Engagement Party in Syracuse--October 28,2006

When we first booked our tickets back in July, the frequent flier restrictions required us to use our return tickets by the October 26th, otherwise we would have to forfeit them. Knowing we'd have to go home for the marathon on November 5, we were left with no choice but to spend 10 days back Stateside.

While not ideal, my mother decided it would be as good a time as any for an engagement party in Syracuse, an opportunity to celebrate with a bunch of people I grew up with.

As another little perk, my Uncle Richard (or Rick, depending on who you ask) would be in Rhode Island for business through the end of that week, and was able to make the short drive. It was really nice to see him again as it had been well over a year, and its always fun to see him keep my Gram and Dad on their toes.

Here's Richard pestering Gram over lunch at the Original Dinosaur BBQ:


The party set up was very nice. Vinnie, son of Jean (who works in my parents office) did the spread. In addition to his appetizers and deserts, Jaren and I smuggled back 5 different types of local Swiss cheese and roughly 7 pounds of Swiss chocolate (including a sugar free bar for Gram, of which she was most appreciative). The chocolate was then melted down and put into a fountain, and we proceeded to dip everything imaginable (fruit, cookies, muffins, spoons) into it.


The party itself was a whirlwind. Most of the guests were neighbors, friends of my folks and people from the synagogue (and in most cases, those groups overlapped). It was great to see so many folks I hadn't seen in years, in some cases approaching a decade. By the end, it started to feel like a press junket, with everyone wanting answers to the same three questions:

So tell me about the wedding?

So tell me about Switzerland?

So tell me about Africa?

It went by very quickly, and we were pretty wiped out after wards. To cool down, we decided to eat a bunch more, which became a running theme for the rest of the Syracuse time.

London -- October 26, 2006

During our first trip over, all Jaren wanted during our 24hr. layover in London was Fish and Chips. Fish and Chips, Fish and Chips, Fish and Chips -- all she would talk about. When our flight disaster ended up eliminating our London excursion, she was bitterly disappointed. Now having a 12 hour layover, we wouldn't let the opportunity pass us by again.

Arriving in London shortly after dinnertime, out connection was not until 8am the next day. Rather than put out the cash for a hotel room we'd barely sleep in, we hatched a plan to enjoy a bit of London and then hang out in the airport until our flight.

We landed in Gatwick, hopped on the Gatwick Express into town and started our chip shop hunt.

After an aborted attempt to find the White Horse in Sloane Square (an old stomping ground), we had a pint at a local pub but quickly left when the place was overrun by 16 year olds with shaggy hair.

Still on the prowl for fried fish, we wandered around until we stumbled on another pub with a sadly closed kitchen. The barmaid recommended a little chip shop around the corner, which we quickly found and put in our order. The Romanian guy behind the counter was kinda drunk and very funny, and made the experience that much better.



Bellies full of fried food, we headed back to the last pub (with the closed kitchen) for another pint, and then skipped back around the corner to Victoria Station.

Once back at Gatwick, we had to find a suitable place to set camp. We were clearly not the only ones sleeping in the airport as the place looked like a refugee camp for travellers. We finally set down, Jaren grabbed a strip of bench, and I found a plug. See, Game 3 of the World Series was that day, and I by good fortune/ dumb luck was up at that very odd hour. However, it was not to be -- St. Louis was beset by tremendous storms and the game was called. Instead, I put my head under the bench Jaren was sleeping on and had a very nice 3 hour nap.

Morning came, and in the local vernacular "Prochain Arret, Syracuse."

Swimming in the Lake -- October 24, 2006

During a recent phone conversation with my folks, I was explaining how the lake is a recreation source for the Genevoise in addition to being a visual attraction. At any time sailors, water skiiers, fisherman and swimmers can be seen enjoying the cool waters on this glacial lake. "Glacial lake," chimed in my father, "isn't that kind of, well, COLD?"

Someone had told me at one point that the shape of the lake (kidney bean) and the location of Geneva (furthest point west from the glacial source) made the lake a bit warmer at this end. Trying to make sure I wouldn't have to eat my foot, I even did a bit of research (full report on water surface temperatures from the European Geosciences Union can be found here).

