Hausfrau

Last mention...

2009-03-02T12:00:00.000-08:00

As the Sportferien (three amazing weeks of the 'sports holiday', including more magic in Chateau-d'Oex) draws to a close, Spring has already made itself known: as we walked down The Hill on the weekend the kids and I gawped, almost speechless, at a passing elderly woman who carried in her arms a sheaf of almost fluorescing, lemon wattle. DD looked at me in absolute incredulity, as if to say, 'Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Wattle? In Switzerland?!'

When we later spotted snowdrops and other bulbs pushing through the gritty remnants of snow DS, with his world-weary voice on, remarked: 'Yes, I know those. They grow in Canberra too.'

True enough, though I wonder if in Canberra right now there are trombone-wielding carnival-goers dangling cervelat sausages off balconies into cobblestone seas of confetti-speckled, clamouring and costumed children? Maybe not. This particular variation on the Fasnacht theme is something which is peculiar to Horgen, so my local pals tell me.

As we trooped down The Hill (yet again) today the rain started to bucket, but the gaggle of kids didn't seem to care, and neither did the crowd leaping to catch bread-rolls and cervelats. I saw several sausages bounce off unsuspecting heads and sad little bread-rolls getting wetter and grubbier underfoot before we finally retired to the local Migros cafeteria to recover.

Now that I find colourful confetti in underpants and shoes and hair and corners of rooms I recall this happening last year, though it didn't quite make it into the Hausfrau's blogosphere. But it seems confetti-throwing is a serious Fasnacht sport. In the larger parades - we saw the one in Zürich last year - the kids, being in the front row of onlookers - were bombarded with industrial-strength quantities of lollies and confetti, while a friend had a confetti-blower honked down her pants and up her shirt. Nothing is sacred.

And so tomorrow it'll be business as usual as the kids go back to school and we start the familiar roll-call of choir and swimming and soccer, as well as German classes for the Hausfrau. It's time to think about enrolling in activities for the new school year because yes, we are in Switzerland, and everyone is six months ahead of themselves.

I should just mention at this point that things in 2009 are in good shape for the Hausfrau: not only was she recently invited to the birthday party of a local Swiss friend, but she managed to play a full round of poker in Swiss-German.

But I guess you really know you've made it as a Hausfrau when you receive an invitation to a Swiss Tupperware party...

What is there left to say?

Vive la Hausfrau!

The Cold

2009-01-04T11:14:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I braved snow and sub-zero temperatures with my new hiking boots. The destination was the small village up and over the ridge which looms behind our apartment. The first time I was there was in summer, when DS and DD spotted a water-rat in the lake. Since then I've observed many a horse and rider trekking through the forest, as well as various water birds, dogs and even hogs.

Today, however, the place was silent, the lake frozen over. I didn't see a single bird, and the only movement was from the occasional pair of walkers or joggers as they passed. As I walked further up the hill I could feel my face growing numb, but I have to say this was nothing in comparison to our most recent excursion to Chateau-d'Oex, where the Hausfrau and family spent four magical days in what could only be described as an idyllic place to while away the hours and bring in the New Year.

As the church bells chimed midnight the Hausfrau and company wrapped themselves in blankets and stepped onto the balcony of the chalet to see flurries of fluffy snow settling on already snow-laden branches, chalet rooves, and the twinkling town in the valley below. Flashes of fireworks colour smeared the mist, totally out of sync with the explosive bangs. And as we returned to our wild and crazy New Year party - er, Scrabble game - unsecured shutters slammed, and more snowy weather moved in.

Having pooh-poohed people who go on and on about the weather, I am about to go on and on about the weather. Let me qualify: when your mouth gets so cold it can't form words properly, and when chocolate simply gets ground into a kind of chocolate pulver in your cheeks (as was the case for us when we visited the local Flumserberg slopes after Christmas with my own DB), you tend to notice that yes, it is kinda cold.

Indeed, as we skidded and crunched our way through snow at Château de Gruyères, DD and I agreed that living in a castle looked like it'd be a lot of fun (especially if you were on the set of her newest favourite tv show, Merlin), but the reality would've been kind of chilly, especially without long johns.

I personally enjoyed zooming through all the different rooms in the chateau, but was mostly taken with the amusing evidence that humans are reliably (well, apart from the odd Shaker) driven to decorate or beautify furnitures and dwellings. To add our personal touch? To warm up an otherwise cold room? Who knows. Maybe it's because we just can't help ourselves.

Warming up to Christmas

2008-11-18T11:49:00.001-08:00

As we head towards the end of 2008 at a rate of knots I've been enjoying the Christmas lights and the smell of roasting chestnuts as I wade through days of rain and – in the last 24 hours – snow. I can't help noticing the odd local teenager with handfuls of snow loitering behind trees or around corners lying in wait for unsuspecting classmates, and today on his return from school DS presented me with a super snowball; it's stored on the back deck – just in case he needs it.

I've also been making a habit of going out for a curry with my Dear Swedish Pal after our German class, and last night as we travelled down the Autobahn the pine forests were white - the whole place has really transformed, and the Hausfrau is loving it.

I did have a rather sad week last week as we had to wave farewell to the Dear Local Queen of the Babysitters (who kind of turned into the Dear Local Friend), as she has headed off to – would you believe it – Australia, to go to Uni for a year in Sydney. Yes, a sad day for the Hausfrau, who had huge fun trying her hand at the Swiss language and customs. Before the DLQB left she even found time to show me how to make Lebkuchen, traditionally eaten on 6th December to coincide with the visit of Samichlaus and Schmutzli.

Me: (as we get the Lebkuchen out of the oven) Oooh, it's kind of soft.
DLQB: Ja. It's soft. Then it goes really hard. Then by the time you eat it it's soft again.

We've been racking up the Christmas activities this year with more candle-dipping, a spot of wreath-making down at the DLQB's church, setting up the Christmas tree, and a visit to see Samichlaus and Schmutzli – actually, DS has managed to see Samichlaus three times this season, including when the Dear Amazing Kindy Teacher took the kids on a surprise visit to the local forest where Samichlaus awaited their arrival.

I had an extremely proud Hasufrau moment when we went to hear DD sing in her first concert with the Kinderchor (in the same amazing, eye-boggling church that the Hausfrau sang in). And tomorrow morning I will be lucky enough to hear both DD and DS at Adventsingen with their respective classes in another of the local churches.

And, finally, DD and I had a very Christmas-y adventure in the city when we went to see some of our younger friends perform in 'A Little Princess'. I couldn't help being reminded of special Christmas outings with my own DM when we lived in London - the lights, the snow, the mother and the daughter... I wonder if DD will remember Zürich.

But, just in case she doesn't, there's always the blog... Vive la Hasufrau!

Sweden II

2008-10-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

My Dear Swedish Pal had a mission while we were in Sweden: to renovate a recently acquired 1940s timber cottage as a summer house. For that reason, she spent a lot of time at the house stripping 1970s wallpaper off walls, and painting and sanding and so-on.

