Freaks on a Tram

Coming this blog post to a computer screen right in front of you, I bring you Freaks on a Tram...from the maker of some extreme social faux pas and some pretty entertaining blog posts, be afraid.

Nobody is safe on the tram. Well, that's a bit drastic. I'm not that safe...but that's because I seem to attract absolute weirdos! No offence to any of my friends, I don't mean you guys!

It's not so much that I never feel safe on the trams. I do normally. Just in the past few days I've encountered a strangely high proportion of slightly bizarre people ranging from the odd quirks to the full on creeps.

Anyway, as you can see from my rather brilliant (I know, it's terrible!) film poster to the left, you get all sorts! And there hasn't been a man with a roast chicken on his head chasing me or anybody shouting 'Here's Johnny!' as the poster would suggest...although the chicken chaser would actually be pretty hilarious...

So, I will briefly incorporate my top three creepiest encounters into a rhyming song (you can make up the tune yourself!) Don't I spoil you all? ;)

On Saturday, to my dismay,
I seen a somewhat normal boy
He took to grinning at me there,
And acting mighty coy.

Unfortunately, I did there see,
A constant sniffer of armpits,
As between his smiles to me,
He really sniffed with true grit.

On Sunday afternoon
A man came and sat beside me,
He decided it would not be weird,
To try and reach to touch me

He pointed at my hands, my face,
He made a scary sight,
He asked 'Warum?' and pointed
And really gave me quite a fright.

On my walk home, to my surprise
A group of men I saw there,
They were gathered into a group,
And made noise without a care.

To my chagrin,
A chime did begin,
They made the sounds of a telephone,
And really made me wish for home.

I don't know why, but it seemed less psychologically damaging if I made it a song instead. :-/

In other news, as is the tradition of my blog, I'll give you a run down of my latest happenings and events.

On Saturday, I went to visit my friend Kevin in a city called Aarau. The train there was pretty uneventful although a weird man did sit next to me and try and chat while loudly slurping his red bull. Great. We did all the sights (well, what we could see through the downpour) and wandered through a jumble sale where Kev tried to buy some binoculars from a big box only to be told by the man in a weird broken German/French language that 'These are mine. You can't have them.' We went out for pizza and strolled around with a rather malfunctioning umbrella.

It was a lovely chance to talk, and I can just talk to him for hours without stopping (much to his annoyance). It's so nice to have made such a good friend already in a new country. Plus, he's an Irish lad so we don't have any language barriers. Maybe just a sarcasm one. He's also such a gentleman, he was kind enough to pay for things and to hold an umbrella over me- have I mentioned before how much I love people being gentlemen- they're my favourite kind of men species!

There were some funny sights to be seen. A man dressed as a bear who gave out honey in exchange for cuddles...and money- typical Switzerland! There were a whole group of people playing bongos just for fun-sies, and I wondered whether they might have been a cult. I confronted my fear of freight trains and we just generally had a fabioso time!
 
On Sunday, I went for a lovely walk in the morning- there's nothing like listening to Johnny Cash as you walk towards France to clear your head. The dog and I were both wrecked afterwards though. 

In the afternoon I made my way into Paddys for my first ever taster of a Gaelic Football match. It was a nice chance to just chat with all the Irish crew and just generally have a merry time of things. It wasn't quite the 12 hour situation of the Sunday before but it was a good afternoon/evening. The BILL society was formed, I learnt the rules of a new sport, and the drink was flowing merrily.

Today, and I will leave you with this anecdote, I discovered that the little girl has two girlfriends and a boyfriend who regularly ring her on her toy mobile phone. It's funny how accurate she is. The girls are really needy and keep ringing her and then she groans and is a bit of a man about things...anyway, I asked her what her boyfriend was called earlier and this is the conversation we had:

Me: Who was that on the phone?
Her: My boyfriend
Me: Oh dear, is he ringing you again?
Her: Yeah...lots
Me: What's his name, anyway?
Her: FizzyMan
Me...WHAT???

Fizzy man??? Where does she even get these things?? I am a little concerned about her polygamous bisexual imaginary world though, I must say...

On a lower point, she also got knocked off her bike by a ginger boy with ADHD... nicht so spass!

So the moral is: Stay away from freaks on trams...and from gingers with a shifty look.

Son of a (gun)preacherman

Hello, my dear readers, known and unknown. First and the most foremost in all our minds, I'm sure, is that I got an adaptor! I'd like to apologise for my dramatics the other night as the next day I managed to procure a new charger in the next village over.

The last few days have been jam-packed (literally, they love jam here) and I have recovered a few lovely anecdotes from the recesses of my frankly terrifying mind which I thought I'd share with you.

First off the bat, everybody meet my new sometimes roomate, sometimes jogging companion: she looks like Lassie and acts like Nana from Peter Pan, barking the children into obedience, it's incredible to see her in action!

