Dreaming of Lac Leman

I’m sick. Not the ‘I have a bit of a headache and sneezed a couple of times this morning’ kind of sick. Well, that technically wouldn’t be incorrect. But, right now, I’m talking about the ‘my head is thirty degrees hotter than the rest of my body, and I’m really glad I bought three boxes of tissues yesterday’ kind of sick. You’d think five litres of water, honey, Lemsip, Panadol, fresh oranges and twenty-two hours sleep in the past twenty-four would help, right? But no, I still managed to miss a morning of uni and a class excursion to eat cheese fondue. CHEESE FONDUE! And being angry only makes my headache worse. 

Maybe I should have taken it easier this first week, but even now, sick in bed, I know I wouldn’t have done it any other way...

When Lac Leman is practically at your door step, it’s hard to resist pulling on your boots and going for a walk by the water. In fact, it is usually too hard to resist. 

Dawn: As the sun creeps slowly over the Alps, everything is tinted by pastel hues. Mist swirls over the lake and obscures the horizon, entrancing and mysterious. It’s almost too easy to believe that the faint splash heard in the distance was made by a mermaid’s tail. 

Morning: The delicious bite of the crisp winter air. I can only relate the sensation to sinking my teeth into a cold, crunchy apple – Pink Lady, to be precise. Rays of sunlight dance across the lake’s surface. The enticing perfume of fresh coffee and croissants from nearby boulangerie stalls lighten my purse.

Midday: The town of Ouchy, with its quaint little bridges and water features, is home to the Port of Lausanne and a wonderful crêperie. Try the crêpes with raspberry jam, or the local specialty Crêpe à la Raisinée. I did, and they made me very happy.

Afternoon: The sunset is spectacular. Every photo taken here is postcard-worthy. The swans are also out to play, but all dressed in white. Ironically, they seem to possess a much fiercer nature than the black ones in Australia. A final glance over the silhouettes of hundreds of sailboat masts against the flaming sky. Magnifique.

So, this is why I have found it so difficult to stay in my apartment!

I will write more about my Swiss adventures next time, dear reader, but now, it’s time to return to my koala-inspired lifestyle... Good night!

A Taste of Beauty

I have finally finished my homework, put my washing in the dryer, and made myself a steaming cup of chai tea with honey. Now, where do I begin?

It has been ten days since I landed on Swiss soil. Jet lag? A little. Snow? Not yet. New friends? Many. Chocolate? A lot!

For the first three weeks, I am taking the Cours de Vacances – an intensive winter language course – at the University of Lausanne (more affectionately known as l’Unil). Along with hundreds of other students, young and old, from Brazil to Korea and Russia to South Africa, I am diving beanie-first into the nuances and intricacies of the French language.

Living in a French-speaking environment has its advantages...and also its difficulties. Sure, it’s exhilarating and confidence-boosting to be able to ask for (and comprehend) directions from a policeman in French. And I love leisurely surfing the French channels on TV. But at the same time, asking the cashier to repeat the sum slowly while rummaging through foreign coins doesn’t make me very popular with local customers!

A few things I have already grown to love about Switzerland?

The precision (unsurprisingly). It is not a stereotype; it is a fact. A bus is “late” if it arrives two minutes behind schedule. No need to fear frostbite here! 

The chocolate. It’s true, even the Swiss “Black & Gold” equivalent is better than Cadbury’s...and much cheaper. Great news for my taste buds, but not so good for my weight!

And the signs. On bus stops, in front of shops, by the road, on top of buildings... In fact, my new favourite pastime on the bus and metro is trying to read every sign we pass. No, not simply reading – savouring. Devouring. Rolling the words around on my tongue, tasting the sounds, hearing the colours they create. A delicious melange of senses that swirl together to create this beautiful language. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I have read these signs aloud once or twice...but that doesn’t bother me much. It would be as if I accidentally began singing out loud, or started dancing in the street. It is simply an expression of joy and an appreciation for beauty. And that could never be a bad thing.

5 Ingredients

Lately, I’ve been stuck in a rather tricky situation: having too little time and money but too many picky tastebuds and OCD healthy-eating habits.

So, I decided to draw inspiration from the hugely successful 4 Ingredients recipe series. To avoid copyright issues, I added one more ingredient to my recipes. No, I’m kidding, it was actually the angel on my right shoulder telling me to eat a more balanced diet.

Dice, Rice...Nice!

