Good morning!

Last day of November, at 9.25AM.

Visitor from the Far Away Land

My dad, despite being in Switzerland for about 15 times already, decided to pay us a visit. Fair enough, it had been 2 years since we last saw him so it was about time he came here!

We picked him up on Friday night and decided to order in the dinner as he was suffering from 1 hour jet lag (!!) & airline food (=no food). We decided to try Iranian food and it was delicious! I also received my delivery of salt liquorice, dark syrup, Glögi spices, Finnish rye bread and 5kg, yes a five-kilo-bag, of multi grain porridge! Wohohohoo!

After a good (but short) night of sleep we woke up 6am (well, I woke up at 5am), had a feast of a brekkie with croissants, milk bread etc. and were out in the sleepy streets of Lausanne at 8am, ready to tackle the sights.

We had planned to make an excursion to another city after the morning walk but as my dad realised he remembered nothing of Lausanne, we decided to stay put and discover what Lausanne had to offer.

So we walked...oh BOY did we walk! We started at 8am, as I mentioned, and finished at 10pm. With the lunch & dinner breaks we ended up walking about 30km in 10 hours.

What struck my dad most, of course, was the sunlight.
We still have a proper day here even though it's winter. He was soaking up the sun rays like a lizard, refusing to use sunglasses in order to get some "light treatment".

We took him to the main cathedral (The Cathédrale Notre-Dame) and even though it's very bare from the inside, they were just building a miniature village there, probably for the Christmas period.
We were ooohing and aaaaahing for an hour as we were "look here, look there look look"-ing the details of the village.

As Switzerland is all about chocolate and cheese, we took my dad to the cheese market before continuing our walk. We had lunch at a brewery/restaurant Les Brasseurs and he, naturally, tried the le tartare de boeuf à la Provencale. "You want it spicy?", asked the waiter. "Spicy? Yes please!" said dad. And was then breathing fire like a dragon. Ah well! This is not Finland!

After walking around the city, we took  him to Ouchy (to the lakeside) before the sun setted. I wanted him to see where the Olympic museum is situated (even though it's being renovated) and say hello to the Paavo Nurmi statue.

As we lost the daylight and were getting hungry, we decided to get back to the city and have our dinner at Café Romand. We always take our visitors there as the atmosphere is wonderful (locals mix nicely with tourists), service is awful (I mean "authentic", old fashioned and slow) and the food is rustic but delicious. My dad and I shared a fondue and he was in heaven!

After dinner we digested the heavy food by a little walk around the city and laughed at the tackiest hotel in town. I mean laughed UNTIL we saw the Bentleys, Rolls-Royces and Ferraris parked in front of it. Rich seem to like it tacky.
We ended the night eating Ladurée macarons and downing a 40+ year old Port wine. Perfect ending for a perfect day.

Next morning we woke up (a little hungover) to a rainy and foggy day. As everything is closed (meaning shops and places) we decided to go to Rochers-de-Naye (2042meters) and say hello to the view and the "REAL" Santa Claus (ahem, cough cough).

It started promising. Looked like the gates of heaven were trying to open as we started our climb uphill in our little scenic train.

We've been up there 4 times before and each time we've managed to get on top of the clouds on the top. This time, however, weather was not on our side. Yes there was snow but.... Visibility was about 5 meters. 10 tops. And the clouds were so high up we never got on top of them. We decided to cut the visit short, eat a quick lunch, say hello to Santa and start to descend back down.

"Hello REAL Santa!"















On our way down we stopped at Caux, paid ourselves silly with an entrance fee and ended up freezing in the shittiest (pardon my fluent French) Christmas villages ever.

I do believe the low point of the visit was the man dressed up as a Sami person. And instead of reindeer, he had some authentic Lapland Donkeys. You know.

"Bonjour" he chirped.

As my dad and I were taken aback a little, my dad reacted as a true Finn abroad. "Bonjour. You know... we're from Finland."

"Ah yes, Faaahnlaaaahnd?" he said with a blank stare. "Welcome to Switzerland!" ...Ah yes...

