"Aging" our pirate birthday party invitations!

Jack and Liam had to make their birthday party list. They gave me a yes, no and maybe as I called out each of their classmates names.

Jack: wanted to invite EVERYONE. Especially the girls.

Liam: “no. no. no. no. no.” and then just when I was about to get worried that he’d have no one to invite, he said yes to a few names. Very selective of who was invited. Picked all boys.

I’m telling you, the list of differences I started in their “memories book” is soon becoming an entire chapter of it’s own. These boys are total opposites!

I then went through Jack’s list with him again to pare it down (I can’t have 45 kids at this party, sorry!) and when I got to the last name, I saw him stall a bit before saying, “okay, yes”.

After seeing him be more selective the second time around (knowing that he could only have 20 friends there), I asked him what made him say yes for this little boy. I knew something was going on in that little mind of his.

“Well…he’s always a bit sad and I think he’ll be really happy at my birthday party so he should come.”

And then came the momma tears.

To be honest, it’s a mixed-bag.

Working for Apple – very cool.
Working in Information Systems & Technology dept. – very lame.
Plenty of sunshine – awesome.
Having a car – fun.
Driving everywhere – depressing.
Cheap consumer goods – helpful/frightening.
Violent crime in neighbourhood – alarming.
Proximity to extended family – blessing.
Surrounded by English language – useful/dull.
“Wild” wilderness – amazing.
Bankrupted state/federal governments – frustrating

It’s very difficult not to compare it to both our life in Canada and our (brief) time in Switzerland. There was much that we loved in Europe, but there are aspects to California that also inspire and excite us.

But does that outweigh the negatives?

Time will tell.

Surf over to my Domestica blog to read more.

Even when sometimes they really should have stayed inside.

As I traveled to Europe this month for a friend’s wedding, I couldn’t help but miss having Tim there — I voice most of my inner thoughts to him (okay, I voice all my inner thoughts to him) and without that release, I had to start jotting things down in my iPhone for fear they would burst out at the most inopportune moment.  It just didn’t seem right to not share the experience with someone, even if only  in tweet form.

Day One: San Fran to London, England > Basel, Switzerland

Seat neighbor on this long-haul flight reeks like cheap perfume.
Planes should be scent-free zones.

After witnessing me drink wheat grass and make my own lettuce wraps from the contents of my portable cooler, I’m pretty sure perfume girl thinks I’m a health Nazi. Might be why she hasn’t touched her dessert bar.

I’m beginning to think I have a tendency to motivate people into making good choices through straight intimidation.

Scratch that. Perfume girl is downing multiple shots of vodka with no remorse.

Decided that I’d rather smell perfume girls’ knock-off scent than the six shots of vodka oozing out of her pores. Gross.

Did I just get wolf whistled at coming out of airport arrivals?! Really? After a ten hour flight over 8 time zones? At risk of insulting myself, dude…those are some low standards.

In the heart of London. Stupid tourist move #1: Everyone is walking down the stairs on the opposite side and I’m going against traffic wondering what is wrong with these peoples manners. Must try to remember that they drive on the opposite side of the road.

Too late. Just looked the totally wrong way before stepping out into the street. Thankfully it was an agile cyclist coming my way and not a taxi.

I keep thinking cars are driving by with no driver. I catch myself dismayed by the woman reading a paper until I realize she’s the passenger.

Been up for 20 hours now.  Double espresso time!

Big Ben, check. Parliament, check. Westminster Abbey, check. Only 9:45 and on my way to London bridge!

London bridge deserves to fall down. Lame.

Pop a Clif Shot Block for some instant sugars. Eat some mixed nuts even though my stomach doesn’t know up from down right now.

One bridge over to the Tower of London. Much better!

Everyone is skinny. And they are all walking. Hmmmmm… #onlyineurope

I’m talking to myself a lot. I miss Tim.

First dumb tourist question: “why is everyone gathered at the gate to Buckingham Palace?”  Somewhat-disgusted Locals’ Answer: “Its the changing of the guard.” (read: “duh. Kind of a big deal.”)

I waited with thousands of people for over an hour just for that? Changing of the guard = #touristfail

I have an uncanny ability to happen upon strolling marching bands. Seriously. #onlyineurope

Hitting Hyde Park – beautiful rose garden. Stumble upon a massive gun salute. Unfortunately, a horse collapses and the 4-tonne ancient firing cannon it was pulling falls on top of it.

