Parents in Lausanne 2009

Long Time Gone

I was recently made aware of the fact that my posting activity has been less than consistent. So here's a quick update, before I can get more slideshows together.

On Thursday, September 17, every single member of the "Thompson" family (3) reunited in Geneva. My parents stayed here in Lausanne for about a week, and I kept them moving every day. There were roadtrips to remote mountain peaks with only the sound of cow bells penetrating the thick, chilly fog. There were midieval (sp?) castles explored. There was fondue, of course. Coffee. Chocolate. You know, all the things you can get "exactly the same" back in NC. We rode train after train, scenic tours featuring alpine beauty that no city could begin to capture. It was great to see my family, and I look forward to more visits in the future. Here are my parents at Chateau Chillon just east of Montreux along Lac Lèman (Lake Geneva):

After the parting of the ways back in Geneva (everyone seems to be getting better at this by the way - soon the need for counseling may no longer even be a concern!), I headed back to Lausanne for a day or two before boarding the 6:20am train for Munich and Oktoberfest. There I met my friends Joe and Laura from Charlotte for the weekend. There were beer steins, there were brats, there was weinerschitzel, and good times had by all. On Sunday, we found a spot at the tables outside the Hofbrauhaus tent and parked there from a little after 11am til 8pm. Long day, but it passed quickly with our new local friends Susi, Stephan, and Anita. They first thought that Joe and Laura were my parents (this is getting old, people), but we moved past that. Below is a pic of me and my new parents, then me and Susi. Ich bin ein Münchener!

With another week of vaca (or "holidays" as they say here...annoyingly), I left Munich headed south to Austria. Innsbruck was a beautiful little town, and I'd love to get back there sometime when I can stay longer. It hosted the winter Olympics twice ('64 and '72 I think), and one leftover is the giant ski jump that I hiked to the top of (renovated in 2002). They can actually jump year round, so there were a couple guys just going round and round, riding the lift up, then jumping into thin air on the way back down. Pretty cool. Below is the landing area with Innsbruck in the valley below and some nearby logging (reasons for this explained below).

Next day, on to Italy. I was supposed to stop in this little town of Bolzano, but the train gods were not on my side that Tuesday. First, the Austrian ticket counter seller man told me the wrong platform, so I missed the train out of Innsbruck and had to wait another 2 hours for the next (but in the meantime I went to the park and got my Jason Bourne Supremacy on), effectively ending hopes of getting to Bolzano's "ice man" museum. Then, when I finally made it on the right train (note: despite the fact that he told me the wrong platform yet again) to Verona. There, since the train was going on to Milan, I asked around whether it would stop in Brescia (home of Mark and Dana) along the way. No one spoke English, but then this apparently very well-traveled American business man gave me his two cents: "Oh, yes, I take this train all the time; it definitely stops in Brescia." Famous last words. Ninety minutes later, I found myself in Milan frantically searching for a ticket counter opened at 9:30pm. No counter, but thanks to a ticketless dude and a drunk kid who'd travled all the way from Berlin that day, I got where I need to go, arriving in Brescia only 2.5 hours late. Thanks to Mark's taco salad, I didn't go hungry.

While in Brescia visiting the recently un-deported Southards, I took a couple day trips to Desanzano and to Venice. With Dana working, Mark was an excellent tour guide. Below is Desanzano's quaint coastline on Lake Garda.

Venice, while of course one of the most unique cities you'll ever visit, turns out to be one of the most touristy cities as well. It's really tough to see that anything other than tourism takes place there (there was no PwC office in site). We took the waterbus down the Grand Canal, wandered the narrow, winding, carless streets, toured all around St. Mark's Square, including the bascilica, and had some great eats. I am a HUGE fan of the "piadine" these days. While I like Mark a lot, we didn't take a gondola tour together. Even if we had wanted to, I think the middle-aged Japanese men had the market cornered.

Back in Brescia that night, the three of us went out for a traditional Italian meal. My entree of cavatelli was very good, but the main story was the antipastas they brought out sort of as appetizers. Delicious. The first looked terrible, but it was the best eggplant dish I've ever eaten. There was also salami, cheese, and bread, but the little round onions stewed in balsamic vinegar were my favorite. Not sure the name of this hole in the wall place, but it was very small, not heavily trafficed, and had its daily menu written in chalk up on the wall.