"Yes, we are. Do you even know what you're wearing? Trying to be from Lapland? One tip, your shoes are all wrong" (he was wearing fluorescent green sneakers). I truly hope he goes home and GOOGLES who he is trying to be. You know... Research a little to get into the character. Anything. The man clearly didn't even know about Lapland. Well, why bother then at all, I ask. If he doesn't know, most visitors won't either so what is the point?

Even though the village was crap, the view down was wonderful.

After an hour freezing our butts off, we went down to Montreux to see their Christmas market and THAT was something alright. No entrance fee, plenty of people and pleeeenty of Christmas spirit.

Even had a chance to say hello to Freddy Mercury.

As the sun set and we finished our Vin Chaud, it was time to return home, have dinner and rest before taking my dad back to the airport in the morning.








Dad was very impressed with everything and I'm sure he will miss all the cheese and wine and most of all, our hospitality. We like to spoil our guests. ;) Can't wait to return the visit soon as we get to invade Finland!

Ignorance, thy name is Bubble Boy.

Ranting and rambling ahead.

Now, don't get me wrong. I like most people. I'm not a people hater.

Regardless where they're from, how old they are, what they do for living... If I can have a proper conversation with them, I like them.

But there are those few who rub me the wrong way and probably don't even realise themselves they're doing so. They are too ignorant/young/inexperienced to see the flip side of the coin, unable to understand things are often not only black and white but there are many shades of grey (I'm NOT referring to the housewife porn book here) in between. Those who judge for the sake of judging.

Usually these traits melt away with time, life experience, travelling and age. You get a certain sensitivity towards people. You ask a question, they answer, you take their answer on board and build up the friendship from there. You try not to step on their toes so you poke the ice with a long stick. Gently. This way you learn the boundaries what is ok and what is not. It's a beautiful thing, international and cross cultural relations.

But there are some, not many but still a few, who remain in the ignorant bubble (I'll just call them Bubble Boys and Bubble Girls) no matter how old they are, how much they've travelled and who they've met (had they met Gandhi & Dalai Lama they'd probably tell you only that Gandhi was bald and Dalai lama likes red and yellow).

Unfortunately for me, I have such a Bubble Boy in my class. I knew I would have to remain cool and collective the moment I first talked to him. Not a facial expression in sight and the tone of voice remained monotonic. Like a robot, Arnold style.
Uh-oh. 
For a very animated girl with forever-changing-facial expressions and lively tone of voice, I had some alarm bells going off with these signs. I knew we'll never be the best of buddies but I tried not to judge too hastily as life has taught me that some of the most sarcastic gems hide behind these monotonic stone faced acts.

Unfortunately, my gut instinct was correct. There was no hidden gem.

Here are some things Bubble Boy has flashed in the last few weeks:

Finnish=Russian, no?

(According to him) I'm a Finn, therefore I speak Swedish/Danish/Norwegian (he forgot Icelandic from the mix) and my own language sounds like Russian because it's related to Russian. Even when I spoke Finnish to him, he insisted it sounded Russian. Ok. Houston, we have a serious problem. He wasn't even joking. (insert tears here...the lingos couldn't be further apart.) He still insists Finnish is related to Russian, I just don't know it.

He asked. I answered. He didn't take it on board. Epic Fail with the tone deaf Bubble Boy.

Learning foreign languages - Easy peasy lemon squeezy, don'tcha know!

He also insists he is fluent in Spanish after spending one month in Spain. Yet he can't understand the Spanish lady in our class. But Spanish is "like sooooo easy", according to him. Best month he ever had. Dos cervezas, por favor. Spanish rules, yippee-ki-yay y'all.

I think our standard for "fluent" is a little different.

Eurotrash. Can't even speak proper English. 

He keeps talking to me as if I didn't speak/understand English.
Maybe Bubble Boy's girlfriend can't speak English well enough. Therefore, no foreigner can.
.....But I have many certificates telling me that I'm near native. How was I ever able to study at an Australian University? Work in English?
I know I make mistakes and I'm far from perfect and I'm nowhere near his fluent Spanish (Ha! See? Me does sarcasm, many time. And yes, I just did it again. Did you notice? Did you like it? Was it as good for you as it was for me?). But come on.

