I Spent It All

So, I'm in Calgary now. It's really cold, and there's a bunch of snow on the ground, but yesterday I had Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers, and today I got to drive my own car. I have said good-bye to some amazing friends in the last week, but tomorrow I fly down to get Erin. I'm a lot further from anyplace that serves good fondue, but so far I've understood almost all the people who have tried to talk to me since I arrived.

Yeah, kind of strange.

As I was leaving Geneva, something happened that made me think of Derek - perhaps the only man I know who has more appreciation for a well-crafted analogy than I do. This is what it was.

I had 8.20 CHF left... all the rest I had deposited in my bank, or traded for USD, or gotten rid of some other way (like a roasted chestnut binge - I figured it may be a while before I get those again). I figured I'd get a sandwich and a drink or something at the airport. Well, I get past security, went to the sandwich guy, and looked, and most of his sandwiches were more than I had, just on their own. But he did have croissants, for 1-60 each.

I did the math... 3 croissants at 1.60 would be 4.80, which would leave me 3.50 for a coffee to go with them. So that's what I ordered. He gave me the croissants, gave me the coffee, and then told me the total: 8.50.

Oh.

I counted again to make sure and then just said, "uh, let's make that two croissants". He looked confused so I explained that I was 30 cents short. He just looked at me, kind of shrugged, and said "that's okay - no problem. " He took my partial payment, gave me the food, and I thanked him for being so kind and left.

And I realized that's a bit how I feel about leaving Geneva now... like I spent every last cent. I didn't run out while I was there - I had everything I needed, both to have, and to give, but I didn't have any left in reserve by the time I got on that plane. As hard as it is to say good-bye to the wonderful friends I have there, I've reached the end, and I'm ready for what's next.

It's going to be a pretty interesting few months.

Uncoordinated

The movers came today.

I have pasta in the cupboard that I was going to have for dinner, but my pots are on the boat.

No problem.

I have some ravioli that I can heat in the microwave. Or could, if I had my can opener.

I pulled a towel aside to keep it before they packed my bathroom stuff, but they saw it and packed it anyways. Thankfully, I had one in the laundry that managed to evade them.

I like my blanket - it's nice and fuzzy and warm, and I don't need a sheet with it. But it won't fit in my suitcase, so I had to either send it on the boat or leave it behind. It's on the boat. Hopefully, aforementioned towel will be dry by evening, because it's going to be doing double duty.

I kind of feel like having one of the special Belgian beers I had been saving for a special occasion.

Guess what's keeping the can opener company.


And it's only been 6 hours.


Oh well.

Fireworks

We went to see some fireworks, and I had my camera along, so I took a couple of pictures. I like these ones because they don't really look like fireworks to me... I kind of imagine them being stars and planets and solar systems.

I guess that Astronomy 101 in university is really paying off now.

You can see the rest here.

The Olympics

Ah, it's great. The French are showing Judo; the Germans, women's air rifle.

One thing that will not be difficult to leave is the European concept of what constitutes a sport that should be shown on TV.

[EDIT] The French seem to have discovered the error of their ways. They've switched over to dressage - horses with fancy hair, trotting in a circle. Now if that's not a sport that's truly in the Olympic spirit, I don't know what would be.

Good Bye

It's been kind of a tricky year.

I like Geneva... I like it a lot. Sure there are things that bother me: the language, mostly. The fact that I live, more or less, in a parking lot, frequently populated by people who take the "outdoor voice" concept to a bit of an extreme. Oh, and prices; but then, with store hours being what they are, that's not much of an issue.

But at the end of the year, I'm moving back to Calgary, and so it's added a distinct sense of season to my life that wouldn't otherwise be there.

It hit me, again, as I was wandering through Montreux a few weeks ago, from the train station to the concert hall to see Alicia Keys: this could be the last time I do this. The last time ever.

My last spring, last YAGS retreat, last birthday, last concert season... and the list goes on. Now, I know, it's not like I've been diagnosed with a terminal illness, but still - it's tough.