No more gun salute.

Women texting on her smart phone while in full burka…can’t help but strike me as odd. #clashingcultures

Caffeine Round two: people watching on a cafe terrace in Picadelly Square while sipping an espresso. Why does coffee just taste better on this side of the Atlantic?!

Boys sure know how to dress in London. My hubby would love this place.

People smoking on the cafe and restaurant patios. Apparently the UK didn’t get the memo.

Time to leave London.  Catching my express train back to Heathrow and the last advertisement I see has my name on it…and an interesting description…

Back to Heathrow and cleared security in five minutes! Now 9am my body time and still haven’t slept more than the three hours I napped on the plane. Feeling shaky and like I’m going to puke. Water, water, water. No more stimulants!

On last leg of journey to Basel. London to Basel, 1.5 hrs. Falling into a deep sleep. The kind of deep sleep that produces open-mouth drooling. This should be humiliating.

Flight is over and was a dry affair. (phew) Just some awkward jolt-you-awake snoring. 8:30 pm local time and feeling revived again from the power nap!

Bus from Basel airport to main train station — in my old ‘hood.  Tearing up while waiting for my tram. Didn’t expect to feel so overwhelmed with emotion. Why is my heart in Switzerland?

Out for drinks with Martin and his misses. So much for smoking ban. In typical Swiss fashion, they found a rule to trump the rule. Just create a members-only smoking club. In every bar. #onlyineurope

Martin’s friend Peggy asks me if I work out. Ummm…yes. Why do you ask? Can tell by my arms. I have perhaps never loved a stranger more than this moment.

How is it still Day One?!

Day Two: Wedding in Fribourg, Germany

Fast train to Fribourg with four boys already on the sauce. Not feeling like a very good Tim replacement right now!

Authentic German food at the wedding. Super tasty and way healthier than most our typical buffets. There are so many reasons Europeans are thinner than us.

Good to see old friends but the dance floor just isn’t the same without my smooth moves hubby.

Walking into Martin’s flat, he passes right over a wad of cash on the ground. I stop and pick it up. 80 francs!! It pays to be sober!

4am my time. Finally able to connect with my boys (all three of them). Tim tells me they just walked in from seeing Kung-Fu Panda 2. Jack informs me that he is now a “Kung-Fu master”.

I miss my family already.

Day Three – Four: Bennwil, Switzerland

En route to see friends in the Swiss countryside.

Something doesn’t feel right about this train ride.

Instincts correct. Was suppose to get off twenty minutes ago. Buy new ticket to go back. Now spidey-senses are tingling again. The train left five minutes early. Swiss trains never leave early. I think I just got on the wrong train.

It’s all coming back to me now. The reality of living in a foreign country.

Yep. Wrong train. Thankfully, mine is behind us. Getting off and hoping I can grab it. Grrrrrr.

Note to self: Every time I get homesick for Europe, just remember all the times I stranded myself by screwing up train timetables.

Finally on the right train and waiting to leave.  A family of Swiss kids are walking around the dirty train station with no shoes on. Is it really all that dirty or is my initial response just a sign of my North American fragility?!

My Swiss friends joke that although we may think the floor is too dirty for the kids’ feet, the Swiss probably think the kids feet are too dirty for the floor. Priceless.

Days Five to Seven: Back to Basel

Dudes cracking a beer on the tram. Beer = Water. #onlyineurope

Church bells. All day. All night. Miss that. #onlyineurope

My wallet is suffering from split-personality disorder. 4 currencies in one week abroad. #onlyineurope

It’s almost easier to enjoy the beauty and culture while only visiting. I drink it in and store it away with other cherished memories because I know the comfort of home awaits me.

Martin’s girlfriend makes me the most amazing vegetarian dinner on the fly. Breaded zucchini, mixed greens with housemade vinaigrette and wonderfully spiced mashed potatoes. I love a girl who can whip together a fab meal with whatever random contents are in the fridge! #hasmyvote

I’ve already adjusted to the european way of transit. I walk out of Martin’s flat just in time to see my tram leaving and lament the fact that I have to wait a whole five minutes for the next one.

