They lost my suitcase and I need a cigarette.

My mom came to see me. My dad surprised her with a plane ticket, and I think it felt as much a mean trick as it did a gift for her. She made it though.

I met her in Geneva. I figured - a completely foreign environment plus more than 13 hours without nicotine and she'd need someone to greet her and get her to Our Chalet. So as I stood at the arrival gate, I spotted her and walked up to her. First thing out of her mouth was "They lost my suitcase and I need a cigarette."

Shit.

So we talked to the guy about what to do and he said to give him the address to Our Chalet and they'll deliver the luggage there by that night or the next morning. I figured it was a blessing. We wouldn't have to lug the thing around on our journey to Adelboden. I should have known that it was a sign for the type of trip this was going to be for my mom.

We stop in Bern on our way to the Chalet. I wanted mom to see the capital and I wanted to see the large clock tower with the puppet show every hour and the baby eating ogre fountain. And we both wanted to see Einstein's apartment. When we got off the train, we were greeted by large amounts of self important Swiss people on a mission to make life difficult for us. It was a Saturday and EVERYONE was out. So we were a bit flustered, but determined to tick the sights off our list. We headed to the tower.

We got there on the hour and nothing happened. Well the clock chimed, but the figures didn't move. Then out of no where, the man's arm moves. Mom missed it, but the people behind us started clapping and laughing. Thirty seconds later the chicken clucked and moved it's left wing. Mom missed it, but the people behind us started clapping and laughing. Thirty seconds later the chicken clucked and moved it's left wing again. Mom missed it, but the people behind us started clapping and laughing.

Disappointment?

Yes, but we were still good natured. After all, it was comical that mom missed the whole thing.

Then on to the Einstein house, which was small but good to say I've been. And then we thought we'd have a crepe before boarding the train. Sidsel and I had excellent crepes at the market area and I figured it would be a good place to go. Little did I know everybody and their brother was going to be at that market and the nice crepe lady didn't bother to show up. Probably because she had the good sense to stay out of the crowds.

We hit up the ogre fountain, which is quite good. But not necessarily worth fighting the crowds. Although, I do have to say there's something about a culture that has a man with a baby ass sticking out of his mouth in the city square that I like.

Then we just headed to the train. While at the station, we stopped in a take away and got one kick ass ham sandwich. So all was well.

We arrived at the Chalet, tired, but good and safe.

The luggage didn't come that night or the next morning.

But we were still raring to go. We took the morning easy. And then headed up to Tschenten for brunch. I wanted my mom to top at least one mountain, and luckily Tschenten's gondola opened this past weekend for an end of the season brunch.

It was an absolutely beautiful day. (Mom took all the pictures so they're on her camera) And the brunch was AMAZING. There was all this cheese and rosti and eggs and jams and drinks and sausage and ... oh man. Life was good at the end of that meal. And then we just hung out on top of Tscenten out in the sun just chatting and enjoying the view. We eventually meandered back to the gondola and down to Adelboden to look in what shops were open, seeing as how it was Sunday and they like to stay at home on that day.

And then we returned to the Chalet via taxi and hung out until time to prepare dinner. I wanted cheeseburgers. And I wanted them off the grill. And I got them.

I volunteered to cook so with the other volunteers' help and Mom and Kat's expert advice (they like to make sure everyone knows the right way to do it) we had an excellent supper. And topped it off with Moon Pies (thanks Jessie!) for dessert. A good American meal, and a check off my staff challenge list.

But still no suitcase.

But we were too blissful to mind too much. And the next day was St. Gallen. I asked my mom way back what she wanted to see when she got here. Lace. She wants some lace to add to baby clothes. So I found the "embroidery and lace capital of Europe" - St. Gallen. And that's where we headed Monday.

We had to leave really early because it would take 4 hours to get there and I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to look around. We were going to take the 7:56 bus. We were going to...but didn't. We missed it. We watched it drive by without us. So we waited on the next one. The 8:56 bus.

We planned to make a pit stop in Bern since we knew where a department store was. The suitcase was still MIA and Mom needed clothes. Her outfit was lovely, but frankly, I was tired of seeing it and she was tired of wearing it. We stopped in Bern and didn't find a damn thing. But no big deal. One coffee and kick ass ham sandwich later, we were back on the train and headed to the land of lace.

