Last mention...

As the Sportferien (three amazing weeks of the 'sports holiday', including more magic in Chateau-d'Oex) draws to a close, Spring has already made itself known: as we walked down The Hill on the weekend the kids and I gawped, almost speechless, at a passing elderly woman who carried in her arms a sheaf of almost fluorescing, lemon wattle. DD looked at me in absolute incredulity, as if to say, 'Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Wattle? In Switzerland?!'

When we later spotted snowdrops and other bulbs pushing through the gritty remnants of snow DS, with his world-weary voice on, remarked: 'Yes, I know those. They grow in Canberra too.'


True enough, though I wonder if in Canberra right now there are trombone-wielding carnival-goers dangling cervelat sausages off balconies into cobblestone seas of confetti-speckled, clamouring and costumed children? Maybe not. This particular variation on the Fasnacht theme is something which is peculiar to Horgen, so my local pals tell me.


As we trooped down The Hill (yet again) today the rain started to bucket, but the gaggle of kids didn't seem to care, and neither did the crowd leaping to catch bread-rolls and cervelats. I saw several sausages bounce off unsuspecting heads and sad little bread-rolls getting wetter and grubbier underfoot before we finally retired to the local Migros cafeteria to recover.

Now that I find colourful confetti in underpants and shoes and hair and corners of rooms I recall this happening last year, though it didn't quite make it into the Hausfrau's blogosphere. But it seems confetti-throwing is a serious Fasnacht sport. In the larger parades - we saw the one in Zürich last year - the kids, being in the front row of onlookers - were bombarded with industrial-strength quantities of lollies and confetti, while a friend had a confetti-blower honked down her pants and up her shirt. Nothing is sacred.

And so tomorrow it'll be business as usual as the kids go back to school and we start the familiar roll-call of choir and swimming and soccer, as well as German classes for the Hausfrau. It's time to think about enrolling in activities for the new school year because yes, we are in Switzerland, and everyone is six months ahead of themselves.

I should just mention at this point that things in 2009 are in good shape for the Hausfrau: not only was she recently invited to the birthday party of a local Swiss friend, but she managed to play a full round of poker in Swiss-German.


But I guess you really know you've made it as a Hausfrau when you receive an invitation to a Swiss Tupperware party...

What is there left to say?

Vive la Hausfrau!

The Cold

This afternoon I braved snow and sub-zero temperatures with my new hiking boots. The destination was the small village up and over the ridge which looms behind our apartment. The first time I was there was in summer, when DS and DD spotted a water-rat in the lake. Since then I've observed many a horse and rider trekking through the forest, as well as various water birds, dogs and even hogs.

Today, however, the place was silent, the lake frozen over. I didn't see a single bird, and the only movement was from the occasional pair of walkers or joggers as they passed. As I walked further up the hill I could feel my face growing numb, but I have to say this was nothing in comparison to our most recent excursion to Chateau-d'Oex, where the Hausfrau and family spent four magical days in what could only be described as an idyllic place to while away the hours and bring in the New Year.

As the church bells chimed midnight the Hausfrau and company wrapped themselves in blankets and stepped onto the balcony of the chalet to see flurries of fluffy snow settling on already snow-laden branches, chalet rooves, and the twinkling town in the valley below. Flashes of fireworks colour smeared the mist, totally out of sync with the explosive bangs. And as we returned to our wild and crazy New Year party - er, Scrabble game - unsecured shutters slammed, and more snowy weather moved in.

Having pooh-poohed people who go on and on about the weather, I am about to go on and on about the weather. Let me qualify: when your mouth gets so cold it can't form words properly, and when chocolate simply gets ground into a kind of chocolate pulver in your cheeks (as was the case for us when we visited the local Flumserberg slopes after Christmas with my own DB), you tend to notice that yes, it is kinda cold.

Indeed, as we skidded and crunched our way through snow at Château de Gruyères, DD and I agreed that living in a castle looked like it'd be a lot of fun (especially if you were on the set of her newest favourite tv show, Merlin), but the reality would've been kind of chilly, especially without long johns.

I personally enjoyed zooming through all the different rooms in the chateau, but was mostly taken with the amusing evidence that humans are reliably (well, apart from the odd Shaker) driven to decorate or beautify furnitures and dwellings. To add our personal touch? To warm up an otherwise cold room? Who knows. Maybe it's because we just can't help ourselves.

Warming up to Christmas

As we head towards the end of 2008 at a rate of knots I've been enjoying the Christmas lights and the smell of roasting chestnuts as I wade through days of rain and – in the last 24 hours – snow. I can't help noticing the odd local teenager with handfuls of snow loitering behind trees or around corners lying in wait for unsuspecting classmates, and today on his return from school DS presented me with a super snowball; it's stored on the back deck – just in case he needs it.

I've also been making a habit of going out for a curry with my Dear Swedish Pal after our German class, and last night as we travelled down the Autobahn the pine forests were white - the whole place has really transformed, and the Hausfrau is loving it.