When I was blowing my nose this morning (I have a cold), he asked me if my nose was being "bad". BAD??? My nose is GOOD, it just happens to be runny, mister.

As I tilted my head without replying out loud, we got our signals even more crossed.
My head tilt was to indicate "You ARE kidding, right??" and he took it as "She doesn't understand, poor girl. Explain it to her again in simpler terms".

So he repeated....Sloooooowly. Dooooo....youuuuu.....haaaave.......a.....baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad......nooooose.......? (as he grabbed his nose between his index finger and thumb to demonstrate blowing of a nose).

I had to compose myself (inside, I died just a little) and with a smile replied that my nose is not bad, it's just biiiiiig and runny.

-No comeback. Other native speakers laughed.

"You say tomato, I say...."

According to him, I cannot call myself a "housewife" as I have no kids. I'm a fake (yes, seriously he told me this with a straight face).

To challenge his logic, I presented my situation.
We live in a house + I am a wife = Housewife. 
Housewife + kid(s) = Stay-at-home-mum. 
Yes? No? Tick the box, Bubble Boy.

-No comeback.  Just a blank stare.

The bubble that is Switzerland

He loves it here. His girlfriend is here, mountains are beautiful, life is good.

Here's the thing. He has been here for a month and he has had the ready-to-go network that is his girlfriend, her family and her friends. He doesn't have to pay rent as he stays at her place. She takes him around Switzerland in her car. They've met this summer so love is fresh and everything is lovely. The family owns property so they can stay at ski chalets for free. He's on a tourist visa so no obligation to pay for the local healthcare system. All he needed was to plug'n'play. Good on ya, mate.

I've lived here for two years and knew no one here. I was completely uprooted with no safety net. If we want to go somewhere, it'll cost us dearly (travelling, eating out & staying at hotels). As I don't work, I don't meet people. Well, those I meet in the streets aren't exactly my kind of people. They usually want something more than just a friendship, if you know what I mean.

When he first asked if I liked Switzerland and I answered "it's not an easy place to live" he took it as if I hated it here.

I never said that. I kept on repeating that it always depends what your background is, what your values are and where you're coming from. I come from Finland (via some other countries as well). Someone coming from Iraq/Spain/Portugal probably sees Switzerland differently as I do. I know things could work differently, more efficiently and faster because I have witnessed it in my own home country. Switzerland has its quirks and one of those is the love for old fashioned pencil pushing and paperwork. This is just a fact.
Also, where I come from, everyone is entitled to certain things (like healthcare) whereas here it depends how much you annually pay how good a treatment you will get. Want to  have a senior doctor treat you at the hospital? That'll be extra, thankyouverymuch.

And yet, daily he refers to me as "the Switzerland hater". And I keep patiently correcting that I never said anything of the sort but yes I think it is like going back in time a few decades comparing to where I came from. He tells me in his monotonic voice I can't be right because his girlfriend disagrees with my view.

What's that? The girlfriend who is Swiss? And has never been to Finland? Ah yes. My apologies, you're completely right! What was I thinking. Such a selfish, ignorant, stupid girl I am. Sorry I was trying to give a little perspective, to show things aren't simply this or that. There is the "in between".

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small....

Oh lordy. Give me strength. Not all are able to develop, mature and take their head out of their...erm....bubble. Yes, bubble. I could've used the word "ass" but I chose not to. You know why? Because I am above it. 

You can take a man out of the far-away-country and toss him around the globe but you cannot force him to open his eyes and his mind. You cannot force him to have his own opinions. You cannot force him to see all the colours of the rainbow. That there aren't always simply "right" or "wrong". There's also "depends". My truth is not everyone's truth. It's only my experience and view. And just because it doesn't fit Bubble Boy's view, it doesn't mean it's incorrect. It's just different. 

