Cold-weather Holidays

I bet you thought the title of this post was some sort of politically correct, non-denominational way to title a Christmas post. No, this post is really about Thanksgiving and Christmas. And this year I celebrated Thanksgiving in December. I hope you all saw the beginning of my Thanksgiving story (at the end of this post). Well, here's the continuation you have all been waiting for. Here we go:

So I went to the refrigerator and opened the door, and I saw the turkey, wrapped in plastic, thawed, and ready to go! The best part was that it was only 2.8 kilograms, approximately 6.2 pounds. Definitely the smallest whole turkey I have ever seen.

Now this whole cooking thing was quite an adventure. First, it was the first time I had ever attempted to cook so many things at once and try to time them to finish together. (Thanks for the lessons over Skype, mom!) Second, it was the first time most of my host family members had ever had these particular dishes, so it was fun to hear their reactions. Third, the available containers to cook things in were not necessarily what was called for; I had to improvise a little, but it all turned out okay in the end.

The menu: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans. Plus an apple crisp that I made a day ahead. I don't know about the rest of you Americans, but I would consider this a relatively small Thanksgiving meal, which was on purpose. Even so, my host family thought it was a ton of food.

Unfortunately I don't know how to carve a turkey and before I could try, my host mom took some poultry scissors to the bird and cut it up into little pieces and put them in a bowl. Which is probably what my attempt at carving it would have looked like anyway. To make the stuffing, I bought a loaf of bread a few days before and let it harden, then cut it up into little squares. I don't think they have instant stuffing here. Also, upon tasting the mashed potatoes, my host family immediately noticed the little chunks of potato that were left my by hand-mashing technique. Apparently mashed potatoes here have absolutely no little chunks and are perfectly smooth. In fact, they are called a potato purée.

So. It was an adventure, and I'm looking forward to next year when I can celebrate Thanksgiving with my biological family and finally learn how to carve a turkey.

They suggested taking a picture of the whole table and then didn't acknowledge the camera.... Maybe they wanted it to look candid, I don't know.

The Christmas festivities were...extensive. On the 20th of December, we went to my host grandparents' house in Marly for dinner. They have a swimming pool--inside! Also, the room next to the pool was full of exercise equipment and had a couch with a projector for watching movies. It was pretty cool. We got there a bit early, so I ended up seeing most of Benjamin Button in German. One of the things about family gatherings is that as soon as anybody shows up, they have to greet each other person in the room separately. For most people, this entails a handshake or three cheek-kisses (starting on the left) or both, with a few words of greeting and small talk. At the beginning, this process is relatively simple, but as more people arrive, it can take a long time.

For dinner, we had fondue--not a cheese fondue, but an oil to cook little pieces of meat in. This was accompanied by mild Spanish rice (the grandmother is from Spain, but I doubt that she ever makes too much spicy food; the Swiss wouldn't go for it). After eating, we played cards. It was the same game that I learned how to play the last time this side of the family met, and I did better this time. The game was followed by caroling. It was fun to learn the Swiss German Christmas songs. Some of them you would recognize, like Stille Nacht (Silent Night) and O Tannenbaum (I think this doesn't need translation). There were also others I had never heard before. Unfortunately, we sounded terrible, but of course nobody minded. After this came the opening of presents. One little host cousin in particular was very eager to open hers, which was assuredly bigger than she was. I got some 75% dark chocolate. Intense. The reason we were already opening presents on the 20th is that there were many different groups of family that couldn't all celebrate together at the same time for a couple of reasons. First, if both sides of the family were included, you'd probably have to rent out Union Station or something. (My host dad is one of eight children, I think he said.) Second, one set of grandparents had divorced and remarried.

This would not be the first gathering. This would also not be the last chocolate somebody gave me. On the 24th, all the same people from the 20th came to our house, except it was a different set of grandparents. In order to fit all seventeen or so people, we had to move the couches against the walls and set up the outside table inside. We served raclette. It was delicious. If you have never tried this dish, you should. It involves melting cheese with various small vegetables or meat pieces and then eating it over potatoes or toasted bread. There's a traditional way of melting the cheese in a fireplace or something that I've heard about, but we just used special raclette ovens on the table. This was followed by another round of singing and present-opening. I personally like the German word for this: "auspacken." It basically means "to unpack." So it's like suitcases and presents are the same, except unpacking one can be a chore. I'll let you guess which one that is.

On Christmas Day, my host dad wanted to go to a museum in Fribourg and I came along. I suspected the museum would be closed, but he said there had been nothing posted on the website to that effect. We drove to Fribourg, and of course the museum was closed. So we went to a restaurant and got something to drink. I enjoyed a hot Ovomaltine. It's like hot chocolate but malty. Inside the restaurant was this funny tree with white bark. I'm guessing it continued on the next floor up.