The Hausfrau was compelled to busy herself with various cameras as the place was idyllic, set amongst copses of shimmering leaves with apples quite literally falling off trees. DS and her Dear Medium-sized Swedish Pal spent hours collecting autumnal delights like flowers and chestnuts and apples, and converted the old shed into a club house.

I'm not going to pretend it was warm: it wasn't. We had a run of stormy days with icy winds, but when the days were clear they went on for miles. The land is so flat, compared to Switzerland. The sun sat low and cast a gentle light through the leaves all day, and the Hausfrau was happy to be in low density housing again, where you can hear the rain and wind and have light coming from all directions into the house. Very different from apartment living, which sometimes feels like its own sealed biosphere.

It was really too late to see native orchids flowering, as they tend to flower in the summer months, but I saw in my travels a good number of flowers I didn't recognise. I also spent a fair bit of time poring over our Dear Hostess's book of Swedish flora, especially the pages of 'orcidus', as I was in the company of at least 20 plants in her house.

On one of the Hausfrau's side road trips we visited the university town of Växjö, where we spent some time walking around the old town, visited the beautiful old Viking church, which was rebuilt in the twelfth century (inside which I spotted no less than four organs - later additions, one presumes!), and - in lieu of Swedish meatballs - ate some rather good Thai food. (Ah, the globalised life!)

Another excursion led us to the town of Boda (near Kosta... near Orrefors...), and the word which springs to mind here is 'lucky', as we arrived at the Kosta Boda glass warehouse on a rare sunny day and, because of that luck with the weather, got to see some cool light-effects through aisles and aisles of coloured glass. Let's face it, glass without sunlight can seem a bit pointless.

I'd have loved to see the workshop in action, but perhaps it was for the best, as DD and DS seemed to be having some difficulty staying still. For example, DD spent an enormous amount of time compulsively cartwheeling: not an ideal thing to be doing in a glass workshop.

As the holiday progressed, DS's bedtime became later and later, and our conversations became more and more 'interesting'. Par example, this little gem at 11pm:

DS: Do you know how flies taste, Mum, by the way?
Me: Um, can't say I do. Probably a bit crunchy?
DS: With their mouth of course. Yeah, because you taste with your mouth, not with your nose. I can only taste when I put something in my mouth.

(I guess you can see the implication there...)

And, now that we are back in Switzerland, I must say that we are having a little trouble adjusting to being back at school, despite the end of daylight savings where we allegedly gain an hour. The only morning that the kids leapt out of bed at lightning speed was last week, when we awoke to a white world.

Yep, snow in October!

PS Naturally, it would be a mistake to think we could visit Sweden without a trip to IKEA, especially when DSP was renovating. So picture DS in his red ear muffs driving an IKEA trolley up and down aisles with the sole aim of going as fast as he can, while the Hausfrau and DSP load five beds onto trolleys and then into the trailer in teeming rain. (Luckily we'd fortified ourselves with Swedish meatballs and cranberry sauce prior to this.)

Sweden I

2008-10-20T04:39:00.000-07:00

Having viewed more than one mystery drama in which the catalysts for gruesome murders were rare and beautiful orchids, it was with slight trepidation that I walked into our Dear Swedish Hosts' spare bedroom, where I was to stay with the children: On a window ledge above my bed sat no less than ten different orchid plants, some in flower, some with silver roots creeping across the sill.

I needn't have worried, as our DSHs were the most warm and welcoming hosts we could have wished for. I enjoyed several outings with our hostess, who took me to see history-laden Laholm, and a nearby beach (beautiful, of course, but very windy and cold).

She was also extremely willing to explain to me the finer details of Swedish cuisine, the result of which is that I returned to Switzerland with a few new recipes to try, plus some supplies such as oft-missed salt-flakes, brown sugar and a jar of pine berries which can be incorporated into a delicious cream sauce.

The Hausfrau was pleased to be asked if she would like to cook some meals, and firstly presented an Aussie-style lamb roast to her hosts, which I believe was well-received. We even managed to find ingredients for the mint sauce, though that possibly didn't appeal to all palates. I continue to find it amazing just how many different kinds of foods there are in the world, and how integral food is to people's happiness. Case in point: the smile on the DD's and DS's faces when they saw a lamb roast appear on the table. Or the smile on the Hausfrau's face when she tasted pickled herring and fresh, baked salmon.

As the first week progressed the Aussie Hausfrau slipped deeper under the spell of a head-cold, resulting in her grip on reality becoming more and more tenuous. Was she really in the northern hemisphere, in Sweden? Was her son really speaking Swiss-German to Dear Little Swedish Pal? Was DLSP really speaking Swedish with a Swiss accent back to him? Did neither of them notice or mind the fact that the Hausfrau was speaking English to them? Apparently not. It was really rather funny; and more so when we passed through Germany and we all tried our hand at Hoch Deutsch. You can imagine that at times there was more hysterical laughter than sense being made.

So, for the Hausfrau, laughter, photographs and drawing (and a certain amount of opera singing as we rocketed along the Autobahn) became the lingua franca, as the kids and I managed to fit in lots of drawing, and clocked up over 1,000 photographs over the two weeks... and that's not including the deleted ones. (Stand by: must get them from DSP's laptop.)

And, speaking of deleted ones, I awoke with a start in the middle of the night when an orchid flower landed on my forehead. Now, I ask you, how many people have lived to tell a tale such as this? Not many in the detective stories, I can tell you that.

Needless to say, DD and DS found it hilarious that I had flowers in my bed.

But to the Hausfrau that wasn't nearly as hilarious as her son, who went to sleep nearly every night carrying a small hammer with bejewelled handle (from here on known as 'The Disco Hammer') and wearing fluffy red ear-muffs.

La Traviata

2008-10-02T03:06:00.000-07:00

This week was starting to look a bit frantic with the impending trip to Scandinavia and the departure of DH to the Mother Ship in Calfornia again. Five loads of washing later, and the Hausfrau received an email telling her that La Traviata was to be performed in the Hauptbahnhof - main train station - in Zürich that night.

What else was there to do but reach for the mobile and text (or 'sms' as people here long-windedly refer to it) and call for the Dear Local Queen of Babysitters?

The only point of this post is to say that it's really not often that you get to stand in a train station with full orchestra in one ear and opera singers in the other, and I enjoyed every surreal minute.

But the most amusing part about it was that the hundreds of people who turned up were clearly so happy to be there, and in fact many of them were casually singing or humming along as though at a sort of operatic rock concert. (Never mind the tragic story being sung...)

On that note (sorry, obvious pun), bags must be packed and iPod and camera charged for the next adventure.

Business as usual

2008-09-26T02:30:00.001-07:00

Quote of the day, from DS as he listened to me chatting to a friend:

'Mum! You're making me bored, so I can't do my sewing!'

