Well, graceful soul that I am, I managed to fall in the shower the first day we were here. (Sounds very over-40 of me, doesn't it?) I smacked my lower back hard against the edge of the tub. After three days of occasional stabbing, sharp pains, sort of like having fiery needles rammed into my lower back, I decided to have it checked out. The x-rays showed no cracks, and my symptoms don't seem to indicate a herniated disc, so the verdict for now is that it's just one hummer of a bruise. The doctor also gave me a prescription for Lortab, a narcotic, so my plan is to become addicted to painkillers while we're here. I can now tell you that even two Lortab aren't enough to make you numb when someone is stabbing you in the back with hot needles, but they're helping. They seem to be slowing my thought processing a little bit, so this may be a short entry.
Life could be worse. At the hospital, in the bed next to me, there was an 88-year-old man. Everything had been just fine when his wife had checked on him at 5 this morning, but when she woke later at about 8:00, she found him on the floor, shivering, with scrapes on his knees. He was already suffering from gout and an infection, and he was in the early stages of dementia.
I can handle my back.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Only 23.5 hours
We blew it by not stretching the journey out to a full 24 hours, but yes, we made it. We left our house at 9:50 a.m. Swiss time on Monday and arrived at my parents' house at 9:20 a.m. Swiss time on Tuesday, which was 1:20 a.m. Utah time. Wow.
The kids were great. They watched movies most of the way on the flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis. Of course, they fell asleep for just the last hour of our nine-hour flight, so we had to wake them up, drag them through Customs, have them sit in Minneapolis for three hours, then get on the plane to Salt Lake. Lindsey fell asleep on that flight, so when we landed, we had to wake her up to get her to the rental car. Lindsey then fell asleep during the drive to the house, so we had to wake her up and get her into the house. By then, she was getting pretty cynical about this whole falling asleep thing, so she actually had trouble falling asleep once we got her in bed at the house. The kids were up bright and early at 8 this morning, so I think they're headed for a collapse about nine minutes from now.
I was able to get Tanner and myself into first class on the flight from Minneapolis to Salt Lake, and he, of course, thought that was about the coolest thing ever. He stayed awake for most of the flight, very excited about the pre-flight drink, the nice seats, the hanging up of his coat, the free Twix bar, all of that. I've probably ruined him for coach for the rest of his life.
Stace, as usual, had trouble understanding the whole issue about trying to smuggle liquids and laptops through security. In Zurich, she informed me that yes, this time, she had definitely handled all of her liquids correctly. The half-full soda bottle that security found in her bag said otherwise. Then, in Minneapolis, security nailed her for failing to take her laptop out of her bag prior to screening. While we're in the States, I'm going to enroll her in a Homeland Security seminar entitled "What We're Really Saying When We Tell You that You Can't Bring Large Amounts of Liquids Through Security and When We Tell You that You Have to Remove Your Laptop from Your Bag Before You Attempt to Go Through Security." (Some of you may not be aware of the background of Stace's attempt to smuggle large amounts of liquids through security in Minneapolis back in May. I've asked her to appear as a guest blogger to write up the entire story. It's classic Stace. I'll try to have her do that while we're here on vacation. I'll make it clear to her that this is a one-time invitation and that she should not expect to make regular contributions to the blog.)
The kids were great. They watched movies most of the way on the flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis. Of course, they fell asleep for just the last hour of our nine-hour flight, so we had to wake them up, drag them through Customs, have them sit in Minneapolis for three hours, then get on the plane to Salt Lake. Lindsey fell asleep on that flight, so when we landed, we had to wake her up to get her to the rental car. Lindsey then fell asleep during the drive to the house, so we had to wake her up and get her into the house. By then, she was getting pretty cynical about this whole falling asleep thing, so she actually had trouble falling asleep once we got her in bed at the house. The kids were up bright and early at 8 this morning, so I think they're headed for a collapse about nine minutes from now.
I was able to get Tanner and myself into first class on the flight from Minneapolis to Salt Lake, and he, of course, thought that was about the coolest thing ever. He stayed awake for most of the flight, very excited about the pre-flight drink, the nice seats, the hanging up of his coat, the free Twix bar, all of that. I've probably ruined him for coach for the rest of his life.
Stace, as usual, had trouble understanding the whole issue about trying to smuggle liquids and laptops through security. In Zurich, she informed me that yes, this time, she had definitely handled all of her liquids correctly. The half-full soda bottle that security found in her bag said otherwise. Then, in Minneapolis, security nailed her for failing to take her laptop out of her bag prior to screening. While we're in the States, I'm going to enroll her in a Homeland Security seminar entitled "What We're Really Saying When We Tell You that You Can't Bring Large Amounts of Liquids Through Security and When We Tell You that You Have to Remove Your Laptop from Your Bag Before You Attempt to Go Through Security." (Some of you may not be aware of the background of Stace's attempt to smuggle large amounts of liquids through security in Minneapolis back in May. I've asked her to appear as a guest blogger to write up the entire story. It's classic Stace. I'll try to have her do that while we're here on vacation. I'll make it clear to her that this is a one-time invitation and that she should not expect to make regular contributions to the blog.)
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Christmas Day, Part 2 of 3
Well, today was the second of our three days of Christmas. Santa visited during the night and left some things for the kids along with a note saying that they'd get the rest of their things in the States on Christmas Day. Lindsey was finally able to play with the present she'd unwrapped earlier in the week. This whole spread-out Christmas kind of dilutes the actual day, but the kids still seem to be having fun.
We're gearing up for the 23-hour odyssey on Monday. That's right--if the weather cooperates, we'll be leaving the house at 9:30 a.m. on Monday morning Swiss time, and we'll be arriving at my folks' house at about 8:30 a.m. Tuesday morning Swiss time. And there's no guarantee that the weather will cooperate. Salt Lake is looking a bit shaky.
Stace will be giving a talk in church tomorrow in German. She wrote it out in English and then had it translated into German. She's been practicing her pronunciation, which is not easy in German. We'll see if the congretation can tell that she's not Swiss.
And, finally, a big shout out to my former boss, Tim, who will be joining us at TRGR here in Zug. Rumor has it that someone sent him the link to my blog so that he could learn more about life in Switzerland. A worthy idea, to be sure, but unfortunately for Tim, this blog has a hidden agenda. Its nominal purpose is to detail our adventures in Switzerland, but its real purpose is to lovingly make fun of Stace. (She knows this and is fine with it. [I think.]) I'll keep trying to include some Swiss content, but Stace provides such a wealth of material that it kind of tends to crowd everything else out. For instance, just now, she was telling me about someone, and she said that he was "the middle of two boys in the family." You just can't make this stuff up.
We're gearing up for the 23-hour odyssey on Monday. That's right--if the weather cooperates, we'll be leaving the house at 9:30 a.m. on Monday morning Swiss time, and we'll be arriving at my folks' house at about 8:30 a.m. Tuesday morning Swiss time. And there's no guarantee that the weather will cooperate. Salt Lake is looking a bit shaky.
Stace will be giving a talk in church tomorrow in German. She wrote it out in English and then had it translated into German. She's been practicing her pronunciation, which is not easy in German. We'll see if the congretation can tell that she's not Swiss.
And, finally, a big shout out to my former boss, Tim, who will be joining us at TRGR here in Zug. Rumor has it that someone sent him the link to my blog so that he could learn more about life in Switzerland. A worthy idea, to be sure, but unfortunately for Tim, this blog has a hidden agenda. Its nominal purpose is to detail our adventures in Switzerland, but its real purpose is to lovingly make fun of Stace. (She knows this and is fine with it. [I think.]) I'll keep trying to include some Swiss content, but Stace provides such a wealth of material that it kind of tends to crowd everything else out. For instance, just now, she was telling me about someone, and she said that he was "the middle of two boys in the family." You just can't make this stuff up.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Lindsey Wood, Destroyer of Christmas
Yup. Our wonderful angel (and by "angel" I mean "small terrorist") ruined Christmas. How did a four-year-old manage such a feat? Well, I'll tell you.
For us, Christmas was going to be split into two parts. Because we fly out on the morning of the 22nd, and because we obviously can't take everything with us to the States, we were going to have part of Christmas here on the 20th and then have the rest with our families in the States on Christmas day. Stace wrapped up a bunch of presents and put them under the tree. (Side note: Yes, it's the same fake tree we've had for about ten years with the pre-strung malfunctioning lights. We vowed to get rid of it after last Christmas, but then when this whole Switzerland thing popped up, we decided to bring it with us rather than finding a new tree over here. It will not be making the return journey to U.S. soil.)
Anyway, Lindsey and Tanner had been longingly eyeing the presents under the tree, but they had done a reasonably good job of exercising self-restraint and not discovering "accidental" rips in the wrapping paper and other such inexplicable phenomena that have occurred in our family in the past. On Tuesday, Stace left the kids alone for a little while so she could go run a couple of errands. (Don't worry; we don't leave them alone for the weekend or anything like that.) A while after Stace left, Tanner called her to report that something horrible had happend: Lindsey had opened three of the presents. That's right, our little angel (and by "angel," I mean "evil spirit in corporeal form") took it upon herself to start ripping into the presents. She opened two of Tanner's and one of her own.
