Swiss Travel Log

Day 1.

I've finally arrived in Switzerland.  The best part?  Land.  The flight out of Brussels was an unusually harrowing experience.  Not only were we the last flight to leave the airport that night, but there were only twelve of us on the plane, plus the crew.  As night flights go, this one was particularly turbulent.  All in all, I couldn't sleep, I barely ate, and I spent the entire flight wondering whether when we crashed, my body would be found burned up, mangled or not at all.  And how the headlines might read - Swiss Air crashes in the mountains.  Thankfully, only 16 dead - but no survivors.

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Quick, quick, must catch the train!  My thoughts after calming down at Basel Euroairport. This place has exits into three countries (Switzerland, France, Germany).  Not sure how they pull that off, but the bus awaits!

Fun with google maps

Here's a breakdown of the main stops for the current long trip I'm on.  I'lll be on the road from the 15th of November to the 8th of December.


View Larger Map

Swiss cheesy road trip

Here's a breakdown of next week's stages of my switzerland trip.  We'll be spending a LOT of time in the mini-bus.  Whoo (not so much).
View Larger Map

How to stalk me

Lesson 1:

Get access to google calendar, and ask me to make my calendar visible to you.  Then any time you go to my blog, you'll be able to see where I am in the snazzy calendar gadget to the right of the screen.

On the road again

I was all too grateful for the past week's breather at home, in my own bed.  Which is probably why I did my level best to stay in it as much as possible.  That, and the fact I have no chair in my room.

Now, I've once again hit the road, as the prospect of financial incentives (aka, money, cash, gimme-gimme-gimme) is hard to resist.  Next stop, Brussels.  Then Switzerland (4-5 cities in all, plus daily road-trips).  Then Budapest.  Followed, in theory for now, by Prague.  Then Paris for about 2 days, tops.  Then Brussels again.  And then, maybe, a bit of time off.  None too soon.

There was even the possibility I might fly off to Tunis again, instead of Prague.  This way I score fewer airmiles, which I do so love (yes, I see the George Clooney analogies too) but get to travel in a slightly more coherent way.  Slightly.

Signing off for now!  Oh, and free wifi in first class on the train is lovely.  As is the onboard meal.

A month (or two) in retrospect

You might be wondering what mischief I've been up to these last few months, mischief that's kept me from posting more detail-rich entries about my wanderings.

Well, wandering (mostly fincancially remunerated wandering) really sums it up.  I've been on the road for what seems like more than half of the last two months.

In September, I came back to Paris from Toronto.  Then later, I spent a few days in Brussels, a week and a half in Luxembourg, and about a week in Budapest.  That was all in September.

In October, I came back to Paris from Budapest, then spent about a week in Tunisia, a week in Paris which included a 13-hour interpreter-insomnia marathon at the television station, then a few days in Brussels, followed by a few days in Marseille.  Then I went off to Budapest again.  For a trip that was supposed to last a week.

Only come November, after spending a week-end in Budapest (to which I got by way of Bratislava, silly me), I get called back to Tunisia (by way of Paris, naturally).  I spent this entire week in Paris (hurray!), but next week I'm off to Brussels, from where I'll then be flying on to Basel, and road-tripping around switzerland (again, thankfully, in a professional capacity).  I'll be with the Swiss for about a week and a half.  Then it's off to Budapest for a long-weekend.  I'll be back in Paris at the very, very end of the month.  In all, I'll have spent one week here.  Kinda makes the rent I pay seem a bit less worthwhile, but at least I get to come back home every so often.

So that's the rapid-fire road report.  Tune in next time (whenever that ends up being) for more in-depth coverage of the different segments of my tongue-tripping! (bad pun based on the fact that I travel thanks to my linguistic skills).

Glee!

Watch the series.  It's incredible.  Loving it.

Expression of the day

Talk is cheap, but so am I.

A tale of two cities

Yesterday Budapest, today Tunis.  The life of an international man of mystery, indeed.

Must make a point of writing my blog entries even when no internet connection is available, as otherwise it gets difficult finding the time.

Reminder to self

Things I need to write about:

- slaughterhouses
- luxembourg
- Hammamet and Tunisia
- Marseille
- Ryanair

Awake, bored but cashing in

It's 4:30 am. I'm at the offices of a french TV news channel.  We've been here since 0h30.  Still haven't worked for so much as 30 seconds.  Just told we have to stick it out longer.  Which means more money.  But also more time without sleep.