The 5:

·      Rice

Diced:

·      Celery

·      Cucumber

·      Carrot

·      Onion

Cook it:

1)    Boil rice (please follow the instructions on the rice packet/rice cooker, or else you may end up with a “rice cake”. Yes, I am typing from personal experience)

2)    Heat some oil in a pan, add onion, sauté until golden

3)    Add celery and carrot, a little water, salt, pepper (and optional soy sauce)

4)    Cook until desired softness/crunchiness is reached

5)    Add cucumber, turn off heat after 1 minute

6)    Serve with rice!

Pasta with Yogurt, Naturally

 

The 5:

·      Pasta

·      Natural Yogurt

·      Cucumber (diced)

·      Carrot (grated)

·      Onion (as you wish. Ok, CHOPPED as you wish, NOT a whole onion)

Cook it:

1)    Boil pasta

2)    Heat some oil in a pan, add onion and some salt, sauté until golden

3)    Add cucumber and carrot, turn off heat after 1 minute

4)    Drain pasta and add yogurt (as much as desired, like pasta sauce)

5)    Mix in a few spoonfuls of cooked vegetables – munch away!

Switzerland: Stretching the Mangrove Roots

On January 28^th, at roughly 10:45pm, I took my first steps toward Switzerland. 

After a traditional last stop at McDonald’s with the boy (we’re a classy couple), our glorious three months of summer holidays had come to an end. Walking through the international departures gate with a brave smile, I felt a sense of independence like I had never known. But not in that clichéd, “cue orchestra” sort of way. No, I wasn’t the heroine of some Hollywood movie. I felt scared and alone; walking away from everything I knew and loved. At that moment, the thought of spending six months in a land where I didn’t know a soul and was hardly confident in the language loomed over me like...well, the Alps!

It’s hard to believe that was only three days ago.

Since then, I have walked across the tarmac in Qatar, watched a sunset from Zurich to Lausanne, lugged a suitcase up five flights of stairs, looked over the entire city from a cathedral, eaten a chocolate croissant and spoken more French than I did in all my high school years combined.

My twenty one hour flight passed quickly with the help of seven movies, three (surprisingly good) airplane meals and a comfy neck pillow. The French version of The Aristocats – Les Aristochats – was enchanting and Never Let Me Go left me in a bawling, blubbering mess, much to the horror of my fellow passengers.

By pure chance, I met a lovely girl on the train from Zurich airport who, despite being Australian, had a long conversation with me in French as we traversed the beautiful Swiss countryside. Before she left, she gave me some survival tips and a bar of Toblerone, then continued on her way home to Perth via Paris.

After that, helping hands appeared everywhere. 

A fellow student from my old university staying in the same residence college cooked me dinner. She also gave me a pillow, a blanket, sheets, towels and food for the morning. My Canadian roommate helped me set up my internet, lent me his power adapter, then proceeded to show me around the city and cook me crepes. My Swiss buddy, assigned to me through the university, spoke patiently to me in French and spent hours helping me buy a phone card and groceries... And of course, there is also the wonderful emotional support from the boy half way across the world (Skype is gold).

I’ve never been religious, yet I can’t help but feel like someone is watching over me. Wouldn’t you, dear reader, with all these angels around?

Now, I am typing to you from my neat little apartment in the canton of Lausanne that I share with four others. It is a two minute walk from the picturesque Lac Leman, across which the Alps and the lights of France are clearly visible. Cobblestone streets lined with quaint patisseries and designer boutiques wind upward from the lake, peaking at the magnificent Cathédrale de Lausanne overlooking the entire city. With sights like these, it’s hard to even complain about the cold!

Yep, I think I’m in love...

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling in the Kitchen

Time for a light-hearted blog, I say... How about another recipe? 

I baked these biscuits for my last birthday. They are fun and easy to make and taste as good as they look. So, whether they are a guilty pleasure or a delicious gift (think cellophane and ribbon), you know you won't be able to resist...    

Honey’s Bumblebee Biscuits

...aka Lemon-Chocolate Pinwheels

(Makes 40)

COLLECTING:

Butter (175g, softened)

Plain Flour (350g)

Caster Sugar (250g)

Egg (1, beaten)

Plain Chocolate (25g, broken into pieces)

Lemon (1, use grated rind)

MAKING:   

1)        In large mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy

2)        Gradually add beaten egg to creamed mixture, beating well after each addition

3)        Sift flour into mixture, mix thoroughly until soft dough forms

4)        Transfer half of dough into another bowl. Melt chocolate in heatproof bowl over gently simmering water, beat into one half of dough

5)        Mix grated lemon rind into other half of dough

6)        On lightly floured baking paper, roll out dough to form two equal rectangles

7)        Lay lemon dough on chocolate dough, roll up tightly (lengthwise) using baking paper to guide you. Chill for 1 hour

8)        Preheat oven to 190 ̊ C. Cut roll into 40 slices, bake on foil-covered tray for 10-12 min (or lightly golden). Cool completely before serving (if you can wait that long!)