Now, every parent knows that there's an absolutely stupid question to ask a four-year-old, but we all ask it anyway: "Why did you do that?!??!?" We all hope against hope for a well-reasoned, carefully-constructed answer so that we can then point out the logical flaws in the four-year-old's thought process. Of course, what we all get instead boils down to something like, "Uhhh, ummmm, hmmmmm . . . I don't know."
So, the bottom line is that Tanner got to play with his toys early, Lindsey doesn't get to play with her toy early, we made Lindsey apologize to everyone in Switzerland for ruining Christmas, Lindsey didn't get to watch movies for two days, and our two-part Christmas has now become a three-part Christmas.
Four days until the trip . . . .
For us, Christmas was going to be split into two parts. Because we fly out on the morning of the 22nd, and because we obviously can't take everything with us to the States, we were going to have part of Christmas here on the 20th and then have the rest with our families in the States on Christmas day. Stace wrapped up a bunch of presents and put them under the tree. (Side note: Yes, it's the same fake tree we've had for about ten years with the pre-strung malfunctioning lights. We vowed to get rid of it after last Christmas, but then when this whole Switzerland thing popped up, we decided to bring it with us rather than finding a new tree over here. It will not be making the return journey to U.S. soil.)
Anyway, Lindsey and Tanner had been longingly eyeing the presents under the tree, but they had done a reasonably good job of exercising self-restraint and not discovering "accidental" rips in the wrapping paper and other such inexplicable phenomena that have occurred in our family in the past. On Tuesday, Stace left the kids alone for a little while so she could go run a couple of errands. (Don't worry; we don't leave them alone for the weekend or anything like that.) A while after Stace left, Tanner called her to report that something horrible had happend: Lindsey had opened three of the presents. That's right, our little angel (and by "angel," I mean "evil spirit in corporeal form") took it upon herself to start ripping into the presents. She opened two of Tanner's and one of her own.
Now, every parent knows that there's an absolutely stupid question to ask a four-year-old, but we all ask it anyway: "Why did you do that?!??!?" We all hope against hope for a well-reasoned, carefully-constructed answer so that we can then point out the logical flaws in the four-year-old's thought process. Of course, what we all get instead boils down to something like, "Uhhh, ummmm, hmmmmm . . . I don't know."
So, the bottom line is that Tanner got to play with his toys early, Lindsey doesn't get to play with her toy early, we made Lindsey apologize to everyone in Switzerland for ruining Christmas, Lindsey didn't get to watch movies for two days, and our two-part Christmas has now become a three-part Christmas.
Four days until the trip . . . .
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Not gloating, but . . . .
. . . . .
Current temperature in the Twin Cities: 11 degrees below zero
Current temperature in Zug: 34 degrees (above zero, that is)
. . . . .
Current temperature in the Twin Cities: 11 degrees below zero
Current temperature in Zug: 34 degrees (above zero, that is)
. . . . .
Friday, December 12, 2008
Pictures--finally!!
Faced with increasingly vociferous demands that I post pictures, I'll throw in a few. You have to realize that Stace and I are faced with some big obstacles when it comes to including pictures in our blog: 1) We hate taking pictures--we'd rather enjoy the moment rather than interfere with it by trying to take a picture of it; 2) we hate managing and keeping track of pictures; and 3) in the rare event that we do take pictures, we hardly ever go back and look at them.
Having said that, I'll try to toss in a couple of pictures right now. These include pictures of the view from our balcony and a couple of pictures of our family. The pictures of the kids are just shots of them goofing around while we were getting ready to do the picture for our magazine article. (As you can guess from the pictures, we do have some pretty spectacular sunsets around here. You can see Lake Zug and a couple of church steeples.)
Having said that, I'll try to toss in a couple of pictures right now. These include pictures of the view from our balcony and a couple of pictures of our family. The pictures of the kids are just shots of them goofing around while we were getting ready to do the picture for our magazine article. (As you can guess from the pictures, we do have some pretty spectacular sunsets around here. You can see Lake Zug and a couple of church steeples.)
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Triple-Kiss
Change of plans again. Rather than taking a long train ride yesterday, I took the kids to the Goldau Tielpark, which is a nearby animal park at which the people and the animals walk around together. The kids fed the birds, the ducks, the chickens, the deer, and other animals I couldn't identify. They had lots of fun. Lindsey loves animals. In the meantime, Stace spent lots of money in Germany. She also thinks she got another speeding ticket. I'll let you know in a couple of weeks.
But that's not what this post is about. No, it's about the one thing in Switzerland that causes me to live in constant fear, sometimes waking me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat: the possibility that I'll be in a situation where I'm expected to triple-kiss. What's the triple-kiss, you ask? It's a uniquely Swiss custom that I don't believe is practiced even in other parts of Europe. Upon greeting each other, the Swiss will often engage in the triple-kiss, a rather elaborate ceremony in which the two participants first kiss each other on the right cheeks, then on the left cheeks, and then again on the right cheeks. This is not some fakey-silently-kiss-the-air type of Hollywood kiss; this is a flat-out kiss on the cheek, complete with loud smooching noises. The whole thing takes about a second, but it seems like an eternity to both observers and participants.
It may surprise some of my faithful readers to learn that I'm not exactly the touchy-feely type. I don't usually even hug friends, let alone kiss them three times. The Swiss, like most Europeans, are generally more touchy than most Americans, and most Americans are generally more touchy than me, so you can imagine my distress with all of this publicly-displayed affection.
I haven't yet seen a triple-kiss between two men, but I've seen plenty between two women or between a man and a woman. I've only been involved in one, and I'm sure I messed it up royally. For one thing, I'm not sure what one is supposed to do with one's hands during the triple-kiss. Firm embrace of the shoulders? Grasp around the waist? Hands in pockets? I don't know. I just know that the world would be a much better place if we all settled for a nice handshake, or, better yet, a friendly wave. (So as not to spread germs.)
Postscript: Just now, as I was putting Stace to bed, I was complaining to her about all the hugging and kissing going on around here. She said that she's "embraced" the hugging. She then proceeded to laugh hysterically at her own joke and what she considers to be her immensely sophisticated sense of humor until she fell asleep.
Postpostscript: Tomorrow's high in the Twin Cities, 8 degrees. Tomorrow's high in Zug, 38 degrees. Amount of snow that fell today in the Twin Cities: about 6 inches, from what I hear. Amount of snow that fell today in Zug: zero. Varieties of cheese available in the Twin Cities: about 6. Varieties of cheese available in Zug: about 8,523,712. Not a bad decision, eh? Even with all of the moving violations.
But that's not what this post is about. No, it's about the one thing in Switzerland that causes me to live in constant fear, sometimes waking me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat: the possibility that I'll be in a situation where I'm expected to triple-kiss. What's the triple-kiss, you ask? It's a uniquely Swiss custom that I don't believe is practiced even in other parts of Europe. Upon greeting each other, the Swiss will often engage in the triple-kiss, a rather elaborate ceremony in which the two participants first kiss each other on the right cheeks, then on the left cheeks, and then again on the right cheeks. This is not some fakey-silently-kiss-the-air type of Hollywood kiss; this is a flat-out kiss on the cheek, complete with loud smooching noises. The whole thing takes about a second, but it seems like an eternity to both observers and participants.
It may surprise some of my faithful readers to learn that I'm not exactly the touchy-feely type. I don't usually even hug friends, let alone kiss them three times. The Swiss, like most Europeans, are generally more touchy than most Americans, and most Americans are generally more touchy than me, so you can imagine my distress with all of this publicly-displayed affection.
I haven't yet seen a triple-kiss between two men, but I've seen plenty between two women or between a man and a woman. I've only been involved in one, and I'm sure I messed it up royally. For one thing, I'm not sure what one is supposed to do with one's hands during the triple-kiss. Firm embrace of the shoulders? Grasp around the waist? Hands in pockets? I don't know. I just know that the world would be a much better place if we all settled for a nice handshake, or, better yet, a friendly wave. (So as not to spread germs.)
Postscript: Just now, as I was putting Stace to bed, I was complaining to her about all the hugging and kissing going on around here. She said that she's "embraced" the hugging. She then proceeded to laugh hysterically at her own joke and what she considers to be her immensely sophisticated sense of humor until she fell asleep.
Postpostscript: Tomorrow's high in the Twin Cities, 8 degrees. Tomorrow's high in Zug, 38 degrees. Amount of snow that fell today in the Twin Cities: about 6 inches, from what I hear. Amount of snow that fell today in Zug: zero. Varieties of cheese available in the Twin Cities: about 6. Varieties of cheese available in Zug: about 8,523,712. Not a bad decision, eh? Even with all of the moving violations.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Odds and ends
There are many different things rattling around in my brain without a particular unifying theme, so I'll just tackle them one by one. It was a busy week.
1. Sure enough, I got zapped for running a red. I missed it by six tenths of a second. The cost was indeed 250 francs. To add insult to injury, Stace got tagged for speeding the day before that. Total pain: 370 Swiss francs, about $310. Keep those pledges coming!!