Later today I'll be giving my first class at my former university.  That'll be funny, considering how utterly zonked I'm going to be.  And afterwards I come right back here for some more "work".  Hopefully we will eventually get to interpret.  There's a pleasant, collegial and relaxed atmosphere - hard to imagine anything else at this time of night (and with a strike going on throughout the country as a bonus!)

I don't know whether I'm still making sense.  I don't think it's a requirement at this hour anymore.  The only legitimate reason for being up at this hour is to go fishing.

Pleasantly pickled in Paris

...and not on plonk!  I left today for my first non-European interpreting mission.  Destination, sunny Tunisia, with a weather forecast calling for 29 degrees.  The location, Hammamet, a resort town on the Mediteranean.

The challenge, not missing my flight.  Which doesn't seem so bad, until you see my track-record with airports.

Things started off reasonably well.  I left home a mere twenty minutes behind schedule, and knowing that there was a problem with the urban train going to the airport.  But then again, when isn't there something in Paris?  Today it was just a ten to fifteen minute delay due to a sick passenger.  Happens every day!  Of course, it didn't keep me from fretting.  But since I only took carry-on items, and not many at that, the suitcase was light and I could speed along at a good clip.

I caught a break, too, when the next train to board was an express to the airport, covering the distance in only 20 minutes.  Jackpot!  I thought, I made up for my late departure!

But no, of course it wasn't going to be that easy.

First step, the boarding card.  The type of reservation meant that I needed to got to a check-in counter and couldn't bypass the whole process through automation.  Fantastic.  Fortunately, there was no line-up, and as an added bonus, the staff-member who helped me out let me know that my ticket gave me access to... the Lounge!

Now for those of you unfamiliar with the Lounge, it is that swanky-looking room that you sometimes sneak passing glances into but can never enter.  Entry requires you to either pay a hefty fee at the door, or to have a so-called Premium ticket.  Even then, not every flight entitles you to free access.  So being the greenhorn interpreter that I am and being told my ticket provided the privilege was like winning the lottery.

...to be cont.

Burg em Lux

aka city of many cheese factories and slaughterhouses.  At least, that's what I'm going to be seeing this trip.

Sounds fun and exciting? Yes! Gory and disturbing?  Probably!  Well-payed and edifying?  No doubt!

Mozzarella made this morning, as it turns out, is delicious.  Not so surprising, but still yummy.  Ditto for fresh ricotta.  That was today.  Tomorrow it'll be not one, but two slaughterhouses.  Hope they have good overalls.  And maybe barf-bags.  Or nose plugs.  And goggles.  And... ah, I guess we'll see how it goes.

Work's taking me to all sorts of new places!  Yippee! (honestly, the cheese factory was really neat).

I feel like I'm 12 again.

At Pearson airport

Here we are, plopped into a chair at Toronto's terminal 1.  Why, you ask?

Because there isn't a drop of whisky worth tasting at the so-called Bacardi tasting station.  All the more galling, given the gallons of perfectly respectable whisky on the shelves of the duty-free boutique.  Whisky which you couldn't open for hours or days, even if you bought it here.  Frustrating?  Yes.  A strong statement for sensible sobriety?  Fiddle-sticks.  The only thing left to do, is to browse, drink water, and wait through the endless line-up for boarding.

Because about half the passengers on any given flight think they have "special" seats, that are in every row, so they can board any time.  Making the queues that much longer.  Good thing there's finally free wireless internet here!  It only took ten years more than in Europe.  That's innovation!  Canadian telecom style!

Heard it through the grape vine

Confucious said:

The sour grapes ripen into the grapes of wrath,
...you alkie.

Zooom -> Paris

T-22 hours.

Let's cross our fingers and hope for no airport mishaps, delays, lost baggage, and quick customs and baggage returns.  But I have no reason to expect those.  Never happened to me before.

C'mon Air Canada, don't let me down!

This marks the end of my Canadian summer.  It was warm, verging on hot.  Cozy, verging on lethargic.  Delicious, verging on sinful.  And all-around terrific, save for the fact that I was far from Europe.  A friend suggested earlier today that Canada should just join Europe.  I second that motion.  We're more european than the Brits, anyways.  The French influence and all.  Plus the Italians, Portuguese, and all the rest.

Oh, and it was the summer of Starcraft 2.  I temporarily turned into a micro-managing, move-my-probe-into-your-base-ing computo-zombie.  Aaah, exercise.