Gambling: Money or Mind?

Recently, I decided to break my moral code and partake in a little personal experiment.

No, I did not set off fireworks in the backyard, and no, I did not steal any jewelery...I bought my very first lottery ticket. And given that I have been working at a Tattersall’s (lottery) store for the past sixteen months, you, dear reader, are now probably either very confused, laughing, or both.

Gambling’s never really been my thing. Ok, that’s an understatement. With the exception of my experiment, I have never bought a lottery ticket or scratchie, placed a bet on a horse or even dropped a coin into a poker machine.

Why not? Well, I simply don’t believe in luck. I’m a control freak, remember? So I certainly don’t like depending on something I have no control over whatsoever. Plus, working in a lottery store has not only shown me the mathematical figures on the probability (or more appropriately, improbability) of winning the games, but also the enormous amount of money people waste on gambling – day after day, week after week, year after year. Now, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that the money saved from all these tickets would easily add up to winning a jackpot!

But money isn’t the only thing I’m afraid of losing from gambling; I’m also scared for my sanity... 

You see, back in Year 10, our class took part in the ASX share market game. We were each given a hypothetical $50,000 to invest, and over a couple of months, bought shares and received dividends to simulate real stock exchange. As expected, we learned the history of stock exchange, the process of buying and selling shares and the definition of a blue chip company. But what I had not anticipated was the obsession and paranoia that accompanied the game. Often, I would obsess over tiny rises and falls in the market until I was checking my shares almost every ten minutes. And it wasn’t even real money! Ok, so I was a little more obsessive-compulsive than most, but the game highlighted for me, personally, the dangers of gambling – not only on the hip pocket, but also on the mind.

Of course, the lottery companies understand this. They sell cards to “help” customers store their weekly favourite numbers, and consequently, fall into the habit of gambling. There are many who have played the same games for decades – spending anything from $10 to $2000 a week – without winning substantial prizes. Why? All because they cannot stand the thought of missing out on the one draw where their numbers might pop up. It’s an addiction.

So, in an attempt to understand this feeling and compare it to my stock exchange experience, I picked up a pen and carefully filled in a coupon with my favourite seven numbers. The screen flashed, the printer whirred, and there it was: my potential $10 million ticket. Yup, and then that feeling: the heady mix of growing anticipation, impatience and lust. Even though I knew the maths, I couldn’t help but think of the possibilities of a seven figure bank account.

Of course, I didn’t win. Yet after the results came out, sure enough, I thought to myself: “but what if my numbers come up next week?”

Scary, huh? Well, it sure scared me.

But I haven’t bought a ticket since, and I don’t plan to anytime soon. It is not any industry I would choose to work in – but money is money for a uni student – and definitely not one I would choose to donate to.

No, I am saving my money and my mind.

BALI

In the weeks before Christmas, the boy and I decided to go to Bali for ten days. It was a place, it seemed, that everyone had been to but us. And with my impending trip to Europe, affordability was a must.

We booked our flights and accommodation months beforehand with the intention of planning every minute detail of our journey. But you already know how this story ends. A combination of work, exams and, mostly importantly, procrastination landed us in Bali without much more than our passports, a handful of cash, dysfunctional phones and a single change of clothes in two little backpacks. Yup, we’d dived into the deep end, and cultural asphyxiation had our heads spinning as soon as we stepped onto Balinese soil.

The trip did not start well. My eyes stung from inserting contact lenses after a long flight and the porters demanded money for grabbing our feather-light bags. Outside, the humid night air was heavy with strange smells and sounds that we did not understand. Only the thought of a clean, air-conditioned hotel room comforted us on our bumpy trip along the pothole-ridden roads from the airport. However, the strange room we walked into with no wifi, phone reception or drinkable tap water only added to our sense of isolation and despair.

As the boy muttered: “I could’ve taken you anywhere in the world!” I lay down on the hard bed and thought it was going to be a long ten days...

And in the end, it was. But in the best way possible.

Early next morning, our luck began to change. After a good breakfast by the pool and palm trees, we met our Balinese tour guide, Roy. Though having only heard about him the night before, he could’ve been sent to us by the Balinese gods. Roy was young, charismatic, spoke great English, and within half an hour, had planned three full day trips, organised a driver, and given us some easy-to-read maps.

And so, our journey began...

