The Natterhorn

Twilas and Tribulations.

2008-03-06T20:27:00.001-08:00

I got a kitten. Her name is Twila-Bisous. I’ve been hesitant to post a blog about her because I didn’t want to go nuts on a kitten blog only to completely lose patience with her and sell her to what ever the kitten equivalent to a glue factory is (Chinese Food restaurant??). We’ve worked through our major issues and a few minor remain; but I can’t help it, I like this little monster.

She’s still causing me pain, I don’t want to get her de-clawed but she’s like Edward Scissor hands, a young Wolverine, or a completely mental koala bear. Two weeks ago (actually, the same night as the Butt Cookies incident) I was elbows deep in cookie dough and she decided to climb up my bare leg (I was in shorts) to get a better look at what was happening on the counter. She hung on to my thigh with nothing but nails and determination. I couldn’t hit her because I was covered in dough, so I was just wildly shaking one leg while shrieking. The screaming scared her, so she held on tighter. 15 long seconds later my wild leg shaking finally sent her flying across the kitchen floor. I sat and cried, she sat and cried. But then we talked it out.

The first few days where I was leaving her alone, I felt so bad that she was by herself so I totally over did it on cat toys. Naturally, she’d much rather play with the garbage than the toy itself. I should have learned from my dad. My mom and dad have two cats (Lala and Lee) or Staple Remover and Hole Punch (a story for another time). But my Dad doesn’t believe in spending money on toys for them so he makes his own cat toys. Apparently the big winner in Chateau Ott is the toy called “Facecloth on a string”. I don’t even think I need to explain what that is.

So no more cat toys for Twila-Bisous. She has enough fun in my closet. Last Thursday I came home and wasn’t greeted at the door. I looked around and went to my bedroom to find her tangled in 9 coat hangers in my closet (hanging in the closet). Every appendage was in a different hanger. I had to remove all 9 hangers (clothing intact) and peel them off of her one by one. She hadn’t eaten any of her food, so I actually think she was up there for hours.

We’re making this work. We have tender moments, like when she’s tired and sleeps on my shoulder, or when I found her asleep in my backpack, or when I thought that she had drank the bleach in my bathroom that I had left open for 2 minutes and I went around the house screaming for her thinking that I poisoned a kitten and that she was vomiting fire somewhere and I was going to have to keep her in my freezer until spring came and the ground thawed and everyone would think I was a horrible person, BUT she was actually under my couch playing with a twist tie the whole time. That was a nice moment.

I might post some Twila related pictures but then cut me off. It's bad enough that I have a kitten, I don't want to be the crazy blogging cat lady.

Butt I followed the recipe!

2008-01-29T09:15:00.000-08:00

Last night, I was cozy and warm at home when I decided that a good use of my time would involve making pink heart-shaped cookies for my staff meeting the next day. I carefully made a whole pan of 48 (the cookie cutter was small); perfectly shaped little love cookies to celebrate, oh, the end of January.

I checked on the cookies half way through and I was not met by a pan of hearts. All of the dough merged together, but not in a perfect giant cookie. Instead, the curvatures of the hearts were all still there but the point at the bottom was not.

In case I haven’t described this properly, I had myself a giant pan of 48 perfectly sculpted butts. Pink butts no less. Rashy pink butts in fact because the food colouring was stronger in some areas than others.

I just laughed. Laughed at the thought of serving giant eczemaed butt cookies to my coworkers—and then I told them about this at the staff meeting. The response was “I still would have eaten the butt cookies.”

I will know for next time.

My Family does the Tim Ho's Drive-Thru

2007-12-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

Every time I go through the Tim Horton’s drive thru with my father, he pulls up to the garbage can (before the “order here” box) and begins to place his order. Then we all laugh and yell “Daaaad, that’s the GARBAGE can!” And then my then my dad says “Ohh! Ha. Whoops, why do they make those things look so similar???” We finally make it to the ordering box and the conversation usually ends up in some variation of this:

Tim Horton’s Staff: Welcome to Tim Horton’s, can I take your order?
Dad: Uh, hi. I’d like a large bagel please.
THS: Sir, we don’t have large bagels. They only come in one size.
Dad: I’m pretty sure you had them the last time I was here.
THS: Sir, we’ve never had "large" bagels.
Dad: Oh, maybe I’m thinking about the small bagels then.
THS: We only have one size.
Dad: Okay, I’ll take one of those tiny bagels then.
THS: The bagels aren’t tiny sir, they’re a regular bagel size.
Dad: Ohhh I see. Could I have a timbit bagel then?
THS: We don’t have those sir. Only regular bagels.
Dad: I’m pretty sure you had them the last-
THS: Sir, we have timbit donuts. We do NOT have bagels timbits.
Dad: Well then what do you do with the middle of the bagel?
THS: I - I don’t know Sir.
Dad: Okay, okay. I’ll just have an extra small coffee please.

I will never get tired of this.

Nat Goes Flat

2007-12-21T13:19:00.000-08:00

I have moved. I feel like I never really unpacked from my last adventure because I had a strong feeling that my next step would be somewhere that required luggage. Sure enough, I’ve been dropped in Saskatchewan in a wonderful (and tiny) little community. Major changes have come with this move, I am living on my own but this time in a considerably larger abode compared to Chateau Shoebox. Unlike C.S. though, my new place is unfurnished -- which I kind of like. The rooms are spacious. I can cartwheel just about everywhere. I officially now have a bed, a kitchen table (with chairs), a couch, and a filing cabinet.

I’ve also bought a car. This is my first vehicle unless you count "The Covered Wagon" in University (named that because it had all of the qualities of a covered wagon: no air conditioning, no radio, no power windows, and a family of pilgrims living in the back). I have the most adorable black Yaris hatchback named Yimmy (the picture in this post was taken while driving Yimmy).

Yims and I get along well. I drive and sing at the top of my lungs -- he waits patiently for me when I leave him outside of the Great Canadian Superstore for an hour (that store is AMAZING).

The weather here is not nearly as cold as I had thought, but it will get colder. Cars here come with a block heater and parking spaces all have little outlets to plug into on the “cold nights”. If you don’t plug your car in, the oil turns to Jell-O and your car will explode (or something like that). To brace for the winter, I even bought a jacket that definitely belongs to the parka family; maybe a first cousin to a full blown parka. I’ve always felt that if I wear anything that doesn’t explicitly define my waist, I might as well wear a refrigerator with a hole drilled in the top. My pride lost the battle and I now trudge along in what my mom refers to as a particularly “cute refrigerator”.

