A Note From The Golden City

Ok Kiddies, this is going to be a quick one, mainly because I don't want to say too much and have it take away from the real blog about this trip, but I find myself with free internet and some time to spare so I wanted to write a quick hello.

MFP and I are in Prague right now, we got in last night. We are staying in the nicest 5 star hotel with a panoramic view of the city and the most amazing bathroom I have ever had the pleasure of using (it even plays music). I am tired of the constant sight-seeing and mentally converting dollars into crowns, but Prague is so amazing it doesn't matter. Tomorrow is our last real day here and then Monday morning we are on the early train to Budapest.

I am now left with twelve more days in Europe until I head back to The States, a fact that I only realized today on the U-Bahn to a formerly communist radio-jammer. It's something that I have been avoiding and plan on continuing to avoid thinking about. It's too crazy and way to easy to dwell on and could far to easily ruin my current state of mind which is currently positive and grounded. These last few weeks of vacation have been great to me and for one of the first times in my life I feel myself living in the moment.

Ok, there is a woman waiting for my seat. Please excuse the lack of picture but there is no way to upload here.

I miss you dear readers, and will be back with the official trip blog as soon as I can.

My Little Pony

My last few days have been nothing short of mellow-awesomeness. I sleep in until seven-thirty in the morning (the time around which Grossvati starts to fumble in the kitchen laying out breakfast), drink a cup of death-coffee (Grossi agrees with me on this one, Grossvati doesn’t pay attention to how much grinds he puts in the filter, and so the coffee is more of an instant diarrhetic then a morning-boost), only to then shower and catch a tram into Basel so I can take my place on the Rhine and write Skipper letters about my plan for the day and how well I am doing. At some point I pickup Chung from her fascinating, and lifesaving work in retail, and I either pull her back to the Rhine, or she drags me to Obi, the Swiss equivalent to Home Depot with the promise of ice cream (if I behave).

My time with Chung these last few days have been great. She has lovingly and patiently put up with my constant ramblings, leg-slaps, walks, judgments, not to mention constant trips to the Rhine, day after day. The more time I have spent with Chung over the years, the more insanely lucky I feel to have met her. Between her new found love for the art of sarcasm, use of American slang, fervor for TV, our shared passion for retail therapy, and her all-around nuttiness, it is hard for me to sometimes look at Chung and not see her for what she is: my Swiss soul mate. Don’t get me wrong, Chung is a handful. She is a lot like a stubborn pony, always needing snacks, nuzzling my neck, and biting my shoulder. She is also always more then willing to stop and engage in a two minute hug, regardless if we are walking down the street or standing in the middle of a department store. My heart clenches at the thought of leaving here without her, and saying good bye to her is one of those thoughts that I try and keep out of my mind. Chung is to my life, what Aromat is to my cooking: a flavor enhancer.

Pyrotechnics

I am sitting in my room at my grandparents, listening to them sing-a-long to the Swiss nation anthem that is blaring from the TV in their living-room. Fireworks are going off outside my window, loud reminders that today is Switzerland’s independence day, August 1st.

Last night was Basel’s big fireworks extravaganza, which both Chung and I slept through. It was in the 90’s yesterday and between going to watch the new Narnia movie (yes, that’s how cool I am), and having two inches of frizz added to my fro, I was more then fine with by-passing the patriotic festivities, and going back to my grandparents to paint my nails (Nars’ “Jungle Red,” to be exact) and watch the first season of Project Runway on my laptop.

Even today, I spent the first part of the morning watching the second half of Project Runway and eating lunch, twice (Grossi cooked for Grossvati and I, and then after my cousins had called to say that they couldn’t make lunch at 12 o’clock, when we always sit down to eat, they would come at one, which lead Grossi to cooking a second time and then having only one of my cousins show up, she forced me to eat a second time).

After the final judging, and Jay winning the finale, I headed into Basel to catch Get Smart, and have the guy sitting behind me call me a “Bitch” because he overheard me complain to Chung about how his girlfriend loudly could not decide on a seat as the movie started. I just now walked home, to find the dark and stormy sky start to break with beautiful cuts of a soft, clear sunset. Swiss flags hanging out front of the houses, people on balconies and in backyards drinking beer and setting off miniature pyrotechnics, all while the scent of cheap white, wax candles drift through the Summer air: all reminders of the many Summers my sister and I spent here as kids, Dede loving it, me waiting to go home.

Thursday Night Delight

I am sitting in my grandparents living room, watching Wolf Blitzer on CNN. I haven’t had a tv for two years now, and can’t help but be drawn to the sickening beauty that is German television as Dr. Sylvia and my grandparents play cards in the other room.

