tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51883496676465831332024-03-06T03:03:33.481+01:00later, hosena year or two of living in the saanenlandlater, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-6471624447668546652013-07-30T21:49:00.000+02:002013-07-30T21:49:04.198+02:00re-entry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Lots of people have asked - "so, what's it like to be back home?" and I still don't have a clear answer.</div>
It's simultaneously great and weird, exciting and confusing. I feel both inspired and sad. In some ways, it's like we never left, but at the same time, I feel like a stranger in a strange land.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTjyTWxU4gqNvKWoKyYn3ZHRF4SkPn9zgnih3LIVoErQJG67UusvsBVi4IU_hCSIM2SV4g6oDj9kUkmil3v64pKhb9kW9cDuPvarqk395LGLZMrZRgOkjIoEmAj18J0QRhW-qPf6RwXLo/s1600/IMG_6571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTjyTWxU4gqNvKWoKyYn3ZHRF4SkPn9zgnih3LIVoErQJG67UusvsBVi4IU_hCSIM2SV4g6oDj9kUkmil3v64pKhb9kW9cDuPvarqk395LGLZMrZRgOkjIoEmAj18J0QRhW-qPf6RwXLo/s400/IMG_6571.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunset over the swiss alps</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have been surprised by the considerable research out there on "reverse culture shock" or "re-entry shock" pointing to the challenges in returning home after living abroad. There are lists of feelings that include sadness, isolation, disorientation and confusion among others. There are a number of different phases you may go through when you move back - honeymoon, shock, recovery and reintegration. Who knew? Not me, but apparently I'm not alone. <br />
<br />
When we moved to Switzerland, I was both prepared and excited by the idea that there would be a transition of sorts, but since we weren't moving to India or Taiwan, I was hesitant to even think in terms of "culture shock". Of course, there were challenges as we got used to a new country, a different culture and foreign languages. As we tried to build a new community for ourselves, there were moments of homesickness and loneliness, mix-ups and occasional frustrations, but for the most part, we muddled our way into our new Swiss lives with comfort and ease.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiAa2HdePSNCnz70_CXTrB3cjnLC1g_gnWNy-c-CmfBlE2ZlZynF8j14YMnYi6BnWr7K2n60IPYvYgeQyOY4nEBE3IEgqflNya5RoJ12-P5xcJ1g413kHkKXet4gi2fP6pqtPl6-7nTbm3/s1600/IMG_1740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiAa2HdePSNCnz70_CXTrB3cjnLC1g_gnWNy-c-CmfBlE2ZlZynF8j14YMnYi6BnWr7K2n60IPYvYgeQyOY4nEBE3IEgqflNya5RoJ12-P5xcJ1g413kHkKXet4gi2fP6pqtPl6-7nTbm3/s400/IMG_1740.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">sunset over georgian bay, ontario</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Coming back home has been much harder. The Swiss adventure that we planned and looked forward to is now over and I find myself a little bit in mourning. That party is over and even though I'm excited about a new one beginning here, it's a struggle.<br />
<br />
And we're only at the beginning of the adjustment. In theory, this should be the easy or so-called honeymoon part - it's summer and we've had an action-packed and wonderful few weeks in Georgian Bay, a place we all adore. The kids have gone to their beloved overnight camps without a hint of trepidation, keen to jump back in where they left off a couple of summers ago. But, there have been some bumps for all of us. Maybe it's a homesickness for our life we made in Saanen, maybe it's the trickiness of re-fitting our new selves into this old home. I suspect it's a combination of both and probably other factors that we haven't even figured out yet. <br />
<br />
The adventures of life continue...<br />
<br />
<i>We shall not cease from exploration</i><br />
<i>And the end of all our exploring</i><br />
<i>Will be to arrive where we started</i><br />
<i>And know the place for the first time</i><br />
<i>- </i>TS Eliot<br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com3Pointe au Baril, ON, Canada45.596550099999988 -80.38454619999998820.074515599999987 -121.69314019999999 71.118584599999991 -39.075952199999989tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-155085864248643162013-06-18T22:17:00.003+02:002013-06-18T22:17:53.531+02:00packing up is hard to doThat crazy literary giant, Dr. Seuss, once said "don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened". <br />
<br />
While I get what he's saying, there has been a lot of crying in our household lately. We can't help it.<br />
<br />
We are emotionally fragile - there are tears because we miss home, because we want to go home and because we don't want to leave. I well up every time someone asks me when we're leaving or how I'm feeling about going back to Canada. One of our children refused to help pack up her stuff last night and screamed "I'm not leaving here". Then there was foot stomping, door slamming and flopping into bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep within minutes. <br />
<br />
It's hard to wind things up, tough to say goodbye. It's hard to let go of a place that is special and so breathtakingly beautiful and has captured our hearts. It's not that we aren't looking forward to "going home". We are. We're excited to see our families and friends and begin our next adventure. There are so many things about returning to Ontario and settling into a new life in the Pretty River Valley that get us all fired up. <br />
<br />
We know that saying "see you soon" is so difficult because we've loved being here. I asked the kids the other night - "I know it hurts, but hasn't it been worth it?"<br />
<br />
So, Dr. Seuss, we are both smiling because it happened and crying because it's over. We think they go hand in hand. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMt6mlF1_3xPiuTd0f0tu0ghLfWwS-6NL9-Eql9Df9T3AnvwVhQ9ygaPQTEKDIMv-wvPNDKzd59t5wOKzfxXTdgekjosV_XFaTbcJFdaZ22W48-b5woJTrtlzY9hNVst0ne3LK4eJ_vkB/s1600/IMG_6586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMt6mlF1_3xPiuTd0f0tu0ghLfWwS-6NL9-Eql9Df9T3AnvwVhQ9ygaPQTEKDIMv-wvPNDKzd59t5wOKzfxXTdgekjosV_XFaTbcJFdaZ22W48-b5woJTrtlzY9hNVst0ne3LK4eJ_vkB/s400/IMG_6586.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com3Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705899999967246.3146257 6.9419823999999668 46.664390700000006 7.5874293999999676tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-45017611268397113052013-05-27T12:57:00.001+02:002013-05-27T12:57:47.904+02:00shit happensJudy Burgess always had a wise saying for every occasion. One of her favourites, "into each life, a little rain must fall" was quickly re-coined with her humoured blessing into "shit happens". <br />
<br />
Shit happened on 28 March when Jeff had a fall skiing on a foggy day in Sannenmöser. <br />
<br />
I got a call from him midday, "I've fallen and my leg is fucked. I'm waiting for help, but I have the car keys in my pocket, can you find a ride up here to meet me?" I could tell from his voice that he was in a lot of pain and that this wasn't going to be straightforward.<br />
<br />
The helicopter couldn't fly so he endured an excruciating toboggan ride down the hill and a twisty mountain road ambulance drive to Zweisimmen. A series of Xrays confirmed that he had severely dislocated his knee, fractured his fibula clean through and smashed his lateral tibial plateau. Later, an MRI showed that he had also ruptured his ACL, PCL, MCL and both meniscus. Never mind that he had not been hurtling himself down a hill at over 100km/hr or that he isn't racing World Cup these days. They told us the injury was similar to Lindsay Vonn's, but worse. It was a total blowout.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoJHoG6AOu82heO05p-46DtkS6CatQ61PPZjn9Hxq6lbtbU8y3Q_WdKe6ko8mymkz7ETCVXdRs8rvuicAx8Svv3TTn1eJl20pkrEzXd5efE0ZdIgZyGq6dkspltGupA-HTyxKg_IK2Glb/s1600/IMG_5892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoJHoG6AOu82heO05p-46DtkS6CatQ61PPZjn9Hxq6lbtbU8y3Q_WdKe6ko8mymkz7ETCVXdRs8rvuicAx8Svv3TTn1eJl20pkrEzXd5efE0ZdIgZyGq6dkspltGupA-HTyxKg_IK2Glb/s320/IMG_5892.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">before surgery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He was moved to the Inselspital in Bern and the orthopaedic team took great care of him. Four hours of reconstructive surgery and Ali nick-named him the <i>Swiss Million Dollar Man</i>. He's plated, bolted, sutured and wired. Much to their medical excitement, the surgeons were able to use a new technology to repair the ACL and his prognosis for a full recovery is good, albeit the time frame is long. Within twelve months, he should be walking pain free and without crutches or his fancy, carbon-fibre brace. If you ask Jeff, he'll be doing more than that. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XkhySnZcZJwM_jdanIGJnR8QI9usyO7KJIws6j0-sB4v3M7VnMTpk5bd7y3yymV4SpnD6k31BFncxp3Gp_lOB47tsdEBAgYC8gkO_SWJwHPvq_Qz5zpS92mVqHxJ4Bx4QRR5mmsYzCtE/s1600/IMG_5929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XkhySnZcZJwM_jdanIGJnR8QI9usyO7KJIws6j0-sB4v3M7VnMTpk5bd7y3yymV4SpnD6k31BFncxp3Gp_lOB47tsdEBAgYC8gkO_SWJwHPvq_Qz5zpS92mVqHxJ4Bx4QRR5mmsYzCtE/s320/IMG_5929.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">after surgery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The road has been long and there's still plenty to go. We know that it could have been much worse - a neck, head or back injury - but it has still been hard. Jeff is determined and committed to getting back on his feet, looking after himself and regaining his active life. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiwPcNt7Ysh6aEh7KyS0-F71miL5YKYhRLO07Gwvx9MLIoPo0CxMZlQWQce1B-FRCImj_Gfb5_XpdvG_h_VuKWkojRe483ViBcAyCMTDKyIKhG7kpSUVtexQ0CiN_UK92ERdPYofxDMwO/s1600/IMG_6146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiwPcNt7Ysh6aEh7KyS0-F71miL5YKYhRLO07Gwvx9MLIoPo0CxMZlQWQce1B-FRCImj_Gfb5_XpdvG_h_VuKWkojRe483ViBcAyCMTDKyIKhG7kpSUVtexQ0CiN_UK92ERdPYofxDMwO/s320/IMG_6146.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It isn't the end to our Swiss adventure that either of us hoped for, but if you're going to wreck your knee, Switzerland is a great place to do it. The six weeks he spent recovering here were full of wonderful care by his surgeons, home care nurses and physiotherapists.<br />
<br />
Now he's back in Collingwood and as the kids and I start to close out our adventures here, Jeff begins our next ones there. One step at a time....<br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com2Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705899999967246.3146257 6.9419823999999668 46.664390700000006 7.5874293999999676tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-42060667450369561322013-02-13T09:34:00.000+01:002013-02-13T09:34:03.195+01:00plumbing van<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I arrive, I see them. A father and son. My car
bounces in and out of the potholes in this makeshift parking lot. In the
summer, this is a farmer’s field and I wonder how the tractors navigate these
craters without damage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is a plumber, the writing on the side of his van gives it
away, but I can also see what’s inside. Each of the back doors is propped open
by a pair of skis. There are welding tools, putty guns, piping and an air
compressor. Everything is lined up and in its place – very Swiss in its
organization and tidiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are parked beside each other at the bottom of a ski
lift. The sun in shining and it’s what skiers call a “perfect bluebird”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Father and son are both hunched over, putting on their ski
boots. The father tries to jam his foot into the soft liner encased by a
hard plastic shell. He starts to fall over and he flaps his arms around
his body to re-gain his balance. The boot tips over on its side with his