Le geek, c'est chic!

or how my new favourite movie is Scott Pilgrim vs The World!

Wonderful, funny, geeky beyond belief, it hit all the right notes in my geeky past.  Video games, role-playing games, pseudo-goth, ninjas, sword-play, rock'n-roll, and it was not only filmed in Toronto, it's actually SET in Toronto!

Viva le geek!

France, dammit

So it turns out that in spite of my Canadian/Romanian citizenships, I am still working illegally here (probably).  Isn't that great?  I've been paying taxes for the last, oh, 9 months now, but an illegal immigrant.  Whoo!

And when do I get to find this out?  After having worked again a little today.

It's the thought that counts.  The mind-boggling, administrative-minded thought.  Prepare yourself for an incredible odyssey through administrative hassle!  I'm already dreading it.

Today at the Elysee

Good thing we're all mooving in the right direction... aren't we?  The president hard at work to support young farmers.

Love

Love makes you forget that you're alone. When love moves away, loneliness returns. When love comes back, you suddenly have no time for anything else. But you just don't care.

Substitute drinking alcohol, sports, work, or any other obsessive activity for love, and the above holds true.

Stay alone long enough, you begin to go crazy. And it feels good. It feels like you find yourself.

Stay together long enough, and you don't want to find yourself again. You'd rather be a couple, a totally different type of beast.

Paris, dammit

Because using profanity in a title is cool.

Hurray, I'm back! (heavy sarcasm)
Alright, what happened? I'm back from budapest (for good, but it ain't). It's hot, sticky and muggy. The city hates you. The people all feel like if they didn't walk directly in your way, you wouldn't get the GENUINE paris experience. Oh, and who could forget the delightful metro, with its urine-perfumed stairs, which seem to go down only so they can swing right back up 10 meters on. Who designed this city? M.C. Escher?

On a happier note, I get to see my friends, who make me forget that paris sucks. It is so nice to walk down the street after 8 pm and not have to fight through throngs. And they do have some great meatshacks (kebabs). Vive la republique.

Get busy living...

or get busy dying. The Shawshank Redemption is such a wonderful movie. A bit trite, but just terrific. Also good is the Family Guy knock-off (part of the "3 Kings" episode).

God-damn right, like Morgan Freeman's character said.

In other news

Last week-end was terrific. My friend Nathalie was here, the four of us went strolling, to see old soviet statuary, to the baths and to see a ballet at the opera. It was all lovely.

Well, nearly all. What I just wrote is what we had wanted to do. Thing is, whenever old soviet ANYTHING gets thrown into the mix, things start to go a little Kraaaazy.

... More to the story after work (yes, even though it's saturday)

Flat-tired

Work work work. And it's so nice out! I have many more inane things to say. I'll save them (maybe they'll add up and pay inaneterest).

Horrible pun of the day ...check

In less frivolous news, I'm genuinely wondering where I'll live from the fall. Paris? In theory, yes. But there's also Budapest as a maybe. And then there's Brussels, where I hope I'll often be (for work).

I have 3 projects going simultaneously. Two of them literally. So, no week-end for me! (As if I'd really skip time to loaf around and goof off.)

Wien and Pruckel

Our stalwart adventurer and his faithful flame are in Wien (Vienna for short) for a few days of relaxing, following a stressful week of holiday lollygagging and dilly-dallying.

Stay tuned for the cake report. On the list of required eats, the Sacher Torte, of course. So far, we've eaten chinese (at a restaurant called Yellow), and Langos (fried bread hungarian-style) at the fair-grounds. Health is still at the top of our list of priorities.

Fun with flaming rods

- and how idiot-proofing has deprived us of our inalienable right to be a walking fire hazard.

Traditions are fun. Yesterday, I participated in a torch-lit march. Not candlelit, oh no. Here in transylvania, where the threat of vampires and werewolves - and thus lynch mobs - is never too distant, they actually give out lit torches to any takers (the more the merrier!) to hold as you walk through town. Listening to rock operas about hungarian history. Best. Historical. Commemoration. Ever.

To my slight disappointment, no one got so much as singed. No low-hanging branches lit. And no marshmallows! Still, it's fun walking through town with your very own burning torch. Just imagining all of the mayhem you're not going to cause (but you could - but you won't... but you could) gives you a sense of pride in not causing it (cause you could).