We arrived in St. Gallen and headed straight to the tourist office. I had a list of stores and needed a map to find them.

Map, check!
Located store 1, no longer exists.
Located store 2, no longer exists.
Located store 3, no longer exists.

So back to the tourist office. The only place with lace that's open on Monday was on the outskirts of town.

Boarded bus.
Found the store.
Dropped jaw.

The fabric and lace in this place was made for the runway. There were bolts in there that were 850 francs a meter!

Found the clearance rack.
Got out the plastic.
Boarded bus.

So let me get this right. The embroidery and lace capital of Europe has not one store in the city amongst the "best shopping in East Switzerland" that sells said lace and embrodery. It's all exported. What the hell!?!

Well, no big deal. We had a wonderful supper full of cheese and sausage and rosti. Comfort food and it was well deserved. And we started the journey back to the Chalet.

Everything was smooth until we hit Bern and realized that we were going to be later back than we thought. And I wasn't sure when the last bus was going to run from Frutigen to Adelboden. But nothing to do but cross that bridge when we get there.

So we got to the bridge.

And there was a bus. And perfect, we'd get to Adelboden and call a taxi. We missed our stop in the valley and rode up to Adelboden, but that was ok because we'd just get a taxi from there. See, the Chalet is up this really steep hill, and my mom was determined not to walk up it. And honestly, I was glad she did. It's a tough hill to climb.

So we call for a taxi (mind you this is about midnight by the time we got to Adelboden).
"Hello, can I get a taxi from the post office to Our Chalet?"
"No."
"Pardon."
"Something in Swiss German"
"Are you closed?"
"Yes, good night."
click

Shit.

So after a terrible string of unsuccessful phone calls trying to get someone to come pick us up, we started our trek down and up the hills. Because, of course, we missed our stop and ended up on the Adelboden side of the valley, so we had to go down to go up.

It sucked.

I thought my mom was going to die.

But she didn't, and we made it, and slept a long time.

The next day had to be low key. And it was. We slept in, hung out and had lunch, and then Mom, Anne Sophie, and I went to Adelboden. We were lucky to have Kat drive us there. She had to make a grocery run and it was better than walking down the hill and then catching the bus. On the way there, it started to snow.

It was beautiful and we got lots of shopping done. And we got the damn lace. At a store in Adelboden. Right across the valley from Our Chalet. Not 4 hours in the lace capital of Europe. What a crock!

And we had cake and coffee and watched it snow. And it was good.

We returned to get the news that they had found Mom's suitcase and that it would be there that evening.

And then they called before supper and said that they weren't bringing it because it was too far. JERKS!

For supper, we had a monster meal. Kat's decided instead of just celebrating Halloween one night, we'd celebrate it the entire week. So each meal has a different theme. Monsters was the theme for Tuesday. So we all dressed up and enjoyed a hearty meal of Swiss steak. It was a good time. We had quite a bit of giggling. It was an excellent way to top off Mom's visit and send her with a good memory back to the US.

The next morning, it was still snowing. I rode with Mom to Frutigen to see her on her train to head back to Geneva's airport. I couldn't help but feel like this experience and all that went wrong would cause her to never want to go abroad again. But then again, it wouldn't be a visit with me if things didn't go wrong. It's my style. And now that I remember all we did, the mishaps are comical and the good stuff, well it's really good stuff. She'll leave the US again.

What I've Been Up To

There's been quite a few things that have happened that aren't worth words or are just better in pictures. So here's a pictorial. Enjoy!!

Sidsel and I biked to Frutigen to complete another challenge. It was fun going downhill.

We had some British guests who showed us a game involving winter gear, a die, and a plate of chocolate. It was good fun.

I planned a slumber party for the "plan an evening progam for the staff" requirement of the challenge. We played twister and truth or dare, had lots of sugar, had a dance party and a pillow fight, and then slept in the cupboard in the attic of main chalet. All in all a successful evening.


One day Sarah asked Sidsel and I to photograph our guests, the cows. So we hung out with them for a while.

We've also had quite a few themed meals. Occasionally, Kat will want to do something fun to entertain herself. So we have had a princess and the pea dinner, a fiesta, and a moustache meal, among others. I find that Kat and I come up with some pretty wacked out dinners when we're in the kitchen together.

And of course, I'm at a scout center, so we've had campfires.

