Lost in translation

Initially, for this post I had planned to say:

'The few days of skiing in Klosters was the same as the week before at Amden, with the notable addition of two Infotech Central Employees, an even larger tantrum from DS, and the notable absence of Prince Charles'.

However, upon consideration, I have decided that's not entirely accurate.

For starters, we drove there, instead of catching the train (much easier on the Hausfrau's muscles). And we also stayed in a fellow Dear ICE's apartment, which turned out to be an oasis of comfort. I'd even go so far as to say it was gemütlichkeit, a phrase used by folk around these (and German) parts to allude to an atmosphere of warm friendliness, amicability or cosiness. There is no literal translation in English, but whatever the case, this place had it.

Me: (sitting on comfy sofa with tired ski-legs and hot tea in hand) [thinks] Hmm. I'd love a blanket for my knees. Oh, look! There's one right here! And it's so soft and snuggly!

(moments later)

Me: [thinks] Hmm. I just need to put my tea down but there's no side table, and the ottoman is too soft. It might spill. Oh, look! There's a tray! I can put it on that on the ottoman! And I don't even have to stand up!

(moments later)

Me: [thinks] Hmm. A bath might go down well... Oh, that's right! There's a spa-bath in the other bathroom!

So as you can tell, we were well-sheltered from the elements: all we had to do was ski!

Our first afternoon was spent on the 3.3km Gotschna sledging run - and that was the short run... the other run across the way at Madrisa is about 9km (!).

If you've never used a wooden sledge/sled before, let me tell you it's an acquired skill. There's no steering: just your feet and your weight. DH and I had a similar experience - we just started to get the hang of it half way down the run, but not before a couple of good stacks, and a lot of screaming and exhilarated whooping from DS and DD... oh, alright, from DH and me too.


When we finally hit the slopes for skiing in earnest we had clear days and awesome views. Daily Hausfrau-dom was left far behind for a few glorious days of carving snow, and flying (ahem, literally airborne a little too often than originally intended) down the mountain-sides.

There really aren't any literal translations from my brain to English or German to try to express how the clarity of the air, and vast expanse of snow, and abundance of happy skiers lifts the spirits.

What a privelege to be able to take time out to have an adventure like this one.



PS I couldn't say for sure if Prince Charles was lurking, but I didn't spot him.

The bus that got away

Another train trip south past Pfäffikon - oh how the Hausfrau loves this hazy stretch of Lake Zürich - this time on to Ziegelbrücke and then by bus to Amden.















Question: How many buses can one Hausfrau miss?

Answer: None at all... unless accompanied by DS.

DS: I just can't think why my legs won't work.

We excitedly watched the snow appear as the bus wound its way up the mountain roads. When we reached our stop we hauled our gear up the hill to the hotel and then had a quick turnaround and managed to - just! - catch the hourly bus (we'd already missed two buses and one train by this stage) further up the mountain in time for our ski lessons.

The children cheerfully waved me off as they joined their respective classes, and I skied off into the wild white yonder with my Dear Local Ski Instructor, who also happened to be the Local Postie.

I can really only loosely call her my DLSI, as she was quite sure I was 'very sporty' and didn't need her guidance (Ha! to Pedro at the ski hire place, at this point).

Therefore I am happy to report I had a highly entertaining afternoon being shown around the village which is peppered across the mountain-side, and greeting what seemed like just about every other instructor and Dear Local on the slopes.

She has been skiing since she was two, as have her boys, who are now both ski instructors themselves. She said when they were little she used to put them down for a nap after lunch and tell them not to move until she got back from teaching ski classes.

DLSI: I go and they fall to sleep, and then I come home and they stand up again.

She showed me her grandmother's house as well as her childhood home, and we had a rather relaxed afternoon shooting the part-English/part-German breeze as we cruised up the T-bar and chair lift.

It doesn't get much better than flying down a snow-covered mountain on a sunny afternoon: Mission accomplished by 2.30pm on Day 1. How impressive is that?!