I should take a tip from DS, who this week was home with a bad tummy and in that time has: sewn up a hole on his fuzzy lamb; built (assisted by DD) a car out of a cardboard box; made for me a 'jewellery holder'; voluntarily done 'homework' at his desk; painted (assisted by DD) his whole body with face-paints as Spiderman; and informed me that if he can't go outside he's going to explode. Well, that last bit is a moot point: I now have well-developed arm muscles from bathroom-cleaning over the past week.

But it's true that we have been getting creative in DH's absence - he returned from the Infotech Central Mothership last week just in time for the Hausfrau's Baroque concert. Once again, a sublime experience, though this time with an excellent orchestra to assist with Bach's Cantata 169.

We were lucky enough to be giving the debut performance of Jakob Wittwer's Chorale Cantata with orchestra, for which the composer (as the outgoing organist for the local Church With Spire) played organ. A real pleasure and an honour to sing someone else's creation.

As we did last time, the choir sang at the morning service a few excerpts from the concert, in keeping with the church service theme - for which I can only give you a ball-park (God; Jesus) because it was all in Swiss-German.

And, as he did last time, the minister swept up to the altar in his black cape. Only this time there was no thundering organ to call us to Draculan attention. The best I can offer this time is that, as we started singing the heavens parted and a deliciously golden ray of sunlight beamed in through a high window momentarily blinding the Hausfrau and other singers.

Not to worry. We knew the music well enough to forge onwards without missing a beat.

And, in keeping with sunny themes, all choir members were presented with a huge sunflower as they left the stage after the concert. I added mine to a fantastic collection of sunshine which the kids and I had reaped from the local pick-it-yourself flowers next to the soccer field up The Hill.

More in a couple of weeks after the Hausfrau, accompanied by children, returns from a road trip to Sweden with a Dear Swedish Pal and her three offspring.

This is the deal

2008-09-16T01:59:00.001-07:00

Seems as though Summer has ended with a jolt as we plunged into rain and single-figure temperatures over the weekend.

Although I am loath to compare life to a game of Solitaire, I found myself having a moment of 'Well isn't that typical' when I was idly playing 'cards' on my mobile phone on the train this morning. The deal was superb - aces, kings and queens in all the right colours at exactly the right time. But then the game plateaued, and so did the train's progression. We sat waiting for another train to pass (not uncommon: freight trains sometimes come screaming past, late, one can only presume, forcing passenger trains to wait - very un-Swiss).

And just as the train started up again, my phone told me, 'It looks like you're not making any progress. Press OK to play again.'

Where am I going with this? I'm going to the land of 'That's what you think,' of course, because a) the train will always start moving again, and b) there are things you can do in Solitaire (as in Life) which the program thinks you can't.

I wasn't able to shift my 4's around so I could start feeding more cards onto the Aces, but - lucky for me - I don't generally believe in messages generated by computer programs (don't tell InfoTech Central), so I was able to move forwards with my day secretly knowing that the Hausfrau could've come up trumps.

And so it was with the past week, where people started grumbling and 'oohing' and 'aahing' about the weather. One person even said to me, 'Gosh, there's so much pressure in Summer. You feel like you need to have done something, because then it's cold again, and you wonder what you can say you did!' Indeed, I understand wanting to make the most of the weather, but not just so I can tell someone what I did. Oh, alright, you might notice this is a blog - read: weblog, where I (ahem) tell people about what I've been doing.

But the end of Summer isn't the end of All Things Fun. No, Sir. It's time to ignore the hype, play out the hand, stay on the train.

So stand by for the next chilly installment as we launch into the Autumn holidays and celebrate one year of living on a Swiss Hillside.

After Oz

2008-08-31T23:20:00.001-07:00

Just as pre-Spring buds on trees in Australia were starting to make themselves known we arrived back in Switzerland to the occasional lazy yellow autumn leaf drifting to the ground.

However, we did managed to have a solid week of sun, during which we visited nearby Oberrieden Badi, where I sampled a tasty but slightly odd (i.e. with canned sweet corn) Thai salad; after-school activities got into full swing; and DS and I took a Schiff (a boat which thinks it's a bus) on the glassy, turquoise Lake.

The week was hazy and tropical, and ended with the birthday party of DS, a very Swiss-German affair involving about ten sweaty and excited six- to ten-year-olds and several soccer balls.

Actually no; it ended with the Hausfrau heading into the city to see a movie and eat Malaysian noodles with a friend. Not half bad.

A few observations after returning to Switzerland from three weeks in Oz:

DS can eat ice-cream with chopsticks and enjoys playing 'Bidmanton' with 'Hottlecocks'.

Canberra is cold. (This from the Hausfrau who had braved the Jungfrau.)

Sydney is big. Well, bigger than Zürich.

Both of my offspring refused to speak more than a couple of words of German while we were on holiday.

DD got the giggles on the plane from London to Zürich when she realised she could understand the air steward's German announcements.

Both of my offspring appear now to speak only Swiss-German in our apartment playground.

Friends are friends even when you don't see them very often.

Holiday antics

2008-07-25T11:27:00.000-07:00

There have been a few times since we've been here when I have unintentionally broken rules, and had to suffer the consequence. (Let's not mention the compost in the wrong bin episode...)

There was the time I travelled without my travel pass on the train, and was emphatically told off for not carrying the receipt with me. I was fined only 5 Francs, but had to show up at the main station with my receipt the next day. Could have been worse.

Another time I took a huge bite out of a sandwich while I was on the bus. I can't say for sure if I was thinking at the time. The bus driver turned around and said something which more or less meant, 'No eating on the bus'.

But that wasn't the end of it. A nearby passenger turned around too and said (in German), 'Who was that? Was that you?'

Then there's our neighbour: When DS is in full fog-horn voice our neighbour crosses the landing to ring our bell and then runs back into his apartment cursing, and slams the door. It took me a few times to realise it was him and not just some kids ringing random bells as they passed the building. And I could go on about the odd neighbour behaviour in these parts (there's another sour-faced couple who shoo the children out of the playground, if you can believe that...), but I think we are doing OK, considering it's only the second week of the holidays.

Luckily for us, the local Gemeinde puts together a School Holiday activities list to get us out of the house, which arrived in the last week of school with strict instructions to return by a certain date to certain named person.

Thus began the frantic attempt to de-code all the activities. I must have given up or passed out soon after I started reading the German, because at the last minute I had to enlist the help of my Dear English Pal - with her fluent German - to assist in the translation. Some events were not at all what I'd envisaged (sewing pearls onto a t-shirt, for instance, which sounds like something to be avoided at all costs, so it's lucky I discovered its true meaning before I checked the box for that one). But aside from that all went according to plan, and the children were accepted into a good number of activities. I must mention that I broke a rule by handing the form in a day late, but was pleasantly surprised to find I was not penalised. No problem.

