A Guy, a Tram and the Giant Baguettes

After another long day at the office, I was headed home.  Since it requires a bit of a tram ride home, I was passing the time with some mindless surfing on my iPhone. 

For those not familiar with tram etiquette, you simply get on the tram and sit in any seat that is available.  You don’t ask for permission, nor do you acknowledge the person who happens to sit beside you.   Antisocial?  Perhaps, but after a long day, you sometimes appreciate not having to engage in conversation with a stranger.   I have to admit however, this was difficult for the chatty Canadian within me.  Initially when I moved here, I tried to engage my seatmates in conversation.  It didn’t work.  In short, it was unwanted.  Perhaps they thought I was crazy, I don’t know. 

So back to the end of my very long day.  The tram came up to another stop.  People were getting on and off the crowded tram and I happened to glance up and notice a particular guy.  He was weighed down with a bunch of groceries while also embracing the longest baguettes I have ever seen.  It somehow amused me.  I wondered what the story was with the cute guy in front of me, and why he dragging around half a grocery store and where he found such massive baguettes.  I guess he caught me looking at him, and seized the moment to sit down beside me.  My iphone once again regained my undivided attention.  That was until he placed the armload of baguettes across my lap.   At this moment I glanced over at my seatmate.  He met my gaze with a look that I will never forget and with it his eyes pleaded with mine, “I know my baguettes are on your lap, but do you think we could just manage to live through this awkward moment?  I would really appreciate it.”  Amused I went back to my phone.  I could feel the eyes of others on the tram trying as well to make sense of the situation. 

So we continued.  My stop came first.  As we pulled up, I signaled my seat partner that it was now time for me to leave, and that he should probably gather his baguettes.  He did.  No words were spoken – but somehow, that shared moment touched me.  It lightened the weight of the hard day I was carrying and pulled me from the completely self-absorbed moment.  I could feel the guy’s gratitude that I didn’t create a drama – both of us well aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.  

I don`t know if there was a particular lesson from this odd experience – other than this moment made me happy in some weird way.  Perhaps only that sometimes being nice can somehow make the day for everyone involved.

Call me Nadia

I have started on a matcha latte kick.  Every work day afternoon I duck out of the office and round the corner to the nearest Starbucks.

(Before I go on any further I must clarify something.  I don"t normally do Starbucks here in Europe.  To me that is an American, or a North American thing and I really do not wish to be one of "those" people that frequent what they have back home.  However, this is the only place near me that I know of where I can get a matcha latte.)

Matcha lattes are kind of gross for those people who have never had one before.  They taste like warm, liquid grass.  They also look like warm, liquid grass.  Yuck.  Why do I drink them?  That is a reasonable question.  Answer is, I am not sure.  I just do.  It is like me against the gross green goo and by drinking it I win.  A small victory on a busy afternoon.

So the team at Starbucks is getting a bit used to me and my 3pm matcha run.  But as soon as they see me, a flash of panic flashes across their eyes.  My name you see, causes them constant grief.  Dawn is an English name and it does not go well in these parts.  At work most people call me Antle because they think that looks more like a first name than Dawn.  I just go with it.  Some have implored upon me to adopt the use of my middle name Leigh instead to help offset the confusion. They are likely correct, but the amount of paperwork required is daunting.

At Starbucks it has come to the point now that people actually make busy when I arrive.  The whole name thing is an awkward moment for both parties. On this day the young out going guy steps up to handle me.  He starts to write my name on the cup and then shows me what he has written.  "Sure" I say at the interesting interpretation.  That is when he declares "from now on you are Nadia."  The barrister is also relieved at this declaration.

This worked out so well for everyone concerned I decided to try it elsewhere in my life.  At the store when a clerk looks puzzled at my name I throw out Nadia.  Restaurant reservations, I am Nadia.  I have discovered that in doing this,  that it is not so much my German vocabulary that is causing confusion, but my name.

Today I have to go and reserve movie tickets, I think that is a good task for Nadia...

The Explosive Gift Situation : My Version

Sometimes you cross paths with someone who immediately gets you.  From literally the first moment you meet you know that person is going to be someone special in your life.