2. Here were some of my evenings last week: Monday, Stace and I rode a train to the top of a mountain outside Zurich to eat fondue. Wednesday, I had a work-related dinner at the home of a coworker. Thursday, I rode a train to the top of a mountain outside Zug to eat fondue. It was a rough week.
3. As I mentioned earlier, Stace is driving to Germany tomorrow to do some shopping. I decided to take the kids to northeastern Switzerland rather than to the Italian part. We're going to take a train through the mountains, visit a monastery that's been around for a few hundred years, and see a few lakes.
4. Santa Claus is a little different in Switzerland. On Friday night, the kids left their shoes outside, and when they woke up on Saturday morning, their shoes were filled with candy. That's a Swiss thing. In another Swiss thing, on Saturday night, the kids took a walk through the woods to visit "Sammi Claus," whose job it was to praise the kids for things they had done well and to give them advice for the future. Through some myesterious means, Sammi Claus knew that one thing for Lindsey to work on was listening to her parents.
5. Monday is a Swiss holiday. Most of the Swiss holidays have something or other to do with Mary, at least in the Catholic cantons, of which Canton Zug is one. Tomorrow's holiday is to celebrate the immaculate conception. This partly makes up for the fact that I had to work on Thanksgiving.
6. Much to my annoyance, Stace has started checking in on this blog from time to time. That means we all need to be careful in what we say, because there's a slight chance that she'll figure out things that we don't want her to know about. Just keep that in mind when you leave your comments. I think I lulled her into complacency by not posting anything for a few days, so she probably won't check in for a while, but the risk does exist.
1. Sure enough, I got zapped for running a red. I missed it by six tenths of a second. The cost was indeed 250 francs. To add insult to injury, Stace got tagged for speeding the day before that. Total pain: 370 Swiss francs, about $310. Keep those pledges coming!!
2. Here were some of my evenings last week: Monday, Stace and I rode a train to the top of a mountain outside Zurich to eat fondue. Wednesday, I had a work-related dinner at the home of a coworker. Thursday, I rode a train to the top of a mountain outside Zug to eat fondue. It was a rough week.
3. As I mentioned earlier, Stace is driving to Germany tomorrow to do some shopping. I decided to take the kids to northeastern Switzerland rather than to the Italian part. We're going to take a train through the mountains, visit a monastery that's been around for a few hundred years, and see a few lakes.
4. Santa Claus is a little different in Switzerland. On Friday night, the kids left their shoes outside, and when they woke up on Saturday morning, their shoes were filled with candy. That's a Swiss thing. In another Swiss thing, on Saturday night, the kids took a walk through the woods to visit "Sammi Claus," whose job it was to praise the kids for things they had done well and to give them advice for the future. Through some myesterious means, Sammi Claus knew that one thing for Lindsey to work on was listening to her parents.
5. Monday is a Swiss holiday. Most of the Swiss holidays have something or other to do with Mary, at least in the Catholic cantons, of which Canton Zug is one. Tomorrow's holiday is to celebrate the immaculate conception. This partly makes up for the fact that I had to work on Thanksgiving.
6. Much to my annoyance, Stace has started checking in on this blog from time to time. That means we all need to be careful in what we say, because there's a slight chance that she'll figure out things that we don't want her to know about. Just keep that in mind when you leave your comments. I think I lulled her into complacency by not posting anything for a few days, so she probably won't check in for a while, but the risk does exist.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Out and about
We're seeing our fair share of Switzerland these days. Yesterday, we drove to a town near Zurich to have dinner with an American family who's also here working for Thomson. This morning, we went to Lucerne for church. This afternoon, we drove to another town to have dinner with our friends from Germany. Each of those drives is about an hour round-trip, so it's a good thing that gas is cheap here. (I'm kidding. It's not. It hurts.) And, of course, most of this driving doesn't take place on nice four-lane freeways. Nope. It's on narrow two-lane roads. The Swiss don't really seem to have the concept of a "shoulder." So you drive on these narrow roads until you come to a village, you pass through the obligatory one or two traffic circles in the village, and then you speed up again for a couple of miles until you come to the next village. (All of this happens, of course, against a backdrop of spectacular mountains and forests.)
Tomorrow night, Stace and I will ride a train to the top of one of the mountains overlooking Zurich for my company's holiday celebration. That should be fun. And next Monday, which is a Swiss holiday, Stace is going to go with some friends to Germany to do some shopping. It's also a school holiday, so I might take a day-trip with the kids to Italy or at least to the Italian part of Switzerland. Our trip to the French part over the summer was interesting. So, we're getting a good look at what there is to see here.
I still haven't written that post about all of the rules around here, but I think I got busted by one of them last week. I think they nailed me for running a red light. The light was yellow, and I still maintain that I had plenty of time, but I saw the dreaded flash of light as I went through the intersection. When you see that flash, you can expect to receive a ticket in the mail about two weeks later. Speeding tickets and other moving violations are all done by photo-cop; there's no sweet-talking the digital camera into giving you just a warning "this time." According to another Thomson family who got a ticket a couple of weeks ago for running a red light by eight tenths of a second, I can expect to pay about 250 Swiss francs ($200) for this one. I'm starting a collection, so feel free to pitch in. Our mailing address is:
PO Box 64523
St. Paul, MN 55164-0523
(I'm kidding about the collection but not about the mailing address. You can mail cards and letters to that address and they'll be forwarded to us. You can't send packages that way, just mail. And be sure you address it to one of us by first name, not just to "Wood," because my company uses that mailing address for many, many Thomson families all over the world. But remember that we're seven hours ahead of Minnesota and eight hours ahead of Utah, so you need to drop your letters in the mail several hours earlier than you normally would.)
And, finally, Stace did that which I had long dreaded: she sat down to read this blog. She says that the India deal is off and that Switzerland is enough adventure for her right now. What she doesn't realize is that they speak English in India, so the language thing would be easier there than it is here. All of you faithful readers out there (yes, I mean both of you) have a couple of years to soften her up and convince her that India should be our next move. Come on--you're all eager to visit India, and if we live there, you've got the perfect excuse, right? (For those of you who have been watching the news lately, no, the office is not in Mumbai.)
Tomorrow night, Stace and I will ride a train to the top of one of the mountains overlooking Zurich for my company's holiday celebration. That should be fun. And next Monday, which is a Swiss holiday, Stace is going to go with some friends to Germany to do some shopping. It's also a school holiday, so I might take a day-trip with the kids to Italy or at least to the Italian part of Switzerland. Our trip to the French part over the summer was interesting. So, we're getting a good look at what there is to see here.
I still haven't written that post about all of the rules around here, but I think I got busted by one of them last week. I think they nailed me for running a red light. The light was yellow, and I still maintain that I had plenty of time, but I saw the dreaded flash of light as I went through the intersection. When you see that flash, you can expect to receive a ticket in the mail about two weeks later. Speeding tickets and other moving violations are all done by photo-cop; there's no sweet-talking the digital camera into giving you just a warning "this time." According to another Thomson family who got a ticket a couple of weeks ago for running a red light by eight tenths of a second, I can expect to pay about 250 Swiss francs ($200) for this one. I'm starting a collection, so feel free to pitch in. Our mailing address is:
PO Box 64523
St. Paul, MN 55164-0523
(I'm kidding about the collection but not about the mailing address. You can mail cards and letters to that address and they'll be forwarded to us. You can't send packages that way, just mail. And be sure you address it to one of us by first name, not just to "Wood," because my company uses that mailing address for many, many Thomson families all over the world. But remember that we're seven hours ahead of Minnesota and eight hours ahead of Utah, so you need to drop your letters in the mail several hours earlier than you normally would.)
And, finally, Stace did that which I had long dreaded: she sat down to read this blog. She says that the India deal is off and that Switzerland is enough adventure for her right now. What she doesn't realize is that they speak English in India, so the language thing would be easier there than it is here. All of you faithful readers out there (yes, I mean both of you) have a couple of years to soften her up and convince her that India should be our next move. Come on--you're all eager to visit India, and if we live there, you've got the perfect excuse, right? (For those of you who have been watching the news lately, no, the office is not in Mumbai.)
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A Stace story
My wonderful wife just called me from the grocery store because she needs me to meet her at the bus stop when she gets home. Why? Well, I'll tell you.
Stace rode the bus to the grocery store. While at the store, she forgot that she didn't have the car with her, so she bought a huge amount of groceries. It wasn't until she left the store that she realized that she didn't have a car. So now, I'm going to meet her at the bus stop to help her haul all of the groceries back to the house.
I thought that after the surgery earlier this year, Stace wouldn't feel so much pressure to live up to the stereotype that her former appearance could sometimes create. Turns out that on the inside, she's still the same old Stace that we all know and love. The surgery didn't change that. I could give you dozens of stories. I've suggested that from now on, when she goes to the grocery store, I'm going to hang a "car" or "no car" sign around her neck.
It's a good thing she never reads this blog.
Wait. She's home now, and she's looking in the direction of the computer screen. Uh-oh . . . .
Stace rode the bus to the grocery store. While at the store, she forgot that she didn't have the car with her, so she bought a huge amount of groceries. It wasn't until she left the store that she realized that she didn't have a car. So now, I'm going to meet her at the bus stop to help her haul all of the groceries back to the house.