On the first day of the holidays DD had the opportunity to go to one of the well-reputed restaurant kitchens in Zürich to make pizza and dip strawberries in chocolate (hey, this is Switzerland). DS and I followed on the train at a requisite distance until we reached the city and then waved goodbye to DD... and then discovered that the Hausfrau had somehow left her Eftpos card in a machine somewhere, and she was without even enough cash to get DS the promised hot chocolate. Poor DS: I dragged him back on the train, then walked him up The Hill, then up The Hill even further to the shop I'd left the card at, then walked him all the way down The Hill, back on the train... just in time to pick up DD at the station.

Day One, and DS's comment was: 'Mum, when are we going to start having fun?'

By Day Two things were looking up. DS had a play with his Dear Little Kiwi Pal in the morning and went up to a local farmhouse in the afternoon to find out where milk comes from. He returned with an empty cup (presumably after having drunk fresh milk), and informed me that yes, of course he had milked a cow, and DLKP had found a grasshopper.

By the end of the week, we'd seen a magic show (which the Hausfrau watched too but was then informed by an amused friend that adults weren't supposed to go in) and DS had visited the local Bergwerks, which appears to be a museum which holds old coal-mining stuff. Turns out there is a large mine under our town which stops not far from the roots of our very apartment.

And by the time the weekend rolled around our Dear Aussie Pals arrived from Tokyo, and there was much eating of Thai food and chocolate to be done. The Hausfrau even joined them in a walking tour of the old town in Zürich, which was enlightening in as much as it enabled me to visualise Zürich in its various stages of development, and see some nooks and crannies which I'd not yet discovered.

I have to say that the highlight of the week was without a doubt hearing the amazing Stimmhorn, a vocal/horn duo who combine horns of all shapes and sizes (including alpenhorns) and the vocal gymnastics mix of Tibetan chant harmonics with - you guessed it - yodelling. Wow.

Stuff I Like

2008-07-15T22:42:00.001-07:00

As I sit here at 7.30am (DS has been up for at least two hours already), I can see Dear Herr Caretaker, the caretaker of our apartment block, tipping his cap at a passer-by while he sucks on his cigar and aims a jet of water at the driveway of the neighbouring apartment.

Which brings me to a couple of things. Firstly, the apartment car parks here are pretty cool. Most of the apartment blocks seem to have automatic, sliding doors in the side of a hill which lead to secret underground parking. Brilliant. At least the Hausfrau thinks so; we moved from low density housing to apartment living, and I'm still getting used to not seeing car carcasses littered across front yards or in car ports.

But back to DHC, and another thing I enjoy about Switzerland is the water. If DHC had been casually jet-spraying his driveway in Oz, passers-by would have stopped their car by now to remind him of water restrictions. Oh yes, I witnessed this many a time at home in Canberra.

In Switzerland it's a moot point. There's water enough to sink a ship. Fountains and bubblers run constantly on street corners (there are 1,200 water fountains in the city of Zürich), and the water is clean and drinkable. I personally am enjoying the occasional spot of guilt-free hydrotherapy after a long day's Hausfrauing.

Going down to the 'Badi' (Bad being the word for 'bath'), as it is known, is the thing to do right now. In summer the lakeside is totally transformed: swimming areas in the lake are opened, and I frequently see parks - or any available stretch of green - littered with bronzing bodies in bikinis and boardies, cafés and grills, and change-rooms and huts. There are also men- or women-only Seebads at least one of which I can happily confirm transforms into an über-cool bar in the evening.

At this point I must proudly report that DH swam across the Zürichsee (Lake Zürich) from Mythenquai to Tiefenbrunnen with approximately 800 other swimmers a couple of weeks ago. Go, DH! (That's him in the orange cap, ha!)

And just by way of contrast, I recall during the 2003 Canberra bushfires there was a stretch of time during which we were asked not to use washing machines or anything which would use too much water and reduce water pressure for the firefighters. I sat on our back step with baby DS, watching black ash fall on DD in the sandpit, with buckets of dirty nappies and growing piles of sheets and towels in the laundry. At the time I wondered if this was the future for the land of Oz. I suppose time will tell, but for now the Hausfrau has a reprieve: Now summer comes in fits and starts because there is just so much rain. Morning air is cool and damp, and DHC mows at least once a week before the bees start having too much fun in wildflowers and clover.

One more Thing I Like: When DH and I went out for dinner the other night (yes, the DLQB was in residence), I greeted (in Swiss-German) three mildly shady-looking chaps as we passed. Naturally, they sniggered and greeted us back, but DH was less than enthused ('...er, nobody says that in the city'). Oops, but I confess I was in Automatic Greeting Mode, since everyone in our local township obsessively greets each other when they pass in the street. And, like a good Hausfrau, I follow suit.

All the kids say 'Grüuezi' (the Swiss-German greeting) or 'Morgen' first thing in the morning (short for Guten Morgen). Even the teenage boys with their Emo hair, spiked dog-collars and lip-rings swagger along until they reach the Hausfrau, at which point they squeak: 'Grüuezi'. This I find endlessly amusing, but I figure one ought to get some respect from the youth of today when one is dutifully pumping out hot lunches and living the domestic life which, it seems, is the recommended Status Quo for a Swiss Hausfrau.

In any case, at my age I like to think of myself as an experienced and wise elder of the community, due a bit of respect even if I do speak German like a four-year-old.

Some serious yodeling

2008-06-30T11:33:00.000-07:00

Question: Did the Hausfrau go to the Yodeling festival in Luzern?

Answer: Is the Hausfrau a Slave to the Rhythm?

Of course she did!

Every three years this festival is held and, having listened my fair share of bluegrass and yodeling Americana I figured it was about time I heard the real thing. (Pics above are of flag-throwing, by the way, another traditional 'sport'.)

Naturally, the excursion was coloured somewhat by the moaning and squabbling of two offspring who were less than enthused to be trucked in on a boiling hot summer's day to hear... yodeling. DH at least disguised his underwhelmedness behind sunglasses and the map.

However, there was a breeze coming in across Lake Luzern and - once we had found a position to watch the parade - the running of the cows (and their, ahem, urine) turned sour faces into grins, and we were in for a treat, including... oh yes! Alphorns!

Even the local music shop appeared to sell these amazing instruments. My question is: How on planet earth were these things invented? They are easily three metres long. Though I guess if you live atop of a three kilometre high mountain you wouldn't be so concerned about space restrictions.

The thing that surprised me about Alphorns and the yodelling was how gentle and harmonious it was. Perhaps this was due to the fact that the yodelling we heard was all choral rather than solo. I will have to search out some solo yodelling action before we leave this amazing country, just to hear the difference.

