Graffiti Walk

Something I've noticed about Europe is that graffiti enjoys a very different status within the culture than it does in the US. Whereas in the US, graffiti is generally something frowned upon, to be cleaned off an afflicted building immediately, and generally located in less-than-savory areas of town or signaling the presence of crime, European graffiti seems to be a point of pride. It doesn't get painted over quickly (if ever), and it can be found in abundance in any location. There are even some spots specially reserved for artists to come practice their spraying art.

As expected, many sprayers are angsty teenage boys searching for an outlet, some advertising anarchy or other political messages, but sometimes the art is cute, sweet, or even poetic. Here's a collection of some of my favorite, most noteworthy small graffiti works I've seen over the past few months. (My favorite one, due to its striking contrast, was mentioned in an earlier post.)

Oerlikon Nord train station

Choose Your Leader

Not graffiti, but nonetheless interesting building; I like to think it's home to anarchist squatters

"She's My Baby" in Verona. See if you can spot it!

Zurich tram

Stuttgart artist, photographing his work

"The rock of truth and the water of righteousness form life for eternity." outside Zurich

Though I don't have a picture of it, one of the most inspirational graffiti works that I often think back on is painted on a sidewalk on Euclid Avenue in Berkeley. It's a simple, blue, stenciled-looking work with a picture of a small tree branch with leaves on it and the message "breathe, you are alive."

Stop and Stare

No sooner had I stepped through Customs in the Zurich airport when I felt the renewed presence of the Staring. Having been in the UK for 2 weeks, I had mostly flown under the radar in crowds, never feeling like I was being scrutinized and examined by strangers. But once back in my Swiss train station, I could feel the eyes following me. Granted, at the time I looked like I was traveling in from Scandinavia, comparing my backpack, jeans, and two jacket layers to the Daisy Dukes and spaghetti strap camisole a nearby girl eating an ice cream cone was wearing. However, I quickly adjusted my wardrobe to the weather here (which feels simply tropical compared to Inverness, Scotland), and the staring continues days later.

Contrary to some belief, it's not just young guys staring. In fact, in terms of gender, staring seems to be an equal-opportunity profession. Sometimes it's older people, no doubt checking out the younger generation and shaking their head sadly as they think back fondly on the Good Ol' Days of their youth; if they hear me speak English and they're particularly right-wing, maybe they even harbor some ill-will towards me and all the other foreigners who've flocked to Switzerland in recent years. Sometimes those staring are young, and the most off-putting things is that I'm not quite sure why they're staring. When I feel the heat of so many eyes on me, I don't know if it's good attention or bad attention, so I go through a quick checklist: do I have on pants? A shirt? .. Yes on both counts? Well, that's pretty much the whole checklist, so I remain stumped.

Other English and American expats in Switzerland have noted this baffling phenomenon as well and offered different theories about it, but I guess regardless of the reasons behind being stared at, good or bad, we should just enjoy the attention... and maybe practice making faces at people and freaking out the Starers.

In the Shadow of the Matterhorn

Words can't really do justice to the Matterhorn. It's simply striking and even somewhat creepy at night when its dark outline is still visible against the twilight sky. Pictures can't fully do it justice either, but that doesn't mean I didn't try by taking about 50 pictures of the Matterhorn in its different phases of cloud cover.

Zermatt is mostly closed between the winter and summer seasons; it's very bizarre seeing a town full of grand 5 star hotels and restaurants that are simply closed down for the next 2 months. Unfortunately, it's still very snowy on the mountain peaks, so the hiking trails to the Schwarzsee and Hoernli Hut (base station where the mountaineers start their climb) were closed off, which was quite disappointing. On the other hand, it was great not to have the town and paths swarming with tourists, so I guess it was a fair tradeoff.

There's a graveyard outside the main church dedicated to those who have died on the surrounding mountains. Most of them were male and between the ages of 17 and 27 (surprise, surprise). Of course, maybe they made the initial mistake of trying Gusti's Viper poison in the village of Zmutt.

Also, only in Switzerland will you be on a tough uphill Wanderweg hiking path and suddenly run into a mom pushing a stroller with 2 kids alongside her.