This is how WE celebrate a revolution! Suck on that July 14th parade! Now if you occasionally shot something out of the tanks, THAT would be co-memorable.

Oh, and for some reason I was later doused with palinka. I guess it's festive, no? I'm just glad that the torches were all gone by then.

Living it up in Romania

Sooo...

Schnapps (aka Palinka, aka Tuica) for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And after dinner. And before bed-time.

Along with loads of delicious farm-grown home-made food. Good think I'm only staying a week-end! It's great seeing the family.

Oh, and of course the palinka is only to fight the budding cold I'm getting (and that half my family already has).

Seriously, it's against the cold. I don't know the rest of the country, but hot-damn it's great over on this end!

Head-lines

Hung parliament looms as Tory support crumbles

Guardian/ICM survey shows hung parliament is real possibility as Conservative vote falters

from the Guardian UK's website. Those sexy brits!

Addicted to the internet

I know, I know, not a new phenomenon-menon-menon (bum-bah, buh-bah-bah).

For the record, I'm killing braincells by streaming family guy, and now, How I Met Your Mother. Kiiiiiller!

Also loving Machinarium, a beautifully hand-drawn, puzzle-solving and musical video game. Along with World of Goo, for the zany cute goo-balls and the amazing things you can build with them.

Bills, bills, bills

I paid my very first hungarian bill! Hurray! It was for electricity, wasn't in my name, had a huge balance that didn't concern me, and even so was way too expensive.

I was preparing for the worst. It was due today, it was now or never. I had to go to the post office to pay it, since I don't have a hungarian bank account and checkbook. I was deathly afraid of the mind-shatteringly long queues at the post office. And yet, somehow, there was no one! Until I went to one of the counters. Then about a dozen people came in to line up. Lucky! And then I turned to the lady behind the counter. She seemed in a good mood, chatting with her co-workers. I politely said good morning, and asked whether I could pay my bill here, in cash. I apologized for being a rank beginner (a noob, as the kiddies say - properly spelled n00b). I held my breath. Here it comes, I thought. Something along the lines of, no sir, this is the wrong window. Or, sorry sir, we don't accept cash at this location. Or, sir, this can only be paid by the person who's name is on the bill, unless you have a letter and photocopies proving you're her legal agent. Something like that.

And then she smiled, passed the bill through a machine, took the money, gave me change and politely said goodbye. And I sailed right out the door. The whole thing took 5 minutes. Where am I and what have you done with my administration?

Let's call it a fluke.

Oh, and lest I forget, my bank card didn't work at the first bank I tried, and told me I needed to talk to my agency. In France. Urgently. All because I forgot my money at home. Good thing I don't listen to what bank machines tell me. The next ATM was much more accomodating.

I have arrived

Hurray, Budapest!
Hurray, huge glamorous appartment that used to belong to an army big-wig!
Hurray, getting to settle in for a solid 4-5 months!

Weight issues

Ok so I’m not the thinnest guy around.  In fact, I feel a certain pride in my culinary and gastronomic adventures.  So I was horribly offended today when, after months of radio silence – even by my doctor, who is anything but demure – I was brusquely told that I was too heavy.  Nor was this insult the end of it.  I was given an immediate ultimatum.  Find a way of losing several kilos NOW, or else.

I have to admit that my knees briefly shook, and I quavered at the vague but disastrous sound of the “or else”.  What could I do?

Fortunately, I gripped my resolve with both hands, and started sweating, straining, and even got down on my knees.  Not to plead, but to work off that weight somehow.

After a mere, yet painstaking and only slightly humiliating fifteen minutes, I managed to lose four kilos!  In fifteen minutes!  And still I looked no different than I had a short while earlier.

In summary, airport staff – and airlines - are better at weight-loss than any crazy miracle diet, nutritionist or personal trainer.  Despite losing four kilos in such a short time though, I was still overweight by a further full four kilos.  For my weight-crime, I was fined a hefty forty Euro penalty.  That’ll teach me to over-pack.  As a bonus, I gave away a twenty euro bottle of fancy pants skin cleanser to the lady at the payment counter.  Wouldn’t have been allowed on the plane, the bottle being too big.

As a final gripe, who the hell can pack two suitcases and only carry twenty-three kilos in total?  What are you carrying?  Foam pillows?