I do know that traditional style folk music is taken fairly seriously here. I recall, on our arrival, mirthfully discovering a television station which played folk music in earnest. By that I mean hours of 2-shot camera work in one tiny, traditional-style room with a small and serious group of singers and instrumentalists in traditional costume. I suppose they were enjoying themselves, but it did look a little like an endurance test for some.

I sense this is a good place to wind up with a couple of pics of the Aussie yodeling contingent in Luzern, who threw little koalas into the crowd - one caught by DD, who was most chuffed.

I will also add that the Hausfrau has been invited to sing again with the Project Choir: this time Bach Cantata 169.

Yodel-ay-hee-hee!

Castles and the forest

2008-06-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been hearing criticism from Dear Local Ex-Pats about the 'hideous' new buildings - apartments, schools - which are being built alongside the older Swiss houses in the area.

It may be something to do with being on a continent which has a long architectural history that the emergence of these new buildings might appear so blatantly insensitive to their historical surrounds.

I personally like to lean casually on nearby buildings and make mental notes about the joys of... well, leaning casually on buildings which were built in the 15th Century, so I can understand those who feel the need to preserve the uniqueness of the past.

However, I admit to being kind of attracted to the non-apologetic approach when it comes to building one's home and castle. The modern buildings appear highly functional and original in design and, in my humble opinion, while some buildings may seem a little out of place, most often the contrast between the old and the new serves to highlight both: whichever way your taste goes, I'll bet you stop to notice.

Alright, I've had my rant. Obtusely, what I'm warming up to talking about is a place where there aren't any architectural complaints - the forest.

Twice in the past week I've found myself lucky enough to be a-wandering through a quiet forest. The first instance was on a mild and rainy day at our very own local forest (or 'My Wald', as DS - who is a monthly visitor with the Kindy class - likes to claim). The waterfall had been frozen the last time I passed that way, but this time I was happy to see clear water and the promise of summer swims.

The second forest venture was with the whole family after another splendid lunch (home-made bread, home-made pasta, tuna, rocket, lemon, garlic, capers... lots of drooling from the Hausfrau) with our Dear Aussie ICE and SPICE, after which we headed out into the scorching afternoon to trek from Adliswil across the ridge down to Rüschlikon.

The fabulous thing about these Euro forests is how easy it is to imagine a gingerbread house, or a loitering wolf, or a random elf or fairy. Perhaps I'm comparing this to good old Snugglepot and Cuddlepie and evil Mrs Snake and the Banksia men wilting in the midday heat, but the imagination can work overtime as you wander deep into the forests around these parts.

Nothing else to say on forests, but - speaking of fairy tales - the theme at DS's Kindy at the moment is castles. We await with eager anticipation the Kindergarten Theater, which will feature DS as the König (king) and his Dear Little Kiwi Pal as the Königin (queen) (you know: the one who when she comes over has been known to say, 'Gosh your house is messy').

Mainly I can't wait to see DS with his special hobby horse. We made this horse at the Horse-Making Convention at the Kindergarten a few weeks ago, and I must say DS's horse is spectacularly un-horse-like, with its Father-Christmas wispy mane, huge blue button-eyes and long yellow leather ears. But the best bit is witnessing pure, unfettered joy on the face of DS as he neighs and gallops his horse and its massive jingle-bell-bridle around his castle and his forest - our apartment and surrounding gardens.

Mindball

2008-06-12T00:44:00.000-07:00

After a tasty pizza lunch in Winterthur the Hausfrau and family headed to 'Technorama'. (For any Canberrans out there, it's like Questacon except much bigger.)

Suffice it to say, we were in seventh heaven with the amount of fiddling and button-pushing and dial-twirling to be done.

One of the highlights has to be Mindball (wow, I just found a site where you can buy your own game for US$23,900), a combat of the calmest minds: the lower your Alpha and Beta brainwaves, the higher your score.

The Hausfrau was entirely whipped at this game, by everyone in her family. I like to think it was partially due to the running commentary from DS.

DS: You have to stop thinking, mummy. Just stop. Try and think of nothing. Just nothing. Are you thinking of nothing yet?

A very Zen DH was the proud winner of all games he played, and I could suggest that in order to win you need to be the most brain-dead of the contestants, but that might sound a bit like sour grapes. I really should have tried the game again at the end of the day, though, because by closing time the Hausfrau was suffering from off-the-scale brain meltdown having tried to keep track of DS (who had been zotting here and there in an entirely random fashion for most of the day) and his shirt - both of which she lost in the heaving mass of children and robotic limbs and other swinging devices.

Thankfully, the announcement came over the loudspeaker that DS was in fact waiting for his parents at the front desk. We of course bolted down to find DS chatting in Swiss-German to the staff while he played with a motorised millipede.

Me: I'm so glad you have him! Thank you! And, er, I think we also lost a shirt as well... white? with blue stripes?
Staffer: [Looks through Lost and Found box.] Oh yes, we have that too.

Conquering the world

2008-06-05T01:59:00.000-07:00

Looking at this photo now it's hard to believe only a few weeks ago we were at the top of Jungfrau - the 'Top of Europe' - with the extended family.

Sometimes life feels like there are only a few seconds to breathe before the next event takes over your brain. This is just part of life when you have to - for example - take a certain DD to the Kinderspital (children's hospital) on the other side of town, or - for example - run around like a headless chicken when you at the last minute learn that you have to organise guacamole for the school concert (!), and so-on.

But back to breathing (something I personally like to do), it so happens that there is a third less oxygen at the Top of Europe, which made for some spacy stair-climbing. But we had a perfect day for it - the view was unimpeded by cloud, and of course spectacular.

From Grindelwald (with a massive score on the Swiss-o-meter) we chugged slowly up on the mostly-tunnel Jungfraujoch railway, built at the end of the 19th Century. (Apparently they accidentally exploded 30 tonnes of dynamite when they were building it, and you could hear the explosion all the way to Germany. I personally wouldn't want to have been that guy who set it off...)

The trains were packed to the rafters - and it wasn't even peak season - and, having read the guide books, I wasn't surprised to see that a good proportion of tourists were groups from India, having come (one presumes) to see the new favourite Bollywood film location. If that's hard to believe, I'll just mention that there was a Bollywood film crew shooting on location while we were there, complete with stars adjusting fake beards and brightly-sari'd women scurrying between locations. The restaurants at the top also served Indian-style foods although, having experienced the pickle-filled falafel in Zürich, one wonders what Dear Swiss surprises were in the curry.

We wandered up to the ice-palace, where it looked like every single tourist was scooting around on the ice-floor viewing ice sculptures - and their breath: it was minus 10 degrees outside with what I would guess was a massive wind-chill factor on top of that.

As I said, hard to believe now, as we roll into summer, and are running to catch up with the next round of events.

