Dear runner

Dear runner in the red shirt, black hat and yellow Asics:

You don't know me, but you made my day today. I've been, well, let's say slacking "slightly" in the running department as of late, but my new-found flab and the infamous Geneva winds finally got me out the door today. Notice I say "out the door" and not "out on a stellar run".

Fifteen minutes on the go and four ridiculously overplayed songs later, I was ready to call it quits. Half hour later, I was sweating buckets, turning purple as a prune and heaving like ... well, I don't even know a metaphor that compares.

But then I found you.

Calm, cool, collected and clearly no amateur, you reminded me of the lessons running once taught me - before I seem to have gone into running hibernation and forgotten them all.

You reminded me that life (and runs) are journeys to be savoured - not sped through. You reminded me that your own rythym is the only one that ever really matters. As I counted the beat of your steps and mine, you reminded me that all we really have to do is put one foot in front of the other. As we hit the one hour mark, you reminded me that running - like life - is 95% psychological, 5% physical. You reminded me of the power of running.

Maybe you knew I was behind you, and knew the favour you were doing me by serving as my pacer as I silently marked my pace in perfect synchronization with yours just 15 feet behind. Maybe,you were lost in your own runner's world where all of the day's problems are solved and never even noticed I was there.

Either way, dear runner, thanks. I'll be thinking of you ... most likely when I discover muscles I never knew I had and am repeating to myself "one foot in front of the other" as I attempt to climb the stairs tomorrow...

All play and no work

Commemorating a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion, we finally got at least a fairly good chunk of the office crew out of the office and doing something together.  I seem to remember that sort of thing being termed 'team building' in the States, but it seems to be a bit of a foreign concept around these parts.

With spouses, partners and rambunctious children in tow, we ordered up (and were graciously served!) absolutely incredible weather,  powder snow and many a good laugh as poles were broken, bums were bruised, fearful mothers were dragged up to the black runs by their eight-year-olds and steaming mulled wine was  happily downed.

Did I mention I work with a great team? Or that I have the most patient partner ever when it comes to his pro ski moves and my, uh, not so pro ones?? Or that it really doesn't get much more beautiful than Switzerland??

Don't believe me?  Take a peek at some of the weekend's pictures HERE.

Survival of the fittest in the land of the Lochness Monster

This weekend can pretty much be summed up in two words: "I survived".

Ok, so perhaps I'm being a little dramatic, considering that it was in fact THE weekend of all stellar weekends, but somehow it sounds all that much more Hollywood-esque when you invoke images of our own rendition of Survivors ... with Interlaken, Switzerland as a backdrop. If all you're interested in are the pictures from the weekend, you'll find them here, but if you're looking for any kind of possible distraction from the Monday work blues, feel free to read on ...

You know you're a survivor when you live to tell about ...

1. Three testosterone-filled days as the only representative of the XX chromosome population ... for a weekend identified as (the following must be said in a deep, ar-ar-ar manly voice ...) The "bier und fleisch fest" (aka "beer and meat fest").

2. Swiss National Day fireworks/3 foot bottle rockets, lit off by the above mentioned XY population, slightly under the influence of cool summer beverages.

3. The confines of a horrendously stinky neoprene wet suit + moon boots + painfully small helmet.

4. Hypothermia inducing glacial river rapids supposedly classified as a class IV (the highest permissible for river rafting in Switzerland) ... without falling out of the boat ... unlike our friend, who decided to "go for a swim" and test his boat's rescue skills along with the ginormous man next to him.

5. Dive into the impossibly turquoise waters of Lake Brienz thinking that, with those colours, it must be tropically warm ... only to realise you've committed a grave mistake that even your neoprene suit cannot fully remedy. But then again, at least the full line-up of lakeside tourists were there to document the event as your body began to lose colour from the cold ...

5. Being starving after a day of rafting and no food. No, we weren't such genuine "Survivors" material that we went out and hunted our own food ... but really, who knew that it might not be the hottest idea to inhale the cold beer and abysenthe under the hot sun ... and on empty stomachs ... while the BBQ was warming up?

6. Not getting kicked out of the campgrounds when the XY population, following the scenario described above, decide that taking additional beverages + floaty toys to the pool sounds like a brilliant idea. Particularly brilliant, "surfing" down the slide on the inflatable mattress with beer in hand ... covering the bottle opening to protect its contents, of course.

7. Cervela. (See photo at left. Not the man, the thing in his hand.) I'm told it's the most infamous Swiss sausage, but really, there's not telling what they use to make the stuff ... and yet, heaven forbid if we ever have a BBQ without it.

8. Your first-ever Hooters experience, again, in the exclusive company of the XY population, one of whom doesn't seem to remember ever having been there ...

9. Not ending up in jail when your ever-so-tipsy comrades decide that it sounds like a brilliant idea to seek out and chat with each and every one of the five million police officers and security guards in the city of Interlaken en route chez nous.

10. You spend an entire weekend in the glorious sunshine and manage not to get sunburned.

A little round ball and the craze of a continent

No, it's not a UFO, it's a 1.5 MILLION DOLLAR balloon that someone had the brilliant idea to float on top of the infamous Geneva fountain in honor of the Euro Cup football championships (as seen from my house ... ). I should try and dig up a photo as it appears from its "rightful" place on top of the fountain, but in the meantime I'll put it this way - the first time I saw it walking out of the office, my first thought was "how the hell did THAT get by the city beauty committee??" And that was BEFORE I knew how much money was being spent on it.