As you might have noticed, I didn’t get around to defrosting my freezer as quickly as I would have liked on Friday, and wasn’t able to blog my amazing Thursday night. Saturday I worked and then finished packing my stuff up and cleaning my apartment, and then coming here to my grandparent’s house in Baselland, which has no internet. So although I am writing this on Sunday, July 27th, who knows when I will be able to post it.

So, Thursday night. Thursday was a great day. Between amazing weather, getting off of work before lunch, and being given ninety francs as tip money after having one hundred francs suckered out of me a few days prior, I was set to throw caution to the wind and enjoy one of my last nights in Luzern. Around six o’clock I got a call from my old roommate, Paul. Paul called to ask if I wanted to take a ride on his boat, seeing how nice the weather was. At first I was hesitant, I was waiting to meet someone, and wasn’t sure how long I was going to be held up, but I asked Paul if I could get back to him in an hour, and hung-up feeling like I would be really missing out on an adventure by not taking up his offer. After taking a bus to a foreign party of the city, waiting in a seedy park with a kid name Paddy whose two front teeth had both died, and then getting back on a bus back to Bundesplatz, Paul picked me up in his white station wagon and drove to the harbor on the backside of the lake.

After Paul parked the car, he went to the trunk and pulled out a large vinyl bag and a hand pump, and he began pumping up a medium sized motor boat. It was a nice boat, and when he was done setting it up (all I really had to do was stand in the middle of the boat as he put the floor in place, which made me feel like I was a big help), we were soon already in the water. It was one of those boats where you have to sit on the side, and I was a bit worried about falling out at first (not just out of the boat, but I also was wearing a tube-top and was worried about falling out of that as well), but figured that if that was in fact going to happen, it would probably just add to the whigmaleerie (yes, that is a word) of the adventure. We took off from the dock at a smooth, slow speed (Paul had gotten a speeding ticket a few days prior), but after the first booye, he let loose and I found myself laughing to the point of tears as we jumped waves and caught air, blazing through warm water and past some of the most beautiful green hills and magnificent houses and mountains I have ever seen.

We parked in the middle of a part of the lake that is surrounded by five different villages, the sun hadn’t started to set but was getting there, Paul laying in the boat, both of us drinking beers and talking about the complications of falling in love, and how much more difficult Luzern can make it. As I looked around I knew that I couldn’t have planned a more beautiful finale for my last few days in a city that I had finally come to feel at home in.

As the sun started to set we were back on the move and headed back towards the city to catch some of the music drifting on to the water from the Blue Balls Festival (whoever named the festival that is a legend). We had ran out of beer, so Paul parked the boat in front of the KKL, a large modern building next to the train station, and I got out to go get more beer. After a good twenty minutes of navigating my way through the Blue Ball’s crowd and getting out of the packed grocery store alive, I was back in the boat and we were cruising towards the music. By this point the lake had turned the most wonderful shade of sherbet pink and purple, and the moon had begun to cast a beautiful shimmer of light on the mirror smooth water. It was almost audacious how perfect everything was. We didn’t stay long though, I had to work the next day and Paul didn’t have a light on the boat, so we headed back. I did however get to drive the boat back to the dock, and Paul even let me do donuts and then cruise up to some not-bad looking guy on the pier playing the guitar and gave him one of Paul’s beers (in true form I then just sailed away) and after Paul packed the boat back up, we shared a final beer and watched some of The Bucket List as it played at the outdoor movie theater next to the pier. Paul then drove me home, and as I hugged him good-bye, I thanked him for one of the best nights I have had in an incredibly long time. An evening that I will never forget.

It took me a while to get to sleep that night. Skipper called about ten minutes after I had gotten into bed and I relished being able to vomit the nights events to here while they were still so fresh in my mind. After we hung-up, I laid in my bed for what would be one of the last times, and fell asleep with the awareness that nights like that were few and far between, and that I was overjoyed with my good fortune to having been able to experience it.

Painting For Booty

Ok, so here is the deal, I am in Basel right now, borrowing Chung's internet. Believe it or not, but my ninety year old grand parents aren't partakers of the World Wide Web and I am currently resorting to checking my e-mail and Facebook on my phone. Woe is me.

Obviously I didn't get to defrosting my fridge in time to address my last post, but it is typed and will be coming at you soon. I plan on blogging a lot in the next couple weeks, seeing how I am finally on vacation and not working (therefore have something other to write then just bitching about work), and plan on just posting what I have, when I can.