... Where We Lay Our Scene

The rumors are true: trains traveling between Switzerland and Italy really do break down the second they reach the Italian border. Possible scenario for the commuter returning to Switzerland after a week's trip in Italy: your replacement Italian train will show up 20 minutes late, covered in graffiti, and with no working air conditioning. Since Switzerland is so keen on keeping its trains running according to a tight schedule, that super-late train you're on might be required elsewhere, so instead of taking you to your promised final destination, you get dumped off at Arth-Goldau and are expected to wind your way back to Zurich via Zug (the place) and Zug (train). Actual experiences may differ.

Speaking of "differing," never trust Kayak to show you an accurate depiction of the location of a hotel you're booking. I accidentally ended up staying in a 4-star hotel about 10 kilometers southwest of Verona in a little town called Azzano, which incidentally has a pizzeria with the best 4-cheese pizza I've ever tasted as well as some mafia-looking houses surrounded by razor wire. Getting from Azzano to Verona and vice versa was easily accomplished with the Verona area bus system, but the only catch is that the stop names are neither announced nor shown on the electronic signboards (which are forever plastered with the message "Buon viaggio"), so you have to do a little homework beforehand to know when you should expect your stop. (You can ask the busdriver, but he might drop you off about a mile away from where you actually wanted to go.)

I was a little worried that Verona would end up being pretty lame, but I really enjoyed it. Verona has a nice mix of tourists and locals. As it's home to the renowned Shakespeare play, most of the school children and tourists swarmed over to the Casa di Giulietta, but it was easy enough to avoid that location. The Torre dei Lamberti belltower provides a great view over the city and has the added bonus that you can go deaf on either of two different platforms within it when the clocks strikes noon! Neary by the Torre is the Piazza delle Erbe, which is a nice place to stroll through when it's not overcrowded for lunch.

Across the river is the Teatro Romano, perched on the hillside, which also provides a nice view over the city and houses the old theatre ruins and sculptures. The only real disappointment in Verona was that all the churches charge money for admission. Having seen lots of awe-inspiring cathedrals in Bavaria and Austria for free, I couldn't find it in my heart to cough up money to go into the Sant'Anastasia or the Duomo. Plus, there were plenty of interesting sights to see outside, like this artsy lump of locks on a bridge.

The Arrival of Spring and Foraging Adventures

The weather has warmed up, the sun is out, and it's clear that Spring is here to stay in Zurich. The first hints started popping up a few weeks ago in the form of cheerful little purple and yellow flowers in almost every patch of grass, city-wide; it looked like the Flower Fairy had come around and sprinkled seeds everywhere. (I haven't entirely ruled out the possibility that Zurich does in fact have official Seed Sprinkling night workers.)

Every year, I always get excited for the arrival of Spring; it's warm, sunny, and beautiful! Life is great! Yay! But then, every time without fail, I'm reminded why it's actually my least favorite season. One word: bugs. They're everywhere, in the air, on the patio, on your leg, and the worst part? There's no escape. At least not until the weather changes, be it for the hotter or the colder.

Most recently, lots of dandelions have been popping up, and since dandelions are both easy to identify and [allegedly] highly nutritious, I got really excited about the idea of foraging my own. So one day, I collected a handful of dandelion greens and a few blossoms from a nearby field (possibly owned by a local university and/or grazed by cows), washed them enough times to make someone with OCD proud, and cooked them as part of a pasta sauce.

A word of advice: don't do this. If you absolutely must eat dandelion greens, then you should HIGHLY consider blanching them first, as they're very bitter and gross if you don't. Doesn't matter if you sautee them with onions and cheese or anything else, just blanch them first, trust me. My experiment might have deterred me from dandelions.. for the moment. But I'm still trying to learn about edible plants, and I think the next up might be lavender. Stay tuned!

Geneva, Geneve.. Genf

The German name for Geneva sort of conveys my impression of Geneva... Genf. It's not that there's anything wrong with Geneva in particular; in fact, it looks like a regular modern European city (think Munich). It's just that it doesn't match the expectations I had for it.