I thought that after the surgery earlier this year, Stace wouldn't feel so much pressure to live up to the stereotype that her former appearance could sometimes create. Turns out that on the inside, she's still the same old Stace that we all know and love. The surgery didn't change that. I could give you dozens of stories. I've suggested that from now on, when she goes to the grocery store, I'm going to hang a "car" or "no car" sign around her neck.
It's a good thing she never reads this blog.
Wait. She's home now, and she's looking in the direction of the computer screen. Uh-oh . . . .
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
"You're the worst family!"
Those were Lindsey's words when I made her stay in bed tonight. I had to fake-cough to cover up my laughter, because to her, this is a very serious matter. (She also threatened to bite me. And she has this vicious scowl that makes my blood run cold, at least until I tickle her.)
Stace tends to be a softie with this kind of thing, but I'm getting her more in a combat mindset. She has to realize that in Lindsey, we face an enemy so cunning, so devious, and so amoral that she will resort to the most underhanded tactics, including emotional blackmail. This is war. It's a war we're going to win (at least until Lindsey becomes a teenager, at which point we'll abandon all hope and immediately surrender without any expectation or hope of mercy).
Stace tends to be a softie with this kind of thing, but I'm getting her more in a combat mindset. She has to realize that in Lindsey, we face an enemy so cunning, so devious, and so amoral that she will resort to the most underhanded tactics, including emotional blackmail. This is war. It's a war we're going to win (at least until Lindsey becomes a teenager, at which point we'll abandon all hope and immediately surrender without any expectation or hope of mercy).
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Stace is aging
Stace turned almost-40 yesterday. We were going to take the train to Lucerne to walk around and get lunch, but the weather wasn't very nice, so we postponed that. We settled for buying some outrageously expensive truffles at the Bahnhof here in Zug. (But dang, they were good.)
Elderly Swiss women continue to express their concern that I'm not dressing warmly enough when I go out to climb our local staircase for exercise. One woman stopped me yesterday and kindly berated me with an unintelligible string of words that ended with the word kalt, which is "cold" in German. I tried to convince her that I was heiss, which is "hot." From the dubious look on her face, I could tell that she either didn't believe me or didn't understand me, probably the latter.
Elderly Swiss women continue to express their concern that I'm not dressing warmly enough when I go out to climb our local staircase for exercise. One woman stopped me yesterday and kindly berated me with an unintelligible string of words that ended with the word kalt, which is "cold" in German. I tried to convince her that I was heiss, which is "hot." From the dubious look on her face, I could tell that she either didn't believe me or didn't understand me, probably the latter.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
German words
Today, we got a letter from the Canton of Zug (a canton is the Swiss version of a state, I suppose). The letter contains the following word: "Krankenversicherungspflicht." I kid you not. That's a real German word. I believe it means something like "proof of insurance." German loves nothing more than a nice, juicy compound word. I'll bet you can't think of a lot of words in English words that are 27 letters that you could casually roll off of your tongue at your next party.
More differences between Switzerland and Minnesota
Pickles taste different. And toilets flush differently.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Lindsey Wood, Sufferer of Injustice
Nothing to do with Switzerland this time, just Lindsey. This is just an example of the stuff that makes us crack up. This happened while I was in Minnesota, so I wasn't around to actually witness this, but here's what I'm told happened.
Stace wouldn't let Lindsey have more dessert one evening, which has been one of the great sources of parent/child conflict throughout recorded history. Lindsey worked herself up into a crying fit. Stace tried to sympathize but finally told Lindsey that she needed either to stop crying or to go to her room. Lindsey chose to endure her torment alone in her room. After a few minutes, without comment, Lindsey's bedroom door opened, and a small hand taped a picture to the outside of her door. You can see the picture at the bottom of this posting. (This is scanned as a pdf and then copied as a screen shot from my computer, and I'm too lazy to do further cleanup.)
If you look closely, you'll see that each eye has its own tear. Imagine the suffering and the anguish of our poor daughter. Lindsey's parents had no idea that they had mistreated her so. Upon seeing this picture and its eloquent depiction of the injustice that had been visited upon Lindsey, her parents felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and vowed never again to deny their daughter the extra dessert she so desperately needed---
Oh, hang on a sec. We interrupt Lindsey's fantasy with a dose of reality. What actually happened was that Lindsey didn't get any additional dessert, but her parents did get a kick out of her silent protest and her subsequent admonition that we must never again make her "cwy."
She's a kick. We've allowed her to have various art supplies in her room, although we do run the risk of her gluing a window shut or something like that. Last night, she strung several strands of masking tape between her walls and door and hung various works of art from the tape. This was her attempt to get an early start on her Christmas decorations. Lately, rather than sleeping with one of her dolls, she's started sleeping with a pair of scissors so she can dream of what to create when she wakes up in the morning. (Don't worry--they're dulled kid scissors. She can't hurt herself by rolling over on them.)
Stace wouldn't let Lindsey have more dessert one evening, which has been one of the great sources of parent/child conflict throughout recorded history. Lindsey worked herself up into a crying fit. Stace tried to sympathize but finally told Lindsey that she needed either to stop crying or to go to her room. Lindsey chose to endure her torment alone in her room. After a few minutes, without comment, Lindsey's bedroom door opened, and a small hand taped a picture to the outside of her door. You can see the picture at the bottom of this posting. (This is scanned as a pdf and then copied as a screen shot from my computer, and I'm too lazy to do further cleanup.)
If you look closely, you'll see that each eye has its own tear. Imagine the suffering and the anguish of our poor daughter. Lindsey's parents had no idea that they had mistreated her so. Upon seeing this picture and its eloquent depiction of the injustice that had been visited upon Lindsey, her parents felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and vowed never again to deny their daughter the extra dessert she so desperately needed---
Oh, hang on a sec. We interrupt Lindsey's fantasy with a dose of reality. What actually happened was that Lindsey didn't get any additional dessert, but her parents did get a kick out of her silent protest and her subsequent admonition that we must never again make her "cwy."
She's a kick. We've allowed her to have various art supplies in her room, although we do run the risk of her gluing a window shut or something like that. Last night, she strung several strands of masking tape between her walls and door and hung various works of art from the tape. This was her attempt to get an early start on her Christmas decorations. Lately, rather than sleeping with one of her dolls, she's started sleeping with a pair of scissors so she can dream of what to create when she wakes up in the morning. (Don't worry--they're dulled kid scissors. She can't hurt herself by rolling over on them.)
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Swiss currency
I've included a picture of what some bills look like in Switzerland. As I mentioned before, the currency is very colorful. Each demonination is a different size so that you can tell what you've got by touch. (There's a case working its way through U.S. courts right now that might result in the U.S. having to redesign its currency so that people with disabilities can tell the different demoniations apart. That would be interesting.)
Large denominations are much more common around here than in the U.S. When's the last time you paid for something in the U.S. with a hundred-dollar bill? Here, though, we toss around one- and two-hundred franc bills without thinking about it. I'd be a little embarrassed in the U.S. to make a small purchase with a large bill, but around here, no one cares.
They've done a cool thing in Switzerland that we should do in the U.S. (but we won't): get rid of the penny. Everything you buy here ends in a 0 or a 5. The smallest coin we use around here is the Swiss version of a nickel. Another nice thing is that tax is already figured into the posted price of goods, so if you see something on the shelf that costs 2.05, it really costs 2.05--no more tax is added in.
For those of you who are really curious, here are the coins (bear in mind that "rappen" are the Swiss equivalents of cents): 5 rappen, 10 rappen, 20 rappen, 50 rappen, one franc, two francs, and five francs. Here are the bills: 10 francs, 20 francs, 50 francs, 100 francs, 200 francs, and 1000 francs. (No, I haven't tossed around a thousand-franc bill yet.) I'm not fast enough yet to be able to tell the differences between the coins based on size, so I just have to hope that the cashier is being honest in giving me the right amount of change. In Switzerland, that's a pretty safe bet.
Given the fact that you get coins for everything up to five francs, you can guess that the abundance of coins can result in an unmanageable amount of change kicking around in one's pocket. Stace, for some unknown reason, embraces the coin lifestyle. She likes to accumulate them. I try to spend them as soon as I get them. Once in a while, I help her out by taking all of the 10- and 20-rappen coins out of her purse, going to a bus ticket machine, and dropping in 25 or 30 coins to get a bus ticket. She'll be overwhelmed with gratitude at some point when she realizes how much good I'm doing for her.
Large denominations are much more common around here than in the U.S. When's the last time you paid for something in the U.S. with a hundred-dollar bill? Here, though, we toss around one- and two-hundred franc bills without thinking about it. I'd be a little embarrassed in the U.S. to make a small purchase with a large bill, but around here, no one cares.
They've done a cool thing in Switzerland that we should do in the U.S. (but we won't): get rid of the penny. Everything you buy here ends in a 0 or a 5. The smallest coin we use around here is the Swiss version of a nickel. Another nice thing is that tax is already figured into the posted price of goods, so if you see something on the shelf that costs 2.05, it really costs 2.05--no more tax is added in.
