Well, I really don't have much to say today. However, my reservations toward the water park were a little much. I did have fun. And you know, when you are at a water park, and everyone is in their swimsuits, a lot (not all) of the self consciousness seems to drift away. You just have to keep telling yourself, they ate just as many Christmas cookies as you, and tomorrow is the last day of the year! All hail the New Years Resolution!
One funny thing that happened today, that might be worth mentioning was my trip around the whirlpool lazy river. Every 15 minutes this "River" turns on. They misnamed it when they called it a river, even more so when they deemed it lazy. This was the quickest moving pool I have ever been in! Plus it was way, way, wayyyy over capacity. You know the saying "packed like sardines?" Multiply that by, eh, I don't know... twenty five or so! We were almost shoulder to shoulder in this narrow pool. And then it happened!
Steven warned me, don't run into this jet forward, put your back against it. This was probably some of the best advice I have received in a long time, seeing that the swimsuit I brought on vacation with me is my five year old green one that fit before my boobs decided to grow again last year. (Yeah, probably TMI, right?) Anyway, not the suit I should have worn to a water park nevermind out side of the privacy of my own home! Guess I lived up to my "Jersey Shore" name: The Rack.
Okay, back to the pool. I turned my back to the jet and let it push me around the pool! We were all squished together; Steven, Me, Kirsten, Stefan, Chris, and Mari. We went around and around about four times when we all came to the consensus that it was way too crowded and we were ready to go home. Now came the tricky part... getting out of the current and to the narrow calm passage to exit the pool.
Pressure was building... could we do it? More so, could I do it? These are all champs I'm with! A gym teacher, a professional athlete, the swiss for crying out loud! Okay, here we go! On the count of three! One... Two... oh no... wait for it... oh no... Three!!! Everyone makes it, but Kirsten and I. Thank you Jesus for leaving my best friend with me. I can just imagine their thoughts if I was the only one stuck in this pool, floating counter clockwise at such an incredible rate that I felt very little hope of ever getting out. (Keep in mind, this is a swimming pool, not the Rhine River.)
After Kirsten and I realized we couldn't get out, and we prepared for another trip around the pool, and when people began to squeeze up against us because it was just oh so crowded, we began to hysterically laugh. Let me define hysterical, it was the kind of laugh that leaves you crying and wheezing at the same time, but because you are in the water with lots of people and jets and bubbles you are at quite a high risk of drowning.
We rounded the corner, and while holding hands, we began to prepare for another attempt at our escape. Our feet are on the ground, sliding as if we are surfing, so there is no hope in trying to stop with our feet. There is one hand rail by the exit, problem is there are about forty-two little kids holding on to it, completely blocking us from the rest of the group, and our way out. Here it comes! Here it comes!
Cue the laughter and the wheezing as we fly past it yet again. And yet again, people are crammed against us. This time we have to be serious, no kidding around. We will push those kids off the hand rail if need be! They will float away so fast it won't matter anyway! We must get out of this pool!
We come around the corner and I see Stefan waiting there with his hand out for Kirsten. Now, I'm thinking this is great, I'm holding her hand, we will be rescued! Then I begin to think, well, what if he can't pull both of us to safety?! I' m going to have to let go. You know, in all those rock climbing movies, there is the one person who cuts the rope to save the other two? Well I guess I'm going to have to be that person!
As we were getting closer, I was preparing for my next trip around the pool alone, when out of no where I see Steven's hand come reaching out for me! He rescued me from Switzerland AGAIN! First from an Alp when I was in third grade and now from a vicious pool that was trying to claim me forever! My hero! I really do think I owe my life to him! Well, I guess the current would have shut off if I had waited four more minutes, but hey, doesn't it sound much cooler to say I was rescued?! In all reality may not owe my life to him, but I definitely owe my lack of pruny, e.t. skin to him!
With that said, I need to get some shut eye. Tomorrow, well, it is actually 12:35 Swiss time right now, so I guess I can say Today is the last day of the year. I have a lot to accomplish, like sleeping, and probably eating more bread. Good night world. Hello 2010.
12.29.2009
I need to stop eating bread and cheese.