Sigh. Travelling for some people is like pearls for pigs. They'll never learn to poke the ice with a stick. They'll drive on top of it, Top Gear style with a Jeep, and then wonder why they crashed through the ice.

Salut! Ça va?

Operation Integration, step one: learning tolerable French.

So it began, finally. My intensive French class. 

I was quite apprehensive about it as I was certain I would not enjoy it (read too many complaints about the classes being taught in French only...Which I sort of understood but sort of dreaded...). 

But as always, or as the Finns say: "Pessimisti ei pety" (freely translated: a pessimist can't be disappointed) I was anxious for no reason. 

I was positively surprised by the fellow classmates as well as the lovely teacher. She's not too proud to throw an English word here and there when everyone is completely clueless about what she's trying to explain. 

"Don't panic, I have only begun" she said in English to the teary eyed Japanese lady who was struggling to understand as the rest of us bursted out laughing. Why did we laugh? No, not at her. We were laughing because we were all relieved when we realised we were all just as spaced out as the poor Japanese woman. What an alien language French is! 

I'll be taking the classes now every weekday, let's see if I could at least order a cup of coffee in French by the end of it.

Other than learning French, we were hit by very Arctic weather front. I was pointing out to my husband that the Swiss are extremely precise: When the clocks are turned back to winter time, it starts snowing. Bravo!

The true heroes of the weekend were the runners who ran 10K/20K/marathon in the snow. I salute them.

We took the tube uphill to check out how the weather up there was. Indeed, it could only be described as...Wintery. 

Hungry Hungry hiker.
Had to eat before, during and after the walk.

Shy

I'm turning 35 next week. I've been around the block or two.

I should be confident about myself. And I've certainly been working on my body image issues and as the result, I'm becoming more comfortable in my own skin.

But somehow, I'm becoming shy about my face which has always been my best feature. I don't even know why. 

Is it the forever multiplying wrinkles, my imperfect teeth, the dark circles around my tired eyes or my limp and thinning hair?

...Or should I simply maybe be more gentle with myself, embrace what I have instead of what I've lost? 

....I think I should definitely work on the latter. Come come now, Mrs. Marvelous. You don't look that bad for a 35-year-old bird.

Napapijri?? Ex-squeeze me, baking powder?

Could some wise person please explain what this is? It hurt my eyes and my heart just a bit.

Napapijri? Ouch, says the Finn.

If you want to use our exotic language, at least use it correctly. Now I had to convince my husband with a wide Google search that "Napapijri" is a misspelled "Napapiiri" and that it is NOT a Norwegian word at all. Sigh. 

Other than that, the weather has been alright, around 20 degrees in the day (although it's been pretty foggy). Apparently the weather is about to take a turn to worse this weekend and the temperature will drop. I feel sorry for those who are running the marathon on Sunday... There isn't enough nipple tape in the world to stop the nipples from freezing that day.

Foodaholic

Hello. I am Mrs. Marvelous and I'm a foodaholic. I love food, love eating food, love cooking and love learning about cooking.

Before I met my husband I cooked most of my meals but my repertoire was somewhat limited. I ate because I was hungry, not because I wanted something that tastes fantastic.
When I started dating my now husband, he opened my eyes and taught me things about food and cooking.

With time, I started learning from the True Masters of Cooking: my mother-in-law and her mother (my husband's grandmother). These two iron ladies are the true heroes of today's modern world. There are no such things as ready-made-dinners, meat and fish come as they are, things still have fur, eyes, organs, feet etc etc... Cooking is hands on, dirty work. Nothing sterile about it. And if it means 12-24  hours of cooking, it means 12-24 hours of cooking...with no complaining. That is just how it is.

I've learnt so much about seafood, blood, fish, poultry, meat... You'd be amazed if I told you even half of the things. The family used to own a restaurant so indeed, I am learning from real professionals.

And what does all this knowledge do to a person? It gives you confidence to try new things, pimping up recipes, trusting your own instincts. And most of all, it gives you the little tricks you will need in order to be successful at least 90% of the times. Only 90% as no one is perfect. Mistakes happen. Especially when you try new things.

