My reality is very different from that portrayed above. My salary is modest, my transport is public, my (toddler) child is schooled by loving parents and paperbacks, and furniture…well…most of our furniture still sits in the US and came from the Swedish pre-fab giant Ikea, a branch of which sits conveniently right down the street from our new apartment. And buying anew and reassembling our apartment turned out to be much cheaper than shipping over our sentimental loot from American storage.
Tis the (Swiss) season
We find ourselves now in a new season, in our new country, and a new apartment, breathing in yet another trove of experience in this whirlwind journey we call life.
Americans Celebrating the Armistice
Chilling in a French November
Stretching his legs in a brief moment of sun
Hercule Poirot is a famous product of Agatha Christie’s criminal mind. His brilliant mustache and unshakable French accent combined with the less-notable ability to solve crimes have all kept this sleuth in high regard around the world. I must admit, though: when Poirot’s accent was replaced by an actual Frenchman’s voice-over, I felt a little dirty.
These are the personal revelations one must cope with when the rain is falling on France’s countryside.
A Ferry-ride to Rapperswil
But despite this frenzy I told my wife I wanted to take a family day. I had worked the Sunday before, on short notice, and we had a little time to plan something nice. So yesterday we boarded the Helvetia, and set off to the medieval quarter of Rapperswil. (slideshow included)
Southern Migration
Except here I sit, in Zurich, and the taste of strawberry ice cream is still faintly, and expensively, on my lips.
The Zoo and the Parenting Game
It comes over you immediately after disembarking the subway–the pressure to maintain your cool as the Parenting Game begins. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to play. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t know there is a game going on.
But as the groups of families and friends rush faster and faster toward the exit, hoping to be first to pay 9 Euros to enter the zoo, you realize there is something odd here. People stare you up and down, judging you with their eyes. They look at your baby stroller and then look at their own…they must have spent 1 or 200 Euros more on their stroller and smirk with superiority.
Visiting the zoo is supposed to be a time to relax and observe animals in their natural (man-made) habitats…but our visit today turned more into a sad study into the human condition.
Our trip to the zoo was prompted by a few things, the most important and relevant being our young man’s newly-found interest in animals, and communicating with them. See a bird, and want to say something? “Caw, caw” he’ll answer. See a lion? “Rawr.” And perhaps you see a dog, or any other animal? “Bow wow” is the default, universal language for all things animal.
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