I've always had trouble saying goodbye. I have tended to kind of shut myself off, to protect my heart, and to withdraw well in advance of the actual event. And I'm trying like crazy to change that now, to live here, and now, and to be open and available and vulnerable, but it's getting tougher.

My heart and my mind are starting to turn to Calgary. There are some wonderful, wonderful things that await me there... some I know, some I anticipate, and I'm sure there are many others of which I have no idea, yet. But I don't want it to keep me from still being able to experience my last fall, last winter, last vin chaud, last roast chestnuts, last fondue on Swiss soil. First or last, I don't want anything to get in the way of what I am living today - the people I love, the things I put my heart into, the things that I will see and do and know that will never be the same.

Summer

Well, it's summer and it's beautiful out. And it's been a long time since I've written.

Sorry.

I know this doesn't excuse it, but I wanted to post some new pictures. I hope you like them - you can see the others here. Oh and a word of warning... there aren't many others. But there are some good ones in the pipeline. Next up is a set of the little chick at her adorable-est.

You Smell Nice

On the way home from feeding the ducks with the little chick today, I saw a guy driving by on a scooter. That's not unusual - there are a lot of scooters in Geneva. What was a bit odd is that, while he was driving, he was smelling one of those little paper strips that you put perfume on to test it.

I can't help but think that if your cologne smells good while you're driving along a city street at full speed, it may end up being just a touch strong for anyone who ends up in the elevator with you at the other end.

We Should Have Phoned First

There is a mountain (hill) near Geneva called the Salève. It's actually on the French side, but we like to think it's ours. You can go up it in a cable car, and everyone has told me for years how wonderful the views are over the city and the lake, especially at sunset, but I've never been.

I decided, though, that now was the time. First of all, this is my last summer living here. And second, I have kind of a special visitor, and I wanted to share it with her. So we got a picnic ready, headed off across town, walked through the border into France, found the entrance, and....

Closed.


Yeah, turns out that the sun sets at 9:30, and the cable car stops running at 7. Who came up with that schedule*?!? For the record, though, it was still a pretty nice sunset, even from the bottom.

C'est la vie.






* Not actually a rhetorical question - I think perhaps it was this guy.

Third World Country

Okay, I haven't really traveled in one, at least, not extensively. But I'm pretty sure that, if I did, I would find taxi service like Geneva's. I have taken taxis in a lot of cities, on several continents, and I have never encountered service as regularly poor (and often illegal) as I get in Geneva.

I just got home... and I left the office seven hours ago. Yes, it was in another country, but a close one (Germany). Due to a number of factors (none of which, it appears, were the airline's fault), my 7 PM flight was delayed, delayed, delayed, and eventually canceled... and we were all put on a 9:45-ish flight instead. So by the time I got back to Geneva and took a look at the train schedules, I had a pretty strong hunch that my client would probably feel like a taxi fare home was a reasonable trade for almost adding a second work day.

Today, I didn't have much cash with me (I've been carrying Euros), but, in general, I try to find a cab that takes Visa, even if I pay with cash.

"Why," you ask? Why, if I'm going to pay in cash, would I bother asking if they take Visa?

Well, it's because of times like tonight. I started at the front of the line of taxis, asking if they accepted Visa cards. Some looked at me like I was crazy. One man was at least apologetic... he didn't have a machine. But I had to ask more than a dozen cabs, all in a row, before I found one guy willing to actually pull out his Visa machine and drive me home. And this isn't in some back corner of the city - this is at the airport. This is the first impression people are getting of our city and our country.

And that impression, I can only guess, is not a good one. Switzerland, world capital of banking and finance.*

* Cash only

Maybe they're ducking taxes. Maybe they'd rather not pay the surcharge. Maybe they just hate people and have, somehow, chosen a job where they're in contact with them more or less constantly by some crazy mixed-up string of coincidences.

I don't know.

But I know this - I'd rather walk all the way down a line of taxis talking to every single one of them... in fact, I would rather have gone back inside and waited for that next train - then let them get away with it. Would I have walked home? That's a closer call, definitely leaning to the "no" side, but still - I am a pretty firm believer in voting with my wallet.