In a week MFP will be here and we will be off for our European Summer adventure. Vienna, Prague and Budapest, and I am really looking forward to blogging as we go. How the hell I am going to blog nine days, I am not certain, but I have been such a jerk when it comes to the lack of posts, that I think I owe it to you Cake Eaters, all three four of you.

Ok? So bare with me, I have been blogging, I just need the means to post and we should be in business. I now have to go help Chung paint a table. She is cooking dinner for this guy she likes tomorrow night, and obviously likes him enough to ditch going to the movies with me in order to have us pain a table for them to eat on.

Livin' The Good Life

Oh man, let's hope I get done de-frosting my freezer early tomorrow, because tonight was one of the best night's I have had in a long time, and by far the BEST finale for these last three years. Let's just say it involved beers, the most awesome sunset, me driving a boat, and Blue Balls.

I am going to fall asleep happy tonight. So past my bed time!

The Bake-Off: The Results Are In

Yeah, sorry, but I feel that this deserves it's own separate post. I got my marks for The Bake-Off last Thursday and let's just say: I kick ass. With 6 being a perfect score, 4 being passing, I scored a 5,3. I wasn't expecting a 5,3 to be honest. Seeing how the grade is a combination of my written, verbal, practical exams and my grades from school for the last three years, I was hoping to just pass. Now, after having several classmates call to find out how I did, it seems that I tied for the spot as being the best in Luzern. It feels amazing to know that not only am I now a certified Swiss Confectioner (they send me a passport looking thingy that says so), but that I royally kicked the Swiss at their own game. Yes, this is me toot-ing my own horn. Toot Toot Bitches!!

It doesn't get more gold then that!

Three Minutes

I got off work early today (there was an incident with my Boss and his daughter involving a bucket being kicked, keys being thrown, a lot of screaming, and some door slamming) and came home to a message from Skipper. It started off friendly and ended with her demanding I blog in a very frustrated tone. I hate it when Skipper gets frustrated with me, and seeing how I still have two hours until Weeds, I figured that if a blog is what she wants, then a blog is what she shall have.

I spent this weekend making Dr. Sylvia look good. Saturday was the 75th birthday party for her old boss, and seeing how Chef Doug is back in California, I was the lovely Doctor's date. It was a luncheon of about thirty people, myself being the youngest, the rest ranging from forty to eighty. I knew going into it that it was going to be an afternoon of my usual shtick, five hours to be precise. In the last couple years I have come to hate my shtick: the same stories, the same jokes, changing my playlist depending on the crowd. It's too easy, and old people are a way too of an easy sell. The things I do for Dr. Sylvia.

So we are standing there at the apero, Sylvia and I, both not really knowing anyone there, when a seventy-five year old woman with fake red hair walks up to us. She had worked with the Doctor about thirty years ago, introducing herself as "Borgy" (I am not even making that up, that's the woman's name). It wasn't a couple sentences after her introduction that she started to persistently ask Sylvia what she had done to deserve a man like Chef Doug. Now, I have grown up with women displaying this sort of jealousy towards Doctor Sylvia, but seeing how I like to give people a good three minutes before I decide what part of myself I am going to give them, this woman's three minutes ended thirty-seconds in, and I only felt bad for her when we were seated at the same table. Between asking me if I "think before I eat," and grabbing me by the arm and asking me to promise that Dr. Sylvia give Chef Doug a big kiss from her, she was lucky I didn't pull out her dentures and shove them down her wrinkly throat. Fuck with me, OK. Fuck with Dr. Sylvia, and I will wipe pavement with your face. The woman just didn't know when to stop, and Dr. Sylvia and I both felt relieved when she began to embarassingly slather herself on the man sitting next to her. The best part of our whole Borgy-ordeal? Chef Doug didn't know who she was until Dr. Sylvia had to explain to him for a good couple minutes who she was. Goes to show that real women marry real men, and old whores go forgotten. Think those words are a bit harsh? Don't fuck with Dr. Sylvia.

The luncheon as a whole was nice though. It was kind of tappas style, which, if you have ever had to suffer eating with me in a restaurant, was great. I have a tendency to get intimidated by large plates of food to the point of freaking-out and having to leave, so tappas fit me perfectly. Old men flirted with me, the youngest (who looked JUST like Greg Brady from the Brady Bunch) is actually one of those police helicopter pilots, and I found myself thinking that his flirtation could come in handy if I ever get arrested. His wife was also very nice. After five hours of doing my shtick, Dr. Sylvia and I took three trains and a bus up to Sorenberg and immediately changed into sweats and flip flops, and sat outside staring at the mountains and laughing about Borgy, and Greg Brady calling me "Baby." It felt like all those nights of working at my parent's restaurants, sitting in the back booth after closing, laughing at all the characters we had to smile and bullshit throughout the dinner service.