So is the case with my guy pal.  I met him within weeks of moving to Zurich and adored how he would listen to my work stories ad nauseam (and trust me, this is no easy feat), he listened to my family related dramas and best yet he laughed at my bad jokes - and he made me laugh.  I remember one particular time; it was in fact Halloween evening last year, when he spent his evening celebrating the conclusion of a very important and exhausting project of mine.  I remember one time he was driving me home from German class and I was rambling a mile a minute, when I noticed it and commented how cool it was that he listened to my blah blah blah, he responded with a laugh and gestured around the car “Dawn, where exactly can I go?” He is also the person that made sure I had pumpkin for my much longed for Thanksgiving dinner, the one that fixes my bike, and so on - that is just the kind of friend that he is…

Pretty cool huh?  But wait, I am not finished yet.  This is going to be one long blog….

One of the other things I love about my friend is that he knows how to handle me.  I am in spirit a fighter.  Everything I have in this life I fought for – and fought hard.  So when I am determined, I can be a bit, uhm, well… lets just say difficult.  However, to this friend of mine, I am not so difficult.  So somehow he became my go-to-person when the drama of life started to get to me.  “Dawn, it sounds like you are making your own movie,” is one of my favourite lines of his when I start to lose my perspective.

It all sounds kind of perfect doesn’t it? 

Now on the other hand, he  is someone who likes to have control over any and all situations.  But then as much as he likes having everything his own way, it also bores him.  He is a bit of a walking contradiction.  Normally he picks where we will meet, when we meet, what we will do – everything.  I am okay with that because he in turn listens to my long ramblings and dramatic outbursts.  For the most part, it is a friendship that is tough to beat.

But then the trouble started.  I got in trouble for not inviting my friend to do things.  I was confused.  We talked about it, but I remained confused.  To make matters more confusing for me I tried to make a suggestion and he immediately countered it with another.  In the end we did what he wanted.  (in all fairness, he had the better idea).

One day I was thinking about him and how much his friendship meant to me.  I wanted to express it, particularly after getting in trouble.  Since my attempt at planning was quickly thwarted, I thought of a gift.  Nothing special.  It had a couple of parts, one of which was not so easy to procure.  Excited I informed him that I had “a gift” for him.  To my surprise he was excited - and started texting me and demanding to see “the gift”.  As always, he demands were full of humour and light.  So I was fun back.  Soon he gave me a gift that was cute and thoughtful which made me sorry that the last part of his gift had still not arrived.  So I decided to make him wait until he could have it all and thus the full impact.

The banter of “the gift” continued.  It was fun.  Or so I thought – until the last text.  “Dawn, I don’t even want the gift anymore.”  He was annoyed!  My longest running pal here in Zurich was literally so irritated that I felt our friendship was in serious jeopardy.  So we had a heated phone discussion – he still could not see how he was so in the wrong on this one.  A gesture intended to show my appreciation was actually causing a massive conflict.  He was in my opinion completely unreasonable.

I did what any normal female would do.  I called my mother and lamented about how I was losing a friend over a stupid gift – how annoying and unreasonable my friend was being over the whole thing.   And maybe just maybe, this friendship had run its course. 

“He is right Dawn” she said.  I am still not so sure that this is the case, but alas I apologized.  A mother is the trump card on all issues otherwise unresolvable.

I told my friend that I though we were the only two people who fought over a gift.  “You could be right” he agreed.

Until now our friendship has been easy, uncomplicated.  (okay, except for another disagreement that happened about the same time last year – but alas that is another blog)  We can relate to nearly everything in each others lives because we are so similar.  We are difficult and demanding as well as sensitive.  It really is a recipe for disaster.  However, as with all good things in life – they are not always so easy.  I am glad I was able to navigate my friend’s displeasure with me – and I am glad he was able to navigate my subsequent temper tantrum.  As a result the friendship fortunately remains intact.

But what about the gift you ask?  Well, he still hasn’t got it :)

FOOTNOTE:  My friend has asked that his version of the event follow mine, so tomorrow you can read his and decide for yourself who is the more reasonable of the two of us. 

The Kelowna Factor

I have dubbed it the “Kelowna factor”. No matter where I am in the world, if I attend an event I will run into at least one person who has visited Kelowna. I find it absolutely mind-boggling. These people fill me in on tales of visiting Summerhill Estate Winery, fishing, the Kettle Valley Railway, skiing Big White and enjoying Okanagan Lake. For a place that is not so large in size, it has sure made an impression on countless people throughout the world.

Last night was again, no exception. At a Zurich Expat group event I was asked from where I originated. And of course I was once again enlightened on Kelowna travel experiences. What makes this particularly unique is that in my travels I rarely meet other Canadians, only people who have visited Kelowna.