Come on, taxi guys. Maybe a little bit of time trying out the 20th century will help you get ready in case you ever decide to join us in the the 21st...

The Problem Is

... as far as I can tell, that "tres" is one of the worst words in French. It's phlegmy... sounds kind of like someone coughing up something nasty. And the unfortunate part is that it's also one of the most common.

And, as I watch the Euro Cup final, I realize that they are incapable of only saying it once. Nothing is "tres" whatever; it's always "tres, tres" whatever. Double the phlegm: gotta love that. And, while in English we have a whole range of words used to denote emphasis (very, extremely, notably, markedly, really, unbelievably, undoubtedly...), the French either only have one, or they don't let sportscasters use the other ones on-air. In fact, I've heard "tres" five times while writing the previous sentence.

The other problem is that Spain is winning. When the passed through the semi-finals, they drove around town (or, at least, my block) honking for 4 hours. Tonight... no one sleeps.

[EDIT] - Well, it's over. There were 11 second between when the game ended and when I heard the first horn. That's got to take some serious planning.

My Lucky Day

I am pretty hesitant to give up time with the little chick. I figure it's pretty important, because she's pretty important. I guess I could do more - probably have people come to look after her after she's in bed, but if she wakes up, I want to be the one here to give her a cuddle to get back to sleep.

So when I heard Gotthard was doing a free show in Geneva tonight (there were two nights of concerts planned as part of the Euro Cup celebration), I was disappointed that it lined up with when TLC would be with me. They're kind of like the Swiss equivalent of Aerosmith, or Bon Jovi (before he cut his hair), but not nearly as terrible as that sounds the first time you read it.

In fact, they're quite good.

I've wanted to see them for ages, but either they've been playing too far away at times I didn't want to travel, or the tickets were too much, or... well, something always came up. And for them to be doing a free show in Geneva was almost too good to pass up, but I was traveling last week, and was ready for a little daddy-daughter time.

So last night I had a bbq (or, I guess, it would be more correct to say I went to a bbq - I contributed nothing other than a bottle of wine and some witty repartee) with a few friends, and we planned to head down for the concerts after. To add insult to injury, there were a whole bunch of people walking around with Gotthard tee shirts on. Given my unique grasp of the space-time continuum, it registered that the concert was not on the night that I was free to go, but my brain didn't bother with any of the usual before/after kinds of questions that your brain might. I almost stopped one of them to ask how the show was.

Well, turns out that they didn't know yet, not because it was still a day away, but because it was happening later that night.

It also turns out that it was a lot of fun. They have some good tunes... most I hadn't heard, but a few were familiar, and other than a few drunks and a tall guy beside me who couldn't seem to keep track of his elbows, a thoroughly pleasurable experience.

And I don't know if it was just for this, or if it's for the whole Euro Cup time, but the show ended about 1, and there were still trams running! Bravo, Genève!


The only kind of sour part is that I've once again had it confirmed that concert security people are, mostly idiots. There were people trying to start a mosh pit. Did they do anything? No. There were drunks tearing through a crowd full of women and kids. Did they do anything? No (or, not until it got to the point of an altercation).

But every time somebody pointed a pocket camera at the stage? The security people were jumping up and down... waving their arms, crawling over the barriers to get to the offenders. I don't think they could have been drunk, which is a shame, since that's the only conceivable excuse they had, other than just being stupid.

Oh well. Rock on!

Hockey Vs Soccer

Reasons that hockey is better than "football":

1. Better snacks - you can get Wendy's in the Saddledome. No such luck at a football match. Who wants another sausage?
2. Football is sooooo..... slooooooowwwwww..... in comparison. It's not as bad as baseball, but it's really, really slow. Anyone remember the Simpsons episode? They were (as usual) right.
3. Diving. Or, you could say, Italians.
4. Long, greasy hair. What is it with that hair? Maybe hockey players have it, but at least we don't have to look at it all game long. Can one of you P&G people please get these boys a bottle of Pert Plus or something?
   