Sunday was spent having another of Dr. Sylvia's old co-workers coming up to Sorenberg to have lunch at a hotel I use to work at. I really wasn't looking forward to another round of shtick, but we were going to one of my favorite restaurant's in Switzerland, and Sylvia promised me I could order what ever I wanted, so I went. The Doctor's co-worker was fine, but his wife came off as a challenge. Luckily, after years of working retail, and having to woo difficult middle aged women, I have developed a variation of my shtick that is more or less always leaves them saying, "Don't ever change! You are going to go places!" which always leaves me wanting to do the exact opposite. After four hours of saying the right thing and making Doctor Sylvia look good,(at one point the woman turned to Sylvia and said, "You know, I hope you are proud of your daughter.") I was tired and felt nothing short of cheap and fake. If only they knew I was a totally asshole who was going to later blog about scamming them. The things I do for the love of my mother.

Now I sit in my nearly empty apartment, with four more days in Luzern. I am pretty sure if I wasn't so stressed with moving, and annoyed with still having to work, I would be sad to depart. It would also probably help if I had friends here, but seeing how I let them go a while ago, my good-byes are few and far between. I am going to miss my desk chair, the solitude of my apartment, Pilatus, the lake, etc. Redwood city hasn't got shit on Luzern, but it's time to go, start the next chapter.

After Saturday I will be residing at my grandparents in Basel for a week, then MFP is coming and we are going to Vienna, Prague and Budapest for ten days. I booked the trip, and we are both very excited to go. Although Chung and Skipper are amazing travel buddies (Chung because she is Chung, and Skipper because she always seems to pack a suitcase full of chaos in mayhem), but MFP is THE ONLY person who is not only insanely flexible, but can calm me down from an anxiety attack with a hand massage and expertly chosen words. The girl is a goddamn yogi. I am going to do my best to blog it and redeem myself as the blogger I once was.

Whew, I don't think I have typed this much in weeks! Hope you enjoyed it Skipper, this one was for you.

So not proof-read, but I spell-checked with love.

Like Smoke Through A Keyhole

I have had blogs going through my head for the past few weeks, but every time I sit down to my keys and type, it just doesn't work. I hope I will post this though. I know there are the few tried and true who still check this page, and need something to breakup the work day. Life is crazy at the moment, I am coming upon my last week at work and living in my apartment/Luzern. Things are stressful and today was a bad day. Dr. Sylvia and I need to haul both her luggage and all my crap to Basel by next Sunday and it's looking like none of our family is going to help us with a car so we are going to have to "train-it"/carry it. At this point it doesn't look like I will be making any great gesture as I leave Luzern, I love this city: it's building, lake, streets, parks, benches, bridges, and my heart clenches of having to go. The only part of me that is glad to leave, is the part that knows I can no longer stay. for once in my life there will be no grand exit, I have worked hard to fade into the background for two years now, and I feel confident that I am leaving on good terms, my own terms.

Too Many Flies

I’m sitting outside in the rain, listening to cow bells and trying not to get my slippers wet. Chef Doug, Dede, and Skipper all left this morning, and I am now left chillin’ with a crippled Dr. Sylvia, in Sorenberg. I worked a full week last week, and started to move out furniture and start sorting through my things. Luckily my very tolerant (minus Dede who rightfully put me in my place yesterday, who I then rightfully wanted to punch afterwards) are hauling my wardrobe, collection of journals, books, dvds and comforters, back to California for my ever nearing arrival. I don’t know what it is about moving that turns me into the ungreatful-bitch-from-hell, but in my heart I am truly aware of how awful I am and how loving and patient my family and friends are (thanks guys).

So I am now left with less then three weeks at my work, and then a nice month of traveling, smoking, and basking in my last few moments over here. I plan on making the most of it and really just absorb the beauty that Switzerland and Europe afford me. Although I am at peace with leaving, I don’t really galvanize at the thought of my move back home (or at least not at this very moment, I have been really flip-flopping on the whole thing lately). This whole moving back in with my parents, not having a job, but having bills to pay, the whole been-gone-for-five-years thing, it’s all just a bit daunting. On the other hand, the whole concept of having a fresh start and having an actual trade, is pretty damn cool. I am a huge pussy when it comes to fearing the unknown.