Also, the weather was acting very strange. When we left, it was raining slightly. By the time we were approaching the city, it was a nasty mix of rain and snow and ice. On the drive back, the sun was shining, and upon arriving back at home, there was a thin layer of new snow on the ground. Weird.

We ate Christmas dinner with my host aunt, uncle, and cousins in Plaffeien. We had little homemade bite-sized pizza things before the meal, and then a savory pastry with mushrooms and sauce, salad, meat rolled up with saffron and some kind of tomato filling, carrots, pommes frites (which are sort of fancy here, not like in the US, hence my reluctance to call them French fries), green beans with bacon wrapped around them, about six different kinds of Christmas cookies, ice cream (bought in a log shape and cut into slices with a knife), fresh pineapple (served with one of those awesome pineapple corer things that makes pineapple rings), plus Christmas tea. A veritable feast!

This was followed by more familial festivities throughout the holiday break, but I'll save those for the next post.

Home, Sweet Home: Episode I

There it is: my house. Can you see it there, off to the right, all alone at the end of the road? And beyond, hills full of cows and trees, and then the border with Bern (the canton, not the city). Okay, I'll admit it. I did sort of set up the composition of this photo so it would look like we have no neighbors. We do have neighbors, but they don't exactly live next to us. Plus I have never met them. Anyway, there is it, the home of my first host family. I have been told that it originally was split into two living areas and housed two families: my host family and another one. One of my host sisters pointed out one of the previous occupants while we were on the bus. And I guess that sometime in the last several years, the house came to belong to my host family and they did some renovations. I think rooms might have been added, or some walls might have been taken out to create a bigger space downstairs. I thought you all would enjoy hearing about the place where I live. Instead of showing you photos (other than this one), I am just going to describe it. This is for a couple of different reasons. First, I have never taken any photos of the house. Second, I probably won't take any. It's not that photo-worthy. But this will be a fun description exercise for me. You guessed it, I am using my blog to try to keep my English up to par. I am going to have to use it next year, you know. I've heard that in college you have to write these things called papers.

Let's begin with the outside. As you can see, once the road passes our nearest neighbor's house, it turns into a gravel road, which narrows and turns into a gravel path which leads downhill into some woods and is actually part of the Swiss hiking trail system, which is extensive. Before the path goes downhill, there are some concrete stairs on the side of the house which lead to the front door. Yes, the front door is the one facing completely away from the street. I don't understand it either. Near the stairs is a giant woodpile covered with a blue tarp, which I assume will be used to heat the house in the coming winter months. Actually, let's just call them the winter months, since they have already arrived. Other items of interest on the outside of the house: the beehives that my host dad cares for, some random junk in a random shed, another random shed with bicycles and things like that in it, a big red collapsible clothes drying rack, the table we ate at when it was still warm outside, a red Peugeot, and a silver Honda. Yes, we have no garage. Song reference, anyone?

Let's move to the interior. The bottom floor consists of a mud room, my host parents' bedroom and bathroom, and the kitchen/dining/living room area. The mud room can be found right inside the "front" back door. Seriously, why is the door there? It still bothers me. So, the room: lots and lots of dirty shoes are either drying out on the floor or on the rack thing or in the closet thing. Also, there is a hanging fabric sort of round shelf deal with lots of winter accessories in it, like gloves and hats and mittens and scarves. This room is below the level of the rest of the bottom floor, so there are a few steps up to the hallway. Between the mud room and the hallway is a sliding wooden door and a chair. The door is usually left partially open to allow the three cats to come and go as they please through the kitty door that is in the "front" back door. I have always assumed the chair was there to allow the sliding door to be partially open without letting the dog into the mud room. Also, to dump stuff on.

As you stand in this hallway, the door to my host parents' room is on the left and the door to their bathroom is on the right. I'll skip the description for these areas since I don't go in there. Which brings us to the last room on this floor, which is really three rooms in one. The only division between the rooms is a sort of square pillar thing that's approximately in the middle. Next to it is a piece of furniture with the radio on top of it. This radio usually plays news in Swiss German, which I can't understand very well when it's radio quality, or traditional Swiss music like yodeling, accordions, or Lady Gaga. Preferably all in a row. But seriously, the radio music is weird here. Once I heard five songs in a row, the first of which was in French, the second of which was in Italian, the third of which was in English, the fourth of which was in German, and the fifth of which was an instrumental version of the Swiss national anthem. Also, part of the square pillar wall thing is a pull-out pantry area with several shelves that hold ingredients of all sorts. The only things I usually take from the pantry are the cereal, the chocolate powder, and the cereal bars. The honey also stays in there, along with some boxes of Swiss cake mix and bread mix and such that don't ever seem to be used. Also, there is Grillsauce, which is a universal sauce that my host sister likes to eat with meat. And Kätzchenmilch (Kitten milk), which appears to some sort of powder resembling fish food that, when mixed with water, produces something to be fed to kittens. At least this is what I am guessing from looking at the label, which has a picture of kittens on it. I'm not sure what this is doing here. I assume it's safe for human consumption, because my host mom sprinkled it on her food once. I don't think I'll try it though, as open-minded about food as I generally am. I try to stick to human food most of the time.