5. "Highlights". Since the Euro Cup started, I've been watching "highlights" of... well, shots on goal. Sure, most of them are kind of slow, and go straight to the goal-keeper. But they warrant a spot on the highlight film, and that's a pretty big red flag. Once again, confer with baseball: "he hit it and.... somebody caught it. Let's see that again in super slo-mo, Rob".
6. Fighting, or a complete lack thereof. See also: Diving.

Yet... I can't stop watching.


Rats.

Wow

Well, this is easily the worst thing I've seen in a long, long time.

Some background: "Nouvelle Star" is like a reality pop star training camp, in French. They have churned out some true trash over the last few years, but I think this one should be worth a nomination for some kind of award or something. Just wait until you hear the choral backup vocals on the chorus....




And yes, they are playing this on music video channels here. When you hear people talking about the fantastic, hot European music scene, I suggest you direct them to this; then tell them you'll never question anything they ever say again if they can keep it in their iPod's top 10 for a month.

Honking in Three Langauges

Finally, the Swiss have a reason to honk. They beat Portugal tonight, and even though they're still eliminated from the tournament, it's a good way to finish it off.

Way to go, boys - play hard to the end.

Football Makes Me Sad

Portugal won.

They are very, very noisy.

Switzerland lost.

The one team I was hoping would be able to make some noise.


Go, Sweden. Rah, rah, rah.

Kylie

So, I went to see her last night. It was a good show, but I must admit - for a concert, I felt a little out of my element.

It wasn't the music - that was pretty good. The staging was great, the costumes and choreography were incredible. I even had my usual spot (front, middle, on the rail).

I think it was that, as I looked around, it was just a different crowd than I see at most shows. I was sharing the spot at the front with a lot of other men, which I hadn't quite anticipated. And the vast majority of them had good tans, sleeveless shirts, carefully manicured facial hair and very expensive glasses. I felt just a tiny bit out of place.

In fact, I kept having these visions of it turning into one of those things like in a magic show where they need a volunteer, or at a comedy show, where the comedian starts to work the audience. I just imagined the music stopping, and the spotlight swinging directly to me, with a caption going onto the big screens: "Here's the straight one".

They would start to pepper me with questions to try to prove my guilt:

"Quick - spell Issey Miyake!"

"How does the Sex In The City movie end?"

"Where's the best place to go dancing in Geneva? WHERE?"

And I would just crumble under the pressure. I wasn't even sure what would happen then... would they kick me out? Make me wear a tank top? Or worse - get me to dance?

Yeah, I didn't know which direction it would go, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't be pretty. Thankfully, I was able to make it through without attracting too much attention.

Plus, I got a pretty cool tee shirt. And that, after all, is what concerts are all about.

Cow Wrestling

Yes, you read it right. It's a fascinating insight into Swiss culture, and it's on TV right now, complete with slow-motion replays of the cows digging in the "ring", standing side by side, apparently unaware that they are supposed to be locked in fierce combat, and wearing huge bells. It's like Sumo, but without all the rice-throwing.

I'm recording it, so if you live in Calgary (or Geneva, for that matter) you may, at some point, have the pleasure of watching it in all of it's "wow, did they really put this on TV?" glory.

And I'd like it to be noted and added to my cultural sensitivity score that I didn't put culture into ironic quotes in the first paragraph. I should be a diplomat, or something.


Oh, and for those of you unable to wait for the full version with slow-motion replays, interviews with the farmers and their families (none actually with the cows yet, but I'm keeping a close eye out), and what I'm sure is riveting commentary, you can get a taste here:

Speaking of Cameras...

Mine wanted to get out and enjoy the sun after work today. Here's what it found.

You can see the rest here.

Euro-Music

First, sorry - it's been a long time. I've been thinking about writing, but been pretty busy and a little bit sick. In any case, I'm back!

I played at a concert this weekend that was remarkable. Not remarkable in the way that going to see U2 is remarkable, though... it's a different kind of thing.

It was billed as a gospel concert, which, in some respects it was. But in some respects, it wasn't.

