Cheese!

If you were not a big fan of 'Swiss' cheese when you were a kid, please raise your hand. I know, I can't see you, but I'm willing to bet more than a few of you raised your hands. The Swiss cheese of my childhood was sour and rubbery. Guess what? The stuff I was avoiding is as close to Swiss cheese as a soy burger is to a t-bone. A bit dramatic, maybe, but not too far off the mark. Cheese does not stay in the refrigerator long in our house. Granted, our refrigerator is not American-size, but you get my point. My daughter, whom I would not classify as an adventurous eater, has become a rabid fan of a traditional winter dish here, called 'raclette.' It's basically melted cheese, but there is nothing basic about it. First of all, there are many kinds of cheese to choose from when planning this dish. Second, preparing it is an entertainment all by itself. We are now the proud owners of a raclette maker, a device that allows you to melt slabs of cheese under a broiler, which you then pour over steamed potatoes, or crusty bread. It is usually served with tiny pickles (cornichons) and onions, and a plate of sliced meats (charcuterie). Add a cold beer, and ...well, my mouth is watering. Winter or not, many Saturday evenings will find us gathered around the coffee table, melting cheese until we can't eat another bite. Wonder what my LDL looks like?!

Winter Wonderland

It's snowing in Geneva. D'uh! Well, it doesn't usually snow that much in the city. Definitely nearby, because we are surrounded by mountains. My daughter Emilie bounced into my room this morning crowing with excitement. We've been living in Seattle for the past few winters, where snow is a rarity. Adults tend to see snow as a nuisance. We have to get to work, or do errands. The car needs snow tires, we have to shovel the driveway, etc. Growing up and taking on responsibilities tends sap the spontaneity out of us. But when I took the dogs out this morning, grumbling because I really did not want to get out of my warm bed, some of their excitement rubbed off on me. It's Saturday, and the only thing on our agenda is homework. The snow has been falling since early this morning and has the freshness and magic only new snow
can. The apartment is cozy, the coffee is hot. All I have to do (apart from answering the occasional question about cell division)is sit here and watch the flakes fall. Maybe we'll go out later and throw snow at each other.

La Serenissima

Venice is a city of contradictions. It is as impossibly lovely as it is fraying and down at the heels. Its main thoroughfares are crowded with stalls selling cheap trinkets, it's canals are often littered with trash. Yet if you follow some of these narrow, winding streets past the noise and tourists or take a gondola ride away from the Grand Canal, you find yourself gone back in time. The gondola glides under lace like bridges, the damp cobblestones lead to small exquisite churches and quiet, leafy squares. The only sound is the tap tap of your footsteps or the slap of water against the hull. When I visited with my children, we were all captivated. My daughter Emilie vowed to return there to live. We ate gelato and pizza. We traveled up and down the Grand Canal on the vaporetti (water buses), had the most luxurious hot chocolate ever (and the most expensive!)in St. Mark's Square, and bought blown glass and cheap umbrellas ( that blew up in the wind after one day's use). Among the many questions I was left with: why on earth would any one build a city like this in a lagoon? How do its modern citizens keep the sea at bay? How much longer can it possibly stay afloat? At least long enough for me to return.

Where'd she get those boots?!

I am in a constant state of lust. Oh, don't worry, it's not what you think. It's...shoes. Geneva is not Paris. What I mean to say is, it's not a high fashion capital, but it is a major western European city and many of it's citizens are ex-pats, working in high level jobs at multinational corporations. That means money. And I see evidence of that every morning and afternoon on my treks to and from school with the kids. Like many women I know, I love shoes. I do not have a huge collection and I generally wear the same ones till they wear out, but who doesn't love to look? What got me in a tizzy of longing this morning was a pair of knee hi gray suede boots with a flat heel. I was sorely tempted to ask the lucky owner where she bought them, but thought better of it. Probably would have choked at the price tag anyway. One thing I would like to know about these so lushly dressed women:where do they go after dropping off their children? Laundry? Walking the dog? Dressed like that? Doubt it! I am assuming that they are not trotting off to work. More likely an espresso with other similarly shod companions. Don't get me wrong, I'm not envious, though I would love to have those boots.

Biking In Heels?