Finally, to my shock and horror, for my whole life I’ve been pronouncing “Saskatchewan” incorrectly. It’s not four syllables. It’s more like three and a half. It’s actually pronounced “Sask-at-chwin” not “Sask-atch-ooo-wan” like I’ve said it all my life… It reminds me of when I was in grade four and I unknowingly pronounced “Decimal” as “Destimal” for the whole year but my teacher never corrected me. Then I went into grade five and my new teacher thought I was retarded.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2007-12-16T16:07:00.000-08:00

"The Natterhorn: A Broad Abroad" in it's current state, is retiring. But, where one adventure chapter closes, another one opens. The new and not so improved (well, I resolve to start editing more rigorously but the passive voice will likely stay) shall be launched shortly. "The Natterhorn: Nat goes Flat"

A birthday poem for Nadia

2007-11-05T09:06:00.000-08:00

Somewhere across the ocean,
My blue eyed friend is far away,
Making everyone around her smile
Even though today is HER birthday.

She comes from Poschiavo,
Among the fresh cheese and cow herds.
She sings along to Hebrew pop music,
Even pretends to know the words.

Swiss Italian, French-Canadian,
A real chameleon that way,
She waved at me 600 feet in the air,
And makes a kick-butt crème brulee. (it was actually Tiramisu, but that doesn't rhyme)

She’s fluent in French and Italian,
We needed her in Rome.
Her English is AMAZING,
Despite asking Yaron to “Ride her home”.

Nadia loves with all of her heart.
Has more care for the world than Bono,
She does everything with a passion for life,
Watch out, because sometimes she has mono.

Nadia is my partner in crime,
Swiping cookies and croissants for our snack.
Shocking the streets of Prague with our glasses,
We stole flowers, at night, from Pearl Du Lac.

She’s a colourful adventurer
And can make any garden grow.
But if you keep her up in the middle of the night
"... Monsieur, Tournez-VOUS!.. Ehn... Must sleep…Arghy... Meh.. BOH!!”

She’ll always be my life-long friend
She’s our sweet Italian cannoli,
The happiest birthday to someone truly deserving,
The one and only: Nadia Gianoli.

***please note that I have taken a certain liberty in assuming that Gianoli and Cannoli rhyme. If this is not true, I blame my online Italian rhyming dictionary.

Greece monkeys

2007-08-16T12:59:00.000-07:00

More Greece pictures to come.

2007-08-05T06:24:00.000-07:00

This is a real Greek salad.

Natalonious

2007-08-05T06:15:00.000-07:00

Last weekend (yes, Im only getting around to writing about it now) Aaron and I met Kara in Athens. We arrived in Athens at 2:30 in the morning and decided the airport was too noisy to sleep in, so we took a bus to the center of town and slept on park benches outside of the parliament buildings. I actually fell asleep and dreamt, until I was woken up because the sprinkler system turned on. I had a brief moment of panic thinking “Where am I? Am I homeless?” Which ironically, I am homeless at the moment (I moved out of my apartment last week). We made our way to the Acropolis and watched the sunrise; it really wasn’t as magical as one might think (primarily because I was butt-tired and couldn’t find a coffee shop). We met up with Kara at the entrance to the Acropolis as it opened first thing in the morning which was brilliant because it was a bearable temperature. It was incredible to walk through the Acropolis and see the Parthenon, the Nike temple, and, uh, the other stuff (did you hear that? That was the collective sigh of all of my art and history teachers). As always, it’s really difficult to summarize the whole trip, so I’ll pick out some memorable moments.

We took a boat to the island of Hydra. It was an amazing place; everything is blue and white, and there are mules everywhere. We ate lunch beside the water, slept on the beach, drank “Freddicinos’, swam in the salt water, and didn’t get heat stroke. We took a tiny boat back to the other side of the island where an old Greek man looked at Kara and I and said something and laughed. I said “I don’t understand Greek” and the old woman beside him said “He said you look like lobsters without claws”; which I found hurtful, mostly because it reminded me of how much I wish I had claws. On the way back to Athens, the waters were really rough and it may have been the worst hour and a half of my life. I was one of probably 50 people who had to employ the use of the “Eurofast Sick bags” and kindly, Aaron slept (or pretended to sleep) through my whole episode of “Greek Salad Returneth”. It was pretty embarrassing but fortunately the crew member who was assigned to hand out barf bags in our aisle put his hand on my shoulder and said “It’s okay, this happens all the time.”…. Gross.

Greece really is everything I imagined. Kara and I decided that if we had to describe it in one word, it would be “Sweaty”. If we had two words to describe it, the next would be “Brunette” (It’s amazing how in such hot weather there’s just sea of brown heads. The heat of Greece also managed to reawaken the remnants of all of my misguided childhood perms but luckily, that made me fit in more into the Greek culture.) The third word would be “Magical”. I’m not sure why I’d ever be in a situation where I’d need to limit my adjectives like that, but it can be helpful to collect your thoughts sometimes. I will most certainly return to Greece one day.

Mom, Dad!! I'm on TEEVEE!

2007-07-16T12:35:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite experiences so far happened this past week. I really immersed myself in the Montreux Jazz Festival. I managed to get myself there 4 times in one week. The first time was with Steph, who came and visited me and we checked out the town. I went the next night to see India Arie whom I LOVED. She’s an amazing woman and clearly sings from her heart and is led by God to do so. I was really inspired by her. Plus, she’s just entertaining. Some guy yelled out “I love you India” and she looks up and goes “How come I can’t get a man to say that when I’m not on stage?” I went Wednesday night with Heather to see Tori AMOS!! Who was absolutely amazing. After the concert I'm all crazy concert hyper and it's almost 1 am... As I'm leaving the stadium this camera crew is there and this woman pulls me over, puts a microphone in my face and starts talking to me in French. She paused as if it was my turn to talk and so I looked straight into the camera and put my hand at my mouth and whispered loudly into the camera "I speak English"... And I had a big retarded smile on my face. The camera crew started laughing and she says (in perfect English) "What did you think of the concert?" and I said "It was BEAUTIFUL, she was beautiful, the music was amazing; I really loved it." Heather who was with me, after the fact pointed out how funny (read: stupid) it was that I whispered "I speak English" instead of "I don't speak French".... AND then tonight I was watching Leman Blu (a local news station here) and during a segment called “REACTIONS: Tori Amos” I was on it! Thankfully my ethnocentric, deer-in-the-headlights prelude was edited out and I appear… well I won’t say “articulate” but if really could have been a lot worse.That's me!!!! Looking pretty tired at about one thirty am and we missed the 12:19 train, so we had to stay in Montreux until 2:00am on a wednesday. Fortunately, we ate my new favorite food: Merguez sausage.... Mary had a little lamb... And I ate it on a bun.

Happy Birthday Mel!

2007-06-29T09:03:00.001-07:00

Continuing the tradition of sending birthday gifts via Blog, here's a special one for my beautiful friend Mel.

Happy birthday Melissa,

This may sound a bit silly,

But writing a poem for you is easier,

Now that you married a Tilley.

Nothing against the name Forkun,

I’ve known that all my life,

We talked how it’d be awesome

If you married into the last name “Knife”.

We are in different countries.