toes still stuck in the top. With some flicking, his socked foot comes
free and he almost steps into the muddy puddle beside his van. This dance
is a familiar one. Years of practice getting dressed for skiing in
parking lots, on the side of the road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, they both get their boots on. When the father
stands back up, I get my first good look at him. I guess he’s probably in
his sixties, has grey hair and tanned skin. By the deep wrinkles on his
forehead, around his eyes and mouth, I suspect he spends a lot of time
outdoors. The son is maybe ten years old. He looks like a
younger version of his father, dark hair, round face and dimples in his cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am so taken with this scene that I am fiddling with my own
boots, taking a long time to get ready so that I can watch them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is little conversation between the father and son as they
go about getting ready, but they are both smiling. They each take their
poles out of the van and prop them up against their skis. The son’s poles
fall over and narrowly miss being run over by a car that’s pulling in. He
quickly picks them up and looks to see if his father has seen. His eyes
are wide, but he smiles when he sees that he's fiddling with something in the
back of the van and hasn’t noticed. They both put on their helmets, snap
the buckles under their chins. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ok, bist du bereit?” the man asks his son. <i>Are you
ready?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They share a smile and the son replies, “gehen wir!” <i>Let’s
go!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They close the van doors and the older man slides the keys into
his ski jacket pocket. He pats his son on the back and they walk together
towards the chairlift. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t really know
anything about this father and son, but they stay with me.</span><br />
</div>
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<!--EndFragment-->later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705899999967246.3146277 6.9419823999999668 46.6643887 7.5874293999999676tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-28819604065984366702013-01-24T21:38:00.001+01:002013-01-24T21:38:13.663+01:00getting aroundWe've been getting around. There's been plenty of skiing, ski racing, ski touring and snowshoeing going on here. We had an early start to the ski season, so early that Jeff had already logged 35 days on snow before he had to return to Ontario 3 weeks ago. He comes back home on Sunday and will no doubt re-start the tally that afternoon.<br />
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Graydon, Esmée and I (Eli was sick so he stayed home) went with some great friends to see the Men's World Cup Slalom in Adelboden a couple of weeks ago. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on our way over to Adelboden from Lenk</td></tr>
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We drove to Lenk and from there, skied over into Adelboden, arriving just as the first few racers took on what is said to be one of the most difficult slalom races on the circuit. The course is long, very steep and rock hard. There is something so incredibly exciting and inspiring about seeing the best in the world do their thing, no matter what it is. But, this being Switzerland and the thing being ski racing, the vibe was awesome, the whole place was fired up. We watched the first run from just below the start where we could see the racers live and then turn to the jumbotron to watch them finish the bottom section of the course.<br />
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In between runs, we were groupies. Outside the athletes' tent, we saw the Canadian men with their coaches huddled in a post race de-brief. It had been a rough morning for our men, with no one advancing to the second run. We (sort-of) respectfully hovered until we saw an opportune moment to barge in, say hello and ask for autographs. The kids planted themselves in front of the tent, wanting to see who else would show up and it was well worth the standing around. Graydon was so excited to get this picture, I thought he might explode.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ivica Kostelic with Graydon + Esmée </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">graydon, alex + harrison in adelboden</td></tr>
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The last time I went ski touring, it was a beautifully snowy day. We climbed the Walliser Wispile above Lauenen and skied thigh-deep powder all the way back down. Once we hit the snow covered road, we skied it, occasionally having to call out "car coming". Suddenly, our guide, Hansueli, veered off to the left and stopped. Claiming that we were at the barn of the best alpkäse (alpine cheese) in the region, he took off his skis and asked "who wants to go shopping"? ME!<br />
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Who doesn't love a shopping opportunity, especially an unexpected one that involves cheese? <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">park your skis here and shop</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a self serve, honour system -<br />the fridge is full of various ages of alpkäse</td></tr>
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My back has been very sore so I'm taking a break from skiing, but have managed to do some gentle walking and snowshoeing. Just outside the door of our chalet, there are hundreds of (marked) trails and summer roads (not cleared in the winter) to explore. A couple of the coolest things I've seen...<br />
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I never tire of seeing a Swiss woodpile - I swear to god, they are all this neat and tidy.<br />
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I came upon this colourful collection of bee houses. Bee colonies have been devastated in Switzerland and it's estimated that up to 50% of the bees here didn't survive last winter. I've been thinking a lot about bees lately and much to Jeff's disbelief, I have been threatening to become a bee keeper when we get back to Ontario. <i>Clearview Bee Farm</i> has a nice ring to it, no? <br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com1Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705899999967246.3146277 6.9419823999999668 46.6643887 7.5874293999999676tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-68771451610729900272012-10-29T14:59:00.005+01:002012-10-29T15:13:14.789+01:00saas fee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The kids just finished "half term", a week long holiday that gives everyone a break just when they are all getting settled into the routine of being back at school! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Driven partly by knowing this is our last go-around living here in Switzerland, but also by our love of all things skiing, Jeff and I decided to take the kids to Saas Fee. Quite quickly, our family getaway evolved into a larger trip that included Jeff, myself, Katja (a phenomenal ski coach) and a total of 11 kids whose skiing keenness matched our own. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">the group gathers in Saanen</span></td></tr>
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Saas Fee is a vehicle-free village. We arrived at the village parking lot, left our vehicle and loaded up all our gear into an "elektro" (kind of a cross between an electric golf cart and a small pick up truck or van). The kids and I wandered through the village to the Hotel Mistral where we were staying.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">jeff rides the elektro, loaded up with all our gear</span></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">The first morning, we were all a little jumbled. Sweaty and awkward, we juggled our equipment for the first time in months. Most of us wore our shoes and carried our boots. Rookie mistake. Not only did we have backpacks to carry, but also skis, poles and then heavy boots dangling over our shoulders, whacking everyone around us and sliding to the ground every few minutes. We staggered our way through two gondolas and then a metro (funicular) - a 45 minute ride that took us from 1800m in the village up to the "top top" where the glacier sits at 3500m. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">lining up for the first gondola</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">At the top and once we got on our skis, we all felt more "at home" and we were off...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">It was quite the scene up there. Among others, the Swiss, Canadian, French, Spanish, Finnish + Russian teams were training GS, slalom, ski cross, freestyle, boarder cross and even the Canadian para-alpine skiers were there. Everyone's heads were on </span>swivels, trying to take it all in (even me, I have to admit). Hard not to be impressed and inspired by the talent and hard work of all those athletes gathered on a single glacier where you could see almost everyone from any vantage point. Graydon carried a Sharpie in his pocket all week, asking who was who, darting off in search of autographs. A little shy at first, he made me come with him to say hello to some of the Canadian coaches. It's always a comfort to connect with people from "back home" and see the red maple leaf. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">Over the four days, we skied hard, did dryland training, tuned our skis, had meetings, explored the village, ate great meals, laughed and enjoyed each others' company, both on and off the glacier. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Back in Saanen, we were welcomed by snow flurries, turning our vibrant green valley into a winter scene. Perfect timing. Our local glacier opens back up this weekend and now, we are ready for the ski season...</span></div>
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Some other pics from the trip...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgCA2c0NOZE5Q7r92fdsoJRfkXmLeM_svj8fXwNzSpOwjt5kHbPyGw-dVQ90NcfvjoCtFAQnw-rmGlVg2A3VzxusZ9dvgkzACg_Ai6DDDr3-IvYP0FlCtB0Pm48yv79VD-FA9plBVpTvJ/s1600/IMG_4283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgCA2c0NOZE5Q7r92fdsoJRfkXmLeM_svj8fXwNzSpOwjt5kHbPyGw-dVQ90NcfvjoCtFAQnw-rmGlVg2A3VzxusZ9dvgkzACg_Ai6DDDr3-IvYP0FlCtB0Pm48yv79VD-FA9plBVpTvJ/s400/IMG_4283.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the village of saas fee</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dS_SLnANSajqdTejWpQHDiOje0cxukClSSxbGJUoWsCQbobkCwDFJxG1W0WVUNXfSQ0_9d3YBNRs42T_diOzR2K8xy1RDG9Xz9rd5QPMzCI0xBhOqt757ho1mgzyeA8BqdAhyphenhyphenOEkX6go/s1600/IMG_4299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dS_SLnANSajqdTejWpQHDiOje0cxukClSSxbGJUoWsCQbobkCwDFJxG1W0WVUNXfSQ0_9d3YBNRs42T_diOzR2K8xy1RDG9Xz9rd5QPMzCI0xBhOqt757ho1mgzyeA8BqdAhyphenhyphenOEkX6go/s640/IMG_4299.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">watching the ski cross athletes on their track</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHaSZ9agQ4EIra8JTNo-nrSZHkTWhNJ3q1sgnb5rIu1SxfFpEKSilBhqm0PENi5tfaoNmLNWZHw0xhBDnHwpWY2vMouUVR4T3TySqQrCiQKU2HhA6yz0-p2yQcjl_T5O4pnmCKWpV-OGW2/s1600/IMG_4361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHaSZ9agQ4EIra8JTNo-nrSZHkTWhNJ3q1sgnb5rIu1SxfFpEKSilBhqm0PENi5tfaoNmLNWZHw0xhBDnHwpWY2vMouUVR4T3TySqQrCiQKU2HhA6yz0-p2yQcjl_T5O4pnmCKWpV-OGW2/s400/IMG_4361.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the end of a long training day...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK07wAx6pY-_GfdOaPIlyZaTMYx1Ie64A6O2Pw30fVqpEenXaWQJbkXFbsQcz0cnJtda9qYHaX20jX7_CO0pv1NlyXvYed5vPisll1divRfnGZqedy66NMjDWaruuwIYA-3mwLc5Y95Xv6/s1600/IMG_4264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK07wAx6pY-_GfdOaPIlyZaTMYx1Ie64A6O2Pw30fVqpEenXaWQJbkXFbsQcz0cnJtda9qYHaX20jX7_CO0pv1NlyXvYed5vPisll1divRfnGZqedy66NMjDWaruuwIYA-3mwLc5Y95Xv6/s320/IMG_4264.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">swiss speed team technician hard at work in our hotel</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4kbjtnkGybeNkTJr8EDYxhWD1ui1c_7HTn7QwlFiusgskOWDPNyUz3gxVm8JlYxX0M7-6wMFcy7_7fhCQXNRJIzWHznyRuO7voGaRIOSqHRQ-gQ-KQxOP8fpKwOlG1nHqxVqzMVsYwdF/s1600/IMG_4278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4kbjtnkGybeNkTJr8EDYxhWD1ui1c_7HTn7QwlFiusgskOWDPNyUz3gxVm8JlYxX0M7-6wMFcy7_7fhCQXNRJIzWHznyRuO7voGaRIOSqHRQ-gQ-KQxOP8fpKwOlG1nHqxVqzMVsYwdF/s400/IMG_4278.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">esmée eats her lunch in between training runs</td></tr>
