Vices and Wiesses

Sorry that it's been so long since I last posted, but it has been a pretty hectic week here. It started with a trip to Austria (details forthcoming) and followed up with a test in International Business (me?) and ended with a final paper about Swiss Direct Democracy, so please excuse my sloth-like posting time.

Last Thursday I hopped on a train to Salzburg, Austria, with 4 other friends. It was an overnight train, so I booked this sweet little bed (they call it a couchette just to be difficult). When we arrived at 4:45 AM, it was obvious that the hills were alive. The city was absolutely stunning. The morning quickly turned into day as the the fraus ventured off for their musical tour of Salzburg and Zach and I went searching for a beer brewing monastery atop one of the bluffs overlooking the city. Our success in discovering it quickly melted into disappointment. What kind of brewery is not open at 1000 hours?

Alas, we rejoined with the girls and continued our journey through the city and actually gained access to the brewery and drank a few liters and split. That's right, we saw the whole city in 14 hours--at least I enjoyed what little we did see. We hopped the next train to Vienna and crashed as soon as we hit the pillows in our hostel.

The next day, we woke up and hit a large flea market on our way into town. Few people bought anything, but it was a good time. Immediately after, we walked to a restaurant that serves a bit of local cuisine and we ate some wiener schnitzel (for those of you who don't know, it derives from Wien, which is Vienna in German, thus making it schnitzel from Vienna). I hijacked a mug on our way out. Ginnie guilt tripped me a bit, but I would soon get her back.

We ventured about the city, saw the Opera house and the Habsburg palace. They ruled. After returning to the hostel, Molly didn't feel so well and Abby, Ginnie, Zach and I sat around waiting for her to feel better. Abby left us that night to return to Geneva while Zach and Molly serenaded Ginnie and I with the Elephant Love Song Medley.

The next day, we saw just about everything. We went to a excavated temple that was ruined in the 16th century, saw inside the St. Stephen's cathedral, and walked the streets. We also ate gelato--two times.

We left for home that night and caught the train back to Geneva from Zurich with about 1 minute to spare. We also barely made it home in time for Monday morning class, again about 1 minute to spare.

In addition to the past, I will post you on the future. I am heading to Paris Monday morning to meet up with my dad his his girlfriend, Kathy. I am excited. We will stay there a few days and then head to Interlaken, Switzerland, and finally back to Geneva before seeing them off Tuesday and 7.

A Bientôt

FYI--You can view more pictures (many more) by going to www.facebook.com and signing up and then friending me. If you do that, you will see pictures from my entire time over here-100's of them. Enjoy.

Day to Day

Life here in Geneva really isn't all the different than in Indiana or Illinois. You make friends. You go to class. You do inappropriate things at night. I guess the difference is I don't go to a different state every weekend in America, although I probably could if I had the type of money I do now here all the time. My biggest problem in the next two weeks is to figure out how to get a hair cut explaining what I want in French.

Last weekend I took a much needed break from the weekend routine and went to Paris to visit my mom. She was there for work; I needed something new. I bought my ticket and headed up. It was one of my favorite things so far. The city is nicer than I imagined--and I've come to slowly realize that my anti-France edge is dulling. Although I will admit that my favorite thing in all of Paris was a Lebanese restaurant and an obelisk from Ancient Egypt. We spent time together and it was exhilarating. Thanks, mom. I love you.

The weekend before that I spent in Madrid. I never finished my weekend summary, but trust me, it was a excellent time. I really think this is the most exciting thing I've done with my life, but I hope it wont be the most exciting for the duration.

Food is expensive here. So is booze. And cigarettes (I don't smoke, but I know people that do). Cigarettes also say "Warning: You will die younger because of smoking" or "Warning: Your child will be deformed from your smoking" or "Warning: You will die painfully because of smoking". I think you get the point. Why doesn't everyone else? It's a smoke infested environment over here. It's come to the point where you stick out if you DON'T smell like smoke.

Being here has brought out both the best and the worst in me. I've realized all my faults and all of other peoples. I wont name them, but I'm guessing a specific few of you could guess pretty easily. On the other hand, I've always told myself I am independent--moreso than the average joe I know. I've now realized that this really is true. I'm still offering an open invitation to come visit me.

This coming weekend I'm showing the girl in me. Myself and 3 friends are traveling to Austria (girly, I know). We will start our journey in Salzburg with the "Sound of Music" tour and end it in Vienna.

