You don't bring me flowers anymore

Right in our neighborhood there is a field where you can go and pick flowers (Gretchen and I refer to it as the blumenpicken). It's all on the honor system--prices are posted and you just leave money for whatever you take. I have no idea if it's privately owned or run by the community, but it's a great idea. The only downside is that if someone asks why you don't bring flowers home, you can't use the excuse that the shops were all closed.

Two versions and I still don't know what they're saying

This has been one of those weekends where I've had MTV on in the background quite a bit and I've been confused because I keep hearing the same song over and over again, but by two different artists. It's called "Dragostea Din Tei", and a little sleuthing on MTV's website revealed that two different versions of the same song--one by Haiducii and the other by O-Zone--are in the top 10 in both Germany and Switzerland. It's very Euro and quite catchy--I wouldn't be surprised to hear it at the Bulgarian bar in NYC.

(Then, to further complicate matters--not to mention raise the quality of intelligent discourse--there are also two versions of "F**k It", the original by Eamon and what is evidently a response by Frankee, whom I can only assume is his ex. And no, neither version gets bleeped out.)

The evildoers won't mess with him

Is there not something just a little disturbing about this? I mean, it's not exactly shocking or anything, but still. Do you suppose he has the appropriate permits?

And on Tuesday, a plague of locusts

According to mybasel.ch, this is what it's supposed to look like tomorrow; it would appear the Apocalypse is in the forecast:

Kinda like Slovenia and Slovakia

When I was in Wisconsin a couple of weeks ago, one of the neighbors walked by and asked about Gretchen's mom and when she found out I was Gretchen's husband she said "oh, so you must be here from Sweden then." Maybe it's my Nordic heritage, but I never had that hard a time figuring out the difference between Switzerland and Sweden--the former is smack-dab in the middle of Europe, and the latter is way up north. Go figure.

Lazy Sunday

One of the nice things about Sunday mornings here (other than listening to the birds sing and the church bells chime) is reading the International Herald Tribune. At home, we got both the Washington Post and New York Times on Sunday morning, which is roughly 12 pounds worth of newspaper when you throw in the ads and magazines. As much as I always loved reading them, there was almost a weird sort of pressure to get through them--like, I know it's a beautiful day outside, but let me just read the Week in Review and Travel sections first! I typically pick up the IHT--which basically is a condensed NY Times with a few more international articles thrown in--on Saturday (I don't read it during the week), and on Sunday can just drink my coffee and skim the 20-30 pages and not feel pressure to spend the entire day reading (added bonus: the Sunday NY Times crossword puzzle, which I clip and save to kill time on international flights).

Anyway, that was a long way of getting to a few interesting articles: first a couple of opinion pieces, one on how U.S. policies are causing many foreign students to look elsewhere to study (so many people I meet have studied at least briefly in the U.S., and regardless of what they think about U.S. politics and foreign policy, the experience typically gave them a good feeling for the U.S. as a place and as a people, and I fear we may lose that in the future), and another on how one way to deny responsibility for what happened at Abu Ghraib is to simply blame American (or rather, liberal) culture instead. Finally, efforts to get expats to vote, primarily against Bush, and, lest this whole post becomes too political, something that hits close to home...people who blog too much.

Nekkid men on my television

No, that has nothing to do with the more laissez-faire European attitude toward nudity (although every now and again late at night there are nekkid women on my television). I know The Boondocks isn't to everyone's taste, but this week's series on Iraq and "nekkid men on my television" has been quite amusing. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday.

Oops

One of the big events coming up is the Euro 2004 football (soccer) tournament in Portugal. There's plenty of memorabilia to be purchased, so when I was out today I thought maybe I could pick up a Norway jersey, but I couldn't find one. Switzerland, Spain, France, Italy--plenty of those, but no Norway. Perhaps a reflection of anti-Norwegianism run rampant? Then I realised, maybe I can't find a jersey because they didn't qualify for the tournament (which has to be especially galling since both Sweden and Denmark qualified). I wonder how you say "duh" in German?

Predictable? Me?

This morning I stopped at our neighborhood bakery (where they speak no German so we do lots of pointing and pantomiming) to get bread for the weekend. I went over to the pastries and the woman seemed to say (in German) "we don't have any apfelkrapfen [like an apple turnover] today". How did she know that's what I was looking for? I'm shocked, shocked I tell you, that my tastes would be so predictable. What if I wasn't looking for an apfelkrapfen but was looking for a schoggiweggli instead? Huh? What about that? Just because I used to eat two cinnamon raisin bagels for breakfast every single workday back in the States doesn't make me predictable, does it? (OK, so maybe I really was looking for an apfelkrapfen.)

Life in the not-so-big city

I went downtown both yesterday and today, and it reminded me why I like living here. Basel may not be New York or London or Paris (heck, it's not even Freiburg or Colmar), but it does have its own energy. Today is one of those days where its 75 degrees, clear blue sky, light breeze, no humidity (kind of like California, only German-speaking), so I went walking around downtown and it seemed like everyone was out walking around, shopping, eating at outdoor cafes, etc. Saturdays tend to be that way even when the weather is lousy because the city shuts down on Sunday, but on a warm day like today it seems like more people than usual are out and about.



The thing is, I've fallen into a bad habit since Gretchen has been home: I've become a typically lazy American who relies way too much on my car. When we first moved here I rarely drove--only when we went to dinner at the Sports Club or if we went out of town. With Gretchen being gone, I drive to and from work so I can get home to walk Grady, and it's made me lazy. I rarely go downtown anymore because--heaven forbid--I might have to wait 10 whole minutes for the tram, and who has time for that? I live in a city with an excellent transportation system, yet I find myself going places where I can drive instead (if you ever saw the underappreciated movie L.A. Story, there's a scene where Steve Martin's character gets in his car to drive to the house next door--I'm not quite that bad, but close). So with the weather getting nicer, I'm bound and determined to break that habit...

Hey y'all!