Maybe that's why I love photographs. When I'm in a wheelchair you'll be able to find me poring over photos and wondering if we were really there. Sounding reflective? Definitely. I saw an exhibition of photographs by filmmaker/artist Chris Marker at the Museum für Gestaltung yesterday, and was blown away by the volume of work. OK, he must be about 90 any minute now, so perhaps it's no surprise that he's had time to cover the ground that he did, but you have to hand it to people who - to coin a phrase - just do it.

In the exhibition, Staring Back, Marker quotes Valery Larbaud who laments not being able to contact some of the subjects of his old photographs.

For, I don't know why, it seems to me that with them I could conquer a world.

Looking now at photos of her family at the Top of Europe, the Hausfrau can fully understand that sentiment.

PS. I'm not sure we'll ever discover who, but I am proud to report that some valiant Aussie had clearly conqured the local recycling depot/dump - and planted a flag - at Rümikon, near Zürich airport. Olé!

Getting to the bottom of soccer fever

2008-06-04T02:12:00.000-07:00

With Euro '08 kicking off this weekend, I felt it would be only fair to share with my Antipodean friends exactly how soccer-mad Zürich is going.

Flags are flying on buildings and cars, and shops are choc-a-block with merchandise: from jewellery to flowerpots to bread. If it can be made to resemble a soccer ball, then a soccer ball it will become; no question.

The local kids are collecting and trading stickers to put in their books, and I was tickled this morning to hear, as a number of Kindergarteners filed past me, 'Olé! Olé! Olé, olé, olé!'. Our Dear Amazing Kindy Teacher had even gone so far as to schedule a Kindy concert on a Saturday morning (almost unheard of in these parts) because, 'There are no soccer matches in the morning and, sure, it is hard to find a time for parents during the soccer!'

In fact, as I wandered through the Hauptbahnhof this week, I was unsurprised to discover bare-bottomed soccer players of great magnitude towering over me. One presumes their shorts will appear at some point in the next few days, but I was starting to sense a theme as I had happened upon - only a few days previously - DS (who has definitely caught the bug) standing in his muscle-tank-top and undies on the balcony overlooking the town, yelling, 'Euro 2008! Zwei! Null! Null! Acht!' through his toilet-roll megaphone.

Incidentally, he tells me he is going for 'Italiano'. (In the same breath he also wondered if spiders eat carrots, but I think that was just to test if I was paying attention.)

PS. These pics taken on the morning of kick-off - and yes, that is an advertisement for a Swiss toilet seat which will play the national anthem when you sit on it...

The hills are alive

2008-05-20T05:55:00.000-07:00

There's no doubt that when you look at a map around these parts you think, 'Oh, that's just a short walk. A hundred metres or so.' But when you actually translate this, the reality feels very different. It usually involves a 45-55 degree incline at some point, which has the potential to throw even the most rugged of walkers off schedule.

Which is why I was pretty impressed today when I managed to get the kids to school, jump on a train, discover a large hill in a nearby town which had to be scaled in order to attend a German class which was cancelled, run back down the hill, jump back on a train, run back up the hill home again, and all before 9:45am.

A Dear English Pal said to me on the way to a choir rehearsal: 'When I moved here I had to learn how to walk hills.' I suppose it's not something the Hausfrau's family were used to after the Limestone Plains. But how amazing the hills here are, and it's no wonder we see people out walking in droves on the weekends.

Prior to our excursion in the footsteps of Sherlock Holmes we spent the day at the Ballenberg outdoor museum in the rolling hills of the Bernese Oberland. If I hadn't been on a few other Swiss adventures I might not have believed how Swiss it all was. (OK, I may have said, 'Out of control,' a few times, but not many.)

Ballenberg is comprised of differently designed houses which have been shipped in from all over Switzerland, from various different cantons. The overall effect was one of idyll and vitality as we wandered through smoke houses and animal pens and herb gardens, and peeked into recreated scenes invoking lifestyles of simplicity without the modern clutter of such paraphernalia as [looks at floor next to computer] Lego and Euro 08 stickers.

After lunch in the courtyard of one of the more Italian-region- of-Swizerland-style villas, during which we were amused to see underwear flapping in the breeze on the second floor balcony, we continued our journey through time and place, finishing up at the local chocolate-making shop where the Hausfrau was compelled to try a dark chocolate with creamy lemon filling. (Sounds palatable, but tasted disappointingly like disinfectant.)

I have to say that in Brienz there were literally hundreds of these old style Swiss houses. A woman who appeared to be enjoying her rustic Swiss balcony saw that we were disappointed that the local violin-making workshop was closed. She had a conversation with DM and promptly made a quick phonecall which resulted in one of the violin builders appearing to let us in and show us around the workshop.

The view from the workshop windows was inspirational and, I'd have thought, ideal for the creation of musical instruments.

I admit that while we wandered through cow-slips and daisies in Ballenberg I'd been half expecting to see Julie Andrews' yodelling head appear as she skipped from behind a nearby hillock. But, at that point, I was entirely happy to settle for a spot of classical violin and the hollow clang of cow-bells.

The Big Meringue

2008-05-06T05:09:00.000-07:00

In a sad state of affairs this morning the Hausfrau went to the kitchen, flicked on the kettle and pulled down two mugs, anticipating tea and chats (in English) with one or more extended family members... only to realise that of course everyone had gone. DM, DF, DB and DSIL were all safely tucked up in their own beds in Australia, DH was at the coal-face and DS and DD were at school. What a contrast to the past six weeks, in which house guests were with us more often than not, and I only had to yell out: "Sprechen Sie Englisch, dude?" to hear: "Yeah maaate".

After The Wedding, the Hausfrau and family packed into an 8-seater van with DM and DF as well as DB and DSIL, and headed south to Brienz in the Bernese Oberland for a few days of rolling green hills, flushes of wildflowers, cows with bells, crystal clear lakes, snow-capped mountains, old Swiss houses, lots of chocolate... It was totally out of control on the Swiss-0-meter in so many ways.

Our hotel was outrageously rustic, and overlooked Lake Brienz. I thought Lake Zürich was clean, but this was like, well, water with nothing else in it except some aqua food-colouring. And apart from DS (who was spotty and tired from hosting the chicken pox virus) and the Hausfrau (who was sporting a rubbish cold), we couldn't have had more fun or covered more ground if we tried.

The area is full of surprises, starting with Meiringen, which we soon realised was home to the Sherlock Holmes museum, and nested at the base of the Reichenbach falls, from which Holmes and Moriarty plunged in their final battle. At this point I must say that while Holmes may not have benefited from a mobile phone, the Hausfrau was exceptionally glad of hers when DS, on discovering that DH and DD had legged it up the mountain to try to get to the top, ran full-pelt in an upwards direction with the Hausfrau cool on his heels. I say cool, because the kid is like lightning and, after an attempted pursuit during which the Hausfrau was coughing and panting with head pounding, it was all she could do to whip out the mobile phone and dial DH.

Me: It's DS. He's on his way. I can't keep up. I'm sick.
DH: Okaaaay. Hey, look up here! I'm waving at you! Hi!