For those of you who are really curious, here are the coins (bear in mind that "rappen" are the Swiss equivalents of cents): 5 rappen, 10 rappen, 20 rappen, 50 rappen, one franc, two francs, and five francs. Here are the bills: 10 francs, 20 francs, 50 francs, 100 francs, 200 francs, and 1000 francs. (No, I haven't tossed around a thousand-franc bill yet.) I'm not fast enough yet to be able to tell the differences between the coins based on size, so I just have to hope that the cashier is being honest in giving me the right amount of change. In Switzerland, that's a pretty safe bet.
Given the fact that you get coins for everything up to five francs, you can guess that the abundance of coins can result in an unmanageable amount of change kicking around in one's pocket. Stace, for some unknown reason, embraces the coin lifestyle. She likes to accumulate them. I try to spend them as soon as I get them. Once in a while, I help her out by taking all of the 10- and 20-rappen coins out of her purse, going to a bus ticket machine, and dropping in 25 or 30 coins to get a bus ticket. She'll be overwhelmed with gratitude at some point when she realizes how much good I'm doing for her.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
The King's English, roasted chestnuts, and jet lag
First: Lindsey continues to become more British. Recent phrases we've heard from her include "let's give it a go," "become ill," and "you're making me cross." On the other hand, she did proclaim that she was "desausted" after we'd climbed the hill and the steps leading to our apartment, so she's still got a way to go.
Second: Roasted chestnuts actually exist. I always thought they were just a made-up part of the Christmas song. (You know, the one about kids spying to see if reindeer can really fly.) Since the weather turned colder a couple of weeks ago, street vendors have appeared near the Bahnhof (train station) and the stores. They sell roasted chestnuts. I was walking around with Lindsey today, and we decided to be real Europeans and buy some roasted chestnuts. Problem is, I didn't actually know how to eat a roasted chestnut. Do you need a nutcracker? Do you break them open with your teeth? Can you just eat them straight? I didn't want to look any dumber than I already do as a non-German speaker. So, we sat near one of the vendors in the Bahnhof for a while and watched people who bought the chestnuts. It looked like they just pulled them out of the bag, peeled them, and ate them. We mustered up our courage and bought a bag. Sure enough, the shells fall off very easily, and then you eat the chestnut inside. They were good. Lindsey didn't like them so much, but I've decided that when you're wandering around on a cold day, eating some warm, roasted chestnuts isn't a bad way to go.
Third: I've decided that overcoming jet lag is essentially an act of self-deception. You have to convince your body that it's wrong about what time it thinks it is.
I left Minneapolis at 12:15 p.m. on Wednesday. After flying through Atlanta, I landed in Zurich at 8:00 a.m. on Thursday, which was 1:00 a.m. in Minneapolis. I dozed for a bit on the plane but didn't really sleep. Even though my body thought it was one in the morning, it was breakfast time in Switzerland, and who wants to go to sleep then? So I just pushed through the day. I finally went to bed around 11:30 Swiss time Thursday night, which was 4:30 p.m. Minneapolis time, which means that I went 34 hours without sleep. Needless to say, I slept pretty well that night. All of this transatlantic hopping around plays interesting games with a person.
The really fun challenge will be taking the kids home for Christmas. We leave Zurich at about 12:15 in the afternoon. Three flights later, we'll land in Salt Lake City at about 11:30 that same night, which will actually be 7:30 the next morning in Swiss time. The kids will be completely wiped out. Hopefully, they will have recovered by Christmas Day. Then we'll turn it all around and go back the other direction two and a half weeks later.
When I'm dictator of the world, I'm going to do five things, in this order: 1) put everyone on 110 V electricity; 2) have everyone use the same currency; 3) put everyone in the same time zone; 4) have everyone speak the same language; and 5) create world peace.
Fourth: (Yes, this is a bonus item. I don't want Stace to see this one. She's not very good at keeping up on my blog, and even if she reads this entry, I'm counting on the fact that her attention will have wandered by the time she's read this much, so she won't ever see what I'm about to say.)
My company announced that it's going to be hiring people in India and the Philippines to do some of our content work. Obviously, they'll need people familiar with our content work to be stationed over there to keep an eye on things. Since I've spent most of my career at West in content, I might be well-suited for something like that. Once we get this two- to five-year Switzerland gig out of our systems, maybe we'll be off to another overseas adventure . . . .
Second: Roasted chestnuts actually exist. I always thought they were just a made-up part of the Christmas song. (You know, the one about kids spying to see if reindeer can really fly.) Since the weather turned colder a couple of weeks ago, street vendors have appeared near the Bahnhof (train station) and the stores. They sell roasted chestnuts. I was walking around with Lindsey today, and we decided to be real Europeans and buy some roasted chestnuts. Problem is, I didn't actually know how to eat a roasted chestnut. Do you need a nutcracker? Do you break them open with your teeth? Can you just eat them straight? I didn't want to look any dumber than I already do as a non-German speaker. So, we sat near one of the vendors in the Bahnhof for a while and watched people who bought the chestnuts. It looked like they just pulled them out of the bag, peeled them, and ate them. We mustered up our courage and bought a bag. Sure enough, the shells fall off very easily, and then you eat the chestnut inside. They were good. Lindsey didn't like them so much, but I've decided that when you're wandering around on a cold day, eating some warm, roasted chestnuts isn't a bad way to go.
Third: I've decided that overcoming jet lag is essentially an act of self-deception. You have to convince your body that it's wrong about what time it thinks it is.
I left Minneapolis at 12:15 p.m. on Wednesday. After flying through Atlanta, I landed in Zurich at 8:00 a.m. on Thursday, which was 1:00 a.m. in Minneapolis. I dozed for a bit on the plane but didn't really sleep. Even though my body thought it was one in the morning, it was breakfast time in Switzerland, and who wants to go to sleep then? So I just pushed through the day. I finally went to bed around 11:30 Swiss time Thursday night, which was 4:30 p.m. Minneapolis time, which means that I went 34 hours without sleep. Needless to say, I slept pretty well that night. All of this transatlantic hopping around plays interesting games with a person.
The really fun challenge will be taking the kids home for Christmas. We leave Zurich at about 12:15 in the afternoon. Three flights later, we'll land in Salt Lake City at about 11:30 that same night, which will actually be 7:30 the next morning in Swiss time. The kids will be completely wiped out. Hopefully, they will have recovered by Christmas Day. Then we'll turn it all around and go back the other direction two and a half weeks later.
When I'm dictator of the world, I'm going to do five things, in this order: 1) put everyone on 110 V electricity; 2) have everyone use the same currency; 3) put everyone in the same time zone; 4) have everyone speak the same language; and 5) create world peace.
Fourth: (Yes, this is a bonus item. I don't want Stace to see this one. She's not very good at keeping up on my blog, and even if she reads this entry, I'm counting on the fact that her attention will have wandered by the time she's read this much, so she won't ever see what I'm about to say.)
My company announced that it's going to be hiring people in India and the Philippines to do some of our content work. Obviously, they'll need people familiar with our content work to be stationed over there to keep an eye on things. Since I've spent most of my career at West in content, I might be well-suited for something like that. Once we get this two- to five-year Switzerland gig out of our systems, maybe we'll be off to another overseas adventure . . . .
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Interview with the Woods
Wow! I just noticed that our little blog now has a follower. I've never had a follower before. Welcome, Gretchen!
Anyway, I've abandoned the family to spend a few days in Minnesota. Coming to Minnesota this week has reminded me of one of the benefits of not being in Minnesota. As I looked at the weather forecast so I'd know what to pack, I saw that temperatures this week will vary between the 70s and the 20s. Now there's a wardrobe challenge. So I packed a little bit of everything: short sleeves, long sleeves, light jacket, heavy jacket, beachwear, skis, and so forth.
It also reminded me of how boring United States currency now looks compared to Swiss currency. It's all the same size and it's all the same drab green color. (And it's worth about 30% less than it was a month ago.)
But this isn't the promised post about Swiss currency, which I'll get to eventually. Instead, I'm just going to give you a link to an article featuring an interview with our lovely little family. It's at http://www.4family.ch/de/myfamily/interview-des-monats/november-2008. It's all in German, but here's an approximate translation:
"These parents have it so totally together and are doing an amazing job of raising their children." (It takes longer to say things in German than in English.)
Actually, Lindsey is already picking up some German. Stace had another headache and had to miss church on Sunday. One of Lindsey's teachers at church said, "Stacie ist krank." Lindsey said, "No, she's not sick; she just has a headache."
(Contrary to what you might guess, that sentence does not translate to "Stacie is cranky," which could never, ever be the case. I can't think of a situation in which one would ever use the words "Stacie" and "cranky" in the same sentence, unless one were saying something like, "Stacie is most definitely not cranky and has never been cranky, and it's inconceivable that she would ever be cranky, and, in fact, the words 'Stacie' and 'cranky' don't even belong in the same sentence.")
Anyway, I've abandoned the family to spend a few days in Minnesota. Coming to Minnesota this week has reminded me of one of the benefits of not being in Minnesota. As I looked at the weather forecast so I'd know what to pack, I saw that temperatures this week will vary between the 70s and the 20s. Now there's a wardrobe challenge. So I packed a little bit of everything: short sleeves, long sleeves, light jacket, heavy jacket, beachwear, skis, and so forth.