How do the Swiss get around? In Geneva, they use everything from feet to Lamborghinis (there is actually one of those parked in the garage next to our plain old leased BMW!).
In between the two are bikes, scooters, the public system which includes trams and buses, and all types of motor bikes. The public option is great. It's clean and efficient and can get you pretty much anywhere you need to go in a reasonable amount of time. A monthly pass costs about $70, or you can pay by the ride. I have had my pass checked two times since I have been here and my husband, who rides the tram to and from work every day, has not ever had to show his. I'm sure there are a few riders who don't pay, but I can't see this working in New York!
Scooters are mostly the choice of school kids. In fact, my 12 year old daughter has been begging for one. I have seen men in business suits using them, but the best had to be the tiny
blond schoolboy in his uniform clipping along on his equally tiny plastic scooter, followed by his impeccably dressed 'maman'.
I would not want to risk my health commuting on a bicycle here, but there are plenty of hardy folk who do. There are dedicated bike lanes on most major streets and you see everyone from women in heels to college students using them. How about transporting furniture, or suitcases by bike? Seen it! Gotta work off all that cheese somehow!

What's New?

I don't really mean what's new in the literal sense of the word, but my brain has been feeling very active lately, and I can only explain it by cataloguing all of the novel stimuli it has been getting. The obvious ones, like food and language, are on the list, of course, but there are also more specific things. For example,  the girls and I walk home from school on sunny days and look for the tiny lizards  that warm themselves on the stone walls of the nearby cemetery. It's autumn, so the trees (don't know what kind they are)are dropping interesting looking pods onto the sidewalk. There is a vendor selling roasted chesnuts in the town square. Haven't tried one yet, but I could probably gather enough of them myself  to roast if I felt so inclined.  I bought a bunch of sunflowers in the same square ('tournesols', answered a  fellow shopper when I asked for the French word)  for the appartment last week. The quiet in our neighborhood on weekend mornings is wonderful, but so is the chatter of school kids going home for lunch at noon. The smell of olives at the Sunday market is enough to make me swoon with pleasure. Ha! The name of the business on the side of that truck is a pun, and I got the joke! I guess I am feeling like a newborn, but the difference between me and an infant (aside from the wrinkles around my eyes) is that I am aware of the fact that my brain is behaving like a sponge, and it's a fantastic sensation.

Coconutty

Please forgive the punny title, but this is a nutty story. Yesterday was my husband's 50th birthday. Since we are far from friends and family, and I was unable to throw him a big party, I wanted to make sure he at least had his favorite cake, which is German Chocolate. Most of the ingredients are easily available here: eggs, butter, flour, etc. However, coconut, which is one of the most important, is another story. I checked a few of the larger grocery stores. I was shown coconut milk, coconut cream powder, but no shredded coconut. German Chocolate Cake is not German Chococolate Cake without coconut. So, I did what cooks did before food came in neat little packages. I bought a real coconut. I remember my father using a screwdriver and a hammer to open one up for us kids way back when, so I brought the thing home, got out the tools, and had at it. Coconuts have several soft spots (I think they're called eyes) on one end, which I pierced with the screwdriver, releasing the liquid. Then I smacked at the thing, probably shaking the whole building, finally opening up a small crack, which I prized open with the screwdriver. The scene from Castaway was in the back of my mind as I did this. If I am ever stranded on a deserted island, I hope I have a hammer with me!!
Anyway, I did not end up with shredded coconut, but I managed to chop enough to do the job. I am woman, hear me roar! The cake was delicious, by the way.

I Had to Pinch Myself

As many of you already know, I have moved, along with my husband Donald and my daughters Zoe and Emile, who, by the way, turned 12 on Friday(!)  If you have kept up with the Thomas family, you might be thinking,"Oh, they've moved again, what's new." This is not your typical relocation. We are living in Geneva, Switzerland, home of the United Nations, the Red Cross, and many of the most expensive watches in the world. In December of last year, Donald was offered a job with the international offices of a Japanese firm. We didn't have to think too long or hard to make a decision. The  US economy being what it is lately, accepting the offer was pretty much a no brainer. Besides, Paris would be a short flight away, as would London, Rome, Athens, etc. Donald had several interviews, then we waited, biting our fingernails, for the Swiss authorities to authorize his work visa.  The wheels of bureaucracy move slowly, even here, where the reputation for neatness and organization is well known. Once we were given a green light, it was full speed ahead. Donald's first day of work was to be May 1. It was already April. Yikes! Lots to do. I don't think I had a spare minute from May to the end of June. But we all got here, despite misplaced passports and much confusion re the correct paperwork for transporting pets.
Now, the girls are settled in school, Donald is enjoying his work and I am finally using the French I studied in high school and college oh so many years ago. We have visited 2 chateaux, been through the Mont Blanc Tunnel,  where we lunched on the other side in Italy, spent 3 days in Paris, where the afore mentioned pinching was necessary (the Eiffel Tower by night!) and continue to explore locally.
My plan for this blog is to share my discoveries and observations as I navigate this new city.
That's all for now. A Bientot!