Maybe that’s the solution to obesity.  Lose weight or pay a fine.  It’s already done at airports, so it’s not revolutionary.  You can bet governments are going to consider it soon enough.  And why pay the money to some diet centre?  Just have a weight jar at home.  Set a reasonable weight loss goal.  Set a date to achieve that goal.  Set a reasonable motivational fine, say a dollar/Euro a day.  Pay the fine every day you haven’t achieved the target weight.  Once you reach the date you’ve set out, either spend the money on something nice to show off your new slimmer bod.  Or go to a fancy restaurant, to assuage the emotional trauma from the guilt and deprivation you’ve subjected yourself to.

...and finally

Off to Budapest on friday!  Meaning I'll be living here:

That's right, I'll be sleeping under upscale, premier bridges now!  Oh yeah!

also... Dammit!

Running around Paris morning, noon and night has its charms, as does moving my junk out of friend's appartments by rent-a-bike (aka Velib).  It does, really.  Not getting into accidents, life being a balancing act as you wend your way from one place to another, all highly philosophical stuff really.

But it's just not fun when you lug a heavy box a few kilometers, only to find that the rent-a-locker place is CLOSED because it's saturday and it's past 5pm.  Come on people!  Can't a guy have a life AND need to move into a cube?

Incidentally, I will now have on my business card: "proud cube lease-holder".  Cause I am.  65 Euros a month!  In Paris' scenic Marais (swamp).  Which, for those of you unfamiliar with Parisian geography, is the gay jewish ghetto.  Coincidence?

I'm on a quest!

to dream the impossible dream, to find, the impossible appartment...

but there's hope!  I may have found it!

Why is it so COLD ????

It's insane.  It's caricatural.  It's just plain bone-chilling.  And I'm talking about BRUSSELS.  Who expects -10 degrees in Brussels?  I mean sure, Canada is synonimous with howling winds, fell winters, white-outs.  But not Belgium.  Not the place who's national vegetable is the endive and an under-sized cabbage.  And just my luck, no central heating.  Come on people, global warming doesn't mean global heat-wave!

I'm back in Paris now.  Somehow I miraculously caught a train running 45 minutes late that left when mine was supposed to (as opposed to mine, which was going to be about an hour late).  Guess that's how trains are punctual these days.   And now I get to once again be homeless for another few days.  Until I fly off to Budapest.  Hurray!  Soon!  Soon, icy cold winters tempered by year-round hot springs, schnitzel and palacsinta!  A fair exchange by my reckoning.

Annnd we’re off again!

It’s been a blissfully serene hiatus. Despite the sound of that last sentence – more like a medical condition than a vacation – it’s been wonderful, restful, sinful (in indulgence) and rejuvenating. I tried a new diet called the 3HC diet – the holiday high-carb, high-calorie, cake-a-day diet. Sadly, the results were disappointing. My weight practically didn’t change! Man, I’ve got to stop trying these seasonal fads! And try marketing them instead. Anyone interested in paying me for daily 3HC diet monitoring? We’ll even supply the food (at extra cost, of course). All meals are portioned fairly – you definitely won’t be leaving the table hungry – and we even tailor the daily regimen to your specific needs. Don’t like cake? How about pie? Cookies? Fudge? Pudding? Trifle? Chocolate bonbons? Coffee-cake (an entirely different category I assure you)? Savoury pastries? I did the diet, I guarantee the results! After a month, I STILL fit into my pants! Unbelievable!

In other news, I’ve got serious departure jitters. But I’m now in the plane, so it should be alright. And if it’s not, I’m pretty much stuck. Beside a lovely blonde, to boot (to quote a Canadian). I’ve broken it down the following way:
Here:
- Adoring master chef (mom)
- Attentive feline companions x 2
- Home
- No responsibilities
- No rent
- Delicious home-made cooking
- Friends
- Sunshine
There:
- Loving if geographically challenged love-interest
- More friends
- Even more friends
- Paris (it deserves its own entry)
- Fun and exciting career
- Very good pay
- Mild winters
Tough call, huh? So I’m letting the plane make the decision for me. Very decisive vehicles, planes. Much more direct and to the point than cars and ships.
Hey, it’s time for the tutorial on buckling seat-belts! Hurray! Guess I have to go. Ciao!

Willkommen, bienvenu, welcome!

2010 will be a cabaret!  Leave your troubles at the door, revel now and drink some more.  Forget your sorrows, your doubts and your cares!  The world is yours, the time is here!

Have a spectacular, beautiful, bountiful year!