This morning when I was walking Grady through the field, a beautiful golden retriever came trotting up right behind him. I said to his owner "mein ist nicht so freundlich" (which I hope means "mine isn't so friendly") and I was taken aback when he responded with a Southern accent, "why don't you just let him off his leash?" I guess I shouldn't be too surprised since I think a lot of expats live in our neighborhood, but it was still unexpected. Of course, it also made me realise my German must be really bad if an American hears it and immediately can tell I speak English instead of German.

Gute Reise!

Our friend Dave leaves today for Europe. He was supposed to come visit us in Basel and spend time traveling with Gretchen, but since she is still in Wisconsin with her mom and I have work commitments, he is unfortunately going to have to skip Switzerland and hit the beach instead (tough life). So we're bummed we won't have our first visitor from the States as originally planned, but we wish him a great trip nonetheless...

Sidebar

I think I finally figured out why the sidebar (with who we are, what we're reading, etc.) is showing up at the bottom of the blog instead of along the side where it should be--the pictures I'm posting are too big. So I either have to figure out how to shrink the pictures or live with the screwy sidebar. While this is a three-day weekend (Whit Monday, which I think is Pentecost, which as a Christian I'm always a bit embarrassed that I can't really explain) and I theoretically have time to work on it, I think I'd prefer not to spend the whole time indoors trying to tweak photo sizes.

(Speaking of reading, I'm currently reading The Piano Tuner by Daniel Mason and Gretchen is reading Funny in Farsi by Firoozeh Dumas, both of which we're enjoying.)

Latest Top 10

According to an ad in the paper for Radio Basel 1:

1) Alanis Morissette - Everything
2) Eamon - F**k It (I Don't Want You Back)
3) D12 - My Band
4) Mario Winans feat. Enya & P. Diddy - I Don't Wanna Know [note: could there be a stranger combination than Enya and P. Diddy?]
5) Baby Bash - Suga Suga
6) Tatana feat. Jaël - Always On My Mind
7) Britney Spears - Everytime
8) Usher - Yeah
9) Black Eyed Peas - Hey Mama
10) Anastacia - Left Outside Alone

(I think you can listen to Radio Basel 1 live with the link above--if you speak German and want to hear how different Swiss German sounds, try to listen sometime during the news. Sometimes when I'm driving I'll flip back and forth between the Basel station and Radio Regenbogen, a German station, to hear the difference.)

Don't look now...

...but the San Diego Padres have crept into first place in the NL West, one game ahead of the Dodgers. The season is still young, but hope springs eternal.

Strong Bad

I'm not really sure why I enjoy Homestar Runner (nor even how I found it), but some of the characters and the Strong Bad emails are kinda funny. You need Flash and a fast connection and a penchant for the slightly bizarre (but it's not nearly as strange as Badger Badger Badger)...

What's a brat worth?

Speaking of brats, one of Gretchen's guilty pleasures is watching Newlyweds on MTV. In one of the episodes earlier this year, Jessica calls Nick and asks "what's a bratsworth?" and at one point asks if it's white because it comes from a German pig. Maybe you have to be from Wisconsin to see the humor in calling bratwurst "bratsworth", but I think Gretchen almost peed her pants she was laughing so hard.

Only 1 day 'till Brat Fest!

This may sound like something happening in Switzerland, but no, it's right here in Wisconsin-- brat capital of the world. I hope by now everyone knows that I'm referring to bratwurst, the German sausage. Every year on Memorial Day weekend, Sentry Foods (a neighborhood grocery store) hosts a huge brat party. This is big time. They hype it all year as the "World's Biggest Brat Fest", and this year they have a goal of serving 150,000 brats. They grill them and sell them right in the parking lot. It could also be regarded as the place to be and be seen in Madison this weekend-- all sorts of local celebrities will be there as well, including Bucky Badger, the Governor, local TV personalities, etc. My Dad, especially in the last couple years of his life, loved this event so much that he would practically camp out at the picnic tables in the parking lot all weekend to enjoy a beer, a brat, and some Madison schmoozing. You better believe I'll be over there first thing tomorrow morning picking up my first brat of the summer!

Poor Monaco...

...lost 0-3 to Porto. Because I know you care.

Will Gretchen Ever Blog Again?

Hello all you faithful blog readers... It's a good thing that Kirk has been able to fill the blog every day with exciting tales of his Swiss adventures, because as you may have noticed, I haven't posted anything for the past month! Do you miss me? I doubt any of you would find it intriguing to hear about my daily chores as my Mom's caregiver, nor do I think it would really be appropriate to post that kind of stuff on a blog anyway, but I promise to try from time to time to add a post about my observations on life in Wisconsin. Stay tuned...

Another tweak

OK, I agree that the new comment system bites, so I've gone back to the old one. The only tricky thing is if you go to the specific page for a posting (like this), then it uses the new comment system. I'm going to try to fix that, but I'm not a programmer so I don't really know what I'm doing. Just don't comment from individual pages, but from the main Expatter page. ¿Bueno?

Like PB without the J

I was driving at lunch today and one of the radio stations played "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" without then playing "With a Little Help From My Friends". What's up with that? They're not remotely my favorite Beatles songs, but c'mon--everyone knows you always play them together. No pleading cultural ignorance here. (Maybe they're trying to save money on royalties to Ringo?) It's like playing "We Will Rock You" without "We Are the Champions" or "Tainted Love" without "Where Did Our Love Go?". Sheesh.

I wonder if they have anything by Whitesnake...

There was an article in yesterday's Financial Times about how they're going to start publishing a Top 20 list for sales of ringtones--I'm telling you, this seems to be huge business here. I would try it out if the instruction manual for my mobile phone weren't only available in German, French and Italian. According to the FT, "At deadline, Eamon's UK Number one single 'F**k It (I Don't Want You Back)' also topped the mobile survey, mercifully in instrumental form. But the top 20 also contained TV themes from Sex and the City, The Simpsons and Mission Impossible, plus back-catalogue rock favourites such as 'Eye Of The Tiger' and 'Sweet Home Alabama'."