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later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-54885488628172074082012-10-11T11:10:00.000+02:002012-10-11T17:23:38.318+02:00les champignons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On our property in Terra Cotta, there was a circle of mushrooms that grew on our front lawn. One day, a friendly neighbour stopped by to let us know that they were safe to eat, delicious in fact. "Thanks very much" we said with polite smiles on our faces, but we didn't cut, cook or eat them. A week later, I found a mushroom field guide in our mailbox. Our neighbour had placed post-it notes on the pages indicating the species of mushrooms that we had on our lawn. Proof of their safety and his helpful advice. Still we didn't touch them...</div>
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When Graydon's teacher asked me if I'd like to come on a mushroom picking trip with his class, I jumped at the opportunity. Much to the mortification of my children standing beside us, we joked about going on a magic mushroom trip. We laughed, because of course we were hilarious. They rolled their eyes and muttered "so embarrassing." </div>
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The truth is that I am intrigued by wild mushrooms, where and how they grow, but mostly how to know which are safe and which are not. Mushroom aficionados in Ontario are very secretive about their picking spots and they sneak around the countryside loading up their baskets. I asked a friend once if she'd take me with her to pick Morels and she looked at me, eyes wide, amazed that I'd be so bold to ask. </div>
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While I was being offered a guided exploration, I found that mushroom picking is just as covert here in Switzerland. Our local expert Sebastien made cracks about blindfolding the adults on the trip as we drove to his favourite picking place. Not that blindfolds were necessary. I don't think I'd ever find my way back despite my best attempts to memorise our route - up a road, a sharp right at a barn, past another barn, through a field and up into a small clearing in the woods. Oh, and there were a river and mountains nearby. </div>
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We had a discussion about mushroom safety and Sebastien was adamant that no one touch or pick anything without his approval. This was done in a combination of French and English (curriculum multi-tasking) to ensure that everyone knew the rules. He had made a <i>Dossier Champignons </i>for each of us with illustrations, diagrams, classifications and at the end, a recipe for omelette aux champignons. This was my kind of field trip!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGIqQ-mHXGQgjI3AgdwM0U2yu9xPTfoeiLRzsF8nCrmLc6ATOtYl7AN9SMzQL77RsBcSXb0T3-Efcw3s8pKBH3db19PPr5QgCpeMX4EiJU2z2URpuZ_5UIbVRO_773jAKXJadWGbnO9jS/s1600/IMG_3950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGIqQ-mHXGQgjI3AgdwM0U2yu9xPTfoeiLRzsF8nCrmLc6ATOtYl7AN9SMzQL77RsBcSXb0T3-Efcw3s8pKBH3db19PPr5QgCpeMX4EiJU2z2URpuZ_5UIbVRO_773jAKXJadWGbnO9jS/s400/IMG_3950.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ms Anne Marie + Sebastien show the parts of the mushroom</td></tr>
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Armed with our baskets, bags and dossiers, we followed Sebastien up into the forest. While there were lots of trees, it felt more like a forest of moss - under foot, the floor was carpeted in both brilliant and drab shades of green and the moss dripped from the trees above. I am sure that this forest is home to fairies and it was magically quiet. Quiet, at least, until the first kid spotted a mushroom and then another and another... "M. Sebastien, is this one", "over here, can you look at this?", "can I pick this one?" And so it went, all of us caught up in the fervor of finding the right mushrooms. My own hopes pinned on the possibility of une omelette aux champignons for dinner. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOGEtohqMpeFGmxN_9APW-TxX20no2WzapBBnNBU1v9_sd9n0Cj5vj4Q2Lm5Gyc2i3HeoFqpeAY_k5aVahOwd7J5WTHqMweArnKUxzbyEybHpXSJoo5QCMPW9UwmDqSw56G4FdFj_a9-B/s1600/IMG_3964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOGEtohqMpeFGmxN_9APW-TxX20no2WzapBBnNBU1v9_sd9n0Cj5vj4Q2Lm5Gyc2i3HeoFqpeAY_k5aVahOwd7J5WTHqMweArnKUxzbyEybHpXSJoo5QCMPW9UwmDqSw56G4FdFj_a9-B/s400/IMG_3964.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">off we went into the fairy + mushroom forest</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">We were looking for Chanterelles and another variety called Laccaire Amethyste. At first, I had a hard time spotting either and was getting rather annoyed by all the twerps who couldn't help but show off how many they had picked. Even Graydon got a head start after finding a huge patch of Chanterelles when he wandered a few meters away from the pack. I tried to suppress my competitive spirit and reasoned that, at least his spoils would count towards our family dinner. Once I found my first few, however, my eyes were able to pick out the purples and oranges in the moss and I became a little obsessed. Unlike some of the other parents and teachers, I did not offer my findings to any of the kids - I had a family of five to feed after all!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFF5-za5TQBMWHiX7e8Mrbl8b3Oe0CyQX1NL540GReZgfsXzIvGtKhbdUpK-1WtNkrogAh7ruri_jc8oZ6Jzkvex4k9hZIYNYM7KC89QgokTIKCuwd6IES71trBBlxpG9oemVlYtU_XDfS/s1600/IMG_3971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFF5-za5TQBMWHiX7e8Mrbl8b3Oe0CyQX1NL540GReZgfsXzIvGtKhbdUpK-1WtNkrogAh7ruri_jc8oZ6Jzkvex4k9hZIYNYM7KC89QgokTIKCuwd6IES71trBBlxpG9oemVlYtU_XDfS/s320/IMG_3971.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">my haul of chanterelles + amethystes</td></tr>
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It was a fantastic afternoon. Who doesn't love a "field trip", especially one that brings all kinds of interesting learning and fun together? And after combining our efforts, Graydon and I made dinner that night. Et voila.....<br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com1Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.2647059-30.985435299999992 -154.4540441 90 168.9834559tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-48415412835624235272012-09-12T16:08:00.002+02:002012-09-12T16:08:28.654+02:00back in town<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The kids and I arrived back in Saanen safely almost two weeks ago. We have been settling in and reacquainting ourselves with life in the mountains. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Last weekend, we joined a few other families and drove way up a mountain above a town called Zweisimmen. We parked our cars, gently hiked through a valley and up over a ridge and down to Seebergsee. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. It was hot and the ripples on the lake sparkled. We picnic'ed and swam (ok, so I didn't, but literally everyone else did) and lazed around the lake for the afternoon. It was the perfect way to enjoy the waning days of summer and </span></span>unwind after the first week of school.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zLOwpcSqvPe2EpqFIvkUVoFYcxPy-DaOr6DnmQx7_WR22D6xBspU0gIxmVgwa6UgxpeCLgJF5T-lht4JCMshGnULIyQRR0j2Gr0zwzBfh-14u_vX3Wc1ecBOxo5VJ6Zs-40phQ_eY39H/s1600/IMG_3754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zLOwpcSqvPe2EpqFIvkUVoFYcxPy-DaOr6DnmQx7_WR22D6xBspU0gIxmVgwa6UgxpeCLgJF5T-lht4JCMshGnULIyQRR0j2Gr0zwzBfh-14u_vX3Wc1ecBOxo5VJ6Zs-40phQ_eY39H/s400/IMG_3754.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seebergsee</td></tr>
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And, of course, there was a guy playing his alphorn by the lake. I do not doubt that this happens all the time throughout the Alps.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first day of school brought with it the requisite mixture of nerves and enthusiasm. Eli, Graydon and Esmée were all</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> happy to see old friends, meet a few new ones and keen to get to know their teachers. It almost goes without saying that I am happy to be back in a daily routine that brings structure to our lives and while it may be selfish, I'm honestly thrilled to have some time to myself. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCx9VFS3KNABbYabdG-Or-qDOmZwOTY-hwTkjZopkvS6nT7BcoaUcKTTY5LzyR4Y8H0LDiJjCLRUrPqPweLI7YZzdqpEwjyypX9XSnn5xWbPvfQFFIMTd8s56Y90YbwnYxLqOZZbwxzH1/s1600/IMG_3708.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCx9VFS3KNABbYabdG-Or-qDOmZwOTY-hwTkjZopkvS6nT7BcoaUcKTTY5LzyR4Y8H0LDiJjCLRUrPqPweLI7YZzdqpEwjyypX9XSnn5xWbPvfQFFIMTd8s56Y90YbwnYxLqOZZbwxzH1/s320/IMG_3708.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one the way, day 1</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px;">It's exiting to come back to somewhere that was, just one year ago, a foreign and unknown place. <span style="font-family: inherit;">Last August, we turned up in Switzerland a little dazed and nervous, but </span>thirsty for adventure<span style="font-family: inherit;">. We were full of questions about our new lives - What was it going to be like living in a different culture, surrounded by different languages? </span></span>Would we make friends? How homesick would we get? What were Jeff and I going to do all day while the kids were in school? We were a family of five changing things up for awhile and we stuck together, trying to figure it all out as we went along. <br />
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This time, I'm on my own with the kids (Jeff is coming at the end of September) and there is already a level of comfort and security. As the train carried us into the Berner Oberland, the landscape resonated and the familiar silhouette of the mountains brought a smiles to our travel-weary faces. It felt like we were "home". <br />
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We are not here forever, not even for a few more years. Yet, it feels like home because this is where we have chosen to spend our days and nights. We have become a part of this community, at least for now and what matters most, is that we are here together.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Schönriedstrasse, 3792 Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.2647059-7.6940997999999965 -73.5946691 90 88.1240809tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-64420030608230502122012-07-25T20:53:00.000+02:002012-07-25T20:53:35.012+02:00school's out for summer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Kind of an excuse for not writing, but the last
couple of months have been a whirlwind. Honestly, I have no idea how we jump
from day to day so damn quickly. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">At the end of May, the kids went on their class
trips - Eli to London, Graydon to Paris and Esmée to Interlaken. Jeff and
I took advantage and travelled to Ticino, the Italian region of Switzerland for
a few days where we wandered around without any real plan, stayed in beautiful
