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.