I returned from my travels on Friday, October 2 from Italy. The 4.5 hour train ride was long and initially very crowded, but I had no connections, which was a nice change. Back in Lausanne, I opened my computer to find 200+ emails. Gave up on that pretty quick. Then came facebook, where I learned that the father of a very close family friend had passed away earlier that same day. Not to be outdone, my mother tells me on the phone that shes in the emergency room with my grandfather. These sorts of things make you want never to go on vacation.

The next morning, I rested up and started to get organized for the busy week ahead. But another phone call from home put a stop to all those plans: my grandfather had passed away. He'd been taken by an aggressive virus that showed its face Friday morning and took about 12 hours to do it's damage. Lee was not a well man, having just turned 87 the previous Monday and going to dialysis three days a week for around three years. But nonetheless it came as a shock to us all. I honestly thought I'd make it back to see him again before his time would come. So I quickly made the necessary arrangements, and after flying Geneva-Frankfort-Philadelphia-New York-Raleigh on Sunday, made it back for the funeral the following day. It wasn't the reason I wanted to be visiting home, but it was still good to see the family after four months abroad.

The logs in the picture above were for Lee. He was a tree man, having logged for many years before turning to the crisote plant. I suppose the Innsbruck ski jump would have been interesting to him, but the fact that logging was going on just next to it would have put it all into perspective somehow. The pics were taken on Monday, September 28...Lee's birthday. I'd tried to call him when I got into the hotel, but ended up leaving a message since he was probably at dialysis. It's tough that I didn't get to speak with him one last time...to wish him a happy birthday personally...to tell him about those damn logs. But I'm told he got the message, and I'm thankful that for some reason he could easily understand me on the phone despite his lately deteriorating hearing. Lee will be missed, and the family will not be the same, but we are comforted in knowing that he has finally found the final peace that we all one day seek.

That gets us about up to date. I came back from NC and immediately began PMI's quartlerly review...still ongoing. Finally got out of my co-worker's guest bedroom and into my own place...nearly 2 months after the fire took out my other one. Things are slowly getting back to normal. I leave you will a funny pic. Mark tried to get me to buy this for Dana in Venice and carry it around all day in my backpack...

Things Are Looking Up

Now that I got the fire story over with yesterday, I wanted to share with you (dear reader) the great news of the week. And there is a lot.

First, let me begin with last weekend. As you will see from the post before last, I took a little trip with some friends to Basel to see the Swiss national team play Greece in a World Cup qualifier. The Saturday started with me taking a short train ride to Morges, sort of a suburb of Lausanne, where Rashmi and Cyril live right on the main town square. We had omlettes and took a stroll around the bustling market before hopping the train to Basel. Couple hours later, we arrived. It was a great, sunny day, so we decided to make it a walking day...no buses. We grabbed a sandwich at the grocery store and headed for the zoo. Not crowded at all, and the only animals we didn't get to see were the monkeys (just barely missed their building's closing time). Cyril was disappointed that we missed the seal show too.

So after the zoo, we headed back into town where the futball fans were out in force in their red jerseys. In need of a little luck (Switzerland was ranked a couple spots lower than Greece) before the game, we headed to a great Irish pub. They were showing the US Open and soccer on the flat screens, so we order some beers, some chips (fries), and took a load off. The game itself was entertaining, even if I'm not the biggest sportsfan who ever walked the planet. The stadium (largest in Switzerland I think, although small by US standards) was full of red, and each seat had a Swiss flag to be waved in support of the team. They were big fans of their fight songs, and of course they sang the Swiss national anthem at the beginning (they don't know if too well though). The Swiss kept the ball on the Greek's side of the field most of the game, but there were no real highlights until the last 10-15 minutes. You could tell the Greeks were getting tired despite having a near miss on the Swiss goal, and it wasn't long before the Swiss made it 1-0. After a couple other solid shots over the next minutes, the Swiss notched another and wrapped up the game at 2-0. Hop Swiss! (something like Go Swiss!) It was a late night getting home, but I think we made it back before 2am. Worth it though. Thanks to Rashmi and Cyril for the ticket!