It was a lot more R&B than gospel. I know that gospel and R&B share similar roots, but that doesn't make them the same. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that Europeans LOVE gospel. You can pretty much do any kind of music you want, but if you call it gospel and encourage them to clap on all four beats, it's almost guaranteed to be a success.

The opening band (that I was playing in) was rather definitely rock. Not much of a gospel sound. Okay, we're only the support act, but I would say that if neither of the groups plays the style in question, it's probably not a good idea to bill the concert as that style.

But I'm nit-picking.

There were really a couple of things that I found interesting.

First is how popular R&B-ish kind of music is in Christian circles. Maybe I'm the only one, but this music mostly makes me think of making out. Not to be vulgar, but that's just what it sounds like. And you can put "God" in the lyrics, but it still sounds like that. This was further complicated by the fact that, during a costume-change midway, the headliner played a video of one of her tunes. It wasn't really very tightly lip-synced, had special effects that reminded me very much of the Bananarama or some such 80's band, and featured her dancing against a wall and looking a lot like she was coming on to me.

Now, granted, my senses in this respect may not be that highly refined. I'm still in training. But I'm pretty sure that's what she was thinking of when she was recording it. Normally, this wouldn't bother me so much, but the combination of "come here, baby" in her eyes and "God, thank you for saving me" in her mouth kind of threw me off.

The other thing is just how white and... well, European it was. And how very, very non-anglophone.

This is the kind of thing that's hard to really explain until you can experience it. Part of it is the aforementioned clapping on every beat. 1-2-3-4.... 1-2-3-4... it's just wrong. It's marginally less wrong than 1 & 3, but still... wrong. Still, I can't blame that on her.

The part that makes it feel most like this, I think is the lyrics. I wish I could remember better examples, but how about this line:

(blah, blah, blah, it doesn't really matter)
You are indescribable,
(blah, blah, blah... something that wasn't supposed to rhyme)
Your love is unwritable

Now, I'm not 100% sure that unwritable isn't a word. But I do know that it's not a word I would ever use in a song. The lyrics were full of little things like this that, while they weren't necessarily "wrong", just weren't.... right. The music was good, actually - she's a pretty gifted writer, but the lyrics certainly had the babblefish kind of touch to them. Things that don't really rhyme unless they're sung with an accent that it would never occur to you to sing with.

She wasn't helped by the fact that she had the lyrics put up on a screen beside her. Have you ever noticed how songs - even good songs - can sound ridiculous when you read them? Well, if you start with something a little less than bring-a-tear-to-my-eye lyrics, that effect is kind of amplified.

The other thing was the she had a projectionist who had an actual film projector set up in the balcony. The minute I saw the guy, I knew it would be trouble. Very French, very hairy, very, very artsy. Surprisingly, the film was a constant barrage of people, slightly out of focus, running off the camera, water running, and similar evocative but, let's admit it, rather meaningless things. There was only one point in the whole show that I noticed any kind of link between what he was projecting and what she was singing about. And that was not exactly masterful... she was talking about running to God, and he showed a woman starting to run... and tripping. Over, and over and over. And, of course, slightly out of focus.

Is this bad? Not necessarily, if that's what you're looking for. The down-side (besides what he was showing) was that, in order to satisfy his artistic needs, the lights on the stage were really, really low. So you could see water flowing, slightly out of focus, and the woman falling down, but you couldn't see the face of the singer.

Hmmm.

I feel exceptionally inept at describing this. Maybe it was a bad idea to even try. If you were here, I could try to distract you with a little dance or something, or I could make you some popcorn or tell a joke to make up for it. Actually, I'm not good at jokes, but I could make really, really good popcorn.

Oh well.

Can You Spare A Quarter

There are always people begging or busking outside the bank near my place. This is in a country where you can get a $1000 bill from an ATM, and $200's are so common you can use one to buy a pack of gum.

Hasn't it occurred to them that no one is going to be coming out of there with something small enough that they'll be willing to part with it?

"Hey, man, it's okay... I can make change..."