However, after spending a good bit of time, researching the topic, Jaren raised a very good point -- "Sure its cold, but that doesn't mean the locals aren't f*#$ing crazy enough to swim in it anyway." Touche.

So with that and mind we decided to take a proper dip, add ourselves the the ranks of the nutjobs. I can tell you this, we were lucky it was a sunny day, and the water was indeed frigid.






We both had a bit of trouble getting our lungs to expands as our muscles were a bit tight, but other than that we did get comfortable after a bit.



Besides, with swimming partners like these, how could you not have a good time.


After our dip, we dried up and packed ourselves a bit of a picnic. Sitting on the rocks, we let the waves lap up on our feet and enjoyed the sun a bit longer.

Neuchâtel -- October 21, 2006

After our leisurely morning, we hopped back on the train and headed to the far side of Lake Neuchâtel to the namesake city. We had had several recommendations to see it, a town with a ton of character, both new and old.

With a lake much smaller than Lake Geneva, the water tends to warm up to higher surface temperatures making Neuchâtel an ideal summer resort town (we've been reading a ridiculous amount on lake temperatures lately). The rest of the year it is a University town, meaning that behind the tourist services there are tons of youth-geared bars, restaurants, art galleries, etc... , and is topped out with an seven century old "Old Town" (who are we kidding, every city town in village in Europe has some sort of "Old Town") with narrow cobblestone roads, statues aplenty and buildings older than our country that have been retrofitted for modern convenience.

The first thing we encountered getting off the train was the Maison la Poste (Post Office), a building that encapsulated Neuchâtel's unique architectural quirk, the yellow-ish sandstone facades on a majority of the public buildings, driving one famous writer whose name I forget to comment that the city looks like it was carved out of butter.



I couldn't help but be ceaselessly entertained by this building, for a couple of reasons. First, just comparing this building to the post offices in similarly sized towns back home floored me. Against the small, utilitarian structures back home, this was absolutely a lakeside palace.


Second, encircling the top of the building were carvings of country names that were apparently important at the time of construction (in French). Present were the usual suspects (France, Germany, UK, Belgium, Netherlands, Denmark, Spain, Portugal, Austria, Norway, Greece, Czech), a smattering of the eastern empires (Romania, Serbia, Montenegro, Turkey, Russia, Croatia), and what were at the time a smattering of spots on the globe (Japan, China, US, Mexico, Peru, Brazil, Chili -- as it was spelled -- and South Africa). I made Jaren stand in front of that post office for 20 minutes while I tried to process what was the logic in selecting these countries, not able to come up with a damn thing.

Ok, enough about the post office (honestly, who devoted a couple hundred words to a post office). We headed to old town for a walk through the ancient streets, ducking down back alleys and trying to peer into courtyards that were hidden from the street. It was Saturday, so the shops and markets on the main streets were bustling with the locals out for the day.



We made the trek up an intentionally steep street into the true old heart of town - the castle/ church/ fort/ prison tower complex where the center of cantonal authority once sat. And it did not disappoint, looking like it was straight off a medieval movie set. Furthermore, it provided spectacular views of the city and lake.





On our way back down, we hit up a coffee shop for a quick pick-me-up, and then made our way down to the shore. Admittedly, I'm a sucker for watching sailboats, and this was the perfect day to just plop down and watch.





A bit early for dinner, we decided to hit up a little wine cave for an aperitif.



One very good Swiss red later, we were off to dinner. On the menu tonight was going to be something local, eschewing the abundance of Italian restaurants in favor of something more Swiss. We settled in at Le Jura alongside a bunch of locals straight out of central casting -- everybody looking like a quintessential French farmer. Oh, and one major difference with the US is that it is perfectly acceptable to bring dogs of any size into a restaurant, tie them to the table and go about your business. There were a good three or four during our stay, just hanging out.

We played cards and had a beer until the kitchen opened, enjoyed a fabulous meal of mussels and fondue (click for more), and soaked up the experience.

After dinner, we made our way to the train station to head home. Having 20 minutes to kill, we grabbed a couple of .75CHF beers from the convenience store, played card a bit longer, then made our way home.