Quite frankly, that is lame.

Without Melissa Forken Tilly,

Life’s just not the same.

I miss you so much it’s crazy,

Like an amputee misses shoes.

Like Isaiah Washington misses his job.

I miss you like L. Lohan misses booze.

I want to wish you special day

And now you’re 25!

You share the same birthday with Gary Busey.

I didn’t think he was still alive.

Oh I confused him with Nick Nolte;

Who is actually also not dead,

But you see him so often looking drugged out,

Why am I such an airhead?

That was an unnecessary digression,

I’m just writing to say,

That I love you so so much

And I wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Close, but not really.

2007-06-07T05:45:00.001-07:00

Dave: What’s this, and can I eat some?

Nat: It’s Lindt's Guava flavored chocolate. Jean brought it from Germany. I just ate some. It’s delicious.

……..Long pause……..

Dave: Wait. Isn’t “Guava” bat poop?

Mike: Um, that Guano.

Dave: Gimme some.

Thanks Nad

2007-05-16T07:57:00.000-07:00

Poor Mafia.

She’s so tired.
As demonstrated by this balled up post-it note that she just threw at my head.
If I am interpreting this properly, she is also hungry because the “o” in “so” seems to be drawn in the shape of a pizza or honeycomb.

Fly me to the moon......

2007-04-23T12:00:00.000-07:00

Squeal of delight!

2007-04-23T11:28:00.001-07:00

Happiness is....

2007-04-23T11:16:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, six lovely ladies took a very well deserved trip to heaven. Oops, sorry that sounds like we died but I’m just trying to paint a picture of how beautiful Interloken and Lauterbrennen was.
We stayed in an adorably warm and cozy cabin that had a bed almost as comfortable as bed hole with a gorgeous view of the Jungfrau and a magical waterfall. With the exception of running to catch the train (why do all of my stories include that?) it was the most relaxing weekend I think I’ve ever had. It was especially nice because this is the last time that Nadia, Nicky, Natalie, Sasha, Melissa and Caroline will be able to travel together because very shortly some of the group is moving on to bigger and better things.
OH, and most importantly, Sunday morning we went PARAGLIDING. 1000 feet up in the air over mountain tops and lakes with handsome Swiss men strapped to our backs. It was Nic and Caroline who suggested it, and we all managed to peer pressure each other into doing it all the while talking out our fears such as:

Nadia: “What if I pee my pants?”
Natalie: “You won’t pee. And if you do, I have an extra pair of pants. But I won't be able to give you your dignity back. You'll have to earn that.”

Sasha: "If I die, I need to guys to go to the apartment before anyone else and hide anything that could embarrass my parents."

Natalie: “If I die, tell Linda the Annual report is saved on the G drive and the printers at Villiere are expecting a high resolution print-ready PDF with a 5mm bleed on each side before 5:00pm on Monday-
Everyone: “STOP TALKING ABOUT WORK!!!”

Now for pictures: I will explain more about the flying process later. I must go. I have heartburn.

Pink is the new Prague

2007-04-13T12:02:00.000-07:00

Prague: Czech it out (I just can’t get enough of that pun apparently)

2007-04-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

I spent Easter weekend in Prague with Nadia, Aaron, Melissa, Caroline, Nicki, Farhad, Megan and Lindsay. We took an overnight train there and back (13 hours in a teeny tiny room)…

Prague is stunningly beautiful. We all had a great time! I love the rich colours, the textures, the buildings, the water. I love it! Aaron, Nadia and I found a great English speaking church to celebrate Easter at and we just spent the whole weekend touring the city, checking out the largest ancient castle in the world and eating food that I will dream about for years (Beer Chili Goulash anyone?? Soooo good).

The hostel we stayed in however was far from “soooo good”. It was actually quite terrible. The four girls had their own room, Far and Nic shared a room and so Aaron, Nadia and I decided to take one for the team and stay in the 8 person dorm styled room. We shared this smelly compartment with 2 super gross Italian guys and a man who was possibly suffering from some kind of horrendous lung condition. This did not make for a good night sleep. The Italians snored like chainsaws being operated by angry Velosoraptors and Mr. Lung Condition coughed up juicy internal organs every 12 seconds. Yeah, remember my post about having super sensitive hearing? Helen Keller wouldn’t be able to sleep in this room.

The first night Nadia and I were lying awake starring at each other at about 2:30 in the morning completely in shock at the cacophony of noise. Finally, Nadia couldn’t take it anymore. When Nadia gets tired/hungry/angry suddenly her language turns into some kind of English/French/Italian/Mumble/Grunt combination. “I need…throw at… something… Monsieur, Tournez-VOUS!! … Ehn…. Must sleep…Arghy… Meh.. Boh….Heeeenh!”

So I toss Nad a bag of garbage (It was either that or my blow dryer, thank me later Italians) and I will forever have this image emblazoned on my mind: A furious mumbling half awake Nadia sitting in bed in a psycho-rage tearing and balling up garbage and throwing it at Italian #2. Probably out of exhaustiong I started laughing so hard, I couldn't control it. Somehow I guess we thought that hucking a dumpster at these guys would improve the situation? The next night the exact same thing happened only Nadia climbed over Mr. Lung Condition’s bed and pulled off Italian #2’s blanket at which point he sat up. Nadia, in a Mission Impossible action-type moment, dove across the bed and pretended to sleep. Again, so incredibly funny because the guy clearly saw what she was doing. Anyway, enough about the hostel (did I mention it only had ONE shower for the whole place). More Prague to come......

Steady As She Goes

2007-04-02T13:35:00.000-07:00

After a long day at work, if I know that I’m going somewhere other than home, I like to touch up my make up on the bus. Nothing extravagant, just the basics. I’ll sit near the front of the bus so that people don’t have to watch me do this. Today, we were at a stop and I was putting on a bit of eyeliner. Suddenly I realized, ‘Why aren’t we moving?” The bus driver was waiting for me to finish putting on my eyeliner before leaving. That is REALLY nice! I’m perfectly capable of not poking my eyes out, I’ve been doing this sort of thing in cars for years; and usually I’m the one driving. I got the giggles though when I realized that a bus of like 30 people was being held up because the bus driver thought he was saving me from a life time of Braille and foldable walking sticks. So I put the pencil down and the bus driver smiled and said something to me and then drove off. I picked out the words "Madame", “Tres” and “Dangereux”. But I don't speak French, so his message remains a mystery to me.

If you need me, I'll be in my bed hole.

2007-04-01T09:18:00.000-07:00

I’ve often noted that living alone has resulted in an unprecedented level of bizarre concessions that I make based on the fact that there is no one to answer to, but me. For instance, I put a bit of polenta in everything I eat… I just like the texture. I have a towel in the middle of my floor because whenever the song “I don’t need a man” comes on French MTV, I stop everything I’m doing and do 50 crunches. And I have a little white sign taped to the top of my door handle that says “Wallet, Bus Pass, Keys, Lipstick”.