Lunch at Tibbits with a good friend. My entire family can eat out (well) in the US for the same price of my one lunch plate here. 17 francs for one plate of salads and vegetarian fare. #onlyineurope

Day Eight: Liestal, Switzerland

Yes I’m eating ten dollars worth of chocolate. The best chocolate you’ve ever put in your mouth. #onlyineurope

Practically making love to this chocolate. In fact, I just realized my stop was two back. It’s that good.

Not such a bad thing. Walk off a few of those chocolate calories. #onlyineurope

Women walks out of the hair salon, where she probably just dropped 200 francs for a haircut — and puts her bike helmet on. #onlyineurope

Meeting up with a friend to go to Germany for an “Art & Dialogue” dinner event. She’s trying to confirm with the place and cries, “oh I hate dialing other countries!” #onlyineurope

Amazing dinner and discussions with quick friends. Who knew my trip would include a lesson in self-expression as an artist?!

Day Nine: Liestal and Fluh, Switzerland

Start the day with my good friend Jillian Michaels. My hostess, Andrea, is doing her 30 Day Shred every morning. I may be on vacation but my scale is not! Plus, I just ate ten francs worth of chocolate, remember?

En route to Fluh to visit a Catholic church I visited once while living here. Grotte prayer room in the basement has haunted me ever since.

Randomly meet our Swiss friend Jonas on the train! He’s taking his two kids to the Basel Zoo. It’s raining but you know, he’s Swiss. They’re not as wimpy as us.

Step off the tram in Fluh — a village that consists of one corner store and that’s about it.  There’s a bus waiting but I’m not sure it’s mine. Drives away while I read the schedule. Crap! Should have just asked!

Wait another hour or hike up the hill 2 km? I open my umbrella and choose hike.

I choose wrong. My ballerina flats are actually doubling as swimming pools right now.

I choose doubly wrong…I forgot I had cached my map directions to the church while still on Andrea’s wifi…the flag I saw was for downtown Fluh…the flag for the church is muuuch further. And there are no sidewalks left to walk on.

I’m 4 km in and turn around to walk back to the nearest bus stop. Why am I so freakin’ retarded when it comes to travel directions!?!?

Thank goodness for the kleenex in my purse. I wipe out my soaking wet flats and dry off my cold feet.

I am having a nightmarish thought that the church will be closed.

Made it. It’s open. I’m only half freezing and my jeans are only soaked halfway up my legs. #couldbeworse

The place is as haunting as I remember. I feel like God has been hanging out in this carved out mountainside prayer room for centuries. I know what the Holy Spirit feels like. I’m pretty sure I know what Jesus feels like. But for some reason I feel like in this room I am experiencing God, the Ancient of Days, for the first time.

Back to Andrea’s. Making Indian food! Butter Chicken, Red Lentil Curry, Indian Okra, Spiced Rice and handmade Naan. As Jack would say…we “NAAAAILED IT!”

Gonna be good to hug those boys!

Day Ten: Goodbye Europe!

Second morning with Andrea and round two of 30 Day Shred. Get ‘er done!

Shoot! Andrea and I have no photos with each other. She’s a good sport and poses in her sweaty gym gear.

Last minute dash to get fresh bread for Tim! His mistress, European White Bread. I decided to check my suitcase instead of carrying it on for fear that having the jar of Nutella and warm European bread in such close proximity to me would result in me not having any presents for Tim after all.

Security takes my organic sheep milk yogurt! Over the 100ml limit. Grrrr. Apparently America is more lenient than the EU when it comes to liquid! Who would have thought?!

Flipping through a deserted woman’s mag (in German) and sipping my final European espresso. Unfortunately their playing Britney Spears and it’s kinda ruining the moment.

Oy!! Article on sex and cover page is a picture of a totally nude (and bare-all) woman straddling a buck-naked guy and gettin’ it on. Next page is them attempting a more (ahem) difficult pose. You’d think I’ve picked up some kinda racy mag but no… #onlyineurope

Breasts are thought of so incredibly different here! Sex in general is just perceived so differently here. I remain unchanged — as my pastor friend says; “your marriage should be R-rated”. But I’ll keep it to a private showing, thanks.

I gotta say though, her breasts are small and her thigh is sorta squishing out over his and it looks a bit flabby. Its oddly refreshing compared to the airbrushed Puritan perfection we see back home. I just wish we could find a happy medium between the two! #onlyinheaven

Liam, on the other hand, bailed on the nearby grass and was thankful to still be alive. There would be no repeat performances for him!