So on the first night, after missing the hourly bus twice (despite my best efforts to motivate a mostly horizontal, snow-scoffing DS with encouragement, bribery and eventually screeching) and hauling skis and other paraphernalia back up the hill to the hotel, we descended upon the local pizzeria and watched the sunset fade behind the mountains as we sucked back icy-cold lemonades.

Me: I'm parched. I could drink a lake.
DD: It's probably from yelling so much.
DS: Yeah. Don't worry, mummy. It's probably from yelling so much.

At that point I began to let go of any hopes I'd had of DS meeting any external timetable.

And therefore, on Day 2, when DS - in absolute, total and utter exhaustion after his ski class - had the Mother of all Tantrums, the Hausfrau resignedly followed DD to a nearby rather large mound of snow and waited for the storm of flailing arms and ski-booted legs (and the bus) to pass.

Not so bad, all things considered, when you have not much else to do that day other than contemplate where you might acquire your next hot chocolate, and to admire the sensational view from atop a snow-capped Swiss mountain.

Eventually DS arrived back on earth, and we made it back to the hotel in time for dinner - with a sunrise, a hot bread-and-jam breakfast, and one last day of amazing snow to look forward to.

Vive la Hausfrau!

Giving Salvador Dali a run for his money

I was greeted by an email the other morning issuing a warning to local residents of nearby Adliswil not to drink their water supply, as there had been a sewerage leak into the drinking water supply. (Ack.)

Then I was warned that there would be country-wide air-raid-like sirens going off after lunch on Wednesday, just for practise... (In fact they did, and the hooter sent the kids running around the house and hiding under their doonas, with much dramatic screeching.)

Call it holiday fever (next week marks the beginning of the two-week Sportsferien, or 'Sports holiday' - yes, there is a holiday dedicated entirely to being healthy) or the impending Zürich Carnival due to kick off this Friday night, but as the week was drawing to a close I wasn't surprised to find myself standing in front of an enormous pile of skis, boots, stocks, helmets etc. after I impulsively booked myself and the kids in for 4 days of skiing at Amden next week.

The departure discussion with the ski-hire guys went as follows:

Pedro: You want to pick the rest of it up tomorrow?
Me: No way, dudes! What you see on the floor is what I have to carry on the train next week.
Pedro: You?
Me: And the kids. Make it so!
Pedro's boss: You want to hire Pedro? He can carry to Amden. Hahaha!
Pedro: Ja! I come free if you buy Ski Tarife (lift ticket) and hotel room.
Me: Ha. Very funny. Find me some bags and help me pack it all up, silly boys.

Preceded by:

Pedro: You ski before?
Me: Yes. A long time ago.
Pedro: How long?
Me: Er... nearly twenty years...
Pedro: (hysterical laughter) Oy! Very different! Look at the little skis! You beginner now I think!! (More sniggering.)

Anyway, they dutifully helped me pack up all the stuff, including back-protectors, the wearing of which DS is convinced makes him eligible to join the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (hmm... Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael and... Dali?).

So we lugged it all fairly uneventfully onto the train and then bus, where of course we were greeted by a bus-driver completely dressed in clown garb.

DD and I cast slightly confused looks at each other as our Dear Clown - after announcing the bus stops - cracked jokes followed by a slightly manic 'hahaha'. We could only assume we were in fact on the right planet because - truly, even with my newly-acquired Deutsch A1 Zertifikat under my belt - I had a snowball's chance in hell of understanding any of his microphone-distorted Swiss-German.

Nobody seemed too bothered by the streamers and random hoot of the party horn, however, so we decided to relax and go with the flow. Plus, the jokes must have been pretty funny, because the Dear Locals were all giggling.

One more thing: as I was just now cooking dinner for the troops I chanced to look out the window to see a chap sauntering along the street wearing wrapped around his torso an enormous white tuba.

At that point I confess I was compelled to check and make sure he wasn't also walking a lobster.