"Eye of the Tiger"? And who in the UK is listening to "Sweet Home Alabama"?

[This reminds me that when I lived in LA, for awhile one of our upstairs neighbors used to listen to "Eye of the Tiger" at deafening volume over...and over...and over again, day...after day...after day. To be blatantly stereotypical, I think he had recently moved from one of the Balkan countries--Serbia, Croatia, one of those--and maybe Survivor was hugely popular on the radio there. Having been to a Bulgarian bar in New York and heard the stellar music selection, it wouldn't surprise me.]

Spargel!

If there's one thing people here seem to love, it's white asparagus, or spargel. It's not like the green asparagus we have at home--it's much bigger (dare I say phallic?), and obviously it's white. This time of year, most restaurants have a spargelkarte, or asparagus menu, where everything on the menu has an asparagus theme. I typically pass--I'll stick with a boring green salad, thank you very much.

Moo

Tonight Grady got a much closer look at the cowz n the hood, and he really didn't know what to make of them. He'd start walking toward them, then one would look up at him and he'd stop on a dime and try to get away. Lest you fear for their well-being, I didn't let him get close enough to disturb them.

Are you ready for some football?

Tomorrow night is the big Champions League final between Monaco and Porto. I'd like to say it's the talk of the town, but people here pretty much just seem to care about FC Basel. I'll be pulling for plucky little Monaco...

Could you mow my lawn while you're at it?

A while back Gretchen mentioned how thorough the street cleaners are here, and I saw it first-hand today when I went home at lunch to walk Grady. Not only did they have a guy with a broom following along with the street cleaner, but there was also a guy with a leaf blower blowing all of the spring tree funk (you know, all the stuff left over after the trees lose their blossoms--arboris funkiae I believe it's called) from the sidewalk into the path of the street cleaner, which sucked it all up. Plus, along one street where there were no cars parked, they just drove the street cleaner right up onto the sidewalk and cleaned the whole sidewalk that way.

Grady = shock therapy dog

As some of you may know, in addition to being a Customs Service dropout, Grady is also a guide dog school dropout. Not only did that work out well for us, it's probably best for whomever would have had Grady as their helper--I could see him yanking someone into traffic or over a fence trying to get at a squirrel or another dog. Still, we're big supporters of therapy dogs, even if it's not Grady's calling. This article and picture were on the website of one of the local papers (stellar translation from FreeTranslation.com):



Ten years society for therapy dogs
Switzerland on the dog come

Dog stop and its animals celebrated in the open church Elisabethen.

In the open church Elisabethen, one came at the past Saturday on the dog: on the occasion of the ten-year anniversary of the society for therapy dogs Switzerland approximately 30 dog owner with its animals as well as loaded guests in Basel encountered themselves. The extraordinary religious service let most dogs rather coldly. «Persons animals need», brought it Ursula Sissener, founder of the society, on the point. Actually: astonishing produced the experience exchanges during the religious service.

Totally flabbergasted «we had a heavily stuttering patient. As soon as it was with a dog together, it told a stotterfreien sentence.» Luzia Wittlin experienced this phenomenon at the canton hospital Basel in the frame of the Ergotherapie. Yet today it is totally flabbergasted. The dog had enabled it the patient to go out of itself out. Why therapy dogs can cause certainly «healing miracle,», is not proved. Roger Reinhard explains itself it as follows: «a dog does not appraise – in contrast to us persons.» for two years have let he and his wife its dog to the therapy dog instruct.

Education also in Basel a course this education enables practically each dog. Naturally it must fulfill certainly requests. Since newest, also Basel counts to one of the education sort. Trainer Annelies Hungerbühler wants to show the person, that a dog «not only ‹schisst› and ‹bällt›». Barking prices the animals however. So the Vierbeiner gave another food sample of its ability at the end of the religious service yet and barked drauflos.

www.therapiehunde.ch

File this away somewhere

If you're ever in Europe and you're in dire need of an oscillating table fan but don't know how to ask for one, you're in luck--I can give you the kind of valuable information you can't find just anywhere (I'll let you guess what the languages are):
Ventilador de mesa
Oscilação de ventilador de mesa
Ventilatore oscillante da tavola
Forgó asztali ventilátor
Kmitající stolní ventilátor
НАСТОЛЬНЬІЙ ВЕНТИЛЯТОР С ПОВОРАУИВАЮЩЕЙСЯ ГОЛОВКОЙ [note to self--skip those Russian lessons]
Ταλαντευόμενος επιτραπέζιος ανεμιστήρας
Oszillierender Tischventilator
Ventilateur de table oscillant
Zwenkende tafelventilator
Oscillerande bordsfläkt
Oscillerende bordventilator
Edestakaisin heilahteleva pöytätuuletin
Wentylator oscylacyjny stołowy
Salinimli masa vantilatörü
(Sorry, my Arabic is a bit rusty...)

Sticker Shock

I thought gas prices would be jarring, but it's dog food that's the real kicker. At home a typical 44 pound bag of dog food cost around $30. Here, I just bought Grady's first bag of food (we shipped some over), and 33 pounds cost about $70--basically triple the price per pound for comparable food (and it's just Eukanuba, not some special Swiss brand). I'm outraged. Aren't there some sort of free trade agreements (PFTA?) governing pet food?

Ring ring ring

In honor of our friend Stacy, I give you the bananaphone. (Note: you need Flash and probably a high-speed connection, and a slightly off-kilter sense of humor wouldn't hurt either.)

A comment on comments

If you want to add a comment, click where it says "0 Comments" (or something like that), then click on "Post a Comment". It will then give you the option of logging in if you have a Blogger account, and for some reason there may be a message that says "This blog does not allow anonymous comments." NOT TRUE! Just click on "Or Post Anonymously" and it should let you post without having to sign in. I think. I hope.

Alert the FCC!