My First Solo Hike

On my second day off, I decided I wanted to go back to the top of Silleren and ride the scooter down. The gondola and scooter renting would close down that day, so I had to go I was going to fulfill my wishes.

So I set off. I grabbed a program cell phone in case I needed it and headed out. I had been on the trail before, no need to worry.

I had to get to the adventure park and then from there to the gondola station. Take the gondola up, have a snack in the restaurant, and rent a scooter to come down on. No worries.

It was a beautiful day, and I was really enjoying the time on my own. Being able to move at my own pace.

I reached the adventure park and kept going. I had built up my confidence because I had made it that far in the right amount of time, 1hr, with no problem.

I continued on following the path by the river, and eventually, I came to this very steep hill. As I tredged my way up it, I realized that the last time I had come up this hill, I was saying words that would make my grandma blush because I was absolutely miserable. My feet hurt, my knees hurt, and I was hot and sweaty. But this time, I made it up with no problem. No cussing, my grandma would be proud, and only a little out of breath. I was very impressed with myself and feeling very good about my capabilities as an independent hiker.

Well, I was. But then I reached a sign that did not have my destination on it. No matter what direction I headed, I didn't see Silleren on any of them. Shit.

So I used the cell phone to call Marjolein at the reception desk. She said she knew the hill I was talking about and to just follow the river. I'd be fine.

So I did. And as I went, the trail was getting less and less familiar. But I kept battling with my brain, telling myself that last time I was just focusing on my misery and not the surroundings. And that's why I didn't recognize anything.

After a while, I walked up on this figuration of picnice tables and this little log house, and knew it was not familiar. So I called Marjolein again. She said she thought she knew the house I meant and to keep going.

So I did. And it was a beautiful day. And the river was so nice. And then I came to this lovely little restaurant that had lots of signs and maps. And I knew I was in the wrong place. I realized I was on the back side of Silleren, and no where near the gondola station or a logical way to get to it.

Turns out the river splits and I followed the wrong side.

Turns out there's a steep hill and log house on the trail I should have followed.

Turns out I should have grabbed a damn map on my way out the door.

Turns out that although my grandma'd be proud of me for not cussing as I went up that steep hill, I never went up that damn hill in the first place.

So I went in the direction of Adelboden hoping to get back to where I started and take the long gondola at the bottom of the trail to get to the gondola that would take me to Silleren before it all shut down.

After a total of three hours of walking, I got right back to where I started. It was a beautiful day, and I didn't have to hurry to keep up with anyone. So I was still in a very good mood. Just disappointed in myself.

I walked up to the gondola station and asked for a ticket to get to Silleren. But I was too late and they wouldn't sell me one because I'd never get back in time before it closed. Shit.

They tell me it was a beautiful day up on Silleren.

Yodeling Concert

I spent one of my evenings off last week attending a yodeling concert. It was a lot of fun. It was in a gymnasium, well what use to be a gymnasium. We walked in and the environment reminded me of a PTA meeting as opposed to a concert hall.

We sat down and ordered some drinks and then noticed a table at the back filled with cakes. A bake sale!! I had this apple cake, well we think it was apple. It was a little sour and a little sweet, and not like anything I've had before. It was good.

Then the concert started, and it wasn't the yodeling you'd normally think of, the fast paced yodeling we are use to hearing. It was this soft slow sound. I felt more like I was at one of my grandma's Christmas Cantatas than in the big ass Alps. And in usual Swiss fashion, there was an intermission. Long enough to pee, order another drink, and a bratwurst or two.

Then the second half began. And the novelty wore off. And we got sleepy. So we entertained ourselves by looking at pictures on our cameras and making crafts out of the trash on the table. It was still very nice to hear the choirs, but we were all tired and the singing was so soft and serene. It really felt like you were in the mountains, the way the sound filled the room.

At one point, they were telling jokes. And this man beside us tried to explain one. His translation was like this:

What is the difference between a farmer's wife and another type of farmer's wife? (I have put "another type of farmer's wife" because I didn't understand the word he used to describe her) The farmer's wife has a piercing here (points to his stomach) the other wife has a ..... a.... umm.... small beast (reaches hand into air and pulls it towards his wrist) on her.

What!?!

So after some silence and staring at our translator, we all did the courtesy laugh and moved on.

The concert began at 8pm. We left at 11pm. And we left early. As we left, everyone was visiting and ordering food and drinks as we were walking out. The Swiss know how to close a place down. But again, it was more like the crowd at a PTA meeting.