So here we are, listening to the radio and standing in the kitchen. It's basically a regular old kitchen. There's a window above the kitchen sink, a refrigerator which never seems to be all that cold, a stove / oven combo, some counters, and some drawers. The main thing that can be found in the drawers is Tupperware. Other things that can be found in the drawers are utensils for eating and cooking, dry pasta, spices, saucepans, frying pans, and plates. But in all seriousness, there are 2.5 huge drawers dedicated entirely to Tupperware. Even most of the cooking utensils are plastic and probably come from Tupperware as well. And if there's anything we're missing, no worries! Just throw a Tupperware party and order away! Yes, I once came home from orchestra at 11 pm or so and walked into the end of a Tupperware party. Everyone was sitting around the table, drinking coffee and ordering Tupperware. Apparently this is the only way to buy the stuff in Switzerland.

Another important thing about the kitchen is the fruit bowl. It sits on the counter farthest from the mud room end of the house (the counters form a U-shape). The best kind of fruit to grace the fruit bowl is the Clementine. Once the host fam figured out I like these, there have almost always been Clementines in the fruit bowl, for which I am eternally grateful. Clementines are probably among my top three favorite fruits, along with raspberries and perhaps fresh peaches. Dried apricots are pretty good, too.

On the other side of the fruit bowl counter is the table. It's in the corner of the house, and along the two walls next to it are continuous benches forming an L-shape. Along the other two sides of the table are a few chairs. Right now there is a blue tablecloth. Also, there is a perpetual stack of papers on the end of the table that is closer to the kitchen. This consists mostly of mail but also of newspapers and flyers and things. Sometimes I look through it and find my bank statements and such.

The other part of the bottom floor is the living room area, which consists of two sofas covered in blue fabric, which is covered in cat and dog hair. The cats like to sit on the sofas and the dog often sleeps there. The sofas form an L-shape towards the TV, which is next to the "patio" real door. This door is also not facing the street but opens onto the area with the cars and beehives and other table, which is why it feels like the front door to me. It's only a sliding glass door, though, and has no keyhole, so it's not as official-looking as the other one. My host family has interesting TV habits. They mainly keep the TV on the same channel, and they watch three main types of shows, as far I as can tell: American crime shows dubbed into German, soap operas from Germany, and news. Half of the news shows they watch are celebrity news, which is even worse than local news. And Switzerland is so small that even national news is sort of like local news, at least from the point of view of an American. So, needless to say, I rarely watch TV with them. Oh, and I forgot to say that in front of the couch facing the TV is a coffee table with sudoku books on it. My host mom is obsessed with sudoku.

So I just looked back and realized that this post is getting really long. I think that I'm going to stop it here and write about the top floor later. I hope you didn't mind the length. Although I guess that if you're still reading, then you probably didn't and the apology will be lost on those who found it too long and stopped somewhere in the middle. Now I've got two loose ends to tie up: this and the turkey thing. Let's see how many loose ends I can create before the end of the year. Then I could do a big "season finale" blog post and tie them all up and everyone would feel so satisfied. That could get confusing, though. We'll see.

Four Months Later: Snow and St. Nick

Greetings to all of you readers out there. I heartily apologize to those of you who were waiting with bated breath for the blog post that never came. Well, here it is, complete with yet another new form of multimedia for you to enjoy! Don't scroll down and look: that would be cheating. Just keep reading and you'll get to it. I promise. This blog post is dedicated to Mrs. M. Ash, who told my mother I needed to update my blog, who then e-mailed me to that effect.

Yesterday was the four-month anniversary of my arrival in Switzerland! This means I have already finished more than a third of my "year," which is actually more like eleven months, since I arrived in August and will leave sometime in July. I've been pretty busy lately, which might explain the lack of frequent posts, but no worries, you will be filled in. Photos will be included. And I have the feeling it won't all fit into this post, because I don't have the stamina to write that much in one sitting and I doubt you have the stamina to read that much in one sitting.

Let's pull a Mr. Jones history experiment (Mission Valley, anyone?) and start with the most recent events, working backward. Okay, so I just ate dinner. Before that I rode the bus home and before that I went to a glasses shop in town and had my glasses adjusted for free, which I had thought impossible in the Land of the Swiss. Before that, I went to the library, and before that I practiced piano at school. And before that, I ... well, you get the picture.