December 29
Day Three –
Nothing too exciting to report here today… it was a dreary, cool day that consisted of sleeping in, eating bread for breakfast, pasta for lunch, and rice and veggies for dinner. (With a little shopping in the rain and watching a few movies mixed in there too.) Now, back to the eating… to think I couldn’t figure out why I was having stomach pains! And to wonder how these Europeans stay so thin! What in the world am I doing wrong back home?!
Today they all wanted to go to an indoor water park. (Based on how they pronounce it, I’m thinking it is spelled something like “Albemarle,” you know, like the plantation? But I’m not positive at all.) Anyway, a water park?! Are you freaking kidding me?! I’m slightly self-conscience as it is! I mean, my wii fit informed me the night before I left that I had not exercised with it in 64 days. Or maybe it’s just the American in me, or maybe it’s all those Kiss Cookies I inhaled on December 25th… but to put a swimsuit on right now does not sound appealing to me in the slightest. I got out of it today… but I’m not thinking I will be so lucky tomorrow. Again… I guess I will just embrace it… when in Rome… *sigh*
Oh! We had people over for dinner tonight! I’m getting pretty good at that three-kiss-cheek-thing! Here you kiss each others cheeks three times, you know, back and forth, not the same cheek, when people arrive and when they leave. Tonight was great practice when we had four guests arrive at Kirsten’s apartment. Best part of the evening, they went out of their way to speak English for me. I loved it, because I was involved and knew what was going on around me, but it does make me feel a little bad though… I mean, I’m American… which means I basically know one language and enough of another to get through high school and on to college. I really wish I had mastered another language… either German or Spanish; both would have been highly useful this January.
I lay in bed, looking at the clock on my laptop: 7:36PM (at home) and 1:36AM here. I really should attempt closing my eyes and getting some sleep... gotta get some beauty sleep for that swimsuit tomorrow! Ha!
G'nite friends. I miss you.
Day Three –
Nothing too exciting to report here today… it was a dreary, cool day that consisted of sleeping in, eating bread for breakfast, pasta for lunch, and rice and veggies for dinner. (With a little shopping in the rain and watching a few movies mixed in there too.) Now, back to the eating… to think I couldn’t figure out why I was having stomach pains! And to wonder how these Europeans stay so thin! What in the world am I doing wrong back home?!
Today they all wanted to go to an indoor water park. (Based on how they pronounce it, I’m thinking it is spelled something like “Albemarle,” you know, like the plantation? But I’m not positive at all.) Anyway, a water park?! Are you freaking kidding me?! I’m slightly self-conscience as it is! I mean, my wii fit informed me the night before I left that I had not exercised with it in 64 days. Or maybe it’s just the American in me, or maybe it’s all those Kiss Cookies I inhaled on December 25th… but to put a swimsuit on right now does not sound appealing to me in the slightest. I got out of it today… but I’m not thinking I will be so lucky tomorrow. Again… I guess I will just embrace it… when in Rome… *sigh*
Oh! We had people over for dinner tonight! I’m getting pretty good at that three-kiss-cheek-thing! Here you kiss each others cheeks three times, you know, back and forth, not the same cheek, when people arrive and when they leave. Tonight was great practice when we had four guests arrive at Kirsten’s apartment. Best part of the evening, they went out of their way to speak English for me. I loved it, because I was involved and knew what was going on around me, but it does make me feel a little bad though… I mean, I’m American… which means I basically know one language and enough of another to get through high school and on to college. I really wish I had mastered another language… either German or Spanish; both would have been highly useful this January.
I lay in bed, looking at the clock on my laptop: 7:36PM (at home) and 1:36AM here. I really should attempt closing my eyes and getting some sleep... gotta get some beauty sleep for that swimsuit tomorrow! Ha!
G'nite friends. I miss you.
When in Switerland...
December 28
Day Two-
Let me introduce you to my cousin Chris’ girlfriend. She is from Brazil and professionally plays volleyball for a Swiss team. She is tall. Just as tall as Chris. Which is crazy that Chris would be able to find a girl as tall as he is! It's some kind of miracle! Anyway, Mari (spelling?) and Chris were going to Basil to see the Brazilian volleyball team play a team from Holland, and we decided to tag along.