Of course Jack decided he would do it over and over again — until mommy freaked out and said enough! I’m pretty sure all the other parents in the park were giving us the evil eye as they watched us let our son do something pretty dangerous (the hill was steep, scattered with loose tree branches, and he’s on a flimsy little scooter that is not meant to go so fast!). But hey, gotta let boys be boys.

And here’s an example of just what that looks like…

And while we’re at it, click here to see another hilarious throw-back!

I celebrated bringing the cows down from the high pastures in the autumn. I roamed the streets of Basel when all hell broke loose for Fasnacht. I rode my bicycle everywhere. We put burning candles on our Christmas Tree. I sunk my teeth in the mouthwatering McFondue burger – a local treat. When the World Cup was being played in South Africa, we joined the raucous celebrations in the middle of Europe. I swam in the Rhine River.

When I told my European friends and co-workers that I was going to move to California, I asked them for a list of “classically” American experiences that they think I should try out. Here’s what we came up with:

• Monster Trucks
• Nascar Racing
• Hamburgers the size of my head
• NFL “football”
• MLB
• Shooting guns

Obviously, there is much more to the American experience than this limited and fairly crude list, but it was an entertaining place to start.

…and now I can knock the last item off of the list.

Over Christmas supper with some new friends, I found out that most of them had guns, and that sport shooting with shotguns is quite a popular activity. I almost burst out laughing – sort of like when I met Swiss who would gush about cheese fondue. For real?

Last week I got an invitation to join a few guys for some skeet shooting at an outdoor sporting club south of San Jose, so I jumped at the opportunity. The last time I fired a gun was in 1999, and it was an automatic assault rifle, as I was getting my final certification with the Canadian Armed Forces. And when I finished my service, I promptly forgot the whole thing.

The fellow with the new shotgun – Alex – was really excited. He’d only had his new gun out once before, and he was eager to try it again. The other fellow – Ryan – is from Nebraska, and had grown up with guns, but didn’t have one now. So we loaded a backpack full of shotgun shells ($6 for 20), arranged for the skeets, and set out on a walk.

It was a lot like golf, only more awesome, because you get to shoot things and they explode. Much more satisfying than dropping an egg into a hole.

We walked from station to station – eighteen in total – and assessed the challenge at each one. Would the skeets travel from left to right? Would they be floaters or quick? Would they coast over the ridge directly to you? Would it be a “rabbit” that skitters and rolls across the ground? Regardless, you just needed to point the gun and waste ‘em.

So. Much. Fun!

So scratch one from my list of American “To-Do”, and chances are good that I’ll take Tasha out do enjoy that experience next time.

I’ve stopped spelling English words correctly – gasp! What would my Queen say!

I now grudgingly spell “gray” instead of “grey”, and I have adapted to a host of other changes such as:

• analyze vs. analyse
• center vs. centre
• honor vs. honour
• check vs. cheque
• catalog vs. catalogue

But what can I do? I’m immersed in the overpowering cultural tsunami of Americana!

Hell, I’ve even started to pronounce words like them, just for fun!

I now sked-jool meetings to plan prah-jex or to improve prah-ssess.

But fear not, I still drop the inadvertent “eh” bomb often enough so that people know where I come from.

“Hi there. I just found you on the internet but I wanted to know what kind of products you have before I drive out to you.”

“Uh…what are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m actually looking for the CH sticker,” I replied.

<awkward pause>

“What sticker?” he asked, totally puzzled by my request.

“Um…you know, the Swiss country code sticker…that says CH…”

<more awkward pause>

“Oh…no, we don’t have that…we just have the Portugal one.”

“Oh.  So…is this The Swiss Shop?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yep, it is,” he replied.

“Okay…so…um…what kind of products do you sell?” I asked.

“Mainly touristy things…and many of our customers are Portugese so we have lots of Portugese items, too.”

“Sorry…so, you said that this is The Swiss Shop?” I am SO confused by this point.

“Uh…yah,” the man’s voice gave off a not-so-subtle hint of annoyance.

“Okay, well, thanks anyway…” ….click….the man had hung up before my words were even out of my mouth.

And then I burst out laughing.