Since Geneva is home to the UN as well as dozens upon dozens of international organizations, I was expecting the city center to be abuzz with diplomats and embassies. However, it turns out the United Nations buildings are actually located a good bus ride away from the city center, and as the complex was closed to tourists on a Sunday, all I could see was a row of flags and a nice mural on its external wall.

Downtown Geneva has a few nice attractions, including the Jet d'Eau water fountain, some sort of inflatable Kraken coming out of a nearby fountain, and a flower clock.

And of course, like any good European city, it has a renowned cathedral: in this case, the Sainte Pierre, located in the heart of the Altstadt (Old Town).

The Saint Pierre is a fairly standard European cathedral, the main attraction being its colorful attached Chapel of the Macabees. Despite its somewhat stark appearance, the main hall did have a unique, funky-looking W-shaped set of organ pipes.

And also a pretty great dragon duck statue.

Confession

After 6 months in Switzerland, I still can't figure out whether to open doors via pushing or pulling.

Can you tell for the above picture? (In case you're wondering, the answer is "push".) The hinge is sometimes hidden, and the door jamb is nonexistent. Fortunately, I know I'm not alone in this problem, based on anecdotal evidence from some of my Swiss and European colleagues and friends as well as the prevalence of labeling on the doors themselves. My question is, why would such an awful design get put into such widespread use?? (Undoubtedly, it arose through the decisions of many committees and put many people into employment.)

Supposedly doors in Switzerland (or at least in my lab) are designed to allow quick departure from a building in case of emergency, which gives a quick-and-dirty method of determining the door direction. It isn't always correct, but it's a starting point if you find yourself at an unlabeled door.

Of course, being in Europe, even labels can't be a simple matter. High German and Swiss German use different types of "push" verbs for their doors! "Pull" is the same in both (ziehen), but High German uses "druecken," which means to push or press, while Swiss German insists that you "stossen" the door, a word for which LEO offers the following suggestions: to butt, to bump, to jab, to poke. Such violence in going through doors! I guess it's representative of the frustration one feels after attempting to pull open the door and then realizing it requires pushing instead (with people watching you all the while, naturally).

The Little Things

When people ask me what I think of Switzerland and I answer that there are both things I like and dislike, the obvious follow-up question is, which things do I dislike. I usually struggle to find the right words here, opting for something generic like "lots of little, minor inconveniences," but now I have a concrete example of something I find totally illogical about living in Switzerland.

Garbage collection. More specifically, the garbage collection process. Allow me to elaborate.

Rule 1: In order to put trash into the dumpsters, you must use only the specially designated "Zueri Saecke," Zurich-approved trash bags, which are naturally more expensive than other types. Okay, maybe the extra cost helps pay for garbage collection, recycling, alternative energy, etc., and maybe the bag is biodegradable or something. Grumble grumble. Read on for the recycling rules.

Rule 2: Recycling must be a complicated, complex, involved activity. No San Francisco-style separate-it-for-you here. Additionally, you MUST recycle. Okay, you don't have to, BUT. Sometimes the waste workers will randomly search through trash, and woe be to the person who included recyclables in their trash, as the workers will go to extreme lengths to figure out whodunnit.

Rule 3a: You must take your own glass and aluminum to recycle collection points, and only during approved times, so Sundays and anything past 7pm are out. Once there, sort the glass by color. This rule isn't that big of a deal, as there are many drop-off locations, and they're not too far of a walk.
Rule 3b: You must take PET plastic bottles to special drop-off centers that, from what I can tell, are only located within grocery stores. I still don't understand this one.

Rule 4a: Paper is picked up once every two weeks. You must leave it on the sidewalk before 7am, and it MUST be in a neat bundle, held together with twine, and tied with a bow. The recycle workers used to be more lax about the bundle rule and would let you just put it all by the curb in a paper bag, but now they simply won't pick it up if it doesn't have that bow. As far as I know, there is nowhere you can drop your paper off manually, so if you don't comply with the bow-tying, well, sorry friend, you have no choice. See Rule 2.
Rule 4b: Cardboard is picked up once a month. Follow the same rules as paper, but don't you dare mix the two together.