I know I've been pretty poor about keeping contact with most of you. Please forgive me as it has been one new experience after another and I hope that this will suffice in keeping contact with you. If not, please send me an email. Beyond that, I've also been pretty bad at posting on here regularly (once a week isn't the best record) and my pictures have lagged behind recently as well. I will do my best to avenge my wrongdoings, but please be patient.

I'm sure I have more to say, but instead of rambling, I would like to depart with a simple piece of advice. Some may call it a Nugget of Wisdom.

We're not all that different from them. Religion is a bunch of dividing factors. Race as well. But in the end, we all have the same goals, ideas, and aspirations: subsist, protect our family and interests, and to be the best. The latter is the most dangerous.

A bientôt.

Estaba en España

In search for a real adventure, I opted to spend my latest weekend in España's capital, Madrid. It sure was an adventure.

The plane ride was quick and short--a mere 90 minutes from gate to gate. Customs was a breeze and I received my first stamp in my passport (although one of my fellow travelers apparently got yelled at while proceeding through customs). After advancing through the aeropuerto to the metro, I diligently asked the information desk where my hotel was--she gave us excellent directions.

After precisely following said directions to Hotel Villagarcia and failing to find it, I realized I asked her for directions to Hotel Villagarcia, not Hostal Villagarcia. The adventure began.

The starting point was the North East side of the city. The end point was a long walk aways--notwithstanding the lack of directions. One hour later, success. Hostal Villagarcia was within grasp. We rang the bell and I politely told the owner (in Spanish) that I made a reservation. In response, he politely told me "Full occupancy".

"Where can I find another Hostal? Can you, perchance, suggest one?"

"Right down the street is another one, try there. If not, I have no clue. Everyone is booked."

"Gracias." We left and ventured on. Luckily, the second Hostal (Hostal Palacios) did have a room for 60E per night. We thought it was a good deal so we say sure.

We ventured through the city for the day--drinking sangria (for those sangria-virgins, find out how to make it and do it), eating paella (same for this) and snacking on Tapas. We saw the sights (including Puerto del Sol, Plaza Mayor [with dancing horses], Palacio Real, and Museo del Prado). Siesta came early then it was out to the bars.

We went to bed late, but for Madrileños, it was quite early. We woke up around 11 and got some coffee from Starbucks. Yes, that's right, I'm American. We hopped on the Metro towards some tourism fair--it sucked.

For now I feel neither the motivation, inspiration, or dedication to continue on. It's been a pretty rough week. Enjoy my first half of Madrid. The rest is yet to come.

Hasta Luego

Skiing the Alps

Woke up early Friday (actually, an hour earlier than necessary) to go to the Train Station. Train to Gryon was quick and quiet. Once in Bex, we traveled to Gryon via Cog Train--it was exciting.

We checked into our Hostel around 10. They call it Chalet Martin. It was an enjoyable place that was packed with Australians (did anyone know that Friday was Australia Day?). We took the Cog Rail even further up to Villars and rented skis and hopped on a Gondola to the top of the mountain.

Skiing was decent enough. We were able to drink some Vin Chaud at the top of the mountain (hot wine). Shortly after, one of our group tore up her knee pretty bad and needed a bit of assistance from the SOS. That put a dent in our day. We left shortly after that and returned to the Hostel.

Dinner was Tuna, Nutella, and Bread. We hung out with the Aussies a bit and took an Australia Quiz (apparently Eliane Bettis was not the first person to say "Maybe the dingo ate your baby").

Next morning started with a train ride back to Bex and then to St. Maurice. We were searching for some Thermal Pools but the bus schedule was so screwy (very different than the normal, punctual buses of Switzerland) that we decided to hike up to a little Church on top of a cliff called Chapelle du Scex. Supposedly it was 1600 steps up to the Chapel on the edge of a cliff. Quite intimidating but very beautiful once we got to the top.


The climb back down was very scary. Ice was melting and crumbling down on top of us. Oh well.

After returning to the Hostel, we went out to dinner with a few chaps from Boston University (who are staying in Geneva as well). I had some Escargot with Zach and then a Thai Beef salad. Fun times. The rest is history--only providence can judge us from here.

A Beintôt

First excursion

Friday came and went downtown Geneve.

Saturday morning we went to the Train Station at 0600 to hop on a 0700 train to Luzern. Exciting ride.

Once in Luzern, we traveled to our Hotel on foot. Small, quaint, family place called Hotel Garni Spatz. We ripped them off (we put 4 people in a 2 person Room).

We took a Bus to Mt. Pilatus and paid 30 CHF to go to the Summit. The view was worth it (and the Gondola ride up was fun).