It also reminded me of how boring United States currency now looks compared to Swiss currency. It's all the same size and it's all the same drab green color. (And it's worth about 30% less than it was a month ago.)
But this isn't the promised post about Swiss currency, which I'll get to eventually. Instead, I'm just going to give you a link to an article featuring an interview with our lovely little family. It's at http://www.4family.ch/de/myfamily/interview-des-monats/november-2008. It's all in German, but here's an approximate translation:
"These parents have it so totally together and are doing an amazing job of raising their children." (It takes longer to say things in German than in English.)
Actually, Lindsey is already picking up some German. Stace had another headache and had to miss church on Sunday. One of Lindsey's teachers at church said, "Stacie ist krank." Lindsey said, "No, she's not sick; she just has a headache."
(Contrary to what you might guess, that sentence does not translate to "Stacie is cranky," which could never, ever be the case. I can't think of a situation in which one would ever use the words "Stacie" and "cranky" in the same sentence, unless one were saying something like, "Stacie is most definitely not cranky and has never been cranky, and it's inconceivable that she would ever be cranky, and, in fact, the words 'Stacie' and 'cranky' don't even belong in the same sentence.")
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Parental irrelevance
Something has gradually dawned on me over the past couple of days: Lindsey doesn't need parents. Seriously. I realized that we don't really exist in her world except maybe for an annoying buzzing sound in the back of her head that she's learned to ignore.
When Lindsey wants to go outside to play, she goes outside to play. She doesn't worry that she's alone or that she can't get back into the building. (This is much safer in Switzerland than it would be in the U.S.) When Lindsey wants something to eat, she climbs up to the counter and gets it out of the cupboard. If we've put Lindsey to bed for the night and she doesn't want to go to bed, she stays up for an hour or more in her bedroom drawing pictures and writing notes to her friends. (The notes consist mostly of wavy lines across a page with a random letter thrown in now and then, which she considers to be writing.) If Lindsey wants to jump off of the balcony, she rigs up a contraption that will allow her to fly.
If we're in the store and Lindsey wants to go play on the escalator, she goes and plays on the escalator. Doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing at the time. She's not malevolent, just curious and independent, an interesting combination in a four-year-old. If Lindsey is going somewhere and I tell her not to go there, it makes no difference in her world. It's as if I hadn't spoken. Oh, sure, I can physically restrain her from going at the moment, but she will inevitably figure out a way to go. In short, Lindsey is a four-year-old adult.
She went outside to play the other day, and our plan was to send Tanner down after her. Tanner was delayed a little longer than we'd planned. A few minutes later, Lindsey reappeared at our door. We were a bit surprised since the outside door to the building is always locked. It turned out that on her way out, Lindsey had grabbed the key to the building. When she decided to come back in, she put the key in the lock and, in her words, "just twisted and twisted until it opened."
The funny thing is that she has an adult vocabulary but a four-year-old's pronunciation. Yesterday, she and Tanner were sitting on the floor playing with Legos. I heard her say, "You'll have to excuse me, please, Tanner. I have to go to da bafwoom." She doesn't climb "trees"; she climbs "twees."
It's going to be an interesting twenty years.
When Lindsey wants to go outside to play, she goes outside to play. She doesn't worry that she's alone or that she can't get back into the building. (This is much safer in Switzerland than it would be in the U.S.) When Lindsey wants something to eat, she climbs up to the counter and gets it out of the cupboard. If we've put Lindsey to bed for the night and she doesn't want to go to bed, she stays up for an hour or more in her bedroom drawing pictures and writing notes to her friends. (The notes consist mostly of wavy lines across a page with a random letter thrown in now and then, which she considers to be writing.) If Lindsey wants to jump off of the balcony, she rigs up a contraption that will allow her to fly.
If we're in the store and Lindsey wants to go play on the escalator, she goes and plays on the escalator. Doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing at the time. She's not malevolent, just curious and independent, an interesting combination in a four-year-old. If Lindsey is going somewhere and I tell her not to go there, it makes no difference in her world. It's as if I hadn't spoken. Oh, sure, I can physically restrain her from going at the moment, but she will inevitably figure out a way to go. In short, Lindsey is a four-year-old adult.
She went outside to play the other day, and our plan was to send Tanner down after her. Tanner was delayed a little longer than we'd planned. A few minutes later, Lindsey reappeared at our door. We were a bit surprised since the outside door to the building is always locked. It turned out that on her way out, Lindsey had grabbed the key to the building. When she decided to come back in, she put the key in the lock and, in her words, "just twisted and twisted until it opened."
The funny thing is that she has an adult vocabulary but a four-year-old's pronunciation. Yesterday, she and Tanner were sitting on the floor playing with Legos. I heard her say, "You'll have to excuse me, please, Tanner. I have to go to da bafwoom." She doesn't climb "trees"; she climbs "twees."
It's going to be an interesting twenty years.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
German
Okay, here's the promised post on the German language. (But first, I have to tell you that Lindsey started talking about a "tomahto" yesterday rather than a "tomayto." Those European types at the international school are really starting to get to her. Sheesh. Next thing you know, she'll start thinking that it would be a good thing for people to have health coverage.)
Now, before you start thinking that German doesn't make sense compared to English, take a second and explain to me why "tough," "though," and "through" don't rhyme.
On with the show. German has some interesting challenges. There are five different ways to say "the." There are four different ways to say "a" or "an." Which version you use depends on the noun that follows it and whether the noun is the subject, the direct object, or the indirect object. I rarely get them right when I'm speaking.
One of the other challenges with German is the word order. All but one of the verbs get shoved to the end. In English, I would say, "I can see Tanner." In German, that translates to, "Ich kann Tanner sehen." Translated word for word, that comes out to, "I can Tanner see."
Past tense also gets a little funky. They don't say, "I drove to Steinhausen." They say "I am to Steinhausen driven," or "Ich bin nach Steinhausen gefahren." They say, "I have bread eaten," or "Ich habe Brot gegessen," rather than "I ate bread." (They capitalize all nouns.) This is all just fine in the classroom, but when you try to have a conversation with someone, it's hard to get it all right on the fly. You just have to practice, which is not easy when I work in an English-speaking office and live with an English-speaking family. I do just fine in stores as long as the cashier sticks to the dialogue that's running in my head, but when they go off script, like asking me if I'd like a piece of twine strung through the handle of the bag so that I can carry it more easily (which happened yesterday), I have to retreat and go to my most-used German line, "Ummmmmmm, sprechen Sie Englisch?"
Pronunciation is also tricky. German doesn't have a "th" sound, so they can't pronounce "Ethan." It comes out as "aytan." "Wood" comes out as "voot." (In German, the letter "w" is pronoucned like our letter "v," and the letter "v" is pronounced like our letter "f." A "VW" is a "fow vay.")
And then, finally, there's the fact that in Switzerland, they speak a very different version of German. I can follow a good chunk of a conversation in high German, but I'm almost totally lost in Swiss German. They tend to drop the endings of a lot of words and lose a lot of the consonants. The German word for "no," which is "nein," becomes "nei" in Swiss German.
Now, before you start thinking that German doesn't make sense compared to English, take a second and explain to me why "tough," "though," and "through" don't rhyme.
On with the show. German has some interesting challenges. There are five different ways to say "the." There are four different ways to say "a" or "an." Which version you use depends on the noun that follows it and whether the noun is the subject, the direct object, or the indirect object. I rarely get them right when I'm speaking.
One of the other challenges with German is the word order. All but one of the verbs get shoved to the end. In English, I would say, "I can see Tanner." In German, that translates to, "Ich kann Tanner sehen." Translated word for word, that comes out to, "I can Tanner see."
Past tense also gets a little funky. They don't say, "I drove to Steinhausen." They say "I am to Steinhausen driven," or "Ich bin nach Steinhausen gefahren." They say, "I have bread eaten," or "Ich habe Brot gegessen," rather than "I ate bread." (They capitalize all nouns.) This is all just fine in the classroom, but when you try to have a conversation with someone, it's hard to get it all right on the fly. You just have to practice, which is not easy when I work in an English-speaking office and live with an English-speaking family. I do just fine in stores as long as the cashier sticks to the dialogue that's running in my head, but when they go off script, like asking me if I'd like a piece of twine strung through the handle of the bag so that I can carry it more easily (which happened yesterday), I have to retreat and go to my most-used German line, "Ummmmmmm, sprechen Sie Englisch?"
Pronunciation is also tricky. German doesn't have a "th" sound, so they can't pronounce "Ethan." It comes out as "aytan." "Wood" comes out as "voot." (In German, the letter "w" is pronoucned like our letter "v," and the letter "v" is pronounced like our letter "f." A "VW" is a "fow vay.")
And then, finally, there's the fact that in Switzerland, they speak a very different version of German. I can follow a good chunk of a conversation in high German, but I'm almost totally lost in Swiss German. They tend to drop the endings of a lot of words and lose a lot of the consonants. The German word for "no," which is "nein," becomes "nei" in Swiss German.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Snow day!!!????!!!