All of these things I wouldn’t do if someone else were here. (probably)

My latest concession has to do with my bed. I have a large queen sized IKEA bed. I only sleep on a quarter of it. Ikea beds often have planks that sit across the bed frame to hold up the mattress. Somehow about 5 planks have come out of place. Because of this, my mattress sinks in there until it’s stopped by the pull out mattress under my bed. I’d just like to explain, that my bed isn’t broken, I can simply put the planks back in, but words can’t even explain how comfortable it is to sleep nestled in this divot. I once walked into my bathroom at home and found my cat lying in the sink. I finally now understand why she did that. The same concept is employed here; only my cat is considerably dumber than I am.

I curl up in my bed hole every night and fall asleep immediately; I am starting to get worried that I may never be able to sleep on a straight surface again.

Snow plight

2007-03-31T12:32:00.000-07:00

This picture is an optical illusion. You see with the mountains, the hat, the ski jacket and the red ‘snow bunny’ cheeks you might think that I went skiing. I didn’t. I've only lived in Canada and Switzerland and I've still never skied in my life.

That’s why it’s an illusion.
I did however go on a fantastic winter retreat with my Young Adults Group (YAGS).

I don't have issues. I have subscriptions.

2007-03-31T12:12:00.000-07:00

I've developed super human hearing since coming here. I don't know why. But I am so easily irritated by tiny noises. I'm in my office one day and when you work in an open office (one GIANT room) you become aware of all of your coworkers habits (ie. throat clearing, loud phone conversations that no one else needs to hear, typing so hard it’s as if you are punishing the keys).
On this particular day, I suddenly heard someone breathing UNNECESSARILY loudly. Like over and over again. I just ignored it. But it kept going. I couldn't very well turn around and yell "STOP BREATHING" (although I seriously considered it). So maturely, I just sat there and got angrier and angrier.
Finally, for some reason I went to the other side of the office and out the window about 100 yards away, there was a man raking leaves. That raking noise is what I thought was the breathing. So I turned around and yelled:

"MIKE!" (Mike is our webmaster)

"I have been MAD AT YOU for 45 minutes!!!"....

Shell shocked Mike goes "What did I do?"

"You were breathing too loudly."

"I'm.... I'm sorry"

"But then I realized that it was that dude over there raking leaves. So I'm not mad at you anymore!!"

"Oh okay. I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore for something I never actually did......."

"Me too. I’m glad we had this talk."

What's your sign?

2007-03-31T11:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, I took this picture in the subway in Rome. Maybe it’s my graphic artist bent, but I love seeing how people communicate visually. This sign to me is just incredibly bizarre. Let’s rock this clockwise and start in the top left corner.

Picture one: I get it, don’t lean against the door. You might fall through. Fair enough.

Picture two: Don’t pry open the door. Again, a perfectly reasonable request illustrated in a perfectly reasonable way.

Picture three: Who would ever voluntarily put themselves in this position? According to my trusty (and NEVER inaccurate) word for word online translator the message is “not to go up or to come down during the closing”. I think a better caption would be “Don’t be a friggin’ idiot” which may or may not translate to: “Non sia ‘friggin’ stupido”

Picture four: Do not, EVER back into the subway car whilst doing the running man.

A glimpse of Rome.

2007-03-31T11:38:00.000-07:00

When in Roma!

After fours days of a severe carbohydrate assault on my body, I return to Geneva from Rome. I was fortunate to be able to go with my good friends Nicki, Melissa, Caroline, Megan, and Dave.
Rome is incredible, it’s like stepping into a time machine not only because of the historical monuments and ruins, but because Italy very much seems to run on a time zone of it’s very own. We almost missed the scheduled bus back to the airport yesterday because we sat for lunch in a beautiful restaurant where there is a GIANT clock on the wall that was 40 minutes slow. So my last memories of Rome are sprinting through the street dodging Gypsies and tripod salesmen. Megan at one point turns around and poignantly addressed “You guys realize we’re running on the assumption that the BUS is going to be on time….” Which it wasn’t. We made it. Crisis averted.
We made the most of the 4 days and saw The Vatican, St. Paul’s, The Sistene Chapel, the Collosseum, Palitine Hill, Capital Hill, The Jewish Ghetto, The Mouth of Truth, Circus Maximus, The Pantheon, Piazza di Spagna (Spanish Steps), Trevi Fountain, The Roman Forum, and the Cemetery of the Capuchins.
You know the phrase "Rome wasn't built in a day"? well that's a terrible cliche and I hope you never actually use it in real life. Rome clearly can't be explained in one blog post. As always if you want the unadulterated “Natalie experience” I’d happily explain it in person, over coffee, with extravagant hand gestures. Here are a few stories:

Americans are funny:
While taking this picture at the Spanish Steps amidst throngs of people, I was approached by two young American girls.
American Girl: “Would you mind taking our picture?”
Natalie: “Of course not! Now would you like just the steps in the background or would you like me to get the church in there two?”
America Girl: “Huh? Oh… I meant in front of Christian Dior” (Girl points across the street).
Natalie: “Hahahahaha! Oh. Oh my goodness. You’re serious. I-I- I’m so sorry- this is awkward. Smile! *click*”

We stayed in a great little hostel which featured a free pasta party every weeknight. The girls (Nicki, Caroline, Melissa, Megan and I) stayed in a 6 person bed and the 6th bed was occupied by Gary. Gary is an Australian traveling artist who spends his days creating magnificent paintings on the streets of Rome and spends his night drinking magnificent beer on the streets of Rome. Despite the initial creepy factor of sleeping 6 feet from a stranger Gary turned out to be a really nice guy who even took us around the city and showed us how to get to the view where this picture was taken overlooking the Roman Forum. ***One morning in my quest to get the first (hottest) shower I had set my alarm the night before and for some reason put the clock about half a foot farther than I should have. The alarm went off and I didn’t want to wake anyone so I lunged at the alarm and completely fell off the bed, blankets and all. I stayed down there for a second hoping that no one saw me and heard a low Aussie accent:
“I give that a 7.4”
“Shut up Gary”.

I like Rome.

Rome.