We enjoyed ourselves and I'm glad I had the experience. It's not too often you get to go to an old gymnasium, with cow bells hanging from gymnast rings hanging from the ceiling, and listen to a lot of Swiss men yodel while eating a piece of cake surrounded by Scandinavians.

Today was a Good Day

10/12/08

Today was a good day. It was filled with new, familiar, and exciting. Last night, we were invited to a housewarming of two of the senior staff members. Andrea and I spent the night there because we were offered a ride back to work in the morning, versus walking the 30 minute walk in the middle of the night back to the chalet (it was dark and we had no flashlights).

So this morning started off with a car ride which doesn't happen everyday and I occasionally miss riding in a car.

We had our morning meeting, and Andrea and I opted to continue working with Ben on stuff outside. (Yesterday, we did some leaf raking, some tree staking, and some step breaking - I have gotten damn good with a pick ax.)

So we started the morning modifying a path from the staff house to Spycher. We added large flat stones to the path so that we no longer get mud in our shoes. We get lazy about the indoor/outdoor shoe policy, and this makes it easier to cheat.

We lifted, hauled, and plopped down stones. Then dug, scraped, and clipped around roots. We got half of it done before lunch time. Which was exciting because we were going to Ham's Bistro for Brunch.

Ham's Bistro is the small restaurant about a 10 minute walk from here. It was his last operating day today for the season and he was having a brunch (at lunch time mind you) to celebrate.

We got there and were ushered around by the owner himself. He shook each of our hands (there were about 10 of us total) and then showed us the buffet, telling us there was plenty of cheese so no worries (in some English - it was more like "We have cheese. More is coming. Please have some. There is more cheese coming).

We ate outside, it was a BEAUTIFUL day. The perfect fall day when the air is cool and crisp but the sun is bright and warm.

We filled up on the cheese, there was plenty and more was coming, and bread and muesli. While eating there was this elderly Swiss man walking around singing. He'd just approach the table and start singing. And it wasn't that he was particularly talented, but just loved to sing. And it wasn't that he worked there, but had just had some brunch and felt like singing. I imagine his post meal wine helped.

There were also two babies rolling around in cow shit during all of this as well. Because of course, Ham's Bistro is in the middle of a cow pasture.

Then as the meal seemed to come to an end and we were all full on bread and cheese, because there was plenty and more was coming, out of nowhere this fork hits my leg and this arm comes from above and lands rosti on my placemat. The owner, of course, had told us that he was making us some, but because it was in Swiss German, I had no clue. It was like the heavens opened up and served me food. But first tried to stab my leg with a fork.

Rosti is a Swiss dish. It's hashbrowns. And Ham's Bistro serves it with a fried egg on top - sunny side up. It was delicious. And I was stuffed. Because, of course, I was full on cheese, because of course, there was plenty, and more was coming.

So after a wonderful meal, we all headed back to Our Chalet to continue to work, but not without doing a few cartwheels and pulling my groin first.

Andrea and I finished the path much to our pride and pleasure. We needed motivation, so we put one of the CD's Jessie sent me in the cd player in the staff house and blasted it out the windows. Everyone was walking around singing and shaking their hips. It was a good thing.

We then tackled some wood chopping. I've never chopped wood. And I have very, very limited ax experience. So I was excited, but also very nervous about this part of the day. As you know, I'm not exactly accident-proof.

But Andrea and Ben both showed me how, and after about 45 minutes, I was a wood chopping fool. It's the same motion as the pick ax, so I had that part down - because I am damn good with a pick ax (Hey! maybe I should be a miner next!). It was the aiming for the wood and hitting my mark with the ax without charving a v-shaped hole in my shin part that was tricky. But I did it, and man did I do it good. (Although I found out Kat was watching me, unknown to me, and laughing at my technique.)

Then we had dinner and afterwards, Kat and I introduced the Scandinavians and Australian to kick ball. We played on the only flat part on site which is edged by a giant steep hill. I got a grand slam! But it was only because the ball went down that hill and no one was going after it at the speed needed to accomplish the out. So after my lap, (I made them wait on me to run the "bases" (two posts and a cardboard box)) I was sent down the hill to get the ball.