Kirsten and I arrive at the train station with only about fifteen minutes to get in the ticket line to purchase a group pass to cut across Germany and back into Switzerland. The line was long. And slow. And there is nothing worse than a long and slow line when you are in a hurry. Some how Kirsten sweet talked her way to the front of the line, purchased the ticket and we took off running, only to make it on the train and find seats with just about a minute and a half to spare.
The volleyball game was pretty lopsided in terms of skill level. The Brazilian girls were quite good, although the Dutch team had one girl that when she served the ball, you basically just tried to get out of the way… it was like a bomb was going off in the gym. Anyway, these girls were GIANTS! I mean, HUGE! I have never seen so many tall girls in one place at one time! And to make things even more humorous (to me at least) was that when they were all together, they looked “normal.” I’m no expert on volleyball, so their height kept me much more entertained than their game.
When we got back home we had fondue for dinner. Now, only in Switzerland can you sit around a pot of melted cheese, a bowl of bread, and a few bottles of wine and call it dinner. I have never been a huge fondue fan in the past, but tonight, oh man, it was amazing. Maybe it was all the walking, or maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was just being in Switzerland, but I can’t even begin to tell you how much bread I ate. You know, when in Rome...
Day Two-
Let me introduce you to my cousin Chris’ girlfriend. She is from Brazil and professionally plays volleyball for a Swiss team. She is tall. Just as tall as Chris. Which is crazy that Chris would be able to find a girl as tall as he is! It's some kind of miracle! Anyway, Mari (spelling?) and Chris were going to Basil to see the Brazilian volleyball team play a team from Holland, and we decided to tag along.
Kirsten and I arrive at the train station with only about fifteen minutes to get in the ticket line to purchase a group pass to cut across Germany and back into Switzerland. The line was long. And slow. And there is nothing worse than a long and slow line when you are in a hurry. Some how Kirsten sweet talked her way to the front of the line, purchased the ticket and we took off running, only to make it on the train and find seats with just about a minute and a half to spare.
The volleyball game was pretty lopsided in terms of skill level. The Brazilian girls were quite good, although the Dutch team had one girl that when she served the ball, you basically just tried to get out of the way… it was like a bomb was going off in the gym. Anyway, these girls were GIANTS! I mean, HUGE! I have never seen so many tall girls in one place at one time! And to make things even more humorous (to me at least) was that when they were all together, they looked “normal.” I’m no expert on volleyball, so their height kept me much more entertained than their game.
When we got back home we had fondue for dinner. Now, only in Switzerland can you sit around a pot of melted cheese, a bowl of bread, and a few bottles of wine and call it dinner. I have never been a huge fondue fan in the past, but tonight, oh man, it was amazing. Maybe it was all the walking, or maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was just being in Switzerland, but I can’t even begin to tell you how much bread I ate. You know, when in Rome...
A Jetlag Hangover
December 27
Day One-
They made me go on a "little walk".... ha. I was totally "hung over" with jetlag and of course the Swiss solution is to get outside and get active. Which, don't get me wrong, sounds like a promising solution, but when your head is spinning and 10am their time is 4am my time, I was not really feeling this idea. Add to it, icy paths and crazy dogs, it was just... lovely. Jokes aside, it was a beautiful walk, with a delicious lunch! Probably some of the best soup I’ve had in a while. Yes, almost better than Bakers Crust’s Mushroom and Brie. Their "little walk" ended up being about 4 hours. Towards the end of it Kirsten said "Chris, can't we take that path over there? Won't it be quicker?" His response was classic, “Will it be about twenty minutes?”
Of course I was the only one in the group that caught his reference to my uncle and how he often uses the term “twenty minutes” very, very loosely. Twenty minutes in our family translates to approximately an entire afternoon.
Day One-
They made me go on a "little walk".... ha. I was totally "hung over" with jetlag and of course the Swiss solution is to get outside and get active. Which, don't get me wrong, sounds like a promising solution, but when your head is spinning and 10am their time is 4am my time, I was not really feeling this idea. Add to it, icy paths and crazy dogs, it was just... lovely. Jokes aside, it was a beautiful walk, with a delicious lunch! Probably some of the best soup I’ve had in a while. Yes, almost better than Bakers Crust’s Mushroom and Brie. Their "little walk" ended up being about 4 hours. Towards the end of it Kirsten said "Chris, can't we take that path over there? Won't it be quicker?" His response was classic, “Will it be about twenty minutes?”