The international school has closed today due to snow. I thought we left all this behind us! I think the Swiss schools are open; it's just the international school that shut down. I attribute this to three things: 1) some students travel very long distances to get to the school every day, whereas the Swiss go to local schools; 2) the international school is off the beaten path, so clearing roads is probably tricky; and 3) the Europeans who run the school haven't ever seen what a real winter is like.
So, the kids have an unplanned holiday today. They're having a blast playing out on the terrace right now. If we can ever find the cable that connects our camera to our computer, I'll post a picture.
So, the kids have an unplanned holiday today. They're having a blast playing out on the terrace right now. If we can ever find the cable that connects our camera to our computer, I'll post a picture.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Zeeeeeeeeeeeeee
The international school is already converting Lindsey. When I was putting her to bed tonight, she sang the alphabet for me. She ended it with "w, x, y and zed."
It's snowing here a lot right now. The good thing about being here rather than in Minnesota is that we won't be staring at this same snow in late February. The snow actually melts here between rounds.
It's snowing here a lot right now. The good thing about being here rather than in Minnesota is that we won't be staring at this same snow in late February. The snow actually melts here between rounds.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Twenty-nine and counting
Nothing profound here. I'll just share with you a somewhat surprising fact that just occurred to me. It turns out that I've been on 29 separate flights so far this year (with more to come). So far, not one of them has been cancelled or delayed by more than a few minutes. What are the odds of that? What am I doing right?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Church in German
[Those of you who aren't Mormons can feel free to skip this post. It's full of Mormon insider references. If you find it overwhelming, just take a deep breath and remind yourselves that Sarah Palin beat out Mitt Romney for the VP spot on the Republican side. You'll feel better.]
[Well, maybe not. Anyway . . . .]
Today was the annual Primary program. In contrast to the Lakeville Ward, which has about a hundred kids in the Primary, the Lucerne Ward has about a dozen. The ward still went to a lot of work, though. They even dressed the kids, except for Tanner, as sheep, complete with sheep hats for the ears. Tanner had the distinction of being a shepherd. There was one point where the shepherd was looking for one of the lost sheep, so Tanner had to wander around the podium searching for the straggler.
I wish I could tell you exactly what the program was about, but of course, it was in German. They did have a banner above the podium saying "Ich bin ein Kind von Gott," which is a sufficiently simple phrase that I can translate it with my limited German ability. It means "I am a child of God." Other than that, I don't know what was going on. I'm sure it was all very meaningful, and it was definitely cute. Tanner and Lindsey did their best to sing along with words they didn't understand. I hope they'll be a little more Swiss by next year. Just by watching, we could tell that Lindsey had an easier time learning the words than Tanner, which illustrates the point that the best time to learn a foreign language is when you're really young.
Overall, church is an interesting experience. When we showed up on the scene during the summer, they continued to hold services in German rather than switching to English to accommodate the ignorant Americans. Imagine that. We do get some limited translation from one of the missionaries, but the headphones don't always work, and it's kind of clunky. I know enough German that I can sometimes follow along a little bit as long as they're speaking high German. If it's Swiss German, forget it. Luckily, they usually speak high German in church. I just go it alone during Sunday School and priesthood meeting.
I could say more about the distinction between Swiss German and high German, but this post is already getting a bit wordy, so I'll save that for another day.
[Well, maybe not. Anyway . . . .]
Today was the annual Primary program. In contrast to the Lakeville Ward, which has about a hundred kids in the Primary, the Lucerne Ward has about a dozen. The ward still went to a lot of work, though. They even dressed the kids, except for Tanner, as sheep, complete with sheep hats for the ears. Tanner had the distinction of being a shepherd. There was one point where the shepherd was looking for one of the lost sheep, so Tanner had to wander around the podium searching for the straggler.
I wish I could tell you exactly what the program was about, but of course, it was in German. They did have a banner above the podium saying "Ich bin ein Kind von Gott," which is a sufficiently simple phrase that I can translate it with my limited German ability. It means "I am a child of God." Other than that, I don't know what was going on. I'm sure it was all very meaningful, and it was definitely cute. Tanner and Lindsey did their best to sing along with words they didn't understand. I hope they'll be a little more Swiss by next year. Just by watching, we could tell that Lindsey had an easier time learning the words than Tanner, which illustrates the point that the best time to learn a foreign language is when you're really young.
Overall, church is an interesting experience. When we showed up on the scene during the summer, they continued to hold services in German rather than switching to English to accommodate the ignorant Americans. Imagine that. We do get some limited translation from one of the missionaries, but the headphones don't always work, and it's kind of clunky. I know enough German that I can sometimes follow along a little bit as long as they're speaking high German. If it's Swiss German, forget it. Luckily, they usually speak high German in church. I just go it alone during Sunday School and priesthood meeting.
I could say more about the distinction between Swiss German and high German, but this post is already getting a bit wordy, so I'll save that for another day.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Bankruptcy and cost of living
Well, we had to file for bankruptcy again for the second time this month. Why, you ask? Because we had to put gas in the car. As painful as gas prices have been in the United States over the past couple of years, that's nothing compared to gas prices in Europe. They're about double what they are in the States. Today, we paid 1.75 Swiss francs per liter, which turns out to be about $6.50 per gallon. They make it very convenient, though. When you get your receipt for the gas, they just automatically print out a bankruptcy petition that you can file right there at the gas station. Very handy.
Overall, the cost of living here is, in a word, outrageous. I routinely have heart failure when I go shopping. Gas is just the beginning. I went to buy contact solution after I'd been here for a couple of weeks. A bottle that would cost me about $6 in the States was the equivalent of about $25. Yikes! Stace's Minnesota driver's license is about to expire, so she needs a Swiss license. That would cost about $25 in Minnesota. It will cost us about $130 here. Fortunately, my company gives me a cost of living allowance. When they first told me how much it was, I started salivating, and I thought, "Really? You'll pay me that much extra? We're gonna be rich!" Wrong. The amount is fair, but we go through cash a lot fast here than we would in the States. The Swiss even charge extra for ketchup at McDonald's. (Yes, there's a McDonald's here. Of course, it's about twice as expensive as in the States.)
I'll talk more about Swiss money in a later post. The bills they use are kinda cool. Before I do that, though, I'll have to figure out how to post pictures with the blog so you can see what I'm talking about.
Overall, the cost of living here is, in a word, outrageous. I routinely have heart failure when I go shopping. Gas is just the beginning. I went to buy contact solution after I'd been here for a couple of weeks. A bottle that would cost me about $6 in the States was the equivalent of about $25. Yikes! Stace's Minnesota driver's license is about to expire, so she needs a Swiss license. That would cost about $25 in Minnesota. It will cost us about $130 here. Fortunately, my company gives me a cost of living allowance. When they first told me how much it was, I started salivating, and I thought, "Really? You'll pay me that much extra? We're gonna be rich!" Wrong. The amount is fair, but we go through cash a lot fast here than we would in the States. The Swiss even charge extra for ketchup at McDonald's. (Yes, there's a McDonald's here. Of course, it's about twice as expensive as in the States.)
I'll talk more about Swiss money in a later post. The bills they use are kinda cool. Before I do that, though, I'll have to figure out how to post pictures with the blog so you can see what I'm talking about.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Daylight Saving Time
We go off of Daylight Saving Time a week sooner than you folks in the States. We'll be moving our clocks back an hour on Saturday night. Too bad our kids don't realize they're supposed to sleep in for an extra hour. So, for those of you keeping track, we'll be six hours ahead of Minnesota and seven hours ahead of Utah during that week. Makes us seem all that much closer, right? You'll drop back the following weekend.
Here's a Lindsey story. A few weeks ago, I took the kids to see a castle on the French side of Switzerland. On the way back, a soldier from the Swiss army sat across the aisle from us. (You know, the folks with the famous knives.) Unfortunately for him, he spoke enough English for Lindsey to be able to strike up a conversation with him. She's never been shy.
At some point, she told him that our car is an Audi. Then her brain really started working. She lifted up her shirt to show the soldier her belly button and proclaimed to him that she has an "outie." (It helps if you read this section out loud.) She then went on to tell him that the rest of her family members all had "innies," pointing at Tanner and me individually. Like I said, at some point, I think the soldier started wishing that he didn't speak English.
By the way, I don't get French. A voice announced each stop that the train made while we were in the French part. I swear that each town in the French part of Switzerland is called "bleh."
Here's a Lindsey story. A few weeks ago, I took the kids to see a castle on the French side of Switzerland. On the way back, a soldier from the Swiss army sat across the aisle from us. (You know, the folks with the famous knives.) Unfortunately for him, he spoke enough English for Lindsey to be able to strike up a conversation with him. She's never been shy.
At some point, she told him that our car is an Audi. Then her brain really started working. She lifted up her shirt to show the soldier her belly button and proclaimed to him that she has an "outie." (It helps if you read this section out loud.) She then went on to tell him that the rest of her family members all had "innies," pointing at Tanner and me individually. Like I said, at some point, I think the soldier started wishing that he didn't speak English.
By the way, I don't get French. A voice announced each stop that the train made while we were in the French part. I swear that each town in the French part of Switzerland is called "bleh."