Switzerland doesn't appear to do compost. Apparently they just take all their trash and burn it for energy. With all the other separations they make you do, I don't understand why they don't make you sort out compost too, although I guess it's a combination of not having space to deal with compost and not needing it since they have cows everywhere.

A Most Horrifying Discovery

I'm planning on putting up a post with pictures from my Christmas vacation in Germany soon (and pictures from Salzburg...). It's been almost 2 weeks since I've been back in Zurich, but I've been a little preoccupied. The apartment has been thrown into turmoil for the better part of the last two weeks because we discovered a huge, terrifyingly bushy patch of dark grey mold on one of the bedroom walls, sneakily hiding behind a wardrobe. That room was subsequently closed off and soaked in various chemicals and alcohol for a few days, with the living room becoming the new holding place for, well, everything. I think I'm still in a little bit of shock over the experience, as I never would've guessed this clean little Swiss apartment had such evil humidity lurking within. But expect pictures soon (of nice places, not of the mold).

2 Things

Firstly, snow! And lots of it!

Over the past 2 or 3 weeks, there have been a handful of days in which it snowed. The first big snow we got was a couple inches and actually messed up the bus and train schedules (the bus schedules royally, and the trains only a smidge). Earlier this week we just got a dusting, though definitely enough to close schools in Chattanooga. Last night it snowed a lot more, though, so we're back up to a few inches, with temperatures well-below freezing to keep it around a bit.

Secondly, cooking! Super-sweet stuff from scratch!

I wanted to expose the European heathens to a traditional batch of homemade Christmas candy, including peanut butter fudge, chocolate-dipped pretzels, and divinity. However, if you know anything about candy making, you'll realize this list holds a serious problem for me: about half of the ingredients for these candies simply don't exist in Europe.

So in addition to the final products, which remain to be seen, I've already gone about making some of the basic ingredients, namely, peanut butter, "corn syrup" (or super-saturated sugar syrup), and marshmallow creme. It sounds like a lot of work, but really I'm the winner in this situation, because the marshmallow creme is fantastic.

Sennentuntschi

Last night I saw the movie Sennentuntschi, and then I didn't want to fall asleep. There is talk of it being released in an English subtitled version, possibly under the name "Killer Doll" or "Thank God There Are Subtitles Because this Movie is Entirely in Swiss German." I, of course, was not so fortunate to have subtitles, but knowing a little German helped immensely, though I had to have a few gaps explained to me after the movie.

This movie is supposedly Switzerland's first real entry onto the horror movie scene, but what it really is is messed up, and some of the imagery near the end is particularly creepy, burning itself into your brain. As the movie focuses on some killings that take place in a nice little village in the Alps, many Swiss were worried that tourism would suffer after the movie came out, but I doubt the movie will be that popular worldwide.

As for the movie theater experience itself, it was fairly standard, with plenty of overpriced popcorn and a small, cozy theater. Americans, take note: if you ever find yourself attending a movie in Switzerland, you have an assigned seat, theatre-style, none of this "pick a seat, willy-nilly" nonsense.

Before going to the movie, I got to see a little bit of Zurich's Christmas market (the third of it that's inside the train station, because it was really freaking cold). There are tons of little stands there selling everything from hats and candles to spiced wine and sausages. Also, there's a pretty tree covered in Swarovski crystal decorations. Yes, every one of those little dots hanging from the tree is a Swarovski.

The Ugliest Hilton in the World

... lies in Basel, Switzerland.

Getting to Basel (or Bal / Baal, as the French Swiss call it) is not a particularly scenic trip, unless you like craptastic views of industrial towns, quarries, and nuclear power plant towers. Once I arrived in Basel... things still didn't look much better; the sunshine and "warm" weather I'd been expecting had failed to materialize, and my day in the city was grey, cold, and damp. But once you manage to get past all that, Basel actually has a few cool offerings.

