More Than Chocolate and Cheese?

Today has been one of those days when strangers just need to talk to me. And, you guessed it, it's on and around trams once more. I could direct you here to my previous blog entry a few months ago entitled 'Freaks on a Tram', but they were pretty alright ones today, not quite as creepy as the hand toucher or the telephone impersonator.

It all started when I was waiting with a bin bag of my clothes (to put in a charity drop off bin, I might add. I'm not really in the habit of walking around with my clothes in bin bags just to let them see the sights.) at a tram stop in Claraplatz. A man of some ethnicity came and sat down at the seat right next to me, that was- in leymen's terms- close enough to assist with back scratching. Gross. There's not many people I appreciate sitting that close to me. He started pretty casually. Here's our dialogue.
Him: Hoi
Me:...
Him: Es ist kalt, ja?
Me:...Ja.
Him: *insert German here* (I didn't understand)
Me:....*awkward smile.*
I proceed to rummage in my bag so I don't have to keep talking. I bring out my rather ratty looking Samsung and start playing scrabble.
Him: Nett Handy (Nice phone) Wie viel kostet das? (How much did it cost?) *makes a gesture insinuating richness*
Me: Es war nicht so viel (It was not so much)
Him: Bist du allein? (Are you alone)
Me:.....
Him: *insert German here*
Me:.....
He then proceeds to walk off and stand at other side of the tram stop. Times like this, wish I walked around with a ventriloquist dummy. No man would try to pick me up then. I mean, seriously?? I was literally wearing my hair in plaits, no make up, and a distinctly unappealing outfit as I've already packed away all my clothes.

The second situation which I found myself in was a bit less scary. I was on a different tram after dropping off my clothes and, anticipating that there would be numerous elderly searching for a seat and not being bothered with standing up once seated, I was preemptively standing for most of the journey. Eventually it had emptied out so I sat down next to a middle to older woman. I was singing along to 'Baby It's Cold Outside' in my head, while my Ipod piped Jessica Simpson/Nick Lachey into my ears when she started talking to me in rapid German. Here's our dialogue:
Her: *rapid German*
Me:.... Ich verstande nicht. Sprechen sie Englisch?
Her: Yes. I was saying you look just like somebody I knew.
Me: Oh really? Thanks!
Her: With the hair like that...and the hair colour, and the way your face is
Me: Thank you?
Her: It is somebody I like very much
Me: Oh, at least it is not someone you hate.

She proceeds to discover where I am from, if I am living in Switzerland etc, and then hands me a CD rom from her handbag which is entitled More Than Chocolate and Cheese and says, you can learn more about Switzerland on this.
Upon later inspection: it features a 40 minute documentary about Jesus. I have been...Jehovah Witnessed. I wonder if I looked like another Jehovah's Witness...there's a worrying thought.

In other news, I finished my final day of this job here on Wednesday and it feels really weird to be through with it all. It hasn't really sunk in yet that I will never be returning there. I also have paid all my bills at last, with some very generous loaning from family and friends. And I have de registered as a resident so for this last week, if anybody official asks me,  I am meant to be saying 'I'm just a tourist.' Maybe I will wear a tie-dye t-shirt, and a camera strung around my neck and get in the way of trams by trying to take the perfect Munsterplatz shot. That would be fun.

I have had an action packed few days since I last wrote and there have been a couple of highlights. First of all, on Wednesday I procured a free 50fr voucher to spend in Mr Pickwicks. I won it on the radio...such a cool prize. It was a fair contest...after all, we all know I don't work on the radio at all. Ever. Anyway, after some pleasant afternoon shopping to celebrate my freedom with my friend Sarah, we went into the pub to have some delicious, and familiar food. I found myself uttering 'Bliss' in a way that would make my mum proud when I was sitting in front of a fireplace, with a huge Union Jack hung up behind me, feasting on Bangers and Mash and Magners Cider. Heavenly.

I also met up with my friend Oonagh yesterday morning to say goodbye. We had a lovely trip to Starbucks and, like Muslims to Mecca, we flocked into the warmth of H+M once more. If ever I could've married a shop, it would 'ave been H+M, Mr Frodo, it would 'ave been H+M. Well, hello Samwise possession...


Last weekend I got to go to one of the places I've wanted to go to since arriving in Switzerland. I went to Luzern. And it was so beautiful with all the gorgeous lights, and snow, and all the many bridges you could cross. Sitting in the pub was also gorgeous. With a big plate of nachos and a warm, well lit, laughter filled pub and some excellent company. It was a lovely day. It's a shame I didn't get to go on more trips to more cities. But I'm glad Luzern has been checked off my list.

My current problems: how can I accurately tell if my suitcases weigh less than 20kg if I do not have access to any working scales?? I've been lifting bags comparatively like a pretty crap body builder, trying to figure out whether it's heavier than other times in my life when my bag was over weight. And honestly, I think my bags are alright. But then next Wednesday I will get charged with 200 extra francs for having a bag that literally weighs 500kg. Could happen.

Also, is it pretty sad to spend my birthday alone, slipping on slushie ice and trying to cart three massively heavy bags alone on two trams and a bus to the airport?? I'm thinking it's pretty tragic. And difficult. Will I survive it? Time will tell.

It's the Most Wonderful time of the year....if you're a stinky plant

As the end of November rapidly approaches, like a lion with a deer's hindquarters in his periphereal vision, so do the spectacles of the Christmas season start to appear. There is much of it that is so delightful, and the Baslers have really done a superb job of decoration with some really classy lights spread over all their shop fronts, and the streets so beautifully lit up. Plus, last week giant Christmas trees were deposited throughout the region, ready to be hung with cheer.