My cooking is not pretty, it lacks presentation... But flavours are always intense and nicely balanced. I learnt what goes with what, what enhances things, what makes things more round, what makes things sharp. And most of all... I learnt to keep tasting when cooking. Each stage is as important so tasting comes from early on, not only when you're about to serve the meal. Or even worse, only after serving (like it was at my home when I was little... You never knew what was on the plate until it was in your mouth).

Our spice/herb collection is pretty impressive. Without any trips to the supermarket we can whip up Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, Italian,Thai,  Indian, Greek, Cajun, Scandinavian, French etc etc... cuisine. The more I experiment, the more I learn what I like.

In the last week I've been doing these foods (if you want any of the recipes, leave a comment).

Chicken-chouriço Jambalaya (with self made
Cajun seasoning)

Meatloaf with Mushroom-Gruyère stuffing (before rolling
it up)

Carrot-Tomato soup

Making moussaka: I was so mean I made aubergines CRY!

Moussaka in the making

His'n'Hers moussaka: his side with no cheese (only
Béchamel sauce) and my side (with Béchamel & cheese)

Also, I cooked a very simple Chinese oven roasted chicken (soy sauce, honey, ginger, five spice marinade). Chicken was shy so no photos, sorry.

As said, I don't make gourmet food. I make rustic home food that both fills you up and makes your taste buds say "yippee".

And yes, I am hungry while I am writing this. As I'm typing away, I'm also preparing my lunch using the left over chouriço and cabbage with the carrot/tomato soup base I prepared yesterday.

Lunch

My point of this blog post is.... Don't be afraid to try new things! There's always room for improvement in this field.

And I didn't even scratch baking in this posting... That's a whole other can of worms which I might tackle at some point.

Now go away, cook and EAT, my friends!

Home

As the Autumn was at its best on Saturday, it was time to enjoy what our home town has to offer, by foot of course.

We often walk around on Saturdays, eating delicious fatty foods and enjoy seeing the buzz as the locals have the only day of the week they can do their shopping (don't get me started on that one).

Once you step out, you simply never know what you'll see. Almost each weekend we'll bump into random stuff we weren't expecting. This time it was a temporary street cart racing track in the city. 

Well, why not indeed. Why be in a remote area when you can block half of the city center and drive around its tiny streets? 

We also took some touristic snapshots (to send home, really). At some point I stole my husband's Ray-Bans. Too bad they're with prescription lenses...Otherwise I'd steal them for SURE!

Twat pose alert.... 

After eating a stuffed baguette for lunch, we felt we weren't quite fat enough yet so we visited our DOOM (Ladurée) and bought a box of the best macarons on this planet.

Now, I know this is not a fashion blog... But I just thought I'd share the upcoming winter fashion of Switzerland....Just in case you wanted to be "on the nerve" this winter! I know I know, you may thank me later with a postcard.

On a personal note, though....What a shame I'm not into pink... Otherwise I would totally had bought this outfit... Cough cough....

On our way home we walked through a park nearby our home. Autumn has arrived, indeed.

This is a special park. There are some exotic and not so exotic birds being kept there so it is yet another hidden special random place we found last year. 

Swiss Action Chicken

Polly wants a cracker

We stepped out of the lovely park and continued walking home. Here's our neighbourhood.

But before we hit back home, there was enough time for one last twat pose! Natural born dork, stayin' alive!

Harder! Better! Faster! Stronger!

Since we moved to Switzerland two years ago, I started "Operation Get Slim".

Everyone around me was running nearly daily, doing triathlons "because it's fun and I was bored" and looking stick thin even though I saw them eating full fat cheeses, croissants and cakes all the damn time. BITCHES!

"How unfair", I thought as I stuffed my face with chocolate. Things were going to have to change.

Also, I started the operation as I didn't want to get married and look at the pictures thinking..."Wow... I was fat on the most important day of my life". 

Operation Get Slim was basically calorie counting with a help of a web community I found in Finland. On the side of counting the calories, there was an option to write a blog about my journey towards the smaller me as well as read other people's inspiring battle against their bulges.