Make matters worse, the thing has to be lowered any time the wind picks up to more than 10 knots (not an infrequent phenomenon when you're talking about a lake in a valley in the alps ...) - and my trusty source of morning news has reported that it's costing them 10,000 CHF every time it has to be raised or lowered. And that was before it got a hole in it and had to be sent to London for repairs ..... (wish I could say I had been the one to put a BB gun to it!)

If nothing else though, the event is providing plenty of entertainment. As one poster I saw today said, the once-every-four-years EuroCup does not equal party, it equals business, and business it has been (though there's certainly been a fair share of party too :-) . Soccer balls are appearing in all shapes and forms, and national flags and clothing everywhere you turn ... the city lampposts have had their covers replaced with ones in a soccer ball form, the tourist info center has laid down astro turf and constructed a giant goal post as an entry, the chocolotiers are producing nothing but balls, all of the flower boquets at the florists have balls attached to them, every other balcony has a flag hanging down, school kids dressed in the jersey and long socks of their favorite football idol run rampant, air horns and ceaseless honking is heard all day - only to quadruple in force at 20h and 22h when the two games of the night are over, tour buses roll into town from all over Europe carrying crazed fans with banners plastered to the windows and luxurious buses carrying the teams are followed by police escorts and more crazed fans at every turn.

Too bad the Swiss are already out of the runnin' ....

Hopp Schwiiz!!

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Woman in a man's world

I've been looking for a just-for-fun-with-a-little-friendly-competition soccer team/club/league ever since I arrived in Geneva, without much luck at all.

One day, when I was feeling particularly ambitious in my search, I wandered over to the nearby stadium and started poking my head around looking for someone who might know something. In fact, I naively poked my way straight into the men's locker room (oddly enough, not one of of the row of 20 boys - ranging to men - seated in the entry of the locker room bothered to forewarn me...). Having turned a 360 degree circle and seeing more men's bottoms than I had intended to see that afternoon, I then exited the locker room and somewhat bemusedly asked one of the (presumably) coaches seated outside if he knew where I might get info about women's or co-ed leagues. He gave me a look as if I really were from Venus than proceeded say that, well, he knows about teams for little girls ...

So imagine my excitement last week when I saw an ad for a pick-up soccer group looking for players! I jumped on the phone, secured my spot (after being assured that Ronaldino and Beckham were not on the roster) and happily joined the troops at the agreed upon spot to play. Of course I imagined they would be a bit short on estrogen, but I didn't really think I would really be the ONLY representative of the female population.

And no, I don't mean the only woman in our group of 12, I mean THE ONLY WOMAN IN THE ENTIRE SPORTS COMPLEX. Funny what sterotypes can mean sometimes ... when I first talked to the captain he said "now you're American, right? It's great when the American and Australian girls come because they can actually play - a lot of times they're even better than our guys." And it's true ... in the States a lot of girls grow up playing soccer ... in Europe, very, very few do.

Being the lifetime female sports lover that I am, it never even remotely crossed my mind to change before going to the sports complex. Places like that ALWAYS have bathrooms, lockers and showers. Then again, places like that always have those things in the States ... here they were only for men. Don't get me wrong, I am by no means a man-hater and these guys were are gracious as ever, but it didn't take long to figure out that, not only was there no women's lockerroom in the building, there was not women's toilet ... in the ENTIRE BUILDING.

Ever so kindly, the guys offered to clear out the men's lockerroom and stand sentinel at the door so none of the other teams would come in or, when I declined that offer, to wait outside of the court while I changed (shall I mention that the court had a 2nd floor viewing deck and glass windows down an entire side??). I declined that as well ... and changed in the corner of the hallway ... across from a window onto the courts and as the b-ball teams walked by, but it was the best spot I could find.

Honestly, it was one of those incredulous things that you just have to laugh about. But more honestly, it makes you think just what it must have been like to be among the first female athletes just a generation ago ... just fighting to get a private corner to change in before the big game.

All in a weekend's adventures

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It's funny the little wonders of life you so easily take for granted.  Spain is beautiful, and as I was reminded last weekend seeing everyone in Barcelona sporting tanktops, it is (almost) always sunny.  Switzerland is also beautiful.  It is not almost always sunny.  And yet, these past few weeks walking to work in the morning amid an eery fog blanket and the crisp cold of autumn air has been curiously exciting ... I feel like a little kid seeing the leaves of fall change color and fall. 

With the end of pleasant outdoor weather not far off the horizon, this weekend was full of outdoor adventures.  Seeing as the Lavaux region (on Lake Leman between Montreaux and Lausanne) is renowned for its acres and acres of vineyards we decided to hit the trails there on Saturday, hoping for views of the mountains, pleasant strolls through the perfectly groomed terraces and a few full filled stops at the wineries themselves to make sure that their products were up to snuff.  As luck would have it though, October seemed to be a bit out of prime winery season, leaving the vineyards picked clean and sporting changing autumn leaves and the wineries teasing us through closed doors.  Nonetheless, the area is beautiful and dotted with such quaint towns as St. Sepharin and Vevey... 

Sunday was slated for more serious hiking ... in the Abondance Valley of the Chablais, to Mont de Grange.  Again, BEAUTIFUL weather - our 5 hour hike with some 1163 meter (aka steep!) was topped off with INCREDIBLE 360 degree panoramis views at the summit that made it possible to see as far as the Swiss-German Alps.  Talk about feeling small and insignificant in the world ... natural beauty has an amazing way of humbling.