Then we played kick the can (that's what Kat calls it, but it's hide-and-seek) in the dark. And I successfully scared the shit, and by shit I mean she screamed like a little girl that just saw her cat ran over, out of my boss Sarah.

Then Kat, Louise, and I rounded out the evening with a game of trivial pursuit. (I suck at the game but enjoy the company, so it all evens out.)

Oh, and did I mention we have cows now!

I now have the tiredness that comes from a day in the sun, filled with satisfying work and good friends. Days like this are the reason I wanted to come here.

Today was a good day.

Lasagna

As part of the Staff Challenge, one has to cook a meal by herself. I don't like to cook for other people. It stresses me out, A LOT.

So last week when we had no guests, I pounced on the chance to cook for just the staff to complete this challenge.

We were scheduled to have lasagna. No problem, I have helped mom make it before.

So I spent the day psyching myself up for the task at hand. I decided I could start preparations at 4:30 for a 6:00 supper. In the mean time, a German group showed up for a tour, and I took it because Louise took the one earlier that day. That was at 3:30. Neither Louise nor I thought that one through. It was clear she should have taken it so that I would have time for dinner. Plus they were German, and she knows how to speak German.

So after the most awkward tour of my life, I headed to the kitchen at 4:40.

I pulled out the recipe and it said, "start sauce at 4:00." Shit! I immediately went into panic mode. I ran into the cellar, grabbed ingredients, came back up, went back down for the ingredients I forgot, came back up, ran to the fridge, forgot what I was suppose to get, went back to the recipe, memorized the list, gathered the rest of the ingredients, and then stood in front of the preparation counter not really able to think about anything because my brain had gone into fight or flight mode.

Now, a calm person might have taken time to stand there and contain themselves, then read through the recipe.

Well, not me. I just started with the first line and threw shit in a pot.

The first part was to make white sauce. I wasn't sure why I needed to make it because my mom never did, but hey this isn't her recipe. And the lasagna always tasted good here. So I made it. Of course not without spilling flour all over the floor, smearing butter all over the counter, and burning my finger first.

Then the next part of the recipe was to put tomato paste in. Into what? The pot with the white sauce, another pot? Well, it must be the white sauce. Who had two sauces for their lasagna? So in the pot it went, along with the canned tomatoes, the bay leaves, and a few more things.

About this time I looked at the time line of the recipe and realized that dinner was going to be late. Luckily, Sarah walked in about that time, and I told her it would be late. She asked if everything was ok. She must have asked after her seeing the huge mess I had made so far. I had tomato sauce on the counter and floor, the flour was still there as well as all the other ingredients I spilled in my true Jena way.

"Yes, everything's fine."

Now see, this is the time I should have said, "No Sarah, I think I should try the challenge another day, will you go get Louise to come help me?"

But I didn't.

So after her departure, I looked at the recipe again and realized that since I didn't have an hour to bake the lasagna, I'd boil the noodles before assembling this lovely Italian casserole. So I put a pot of water on to boil.

Back to the recipe. It said to steam spinach at 4:30. Well, shit. Ok, well put another pot of water on. Done.

Then it said to bring the sauce to a boil. Ok, turned the heat up. I went ahead and preheated the oven as well. That's the way to think ahead.

Now let me give you a bit of a visual to understand what I might have looked like while doing all of this.

When I panic, I tend to move really fast with my feet, really slowly with my arms. Or the opposite depending on what I'm doing. And I am constantly heading in a direction, stopping, and shaking my hands. Then turning around in the opposite direction because I can't remember the list I was cycling through my head.

The sauce began to boil. And by boil I mean little airbubbles were rising from the bottom of the pot and popping at the top of the sauce to spray tomato all over the place. You see, about this time I realized that I was suppose to keep the white sauce and tomato sauce separate. The sauce was too thick to boil without a lid over it. After being pelted with sauce, I managed to get a lid on and turn the heat down.

I greased the pans, and by greased I mean took a hunk of butter in my fingers and spread it across the pyrex dishes. Which means, I got butter EVERYWHERE. Then I threw the noodles in the boiling water (and I do mean threw) and put the spinach in the strainer in the pot to steam.

Ok, time to clean up a bit in case someone comes in. So I did a few dishes and made a salad. Because up until this point I forgot about the salad.

Salad done, check on the noodles, sauce, spinach. All is ready for assembling.

