A Well Kept Man

Shh! Alli's tired from six days of skiing, don't wake her up (she also managed to get a cold from her dad, for which she is very thankful)! I will provide details of our trip over the next few days, but for now I have to do laundry and clean up the apartment as we have more visitors coming this weekend.

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.

With Alli in the United States, I have resorted to some pretty desperate measures to make sure she is behaving herself. First, I have spies planted all over the Minneapolis-St Paul Metro area with explicit instructions to ensure she does not consume American food while in town. She is only allowed to have pork products, Nutella, and Coca-Cola without ice. Second, I have arranged for her to have the smallest rental car available in America (like a Hyundai or Kia or something) as not to get used to such comfy and spacious automobiles. Third, I will be calling her at random times (scheduled by her, so not really random) to make sure she knows the latest in international fashion trends, and if she isn't there then I will continue calling until she is home (unless I fall asleep before I reach her). Fourth, I have instructed the conference organizers to have a mandatory one hour lunch break where instead of speaking English, everyone is forced to speak in either French, German, Italian, Spanish, or Dutch. I have no doubts this will aid her adjustment back to life in Switzerland, as I wouldn't want her to get to winsome for the States and decide to cut my vacation (I mean sabbatical) short.

Alli is off to the U.S. as of 6:45 am this morning for a week of training in Minneapolis. I am already sad. I have plenty to occupy myself and keep busy, but it will be weird not having anyone to cook for and I will be lonely on my walks. The positive side is that I have the car to myself all week, the negative side is I don't have anyone now to make fun of....we will be meeting up next weekend in Paris for our anniversary (number 5!) so I am looking forward to that. Say hi to her for me if you see her this week, make sure she brings me back a treat or two.

Alli and I went for a walk one evening along the coast en route to dinner. As we were walking we saw a couple and their daughter walking their dog which looked very much like our dog, only with shorter legs and a stockier build. Alli asked what kind of dog it was hoping it was a Wheaten so then she could pretend it was her dog and give it a hug.

The happy Irishman proclaimed it to be a Glen of Imaal Terrier and then regaled us with the origin of this Irish dog breed and it's purpose (hunting badgers). We then told them of our dog and how the two look very much alike. In fact, if you took our dog and just removed about 3/4 of the length of her legs and added about 10 pounds, you'd have their dog. After talking for a bit about dogs he asked us where in the United States we were from.

This is a pet peeve of mine ever since we have arrived...everyone just assumes we are Americans. Don't they realize we are from Switzerland? (Just kidding, I actually find it quite amusing as the two of us apparently represent the USA very well, so I take it as a compliment.) We explain where we are from (Minnesota) to which he replied that he never heard of it. Most people in Europe think the United States consists of New York and Washington D.C. on the East Coast, LA on the West Coast, and if they are truly cultured they know Chicago is somewhere in-between. From what I've gathered they think that you can get from one coast to the other in about a couple hours by car, and that if you don't live in one of the aforementioned cities then you are a cowboy that lives on a farm.

Back to the story...

At this point this Irishman looks at the two of us and begins to gesture wildly. First he points at me and loudly declares "Not you", then switches his pointing to Alli while making a circular motion (apparently encompassing her person in the air) "...but YOU! Have a major portion of Irish in you." At this point I awarded him the Nobel Prize for the discovery of the century...

Seriously, did it require you making fun of the lowly German boy to point out that my lovely wife has freckles, fair skin, and red hair? Either way, Alli was accepted into the clan and I was banished into the sea with the snakes (we didn't see any snakes in Ireland so the legend of St. Patrick must be true).

Alli looked forward to each new encounter with the locals as she was able explain her Irish heritage. After telling them that she was in fact Irish (leaving out the part that she is only 1/8), what her family name was (Reilly), and where they were from (Balbriggan), we would often get the story of the Reilly's from Balbriggan. Irish people KNOW their history and where the people come from (your name tends to indicate where you are from and what your social standing is/was...apparently the Irish don't move around too much), and apparently with Alli's family they were a good family with decent social standing that seem to have mostly left Ireland during the early part of the twentieth century to seek better lives in America. I decided to ask why I didn't look Irish and they replied that my hair and skin were too dark (I think they implied my ability to tan had something to do with it, and/or the fact that I can go out in the sunlight without turning into a lobster), and that my features were more Italian or Spanish (definitely Latin) of some sort. They seemed disappointed to find out I am German, but were happy to know I made a good choice in marrying a redhead. (I didn't inform them of our Protestantism for fear of being thrown into the sea for sure).