Overall, I would have to say Neuchâtel was one of my favorite European experiences - a perfect balance of old and new, tucked in between the mountains and the lake. Highly recommended for anyone traveling through.

Yverdon-les-Bains--October 21, 2006

We decided to take one more day trip before heading stateside for a week, but we had no idea where to go. After doing a bit of research in our Switzerland guide books, we were set to go to the canton of Vaud to two small towns on the shores of Lake Neuchatel: Yverdon-les-bains and Neuchatel. Our first stop was Yverdon-les-bains.

Yverdon is a town with history linked to the Roman times. The Romans settled in Yverdon and found naturally heated pools, which they created into baths. The relaxing tradition of spending the day in geothermal pools (baths, really) remains today. We thought a few hours of swimming in a naturally-heated pool for some R&R would be good for us.

Before heading to the baths, we walked through old town. The Saturday morning market was in full swing. We examined the local products--cheese, wine, vegetables, fruits--any market staples and enjoyed the charming buildings.




To give you an idea:

The baths looked like over-sized hot tubs. You enterd inside going under plastic curtains that took lead to the outside pools.


There were 2 large pools, with different temperatures. One was an average of 34 degrees Celcius, the other was much cooler.


Inside was one bath that seemed to be the kiddy pool.


After about 2 hours in the bains (and looking like prunes) we decided to get on with the day...next stop, Neuchatel.

The Bike

Geneva is a really bike firendly city. Every street has a bicycle lane (and drivers respect, unlike some other places we've lived). Every street corner has racks, every building has accomodations in the foyer, and its not unusual to see people in full business dress on a bike.

Given Jaren's commute (a good half hour walk), we agreed that it made sense to get ourselves a cheap bike. After trolling the message boards and a few pawn shops, we found one -- a gorgeous early 80's French-made Peugeot "city style."

We're really excited about it. I mean REALLY excited. So much so, I felt the need to make a 30-second commercial trailer for it (WARNING: There is Sound. If you're messing around at work, consider yourself warned).



It's a little big for Jaren (or Jaren is a little small for the bike, depending on how you look at it) , but the price was right and we'll make it work.

A few more pictures for the record:

Carouge--October 15, 2006

We took our Saturday afternoon walk near Planpalais and somehow kept walking north to the neighboring town of Carouge. It was a beautiful fall day and the sun was shining. We crossed over the Rhone River and entered old town Carouge.

Here is the main street. It looks like something out of Disneyland--a charming old European city that is charming because it is old.

We continued walking through the narrow streets.



A quick video of one of the streets.



Here is a still on the Old Canal Road. It is a tree lined park street, as you can see.






And here is the central chuch in the heart of the town square. Who's the statue of? Well, we forgot, but I can guarantee that his is important for some reason.
Just on the other side of the church we sat down at a cafe and attempted to play backgammon. More on that later.

To see more pictures of Carouge, click HERE

From there, we headed back to Geneva center and the Parc de Bastions for more backgammon in the sun. A good day all around.

Ho Hum

It can't be candy and fireworks all the time, and we can't tell of fantastic adventures on a weekly basis. At some point, life in Geneva was going to shift from being a new adventure into something more akin to, well, life. Jaren's working, I'm waiting on my papers and doing some networking, and routine has become part of our story here.

Of course, that doesn't mean interesting things don't happen. In fact, I would say we have a much better appreciation of the city, and although it may not blog well, we'll do our best to beam it your way.

The big news is that we found an apartment for the long term. As you may or may not know, our current place is a sublet through the end of October, for which we needed to find another place for November on. After scowering the UN message boards, Jaren found a posting for a place about two blocks from where we are now (much closer to the lake) that fits us perfectly. The third story, it is an apartment with an abnormally large kitchen by local standards and has more windows than walls. We were able to close a deal with relative ease, and will be moving in as soon as we return from New York.