Great news #2: On Thursday, my relocation agent called to inform me that my application at one of my favorite appartments from my search since the fire had been accepted! So by at least October 1, I will have a new place to call home. Finally! The location is great (old city) and right next to the metro and all kinds of shops and restaurants, the place itself is updated and large, but I might go broke trying to pay for it. If you visit over a weekend, you might find it a little loud, because the cathedral is just outside the windows, and they tell me Sunday mornings are full of bells clanging. But I will miss my old, burned up terrace. No lake view this time. Perhaps that will make me more appreciative every time I see it, instead of having the great view every morning. Anyway, I'm just glad to have a nice, new place of my own again. The process of settling in will start all over, but hopefully it'll be quicker this time.

Finale: This Thursday, my parents arrive! They will be my first visitors, which is most fitting. The Thompsons will be in town for around a week, and we have no major plans other than to just catch up and enjoy the city. Unfortunately I have no apartment to offer them board this trip, but I was able to find a recommeded hotel with a full kitchen included that is very close to where I'm staying now. My dad sent me this picture a month or two ago from the day he and his scout troop left for Bisset, Manitoba. I liked it quite a bit, but didn't really have anything to do with it...until now!

One last note: as we were sitting in the audit room this week having a team meeting, someone cracked on North Wilkesboro (clearly they didn't know I am not from there but from Wilkesboro). But as it turned out, of the 8 people in the meeting, fully 50% had been to the Wilkesboros! Four random people, of three different nationalities, in a single room, in Switzerland, at the same time...had been to my little hometown, population less than 10,000! What a world!

Catching Up

Quite a while since I've given much of an update, so here goes. You may want to grab a cup of coffee (tasse du cafè)...noir...because this post could run long.

Four weeks ago this Monday, I was returning home from work early to begin a virtual training about income taxes at 4:30pm. It was being held in the US, so the timing was a little weird and I had planned to use the faster and more reliable Internet connection from the new apartment instead of sticking around at Philip Morris. To my complete shock, the entire block was roped off, and the fire department and police were covering the area. I looked up to see dense gray smoke billowing from the roof of my apartment building (see previous post newspaper article).

After stumbling through a couple conversations with police and random on-lookers (most of whom spoke little if any English), I found out that the fire was in the attic (fifth floor) just above my fourth floor apartment. And it was not pretty. Fire hoses were snaked into the building and up the many flights of stairs, and it seemed as if the water they carried was flowing out of the windows and doors from the top. At some point, the red clay tiles began flying off the building and cracking apart on the street below as the firemen rushed to get to the source of the fire. It was hot and humid that afternoon, and I was in my suit and carrying around me work bag. As we waited for more information and the hope of getting into the building at some point, there was nothing to do but stand in shock. I didn't really want to take that tax training anyway.

After a couple calls, I got in touch with my co-worker Valentin, who left work to come help me in case I needed some French skills at my side. A couple hours later, we finally understood that they thought the fire was out. I was allowed to go check out the apartment for damage and to take out anything that I needed. We stepped through water a couple inches deep on the first floor to get to the stairs which were wet and slippery with foamy ashwater. It was a mess. The door of my apartment was kicked in when the firemen were trying to get to the attic along with several neighbor's doors, so a locksmith was scurrying around trying to replace everyone's locks before the night. Inside, the ceilings dripped all over with more of the ashwater, and you could see little rivers flowing behind the plaster on the walls (which later dried, cracked, and opened up like sores). Plaster was hanging down, and much of my furniture was pushed to the middle of the rooms and partially covered with clear plastic. Someone else's chair was on my terrace. Firemen and inspectors came and went freely. My glassware lied randomly around the apartment and stairway after use by the fire-fighters.

Some of my clothes were wet or damp (I just use IKEA racks for hang up clothes because the Europeans don't have the concept of closets for some reason...maybe the same reason they don't slice pizza?), but we grabbed up as many as possible and carried them out to Valentin's VW Golf. Most everything else would have to stay for a while, but I did take some other things like pictures that I just didn't feel right leaving behind in such a miserable-looking place. Thanks to the clear plastic, all my electronics survived (I think...I haven't tried anything since then), and the damage to my bed and couch (two most expensive purchases since my arrival) was mitigated. Like most everything in the apartment, they will just require some deep cleaning. The water-logged matress is a different story though. I used the trusty iPhone to take the shot below of the roof after the smoke had cleared. My apartment is the one on the fourth floor (fifth floor to you anglos) to the right of the half moon-shaped stairway window. And the picture following is from later in the week after they had covered the gigantic hole in the roof with a green tarp and I got a peak inside the attic. Not a pretty sight. My neighbor's collection of 250 comics did not survive.