I did have a rather sad week last week as we had to wave farewell to the Dear Local Queen of the Babysitters (who kind of turned into the Dear Local Friend), as she has headed off to – would you believe it – Australia, to go to Uni for a year in Sydney. Yes, a sad day for the Hausfrau, who had huge fun trying her hand at the Swiss language and customs. Before the DLQB left she even found time to show me how to make Lebkuchen, traditionally eaten on 6th December to coincide with the visit of Samichlaus and Schmutzli.

Me: (as we get the Lebkuchen out of the oven) Oooh, it's kind of soft.
DLQB: Ja. It's soft. Then it goes really hard. Then by the time you eat it it's soft again.

We've been racking up the Christmas activities this year with more candle-dipping, a spot of wreath-making down at the DLQB's church, setting up the Christmas tree, and a visit to see Samichlaus and Schmutzli – actually, DS has managed to see Samichlaus three times this season, including when the Dear Amazing Kindy Teacher took the kids on a surprise visit to the local forest where Samichlaus awaited their arrival.



I had an extremely proud Hasufrau moment when we went to hear DD sing in her first concert with the Kinderchor (in the same amazing, eye-boggling church that the Hausfrau sang in). And tomorrow morning I will be lucky enough to hear both DD and DS at Adventsingen with their respective classes in another of the local churches.




And, finally, DD and I had a very Christmas-y adventure in the city when we went to see some of our younger friends perform in 'A Little Princess'. I couldn't help being reminded of special Christmas outings with my own DM when we lived in London - the lights, the snow, the mother and the daughter... I wonder if DD will remember Zürich.

But, just in case she doesn't, there's always the blog... Vive la Hasufrau!

Sweden II

My Dear Swedish Pal had a mission while we were in Sweden: to renovate a recently acquired 1940s timber cottage as a summer house. For that reason, she spent a lot of time at the house stripping 1970s wallpaper off walls, and painting and sanding and so-on.







The Hausfrau was compelled to busy herself with various cameras as the place was idyllic, set amongst copses of shimmering leaves with apples quite literally falling off trees. DS and her Dear Medium-sized Swedish Pal spent hours collecting autumnal delights like flowers and chestnuts and apples, and converted the old shed into a club house.


I'm not going to pretend it was warm: it wasn't. We had a run of stormy days with icy winds, but when the days were clear they went on for miles. The land is so flat, compared to Switzerland. The sun sat low and cast a gentle light through the leaves all day, and the Hausfrau was happy to be in low density housing again, where you can hear the rain and wind and have light coming from all directions into the house. Very different from apartment living, which sometimes feels like its own sealed biosphere.

It was really too late to see native orchids flowering, as they tend to flower in the summer months, but I saw in my travels a good number of flowers I didn't recognise. I also spent a fair bit of time poring over our Dear Hostess's book of Swedish flora, especially the pages of 'orcidus', as I was in the company of at least 20 plants in her house.

On one of the Hausfrau's side road trips we visited the university town of Växjö, where we spent some time walking around the old town, visited the beautiful old Viking church, which was rebuilt in the twelfth century (inside which I spotted no less than four organs - later additions, one presumes!), and - in lieu of Swedish meatballs - ate some rather good Thai food. (Ah, the globalised life!)

Another excursion led us to the town of Boda (near Kosta... near Orrefors...), and the word which springs to mind here is 'lucky', as we arrived at the Kosta Boda glass warehouse on a rare sunny day and, because of that luck with the weather, got to see some cool light-effects through aisles and aisles of coloured glass. Let's face it, glass without sunlight can seem a bit pointless.

I'd have loved to see the workshop in action, but perhaps it was for the best, as DD and DS seemed to be having some difficulty staying still. For example, DD spent an enormous amount of time compulsively cartwheeling: not an ideal thing to be doing in a glass workshop.

As the holiday progressed, DS's bedtime became later and later, and our conversations became more and more 'interesting'. Par example, this little gem at 11pm:

DS: Do you know how flies taste, Mum, by the way?
Me: Um, can't say I do. Probably a bit crunchy?
DS: With their mouth of course. Yeah, because you taste with your mouth, not with your nose. I can only taste when I put something in my mouth.

(I guess you can see the implication there...)

And, now that we are back in Switzerland, I must say that we are having a little trouble adjusting to being back at school, despite the end of daylight savings where we allegedly gain an hour. The only morning that the kids leapt out of bed at lightning speed was last week, when we awoke to a white world.

Yep, snow in October!

PS Naturally, it would be a mistake to think we could visit Sweden without a trip to IKEA, especially when DSP was renovating. So picture DS in his red ear muffs driving an IKEA trolley up and down aisles with the sole aim of going as fast as he can, while the Hausfrau and DSP load five beds onto trolleys and then into the trailer in teeming rain. (Luckily we'd fortified ourselves with Swedish meatballs and cranberry sauce prior to this.)