En Suisse

Hello Campers. Just returned from 4 days visiting my Aussie (well actually English like me, but now Aussie, you know what I mean) mate Carolyn and her hubby Bruce (yes that really is his name and yes he's Aussie) in Basel, Switzerland.

I've decided that Switzerland is the Singapore of Europe or Singapore is the Switzerland of Asia - I'm not sure which, but there are amazing similarities between the two. Both are astonishingly clean with very law abiding citizens and fairly draconian levels of state intervention in everyday life. Both are very affluent nations/ countries. Both have very industrious populations. Both are places where silence is a virtue and making a noise or standing out is discouraged. Off course Singapore is multicultural, whereas the Swiss are begrudging of anyone that isn't Swiss and Singapore's achievement of 'controlling it's environment' is the more remarkable as 'it's environment' is Asia, where even the plants grow in an anarchical fashion.

Anyway, I digress. My friend was transferred to Basel 3 years ago and by Swiss standards, Basel is quite cosmopolitan, being at the crossroads between France, Germany and Italy. They unfortunately speak Swiss German which is a horrible hybrid of German, horrible only because it renders schoolkid German unintelligible, but no-one minds if you slip in and out of German, French and English (and Italian), so that's what most people do.

Carolyn is a wonderful girl and has a 'joie de vivre' which is remarkable in that it is completely unconstrained by normal social parameters, so I arrived keen to find out how she was surviving in a country where your next-door neighbour can (and will) call the police if they feel that the treads on your car tires are worn!!! And I was pleased to hear that neither Switzerland, nor the Swiss, with their tutting of disapproval have dampened her enthusiasm for life. It was no great surprise that when we travelled on the tram she knows every ticket inspector by sight (she is a very friendly girl), however it did surprise me that this is because she refuses to buy a ticket - very unSwiss - in recompense for being stared at by Swiss people everytime she's on it! Her version of tax avoidance. Nor was I surprised that when out for dinner she was greeted like a long lost buddy by the north African immigrant rose-seller in his hybrid French/ German/ English. On asking how she knew him, she regaled that one night he tried to peddle his wares to her, not realising that she'd had a couple of sherberts (nor that she isn't Swiss) and so he got the shock of his life when instead of paying for a rose she grabbed the bunch and ran off down the street with them! (dear reader she then spent the next day with a hang-over scouring the streets until she found him in order to give him due recompense). I also found her way of getting home quickly after a few hundred drinks very enterprising - put a traffic cone on your head and meander down the street until 2 mins later you get picked up by the police and driven home (after they have returned the cone to it's rightful spot). Are you building a picture here?

How she's survived in the land of rules I am uncertain - they're probably so shocked by her behaviour that they don't know what to do with her, but she's enjoying living there, and I'm sure in a weird sort of way the Swiss are enjoying having her!

Bonne Journee

Well what a little adventure we had yesterday, a veritable exercise in Gallic hospitality.

Friends of my parents, George et Marianne, had decided that they wanted to take us on 'un petit tour', to encompass the countryside, Norman houses, a spot of lunch, and the piece de la resistance - a lake, where my dad can fish.

Now being under 40 (just) this was never sounding like a fun day out to me, but when in Rome etc etc plus they're friends of my parents so I thought it churlish to not go along for the ride. In order to fully appreciate how excrutiating the day was, you need to have an idea of the characters involved:

Ma and Pa, aka 'the Mads' (affectionately dubbed) who wind each other up in the nicest possible way. Best kept separated for long journeys.
Freddy and Mikey, sound like people, but in fact are the fur-kids of the above Mad people. Each abandoned by their previous owners and each with their respective 'issues' (more later).
George and Marianne, 60 plus ex Mason (him) with a knack for building things (like his house), with an over-developed Gallic version of Benny Hill humour. Married to the Brigitte Bardot look-alike Marianne, who suffers through jokes she has heard a 1,000 times before prior to saying sotto voce and with the sweetest smile on her face, 'Arret George'.
Alice and Pascal, grouped together as the offspring of the main characters, both under 40, and both could have found a more productive use for the day.