2007-03-31T11:29:00.002-07:00

Coco Loco Invitation

2007-02-06T05:58:00.000-08:00

The Ballad of the Teflon High Dive

2007-01-20T04:55:00.000-08:00

This story shall be called:

The Ballad of the Teflon High Dive

My one and only frying pan is lying on the roof of the building below me. Right before the Christmas holidays I was sugar-roasting almonds to put into a chocolate bark for the office Christmas party. As per the rule of thumb for all appliances in Chateau Shoebox nothing quite works how one would expect it too. The “melting box” (Oven) will produce a deliciously warm pizza in about 50 minutes of cooking it on high (think: what pizza would look like if you simply microwaved it into submission). The refrigerator will freeze fruit that is on the middle shelf, but rot fruit in the crispers. And the actual microwave will explode a mug of milk in 15 seconds flat.
Now the stove top part of the oven is what I would like to call “Temperature wildcard”; sometimes if you put it on “5” it’s hotter than the sun, and sometimes if you put it on “5” you could sit a baby on it.
This particular almond experiment fell under the former category and smoke was filling up in my kitchen. I wisely dumped the almonds into the colander and held the pan out the window. My arm got tired, or I got bored and so I rested the pan on my rather large window sill and went in the living room to continue wrapping presents. 20 minutes and 4 beautiful chartreuse and fuchsia wrapped gifts later I walk back in the kitchen, immediately realize its STINKIN’ cold, spin around and roundhouse kick the window shut.
At that moment, time stands still as I realize, while fully committed to the roundhouse that my pan is still sitting on the sill. Like a movie climax I run to the window to watch the pan soar 6 floors down and land nicely on the roof of the Chinese Food restaurant below.

The almond bark still turned out fantastically though.

I have briefly considered going to the Chinese restaurant and asking if somehow I could retrieve the pan from there roof, but I’m pretty sure that with my limited French and Chinese, trying to get the message “I kicked my pan and it fell on your roof” across would probably be in vain.
Fortunately for me however, I shared this pathetic tome with my family over the holidays and you know what happened? 5 beautiful frying pans appeared in my bedroom!! Aunt Cizzy, Uncle Slim, Ret and Chance were so totally amazing and got me all new pans!!! I love you guys SO MUCH!

Moral of this story is this:

Almonds burn easily.

***I love my family so much and they care about me a lot and that makes me smile and look forward to seeing them again soon!

Happy Birthday EMILY

2007-01-12T05:04:00.000-08:00

There are somethings in this world that I tolerate.
Such as: music by John Mayer, Green Tea, and the occasional Leafs game.

There are somethings in this world that I like.
Such as: brightly coloured post-it notes, the trashy Brit-soap ‘East Enders’, and doing handstand push-ups.

And there are somethings in this world that I love.
Such as: My family, Emily Ahlgren, and Swiss Chalet dipping sauce.

But since Emily is a part of my family and today it is January 12th, the day of birth of the original Pineapple Vixen, let’s compare which out ranks the other in the list of THINGS NATALIE LOVES in a game I’d like to call:

Swiss Chalet sauce is consistently delicious no matter where you go
- 1 point
Emily Ahlgren is also consistently delicious no matter where you go
- 1 point

Emily Ahlgren is beautiful on this inside and out
- 1 point
Swiss Chalet sauce is like rust coloured jelly
- 0 points

Swiss Chalet sauce is not in Switzerland
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is also not in Switzerland
- 0 points

Emily Ahlgren is brilliant and hilariously funny
- 1 point
Swiss Chalet sauce does not speak
- 0 points

Swiss Chalet sauce gets cold too fast
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is always hot
- 1 points

Swiss Chalet sauce comes in a small container and runs out quickly
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is packaged nicely and is always there for me
- 1 point

Swiss Chalet sauce is only 35 calories
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is no calories
- 1 point

*****6 to 1. Looks like it has been scientifically proven that I love Emily Ahlgren EVEN more than I love Swiss Chalet sauce and that is a lot of love.

Happy 24th you hot thing.

Christmas Market in Montreux!

2006-12-04T10:43:00.000-08:00

Meester Sweese....

2006-11-19T09:38:00.000-08:00

Nat: Who’s that guy over there signing autographs?
Nadia: I don’t know.
Nat: He was doing a t.v. interview earlier. Maybe he’s famous.
Nadia: He is, how you say, good looking.
Nat: Yeah in English we say “Hunky” you should use that word. It’s appropriate and not in the least out of date.
Nadia: He is hunky.
Nat: Perfect. Maybe we should get our picture with him.
Nadia: YES! ***Turns out this is “Mr. Swiss”. Or as Nadia pronounces it “Meester Sweese”.
http://www.misterschweiz.ch/
Hahahahahahahahaha.......

Journey into the madness of my mind

2006-11-19T01:59:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I almost went insane.

It started like any normal Saturday. I got it in my head that I wanted to make 80 homemade perogies for the YAGs poker night and for “Interns Thanksgiving: the American sequel”. I even remarkably found cheddar cheese (it’s white…. Not orange here and you have to ask for it over the counter like it’s an overdoseable drug).
Overdose I didn’t but the trickier part was finding bacon. Somewhere along the long line of perogy makers in my family, the addition of tossing bacon pieces on top of the cooked perogies became a vital step. So I’m searching around Manor (giant grocery store below a giant department store) and I finally find something that in my mind resembles bacon.
By 2:00pm the perogy factory that was my kitchen was fully committed. I am (brace yourself for a cliché) covered in flour and I can hear my mom’s voice in my head “Stop eating the filling!”
I am rounding the corner of completion and slicing up my bacon substitute and I was a little confused at why it was so hard to slice. I look at the package and realize, “I never even checked if this was ham.”
Suddenly my mind explodes and like a blurry montage/dream sequence from a movie I see the word “Chevallier” on the package. “Chevallier??? Doesn’t that mean horse?! Or is it cheveux? Or is that hair?” I just remember in grade 7 Madame Bowman laughed at me when I said that ‘my horse is long and blonde’ but I never figured out which one I used wrongly. I scream aloud. This was a little more expensive then usual and you can totally buy horse meat everywhere here! I scan the package for something ham-like and all I see is a pasture and a slice of meat. Panicking I see the term “Jambon de Bayonne” and I KNOW that Jambon is ham because I order jambon sandwiches all the time! But! A terrifying thought crosses my mind, what if Jambon de Bayonne is like a “Chicken of the sea” tuna scenario and it stands for “Ham of the pasture!” or “Ham of the racetracks!”

I CAN’T FEED MY FRIENDS HORSE MEAT! What’s more, I CAN’T HAVE JUST STUCK A PILE OF HORSE MEAT IN MY MOUTH BEFORE THIS EPISODE BEGAN!

As frightening images of Toby McGuire in Seabiscuit fly through my head I blast to my laptop and start typing in every word on the package: Grand Affineur, A sauveterre de bearn, Chevallier NOTHING!……. Finally, in size 5 font at the bottom I see “Ingredients: Jambon de porc, sel des Saline”. Porc. Porc. PORK. PIG! NOT HORSE! VICTORY!

I have since learned that Bayonne is the region that the meat comes from. You can learn more about the product that caused me seven minutes of agonizing pain and heart-racing terror here: http://www.jambon-de-bayonne.com/boutique/en/pages/histoire.htm

Oh, and I'm signing up for french lessons this week.

Dublin! More like "FUN- blin"...... Natalie don't make puns.

2006-11-16T12:59:00.000-08:00

Dublin!