Of course I was the only one in the group that caught his reference to my uncle and how he often uses the term “twenty minutes” very, very loosely. Twenty minutes in our family translates to approximately an entire afternoon.
Somewhere over the Atlantic
December 26, 2009
So I’m sitting on a Delta flight, heading to Switzerland for the New Year holiday. Cut me a little slack with the writing in this blog. I’m two-ish hours into the flight, as well as two-ish glasses of red wine into the flight. But let’s be real, with the combination of the druthers of traveling and the altitude, I’m feeling pretty damn spectacular right now! I feel like this is probably the best remedy for jetlag. Get slightly pissed at 7pm American time, which will cause me to pass out shortly after 1am Swiss time... Folks, I’m thinking we have a winner.
So what to talk about…? My day started not too early, but still early enough, this morning. I was awakened by a cute Guy, and informed that it was time to get up! Much to my refusal, I climbed out of bed and proceeded to get ready. The gentleman that he is went downstairs and emptied my dishwasher and started to reload it! I honestly don’t think that I thanked him for this because I was so neurotic this morning, but it really meant a lot. And yeah, I definitely hope to keep him around beyond my typical new year’s curse.
Other than my dishwasher being emptied and my trip to the airport, there wasn’t anything too exciting until I reached Atlanta for my five hour layover. (Thank goodness I’m not on “The Amazing Race” because a five hour layover would just be unheard of!) Anyway, for the first flight I had to gate check my carry on backpack. Now, this is not just any carry on backpack… this is a backpack containing not only my lovely mac, BUT Kirsten’s wedding dress. (Yes, her dress fit into a backpack. Yes, it’s that small. And yes, it will have wrinkles.) After gate checking and saying a silent prayer to Jesus to protect that bag and it’s contents (because let’s be honest, if I showed up in Switzerland without that dress, or a damaged version of that dress, I might as well skip town and never be seen again!) I sat patiently awaiting what was going to happen in Atlanta…
Now, apparently the Atlanta airport is simply trying to keep up with the Jones’ … even though the “old fashion ways” seemed to work just fine. Instead of being handed your gate checked baggage when you exit the plane, they send it to a fancy baggage elevator at the end of the… man, what’s that tunnel from the airport to the plane called? Crap, it totally escapes me right now… but yeah, that tunnel… there is an elevator, specifically for gate checked bags! Yeah, ponder that for a minute.
We were all patiently waiting for our carry-ons when all you could hear were people saying things like “how silly is this?!” or “if they don’t hurry up I’m going to miss my connection!” The tiny, Asian Delta lady finally appeared, wearing her blue and white, obvious airline lady garment, and attempted (keyword: attempted) to punch in her pass code to get the elevator to open. It wasn’t working. And then we had the stereotypical manly men trying to show her how to work it. (Cue the Rocky theme song.) Keep in mind, they were just passengers, who as of 5 minutes prior were all commenting on how they had never seen such a thing! You could tell the poor girl, probably mid thirties or so, was having a horrible day to begin with, and had no clue what to do with all these angry travelers who so desperately wanted their baggage back!
Me, of all people, should have been freaking out. The contents of my 2-10 backpack totaled well over $2500. If anyone should have been pounding on the door and pretending she was Jack Bauer trying to save us from terrorists, while trying her luck on the pass code that she probably needed a thumbprint for, it should’ve been me! How dare these people feel like they had the right to cause a mini-riot and make this woman feel completely insignificant! Long, long, long story short, a larger gentleman who spoke a little English and mostly Hebrew (according to his wife who told me many times that they were about to miss their flight to Colorado, where it was only five degrees this morning) went up and proceeded to bang and pull on the garage-like elevator door like he was going to free prisoners of war in addition to our luggage. All of our luggage was spared with only one casualty...