Most important, there is this little creperie tucked away off a main road in the Old Town area. It's a little hole-in-the-wall type of place, but Swiss style, meaning it has lots of cute, cozy seating inside, eclectic decorations on the walls, and paper plates to serve their very delicious crepes.

Post-crepe, it's easy to stumble upon the Rathaus (city hall), which happens to be very red and covered with murals and golden statues, and the Muenster church, both within the Old Town section.


If you're lucky, not only will the Muenster provide you with a break from the grossness of Basel, but it will also have organs playing and choirs singing in some of the little chapels as you stroll through and imagine you're a monk. (That's what you're supposed to do when you walk through churches and cathedrals, right?)

Couple these sites with two museums (Cartoon & Comics Museum and the Tinguely Museum, which was crazy and awesome and very bizarre all in one) and I filled a whole day there, with no time left to cross between the borders of Switzerland, France, and Germany that meet on the northern section of the Rhein river. Overall a nice trip, but Basel isn't winning any beauty contests in my book.

Of Castles and B.B. Kings

Two weekends ago, as I was in the grip of the European Tonsillitis of Doom, I took the time to go infect other locations in Switzerland, namely, Luzern. Normally I would be all too happy to nurse a sore throat by lying in bed with some soup all Saturday long, but this particular weekend was special. It was the start of the highly-respected Luzern Blues Festival, and the entrance to the first night's show was free. When you combine those two phrases ("blues music" and "FREE!!!!!"), there's no keeping me away.

So Simon and I took the train to Kussnacht and hiked 3 or 4 hours along the lake to Luzern. Kussnacht to me embodies all the elements of what makes a town Swiss: a lake, mountains, rolling green hills dotted by a few houses, a bus station, and of course, happy Swiss cows.


Along the way was a castle with a vineyard, rather closed for the season but still impressive to look at.

Once in Luzern, we met up with friends for Thai food (cheap by Swiss standards at merely $20 an entree) and headed to the show at the Schweizerhof hotel. The show ended up being far from free once you included the cost of beverages from the bar, but the venue was lovely, and while the music wasn't B.B. King (or Kim Massie, for that matter), it was a good show with an actual blues band imported straight from the U.S. Though I'm not sure what they were thinking when they played that polka..

Becoming "Culturally Aware"

How many times have you used the phrase, "I'm hungry enough to eat a horse"? Well, this week in the IBM ZRL cafeteria, you had that chance. On the menu was horse, or Pferdesteak. While a few members of my group were quite pleased with their equine lunch (served with a side of fries), others found the idea less than appealing; this polarization wasn't confined to specific countries, with people from different places and backgrounds chiming in for different sides. Even among the Swiss IBMers there were different attitudes towards eating horse.

While I personally find the idea of eating Secretariat rather horrendous, I also acknowledge that part of my revulsion is based on American cultural taboo that differentiates a foal from lamb or veal. The whole situation made me think back to a different lunchtime discussion about being "culturally aware," a term IBM had coined in its sensitivity training but that was jokingly turned around to mean that if you find something offensive or unlikeable, you must not be "culturally aware" enough.

Then I reflected on things I've found surprising or unlikeable while in Switzerland. A surprising thing is that Swiss friends kiss on the cheeks when meeting or leaving one another. Not to be outdone by the French, they take it to the extreme, with 3 alternating-cheek kisses. This fact wasn't particularly unlikeable, merely very surprising to a "hugs-only" American. Other surprises include blatant nudity in the evening papers and on television, which in the US would be covered by a black censor bar or just banned entirely.

Then there is the less desirable eating of foals, and funnily enough, a matter related to swing dancing. Apparently in Switzerland, it's expected that one dances at least 2 dances in a row with a single partner before moving on. Bailing out after the first dance generally implies that the dance was just terrible. For so many reasons, I dislike this unwritten requirement, though I'm at least aware of its existence now.

So I guess I will remain blissfully "culturally unaware" about things like horse meat and "required-dances" swing dancing, but if that's what bothers me most about Switzerland, I'd say things are going pretty well. So how culturally aware are you? Would you eat a horse?

A Little Taste of Home

Prepare yourself for a shocking and controversial statement: Nutella is not a suitable substitute for peanut butter.