So I take the spinach out in the strainer and plop it on the counter. I should have held it over the sink first. Green water spread out over the counter and onto the floor. Now, a calm cool collected person would have put the strainer back in the pot after emptying all the water out of it. But instead I just shifted things further down the counter and let the green water spread.

I didn't strain the noodles. I thought tongs would work fine.

And the sauce, well it had burned to the bottom of the pot, but there was still enough not burnt to make the lasagna with.

So I pulled some noodles out - they were cheap and all stuck together. And did I mention I didn't strain them. So they were still boiling hot. But after several burns, "shits" and much toil, I got the first layer of noodles on.

Then the sauce, spinach, oh yes, the spinach. I should have taken it out of the strainer and separated it a bit first. It comes in these frozen spinach cubes, so when it heats up, you should use a fork or something to spread it out a bit so it's more like spinach than food product. But I didn't. And it was boiling hot too. So after more burns, "shits" and much toil, I got some spinach out and on the first layer. Then the cheese, simple enough.

And it continued like this for three more layers.

They were assembled and it was 5:50. The lasagna should bake for an hour. So I said, "I'll give it 30 minutes. The noodles are done, no worries."

About 6:00 is when everyone started to show up and check on me. Luckily, I had cleaned up the green pond the spinach created, scraped the burnt sauce off the pot, and cleaned the giant mushy mess that was the kitchen counter off before they arrived. I looked calm, cool, and collected.

When I finally rang the dinner bell, I had successfully warned everyone that this might be the worst lasagna they ever had.

It wouldn't cut properly.

And someone made a comment that it was more like lasagna stroganoff (should have read ahead about having two sauces).

And then Louise started to laugh. I asked her what was funny.

"You're back. You have tomato sauce all down it."

Ah yes, the boiling tomato sauce. But it was sort of tastey, and I survived. And Sarah signed off on my challenge. And I slept well that night.

Paragliding

It finally worked out for Anne Sophie, Sidsel, and I to go paragliding. We were given a beautiful day, and arrived in Frutigen all smiles.

Paragliding is when a person goes to the top of a mountain, attaches themselves to a parachute like apparatus (glider), runs really fast until the wind catches the glider, and then floats down to the bottom of the mountain.

We arrived at Cloud 7's hangar just in time to watch several paragliders landing. And by several, I mean at least 25. We got there 20 minutes early and stood watching our fate float down from the clouds. It was very exciting, but wierd that no one approached us and introduced themselves. We got a few glances, and an occasional grusse, but when we responded with hello, they figured out we spoke English and walked away. After a while of standing awkwardly around and a few cookies, we were greeted by our instructor.

Our instructor was Hans Peter, and he happened to be the instructor Anne Sophie had a few years back when she had gone paragliding before. He was a short, tan, blond curly haired man, very much looking the part of a Hans Peter. He spoke some English, but it was clear that he wouldn't understand everything we said.

As the bus loaded up with those that had just landed, he looked at us and said "we have space problem, we take next bus." So we nodded, smiled, and stood awkwardly for about 10 more minutes (and had one more cookie).

Upon the next bus' arrival, it was loaded and finally Hans Peter came to us and said we could get in. We sandwiched in the back between some talkative Swiss men and began our ascent via passenger van to the jumping off point (of course we assumed that's where we were headed because no one really told us our destination).

On the way, in true Swiss fashion, we zig zagged through several cow pastures. Apparently the cows were use to the van because it did not phase them when the van passed by fatally close. At one point, Hans Peter slammed on brakes (for of course he was the driver) because one such cow was in the middle of the road. He edged up to it and touched it with the front of the van...nothing. Then he touched it again, the cow seemed startled, collected itself, and then slowly wandered out of the way, only to move back to the middle of the road once the van was gone, much to the dismay of the car behind us.

Once we were up to the snow covered part of the mountain, it was time to unload. So we stepped out of the van and tried our best to get out of the "professional's" way. Finally, Hans Peter approached us and said, "Now I tell you what to do. There are too parts, first part the glider is in air and you are jogging. The second part is...well...run like hell."

As he proceeded to explain some more things, I was busy trying to figure out how I was going to run like hell in the snow attached to a parachute without busting my ass. We then picked our instructors, aka the men we would be paragliding tandum style with, and I latched onto Hans Peter. He was, after all, the only one who spoke English. And I, after all, wanted to understand all my instructions.