I think we've mentioned that the primary advertising on the music channels here is for downloading ring tones for mobile phones (more on this later). Well, this weekend I kept hearing a catchy little ballad and I finally thought I saw that the song was called "F#*k It" by Eamon, but I figured maybe I was just reading the wrong thing. Well, sure enough, today at lunch I finally heard the song on the radio in its unedited version and that was the correct title. I was actually stunned that such a nice song could be so coarse (does this mean I'm getting old?), and that it was played on the radio uncut--it sort of sounded like Justin Timberlake singing gangsta rap. It's pretty catchy, so I'm sure kids all over Europe are singing along. Sing something like this in the U.S. these days and I think you might get arrested, at least in certain states south of the Mason-Dixon line. Here are the lyrics--parental discretion is advised.

How do you say "light starch" in German?

Sometimes it's the most mundane of tasks that make you feel like an idiot when you don't speak the language. Since my hausfrau is currently doing her hausfrauing in Wisconsin for her mom, I've had a buildup of work shirts that I've washed but not ironed (having your shirts laundered is much more expensive here than in the States, so most people do their own). I suppose one novel way to deal with this problem would have been to actually iron them myself, but get real! I'm a slowpoke, so it would have taken me all day and I still probably wouldn't have done a very good job. So, I bit the bullet and took them to a cleaner downtown today to have them pressed. Fortunately I looked up the German word for ironing (bügeln) before going, but that ended up being about the only easy part. When I explained I needed them ironed, she said something in German about how it was the same price to get them washed. I tried to explain that I didn't need them washed, just pressed, but she kept telling me it cost the same (not that there would normally be any harm in getting them washed again, but a lot of people find the washing machines here destroy their clothes more quickly than in the States--which may say something about both the high intensity of European washing machines and the cheap quality of American clothing--so I didn't want to take any chances. I was getting pretty flustered, but I think I finally convinced her that, while perhaps it was a strange request, just pressing would be OK even if I could get them washed for no extra cost. She asked another question I couldn't understand but I think we pantomimed that I wanted them on hangers (either that or she was making some sort of Swiss obscene gesture). Then she counted the shirts and there were ten of them, and it turns out that with ten shirts, the eleventh is free. She was very insistent about this. I tried to explain that I only had ten shirts to drop off, and she kept pointing at the eleventh for free. I really didn't feel like walking back to work with an armful of shirts just so I could wait until I had an eleventh (at which point I would have to walk back again), but she was being so insistent I thought I should maybe just rip off my tie and give her my shirt for the freebie (my undershirt is clean, after all, and with my suit I could have a kind of Miami Vice thing going). Finally, though, I just mustered up my best German and said "But I have ten!" She seemed disappointed in me--what kind of person doesn't want washing for no additional charge plus an additional shirt thrown in--but agreed to go along. After paying up I walked out and all of a sudden the old man who came in after me (and who helpfully translated when they would be ready) came out of the store and hollered for me to come back. It's a good thing I heard him, because I think he was ready to sprint after me, and I'm not sure he was up to it. It turns out I was supposed to get an electronic key card (like a hotel key) in lieu of a receipt--I have no idea why. In the end everything worked out, but I definitely felt like a bit of a doofus, and what pisses me off is I can't be upset with anyone but myself. I don't want to be the ugly American and get irritated when they can't speak English (although I can think it to myself sometimes, right?), but the reality is that I'm the foreigner in their country and if I don't speak German I can't expect it to be easy all the time. It sure would be nice to have a scapegoat for my lameness, though--how about the U.S. educational system? If they did a better job teaching foreign languages, maybe it would be easier here. There, now I feel better.

Toute Réflexion Faite

When you're driving around town, do you ever start to scan the radio and then get distracted and 10 minutes later realise you've been listening to something that sounds like a French version of NPR? And even though you only understand every tenth word or so, it doesn't occur to you to change the station? Yeah, I thought so.

New Look

I'd been threatening to tweak the blog lately, and now here it is. I'm still trying to figure out why the sidebar is at the bottom instead of along the side. Also, Blogger now has its own comment feature, so old comments have vanished--if the new comment feature isn't good, we can always go back to what we were using before. This is certainly an adventure...

But I Just Want to Sniff Your Butt

Yesterday I was walking Grady through the field near our house (lots of storks--I'm telling you, storks rock) when in the distance I saw a blind woman with a dog running off leash heading in our direction. I tried to pick up the pace so we could get ahead of them and not have an incident, but sure enough Grady had to do a bunch of sniffing and they caught up with this. The dog was a beautiful Swiss Mountain Dog--apparently not a guide dog, just a pet--that came right up behind Grady to try to sniff his butt (as dogs do). Grady didn't take too kindly to this and started to snarl, and I was afraid we were going to have an incident and I wasn't sure the blind woman would be able to jump in if they got into it. But sure enough, without a word from the owner her dog stayed back just far enough that Grady couldn't lunge, but close enough to try to get acquainted. Grady freaked out the whole time but everything was totally under control and the woman just said hello to me without a bit of concern. I tried to explain in my broken German that Grady wasn't so friendly with other dogs, but it didn't seem to bother her--I think she knew her dog was well-behaved enough that it wouldn't become an issue. Sometimes I wish Grady would just lighten up a little and make friends--he's actually not aggressive, but he'll go after another dog if he feels threatened (which is most of the time). He reminds me of a little boy whose idea of flirting is to pull girls' hair--he just doesn't get it.

Incidentally, this is the field--or rather, a fraction of it--near our house. Downtown Basel is in the distance; if you were to draw an imaginary line from the end of the trail, the big building in the distance is where I work. Right now in the field they're growing asparagus, strawberries, and a few other things I haven't figured out yet.

Top 10

Here's the latest Top 10 in Basel according to Radio Basel 1:

1) Baby Bash - Suga Suga
2) D12 - My Band [I'm already sick of this one]
3) Tatana Feat. Jaël - Always On My Mind [is this the old Willie Nelson song?]
4) Black Eyed Peas - Hey Mama
5) Usher - Yeah [I should be sick of this, but I'm not--it's still the catchiest song of the year]
6) Max - Can't Wait Until Tonight
7) Avril Lavigne - Don't Tell Me [sick of this one too]
8) Anastacia - Left Outside Alone
9) Enrique Iglesias Feat. Kelis - Not In Love
10)George Michael - Amazing

Esperanto, Anyone?