Ah yes, New York. We'll be flying out of Switzerland late on the 25th and arriving back in Syracuse around dinner on the 26th. After spending a few days in the 'Cuse with the family, we'll be off to NYC around November 2nd for the marathon. Training is going well so far -- Jaren is up to double digit mileage on a regular basis, and my sign holding practice is nearing its training "peak" (takes stamina to hold the sign while simultaneously cheering and eating a hot dog). We're flying back out that night (not optimal, but neccesary), and then we're here through next spring.

We're going to try a new feature here at Jaren's Blog called "Geneva Corner," where we give you, the reader, a look at some facet of our daily life. Some of the "GCs" we're planning include:

- "Migros The Flame-thrower," an in-depth look at the Swiss grocery/ banking/ gas/ education/ department store conglomerate (special points for anyone who can identify the movie paraphrase)

- "Emmenthaler: Local Delicacy or Lactose Terrorist?" reporting on Steve's adaptation to a dairy-heavy lifestyle

- "Moped Drivers are People Too," a survey of the ubiquitous Swiss transport vehicle and the people who drive them.

We'll try to get one of these up at least once a week, hopefully with photos (provided I don't end up in "Migros the Holding Cell" for taking them).

In the mean time, here are a few pictures we've taken recently. Enjoy!

The oft-discussed Cafe Gandhi


Smart Car Deluxe - I'd never seen one before, but have a hunch this would be more accepted in the US market than the little box zipcars we're all used to. This one is still pretty tiny though.



Over in Plainpallais - hey, whatever keeps Schwimmer flush in cash, I guess (actually, this place had free wireless and I spent a few days there).

HELP S'il Vous Plait

Friends, blog readers, lend me you ears.

Longer and more regular postings are forthcoming -- we promise we've been working on them and should have them up shortly.

However, we need your help America (and parts of Canada, and Luxembourg for that matter). While Steve waits for his work papers, he's been working hard on materials for our wedding weekend. I mean really working hard -- blood, sweat and tears hard. Coalminers look at him with pity in their eyes, knowing how hard he's got it (ok, maybe an exaggeration, but still...)

To that end, he needs pictures. Lots of them. We've taken a lot, and our folks have been scanning like deamons, but its still not enough.

What we're looking for are pictures of the bride and groom, both seperately and together, to be included in a booklet and retrospective slideshow.

Sweet moment - perfect.
Silly costume - bring it on.
Fall down drunk - entirely possible.

Moreover, we need pictures of us with you. The more the merrier.

Send what you've got to smschwartz@lycos.com, and Steve will be in your debt for ever. Prizes include fleeting fame at the wedding and our eternal graditude.

Oktoberfest! -September 30, 2006

Casting all tradition and language disparities aside, Oktoberfest is essentially the State Fair with six of the world’s largest beer gardens smack dab in the middle. We took some pictures, but are including others gathered from the interweb to give you, the reader, a better feel for the festival.

The picture below shows one of the major arteries at the festival. This is the one with the beer halls off of it, one of which is visible at the top left of the picture.



If that combination of gravity defying funhouse rides and strong lager isn't just an invitation for someone to toss their cookies, I don't know what is.

Very cool church off in the distance, and there was an excellent massive structure with a statue of a woman holding some sort of wreath of hops off to the left of where this was shot.

Here is a better pic of the legendary beer halls. Remember, these things are enormous- easily bigger than your average high school football stadium in Texas.



Here are a few pictures of the exteriors, which were very ornate, including a talking mechanical lion at the Lowenbrau hall.



Just for fun, a few others:

Spaten


Hofbrau


Augusteiner


And the interiors were exactly as you've seen them in movies -- massive halls with rows of long tables, sunbeams coming in the overhead windows making their way through the smoke, oompah bands, people standing on tables and singing -- just classic.



Below is a scene repeated 10,000 times while we were there. The servers just grab a dozen mugs, walk up to a table and start selling. You have no bill, just pay per litre.





(For the record, neither of our servers looked like this. One was a middle aged man with a giant mole on his chin. The other was a prototypical Bavarian woman in her mid-60s, that is to say she was a fleshy bowling ball with legs).

