After Oz

Just as pre-Spring buds on trees in Australia were starting to make themselves known we arrived back in Switzerland to the occasional lazy yellow autumn leaf drifting to the ground.

However, we did managed to have a solid week of sun, during which we visited nearby Oberrieden Badi, where I sampled a tasty but slightly odd (i.e. with canned sweet corn) Thai salad; after-school activities got into full swing; and DS and I took a Schiff (a boat which thinks it's a bus) on the glassy, turquoise Lake.

The week was hazy and tropical, and ended with the birthday party of DS, a very Swiss-German affair involving about ten sweaty and excited six- to ten-year-olds and several soccer balls.

Actually no; it ended with the Hausfrau heading into the city to see a movie and eat Malaysian noodles with a friend. Not half bad.


A few observations after returning to Switzerland from three weeks in Oz:

DS can eat ice-cream with chopsticks and enjoys playing 'Bidmanton' with 'Hottlecocks'.

Canberra is cold. (This from the Hausfrau who had braved the Jungfrau.)

Sydney is big. Well, bigger than Zürich.




Both of my offspring refused to speak more than a couple of words of German while we were on holiday.

DD got the giggles on the plane from London to Zürich when she realised she could understand the air steward's German announcements.

Both of my offspring appear now to speak only Swiss-German in our apartment playground.


Friends are friends even when you don't see them very often.

Holiday antics

There have been a few times since we've been here when I have unintentionally broken rules, and had to suffer the consequence. (Let's not mention the compost in the wrong bin episode...)


There was the time I travelled without my travel pass on the train, and was emphatically told off for not carrying the receipt with me. I was fined only 5 Francs, but had to show up at the main station with my receipt the next day. Could have been worse.

Another time I took a huge bite out of a sandwich while I was on the bus. I can't say for sure if I was thinking at the time. The bus driver turned around and said something which more or less meant, 'No eating on the bus'.

But that wasn't the end of it. A nearby passenger turned around too and said (in German), 'Who was that? Was that you?'

Then there's our neighbour: When DS is in full fog-horn voice our neighbour crosses the landing to ring our bell and then runs back into his apartment cursing, and slams the door. It took me a few times to realise it was him and not just some kids ringing random bells as they passed the building. And I could go on about the odd neighbour behaviour in these parts (there's another sour-faced couple who shoo the children out of the playground, if you can believe that...), but I think we are doing OK, considering it's only the second week of the holidays.

Luckily for us, the local Gemeinde puts together a School Holiday activities list to get us out of the house, which arrived in the last week of school with strict instructions to return by a certain date to certain named person.

Thus began the frantic attempt to de-code all the activities. I must have given up or passed out soon after I started reading the German, because at the last minute I had to enlist the help of my Dear English Pal - with her fluent German - to assist in the translation. Some events were not at all what I'd envisaged (sewing pearls onto a t-shirt, for instance, which sounds like something to be avoided at all costs, so it's lucky I discovered its true meaning before I checked the box for that one). But aside from that all went according to plan, and the children were accepted into a good number of activities. I must mention that I broke a rule by handing the form in a day late, but was pleasantly surprised to find I was not penalised. No problem.

On the first day of the holidays DD had the opportunity to go to one of the well-reputed restaurant kitchens in Zürich to make pizza and dip strawberries in chocolate (hey, this is Switzerland). DS and I followed on the train at a requisite distance until we reached the city and then waved goodbye to DD... and then discovered that the Hausfrau had somehow left her Eftpos card in a machine somewhere, and she was without even enough cash to get DS the promised hot chocolate. Poor DS: I dragged him back on the train, then walked him up The Hill, then up The Hill even further to the shop I'd left the card at, then walked him all the way down The Hill, back on the train... just in time to pick up DD at the station.

Day One, and DS's comment was: 'Mum, when are we going to start having fun?'

By Day Two things were looking up. DS had a play with his Dear Little Kiwi Pal in the morning and went up to a local farmhouse in the afternoon to find out where milk comes from. He returned with an empty cup (presumably after having drunk fresh milk), and informed me that yes, of course he had milked a cow, and DLKP had found a grasshopper.

By the end of the week, we'd seen a magic show (which the Hausfrau watched too but was then informed by an amused friend that adults weren't supposed to go in) and DS had visited the local Bergwerks, which appears to be a museum which holds old coal-mining stuff. Turns out there is a large mine under our town which stops not far from the roots of our very apartment.

And by the time the weekend rolled around our Dear Aussie Pals arrived from Tokyo, and there was much eating of Thai food and chocolate to be done. The Hausfrau even joined them in a walking tour of the old town in Zürich, which was enlightening in as much as it enabled me to visualise Zürich in its various stages of development, and see some nooks and crannies which I'd not yet discovered.

I have to say that the highlight of the week was without a doubt hearing the amazing Stimmhorn, a vocal/horn duo who combine horns of all shapes and sizes (including alpenhorns) and the vocal gymnastics mix of Tibetan chant harmonics with - you guessed it - yodelling. Wow.

Stuff I Like

As I sit here at 7.30am (DS has been up for at least two hours already), I can see Dear Herr Caretaker, the caretaker of our apartment block, tipping his cap at a passer-by while he sucks on his cigar and aims a jet of water at the driveway of the neighbouring apartment.