I'm putting together a couple of fans this morning (everyone warned me to buy fans before it gets hot--last summer when Europe had its terrible heat wave, there were no fans to be found anywhere). The Swiss fan has instructions in German, French and Italian (but not English)--this is pretty standard for Swiss products. The other fan, however, has instructions in 18 languages: English (yeah!), German, French, Dutch, Spanish, Portugese, Italian, Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, Finnish, Greek, Turkish, Russian, Polish, Czech, Hungarian, and Arabic. (But no Lithuanian, Latvian, Slovenian?)

Shut Up, Just Shut Up, Shut Up

With Gretchen out of town for a month, my only companion other than Grady is the TV, so I've been seeing a lot of Fergie from Black Eyed Peas lately (both "Shut Up" and "Hey Mama" tonight, for example). That's not a bad thing is all I'm saying... [NOTE: Gretchen likes the Black Eyed Peas and thinks Fergie is sassy in a Gwen Stefani kind of way, so this is acceptable...]

Gute Fahrt

Whatever you do this weekend, I of course wish you a gute fahrt. (Today we drove through the Belchen Tunnel, which reminds me that when we were waiting for the train to leave from Wengen, Grady uncorked a massive belch--which, if you've met Grady, you know is at least an hourly occurrence--and I'm sure the only other guy in our section of the train was like "yeah, blame it on the dog" when I said something to Grady about it...)

Grady's Excellent Adventure

Since today was a holiday (with warm, sunny weather), Grady and I took a road trip up to the Alps. We drove a couple of hours to Lauterbrunnen, parked the car, then took a train up to the ski town of Wengen. It was Grady's first train ride (ever!), and all things considered he did pretty well (other than occasionally hitting the lady across from me, who was breast-feeding her baby at the time, with his wagging tail). When we got to Wengen I was starving so we went to an outdoor restaurant--another first for him. He barked at me a few times and kept trying to sniff the waitresses when they walked past, but he was pretty good-natured about the whole thing, especially since all he got out of it was a little taste of my rösti. We went for a hike and it was gorgeous; this is a view from Wengen:



While waiting for the train back to Lauterbrunnen, I had to go to the bathroom but didn't want to leave him outside on his own (you never know when some rogue St. Bernard will come around looking for trouble) so I took him down with me and I think he terrified the poor guy who was already in there (he went in before me and was basically standing against the wall still zipping his pants when I left). That's the sort of thing I hadn't thought about when I decided to take him to the mountains with me--oh well, live and learn. Anyway, we took the train back down and it wasn't crowded so Grady hopped up to enjoy the view:



When we got back to Lauterbrunnen we walked to Staubbach Falls but at that point we were pooped so after loading up on caffeine (me, not him) we made the drive back. I'm very proud of him--he's still no Swiss dog and he never will be that well-behaved, but it kinda felt like our boy did a little growing up today...

I may start experimenting with some of the new Blogger features, including maybe changing the look of the blog, so things may be a bit unstable while I try new things...

Tomorrow is a holiday here--Ascension Day--and since the weather has finally been so nice I feel like I should take a day trip somewhere with Grady. So I'm looking at a map of the Swiss railway system and I can't believe how many town names make me laugh: Belp, Worb, Wangs, Titlis, Thun, Flums, Twing, Ftan, Laax, Flims, Fafleralp, Muotathal, Biberbrugg...

This is classic--the return of dodgeball! It reminds me of a day back at Westwood Elementary School when my class had a special recess to play dodgeball. We had a particularly zealous substitute teacher that day, and she gleefully wound up and hurled the ball as hard as she could at one of my classmates and hit him, shall we say...below the waist. I can still hear the WHOOMP of the ball and the collective gasp that followed. He ended up in the nurse's office, our dodgeball games were substantially curtailed from that point on (stupid liability issues), and I'm not sure I ever saw her substitute teach there again...

If I had a boat
I'd go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I'd ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat.

(I'm just getting in touch with my inner Lyle Lovett this morning--it probably has something to do with my hair...)

Since Gretchen has been in Wisconsin, I have actually had to do my own grocery shopping (horrors!). So, here are some observations about how shopping here differs from at home:

-- You have to put down a deposit for a shopping cart. You put a 2 franc coin in the cart to release it, then when you return it the coin pops back out.

-- You weigh your own fruits/vegetables and get a price tag before going to the register (Gretchen learned this the hard way--the first time we visited Basel, she brought some fruit to the register without a price tag and the cashier started squawking at her in Swiss German and another customer scolded her for not getting the tag first).

-- There are two main grocery stores here--Coop and Migros--and they're almost always within a block or two of each other. There is some overlap, but they also carry different brands. At least if one store doesn't have what you're looking for, you can be pretty certain the other store will be nearby and you can find it there. I haven't figured out if they're intense competitors or if they are in intense collusion.

--Recycling of plastic bottles is typically done at the grocery stores. You don't get money back or anything, but it's just understood that you'll return your plastic bottles to the store.

--You're typically expected to bring your own bags to carry groceries. Otherwise, you can buy bags at the store, or they often have tiny, flimsy bags that can carry a few items.

--You always bag your own groceries.

--If you have a car with Virginia tags, everyone in the parking lot stares at you as if you're a leper.

I'm sure Gretchen has caught more subtle distinctions, but that's what I've noticed so far...

After paying around $2.15 for a gallon of gas while in the States this weekend (and more importantly, hearing the hysteria about it on the news--the sky is falling!), I thought I'd see how prices here compare. Last time I filled up, it was about 1.45 francs per litre, which equals about 5.49 francs per gallon. At today's exchange rate, that's about $4.30 per gallon. Of course, they actually have an excellent public transportation system here so in theory you really shouldn't have to spend that much time in your car...