Once back in Town, we saw the sights. We went to the Bridge (you know, that famous one), the Lion (the dying one...who knows what he represents? Really, do you know?), and the Casino. We ate dinner in the best vegetarian Restaurant in town (how was I supposed to know, the menu was in Suisse German) and drank some good beer.


After dinner we went to Mr. Pickwicks Hotel and Pub (where people sleep) and got invited to a table by some Suisse Germans. They immediately began to whistle Hail to the Chief--maybe they can see the future? We left them alone after they asked us to buy the next round.

Our pub crawl began in "Cheers" (they didn't know my name--or English) and went on to a Spanish Tapas Bar, then another Pub and back to Pickwicks. Fun night in all.

The next morning we left for Bern. Pretty city, but Sundays are always dead in European Cities so we just walked around and went to the top of the Church there (I think it was Munster Cathedral) and got more panoramic pictures. I ate some awesome Rösti there (it's a half pancake half hash brown plate full of onions and sausage and butter).

On the way Home I solved the Rubicks cube for the first time. I also saw da Bears win da Game and now they're going to da Superbowl. Too bad I wont be in da Chicago or da Indiana. Ok, enough of da da's and enough of this post.

A Bientôt.

Caged and Abused

19.1.07 2213
Disclaimer: All words written here are entertainment and might have happened, but each event did.

Today is worth writing about. Today, not even a picture could describe my stories, so a thousand words (or so) will have to cut it.

Normal day today (if by normal I mean walking a marathon in Km in the AM then nearly dying after being locked up).

I’m going to save you the pain of reading the habitual activities of my normal day in the morning and early afternoon and skip right to the good—nay, great—stories.

Zach and I (remember my fellow IU-ian?) took a chance and walked to the Airport with somewhat poor directions. But really, it was a simple hop-skip-and a jump away. The walk there was uneventful and of little evidence of what was to come. Zach, who initiated this trip in order to cash out an undisclosed amount of cashiers checks, was heading towards the AmEx counter when I spotted a Duty Free store. We had little to do tonight besides pack, so we figured we’d stop by the Store after the AmEx to pick up some entertainment, duty free of course.

In order to get into this Store, there was a set of automated doors that one has to walk through (they actually are the doorway into France—I’ve walked there twice). So we walk in and stop at the Store. Zach, in his facil français, asks the woman if we need tickets to buy items Duty Free. She says yes, so we leave. We leave…

The door in had a “Do Not Enter” sign and above that, in French, it said “Pas Sortie”. The only place to go was into line for customs to cross into France. Up to the Counter we go.

“Parlez-vous français?”

“Non, mais tu parles le français bien.”

Zach turns to me, “Kevin, your French is better than mine, tell him we don’t want to be here.”

“Ok, nous na voulons pas être ici.”

“Ah, desolée.”

“Est-ce que nous pouvons sortir”

“Ah, you made mistake.” (this is my non-English speaking French compadre. Very funny ass).

“Ouis.”

“You can leave ::presses button and hidden door opens::, bye.”

We made it to Suisse. We left the airport defeated. One might think we were done, but never doubt my fortitude.

Once back onto fresh Suisse soil and breathing fresh Suisse air (ever breathed French air?), we continued our journey back. We joked a bit about our excursion and temporary imprisonment on French soil, and vowed revolution. In the middle of our vows, a 18-22 year old ‘boy’ walked by us. He wore a blue puffy jacket, baggy jeans, and was listening to his iPod. He was a bit on the stout side, and would also be considered short. Oh, he also wore a genuine leather belt. He looked at me; I looked at him. It was a consensual look. I continued on nonchalantly.

.276 seconds later, I heard “blah blah blah quoi?” (That’s what French sounds like when you don’t listen carefully.) Zach and I both turn around in symphony and look at this foreigner on our soil.

I respond in American, “What?” and even act un peu bedazzled.

In response, he begins to remove his belt. Yes, his genuine leather belt was beginning to be removed from his pants while looking, with his angriest face, like he could take two on one.

My first thought: “This punk wants my recently withdrawn money…we’ll see who wins this one.”

My second though: “Maybe he is looking to trade sexual favors…”

Thirdly: “He likes my belt—maybe I should take mine off and trade with him.”

In reply, Zach says, “Not now, thanks,” and we both walk off quickly. Way to avert a sexual/violent disaster. It is possible that my superior size scared him off, or that he was so confused by our refusal at his attempt at malicious behavior.

A Bientôt

Top to bottom: Herny Dunant and myself; Zach, Nicole and I riding horses in Geneva; Myself at Chateau Chillon; Amy, Kyle, Zach and I after Antonio's