I know, I know, you might say, "Just because it's made with a different nut doesn't make it inferior. You're just a dirty anti-hazelnut American!" .. and any part of that may well be true. However, I'm not a Peanut-Supremacist; far from it, in fact. I openly embrace nut butters of all types, particularly of the almond-variety, and quite frankly, I didn't even think peanuts were all that great in the first place. But that doesn't change the fact that an entire jar of Nutella contains less protein than a single Snickers bar.

One need only take a look at the nutrition facts on a jar of Nutella to see that it is far from a real nut butter. The first ingredient is.. sugar. Followed by plant oil, cocoa, and finally hazelnuts. Don't get me wrong; I'm not being anti-Nutella here. On the contrary, I think this ingredient list qualifies it as a fabulous breakfast topping for toast. (Keep in mind that this is coming from a girl whose breakfast of choice is, unapologetically, an Eggo topped with chocolate chips.)

Needless to say, the lack of good nut butters in Zurich is somewhat of a death-blow to vegetarians. Sure, they have Barney's Best, which is apparently like the German version of Skippy, but I was hoping for something a little more fresh-ground and a little less sugar and oil-filled. So yeseterday, stuck at home sick, I decided to make some peanut butter from scratch. Turns out this process isn't so hard, especially if you have modern conveniences like nut crackers and food processors. Sadly, I possess neither, but it's still a pretty easy process.

So I went through the grueling process of shelling my pre-roasted peanuts until I could shell no more, which was disappointingly short. Then I used a crappy hand-blender (that only works during the half of the time it's not sparking) to grind and mix them, to delicious though poorly-photographing results. (Seriously, the pictures of it on my phone just kinda look like throw-up, so I'm not gonna post them.) With a spoonful of honey mixed in, this peanut butter might just be my food of choice for the next few days straight.

Not Mad, Just Disappointed. And Maybe a Little Mad.

Disregard everything I've said about the trains running on time.

Okay, maybe not everything... maybe not even most of it. But when it comes to morning buses, don't give yourself a mere 5-minute connection time to make your train from the bus. Twice this week my bus has just refused to show up, or possibly showed up at the time the next one was supposed to come. In any case, it starts the morning off badly for me.

My first late bus incident got me to the local train station about 3 minutes after my train left, which meant I needed to find a different route. I ended up in the Hauptbahnhof (Zurich main station) and had to walk 10 minutes across the entire length of the station to make my next connection. That train's arrival into Rueschklion doesn't coincide with the bus that goes up to IBM, so I walked up the hill that morning.

Today when my bus didn't show, I went back inside and waited for [one bus eariler than] the next one that would put me on the proper train. Unfortunately, all the free papers get cleaned out of the trains before the time I was on it today, so my commute was sans reading material.

Just fantastic, Zurich. Anymore behvior like this, and you might just put your buses on par with AC Transit. (Okay, that's a little harsh. But seriously, stop it.)

Hello, Sunshine!

The sun decided to make a brief-yet-appreciated appearance Monday morning after three days of Vitamin-D-less grey. The free (read: trashy) papers report daily on the hours of sunshine expected in different regions of the country, and over the weekend it was "0-2 hours" EVERYWHERE in Switzerland, even my beloved Bern. To be fair, Switzerland's a pretty small place, so it's sort of like saying that all of North Carolina is cloudy. Apparently I can expect a lot more of the same over the next few months. No more Berkeley-style "grey in the morning, sun in the afternoon"; it's Zurich-style "grey all the time," even in my office down south in Rueschlikon. Today is another exception; however, the temperature is just above freezing, so the bright sun just confuses me.



On the up-side, it's already begun to snow in the higher altitudes, and with temperatures already dropping below freezing this week, I'm hoping for a pre-Halloween snow! For some reason it seems like IBM still has the A/C running sometimes, and sometimes one of my officemates opens the window for a while, but no worries: I can keep my feet warm on my laptop's power brick. (Believe it or not, having a different three-prong plug design for every European country doesn't actually improve the electronic's power consumption. Shocking, I know.)