hotels, ate delicious Italian food, slept in and enjoyed the quiet. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">In early June, we met Jimpy (my mother) in Paris to take in the sights and a few matches at Roland Garros. We rented an apartment in the 6th Arr., a great location in terms of its proximity to all the places we wanted to go. Coming from the serene mountain life of the Saanenland, however, it was possibly the noisiest place on earth. Thank god for the Parisien bakery downstairs.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Without its fresh pain au chocolats, croissants and it's piping hot café, we wouldn’t have survived the sleepless nights marked by the incessant sounds of traffic and people in the City of Lights.</span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Roland Garros was a real highlight. Thanks to my mum's great friend at NBC Sports, we were able to see three matches: Nadal-Almago in the Quarters, the Sharapova-Errani final and the Sunday portion of the Nadal-Djokovic final. I love watching tennis on TV, the analysis and commentary is of real benefit. However, the energy and excitement in the stands at the French during those matches was incredible. It was such a treat to be a part of the action. We watched Rafa's precision and focus in placing his water bottles in exactly the same spot on the clay in front of his bench at each changeover. His ritualistic bum picking, sweat wiping, hair tucking, nose wiping before each point was all the more poignant from a mere 25 m away. Sharapova clenches her fist and walks to the back of the court between each </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">point, a moment to focus and prepare. It was thrilling to see her win her first French Open title and to cheer Nadal on to winning his seventh.</span></span></div>
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Giverny and a day in Monet's garden was a hit. Graydon had been there with his class a few weeks earlier and he relished in being our tour guide and noting all the changes in the garden.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We also did lots of walking and sight-seeing and had a great day with The Beatty-Walter family who, by chance, were staying two blocks away from our apartment. A highlight for the kids was The Catacombs, an underground labyrinth of skulls and bones, the burial grounds for 6 million Parisiens around the end of the 18th century.</span><br />
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Esmée was determined to see the Mona Lisa, so we weaved our way through the Louvre crowds one afternoon in search of DaVinci's masterpiece. It had been pouring rain all morning, but the sun had emerged just enough to generate steam off the backs of every tourists' raincoat. Every last one of us in that museum brought the wet heat indoors, virtually turning the place into a crowded steam room. Once Esmée successfully wormed her way to the front of the crowd to get a few pictures of the famous lady, we quickly escaped back outside and headed for our favourite spot, the Luxembourg Gardens... </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">One of my fave pic of Paris - a drive by....</span></div>
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After paris, we were into the last stretch of
school days with all of that inherent craziness – play dates and musical dress
rehearsals, cleaning out of desks and the resultant piles of notebooks, artwork
and stuff at home, assemblies, good byes and the excitement and anticipation of
a couple of months without tests and homework. In amongst this madness, I snuck in a glorious 5 day tennis
clinic here in Gstaad lead by Aussie legend, Roy Emerson. Fresh off my spectator experience at the
French Open, I was in heaven. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The end of school is a time of real emotional
conflict. From my own school days, I remember the feelings of relief and excitement
mixed with sadness as everyone scatters and goes their separate ways. It’s a
time of goodbyes and see ya later's, some intended for a couple of months, but some for longer. We've had a fantastic year. We've all met wonderful people and made great new friends and thankfully, we are able to put off our own longer term good bye's for now. </span></div>
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<br /></div>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.2647059-20.9140898 -154.4540441 90 168.9834559tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-82985057035232688312012-05-14T10:45:00.000+02:002012-05-14T10:45:30.615+02:00changing seasons + a punk rock concertIt's time to put away our winter gear and watch the snow melt. The mountain peaks are still white around here which makes the green of the valley even more striking. The grass is glowing like emeralds and flowers, both planted and wild, are shooting up from the ground. <br />
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I love spring, there is so much hope and renewal and warmth in the air. We have had loads of rain the last few weeks, but today the sun is back out and it's gorgeous. One of the things I love most about spring is the infinite shades of green everywhere you look.<br />
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I went for a hike a few days ago, on one of the very few gloriously sunny days we've had. It was hot (28C), but breezy and it was so fantastic to be back out on my feet again. I always miss walking during the long, cold months of winter. The mountains are coming alive with wild crocuses, white and purple. There are also yellow flowers which I have yet to identify (not dandelions, but there are those as well). It is stunning and inspiring, all around.<br />
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Apple blossoms abound and the lilacs are just popping. Asparagus, both green and white (Euros love the white variety) line the produce shelves at the grocery store. <br />
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And the cows, sheep and goats are back outdoors. After a winter of being cooped up in their barns, they are on the move and once again, the valley is full of the sounds of ringing bells. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our sheep neighbours</td></tr>
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On the weekend, there was a music festival in Saanen. Taking place every May, "Rock the Village" is but one marker of Spring around here. Imagine my delight when I looked at the line-up of bands on this year's poster. There they were - The Fucks - in all their glory! I HAD to go....<br />
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Thankfully, I was able to convince my friend Diana to join me in my obsession-guided adventure Saturday night (Jeff is in Ontario). It was freezing and pouring rain and of course, the concert was taking place in a tent at the Saanen Flugplatz (airport). Our enthusiasm waned throughout the day and early evening. But, we pumped ourselves up and went, feeling kind of hip and cool, at least while we parked the car and before we entered the tent. The Fucks are a punk band so there was lots of slam dancing. We stayed their whole set, took pictures and videos for our kids who were quite mad they weren't allowed to come (16+). It took me back to the days of being a teenager, going to wild concerts at the Masonic Temple in Toronto, getting drunk and dancing your face off with your friends. Only this time I was more of an (old) observer. We even "met the band" afterwards (well, actually just the drummer, but he's the Main Dude). It turns out that Diana knew his grandfather and knows his father, we were practically groupies. We went, we saw and yes, we bought the Tshirts to prove it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the fucks onstage</td></tr>
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-86714750148494114592012-04-17T12:02:00.000+02:002012-04-17T12:02:26.006+02:00sharmLocated on the southern tip of Egypt's Sinai peninsula, Sharm el Sheikh overlooks the Straits of Tiran in the Red Sea. It's well known for it's diving and snorkelling and is home to a number of hotels and resorts. From Europe, at this time of year, there aren't as many choices for hot weather destinations without committing to long haul flights and time changes. The Sinai, however, fits the bill with 5 hours flying time from Geneva (through Cairo) and daily temperatures in the high 20s. I was almost desperate to go. I needed a break from the sometimes frantic pace of skiing and a winter of the dizzying cycle of packing and unpacking all the equipment. I needed to feel true heat and hear the birds sing. I wanted to see these trees...<br />
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I thought I had my work really cut out for me as we already had plans to go to Lech, Austria after Kitzbühel and then back to Saanen for more spring skiing. However, the <i>I-can't-go-on-a-holiday-without-lots-of-activities-to-do</i> angels were on my side. As soon as Jeff discovered there was a kiteboarding school in Sharm, run by a couple of Aussies and appropriately called "Kite Junkies", he was in.<br />
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The resort was beautiful and the service amazing. For 6 days, the kinds of difficult choices we had to make were whether to sit by the pool or on the beach and what kind of omelette to have for breakfast! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">view to the Red Sea and the island of Tiran in the background</td></tr>
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The kids had a blast swimming, snorkelling and they all did some scuba diving. They each did an introductory dive, one-on-one with a dive master and then the boys were able to go on and do a "discover scuba diving" 4-hour course where they did some theory, a pool dive and a sea dive to 12m.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">esmee on the descent</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">graydy + eli after their dive</td></tr>
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Jeff took the boys for three full mornings to Kite Junkies where they learned how to kite board. They loved it and did really well. Two of the three days were windy enough for Jeff to get out on his own. He was in heaven...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the scene at Kite Junkies beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">eli </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">graydon<br />
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As for me, I did not dive or kite board. I swam with my kids, but mostly sat on my ass by the pool. I spent some quality time with the likes of Raymond Carver + Ernest Hemingway, among others... </div>
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It was a wonderful break, a true holiday where parents and kids alike were happily at ease. It was not a cultural adventure, there were no tourist excursions, just pure fun + relaxation in the sun. It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm not even entirely sure where the Pyramids are. We'll save them for our next trip....</div>
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</div>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.2647059-7.7919872999999953 -73.5946691 90 88.1240809tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-2236499027481436932012-04-12T11:05:00.000+02:002012-04-12T11:07:51.364+02:00kitzWe spent the first part of the 3 week school holiday visiting the Duras family in Kitzbühel, Austria. Kitzbühel is most famous in the skiing world for The Hahnenkamm, the most terrifying and demanding men's downhill race on the World Cup circuit. Our hotel was at the base of the Hahnenkamm Gondola, so even though the race takes place in January, it loomed large in our minds the entire time we were in Kitz. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graydon in the start of the famous Hahnenkamm</td></tr>