On another note, a fellow and I were speaking last night. As we were introduced to others our host mixed up where we were from. I was introduced as an American and the other gentleman as a Canadian. We were immediate and emphatic about clearing up that misunderstanding. Canadians are known for being a bit goofy, and American’s – well for being American and both nationalities do not wish to be mistaken for the other J

The Carnivore and the Herbivore

When you live in Switzerland, there are a few things that you will quickly note. One of the first is that in comparison to Canada meat is quite expensive. No worries for me – I am not a big meat eater anyway. The next thing you will notice is that dairy is a constant in everything. I am cool with that too. For my son (meat exclusive eater) and girlfriend (strict vegan), this is a whole other story. The two arrived yesterday ready for their month long Euro adventure. A few hours in they were already reassessing their grand plans for dining out after taking into account their student travel budgets and eating requirements. However, as every Canadian student abroad quickly discovers some things are relatively inexpensive – and easy to order.

Things That Make You Go Hmm...

A phone booth fit for Superman. Clean as heck, spacious and located on many a street corner. I don't think we even have these in Canada anymore?

Okay, I have to admit, the irony is not lost on me here. I am in Europe, surrounded by incredible beauty and history and what do I snap a picture of? A phone booth. Hmm...

The Downside

Puh.

I love the heat. Even high humidity. But I am so not loving this train at the moment. Why you ask? Cuz it is hot. Smokin’ hot. The weather outside has to be at least 32 degrees and in this train it has to be 45. I dunno if I am exaggerating or not to be honest.

Part of the problem is the train is full. Packed. So take whatever it is outside, throw in a whack of humidity and then multiple that by a train full of people. Add in an air-conditioning system that doesn’t work, windows that do not open and you might just hit 50 degrees.

My recent move to Zurich resulted in me giving up my car. I still have some; two in fact, but alas having a vehicle or two in Canada does not help me much here. When all is said and done, I would have to say that I have adapted rather well to my first month of being car-less. I tram it to work, train it to meetings. Lug my shopping on and off the first conveniently located public transport. For a Canadian, that is a pretty big thing. We love our cars. But like I said I have been getting into this train/tram thing. I mean if there is one city to give this whole car-less thing a go, it is Zurich. Its public transit system is virtually flawless. I have never had to wait more than five minutes for anything, and I never plan ahead. The convenience of not searching for and paying for parking, getting gas, and that jazz was even a bit welcome. I didn’t even mind taking the little over an hour train ride for a visit back to Dornbirn

That was until today. Now. I have to tell you, this is one hot and sweaty (yeah, I know but it is the truth) Canadian who would give just about anything to have their car back right now…

A Sluggish Sort of Run

Well, I discovered the downside of a late evening run. These snake size slimy suckers are ALL over my fav trails. Yuck.

In Love. Again.

I thought for the longest time that a passion that existed once inside me had long curled up and died. It was a little sad, because at one point and time it had been a rather active passion. However I continued to go through the motions. I have to admit it was tough. Some days were better than others, but alas, there was not even a flicker of the passion I once felt.

Today all that changed.

My new home happens to be situated in what I think is one of the most scenic parts of Zurich. Although in the middle of city, I am surrounded by green space. No matter what time of day I can see people walking and running along one of the many trails right outside my back door.

So I did too. But not before spending many a day making excuses for not lacing up and hitting one of the many trails. Finally I did. Intrigued, once day I took a trail along the stream. Narrow, it wound its way along the twists and turns of the stream. Sometimes the trail would lead to a small meadow with soccer field; another with a BBQ and fire pit, but it was all so beautifully isolated. I still cannot believe the gem I have right in my back yard.

A favourite trail of mine at the moment takes me alongside a steam, to the bottom of a mountain with so many wonderful forks; I still haven’t had to do the same trail twice. Some have cobble stone staircases in the midst of trees. Others with narrow tunnels and running fountains. In moments I cannot help but think minus the occasional sighting of cobblestones and the absence of mosquitos I could even be running through northern Ontario backcountry.

But I am not.

Years ago I loved to run. It was not a hobby – it was my passion. It was where I would ponder things. The longer I ran the more sense the world would start to make. I didn’t do it to be fit, or to win a race – although those were nice benefits – but it was for me.

Somewhere along the way, I lost it. The passion slipped away and I never found anything that really did the trick after. But alas, I found it again, nestled inside the green of Zurich city. I suppose sometimes you just have to keep at something, and sometimes something that you thought you had lost can one day be found again. But what awakens that passion is not the same thing. Before it was about distance and speed – but now not so much. It’s the diversity I have come to love, the sound of water, the tiny size of the trail, its isolation and the painful grade of the mountain that is determined to challenge and exhaust me.