As planned we depart at 9am for our tour. The second we leave home, Freddy decides that his abandonment issues need to be addressed NOW and starts whining and throwing himself against every surface he can find. Mikey doesn't want to be left out on the act so starts shredding things in order to attract human attention. Pa lets out a constant refrain of, 'I think there's something seriously wrong with this animal', interspersed by the odd mistimed response to a question asked 5 mins previously, as he is somewhat deaf, and being surrounded by nutters doesn't help his hearing. Alice reverts to teenage sulk mode, and keeps trying to reclaim her inner calm by remembering that this is about spending 'special' time with her parents, whilst concetrating on her deep breathing. Ma tries to follow George which is like the snail keeping up with the hare.

After 45 mins of driving when we spot a huge town, Alice the ingenue asks innocently, 'where is this?', to be told that is Rouen, a town which normally takes 20 mins to get to, but not when on the 'scenic tour'. Alice and Ma then burst into hysterical laughter with Alice stating for the record that this sort of day out will be attractive in 40 years, but for the meantime she wants out. By now, Alice desperately needs a coffee (the deep breathing is NOT working), and even Ma has had enough of the neurotic threesome in the back. We stop and Freddy promptly has to be locked back in the car as he barks in a deranged fashion. Mikey attacks a boxerdog. Pa disappears. George looks frustrated as his trip plans do not allow for coffeebreaks, Marianne makes polite conversation. Alice wonders whether she can slip something stronger into her coffee.

Eventually we reach the brocante (junk shop) which George is taking us to and the oldies do the tour. I give them a break by taking the neurotic twosome for a walk. All my eco aspirations go out of the window as I silently wish for my own car ...

Next stop, Pascal's for lunch. After an aperitif and an introduction to his viking model collection, we sit down to a 3 course meal of melon, frozen pasta with salmon sauce and creme caramel. Two hours later we leave and depart for the lake. My French is getting better as my wish for an escape route grows ...

The lake, is man-made and has all number of attractions including waterskiing, sailing, canoing, a restaurant, lavatories, a luge, all of which George would like us to inspect, but declaring sickness Ma tries to make a graceful exit for us. The tour is cut short and Pa manages to negotiate that we will only view one more item which is around the corner. After driving for 30mins we arrive at a lookout point and admire the view and at George's request take a cup of tea. Freddy goes ape at another dog and has to be physically removed.

Finally make it back to the car, and a begrudging George acknowledges that despite the fact that he wanted to show us more, he understands that we have to get home as we have friends coming over for drinks (true). Fond farewells ensue, and boy was I grateful to get back in the car despite it containing Freddy. Drive like the clappers to get back in time with Ma sulking all the way (due to Pa's inability to get us out sooner), Pa playing with the dogs and the dogs generally behaving like the tired sociopaths they are.

Tumble out of the car only ten minutes late at 19.05 to be greeted by a phone-call, 'you don't mind if we don't come over do you?'. Luckily I answered the phone or I think there may have been one less retired anglais in Normandy if my mother had - all in all the perfect end to a perfect day!!!

Girly Swot - not

Well I survived the three weeks of intellectual stimulation at LSE, and despite feeling like an intellectual gnome I must have learnt something as I got a B+ on the course, which is kinda ok. It's a degree level course so I guess that's equivalent to a 2:1

Of course I would have been quite satisfied indeed with this mark if it wasn't for the fact that the buddy I made on the course (Carey) managed to waltz home with an A. hmmm, now I'm wondering what was lacking in my essay and exam paper .... obviously just didn't quite take it to the right level, or maybe I shouldn't have told my prof that his jokes were crap (well I didn't really, I just shook my head and groaned every time he made one!).

Anyway, no one's going to be signing me up as their human rights lawyer in the short term so I guess I've still got time to study some more! Note to self - suck up to prof next time round.