Speaking of pictures, let me share with you a side-by-side comparison of a photo you have seen before and a new one of the same subject covered in SNOW! That's right, we had our first snow a couple of weeks ago in Zumholz. I noticed a strange phenomenon that day: as we neared the city, there appeared to be less and less snow visible out of the bus windows. And once I was in the city, there was no snow at all accumulated on the ground and I had to deal with precipitation in "winter mix" form. It was nasty. I guess Zumholz has a slightly higher elevation than Fribourg; it's tucked away in the pre-pre-Alps. So, the beehives in summer...and winter. I love snow. Good thing I picked Switzerland, right?

And here's one of my house I took during my early-morning walk to the bus stop, which explains the darkness, despite DST:

Last weekend was an eventful one. There were two events, in fact: the festival of St. Nicolas, and my belated Thanksgiving adventure. St. Nicolas is officially on December 6, which was a Sunday, so the festivities in Fribourg took place on the 5th, a Saturday. Not much ever takes place on a Sunday here. Anyway, I went to the St. Nicolas thing on Saturday with two girls from my class, Coline and Fitore, and an American exchange student, Katelyn. It was pretty chilly but I barely noticed because it was so crowded that I felt like I was huddling with the entire city of Fribourg to keep warm. We started off by Collège Saint-Michel, where the parade began. It consisted of a walking choir wearing some black epic costumes and in some cases carrying candles, followed by another walking choir wearing orange and red epic costumes, followed by St. Nicolas seated on his donkey plus his entourage of minions, who wore black robes, had their faces painted black, and carried switches which they supposedly use to beat children who have been naughty. (The nice ones get chocolate, clementines, and peanuts.) It was a little like the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on a smaller scale, what with the Santa character ending the parade. St. Nicolas threw gingerbread squares to outstretched hands. I snatched one off the ground and shared. It was delicious. And I was definitely obeying the 10-second rule because I guarantee every gingerbread square that fell to the ground was snatched up well within the space of ten seconds.

These were the parade members with epic orange and red costumes. Notice the decorated tree in the background.

Here's a closeup of the same decorated tree, a little later when it got a little darker. Nice, eh?

From Saint-Michel, we made our way through a "shortcut," which at least a third of the people there were also taking, to a crowded street further along in the parade route. We watched the same parade go past again but failed this time to get any gingerbread. Then we walked in the direction of the cathedral from which St. Nicolas would address the crowd. Unfortunately, we were a bit too late and ended up around a corner from the cathedral and couldn't see St. Nicolas. We could hear him, though, due to a lovely microphone setup. At least, we could hear his voice. It was a bit tricky to understand, though, for whatever reason. The speech was in French and German. This St. Nicolas had a terrible German accent. Clearly a native French speaker. I'm guessing he made some general remarks about the state of things in the world, etc. Every once in a while, there was a cheer from the people closer to the cathedral, so I'm assuming they could hear him better. After the speech was over and the crowd dissipated, we went and drank more cinnamon tea (black tea steeped with cinnamon stick). It's delicious. You should try it sometime. Then Katelyn and Fitore and I went to a restaurant and ate fries and sat around and talked for a couple of hours while Katelyn and I waited for our buses.

Here's St. Nicolas and one of his entourage, who actually had red eyes until I took the Picasa Redeye tool to them. This is a red-suited minion, not a black-suited one. Those were harder to photograph due to low light conditions.

Okay, I think I'm running out of steam. The Thanksgiving story is going to have to wait until next time. I'll give you a cliffhanger if you like, though. Then it would become really great episodic literature.

I had been wondering where exactly the turkey was. I never knew for sure whether it was frozen or fresh when purchased. All I knew was that my host mother had to go to five stores before she found one. About an hour before I wanted to start cooking, I ventured out and asked of the turkey's whereabouts. "It's in the fridge," they said. I asked if it was thawed. Affirmative. So I went to the refrigerator and opened the door, and I saw....

There's your cliffhanger. Don't you just love them?

And I know you've been thinking this whole time, what about the special multimedia thing? Well, here it is and it didn't come without hard work. I recorded myself playing the piano in the auditorium at school, which is where I practice since there is no piano at home. I apologize for the sound quality. I recorded it as a voice memo on my iPod. Once I got a recording I was happy with, I had to figure out how to get it into my blog. It took me a couple of days, and this is what I did: I changed a setting in iTunes and used it to change the file to mp3 format, then used a free file-hosting website to upload the file to the internet and give it its own url, then found the code for the Google Reader media player and pasted the mp3's url into the code. And here it is. If you just skipped the last sentence, I don't blame you. I wish I could have skipped it too.

This is the sixth movement of Brahm's Fantasies for Piano, Opus 116. It's an intermezzo.

Brahms Intermezzo Op. 116 No. 6