote for (maybe you already have voted, like me), but perhaps you haven't made up your mind. There is obviously a lot of information out there but as I am well-versed at using the internet as a power tool, I would recommend if you haven't figured it out then you should focus a couple hours on the internet this evening researching the candidates. (Stick to official campaign websites for candidates stances on issues...if you are looking for other things, just do a Google search on your topic of choice as they will most likely direct you to the most salient information.)

Please don't make uniformed choices..take thirty minutes to go check out the candidates. I'll forgive you if you can't quite make up your mind for District 3 Soil and Water Conservation Commissioner, but you should at least be able to make an intelligent decision based on your own research and thinking. Oprah is not qualified to tell you what to do, Rush Limbaugh is not either. You are the only person who knows what is best for you and your family, but you better make sure you know what you are choosing before you pull the level, or punch the card, or fill in the oval, or whatever way your town chooses to record votes.

If you need help figuring things out, this is a good place to start:
http://www.selectsmart.com/president/2008.html

I'll be watching things from over here, don't be surprised if you get a phone call late at night tomorrow as I will be waking up to what could be a very interesting November 5th.