Tomorrow the Christmas market is starting up here and it's quite exciting to go to a genuine German market, rather than an imitation one in the U.K. Perhaps the coolest thing in my opinion though is the WunschBuch, or wish book, which is being set up in the town hall, for locals and tourists alike to write down their wishes for the future, their Santa lists, or just their general thoughts. The temptation to dedicate an entire page to me, myself and I, is pretty overwhelming. A word of caution to myself, don't give yourself too much free reign...who knows where your terrifying mind will take you! Such a lovely idea though, everybody should get to write in a wish book!

Of course, the Santa Claus equivalent for Switzerland, Nikki Nacki, is coming to town the 6th December so the children will be all sugared up and ready to go mental even earlier than they would be at home. It's interesting how the celebrations differ.

I found myself yesterday being a bit of a street cynic. There I was, rushing to Starbucks for an hour of my much loved me time, where I indulge in reading something on my Kindle, having a coffee, and usually some sort of pastry and enjoying the free Wifi for checking my emails. It's my Tuesday afternoon tradition. As soon as I got off a tram, a woman clearly addicted to drugs, struggled over to me to beg for money. I wasn't about to give away my last francs to an addict when I myself was basically unemployed and, if not for kind friends, would be homeless. I shook my head no and rushed on. Next, a man tried to get me to do a survey about something. I just couldn't be bothered trying to say 'I don't speak German' so I just ran past him to. Eventually I got into Starbucks and had my blissful time as normal, but my mood soured a bit when I was once more back on the streets. This time an entire family, I think they were Spanish, were singing some music together while the father played the guitar. Now, why do people think that children singing automatically renders a tip?? There was this one child in the family who had the most horrible nasal tone of voice who was murdering the song. If it had just been the father singing I might have tipped them, he had a lovely voice like an acoustic Enrique Iglesias but I just didn't want to tip them because then they would have assumed it was because a child was singing and I didn't want to award a lack of talent. I felt like Simon Cowell. She just didn't have the X Factor. Gimicks don't impress me much, or Shania either.


Last Friday I went out to Paddys with my Hungarian friend Rita. We wanted to go to the nightclub. We arrived at 9 something and enjoyed a drink or two and talked to some people. Then we decided we would go outside for five minutes to get some air. In the mean time the bouncers had arrived. So we need to go through them to get back in. One of them asks me for ID. Bit unusual but I hand it over. He looks in confusion at it so I say 'It says I'm 21. I'm 21' thinking to myself, I'm legal in every country! Then he says 'Sorry, you have to be over 23 to come in.' What??? What sort of a stupid cut off age is 23?? Furiously we stand outside, watching everybody else get in no problem, majorly annoyed that if we hadn't gone outside, we could have gone straight into the night club no problem. We contemplated whether someone would help us climb up the wall in through the smoking room, without getting caught by the bouncers. We saw some blonde girls standing smoking. We go over and Rita asks 'Can we borrow your ID?' They instead give us an idea. Handing our coats and bags over to the girls inside, we tied our hair back and marched towards the bouncers in our bare arms in one degree temperatures. Looking casual, we saunter around the queue and say 'We just stepped out for a minute, can we just go back in?' They reply 'New policy, you have to re-queue' No mention is made of previously seeing us there, or us being 'underage'. We queue. When we reach the front, we are waved through no questions asked, to the tumultous anthem of 'Celebrate, good times, come on!' Laughing hysterically, we are set to enjoy an evening full of Fake Gyllenhall, coincidental Hungarians, hair touchers, fights and lots and lots of shouting of 'Cheers!' What a good night. This Friday: me and the girls are going out again. 

On the radio, we were all in hysterics over, amongst other things, puppets and stinky plants because, that's right, Basel is the proud owner of the world's biggest and most stinkiest plant. Apparently it smells like rotting flesh. Delightful. Must pay that one a visit!

In other news, I had such a relaxing shower this morning that by its conclusion, I literally felt like that Buddhist monk who meditated for so long that his legs simply dropped off. He is real. Look him up. So is the guy who is responsible for dressing street gods in their day time clothes and night time clothes in their little box. 'Do street gods wear pyjamas?' The title of my autobiography, coming soon to a back alley near you.

I'm just soaking up the last few weeks of my time here, which feel like they are passing by as fast as seconds. I'm majorly gutted to be leaving so many great people here before I've really had a chance to see what Switzerland has to offer for an entire year. Plus it's an absolute nightmare of a headache to try and cancel stupid obligatory health insurance and if I wasn't leaving then I wouldnt have to cancel it...but on flipside, would have to keep paying it. Hmmm...okay, maybe it's not so bad to try and cancel it.

I wish I wasn't stressed out about terminating my employment early, cancelling health insurance, baggage allowances, de-registering as a citizen because if I wasn't, I'd be able to completely let loose and go mental for these last four weeks- four weeks today actually aaaaah what??? Even so, I'm going to let loose. No flipping way am I going to work that last Monday and Tuesday. Nosiree, definitely stopping work the week before. I have to seek assurance from important people in my life that I am allowed to let someone down. I am, right? They fired me! Left me up Shizzstream without a paddle! I can not work those days, yeah? I don't really feel like getting insulted by two children as my last memories. There's places I'm dying to travel to before leaving...

a trip to Lucerne is on the cards, pleeeeeease yes let it happen!
and a trip to Bern hopefully
and a leaving party? I feel like I want to say goodbye to people, but can't be bothered organising an event if nobody is actually going to show up. There's probably only about five people who actually want to say goodbye to me here and they probably know who they are.

I definitely accidentally threw a glass of water at myself today. Perfection. Billy Joel was standing in the corner of the room, as I desperately mopped up the mass of water in soggy socks, gently strumming his guitar and singing 'She's Always a Woman to Me'. And he was right.