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The course itself is called the Strief (german for streak) and having now skied it myself (slowly and carefully, with lots of turns), I can assure you that all the hype about this run is true. It has it all - huge jumps, narrow passages, hairpin turns and really steep pitches. As Jeff said - you're on the gas from the moment you leave the start and you can't let up until you cross the finish line. There's no room for error and nowhere to relax, even for a second. Just ask Todd Brooker or Brian Stemmle, 2 Canadians who have had spectacular crashes on The Strief. <br />
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Imagine our pleasure on the first morning as we climbed into the gondola, only to discover a large sticker on the window with Didier Cuche's name, a Swiss flag and a list of all his wins at Kitzbühel. It only took a few seconds before we realized that each gondola cabin is named after Hahnenkamm winners, so it became a race to see who could read the names on the cabins first as we passed each one. Big Canadian cheers when we passed Steve Podborski (1981+1982), Ken Read (1980) and Todd Brooker (1983) - a 4 year reign of the Crazy Canucks! On our last day, Esmée and I waited at the bottom to get a picture of her beside Craigleith's own Steve Podborski.<br />
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It was wonderful to see Matthew and Veronica and get to know their lovely daughters, Isabella and Valentina. Veronica is Austrian and her family has a beautiful working dairy farm in the Kitz valley where they all gather for weekends and holidays. Matthew is Canadian, but has been living and working in Czech running his family's farm since the early 1990s. They met skiing in Kitz and now live in Tetin, just outside Prague. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dinner with the duras clan</td></tr>
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Spending time with Matthew, an old friend of both Jeff and I, and getting to know his family better was tremendously good for our souls. Amid the constant reminiscing about the good 'ole days of tree planting and ski racing, there were many, many laughs and lots of exploring on the ski hills together. Plans are already underway for an excursion to the Czech Republic in July... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmwh5tS4p6x9A_5GRrWIdz2eesnxZ_SLpM30zkdYM0uE8uAP33oBMwmsJxtUCKhB-9PGrHNDHb1vn5K55aHhr5efVdk6hK_qx2aBQtRTV924R8aap0aqYW602SXNknGT661uUMbWU8GB-/s1600/IMG_1743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmwh5tS4p6x9A_5GRrWIdz2eesnxZ_SLpM30zkdYM0uE8uAP33oBMwmsJxtUCKhB-9PGrHNDHb1vn5K55aHhr5efVdk6hK_qx2aBQtRTV924R8aap0aqYW602SXNknGT661uUMbWU8GB-/s320/IMG_1743.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">esmée, isabella + valentina</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">delicious lunches on the mountain</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">amazing views</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">old school double chair with swing out bars and foot rests</td></tr>
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com1Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-69751919597099130142012-03-19T12:48:00.000+01:002012-04-11T16:37:52.930+02:00NZ 13, we will miss you<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This past week has been incredibly difficult. Last Saturday, 10 March, we all went to Grindelwald to watch the last World Cup Ski Cross race of the season. Our friend from Craigleith, Nik Zoricic, was racing and we wanted to cheer him and his Canadian teammates on. Jeff coached Nik when he was a young ski racer, about the age of our boys now. He worked with Nik's Dad, Bebe, on and off at Craigleith over the years. We were all excited to see Nik on the World Cup stage and to be there to support him so far away from home.</span><br />
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It was an astonishingly beautiful day. A perfect bluebird, just above freezing. For skiers, it was the kind of day that just doesn't get any better. We arrived in time to see a few of the final training runs and after the Canadians came down, there was Nik, standing in the finish area wearing bib # 13. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">We had a brief visit and wished him luck. He was relaxed and happy and told us how much he was enjoying being in the Alps. He marvelled at the beauty of the mountains around us and at being able to race on the doorste</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">p of Switzerland's notorious Eiger. </span> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">His eyes shone bright and his smile stretched from ear to ear, as it always has.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">We were looking forward to having a few beers after the race, meeting the team and having dinner together. Our kids had their sharpies, ready to collect signatures, but we held off asking because the guys were getting ready for their race and we didn't want to be bothersome fans. We could do all that after the race. I didn't take any pictures either. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Nik was in the fourth heat of the race with teammate Chris Del Bosco, a German and a French racer. We were in the finish area, jumping up and down in the stands, screaming our heads off as we watched the four racers on the big screen and then finally, as they came over the last jump. Nik was in third, came off the final jump too far to his right and slammed into the safety netting. In an instant, it was all over. He slid into the finish area, unconscious. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Silence. Everyone was stunned. We simply couldn't believe our eyes. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Over the next forty-five minutes, we watched as a medical crew worked on Nik 100m away from where we stood, now shivering in the warm spring air. Helicopters came and went, landing directly in front of us in the finish corral. Sponsor banners blowing up into the sky each time. Faces all around us grew increasingly solemn and pale. With each minute that passed, Jeff and I knew that Nik was in real trouble. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Our kids kept asking us if he was going to be ok. "Will he be able to ski again?", "When are they going to take him to the hospital?". Their questions and tears punctuating the quiet of the stands. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">They were looking to Jeff and I, searching our ashen faces, to find a sign that everything would be alright. As parents, we tried to soothe their fears, but the unspoken truth was that we were both terrified. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">As soon as Nik was taken away by helicopter, we left. It was only once we were in our car, on our way back to Saanen, that our worst fears were confirmed. Nik had died from 'severe neurotrauma'. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">We pulled over and in voices barely above a whisper, gave the news to our children. I think that in their own beautiful and innocent ways, they had truly believed that Nik was going to be ok. They sat inconsolable in the back seat, tears streaming down their goggle-tanned faces. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">We drove straight to our local mountain and went up in the gondola. We took out our sharpies and paid tribute to Nik on our helmets - <i>NZ 13, we will miss you. </i>At the top, consoled by the mountain peaks around us, we huddled together and said a few prayers for Nik and his family before we skied down. We wanted to finish Nik's run for him.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">We have gone from being unbearably close to the tragedy of Nik's crash and death, to feeling so far from home. We are missing our family and our friends. We are missing the comfort that we share in being together in times of crisis and catastrophe. We are grateful for our friends here and their wonderful support of our family as we try to heal. We are thinking about Nik's family, Bebe, Silvia and Kat, and his wide group of friends as they move forward with their lives. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Life is so fragile. On a magnificent sunny day in the Swiss Alps, Nik was there, standing with us and skiing with his teammates. He was doing what he loved to do and then, he was gone. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Nik Zoricic</b> 19 February, 1983 - 10 March, 2012</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com7Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705935.290676200000007 -12.9501381 57.6883402 27.4795499tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-32970529251083237862012-03-02T13:06:00.000+01:002012-03-02T13:06:16.524+01:00the family treeMoving to a new place is not without its challenges. There are the most obvious language and cultural differences. There are new people, strangers who may or may not be interested in becoming friends with newly arrived Canadians. We have been lucky to meet some extraordinary people and begin to develop some really good friendships here. But still, when you come from a wonderfully close and supportive community of family and friends, like we do, starting fresh can be an overwhelming and sometimes, lonely endeavour.<br />
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We did not, however, start quite from scratch. We choose to come to Saanen largely because of the JFK School and the Lovell family (Alison Lovell is married to my brother Ryan). Forty one years ago, Bill and Sandy Lovell (Ali's parents) came to teach at a tiny school here in Saanen. After one year, they were asked to take over the school and have been here ever since. They raised their two children here (Ali and her brother, Bryce) and did a fabulous job growing the JFK International School into what it is today. They sold the school this past summer, but Bill + Sandy and Bryce + his wife Vickie and their kids continue to live here in Saanen. That means that we have the good fortune of having <i>family</i> close by. <br />
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The other day, I ran into Sandy in the grocery store and found myself quizzing her on all the different kinds of mountain cheese. When the kids had to find sponsors for a charity ski race, we knew where to go. We've celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving and Christmas together. There have been a couple of times where our kids have been in the local (swiss german) paper and they've called to let us know or dropped off a copy. Our kids are enchanted by their "Swiss cousins", Ava and Sadie and love to run into them around town or get together for dinner. Most importantly, I know they're all nearby, just in case...<br />
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Thankfully, for this temporary transplant, the family tree is as wide as it is tall and always, always expanding....<br />
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A few of my fave photos as of late....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a perfect day ski touring</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">graydy gets a haircut</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this morning on the chalberhoni - videmanette lift</td></tr>
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.2647059-7.4499213 -73.5946691 90 88.1240809tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-75740493491202129762012-02-20T11:28:00.005+01:002012-02-20T11:28:46.962+01:00fondue partyA fondue party on top of a mountain is a pretty regular winter event here in the Swiss Alps. <br />