2006-11-16T12:00:00.000-08:00

The grass is always greener….. but seriously, in Dublin it’s actually greener, I think they may use chemicals.

My friend Aaron and I went to Dublin for 4 days. I like Ireland. I like the fact that the Irish, like me, enjoy the colour green and have short tempers. I like the way Irish children are completely incomprehensible, the way that people say “Emmm” instead of “Ummm” and the way that there are so many moments where someone would say something to me and I thought it was another language:

"Wug je lie yer lat far her er ta gooo?"

I just stare back like an idiot as my brain churns then finally realize after about 10 seconds that it was English and the leprechaun was just asking me if I'd like my latte to go....

Traveling with another designer is fun plus many moments of “Oh my goodness, is that Comic Sans on that bus?” “It totally is!!! What were they thinking??”

We managed to mix “culture” and “fun”. Some highlights included:

1. Took a bus tour through Wicklow country and beyond and got to see where Braveheart was filmed and drink whiskey on a cliff over looking the Guinness master’s property! (The wind was INSANE and our tour guide told us that the day before, some women was blown off a similar cliff 700 feet to her death so whatever you do “Doon oopen yer u’brella”)
2. Drank my first pint of Guinness on the roof of the Guinness factory with a 360 degree view of Dublin.
3. Enjoyed all that Temple Bar had to offer (AMAZING district FILLED with art and music and fantastic food).
4. Saw my brother play rugby with the Canada team and they all played SO well!!!!! GO NUMBER 6!!! “Did your brother just start a fight with that guy” “That guy totally deserved it.”
5. Saw the homes of Bono, Enya, and Val Halen. (Do you suppose they have potlucks?)
6. Toured ancient graves and an old monastery. (So beautiful)
7. We saw an Irish play (called “This is not a life”)
8. Saw Borat (which was disappointing……. Pause…… NOT!).

Pictures coming soon. Note: Susan I found a pub called Bodkins!

Halloween

2006-10-30T11:02:00.000-08:00

Halloween is a time to get creative. With limited resources and a politically charged atmosphere I decided to go as something frightening and relevant: North Korea. You can't see it well, but Kim-Jong Il is on there, along with massive amounts of plutonium, Kofi Annan holding UN sanctions, Nuclear warning signs, communist flag, and arrows pointing to China and the Sea of Japan, but not to South Korea, because that would pretty much give away my costume completely. I went to "Intern Halloween" which I intend on posting some photos once I scrounge some up! Aaron went as a Swiss 20 dollar bill, Dave was some guy from Sin City who looked like a scary Charlie Brown, Mike was an Office Zombie (that one hit close to home), Nadia was the devil, Melissa was a witch, Caroline was the Corpse Bride, Nikki was a Sexy Leopard ("Are you like a dog bunny?" -Dave), Meg was Micheal Jackson circa: Thriller, Yaron and Elena were a photographer and Yoko Ono, and Farhad was an egg.
It was a fun night!

Weird

2006-10-27T14:43:00.000-07:00

Today I saw myself on the bus. Okay well not exactly. I saw a woman who looked EXACTLY like me only she was about 65. It was surreal. Same body shape and build as me (with only a few gravity related differences), same hair (only completely white), same shade of lipstick (Yves Rocher’s ‘Sugar Sass’), and same “Trendy without being offensive” sense of style.
We caught eyes and it was so…. familiar. We even both rolled our eyes at each other when a girl came on the bus wearing hot pants and elf shoes and I may be dreaming this, but I’m quite sure I also heard a muffled nose gaffaw come from her too. I am KNOWN for my muffled nose gaffaws!
It was like looking in a mirror; a crazy time machine mirror.
When my elderly doppelganger was getting off the bus, she looked at me and smiled as if to say “Hang in there, you’ll age nicely” OR as if to say “I have a daughter who looks just like you who dances at the Moulin Rouge”……

I guess we’ll never know.

My identical twin is a stripper......

2006-10-16T01:58:00.000-07:00

C= Older female employee who works in the same building as me.

C: Natalie, I have to tell you something. I saw you on Saturday night dancing.
Me: Huh?
C: Well I thought it was you. I was out with some friends at a club and I saw this girl dancing really suggestively and she looked just like you. Same height, same build. I was actually really disturbed! But then I bumped into her and she started speaking French and well, we all know you don’t speak French…!
Me: That’s weird, so what club was it?
C: Uh…. Well. The Moulin Rouge.
Me: The trashy strip club?
C: Yes, I was there celebrating a birthday with some friends, they wanted to go there.
Me: So, the ONLY reason that you knew it wasn’t me was because she spoke French… It had nothing to do with the fact that I’m not exactly the kind of person who would dance at a strip club….???
C: Well…. She looks a lot like you. What you do on the weekend is none of my busi-
Me: I don’t dance at strip clubs!
C: Well your identical twin does!
Me: I’m going back to my office now……

***Backs away slowly

Second trip to Gruyere!

2006-10-15T12:20:00.000-07:00

Get Your Own! | View Slideshow

Independent woman

2006-10-13T15:02:00.000-07:00

Today I dropped a spoon in my toilet.

You may be wondering what I was doing with cutlery in the bathroom. If any of my old housemates read this they’ll probably bring up the “washroom popcorn incident”… Honestly, you track ONE piece of popcorn into the bathroom on your sock and for months you get accused of eating food where no food should ever be eaten…..

But it’s not like that. It’s quite simple really. My kitchen sink is clogged. Very clogged. I’ve tried boiling water, chemicals, plunging, wire coat hanger, crazy aluminum snake, I even went all “old school plumber” and unscrewed all of the pipes under my sink and cleaned them out. Grossest thing in my life but you know why? It’s because Beyonce Knowles inspired me to be an independent woman, fix my OWN sink, buy my OWN rings—

NO! It’s because it’s too expensive to get a plumber here! I bet Beyonce Knowles has never dry heaved after scrapping an indistinguishable lumpy something from 40 year old sink pipes. I bet Beyonce has never had to use a giant Tupperware bowl as a sink and when the bowl gets heavy has to take the bowl to the toilet and dump the bowl but didn’t see that there was a spoon in the bottom of the soapy bowl but heard a “clink” when she dumped the bowl in the toilet and then had to reach in the toilet and GET the spoon because the LAST thing she wants is for the TOILET to clog because THEN where would she dump the soapy kitchen water?????

I DON'T WANT TO BE AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN BEYONCE!

I just want water to drain properly from my kitchen sink!!

In conclusion, today I dropped a spoon in my toilet.

Write a song about THAT Beyonce.

To DO LIST

2006-10-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

To do list:

1. Stop selecting “Swaziland” instead of “Switzerland” when using drop down country menus.

2. Learn French phrases for “Don’t touch me!” and “Can I pet your dog?” (and not mix them up in the heat of the moment)

3. Quit watching “Shake Ton Booty” on French MTV

4. Shut blinds, THEN undress

5. Undress, THEN get in shower (I’m not a morning person)

6. Stop buying and/or stop eating delicious tasting lip gloss

7. Rename office cat from “Sugar Baby Kissy Boots Officer Cuddle Napkin the Fourth” to something shorter and more comfortable for everyone in the office to say.