We will probably have a very leisurely morning followed by the last minute wrap of all things Dublin that we missed (Trinity College maybe). This will sadly be our last day in Ireland as our flight leaves at noon back to Geneva. I don't know how long it will take us to get our travel photos and adventures posted, but I will do my best to not hold back for too long. We are again on Aer Lingus and taking the train from Geneva to Lausanne, walking from the train station to our apartment. Alli will probably be excited to sleep in her own bed, but not excited about working the next day. Oh, and it is Alli's birthday today so don't forget to send her an email reminding her that she's still older than me.

My day started with taking Alli to work so I could have the car to run errands (which I needed because it was raining). My first start was to get a haircut. As you can tell from the picture, I think everything worked out as best as could be expected. Aside from having to spend 35 CHF (I'm including my 2 CHF for parking in the total) on a ten minute adventure, it was interesting.

I was greeted at the front door by the barber, whom I exchanged Bonjour's with, followed by me asking "Parlez-vous anglais?" (Do you speak English?...this is pretty standard now really as it is easier for the Swiss to speak English than to try and comprehend my version of French.) He then responded by saying "Only a little bit, but if I have a few glasses of wine then I am much better." Judging by the quality of that sentence I was concerned that perhaps he was already through his first bottle of the day, at it wasn't even 10:15 am. Nevertheless, I was committed to getting a haircut so I figured it would be worth the experience. We chit chatted in English for about five minutes, me explaining what I wanted done to my hair (sadly, he didn't think the mohawk and purple dye were good ideas...sorry Abby), and him discussing his upcoming holiday (vacation) to Napoli (Naples), Italy.

He said he was going to go spend a week in September to eat pizza (no joke, that's really why he was going...apparently they make a tasty pie down there). At this point he tells me, "Ok, I speak French now" and begins to discuss things with me (well he was discussing, I was imitating a deer in the headlights). I was able to understand the parts of the conversation when he asked if I understand French, to which I responded "Oui, a little" (that's Frenglish). He responded that I should have said "Un petit peu" (a little bit). So I'm making progress. He asked if I wanted my hair shorter than he currently had trimmed it, to which I responded somewhat appropriately "No, c'est bon" (which is French for 'No, it's good tasting'). He let me in on a secret that 'bon' is for describing the quality of food as in, "Le escargot, c'est bon" (French for 'the snails are tasty'...something I doubt I need to teach Alli). If I want to describe the quality of my haircut, I should use the word 'bien'.

The adventure was successful, and now I feel like "un nouvel homme" (a new man) as he said (which I surprisingly understood). So now that I was properly groomed, I headed over to pick up our resident permits at the equivalent of city hall (which required no speaking whatsoever) and then off to Tolochenaz to experience the world of Medtronic Europe and the magical one hour European lunch.

As much as it pains certain individuals (the redhead) to waste an entire hour sitting down to a hot meal (when there is work to be done, who has time to waste an hour eating), it was quite civilized and delightful. The cafeteria has a head chef and multiple assistant chefs that run around cooking food to order and plating it for you. After securing our food (Alli got a plain cheese/basil/tomato pizza because she can't read the menu to know what else might come on the pizza...I helped her out so next time she can have some variety; I had spicy fried chicken with a spicy sauce, sauteed zucchini, leeks, and rice) we sat down to lunch in the atrium overlooking Lake Geneva and the French Alps (including Mont Blanc which is always covered with snow, hence the Blanc which means white...at least until global warming attacks it and it is known as the Mont that was formerly Blanc). Actually we couldn't see any of this because it was cloudy and rainy, but Alli claims on sunny days you really can see them (sure Alli, I believe you).

Apparently the 'cool' thing to do after you eat is to go and stand around some tables in the "Cafe Espace" (French for Coffee Spaces) and have a coffee, espresso, or tea. Alli seldom does this as she is afraid of the espresso machine (I made that part up...she just doesn't care too much for coffee). I didn't have a clue how the super-automatic machine worked, but due to my keen intellect and engineering degree it was impossible for me to fail. I pushed the button that matched the cup size I selected, which was an espresso cup (which is really tiny for the uninitiated). What I didn't realize was that I pushed the button for a double shot of espresso (instead of a single shot), which is about 2 ounces of liquid and about 100 mg of caffeine. It would take about 4 times as much coffee to get the same amount of caffeine. If you still aren't convinced, I wrote this entire blog in three seconds (I'll be competing in the Olympics on Sunday in Short Track Blogging for those interested)...now I'm all jacked up on caffeine (I also had 3 dl of Coca-Cola with lunch, no ice - but with a lovely lemon because it made me feel special).

I also ran a bunch of trivial errands requiring me to converse in French with city officials and the car rental agency...it's mostly a blur but somehow I have an extra 190 CHF in my wallet and a new rental car contract (we needed to switch the credit card) so I must have done something right (or they paid me to leave and avoid embarrassing myself anymore than I already managed). I am thinking I am due for a huge caffeine crash in about 10 minutes so I apologize in advance if there are grammatical errors in this post, or if it doesn't make any sense at all...