Thanks to the generosity of some other recently-arrived Americans, I had a couch to crash on the first night after the fire. Jon and Ashley Tirey had not even settled into their own apartment yet, but yet they still were nice enough to help out Mr. No Luck. After that, I was in the Hotel Bellerive for the rest of the week. Nice, and close to work, but it was getting more and more expensive (especially without the ability to cook any meals) by the day. So over the weekend, I moved into a co-worker's guest bedroom, and I've been there ever since. The arrangement and living out of a suitcase has worked out ok so far, but I am ready to have my own place again. And I'm sure that Matt is ready to have his place back to himself. The next couple weeks were spent in great confusion about insurance and what to do with my furniture and where to live next and who would pay for different things. Not to mention I still had work to do. And of course I could do very little myself without any French skills, so I had to constantly ask my co-workers to help me call someone or go with me to ask questions, etc. Valentin and Karyn have been terrific. I have no idea how I will ever pay back everyone who's helped me out these past few weeks.

I tried to close with a video of the apartment from the day after the fire. But after about an hour of trying to upload, I have given up!

Basel Zoo & Futball

Smok'em If You Got'em

The short of it is, my apartment burned down. The long of it is, the building is still standing, but there's extensive water damage to my unit. So I'm out of an apartment for 3-6 months. In the Hotel Bellerive this week and until I can find a temporary, furnished flat. I will post more about it later, but here's the page 3 article and one picture for now. You may remember from an earlier post that I was very happy with my new bed after sleeping on a one person air matress for a few nights. The bed itself was ok after all the water damage and mainly needs some cleaning (as most everything else does too), but the matress and sheets will have to go. In the article, my terrace is the one to the left of the one with the flowers. Just when I had the place just about like I wanted it...BOOM!

"I Am Not A Man; I Am Cantona!"

After my fourth trip to IKEA yesterday (don't ask - it's sometimes difficult here without a car, so you take what you can get), I'd planned all week long to try out Lausanne's open air theater. It's down literally right on the edge of Lac Lèman, and it's really terrific with the little beer garden area where there are different boothes for snacks and food, beer, sweet girlie drinks, Nespresso coffee, or your basic assortment of bottled drinks (suppose popcorn was available too). The seats are just card table chairs, but the screen and audio are very good. They played lots of dramatic movie tracks (think John Williams) as the screen raised up, so it really gave you the sense of being "at the movies," if you know what I mean. My friend Johnny from Charlotte would love it.

I'd been excited about this all week, because Into the Wild was the featured film. It's based on a true story of this Emory kid who graduates college only to shun his trust fund family and strike out on his own adventure ending up in the Alaskan wilderness (e.g the "wild"). It's a mixed bag, as he ends up getting himself killed in the end, but a very good flick. Also, the soundtrack is completely comprised of original Eddie Vetter (from Pearl Jam fame) tunes, which would've been awesome on the theater's speaker system.

Problem was: I was so excited about the movie that I apparently completely overlooked the date. Turns out that Into the Wild is playing Monday night, not Saturday night...something I didn't know until I was sitting there and the movie actually started with some random scene I didn't remember. As the intro credits began, the title Looking for Eric flashed up on the screen. Being the eternal optimist that I am (?), I immediately was comforted by the fact that the movie was in English. Turns out, it was British English with Manchester accents, so I still only understood about 80% of what was said.

The movie was not bad. It covered a divorced, middle-aged postman who has this teenager-like admiration for former Manchester United footballer (soccer player) Eric Cantona, constant troubles with his unruly step-sons, and layers of emotional distress from leaving his young wife and baby thirty years before. The crowd definitley thought it was a comedy, based on its frequent outbursts, but the un-American English must have prevented me from seeing it this way. Not to say there weren't funny parts, but if you've ever watched PBS you've seen that the Brits view comedy a little differently than Americans. The funnier parts relate to the main character's hallucinations of Eric Cantona, who visits him at his lowest points and remains the constant philosopher and cheerleader..."Say 'non' like a Frenchman! Non!"

I will give Looking for Eric three out of five stars and would recommend it. Though I would recommend Into the Wild even more.