One of the headlines in today's paper is "Chaotische Fahrt". I don't even want to know...

Cicada update from our friend Spahr in DC: "On a separate note, the cicadas are taking over. I est. there has to
be hundreds (if not thousands) in my front yard alone...and more keep coming up from the ground every
day. It's freaky and kind of gross (lots of dead bugs and shells all over the place)...frankly, they are tough to miss walking down the street at the moment. When cars drive by, you hear crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch...". I'm happier every day to be in a cicada-free zone.

One of the things I like about train travel is that it's easier to get up and walk around than on a plane, but sometimes I forget that train rides aren't always as smooth as I think they are--if you don't make sure you have sound footing as you're walking around, you can easily end up in someone's lap. Today I was taking the train back from the Frankfurt Airport to Basel (about a 3-hour ride) and went to get a cappucino. As I was walking back to my seat, I tried to get out of the way of someone who was coming with luggage at the exact moment the train suddenly jolted. Anyone else probably would have just reached out and grabbed the wall with no major incident, but being me, I immediately lost my grip on the cappucino and dropped it right in front of the woman I had just avoided. Thankfully it spilled more than spattered and seemed to have missed her, but the drink was a total loss. The woman in the cafe car must have thought I was a caffeine junkie when I immediately returned for a coffee (which I somehow got back to my seat without spilling).

Among the gems heard on the drive from Madison to Chicago: Meat Loaf, "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) [by the way, what is "that"?]; Journey, "Any Way You Want It"; Rod Stewart, "You're In My Heart" AND "Young Turks"; Glenn Frey, "The Heat is On"; The Tubes, "She's a Beauty"; Kansas, "Carry On Wayward Son"; and perhaps best of all, Van Halen, "Hot for Teacher" ("CLASS DISMIIIIIIIIIISED!"). And this was just in the first 30-45 minutes of the trip, before I found a re-broadcast of "Whad'Ya Know?" on NPR to get me the rest of the way.

Oh, what excitement today! Gretchen and I were able to get out of the house for a little while, so we headed over to Culver's (home of the ButterBurger--don't ask) for some frozen custard. The sign in front said that Bucky would be there at 2:00. Now, any good Wisconsinite knows that Bucky is Bucky Badger (or Bucky THE Badger if you prefer), and Gretchen has a deep fondness for Bucky. Since it was already 2:45, we feared we were too late. But no! As we walked in, there was Bucky smack-dab in front of us. Gretchen wasn't about to play it cool--she just hollered out "Hey Bucky!" and gave him a high-five (I think she almost knocked over a couple of kids to get to him). I even got caught up in the moment and realised I was wearing a "BUCKY" t-shirt and lifted my sweatshirt to show him, which he really seemed to appreciate (how many people can say they've lifted their shirt for a giant badger at a frozen custard place in Middleton, Wisconsin?). It just doesn't get much better than that...

Of course, "tortured" has taken on whole new meanings these past few weeks, but if it's possible to use the term in a somewhat light manner, any San Diego sports fan can relate to this.

This is how bad the radio options are in the rural stretch between Chicago and Madison: at one point the best song I could find was "Babe" by Styx. "You know it's yoooooooouuuuuu, babe, whenever I get weary and I've had enough..."

Yesterday on the train from Basel to Frankfurt, I sat next to two middle-aged German couples who were obviously taking a vacation together. At 9:00am one of them, a roly-poly guy with a silver necklace with a German Shepherd pendant (all that was missing was the lederhosen and an oompah band) busted out a huge bag of pretzels and a bottle of champagne wrapped in tinfoil. Next thing you know the four of them were downing champagne from plastic cups and munching on pretzels (the big kind like you can get at baseball games)--it was like our own little beer hall on the train.

Things will probably be slow on the blog for a few days while I'm in Wisconsin. Here's hoping for uneventful travels...

Here's how you can tell what songs are especially popular here--almost every ad on the music channels is for downloading ringtones for your mobile (or cell phone as you Americans call them)--this is evidently huge business here. Anyway, not too long ago, every ad featured Usher's "Yeah" (which I have to admit is catchy). Well now every ad seems to be for "My Band" by D12 (Eminem's band...or crew...or posse...or boyz).

[Interesting--to me at least--observation: while typing this, D12's "My Band" came on MTV, followed by Usher's "Yeah", then ads featuring ringtones for both. Coincidence?]

I leave bright and early Thursday morning for a weekend in Wisconsin, which should be good for a lot of reasons, including giving Gretchen a big hug after being apart for a few weeks, spending time with her mom, and maybe eating some frozen custard. I also think I need a break from Grady so I have something else to talk and write about.

So evidently this is the year the cicadas return to the DC area, and I haven't decided yet whether I should be bummed that I'm missing a once-every-seventeen-years phenomenon, or whether I should be thankful that I don't have to deal with thousands of cicada carcasses. Wait, now that I put it that way I think I'm leaning towards thankful.

One of the songs that's played all the time--like right now, for instance--on MTV here is "Mad World" by Gary Jules (who, it turns out, is from San Diego, so mad props and good on ya and all that stuff to him). Anyway, we bought the album and it's only OK, but hearing "Mad World" always reminds me how much I used to like the Tears for Fears album "The Hurting" ("Mad World" is a song on that album). I'm not really sure what my point is here...

OK, I know I said I'd ease up on the Grady stories, but just one more (what do you expect--he's my sole companion these days!). On our Saturday morning walk we went past the neighborhood bakery. I tied his leash outside (it's quite common for stores here to have attachments to the wall where you can leave your dog) and went in to buy some bread. I was at the counter when all of a sudden there was a "WHOOMP!" and there was Grady, who had jumped up and was pressing his face against the window to see what was happening. He ducked back down and I apologised and all of a sudden "WHOOMP!" there he was again--just this dopey black lab face staring in. Luckily the people were very nice about it (at least I think they were nice about it--I didn't understand a word they said, but they smiled and gave me a cookie for him).