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Crime
It basically doesn't exist here in Switzerland. People leave bikes out in the open and they don't get stolen. Hotels don't have electronic keys that change with each new guest. Eight-year-old kids ride city buses by themselves. And get this: when a young child first starts school, the Swiss put a fluorescent vest on the child that announces to the world that this child is just starting out in school and may get lost. The idea is that adults can then help the child if he or she ends up going in the wrong direction. In the U.S., that vest would be equivalent to hanging a sign on the child saying, "I'm alone and vulnerable! Please kidnap me!" In Switzerland, though, everyone just pitches in to help.
Also, cars actually stop for pedestrians. It's kind of fun just to walk around and approach random crosswalks and watch the cars stop for you. In return, Swiss pedestrians don't generally jaywalk. If they're waiting to cross a street, and there aren't any cars coming through the intersection, they still stand there and wait for the light to change.
If there's a downside to all of this, it's that the Swiss have so many rules to govern this orderly society that it can feel a little oppressive sometimes. More on the rules later.
Also, cars actually stop for pedestrians. It's kind of fun just to walk around and approach random crosswalks and watch the cars stop for you. In return, Swiss pedestrians don't generally jaywalk. If they're waiting to cross a street, and there aren't any cars coming through the intersection, they still stand there and wait for the light to change.
If there's a downside to all of this, it's that the Swiss have so many rules to govern this orderly society that it can feel a little oppressive sometimes. More on the rules later.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Swiss speed limits
To illustrate how speed limits work here in Switzerland, I'll tell you the Parable of the Waiter.
You sit down for dinner at a restaurant that serves beef, chicken, and fish. You know you want the beef. After you've looked at the menu for a while, the server comes to take your order. You say, "I don't want the fish." The server walks away to convey your order to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, he returns with the exact beef dish you wanted.
That's how speed limits work here in Switzerland. You can be driving along and see a sign that says "60." (I'm talking kilometers here, not miles.) "Fine," you say to yourself. "I can drive 60." A half mile later, you come across another sign that has a "60" with a slash through it. That means that the speed limit is no longer 60 and that it has reverted to what it was before you entered the 60 zone. Heaven help you if you can't figure out what the speed limit was before it went to 60, but that's what you're supposed to do.
It's doubly important to know the speed limit because the Swiss have cameras posted everywhere to enforce the speed limit. We've already been zinged once, and people tell us that traffic tickets are just part of the cost of living here. You may or may not see a flash, but a couple of weeks later, you get a ticket in the mail. Bummer. I'll have more about the Swiss fondness for rules in general in another entry.
You sit down for dinner at a restaurant that serves beef, chicken, and fish. You know you want the beef. After you've looked at the menu for a while, the server comes to take your order. You say, "I don't want the fish." The server walks away to convey your order to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, he returns with the exact beef dish you wanted.
That's how speed limits work here in Switzerland. You can be driving along and see a sign that says "60." (I'm talking kilometers here, not miles.) "Fine," you say to yourself. "I can drive 60." A half mile later, you come across another sign that has a "60" with a slash through it. That means that the speed limit is no longer 60 and that it has reverted to what it was before you entered the 60 zone. Heaven help you if you can't figure out what the speed limit was before it went to 60, but that's what you're supposed to do.
It's doubly important to know the speed limit because the Swiss have cameras posted everywhere to enforce the speed limit. We've already been zinged once, and people tell us that traffic tickets are just part of the cost of living here. You may or may not see a flash, but a couple of weeks later, you get a ticket in the mail. Bummer. I'll have more about the Swiss fondness for rules in general in another entry.
The kids
Now that the introduction is out of the way, I should probably update everyone on the kids.
Tanner had his tenth birthday yesterday. We had a quiet celebration at the house, with just family and the Laws, another American couple living in Zug. Tanner got a couple of PlayStation games and other gifts. We also told him that we're going to take a family trip to Paris to go to Disneyland Paris and to see the sights. He's pretty excited. He's in fourth grade at an international school here in Zug, and he loves it. He recently spent a week tromping around Switzerland as part of Field Week, which is something they do at the school. He had a blast.
Lindsey is four. To let you know what it's like to raise Lindsey, I'll tell you that Stace recently had to convince her that it was not safe to jump off of the balcony even though Lindsey had carefully wrapped herself in a contraption consisting of yarn, string, and pipe cleaner. The balcony is four stories above the ground, but Lindsey was certain that her new invention would allow her to fly. We think we got her past the danger point. One never knows, though. Lindsey already considers herself to be an adult, and it's hard to convince an adult that she may not have everything figured out. The teenage years should be fun. Lindsey goes to pre-kindergarten every day at the same school as Tanner, so they're able to ride the bus together to and from school.
Both Lindsey and Tanner have friends from all over the world. Lindsey's best friend at school is from Australia, and Tanner's best friend is from England. It's quite a different experience from what they'd be having in the States.
Tanner had his tenth birthday yesterday. We had a quiet celebration at the house, with just family and the Laws, another American couple living in Zug. Tanner got a couple of PlayStation games and other gifts. We also told him that we're going to take a family trip to Paris to go to Disneyland Paris and to see the sights. He's pretty excited. He's in fourth grade at an international school here in Zug, and he loves it. He recently spent a week tromping around Switzerland as part of Field Week, which is something they do at the school. He had a blast.
Lindsey is four. To let you know what it's like to raise Lindsey, I'll tell you that Stace recently had to convince her that it was not safe to jump off of the balcony even though Lindsey had carefully wrapped herself in a contraption consisting of yarn, string, and pipe cleaner. The balcony is four stories above the ground, but Lindsey was certain that her new invention would allow her to fly. We think we got her past the danger point. One never knows, though. Lindsey already considers herself to be an adult, and it's hard to convince an adult that she may not have everything figured out. The teenage years should be fun. Lindsey goes to pre-kindergarten every day at the same school as Tanner, so they're able to ride the bus together to and from school.
Both Lindsey and Tanner have friends from all over the world. Lindsey's best friend at school is from Australia, and Tanner's best friend is from England. It's quite a different experience from what they'd be having in the States.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
So, here we go
Okay. The Woods are finally going to start a blog. We'll see how this goes. I wonder if, like many blogs, it will start with a full head of steam and then quickly peter out as we realize that our lives aren't nearly as interesting as we'd believed and hoped they were.
As you all know by now, we moved to Switzerland this year. I got here in June. (The "I" in this sentence refers to Ethan, who is doing the writing.) Stace came with me for a few days in June because she'd had to sign up for this whole Switzerland deal without ever having actually set foot in Switzerland. She wanted to see it before we brought the kids over. (The reason Stace couldn't come with me in March for a look-see was that she'd had surgery in late February. I won't go into the details of the surgery, but it had two dramatic effects: 1. Stace lost just under four pounds in an hour; and 2. when I hug Stace, it no longer knocks the wind out of me and doesn't crack my ribs.)
Anyway, Stace and the kids arrived for good in July, and we've been Swiss ever since. When we got here, we quickly discovered, much to our dismay, that the English is not the official language of Switzerland. It's German, or French, or Italian, or Romansh, depending on where you are. In our part of Switzerland, it's German. I'll write about German in a future entry.
In fact, here are some of the topics I'm thinking of addressing in the future: the language; our apartment; the Swiss love of rules; the refusal of the Swiss to adopt English as their official language; the refusal of the Swiss to adopt the dollar as their official currency; the refusal of the Swiss to adopt baseball as their national sport; cheese; the refusal of the Swiss to use 110-volt power; our Swiss bank account; the art of exiting a train in Switzerland; pedestrians; the scenery; the schools; Swiss garbage; cows and their bells; walking sticks; the tendency of the Swiss to tell you what the speed limit isn't rather than what it is; sitting through a church service in German; time zones; and anything else I can think of. I'll take requests, too.
As you all know by now, we moved to Switzerland this year. I got here in June. (The "I" in this sentence refers to Ethan, who is doing the writing.) Stace came with me for a few days in June because she'd had to sign up for this whole Switzerland deal without ever having actually set foot in Switzerland. She wanted to see it before we brought the kids over. (The reason Stace couldn't come with me in March for a look-see was that she'd had surgery in late February. I won't go into the details of the surgery, but it had two dramatic effects: 1. Stace lost just under four pounds in an hour; and 2. when I hug Stace, it no longer knocks the wind out of me and doesn't crack my ribs.)
Anyway, Stace and the kids arrived for good in July, and we've been Swiss ever since. When we got here, we quickly discovered, much to our dismay, that the English is not the official language of Switzerland. It's German, or French, or Italian, or Romansh, depending on where you are. In our part of Switzerland, it's German. I'll write about German in a future entry.
In fact, here are some of the topics I'm thinking of addressing in the future: the language; our apartment; the Swiss love of rules; the refusal of the Swiss to adopt English as their official language; the refusal of the Swiss to adopt the dollar as their official currency; the refusal of the Swiss to adopt baseball as their national sport; cheese; the refusal of the Swiss to use 110-volt power; our Swiss bank account; the art of exiting a train in Switzerland; pedestrians; the scenery; the schools; Swiss garbage; cows and their bells; walking sticks; the tendency of the Swiss to tell you what the speed limit isn't rather than what it is; sitting through a church service in German; time zones; and anything else I can think of. I'll take requests, too.
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