The scene is set, so let's get to the fun stuff, Jaren and Steve at Oktoberfest. Smartly attired in traditional Bavarian clothing, we arrived at the grounds about 2PM. It was a mild, sunny day, which was certainly a relief considering I was wearing thick leather over 50% of my body. We made a point of not going too nuts too fast, and decided to survey the land before we chose our spot. After 45 minutes of watching aged men out-drink their younger counterparts, and young girls in traditional dress flirting with anything that moved, we decided we were thirsty ourselves. First stop, the Pschorr hall.

One of the first things you notice are the lines out of the halls. What you won't see are doors opening. Sadly, it took us the better part of the afternoon to figure this out. We waited in line at Pschorr, and again at Augusteiner. Would we have preferred to be inside? Sure. But the lines were usually conveniently located next to the outdoor beer gardens, where we had easy access to lager. So we waited and drank, and waited and drank, and had a chance to chat some folks up -- sort of.

Jaren in line


Steve waiting, Bavarian-style




You see, while the German's love and support Oktoberfest as the harvest celebration it is, it seems the better part of Northern Italy has latched onto the festival as an opportunity to get obnoxiously drunk and sing soccer chants (I don't know if this was just an extension of the World Cup, and that being on German soil brought swelling feelings of pride, but they sang their hearts out).

I'm telling you they were everywhere in high fashion, tossing attitude to anything that moved, and as an American in lederhosen I seemed like a magnet for sneers. Not that I cared of course, as we looked freekin' awesome -- but I just couldn't get over an overwhelming urge to headbutt someone in the sternum.

After a while, we decided to forgo entrance into a hall (a good move as we later found out they were reservation only). So we found ourselves a nice seat in the Pschorr garden, and got to the matter at hand.



Shortly after finding our seats, we were joined by two very cool Munich natives Ranier and Thomas. These guys had been coming since they were kids, and had all sort of key info for us. They told us how the halls had become this big tourist thing, and the locals sit outside in the gardens. They also told us the price of beer has doubled in the last 5 years, much to their shagrin. We told them a bit about home (Thomas had been to Seattle), and we talked about Bundesliga soccer (they were clearly Beyern Munchen fans, and not big supporters of Landon Donovan as a result). This truly felt like what Oktoberfest was supposed to be.

Steve and Ranier giving a Prost!


Jaren and Thomas


These guys were great, and we had a very good time with them. What we sort of forgot, though, was to eat! (although we did get a giant pretzel to do some soaking up). Gone was the opportunity for oxtail stew and braised schwein knuckle, and schnitzel and herring. The kitchens were closed, and we were out of luck.



About this same time, it also became apparent that we should probably not have any more beer. On the positive side, I was remembering German words I had forgotten long ago. On the negative side, I was talking to anyone and anything who moved. After a brief stop at the pissoir (seriously, that's what they're called), we were making our way to the bus. Side note: the inventor of lederhosen really knew their stuff. Not only does the suspender/no belt combo create incredible comfort, the design of the fly-area is essential for any activity that involves half-a-dozen liters of lager. Covering the zipperless fly is a 5x5" flap, which can be conveniently dropped for all of your liquid disposal needs. Honestly, I'm never buying pants without the flap again. But I digress.

Here we are, back on the bus to Thalkirchen (surprisingly), giving up one big "Two for the Road" to Oktoberfest.



Let's see, how do I put this diplomatically? Shortly after this picture was taken, Jaren "took a bit of a nap" on the bus, and I watched Munich wizz by while my head and stomach "relived fond memories of State Fairs rides past." Everybody made it back in one piece, and we quickly climbed into the back of the Opal to sleep things off.

The next morning came as a bit of a shock to our systems, and we groggily made our way out of the campgrounds, onto the autobahn and back to Geneva. We did have a chance to stop at what was easily the nicest highway rest stop I've ever seen -- real glasses, plates and silverware for dining it, food choices that included a pasta bar and a roast beef station (and no McD's or BK, although there was a fried fish place, but no drive through). Not kidding, it was like having a hotel restaurant right off the highway.

After spending most of the ride re-hydrating, we arrived home. After two nights of sleeping in a car, the platform bed in our apartment was heavenly, and we both managed to catch near 11 hours of sleep.

Prost!