Blogger (which hosts this blog) has been redesigned, so there may be some hiccups while we try new features, etc.

I'm really glad we don't live in an apartment building, because a lot of them supposedly have really draconian rules. In particular, you're not supposed to do much of anything after 9:00pm--laundry, shower, even flushing toilets are all strictly verboten. We heard stories about apartment buildings where men were expected to sit down when they peed after a certain time (is there anything more deafening than a man peeing in the night?), but weren't sure if this was true or just a myth--none of the people we've met have been told to sit down at night, or at least not that they'd admit to. Anyway, when I was in Obi (the local equivalent of Home Depot, only nicer) yesterday I got confirmation that this is indeed a problem in at least some jurisdictions--they had this sign for sale, which would seem to indicate that at least some people are trying to take matters into their own hands, so to speak (although judging from the sign, maybe the problem isn't noise but just really poor aim):

I don't want to just make this Grady's blog (he's not especially literate, even for a lab), but I'm going to post just one more picture to get it out of my system. I tried to get him to stand like the dog on the sign, but he was more interested in sniffing something nearby. (Incidentally, the sign means no dogs allowed--it still sometimes throws me off when I see signs like this instead of the U.S. circle with a slash through it, so when I first visited Basel I thought it meant dogs were welcome):

Today seems to be picture day on the blog, so I took a camera along on my walk with Grady this afternoon. First of all, I took him to meet the local cows (or cowz, as we call them here in our 'hood):



Then I got a little taste of home--I knew there must be a reason I felt so comfortable in Basel:



And finally, here's an example of Swiss German. If you don't speak any German it probably won't mean anything to you--but then again, if you do speak German, it still probably won't mean anything to you. I entered it into FreeTranslation.com and only one or two words could be translated:

Today's valuable lesson: mowing a knee-high lawn after a week of rain with an electric mower sucks. But at least it looks better.

Before:


After:

They're really into wisteria (at least I think that's what it's called) around here--while not as spectacular as the wisteria that grows up the facades of some older buildings in town, this is some in our backyard:

Heard today on the radio: a French version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart". Rock on...

This is the sort of thing that is embarassing: last week I was having problem with my air conditioning and my office, which gets full sun in the morning, was an absolute sauna. So they sent someone up to look at it and he tried to explain what was wrong but he didn't speak English--he spoke German, Spanish, French, and probably a few others for all I know. The maintenance worker! I felt like he should probably have my job dealing with international banking and I, Mr. Sprechen Sie Englisch?, should be working maintenance (except I'm not very handy, which could be a problem).

The standard greeting here is "grützi", but just to be extra confusing, there are endless variations on this (I'm not sure if any of these are spelled correctly): grützi abend, grützi wohl, grützi mittenand, etc. The most common seems to be grützi mittenand, so we've taken to saying it to people. Well, I finally found out that's what you say when you're addressing more than one person. So every time a person has said grützi mittenand to us when we're together and we've responded back with grützi mittenand, they must have thought we were idiots for addressing them in the plural. (And don't get me started on how confusing it is when someone speaks with you in German, then says "merci" and "adieu" as you're leaving...)

Our friend Julie passed along the web site for JohnKerryIsADoucheBagButImVotingForHimAnyway.com, which at first glance looks promising.

Geez--just got an email from my alma mater (good ol' UCSD) and it said they admitted 17,151 freshmen for the coming year. I don't think there were that many students in total when I was there (and did I mention that when I went there I had to walk two miles to class uphill in the snow? These young whippersnappers today don't know how easy they have it...). The frightening thing is that even with larger admissions I still probably couldn't get in if I were applying now.

Perhaps I spoke too soon--looks like Monaco vs. Porto in the Champions League final. I can only imagine the buzz in the States about that right now...

Chelsea is currently playing Monaco in the semifinals of the Champions League (that would be football...oh, wait, I'm sorry--soccer). Not that I really have a strong view on either team, but Monaco are sort of the gutty underdogs and Chelsea pissed me off in their first game (dirty play, taking dives, etc.), so I think I have to pull for Monaco even though I suspect Chelsea will pull it off. I know this is just the sort of information you've been eagerly awaiting.

Today was an all-day meeting, the highlight of which came when a head of banking supervision in a major financial center got a call on his cellphone (or should I say his "mobile" or "handy") and said to the group in his best deadpan voice as he fumbled for his phone: "it's just my son calling from prison." (((Guess you had to be there...)))

More from 20 Minuten (my primary source of local news) and FreeTranslation.com: a translated article about "Nipplegate", as they call it:

«Nipplegate» should distract of international problems

According to Janet Jackson, the protest wave against hers should stripped distract right breast in the Superbowl-final game of the political crisis of the bush-government. Plot-theorists paid attention! The thesis is namely attractive: «the government something needed to distract around of important international problems», said Jackson of that «financial Times Germany (Tuesday edition). Fine citizens would have made after that its senators the life to the hell and had released the US-congress several ordinances. «You necessary only a peg - and that they found with me. To this extent it would have been able to encounter each, but they have me rausgepickt. That is would ask itself really doubtfully.» you how it would stand around the USA and its state. «It shows, need that we urgently a democrat as presidents.»

I was just flipping through the local paper and there is an ad for someone called Dave202. Is it possible that our friend Dave in DC has a secret life we don't know about?

Like Opus the Penguin (or as some of you might say, Opie Me Penguin), Grady seems to have a fondness for dandelions. Every time he goes outside, he has an uncanny knack for plopping himself down next to a few of them and either scratching himself or rolling in such a way as to send little dandelion puffs (is that the scientific name?) all over the yard. Great for the old allergies...

The guy working security at our parking garage the past few days bears an eerie resemblance to Andy Dick...