8. Update my blog consistently.

Nat and Bev do Paris!

2006-10-02T11:56:00.000-07:00

2006-09-15T04:30:00.000-07:00

Weapon of Choice

2006-08-31T06:08:00.000-07:00

"People ask me all the time 'So what does your sister DO in Switzerland?' and I usually respond with 'She fights AIDS with with graphic design- GEEZ get off my back already.'
...... People always ask nonchalantly and I retort really seriously with that answer like as if you're an X-man for AIDS and your weapon is graphic design."

-Shayla 2006

Cheese and Aliens

2006-08-28T04:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to Gruyere with Jean and Carmen and we had a lovely day of cheese, aliens, castles, cows, slugs, and every stereotypical "Swiss" thing that you can think of. More to come later.....

Sunday in Gruyere!

2006-08-28T04:08:00.000-07:00

Caleb

2006-08-23T10:51:00.000-07:00

Caleb has Shayla's handwriting! This child melts my cold cold heart.

Picture of the day

2006-08-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

Out my window....

2006-08-20T10:11:00.000-07:00

Carrouge, and a beautiful church

2006-08-19T09:48:00.000-07:00

Picture Time

2006-08-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

All of this is within five minutes of my house...... And by 'house' I mean 'flat'... and by 'flat' I mean 'shoebox with a bed'

Funny Email from My Dad

2006-08-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

Hey Nooo,
I was looking at the blog site and it crossed my mind that Homer Simpson probably named the Italian train system. Remember: “Luke! You can’t name him Luke! The kids will call him Puke! Now ‘Bart’… let me see… Aart, Bart, Cart, Dart, Eart. Now that works”.

So I’m imaging a bunch of Italian guys.
“So, wotta we gonna calla the train?”
“How aboutta Italian Train System?”
“Whatta you nuts or something? Da kids’ll call it Pitalian Pain Pystem.”
“How aboutta Trenitalia?”
“Letta me think aboutta that. Hmmm. Aenitalia, Benitalia, Cenitalia, Denitalia, Eenitalia, Fenitalia. Thatsa gooda name! We gonna call it Trenitalia and I don’ta wanna here no arguing, you get what I’ma saying???”

And the rest is history!

Stories from Italy

2006-08-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

A few blogs ago, I promised a few stories from my trip to Italy. I will not disappoint. First up:
How Carmen sprained her ankle. By Natalie
Upon arriving back at our hostel, on the last night we realized that power had been lost on the entire block. It was pitch black in the hostel and we had to get to our room on the second floor. We successfully navigated but Courtney, Carmen and I decided it would be in our best interest to take a bottle of wine to the beach and drink out of plastic cups like we were distinguished socialites on vacation. So we head out of our dark room into the more dark hallway. Down the corridor, I’m leading the pack (still unclear how I got that job). I pull open the door to the stairs and there is a man standing there with his cell phone light flashing in my face. I yelp, Carmen screams and 5 seconds later Courtney reacts. We nervously laugh for a moment, but then actually laugh because the man seems nice and it was funny that Courtney has such a startlingly slow reaction time. The man holds his light for us as we go down the stairs and all of a sudden Carmen makes a noise like she’s about to laugh and then tumbles down the stairs.
Nat: “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”
Carmen: “Ow”
Nat: “We need ice”
Courtney: “There’s no ice in Italy! We’ll have to get Gelato”
Nat: “But Carmen will eat it!”
Courtney: “Good point. Carmen, how did you fall? Did you trip?”
Carmen: “I just lost focus because I was thinking about how funny it would be, since we’re in an old hospital and all, that when Natalie opened the door, and saw that guy, she should have yelled ‘DIE ZOMBIE DIE’!!!!!....... And I thought that was really funny. And I was laughing in my head so hard that I fell.”
Only slightly paraphrased conversation.
We still went to the water…. But we drank wine on a bench and it’s like 3 weeks later and Carmen is still limping. Moral of the story, always yell “Die Zombie Die!”……

Story #2: Would would buy this?

And.... do YOU notice anything funny about this sign? The Train system is called "Trenitalia".

Knowing Me, Knowing You AHA!

2006-08-15T02:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes in life, you need to make your own party.

The weather was pretty crappy this weekend for “The Fireworks”. I use that term in quotations because it’s a big deal in Geneva. People set up hours ahead of time to get good seats by the lake, or you can pay 36 Swiss Francs for a chair.
I really like fireworks, especially the ones that look like diamonds sparkling but for some reason, watching them this week I was unsettled by the fact that millions of dollars are spent to light up the night sky like Southern Lebanon, only it’s set to Celtic music and we all go back to our homes safely afterwards.
They were the biggest fireworks I’ve ever seen.

It was still crumby outside and Mike, Carmen and I were waiting for the Circus Girls to arrive at Secheron. The traffic was insane, so we waited for a little while and then decided to get the party started, in the parking lot of the gas station. It was like a tailgate party, only sans tailgate and with Diesel fuel pumps instead! I brought wicked hot chocolate and Carmen brought fruit (nectarines are apparently the illegitimate love child of a peach and a plum…. Did you know that?)….. People were starring at us like we were insane, especially when I pulled the whip cream out of my bag. But we just chalked it up to a secret “Canadian Tradition”.
Captions generously provided by Carmen.
And it was delicious.
Another great thing that happened that night was the discovery that not all British Comedy shows are stupid. I like “Keeping Up Appearances” (My name is Bookay! B-U-C-K-E-T) and “Kiss Me Kate” is bearable, and “The Office” is phenomenal! And the same night as the party, we watched “Knowing me, Knowing You- With Alan Partridge”. VERY FUNNY. It gets the “Natalie Stamp of Approval”... Which looks a little something like this:

"Knowing me Alan Patridge, Knowing you 'insert name here' AHA! AHA!"

Goodbye.

VIVA ITALIA!

2006-08-06T10:31:00.000-07:00

Interns do ITALY!

Courtney, Nikki, Nadia, Carrene, Natalie, Carmen spend four days in Levanto Italy.

Bonjourno!