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Last weekend, we were invited to the local Saanen Skiclub annual fondue party on top of the Eggli. There was much debate in our household about whether we would go. I was a little nervous (ok, a lot nervous) because I do not know a single other parent of any of the local kids nor do I speak their language. And if that's not enough to scare me off, Jeff is Canada so I'm picturing myself in a restaurant full of family and friends, standing alone. Ahhh! The boys were also anxious - while they have been training with the local kids, and have made a couple of friends, I wouldn't say that they've really bonded with the group. We are not from here, do not speak quite enough Swiss German and they go to the international school, not the local one. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxpuy2zPXhaXdMuW58-28g9Yzwf_B4K3K7LW8kCOyEovp7l6d61_LREfQo9qyB3YtM0rljCITizzzo8YeodVZCW8SxRMtM82HA7_z8jPuLkxfdea4CHy8z7SYqwuqd53jZEGgp3DtcDDL/s1600/IMG_1304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxpuy2zPXhaXdMuW58-28g9Yzwf_B4K3K7LW8kCOyEovp7l6d61_LREfQo9qyB3YtM0rljCITizzzo8YeodVZCW8SxRMtM82HA7_z8jPuLkxfdea4CHy8z7SYqwuqd53jZEGgp3DtcDDL/s200/IMG_1304.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a>As we were deliberating about whether or not to go, this simple, but oh-so-powerful image arrived in my inbox.... <br />
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That was it. We were going and in search of magic no less! <br />
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I wasn't totally sure of the format or etiquette as this was our first real fondue party. I asked around - "we wear our ski suits, right?", "do we bring poles or not", "do we need to bring our own torches?". As part of my research, I wanted to ensure that one of the coaches, Stefan, whom I know a little was going with his son Rhys. Stefan speaks several languages, including Swiss German. He has been living here for a long time so he was the perfect guy to latch onto as we tried to move from our safe circle into the other one! Once I confirmed that they would be there and as fate would have it, with 2 Canadian guests, it was game on.<br />
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We took the last lift up at 16:30, arrived at the restaurant, I had a glass (maybe two) of gluhwein and we all took part in a couple of ski boot dual slaloms races. It was freezing (-15) and when we were finally called into the restaurant, the setting sun was projecting its alpenglow on the peaks all around us. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stefan + Sherry and Grant, fellow Canadians</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eli, Rhys and I enjoying our fondue</td></tr>
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The fondue was delicious, of course, and the company wonderful. I even met a local guy (Thomas) who lives here in the winter and runs a fishing lodge outside of Whitehorse in the summer. In that small world, somehow never surprising way, he knows my cousin Braden who lived in the Yukon. His wife, Corin, came bounding over to our table, demanding to know which one of us was Braden's cousin. She was thrilled to meet me, full of praise for Braden who had kept her sane during her first summers in the Canadian North. They had all first met over 10 years ago at Ryan and Ali's wedding here in Saanen. Corin's father was the priest who married them and the wedding reception had been in the very restaurant in which we were all now sitting, enjoying our fondue dinner. New friends made in the crossroads, what's not to love about that?<br />
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Warmed by all that melted cheese and more than a few schnapps, we armed ourselves with torches and headlamps (for those in the know) and made our way out into the cold night.<br />
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The torches were sword-like with long cardboard handles wrapped in a waxy, oily cloth that lit quickly when dipped into the communal flame. Many of the kids couldn't resist fencing with each other while bits of flaming torch sprayed around them. Once everyone was lit, the group assembled at the top of the hill. It was a truly beautiful site, standing there with all these people bundled up against the cold, holding their glowing torches, eager for the excitement of the descent. <br />
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Headed towards the twinkling lights of Saanen, we snaked across and down the hill in a long line until we safely reached the bottom. Our first fondue party was a total success and whether it was your thirtieth or your first, there was more than just a little magic in the air. <br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com2Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-46452777042285926672012-02-01T10:39:00.000+01:002012-02-01T10:39:02.085+01:00the neighbourhood goes to punk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As a family, we have been intrigued, ok maybe obsessed, with this van since we arrived in September. </div>
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We see it everywhere - at the barn down the road, driving past our chalet, at the grocery store, outside the bakery, and most hilariously, in the parking lot of the youth community centre. It's hard to miss because it is so striking and inappropriate and funny. It has become familial practice to half sing, half shout out "the fucks" whenever we see it. Charming. <br />
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At first sight, the kids pointed and giggled. I tried to justify the <i>shocking</i> use of language by reminding them that people here speak german and swiss-german. Perhaps, I said, it means something else. "Nice try" they howled, "fuck is the same in every language". Maybe there is a colloquialism that we are missing?<br />
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I have tried to find out more, but googling "the fucks" leads to some REALLY inappropriate results, ones that I choose to believe don't have anything to do with our local red van. What I have uncovered so far is that The Fucks are a punk rock band based here in Saanen. They have been making music since 2003 and released their first CD in 2010. Not much to go on, so the fascination endures.....later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com4Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-20140811113897999772012-01-23T14:52:00.003+01:002012-01-23T14:52:47.432+01:00on tourski touring - skitouren (german) - randonnée (french)<br />
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Last week, we tried a new sport - ski touring! It requires different equipment (of course) so we've been spending lots of time at our new favourite ski store / gas station (a one stop shop) renting touring boots and skis, trying different widths and lengths in an attempt to figure it all out. Touring is like winter hiking, but even better because you get to make your own fresh ski tracks on the way down. Skis and bindings are lighter in weight than their downhill cousins which takes some getting used to and the whole idea of layering your clothing is essential to being comfortable - not too warm, but not too cold. <br />
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At the bottom, you put the skins on your skis which makes them stick to the snow for the ascent. You also put your boots on "walk" which gives them lots of flex and they are surprisingly comfortable. The bindings allow your heel to be clipped in for skiing down or free for skinning up, there is even a "high heel" option for steep climbs!<br />
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It's truly amazing. The pace is perfect - there is time to notice things like how the feeling of the snow changes between north and south facing slopes. You can really see the shapes of the terrain and trees and take in the colour of the sky. Our guide even noticed a few Steinbock way above us on a rock face, or so he claimed, I didn't have my glasses on! Some of our fellow skiers like to listen to music on the way up, but I like to hear the crunching of the snow under my skis, enjoy the peace of the quiet and pay attention to the cadence of my breath (or lack of it sometimes). <br />
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For me, touring is not just about skiing, but about the whole experience of spending time on the snow, "climbing" the mountain, being in the presence of impossibly beautiful views. It makes me feel connected to the landscape, like I'm really a part of our surroundings in a way that more traditional downhill skiing lacks. <br />
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Another incredible way of exploring the mountains....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">heading up behind Rougemont</td></tr>
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almost at the summit of Rodomont Derriere</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunch in the sun at 1900m, Rodomont Derriere</td></tr>
</tbody></table>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-92153064088710896882012-01-17T16:13:00.003+01:002012-01-17T16:14:28.628+01:00ski racing: the real dealWhile it's a bit disgusting, the old expression "there is more than one way to skin a cat" is a good one to describe our varied experiences of skiing here in Switzerland. I have already written about the powder, the on-piste and off-piste and even the barn skiing. <br />
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There's also ski racing which is a sport unto itself. On Sunday, Jeff and I took the boys to the Men's World Cup Slalom in Wengen. Esmée opted for a sleepover and all-day playmate at her friends' house, so we took the boys' friend George with us and off we went. It was a pre-dawn start, we weaved through the valley to Interlaken and were meant to take the train to Lauterbrunnen, but instead took a train to Grindelwald. This happens when the ticket seller waves vaguely in the direction of a train standing at the platform, the whistle blows and you don't quite read the actual sign above the platform. You know that the trains don't wait in Switzerland, so you just assume and jump aboard. <br />
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No big deal, we assured ourselves, plan b: go to Wengen from Grindelwald instead which, given the geography, means we can access the top section of the race for the first run. We are bundled in ski clothes, but are without our equipment. Having been to Adelboden the week before with Jeff Turner, Ross Kappele and Paul Turner, our resident World Cup groupie Jeff concluded that it's easier to watch if you don't have your skis and poles to deal with. It took a bit longer, but when we got off the train and half slid, half walked down to the start area, even I was excited. This was not our usual Nancy Greene or K1 kids race, this was the big leagues baby! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">start area at the Wengen slalom</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canadian Mike Janyk in the start</td></tr>
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We stood a few gates down from the start and cheered everyone on, but our "go, go, go's" + "hoop, hoop, hoop's" were exceptionally louder for the 6 Canadians in the race. The start is much quieter than the finish. There is a seriousness in the air, athletes are preparing. Some are warming up their bodies and others, their minds. You see many of them standing quietly on their own, "skiing the course" with their hands, listening to music, getting ready for the run of a lifetime.<br />