From my angle all I could see was a black, duffel looking backpack was wedged between the lift and our floor. Goodness, cue the prayers. My thoughts included a few obscenities and many prayers… “Oh shit! It can’t be my bag with the wedding dress! I knew I should have gate checked it! I knew I should have gotten a fake ring and been a bridezilla and forced them to let me take this bag on the plane with me! Dear God, please not my bag! Not the wedding dress!” As I slowly approached the mob, I see my 2-10 logo smiling back at me on the top shelf of the elevator. With a sigh of relief I quickly grabbed the bag and meandered my way up the… (crap! What the name of that tunnel?!) wondering which poor person walking past me was going to miss their next flight because their bag appeared to have taken one for the team.
And that folks, were most interesting parts of my day. There was very little “people watching” done in this airporting adventure. I was shunned to Concourse E in Atlanta at 12 noon. Do you know how few flights leave from the international concourse in the afternoon? You have to wait to at least 3:30 or 4:00 to see sign of life beyond your own and the lady, bored out of her mind, selling magazines. (I went an bought one because I felt bad for her, and maybe because I was in need of human interaction…)
It’s 7:56 American time… time for me to close my eyes along with my laptop and call it a night. I’m only going to be in Switzerland for a week… there’s no time for jetlag.
Signing off as I fly across the Atlantic,
Suz
So I’m sitting on a Delta flight, heading to Switzerland for the New Year holiday. Cut me a little slack with the writing in this blog. I’m two-ish hours into the flight, as well as two-ish glasses of red wine into the flight. But let’s be real, with the combination of the druthers of traveling and the altitude, I’m feeling pretty damn spectacular right now! I feel like this is probably the best remedy for jetlag. Get slightly pissed at 7pm American time, which will cause me to pass out shortly after 1am Swiss time... Folks, I’m thinking we have a winner.
So what to talk about…? My day started not too early, but still early enough, this morning. I was awakened by a cute Guy, and informed that it was time to get up! Much to my refusal, I climbed out of bed and proceeded to get ready. The gentleman that he is went downstairs and emptied my dishwasher and started to reload it! I honestly don’t think that I thanked him for this because I was so neurotic this morning, but it really meant a lot. And yeah, I definitely hope to keep him around beyond my typical new year’s curse.
Other than my dishwasher being emptied and my trip to the airport, there wasn’t anything too exciting until I reached Atlanta for my five hour layover. (Thank goodness I’m not on “The Amazing Race” because a five hour layover would just be unheard of!) Anyway, for the first flight I had to gate check my carry on backpack. Now, this is not just any carry on backpack… this is a backpack containing not only my lovely mac, BUT Kirsten’s wedding dress. (Yes, her dress fit into a backpack. Yes, it’s that small. And yes, it will have wrinkles.) After gate checking and saying a silent prayer to Jesus to protect that bag and it’s contents (because let’s be honest, if I showed up in Switzerland without that dress, or a damaged version of that dress, I might as well skip town and never be seen again!) I sat patiently awaiting what was going to happen in Atlanta…
Now, apparently the Atlanta airport is simply trying to keep up with the Jones’ … even though the “old fashion ways” seemed to work just fine. Instead of being handed your gate checked baggage when you exit the plane, they send it to a fancy baggage elevator at the end of the… man, what’s that tunnel from the airport to the plane called? Crap, it totally escapes me right now… but yeah, that tunnel… there is an elevator, specifically for gate checked bags! Yeah, ponder that for a minute.
We were all patiently waiting for our carry-ons when all you could hear were people saying things like “how silly is this?!” or “if they don’t hurry up I’m going to miss my connection!” The tiny, Asian Delta lady finally appeared, wearing her blue and white, obvious airline lady garment, and attempted (keyword: attempted) to punch in her pass code to get the elevator to open. It wasn’t working. And then we had the stereotypical manly men trying to show her how to work it. (Cue the Rocky theme song.) Keep in mind, they were just passengers, who as of 5 minutes prior were all commenting on how they had never seen such a thing! You could tell the poor girl, probably mid thirties or so, was having a horrible day to begin with, and had no clue what to do with all these angry travelers who so desperately wanted their baggage back!