Now, let me think, anecdote wise. Well, of course, there's the incident for which this blog entry is named...that's probably a very interesting anecdote so we'll leave that to the end for y'all to sink your wee teeth into!

Something I forgot to mention in my first night's arrival, we stopped off at a farm for DRIVE THROUGH MILK!!!! You literally pulled up, filled up this huge milk containers from a machine of freshly milked milk and just paid in your coins. There were signs nearby with all of the cows' actual names included, it was AMAZING!!

In other news, I have now been on my first tram ride. Trams are pretty big over here and they are handy, they're like the snazzy hybrid between trains and buses. Now I have my very own tram pass so I can go go go when I like. Unfortunately, the first time I tried to get on one, with only a five year old for company, we saw a tram approaching and went to push the button to get on. Unfortunately a really haggish woman on a zimmer frame was getting off so we stepped aside. She then proceeded to shout at me in German. I smiled blankly and proceeded to push the button, only for her to yell again. Then she turned to the poor little five year old and said 'Does she not speak the language?' He was like 'No, she speaks English' and I was thinking 'Give me a chance, ya old hag, I'm trying to learn it!' then she proceeded to tell me what the problem was, apparently we weren't allowed on that one...who knew!

I had a truly magnifying moment, which I think has drawn the path for a new stage in my journey of womanhood...I sound like a queeratron... I heard the dreaded words after a 3 year old went to the toilet, 'I'm Fiiiiinished!' This being the first time I'd been alone in the house with them, I froze at the dishwasher. Uh-oh, time to face up to this. Luckily, circling through my head was the amazing song 'I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar!' and I felt like I really earned my stripes when I managed to get through the whole butt wiping thing without so much as a flinch...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGMESM8JKOg I was thinking by the end 'I am strong STRONG, I am invincible INVINCIBLE, I am WOMAN!

Oh yeah, I've been making a lot of indoor tents these days. Every morning I hear 'Today we make another tent?' The words were filling me with dread but I had a really nice time in our tent this morning so pegging all the quilts, towels and broom handles together ended up being all right. There's something to be said for the simple pleasure of cuddling a child in an indoor tent. Bliss. We also had story time in the tent, a three time rendition of 'The Princess and the Pea' because the pea part proved popular. After the story, I proved the rumours once and for all correct: I am in fact a real princess. I lay on lego and it dug right into my back, I was informed by the children in an awed whisper 'You arrrre a princess'. You betcha I am! I've only been waiting 21 years to hear those words! It was nice for a change that their arguments were only who got to lie on top of me and cuddle closest- either way I was a winner!

Another little game we were playing today was having smoke breaks all the time using the long lego pieces as fake cigarettes. It was really fun, particularly after a hard morning of getting towed around on a toy tractor by a child in a toy BMW...one point I will make, wearing a skirt on a toy tractor is NOT a good idea! There's no ladylike ways to fit longer legs! Even of a practical midget like me. Jokes...I'm not really per say a midget...I hope...

Anyway, the crux of this blog title was the hilarious little incident that I roped myself into. Last night at dinner, I'd been having lots of laughs with the mother and father here, plus some wacky Alsation region wine- stroooong stuff- so I was in a good mood. We all were. Plus, we were eating raspberries- practically heroine for me... so, he was talking about having to leave back a car he'd fixed to the priest in the next village who had married them and christened the children. He happened to mention a son of the priest and I was suddenly possessed by Dusty Springfield and sung out 'Was the son of a preacher man!' like an IMBECILE! Anyway, it came to pass that he was like 'Ohh, he's a very attractive boy, about your age' and a plan was formulated that I would just happen to be with him for the car delivery, as preacher's son was home alone. So, today, trying to look decent after a day of jam, paint and food debris being rubbed on me, but also having to dress for our long walk home from the next village afterwards, I went out in trainers and shorts like Sporty Spice.

He was lovely. Imagine someone tall and tanned and looking like he's just stepped off a snowboard...and add a really nice smile. Why??

I was a little bit mortified to be there but he was really friendly! It was said of me, as he firmly shook my hand (shame they're not cheek kissers here...), 'She's new here and from Ireland'. I wondered if maybe I should whip out a guinness or do a leprachaun jig or something to prove the point. I was hoping against hope that he might have wanted to hang out with me because it is a bit strange to hang around with toddlers constantly. I said in my most winning way (if I have one) 'You're the only person my age I've met here' and the dad, who tried his best to talk about me said 'She needs someone to show her around Basel' It was such an obvious invitation that I almost thought I'd have to wink at him just to finish the invite. Anyway, he smiled politely. It must have been a no.

Talking about it later, the dad was like 'Well, he didn't say no, did he?' and the mum said 'Guess we're going to church on Sunday so you can see him again.' Oh, my life, who'd have it, eh? Still, I wouldn't say no to him...