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For the second run, we went to the finish area which is wild. Fans are cheering, music is pumping and everyone is having a good time. There is a huge jumbotron in the finish area so you can see the top part of the course, but when a racer comes into view over the top of the last, very steep pitch, the crowd erupts and cheers each one across the finish line. <br />
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The energy was electric, especially since we were standing with the hundreds of Croatian fans there to cheer on their countryman, Ivica Kostelic. When Kostelic finished his second run, the Croatians went wild, cheering loudly and even lighting flares and fireworks. When the 3 skiers who came down after him failed to beat his time, they went crazy. He won the race for the third year in a row and while he is an exceptional ski racer, there's no doubt that the wave of fan support helps get him to the top of the podium. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Croatian ski racing fans light it up for Kostelic</td></tr>
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Graydon was determined to get some signatures on his Craigleith racing jacket. He went to three different restaurants to find a permanent marker to borrow and with Jeff's help, he sweet talked his way into the VIP finish area and hung around waiting for an athlete to pass by. If you look closely in the photo below, he is the one wearing a Canada hat, standing on the fence scanning the crowd for a world cup ski racer. His perseverance paid off and he got 3rd place Fritz Dopfer's of Germany signature. He was so thrilled and his huge smile made all the standing around in the cold worth it. Later, at the train station, he spotted some Canadian athletes waiting to load up their van and move on to the next race. Without any hint of shyness, he marched up to them, introduced himself and got a few more autographs on his jacket! <br />
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It was an action-packed day full of new and exciting experiences. We all got to be a part of the World Cup action, watch some incredible skiing and take in the dramatic beauty of both Grindelwald and Wengen... Kitzbuhl anyone?<br />
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</div>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com2Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-87880375708816685402012-01-10T23:15:00.001+01:002012-01-10T23:15:36.666+01:00catching up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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I'm not really a maker of new year's resolutions, but if I were, I would resolve to be a more active blogger. </div>
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However, I'm only allowing myself to feel gentle guilt as the last month has been busy - festive, fun and truly memorable. Some highlights.....</div>
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At the beginning of December, for the first time in 30 years, there was skating on Lauenensee (the Lauenen Lake). What made this an unusual occurance was the combination of cold temperatures and a lack of snow. For about one week the entire lake, surrounded by rolling hills and dramatic mountain peaks became an enormous and natural skating rink. Locals, transplants and what few tourists were left flocked to the lake. During this time, we skated during the day while the kids were at school and again after school with the kids, often catching the last moments of daylight and watching the alpenglow along the ridges of the surrounding mountains. The lake made disconcerting noises. It belched and gurgled from deep below the frozen suface as the ice shifted with the change in temperatures throughout the day. If you banged your skate against the ice, it felt solid, but sounded a little hollow. It was very clear, you could see the bottom, bubbles were trapped in the ice. I have never experienced anything like it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">even this poor fish got trapped in the freeze</td></tr>
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About a week before Christmas, it started to really snow and it hasn't stopped until this week. We have been skiing, snowshoeing and building snow forts. I honestly don't think I've ever seen so much snow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the last week of school before the break<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">snowshoeing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opening Day at the Saanen Eggli - first skiers on the lift </td></tr>
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We live near the bottom of the Saanen Eggli chairlift which opened for the season on Friday, the 23rd of December. Given that we live within walking distance to this lift and that it is connected to a fabulous ski area called the Videmanette, this was a banner day for our family. Jeff had us up at the crack of dawn and we were out there, waiting for the lift to open. We were rewarded with the distinction of being the first "guests" of the season on the Saanen Eggli!</div>
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The skiing has been, to quote my kids, epic and sick. We've had knee to thigh high powder most days due to huge amounts of snow, a surprisingly low volume of skiers and snowboarders and terrain that seems to go on and on. Often, it's like we have the place to ourselves and can do the same runs over and over, making our own tracks each time. It's insane!<br />
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We've been exploring all sorts of skiing - piste and off piste, jumps and bumps, glades and even barns... The boys, their friend Anastasia and I were on a beautiful south facing slope on the Videmanette. It was all deep powder, the kind that you can just float through and it makes you feel like a rock star skier. The kids set off before me, I did a few turns (like a rock star), looked up and just below me, the there they were, on top of a barn! I am sure that the Swiss farmers do not appreciate skiers on top of their barns, even when there is so much snow that the barn has literally become part of the slope. I can't remember the exact details, but seeing those kids on the barn and then jumping off the side, triggered a vague memory of a tv commercial years ago where a skier skied down a mountain and over a barn or restaurant, racing towards a cup of coffee maybe? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">barn skiing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">out of the valley fog and into the sunshine at the Saanen Eggli</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the top of the Saanen Eggli</td></tr>
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Christmas festivities started with a school choir candlelight service and then a JFK concert where each class preformed songs and acted out the traditions of many of the students' home countries. We went to a friend's property in Rougemont and cut our own christmas tree - probably against the rules, but driven by the romance of an alpine christmas . Ryan and Ali sent us a "Canadian Christmas" package which included iconic tree ornaments like a polar bear, beer bottle, beaver and skidoo. The kids make paper snowflakes and pipe cleaner angels. Our Swiss tree was simple and beautiful and perfect. </div>
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My mother, aka Jimpy, arrived on the 19th to spend a week with us. It was great fun to have her here and to be able to share parts of our new life with someone from home. She didn't catch the ski fever, but she always loves the Saanenland and particularly the part of European culture that gives a universal and warm welcome to dogs and smokers alike. A school friend of the kids', Anastasia, also spent Christmas with us. She is from Russia and despite having never celebrated Christmas before, she easily joined in our traditions and even Santa managed to figure it all out!<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our local "charlie brown" christmas tree</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Eve - Jimpy, Eli, Graydon, Esmée, Anastasia and Jeff</td></tr>
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Christmas dinner was at the Mountain Lodge which houses Lovell International Camps, Bryce and Vickie's new business. It was a wonderful collection of about 30 family, friends and Lovell Camps staff.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny6qgT4hGebVr8AdECQd-mSTRbzO7TZ-XbGVai2xUHVTZA7cis2hBZebXyVEAkoqnIjXtG-BjN8fPj0850dt_YGogV7xpWRxSCparu-LbVLk7SqljUnopGcYgWtX1KWdSQNpcexc4k94x/s1600/IMG_1063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny6qgT4hGebVr8AdECQd-mSTRbzO7TZ-XbGVai2xUHVTZA7cis2hBZebXyVEAkoqnIjXtG-BjN8fPj0850dt_YGogV7xpWRxSCparu-LbVLk7SqljUnopGcYgWtX1KWdSQNpcexc4k94x/s320/IMG_1063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Lovell orchestrated a magnificent dinner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsaothbC_qfi2nPu1pMD5omzkNCbjH2r7WDYuSiLUey-y9EpLC4HixODKbk4idpwj3hOUXQ47Fu2UFtKceJCYeARB1jFzn3GR_7GeqR5hc5zrqKJS1Gygr6ajpY69bsQ-LpjjX8I6DQ6lF/s1600/IMG_1061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsaothbC_qfi2nPu1pMD5omzkNCbjH2r7WDYuSiLUey-y9EpLC4HixODKbk4idpwj3hOUXQ47Fu2UFtKceJCYeARB1jFzn3GR_7GeqR5hc5zrqKJS1Gygr6ajpY69bsQ-LpjjX8I6DQ6lF/s320/IMG_1061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got to do the gravy, my fave!<br /></td></tr>
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On Boxing Day, we had to say goodbye to Jimpy. Eli and I accompanied her to Geneva by train, making the 6 minute connection at Montreux with only minutes to spare. Having to get over 4 tracks while dragging 2 large suitcases, a heavy carry-on and making sure that Jimpy got a quick smoke while she could was almost more than the three of us could handle. Somehow we made it and after a tearful goodbye at the airport and we were off on our next adventure - four days of skiing in Chamonix....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_NxQeolLf24S5g4Zbaf6x8rvyTv9fMyFh0SWiy3ddE1vMSkpebhlNDZAahQBBxuhBHKAB7BkQrO_VSv76Mi-f-lO9hWYesJxqGkAhRGtpOrsb9B4yFYUGRKbIVVttwAv4vVhsfnHmG3V/s1600/IMG_0952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_NxQeolLf24S5g4Zbaf6x8rvyTv9fMyFh0SWiy3ddE1vMSkpebhlNDZAahQBBxuhBHKAB7BkQrO_VSv76Mi-f-lO9hWYesJxqGkAhRGtpOrsb9B4yFYUGRKbIVVttwAv4vVhsfnHmG3V/s320/IMG_0952.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com4Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-91404458684426734252011-12-17T16:33:00.001+01:002011-12-17T16:33:53.675+01:00graydon skis the powder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Hi, it's Graydon here and I want to tell you about the best thing I've ever done in my life! Today, I went powder skiing for the first time ever. It's been snowing here in Saanen for 4 days (ok, there was a little bit of rain mixed in down in the valley) and today the lifts were all closed because of too much snow, wind and snow drifts. We were all ready for skiing this morning when we found out that nothing was open, so my Dad drove Eli, Esmée, my Mum and I up the Saanen Eggli, the mountain right behind our chalet. He dropped Eli, my Mum and I off with our skis, poles and helmets to have a run on our own. Here we are at the top:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvbNJl9UR8IkMGz7DUtSafXliCpsQWx7t-0kQB8Rhu3xfeS8PjhgxM3Mx28nYJXnrv3zt03XGsrAXkwml_SrCY7Kov58x98Uy-fdkQrv6GVMXoo9YLNWfo4ryud6Sc_Yl93Y62pJ1QW8P/s1600/IMG_0731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvbNJl9UR8IkMGz7DUtSafXliCpsQWx7t-0kQB8Rhu3xfeS8PjhgxM3Mx28nYJXnrv3zt03XGsrAXkwml_SrCY7Kov58x98Uy-fdkQrv6GVMXoo9YLNWfo4ryud6Sc_Yl93Y62pJ1QW8P/s320/IMG_0731.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Every turn felt like I was in heaven!! I've never skied in powder snow like that - it was like God dropped lots of flour on Switzerland when he was baking! The snow was up to our knees and was light enough so that it flew up when we skied through it. Here I am part way down our run:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPx3eVMsNXpPVfsYNJrzi7pr_cjNoIZM2Phg99VyehkC-uL1LZhdggusUsCtU7qzrbcz_tJNZV8SmfxZgj0cQGkiVtzb8NQLA9f0gO1T3SP52OnwVqkhU1Y0SOVMHjUY7iQwfK8pe28grM/s1600/IMG_0739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPx3eVMsNXpPVfsYNJrzi7pr_cjNoIZM2Phg99VyehkC-uL1LZhdggusUsCtU7qzrbcz_tJNZV8SmfxZgj0cQGkiVtzb8NQLA9f0gO1T3SP52OnwVqkhU1Y0SOVMHjUY7iQwfK8pe28grM/s320/IMG_0739.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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After we got to the bottom, my Dad called to say that he was stuck on the road down the mountain because a car in front of him had jack-knifed and blocked the road. So we had to walk home, but it's not very far so it was fun. I can't wait to ski the powder again..... <br />