EAT

Bali is simply a food lover’s heaven. A dinner for two at a nice restaurant including drinks will set you back no more than $20AUD. And the food is nothing short of drool-worthy (oops! Sorry, Keyboard).

The most popular Balinese dish is Nasi Campur (pictured above), or as I like to call it: rice with the LOT.  While the boy played it safe, I also tried a few delicacies like sweet and sour frog legs and oxtail soup. Come on, I was in Bali!

We did have a lot of fun experimenting with different drinks though...avocado smoothie with chocolate syrup, mint tea with jelly cubes, and young coconut straight from the fruit, just to name a few. And with the exception of a very bitter iced coffee, we loved them all.

A few delicious highlights?

Lunching in the clouds, surrounded by volcanos. Eating grilled lobster on the beach while wriggling my toes in the sand. Mistaking a chilli for a green bean and losing control of my voice box and tear ducts for ten minutes (ok, not so delicious). And enjoying a buffet breakfast with lions playing outside the restaurant window.

It’s a miracle I didn’t put on any weight...

PLAY

For many, Bali is synonymous with beautiful beaches and hot night clubs. We, however, saw neither. Of the beaches we visited, none were remotely comparable to Australia’s. As for the nightclubs, we simply weren’t very interested.

Instead, we visited a monkey forest, where the boy made many new furry friends. They were all over him. Literally. They loved perching on his shoulders and practically swallowing our bag of bananas whole. It wasn’t until after we had left Bali that we learned selling bananas to feed the monkeys is a local joke the Balinese like to play on tourists.

We enjoyed a day spa treatment (though I nearly passed out in the sauna) and numerous wonderful massages. And luckily, recognised as a couple, we were not offered any “happy endings”!

We spent a day at Waterbom Park, floating around the Lazy River and satisfying our adrenaline-junkie alter egos with waterslides like the Boomerang and the Climax. Some snorkelling ensued the next morning in rather murky water, but the schools of fish nibbling from our fingers made the experience worthwhile. I also got to lift up a 50kg turtle! 

Shopping, of course, was terrific. Once we’d learned the art of haggling – well, the boy anyway, my Chinese genes took over quite naturally – we managed to score quite a few decent bargains in the market stalls. For more hassle-free shopping, we wandered around the huge Discovery Shopping Mall. Not only was it an all-too-convenient five minute walk from our hotel, the lack of “massage?”, “transport?” and “come in, very cheap!” calls in our ears made Discovery an attractive place indeed.

The last two days brought us many new adventures at the Bali Safari and Marine Park. Nothing spectacular, you know; just handfeeding zebras and lions, riding elephants and being followed by a herd of deer. Well, there was also the piranha feeding time and petting tiger cubs... Oh, and we slept in canopy beds in air-conditioned huts with rhinos and zebras walking outside the balcony.

Yep, eat your heart out, Melbourne Zoo.

LEARN

The Balinese are a very religious people. One of the first things you’ll notice when walking around Bali is the offerings made to the gods every morning, placed on the front doorstep of every house, hotel, electronics store, massage salon...you name it, it’s there. They are little trays made from banana leaf, filled with little things like a piece of meat, some rice, a biscuit and a few flowers. Temples are as common as...well, churches here...and every family has their own temple area within the family compound. Roy explained their “variation of one god into different gods” belief to us, but somewhere along the way, I got really confused. So, that’s that.

One morning, we went to watch the traditional Barong & Kris dance. Basically, it depicts the eternal battle between good (Barong, a lion) and evil (Rangda, a monster witch thing. Actually, now that I think about it, it looked like one of the Wild Things). Then, at the end – oh wait, SPOILER ALERT! – the men all stab themselves with Kris (a wavy-bladed sword thing). It was scarily realistic. We were more than a little confused until Roy explained that it was to drive the evil out from within.

The Balinese weave and dye beautiful cloths in a process known as Batik. It takes roughly twelve steps – apply wax, dye, reapply wax, redye, re-reapply...you get the idea – to layer the colours and patterns. But the end result is so worth it. Simply stunning.

So, that very briefly wraps up our ten days in Bali. Ok, so you tell me 1200 words isn’t exactly VERY BRIEF, but trust me, it took a lot of control not to keep typing! Anyway, now for the sentimental wrap-up so that you, dear reader, can go enjoy your new year away from your computer screen:

Bali was...quite an experience, not only for all the reasons stated above, but also because it was a sharp learning curve for me as a traveller. It was a reminder to my inner control freak that caution and planning are good, but sometimes, enjoying things as they come makes the best kind of holiday.

Oh, and one last thing, the smell of RID mosquito repellent will now forever remind me of Bali...