Okay, I know I haven't been posting enough. But you see, I'm not going to have internet at my apartment for another 12 days........
So all updates are essentially done at work, and not that I can't justify blogging during work hours it's just that....... well I can't.
BUT
Last weekend, I went to Italy. Cinque Terre to be exact. I went with Nadia, Nikki, Natalie (me), Carmen, Carrene, and Courtney (yes, you couldn't come on the trip unless your name started with N or C).....
We took a train from Geneva to Milano, and then from Milano to Levento (which is where our hostel was). The hostel was beautiful, nothing like I imagined (What I imagined: small, foggy, hot room with rubber mats on the floor, and a small square window with bars, and a single toilet in the middle.... okay, I IMAGINED a prison cell).... But this was very nice!!! HUge room with 3 bunk beds and two giant closets and a bathroom with a shower and a toilet and a beday (I don't think anyone used that though)....
We explored the 5 cities and I'll put up some of my favorite pics below... You get to each city by train and it's just totally magical. To learn more about Cinque Terre go here: http://homepage.sunrise.ch/homepage/avong/cinque_terre/

My favorite city was Manarola. Mostly because I took this picture.... It was so colourful.

I really enjoyed walking everywhere and trying not to look like a stupid tourist but still looking like a stupid tourist, "Oh wow!! Look at that!! Isn't that CUTE?? There's a cat sleeping in that pot! Oh gosh, get the camera! Look, there's some GELATO! Who wants Gelato? Let's get a picture eatinv Gelato here. SIr? Scuzi! Scuzi!! Will you taka a pictura ofa me and my friends eating GELATO!!!!?????" (Slightly paraphrased).....

Okay, that's all I have time for today, but I'll post more on Italy and keep an eye out for the following features... "How Carman Sprained her Ankle..." "Who would buy a shirt that says 'Sex Bomb?" and "Riding the Trenatalia".

P.C. is my middle name.........

2006-07-20T07:19:00.000-07:00

Comment of the day. Said by Chris:

"Natalie, in this office we prefer the P.C. terms. So it would be great if you could in the future avoid saying things like 'I set my browser font to retard size'."

Baby Bear

2006-07-18T06:10:00.000-07:00

I got this email from my sister:

Someone's been sleeping in YOUR bed Goldilocks:
This is my newest cousin Caleb. I love how they barricade him with pillows. If he was in Switzerland, there would be no barricades.... There would probably be a gate of spikes and perhaps a rabid tiger sleeping beside him and the blanket would be made of raw chicken. (See appendix below on the low safety standards of Switzerland)

Natalie Does Jet D'eau

2006-07-17T06:28:00.000-07:00

So Saturday morning I made a two item task list.
Buy Tweezers.
Get as close to Jet D’eau as possible.
I’m happy to report I did both.
The “Jet” is a fountain in Geneva that kind of got there by accident. I guess originally, a fountain was set up as a necessity to relieve excess water pressure while a reservoir system was being installed. But everyone liked it so much that it was made a permanent fixture. I actually saw it in the airplane as we were landing in Geneva and it’s right across the lake from where I live so I set out in that direction. 20 minutes and a 4 dollar bottle of water later I was there (*beer was the same price as water…). There’s this meter and a half “bridge” that takes you out to the jet, but in true Geneva style (See Appendix), there is no fence… or anything ensuring that people don’t fall off. I went out there when it was totally packed with tourists and this idiot in front of me was pushing a stroller (seriously unsafe). However, once you get to the jet, there is a spiked fence stopping people from going right up to the jet that is throwing 500 liters per second 140 feet into the air at a speed of 200 km/hour.

Appendix: There is a startling lack of safety systems here. Maybe I’m just too Canadian and I’m used to a lot of safety rules like helmets, seatbelts, and sunscreen. But here, children are out on their bikes without helmets and the other day as I was waiting for the tram I see this woman careening at an impressive speed down my street (which is a hill that ends in a busy intersection) on a manual scooter and I think “Oh wow, looks like she’s taking one of those “My Buddy” dolls to work with her…. No, no wait. That’s not a “My Buddy” doll, that’s a child holding on to the back of her legs without any form of protection.
You can buy alcohol everywhere… Our work cafeteria, vending machines, corner stores and it pretty much operates on the honor system (I think the drinking age is 16). On that note, there are no restrictions on where you smoke or drink. I remember in the airport in Toronto every other P.A. announcement was reminding people that there is no where to smoke in the building whatsoever. As soon as I landed in Amsterdam every other announcement was pretty much “Just a reminder that you can only smoke in the designated smoking areas, as well as restaurants, bars, cafes, any place with a table- actually we’ll tell you what, light up wherever you’d like and if it’s in a wrong spot we’ll let you finish the cigarette and then tell you of a better place to smoke your next one.”
Same goes with drinking. Drinking a bottle of wine in a public part here is not just for hobos (actually, there are no hobos here either… it’s too expensive to be homeless here).
All that to say, it’s a very safe place here but I still don’t do anything stupid like swimming in the lake by myself at midnight or taking rides from strangers. Actually I was teased a bit because the first few days here, I insisted that I had to be inside my flat by 10:00pm because I was nervous… See folks that’s what 4 years in Hammertown will do to you.

Entry number one

2006-06-22T20:34:00.000-07:00

Hello! Bonjour!

Here's my first entry on The Natterhorn. I have successfully made it to Geneva. The flight over was long and I had a 3 hour layover in Amsterdam. I tried to sleep but it wasn’t very successful despite trying to BORE myself to sleep by watching the in flight movie (16 Blocks starring Bruce Willis and his fake mustache)...... I was greeted at the airport with a "Welcome to Geneva Mr. Bono" sign which made me laugh quite hard… And people were looking presumably wondering “Bono’s coming?”….. No, just Natalie.
So I started work first thing Monday morning. It’s Friday as I’m writing this and I think my body is finally getting used to the new time zone.
My “Flat” is small but I’ll make it work. My television’s only new source is the BBC which is pleasant, indeed. Work is going well; I like the people that are here!! Everyone is being kind and helping me find my way around. I actually take a tram to the United Nations each morning and catch a bus from there to work! Everything here is a little different, in one way or another, but many things are still the same. I still fear getting hit by a car, now I have just amended that to a fear of being hit by a motorbike or a tram as well.

Things I have noticed so far:
1. People say “Toilet” instead of “Washroom” or “restroom”. I realize this is also a primarily British thing but it’s thrown me off none the less…. In my family, saying “I’m going to the toilet” is essentially the equivalent of saying “I’ve gotta take a wiz”. Both of which would get an unapproving tisk from my momma.
2. Many women don’t wear bras. Not sure what this is all about, but I’ve labeled this phenomenon “Bra-ptional”. I do not plan on ever “culturally immersing” myself in this way.
3. In Geneva, Che Guevara has his own line of school and home office accessories. I might splurge on the revolutionary pencil case because I think the binder would be a little intrusive.
4.I really want to improve my French. So I thought the best way would be to start watching subtitled English television. But I’m very limited in my selection. But I’m proud to say that I know how to say “That’s so ghetto”, “I gotta job!”, and “You in the tube top, you gotta git yerself a betta weave” in French thanks to a subtitled episode of Jerry Springer.

That’s all for now, I don’t have internet access at my flat yet, but once I do, my updates will be far more interesting and I’ll put up some pictures…… Because everyone loves a picture.

Miss you…