True enough, DH and DD (at least I presume it was them since they kinda looked like little freckles) were at the top of the fall waving madly.

Needless to say, DH (who can also be like lightning on request) whizzed down to meet DS, and the three of them then bolted down the mountain again leaving the panting Hausfrau in their wake.

It wasn't until we got back to the hotel that DH pointed to the guide book. Turns out that May 4th is the Sherlock Holmes festival in Meiringen, in which Holmes fans congregate for a pilgrimage to the falls. Sadly for DH, who is a big Holmes fan, May 4th was to be the day after our departure.

Luckily for us, though, Meiringen is also the alleged home of the meringue, and we had stocked up on the way through, so at that point there was really only one sensible thing to do which was of course pull out the meringues and start scoffing.

Eye in the sky

2008-05-05T11:15:00.000-07:00

Having recently discovered that a few of DS's school friends had chicken-pox, it was with some trepidation that I boarded the plane avec ma famille (when oh when am I going to find German comes more easily than French?) to Mother England for the wedding of DC and DCIL-to-be, henceforth to be known as DCIL.

However, the wedding went ahead without a pock or a hitch (other than the intended), and the Hausfrau and DH had a few extraordinarily proud moments as we, misty-eyed, watched our spruced and beaming offspring lead the bridal party down the aisle. DC was, of course, radiant, and was as amused as I was when, following allegedly impeccable behaviour during the photo session and a very long day as the shortest guest at the wedding, DS yawned loudly during the best man's speech and announced even more loudly during a pause: 'Mummy. This is soooooo boring.'

Not so boring was the rest of London. No indeed. Both DH and I had lived in London as kids, so there was a certain amount of travelling down Memory Lane to be done, and not without a few good cups of tea to fortify us along the way. I even managed to catch up with a Dear English Pal from about 6th grade, with her two children and her DH. Now that was a lot of laughs, especially when faced with some rather antiquated photographs of DEP and Yours Truly.

In fact we covered a lot of ground in a few days, starting with the London Eye, which was made all the more momentous when we noticed, at the crest of the ferris-wheel-like ride, that Big Ben was in fact chiming 12 o'clock midday. Not so much fun for a nearby Kiwi tourist, who appeared to be glued to the centre of the seating bench the entire way, and frequently warned his offspring to stay away from the windows (at which point I must draw attention to the fact that the entire 'pod' minus the floor was comprised of window).

I also managed to get my Hausfrau Art Hit when we visited Dear Youngest Brother (DYB) at one of his workplaces, also known as the Tate Modern. (Oh yes, did I mention The Tate?!) We were treated to entry to the members' lounge, where we had a huge lunch of designer grub and coffee, and then feasted our eyes on - oh joy - lots and lots of art. The Hausfrau was most pleased to clap eyes on some work by de Chirico, having spent many hours poring over reproductions of his looming-shadow paintings in text books during high school. And, as usual, I walked away with the conviction that art always looks different in the flesh.

And so, as we arrived back in the land of chocolate and cow-bells, it was with some relief that I spied the first spots on DS's face. I think of it as a near-miss: chicken pox don't look too flash with tartan trousers.

[Stay tuned for the next episode, in which Spotty Boy accompanies Snotty Hausfrau on some of the most out-of-control Swiss experiences you will ever read about.]

Pass the sunglasses

2008-04-19T11:14:00.000-07:00

I felt the need to start this entry with a picture of what could loosely be called 'lunch' - in fact it was a rather odd risotto-ish slop which I ordered at an otherwise more-within-the-bounds-of-normal vegetarian restaurant in Luzern. It tasted OK, though even better while wearing sunglasses.

DM and DF had arrived a few days before this, having braved Heathrow's Terminal 5 on its first day of operation. As a result they were without bags and the usual clothes and so-on, although this didn't stop us leaping on a train and heading off into the mountains for a sunny adventure.

Luzern was quietly beautiful and history-laden, though I felt as though we were just scratching the surface with our visit. After 'lunch' we enjoyed wandering around the medieval part of town, and the incredible bridge, which spanned the river at an angle, having once linked the Benedictine monastery on one bank to the other.

Legend has it that an angel appeared one night outside a chapel on the site which was soon to become Luzern (so he predicted). Luckily I captured a representation of this luminous event as we wandered under the 110 paintings which adorn the bridge. I'm not sure if it's an original from the 1600s or a replacement; 85 of the paintings were destroyed by fire in 1993.

We topped our afternoon off with a walk past the art gallery and concert hall, known for its glass roof and - in the case of the concert hall - its fabulous acoustics. We didn't have a chance to hear any evidence of this: perhaps a challenge for next time.

The Babysitter Kommt

2008-03-18T07:49:00.000-07:00

Last night saw me with sponge in hand, frantically trying to scrub Kalk off sinks and collect dust from corners. DS and DD splashed in the bath, peering over the side with interest.

DD: Crikey, Mum, anyone would think the Queen of London was coming over.
Me: Hurry, hurry, people! Get in your Pa-Jimmies! The baby-sitter is coming!

I exited the apartment as soon as the Dear Local Queen of Babysitters had arrived, to the strains of DS's over-tired histrionics. As I scooted away into the night I thought fondly of the oft-used words of my own Dear Brother whenever he exited my cacophonic, food- and toy-strewn house: 'See ya, wouldn't want to be ya!'

In this case, I most definitely did want to be me: I was off to a rehearsal for the Easter Chorale, with my new Project Choir (Projekt Chor). We were to sing Heinrich Schutz's Johannes-Passion and, frankly, I was having the best time being an über music-nerd.

Having just finished reading 'The Architecture of Happiness' by Alain de Botton, I shouldn't have been surprised to be so utterly taken aback at the vast quietness of the space inside the local spired church. As it was, my chaotic, hurried brain was stopped in its tracks, and I was rendered speechless.

The acoustics were as good as the space promised, and by the end of the rehearsal I was exhausted and entirely humbled - partly due to the fact that the choir director speaks about 7 words of English, and none of those are particularly helpful when attempting to tell a bunch of altos they need to put a bit more hatred into their words as they are, after all, singing about crucifying Jesus.

I suppose it was just lucky that I returned to find a quiet apartment with children dutifully sleeping, and a nonplussed DLQB doing her homework.

PS. As it turned out, the concert was sung on a snowy Easter Friday night, and was attended by DH and DD. Notably, DD managed to record with the video camera a few choice moments of Buxtehude organ-work and rather a lot of the final applause. DS was left in the capable hands of the DLQB, and very happily wore his Power Ranger gum-boots.

Whacky Mittwoch

2008-03-12T11:53:00.000-07:00

Here is an example of the joys of using an online translator (for a letter I received from the Gemeinde regarding next year's schooling):

"The present kindergarten gutters, training by suns, school lines, members of the school care, the director/conductor of the school secretariat as well as further specialized persons are gladly ready to answer questions."