But due to the turn-for-the-crappy of the weather, I've started taking the bus up the hill to IBM from the Rueschlikon train station some mornings, especially on days like today when I've been duped by the sunshine into dressing for warm autumn weather. The bus stop sports a bright, colorful glass waiting area, and today's sunshine really brings out the best in it.

Fitting In And Standing Out

There are a lot of things you have to get used to when you first show up in Switzerland. First, expect to hear a variety of languages spoken around you. Second, realize that most of these languages you thought you were hearing are just heavily-accented German or English. Third, don't be too shocked when the trains and buses arrive on time. Fourth, be prepared to see a lot of cows within the city limits, each with its own little bell around its neck. Fifth, avoid eating out too much because you'll be very disappointed with the quality of food for the price you paid.

I'm adjusting to Swiss life fairly easily in many ways. I have a monthly train pass and a Swiss bank account (current balance: zero Swiss Francs), and I've bought more bread and cheese in the past 3 weeks than I had in 6 months in the States. Unlike some other trips I've taken, I definitely look like I could be a native Swiss person, in both appearance and dress.

Unfortunately, this false impression often initially leads people to speak Swiss German to me, which immediately gives me away. Not being able to speak the language here is a big hindrance for me, and while I can get by with English in most places, it would be nice to go to the supermarket and not be scared that the cashier will stray from the typical checkout discussion pattern. If you don't want me to understand spoken German, you need only speak at a normal-to-fast speed or toss in some big words.

With that said, I can read and understand simple German fairly well, and I get to work on my reading skills with the 2 free daily papers that get distributed on the trains. Despite all the practice, I've still managed a humorous screw-up: instead of using dish soap to wash my first set of dishes (by hand, of course), I accidentally used polish. Oh yeah, and they weren't my dishes, they were Simon's dishes.

It actually says that it's for the "care and cleaning of dishes," so can you really blame me? Other than the fact that it was clearly manufactured in, say, the 1970s. I'm just hoping the chemicals in it didn't become toxic after breaking down thirty years later...

Of course, some things are just easy to understand, especially when accompanied by visual clues such as the "Anarchy A" symbol. ("Against the Fuzz and Prisons") Thank heavens these little sprayers used High German for their graffiti.

In Memoriam...

I received the call Monday night that my grandma had died. While her health has been up and down for nearly the past decade, and even more so in the past 8 months, her death was very sudden and unexpected, caused by a sudden onset of problems nobody could have foreseen. It's gonna take a while to sink in.

She was the Keys family matriarch, and her death marks the end of an era, as well as the start of many changes. There won't be a funeral or memorial service for her, so here's my little offering of memorial for Barbara Keys, Player of Card Games, Writer of Letters, Baker of the World's Best Cherry Pies, and the strongest-willed woman I know.

I found this flower on the ground on my walk home from work Monday, freshly cut from someone's garden. I hope she would have liked it.

IBM: Day Zero

Why Day Zero and not Day One, you might ask? Well, buildings in Europe apparently follow the same numbering scheme used by many computer programming languages, in that the first element is always numbered zero. So the ground floor becomes the zero-eth floor, the next floor is the first floor, and so on.

I started at IBM Research Zurich today. My commute takes just under an hour each way, which is kind of a pain, though not too terrible in that it's via the trains. While one might think that a long commute by train is a God-awful way to start a morning, one might change their mind in Switzerland, where by the magic of the Swiss, the trains just aren't loud, even in the smoke-filled main train station, the Hauptbahnhof.


After arriving, I learned that my would-be manager has moved to China, and my new manager is currently out of town. So I met with three other members of my group (none of whom are Swiss) to discuss my upcoming project. More details on that as it opens up.


Apparently in Switzerland (and all of Europe, I'm told), it's a law that every office must have windows, or for jobs in which windows are undesirable (think dark room work, meat freezers, etc.), workers must be given access to windows or outdoors during the day. What that means for me is that I get a desk in a big office (once populated by 10 grad students, now by merely 5) with an entire wall of windows. The view is nothing spectacular, but it sure beats no window at all.