In about half a year I lost a lot of weight and became tiny and gazelle-like. My frame is very petite anyways so when I am tiny, I mean I am tiny. However, losing so much weight in a short period of time made me a skinny fat (even though I was trying to work out every now and then). Gravity was winning the battle and I looked somewhat droopy.

Dammit, Operation Get Slim wasn't enough. I wanted to be fit, too!

Harder! Better! Faster! Stronger! 

After a lazy and difficult winter/spring I gained a couple of kilos (which was fine as at that weight I didn't have to think every single thing I was eating) but I also lost the little muscle tone I might have had before. My arms and tummy were now wobbly and my ass far from being pert. Hell, it was non-existent. Oh well, sometimes life gets you that way and you lose your motivation to challenge yourself.

In the summer, however, I picked up the tempo; concentrated on endurance and strength, started running and worked hard on my core. I have since become somewhat "bigger", I certainly do not look hungry anymore and I've gained more muscle around my formerly stick thin limbs. Yet my weight has stayed the same. Peculiar, eh? A girl can look very different in the same weight, I now know. Tummy is no longer the wobbly balloon it used to be but quite nicely sucked and tucked in (which is a wonderful thing for an apple shaped girl like me).

I bought a dress last November when I was at my lowest weight but I always felt I couldn't do the dress justice with my frame and so I tucked it away in the closet. And there it stayed, hidden, as I tried to forget I used to be size EUR34.

Today I took it out, being curious if I could still fit in. Would my tummy bulge out like it used to? Would my ass nearly fall out of it?

Eeeeek. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

Oh. Ok. It's not even tight?!

So, even though I've gained a couple of kilos since I bought the dress, I now fit it....better? With some thick black tights I have a nice Autumn outfit ready and won't be looking like a sausage roll.
















How absolutely refreshing. Usually things go the other way for me. I think I can fit into something and then regret ever trying the garment on. But not this time. :)
















Hoorray, now pass me that croissant, please...

Bern

An hour or so by train and we were whisked away to the Swiss capital: Bern.

Don't get me wrong. Where we live is ok. But oh my... I was hit by a severe case of Canton Envy when I saw Bern.

We've been pretty isolated where we live (for various of reasons) for a long time so now that we finally have an opportunity to discover Switzerland, the contrast is hitting home. Big time.

I had totally forgotten how nice it feels to understand and to be understood. I studied German in the past but thought it was long lost in the labyrinth of my limited linguistic brain as I never had to use it. Wrong! I do understand it, written especially. Swiss German sounds a little odd to my ear (even though one of my oldest and dearest friend is Swiss and speaks Swiss German so I've been exposed before) but I do get an odd word here or there every now and then. That's about 900% more than my understanding of French. And being isolated in a French speaking city with a very French attitude, being exposed to German made me feel like home. How odd!
....Or maybe it was all the Marimekko and Iittala I saw....?

I fell in love with Bern then second I stepped out the train station. So much so we made not one but two day trips there. First time (Saturday) was a very general one and then a more detailed tour on Monday. And both my husband and I were just sighing away as we fell more and more in love with the place the more we saw it. This was the kind of Switzerland I had in mind (and I was more familiar with) before we moved.

People were less pushy and grumpy, we got really good service everywhere we went, I wasn't the tallest/blondest woman around and I felt like I pretty much fitted in. :) The city was bigger but not too big, it was clean without feeling sterile.... Simply wonderful. I'm not surprised most Nordics end up in the German speaking part and love living in CH (which I never did, before this anyways) as it feels much more like home (only on steroids) than where we are living at the moment.

"Oh what the hell... Close enough, I say!"

Right there and then my husband swore that we'd only "suffer" (we're not suffering, really) in our surroundings for a year/two years more and then we try to settle in the German speaking part or go back to the Nordics as we feel more comfortable there. I guess my smile was so wide he had to say it. ;)

....Or maybe it was these random little guys that stole his heart:

When we get a few more days off again, we continue discovering this beautiful little country. Stay tuned!