The thing is after that pep talk there were no more instructions. I paid the man, signed my life away on a tablet, and then let this complete stranger strap me into a harness, a glider, and himself. And then he said, "Ready?"

"Yes"

"Go"

So I started to run, but as soon as I did, the wind caught the glider and my feet barely touched the ground. Then...

"Run"

And I knew this to be the time to run like hell, and I did, well I tried. My legs were moving very fast, but they were no longer touching the ground. We were up in the air. And there I was floating down the mountain towards the valley. I said, "That wasn't hard." And he just made a noise indicating semi comprehension.

After a while, "Do you like roller coaster?"

I, of course, nodded yes, and he said, "Good, we will do some acrobatics before landing."

Then as we neared the ground, he started to swing the glider. We swung back and forth, fun, but nothing too thrilling. Then, "Now, we spin."

And spin we did.

The force was so strong that it shot all the snot that had been running out of my nose into the back of my throat. Thanks for the lunch Hans Peter. But it was wonderful. Exactly the thrill I needed, after dropping the cash I did to do this. I've been parasailing before, and it wasn't much different besides being over mountains instead of ocean, but the spin made it worth it.

Then, about 1 minute before landing, Hans Peter says, "I will land you on your butt. Lift legs when I say."

A minute later "Lift."

I did, and he did indeed land me on my ass.

It was a good day. The sun was out and I was full on my meal in the sky. And although the most clear English Hans Peter spoke was "run like hell," I never doubted his ability to jump off a mountain with me and land me safely in the valley below.

I'm insane.

Moving Trees

So we wake up to snow this morning, right.

And then in our morning meeting we're told that there's some outdoor work that needs to be done. Moving firewood to Baby Chalet - makes sense. We have some guests arriving and they may want a toasty fire given the current weather.

And then we're told Ben would like us to move some trees. It's snowing. And we're going to move trees? So Louise and I met with Ben and he told us where he wanted them, and I didn't tell him where I wanted to put them (or shove them rather). It's snowing.

So we took the firewood out to Baby Chalet, but not without me busting my ass first. We took this cart over, and didn't choose the best path. Well, what I mean is we took it straight down this steep hill. And I, of course could not make it down without introducing the very wet grass to my ass. I have realized that I've fallen so much in my life that my body has this instinctual ability to not hurt itself. It's almost as if its trained now to just be dead weight so my falls are funny rather than dangerous. Hmm...

Well anyway, Ben showed us the new locations - a bit haphazard arrangement but who am I to judge - and of course he wants one on the aforementioned steep hill, and I bust my ass on it again. I had a harder time getting up this time because I was laughing so hard, and Louise's guffaws didn't help. She is a good laugher.

So we used our spades, I used a pick ax - which I am excellent at by the way (but not without a few dirt clods down my back, down the back of my pants, and in my hair), we used our fingers, and our biceps, and toiled with the trees all day. We got 3 of the 8 planted before lunch. We were grateful that it didn't snow too much while we were working.

At lunch, I realized that I needed to be wearing some waterproofs because my pants were filthy and soaked. So I went into the boiler room to find a pair, and the only thing left was this flourescent pair. The were NICE. No worries about missing me in the snow. You could probably see me on the other side of the valley while enjoying a nice beer and schnitzel.

Then we had lunch, and the sun came out. So we were looking forward to ideal conditions for tree transplanting.

But when we put on our boots and walked out the door it was practically a blizzard. The damn sun disappeared, and we were planting trees in a big ass blizzard. What the hell?

But we did it. We accomplished what we set out to do. And I'm almost positive those watching us had as much fun as we did doing it. Sure it was not the funnest task, but like I said Louise is a good laugher, and we laughed A LOT. Especially when she sprayed dirt all over me, at which time I was mouth breathing, so I got a mouthful of dirt. Swiss dirt ain't bad, but the moral is when you're planting trees in the big ass Alps, make sure you use your nose to breath.

After dinner, as the sun was setting, I was feeling tired but proud of our performance for the day. And I looked out the window to this view, and thought, yeah this is good.

It's Snowing!

They've been calling for snow for the past two days. Being from South Carolina, I'm always a bit skeptical of snow forecasts. But sure enough, it's snowing. And big flakes too. I wouldn't expect any less in the big ass Alps. It's not sticking too much because the ground is too wet, but it's still exciting and wonderful to watch.