Which brings me to a couple of things. Firstly, the apartment car parks here are pretty cool. Most of the apartment blocks seem to have automatic, sliding doors in the side of a hill which lead to secret underground parking. Brilliant. At least the Hausfrau thinks so; we moved from low density housing to apartment living, and I'm still getting used to not seeing car carcasses littered across front yards or in car ports.

But back to DHC, and another thing I enjoy about Switzerland is the water. If DHC had been casually jet-spraying his driveway in Oz, passers-by would have stopped their car by now to remind him of water restrictions. Oh yes, I witnessed this many a time at home in Canberra.

In Switzerland it's a moot point. There's water enough to sink a ship. Fountains and bubblers run constantly on street corners (there are 1,200 water fountains in the city of Zürich), and the water is clean and drinkable. I personally am enjoying the occasional spot of guilt-free hydrotherapy after a long day's Hausfrauing.

Going down to the 'Badi' (Bad being the word for 'bath'), as it is known, is the thing to do right now. In summer the lakeside is totally transformed: swimming areas in the lake are opened, and I frequently see parks - or any available stretch of green - littered with bronzing bodies in bikinis and boardies, cafés and grills, and change-rooms and huts. There are also men- or women-only Seebads at least one of which I can happily confirm transforms into an über-cool bar in the evening.




At this point I must proudly report that DH swam across the Zürichsee (Lake Zürich) from Mythenquai to Tiefenbrunnen with approximately 800 other swimmers a couple of weeks ago. Go, DH! (That's him in the orange cap, ha!)

And just by way of contrast, I recall during the 2003 Canberra bushfires there was a stretch of time during which we were asked not to use washing machines or anything which would use too much water and reduce water pressure for the firefighters. I sat on our back step with baby DS, watching black ash fall on DD in the sandpit, with buckets of dirty nappies and growing piles of sheets and towels in the laundry. At the time I wondered if this was the future for the land of Oz. I suppose time will tell, but for now the Hausfrau has a reprieve: Now summer comes in fits and starts because there is just so much rain. Morning air is cool and damp, and DHC mows at least once a week before the bees start having too much fun in wildflowers and clover.


One more Thing I Like: When DH and I went out for dinner the other night (yes, the DLQB was in residence), I greeted (in Swiss-German) three mildly shady-looking chaps as we passed. Naturally, they sniggered and greeted us back, but DH was less than enthused ('...er, nobody says that in the city'). Oops, but I confess I was in Automatic Greeting Mode, since everyone in our local township obsessively greets each other when they pass in the street. And, like a good Hausfrau, I follow suit.

All the kids say 'Grüuezi' (the Swiss-German greeting) or 'Morgen' first thing in the morning (short for Guten Morgen). Even the teenage boys with their Emo hair, spiked dog-collars and lip-rings swagger along until they reach the Hausfrau, at which point they squeak: 'Grüuezi'. This I find endlessly amusing, but I figure one ought to get some respect from the youth of today when one is dutifully pumping out hot lunches and living the domestic life which, it seems, is the recommended Status Quo for a Swiss Hausfrau.

In any case, at my age I like to think of myself as an experienced and wise elder of the community, due a bit of respect even if I do speak German like a four-year-old.

Some serious yodeling

Question: Did the Hausfrau go to the Yodeling festival in Luzern?

Answer: Is the Hausfrau a Slave to the Rhythm?

Of course she did!

Every three years this festival is held and, having listened my fair share of bluegrass and yodeling Americana I figured it was about time I heard the real thing. (Pics above are of flag-throwing, by the way, another traditional 'sport'.)

Naturally, the excursion was coloured somewhat by the moaning and squabbling of two offspring who were less than enthused to be trucked in on a boiling hot summer's day to hear... yodeling. DH at least disguised his underwhelmedness behind sunglasses and the map.

However, there was a breeze coming in across Lake Luzern and - once we had found a position to watch the parade - the running of the cows (and their, ahem, urine) turned sour faces into grins, and we were in for a treat, including... oh yes! Alphorns!


Even the local music shop appeared to sell these amazing instruments. My question is: How on planet earth were these things invented? They are easily three metres long. Though I guess if you live atop of a three kilometre high mountain you wouldn't be so concerned about space restrictions.

The thing that surprised me about Alphorns and the yodelling was how gentle and harmonious it was. Perhaps this was due to the fact that the yodelling we heard was all choral rather than solo. I will have to search out some solo yodelling action before we leave this amazing country, just to hear the difference.

I do know that traditional style folk music is taken fairly seriously here. I recall, on our arrival, mirthfully discovering a television station which played folk music in earnest. By that I mean hours of 2-shot camera work in one tiny, traditional-style room with a small and serious group of singers and instrumentalists in traditional costume. I suppose they were enjoying themselves, but it did look a little like an endurance test for some.

I sense this is a good place to wind up with a couple of pics of the Aussie yodeling contingent in Luzern, who threw little koalas into the crowd - one caught by DD, who was most chuffed.

I will also add that the Hausfrau has been invited to sing again with the Project Choir: this time Bach Cantata 169.

Yodel-ay-hee-hee!