Currently my own brain's translation without the aid of a dictionary would read something like:

"The awesome Kindergarteners, teachers, schoolies, and other school persons including the school secretary are factual persons, and are going to be able to answer your questions."

All I can say is that between us we have a general idea of what's going on, but I can only hope my German rapidly improves sometime soon because, as you can see, life can seem a bit whacky at the best of times around these parts.

Spring snow

2008-03-05T04:43:00.001-08:00

We woke this morning to much squealing and excitement from DS and DD as they ricocheted from room to room opening curtains and blinds.

Turns out the world was completely white. Indeed, by the time DS returned from another Kindergarten adventure in der Wald there was just under half a foot of snow blanketed around the apartment.

DS was entirely covered with mud, as usual, and on the way home he and his Dear Little Kiwi Pal happily fell onto their backs and lay in the puffy snow for a bit, making snow angels.

(DS also slid on his stomach, pushing a path through the snow until he got some down his skivvy-neck, and then he thought it wasn't such a good idea after all and proceeded to strip his clothes off and hand everything he possibly could including three sticks and a pine-cone to the conveniently nearby Hausfrau.

At this point, I also need to add that I have a pile of no less than 27 rocks of varying sizes which I have retrieved from DS's pockets over the past few weeks, thus averting a washing-machine catastrophe.)

Anyway, as the Dear Amazing Kindy Teacher pointed out as they returned with the wagon in tow, this is the first real snow we've had all season.

I'd been in the city during the morning, where the snow hadn't settled. It was just plain freezing.

One of the beauties of living a little further out, no doubt.

Ah, Spring snow!

Lost in translation

2008-02-28T11:45:00.000-08:00

Initially, for this post I had planned to say:

'The few days of skiing in Klosters was the same as the week before at Amden, with the notable addition of two Infotech Central Employees, an even larger tantrum from DS, and the notable absence of Prince Charles'.

However, upon consideration, I have decided that's not entirely accurate.

For starters, we drove there, instead of catching the train (much easier on the Hausfrau's muscles). And we also stayed in a fellow Dear ICE's apartment, which turned out to be an oasis of comfort. I'd even go so far as to say it was gemütlichkeit, a phrase used by folk around these (and German) parts to allude to an atmosphere of warm friendliness, amicability or cosiness. There is no literal translation in English, but whatever the case, this place had it.

Me: (sitting on comfy sofa with tired ski-legs and hot tea in hand) [thinks] Hmm. I'd love a blanket for my knees. Oh, look! There's one right here! And it's so soft and snuggly!

(moments later)

Me: [thinks] Hmm. I just need to put my tea down but there's no side table, and the ottoman is too soft. It might spill. Oh, look! There's a tray! I can put it on that on the ottoman! And I don't even have to stand up!

(moments later)

Me: [thinks] Hmm. A bath might go down well... Oh, that's right! There's a spa-bath in the other bathroom!

So as you can tell, we were well-sheltered from the elements: all we had to do was ski!

Our first afternoon was spent on the 3.3km Gotschna sledging run - and that was the short run... the other run across the way at Madrisa is about 9km (!).

If you've never used a wooden sledge/sled before, let me tell you it's an acquired skill. There's no steering: just your feet and your weight. DH and I had a similar experience - we just started to get the hang of it half way down the run, but not before a couple of good stacks, and a lot of screaming and exhilarated whooping from DS and DD... oh, alright, from DH and me too.

When we finally hit the slopes for skiing in earnest we had clear days and awesome views. Daily Hausfrau-dom was left far behind for a few glorious days of carving snow, and flying (ahem, literally airborne a little too often than originally intended) down the mountain-sides.

There really aren't any literal translations from my brain to English or German to try to express how the clarity of the air, and vast expanse of snow, and abundance of happy skiers lifts the spirits.

What a privelege to be able to take time out to have an adventure like this one.

PS I couldn't say for sure if Prince Charles was lurking, but I didn't spot him.

The bus that got away

2008-02-15T07:25:00.000-08:00

Another train trip south past Pfäffikon - oh how the Hausfrau loves this hazy stretch of Lake Zürich - this time on to Ziegelbrücke and then by bus to Amden.

Question: How many buses can one Hausfrau miss?

Answer: None at all... unless accompanied by DS.

DS: I just can't think why my legs won't work.

We excitedly watched the snow appear as the bus wound its way up the mountain roads. When we reached our stop we hauled our gear up the hill to the hotel and then had a quick turnaround and managed to - just! - catch the hourly bus (we'd already missed two buses and one train by this stage) further up the mountain in time for our ski lessons.

The children cheerfully waved me off as they joined their respective classes, and I skied off into the wild white yonder with my Dear Local Ski Instructor, who also happened to be the Local Postie.

I can really only loosely call her my DLSI, as she was quite sure I was 'very sporty' and didn't need her guidance (Ha! to Pedro at the ski hire place, at this point).

Therefore I am happy to report I had a highly entertaining afternoon being shown around the village which is peppered across the mountain-side, and greeting what seemed like just about every other instructor and Dear Local on the slopes.

She has been skiing since she was two, as have her boys, who are now both ski instructors themselves. She said when they were little she used to put them down for a nap after lunch and tell them not to move until she got back from teaching ski classes.

DLSI: I go and they fall to sleep, and then I come home and they stand up again.

She showed me her grandmother's house as well as her childhood home, and we had a rather relaxed afternoon shooting the part-English/part-German breeze as we cruised up the T-bar and chair lift.

It doesn't get much better than flying down a snow-covered mountain on a sunny afternoon: Mission accomplished by 2.30pm on Day 1. How impressive is that?!

So on the first night, after missing the hourly bus twice (despite my best efforts to motivate a mostly horizontal, snow-scoffing DS with encouragement, bribery and eventually screeching) and hauling skis and other paraphernalia back up the hill to the hotel, we descended upon the local pizzeria and watched the sunset fade behind the mountains as we sucked back icy-cold lemonades.

Me: I'm parched. I could drink a lake.
DD: It's probably from yelling so much.
DS: Yeah. Don't worry, mummy. It's probably from yelling so much.

At that point I began to let go of any hopes I'd had of DS meeting any external timetable.

And therefore, on Day 2, when DS - in absolute, total and utter exhaustion after his ski class - had the Mother of all Tantrums, the Hausfrau resignedly followed DD to a nearby rather large mound of snow and waited for the storm of flailing arms and ski-booted legs (and the bus) to pass.

Not so bad, all things considered, when you have not much else to do that day other than contemplate where you might acquire your next hot chocolate, and to admire the sensational view from atop a snow-capped Swiss mountain.

Eventually DS arrived back on earth, and we made it back to the hotel in time for dinner - with a sunrise, a hot bread-and-jam breakfast, and one last day of amazing snow to look forward to.

Vive la Hausfrau!