Me, of all people, should have been freaking out. The contents of my 2-10 backpack totaled well over $2500. If anyone should have been pounding on the door and pretending she was Jack Bauer trying to save us from terrorists, while trying her luck on the pass code that she probably needed a thumbprint for, it should’ve been me! How dare these people feel like they had the right to cause a mini-riot and make this woman feel completely insignificant! Long, long, long story short, a larger gentleman who spoke a little English and mostly Hebrew (according to his wife who told me many times that they were about to miss their flight to Colorado, where it was only five degrees this morning) went up and proceeded to bang and pull on the garage-like elevator door like he was going to free prisoners of war in addition to our luggage. All of our luggage was spared with only one casualty...
From my angle all I could see was a black, duffel looking backpack was wedged between the lift and our floor. Goodness, cue the prayers. My thoughts included a few obscenities and many prayers… “Oh shit! It can’t be my bag with the wedding dress! I knew I should have gate checked it! I knew I should have gotten a fake ring and been a bridezilla and forced them to let me take this bag on the plane with me! Dear God, please not my bag! Not the wedding dress!” As I slowly approached the mob, I see my 2-10 logo smiling back at me on the top shelf of the elevator. With a sigh of relief I quickly grabbed the bag and meandered my way up the… (crap! What the name of that tunnel?!) wondering which poor person walking past me was going to miss their next flight because their bag appeared to have taken one for the team.
And that folks, were most interesting parts of my day. There was very little “people watching” done in this airporting adventure. I was shunned to Concourse E in Atlanta at 12 noon. Do you know how few flights leave from the international concourse in the afternoon? You have to wait to at least 3:30 or 4:00 to see sign of life beyond your own and the lady, bored out of her mind, selling magazines. (I went an bought one because I felt bad for her, and maybe because I was in need of human interaction…)
It’s 7:56 American time… time for me to close my eyes along with my laptop and call it a night. I’m only going to be in Switzerland for a week… there’s no time for jetlag.
Signing off as I fly across the Atlantic,
Suz
Yeah... scratch that...
Well, I'm in Switzerland, and I'm tired, but I still have a delightful case of jetlag so of course I am awake at one o'clock in the morning, wishing upon a star that I was asleep.
Anyway, scratch that last post that I wrote a few months ago. To give myself a little bit of credit I have done a great job at almost everything BUT blogging. To subtract from that credit, I caved and joined Match.com, again. Although, credit should be given where it is due... I am dating someone that I met from the site! Hooray! Let's just hope he puts up with me being gone for most of January... Anyway, back to my whole self absorbed blog and the credit I keep giving to myself. I have been crafting (quite a bit actually), I haven't been wearing my nightguard (due to some crazy dental issues that involved a front tooth replacement with a chicklet), and I have traveled more, which brings me to my current situation... laying on an air mattress in a tiny, dark room in Switzerland.
I finally have some internet connection that I am stealing from somewhere in the world, so I am going to go ahead and post some of my journal entries from the past few days, so just in case you at home, my fellow Americans and loving friends and family, if you are totally bored, I have your solution! You can keep up with me and all my globetrotting.
The next few blog posts are my souvenir of Switerland. (disregard the blog given dates)
Anyway, scratch that last post that I wrote a few months ago. To give myself a little bit of credit I have done a great job at almost everything BUT blogging. To subtract from that credit, I caved and joined Match.com, again. Although, credit should be given where it is due... I am dating someone that I met from the site! Hooray! Let's just hope he puts up with me being gone for most of January... Anyway, back to my whole self absorbed blog and the credit I keep giving to myself. I have been crafting (quite a bit actually), I haven't been wearing my nightguard (due to some crazy dental issues that involved a front tooth replacement with a chicklet), and I have traveled more, which brings me to my current situation... laying on an air mattress in a tiny, dark room in Switzerland.
I finally have some internet connection that I am stealing from somewhere in the world, so I am going to go ahead and post some of my journal entries from the past few days, so just in case you at home, my fellow Americans and loving friends and family, if you are totally bored, I have your solution! You can keep up with me and all my globetrotting.
The next few blog posts are my souvenir of Switerland. (disregard the blog given dates)
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