Swiss Riveria

Well it has been a long time since I have taken up the pen to regale y’all with my stories of travel, adventures and disasters. It has been an eventful few years and while I have lots of stories built up, I have only just now been prompted by my recent foray into Switzerland to once again inflict my friends and family with my foibles.

Let me start by saying, I am not a chocolate person. I know no one believes me when I say that and I won’t lie, I do have a few moments, usually hormonally induced. But on any given day I will take a potato cooked in salt and grease every time over a hunk of valrhona cru. And I stand by this. Except when I am in Switzerland.

I really can’t explain it, but I walked into a chocolate shop in the train station and I was suddenly overwhelmed and consumed by the heady rich aroma of cocoa, butter and sugar. I swear Zurich is to chocolate what Amsterdam is to drugs – an oasis of self indulgence and decadence. So, I was basically getting a contact high. I am convinced it lasted the entire time I was there as I actually ate at least one single bar of chocolate every single day. And since I’ve been back? Not tempted. (OK, that IS a lie.)

It was a whirlwind trip – a few days in Zurich visiting old friends and then a gorgeous train ride down to Lausanne for work meetings and some parties. Now, I have lived in London for 4 years now. And, I travel all the time. Yet, I still am incapable of packing weather appropriate attire. I brought a beautiful white pants suit, 5 inch red patent heels and only one pair of slipper like flats. Oh, and some workout clothes and tennis shoes that only got put on once when I wandered up to the hotel gym to look at it. I had great intentions, but unfortunately, one look at the lone sad broken down mirror-facing treadmill, positioned, conveniently, for a close-up view of your body in full jiggle mode, and, somehow, the bars of chocolate in my hotel room seemed more appealing.

(And, note to self, contrary to popular belief, you get no benefit from wandering around a gym in workout attire. Seems sweating is actually required.)

Of course, it rained the entire time I was in Switzerland. And, my hotel was up a ridiculously steep hill. Paved in cobblestones. So….my white suit is now dragging through the grimy brown rain soaked streets because I sure as hell couldn’t get those red heels up that hill. And, after traipsing around Zurich for 3 hours (also in the rain, I might add) in those ballet slippers I also developed some strange pain in my left knee, leaving me with a noticeable limp. Luckily one of the guys I work with “diagnosed” me with bursitis. (And, no, there is absolutely no connection to the fact that he was just diagnosed with that.) Now, folks, don’t google bursitis. I did. And, apparently, it is most often found in middle aged women. And, is caused by obesity. So, now I am feeling really GREAT. Thankfully, I am high on chocolate. So, turns out, I am not that fussed.

In any event, I managed to struggle through and we had some wonderful dinners and parties, culminating in a wine tasting and cooking lesson from a French chef at a beautiful winery outside of Geneva. I am not a fan of the French on a good day – and, no, it is not some misguided redneck ignorant political statement. It is because they are rude. And, they think they are better than everyone else. I am from Texas. WE are better than everyone else. Enough said. Clearly, this disdain is mutual. Because our little French chef was nice to everyone at the cooking lesson….except the one Texan. As I was busily chopping my chives, he vociferously chastized the results of my chopping: “what eez deeese? Deeese chives, zey look like bicyclettes!? Who would eat zees?? NO ONE!”

Bear in mind, I have no idea what a bicyclette, but I sure as hell got his intent. So, I kindly reminded that I was the one holding the cleaver. He shut up quick. Typical French. If you really want a laugh, google “French Military Victories.” Hit the “I’m feeling lucky button.” You’ll see what I mean.

Anyway, we ended up having a wonderful haute cuisine meal accompanied by some tasty complementary wines – all elegant and grown up. Until it was time to get back in the bus and the Texan decided we needed some roadies for the 40 minute trip back to Lausanne! The only roadie appropriate beverage available was some rose, so three bottles later….(strangely, they had no plastic cups to accompany the bottles??) we’re on the bus, passing them around, donning the leather rent boy style cap that our good Swiss chauffeur found fashionable and taking incriminating photos. Suffice it to say the night ended up with dancing in a shady bar fueled by multiple jack daniels and diet cokes, accompanied by slurred attempts to converse in French, a lost coat check ticket, an altercation at the coat check, resulting in an upturned wallet on the floor of the bar (in a futile attempt to locate said coat check ticket), a limping stumble home and a pile of chocolate bar wrappers by the bedside.

All I can say is, thank God there was a McDonalds on the way down that damn hill towards the train station. Because, yes, I had a nice long train ride and flight back to London to look forward to the next morning. Why do I always have hangovers when I have to fly?? And, Murphy’s Law, the flight is 100% full and I am in the very back row. But, at least it is a short flight from GENEVA to London. This is key. One should always know where one has flown in from as it aids greatly in the luggage collection department. And, prevents that embarrassment incurred when you have to say, “Oh, oops, you can cancel that luggage claim you are filing, Mr. Airport Luggage Collection man. I just realized that I was not, in fact, on the flight from Zurich and I can see my lone bag circling the drain of the Geneva carousel yonder.” Nice.

And, then there’s the Heathrow Express journey where I realized that my upturned wallet on the bar floor, while not yielding the all important coat check ticket, did result in the loss of all my business receipts and my train ticket. And, then when I got home I realized I had also left behind my power cord for my laptop at the hotel and two bottles of wine in our office. I also left some bars of chocolate in a conference room. I did manage to bring home my clean workout clothes and about 25 extra pounds thanks to the chocolate/beer/cheese. Oh, and a few bars of Swiss chocolate goodness.

But, no problem. Because I am not a chocolate person. Right?