Just for fun, I cut and pasted the article from 20 Minuten about the FC Basel celebration into FreeTranslation.com and this is what it came up with:

«Vollgeil, finally closed we the cover»

The FCB is Swiss soccer masters 2004: thousands fans celebrated left out yesterday evening on the barefooter place the 10th championship of the red-blue. Around 18.05 clock, all dams broke: in the stadium in Thun, the fans stormed after the 2:0-Sieg of the FCB the lawn. In Basel, the those who stayed at home in the arms and bejubelten lay themselves the already expected championship of the FCB. «Vollgeil. Finally we closed the cover», was happy Miriam (21) before the Mona-Lisa-club in the stones. «Now it goes on the Barfi.»

Your thousands Basler did it same and about at 20 o'clock the place of a blue-red crowd of people was filled. The beer flowed in streaming. «Olee, olee, olee-olee-olee, FC Basel – Swiss master», sang the fans again and again and demanded loudly its heros – the master-team 2004.

When Benjamin Huggel entered around 21.30 clock more first the master celebration-terrace of the Stadtcasinos and welcomed the fans, was the disposition on the highpoint – the entire place was wrapped into dense smoke, illuminates by red torches. Entertainer Huggel let nominally celebrate the public each single participant. The fans received as thanks to champagne-showers. Many extended the master party after that in the Basler bars and clubs.

I'm sure this was one of the lead stories on ESPN or your local news last night, but if you're living in a cave and didn't hear the big news, FC Basel are the official Swiss soccer champions (or should I say Schweizer Fußballmeister), beating out second-place Young Boys. Evidently there was mayhem on the streets of Basel last night as the Bebbis were out on the Barfüsserplatz chanting "Olee, olee, olee-olee-olee, FC Basel -- Schweizermeister", at least if this article is to be believed--celebration photos here (click "weiter" to see more photos--celebrating with flares and other pyrotechnics seems to be quite common in Europe).

If you've ever wondered why living in Wisconsin isn't high on my list of priorities, I just talked to Gretchen and it's snowing. In May. That's just wrong...

One of the great things about Basel is that there are countless acres of open land in and around town, most of which have well-maintained trails, or Wanderweg, running through them (according to Frommers, "On the outskirts of the city are 1,198km (744 miles) of Wanderweg, which are marked trails crisscrossing the scenic highlights of the area..."--and that's just for Basel!). Anyway, it seems a shame to have all this beautiful land and make Grady stick to city streets. The problem is, Grady doesn't always get along with other dogs, and the Swiss like to let thir dogs off leash. So, what to do?

I've figured that as long as Grady is on leash, if there are any problems it's not his fault and if someone wants to yell at me in Swiss German, my feelings won't be hurt. Plus, the Swiss seem to have an innate ability to control their dogs, so I figure the chances of anything serious happening are pretty slim. Today I took him for a walk to the Predigerhof, a restaurant with outdoor seating in the middle of the fields not far from our place [side note: when I just googled Predigerhof, the first thing that came up was what appears to be a gay bar in Zurich--go figure]. Sure enough we must have passed 10-15 dogs, almost all off leash, and in every instance as soon as the people saw Grady getting a little nutty, they'd call their dog over and there were no problems. At one point a huge, beautiful Bernese Mountain Dog came bounding over, and just when I thought we were going to have a confrontation, another dog at the restaurant barked and the Bernese got distracted and ran away.

People still give Grady funny looks sometimes because, frankly, when he gets worked up his breathing sounds sort of like Darth Vader on crack. Plus I've had a few people tell me (in English) that since their dog is a lady, they should get along fine. But overall, other than some apparent shaking of the head at my inability to have a well-behaved dog, I haven't really experienced any of the overt snippiness I was expecting from the Swiss.

Speaking of Polizei (see below), I think my lack of German spared me a confrontation yesterday. I was driving to work, and the only way I knew to get to the front of our building was to cut down a side street next to our building that may only be available for taxis, buses and bikes (my reading of the sign, which is in German, is a bit vague). I cut down that street yesterday and there were three Polizei with various cars pulled over. One of them stopped me, looked at my Virginia tags, and asked "sprechen Sie Deutsch"? So I was honest and with my most innocent face said "nein", then pointed at my building and said "Ich arbeit in der BIZ" (which I think is a goshawful way of saying I work at the BIS--BIZ in German). He just sort of rolled his eyes and said OK and let me go. So I guess the lesson to be learned here is that sometimes being an ignorant, monolingual American has its advantages.

The Swiss take the notion of Sunday as a day of rest very seriously. I had heard that it was verboten to do any sort of noisy work outside on Sundays--one of the books we have on Swiss social customs says that on Sundays there should be no noisy working in the garden (lest the church bells and birds be drowned out, I suppose). I had heard, though, that it might be possible to work around this, which I was hoping since our backyard has gone from lawn to prairie to jungle and is on the verge of becoming an ecosystem unto itself if I don't mow it soon:



When our landlord called this morning I asked about mowing today and she said she didn't think it would be a problem. Great! Then a half hour later she called back urgently to tell me she had spoken with her husband (who lives in France--don't ask) and he told her it was against the law to use motorised equipment outdoors on Sundays and that the neighbors could (and probably would) call the police if I were to mow the lawn. So our lawn is still a disaster, but at least I don't have to face angry neighbors or the Polizei.

Those of you have had the pleasure of meeting Grady know that he has his quirks. There are times he drives us nuts. But I have to say, at times like this it's really nice to have him around, quirks and all. He's a good companion and he makes me laugh. This morning when we were walking, a sweet old lady came out of her house, looked at Grady, and said something like "schön hund" (plus a bunch of other unintelligible Swiss German stuff), which I think more or less means "what a pretty dog". It's 10:00am and too early to raise a toast, so instead I raise my coffee mug to Grady. To Grady!

One of the small pleasures of living here is the ringing of church bells. (It helps that we don't live right next to a church--we have friends who live next to a church and found the bells charming for the first week but aren't so enamoured any more with the inability to hear themselves think when the bells are ringing.) There's something peaceful about opening the back door and hearing the distant chiming of bells. Right now, all I can hear outside are bells and birds. It certainly beats sirens (DC) or helicopters (LA)...