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Here I am walking down the hill into the Rubeldorf area where we live:<br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com2Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-6969594403597898102011-12-05T22:55:00.001+01:002011-12-05T23:23:22.424+01:00the sky is finally fallingTwo weeks of bronchitis is to blame for the radio silence. But, I'm back in action and just in time for the arrival of winter here in the Saanenland. <br />
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It's been snowing in the alpine for a couple of days, but today in the valley, we got those huge, wet flakes that twist and twirl from the sky, almost like they're dancing their way down. It was the kind of snow that collects in the hood of your coat, melts instantly and then runs to the ground when you bend over to undo your boots. The kind that means you have to start laying out your hat and scarf to dry when you come inside because they're too wet to stuff into the sleeve of your jacket. <br />
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There is something so deeply exciting about the first real snowfall. Walking alone from the grocery store to the post office today, I caught myself tilting my chin to the sky and opening my mouth wide, trying to catch the snowflakes. When I told the kids about this, they said that the whole school was doing the same thing at morning break and lunchtime. Must be an instinctual response for those of us that love winter.<br />
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Esmée turned 8 yesterday. Her party is this coming weekend at the local community centre, but last night she had a few friends over for a raclette dinner. Freeze dance, playing with new playmobil and bugging the older brothers were the activities of choice. And of course, the requisite sparklers and loud (off key) singing....<br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-85863475736885444992011-11-17T10:14:00.001+01:002011-11-17T13:43:04.553+01:00it's in the air<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am sitting at our dining room table, the kids are at school, Jeff is still in Canada and it's so quiet that I can hear the hum of my laptop beneath my fingers. I love that. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sun is slowly making its way across the valley, taking with it the evidence of last night's hard frost. We have had weeks of sunshine and mild temperatures, not typical of November
and I feel like every drop of sunshine and ounce of warmth is a gift. We are living on
borrowed time. Winter will be coming to stay anytime. We were teased with a couple of early snowfalls around Canadian Thanksgiving in October, each one creating great excitement about the coming ski season and our first winter living in the mountains. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are many signs of what's coming. The shorter days - dusk arrives around 5pm (17:00 Euro speak) bringing an end to the sunshine and making me want to shut myself inside in front of the fire. The layer of frost that coats the ground each morning stretches as far as the eye can see, it's hue changing with the undulations of the ground. The shop windows in town tantalize passers-by with skis, ski suits, winter boots and lots of fur! Christmas is, of course, sneaking in already. A sparkle here, a bauble there. I even noticed some twinkling white lights outlining the entrance and windows of one of Saanen's hotels last night. Esmée has been playing Christmas music all week.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For ski enthusiasts like the Swiss and ourselves, a new sign almost as significant as the first real snowfall appeared this morning. It was still dawn, the early morning light was just starting to emerge from behind the mountains to the East. Eli noticed what he claimed to be a fountain of snow in the air a couple of hundred meters outside of our chalet. At first I thought it was smoke because they have been doing a lot of brush burning in the mountains lately. After much discussion and a few moments outside to listen for the distinctive noise of snowguns, our household decided that snow-making has begun on the Saanen Eggli. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was all the talk at school drop-off, confirming our conclusion - "did you see that they've started making snow on the Eggli"?, "yes, also in Rougemont", "it's getting late, they need to start making a base"... The excitement was palpable, skiers had an added spring in their step and I know that visions of carving turns danced in every one of their heads.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">puddles of snow at the base of the snowguns - </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">the early beginnings of a ski season</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And so, like the chair lifts below, we wait for that exhilarating first run of the year and the promise of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">a long, snowy winter in the Saanenland. We're ready, bring it on....</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGiZjCtnWzLjz0o508_oh6C8wrUtFra_gSOXAkZWjXbEXkaE_7UHcbFr4pb2SAv9QX1IQNMrpDahXEfp7HM9nq1sGBEBqVYJkylNc4j9qNshiFT-9lJL4pl_uE_DvHOvxBHniriwTZQ-e9/s1600/IMG_0407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGiZjCtnWzLjz0o508_oh6C8wrUtFra_gSOXAkZWjXbEXkaE_7UHcbFr4pb2SAv9QX1IQNMrpDahXEfp7HM9nq1sGBEBqVYJkylNc4j9qNshiFT-9lJL4pl_uE_DvHOvxBHniriwTZQ-e9/s320/IMG_0407.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com1Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-44982645360342943812011-11-13T21:48:00.001+01:002011-11-13T23:33:11.865+01:00Buda and Pest capture my heart<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part of the beauty of living in central Europe is the proximity to the rest of this continent. So when my friend Maggie asked if I'd like to meet her and her dear friend Sandy in Budapest, I jumped at the opportunity. Jeff is in Canada for three weeks working, so there were some logistical hoops I had to jump through. What to do with my children, for one. Well, actually that was really the only hoop - another beauty of living here is having the freedom to get up and go - no dogs, cats or donkeys to have to worry about.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As luck would have it, there were three beds available in the Boarding House and for a sum (not small, but definitely worth it), they could stay there while I travelled. The kids were very excited and have, in fact, been asking to board since we arrived in September. The boarding house is more like a frat house really, our kids come up with all sorts of excuses to hang out there after the school day is over. Last Sunday, we packed up their uniforms, sports equipment, books, ipods and all the requisite charging devices and I dropped them off bright and early Monday morning. Esmée was the most nervous - she would be the youngest boarder and was rooming with nice girls, but she didn't know them very well. The boys barely said goodbye, eager to assimilate into the boarding culture, unpack and hook up with their roommates before heading to class.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I arrived in Budapest just before sunset and met Maggie and Sandy outside St Stephen's Basilica, a Roman Catholic church built in the mid 1800s-early 1900s and it houses the mummified hand of St Stephen, Hungary's first King. It is a stunningly beautiful Neo Classical building and the most important Church in all of Hungary. Ironic maybe, but that was where we started our whirlwind tour of Budapest. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">St Stephen's Basilica</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Budapest was once 2 separate cities on either side of the Danube river, not surprisingly called Buda and Pest. Although they were formally united in 1873, the two feel quite different, even today. Historically, Buda was more residential, host to royalty and the wealthy while Pest was the more commercial centre.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">sunset on the Danube</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As Budapest locals for some 10+ years, we took our friends' Todd and Alex's recommendation and hired a guide for our first full day to help us get oriented and figure out where we wanted to dig a little deeper. It was a wonderful way to get to know a new city that is not known to be tourist-friendly and Oliver was fantastic. He was engaging and knowledgeable and drove us around while re-calling endless information about the country's tumultuous and cyclical past of domination, occupation and revolution. The last Russian soldier left Budapest in 1991 - not that long ago in the grand scheme of things. It feels like a lifetime ago that I studied Eastern European, WWI + II politics at Queen's and Oliver helped unearth the knowledge. Some things even sounded vaguely familiar! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We spent a few solid and intense hours at the TerrorHaz which commemorates the victims of terror under both the Nazi and Soviet occupations during and post WWII. Until 1956, the building itself was used as a Police Headquarters under both regimes and many, many Hungarians were brought there to be interrogated, detained and killed. It has since been transformed into an aesthetically beautiful, but haunting museum that includes among other things, photographs and lists of victims and victimizers (many of whom are still alive and living in Budapest today), a propaganda room, examples of weaponry and reconstructed cells and gallows. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another highlight was our trip to the Kiraly Baths. Budapest is known as the spa city with several public baths left over from the Turks. Kiraly, built over 500 years ago and supplied by thermal waters, was recommended by Oliver as his favourite bath in the city. Once in our suits, we emerged into an underground cave-like room with a number of pools. The ceiling was domed and the only natural light sparkled gently from the tiny circular holes in the roof. It was magical, like bathing under a starlit sky. There were only about 10 or 12 others there – all Hungarian. There were no English signs to explain each bath, no one was speaking our language and Oliver’s recommendation that it would be the most local experience did not disappoint.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A really wonderful trip full of intense history, delicious Hungarian foods like goulash, goose liver pate and loads of paprika, beautiful scenery, art + architecture. It was a real treat to see Maggie and get to know Sandy, we travelled well together and had a ball. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All's well that ends well. I arrived home to happy children who have made it known that they would like to stay at the boarding school again. They even went as far as asking if I would please go away again soon! I was aghast, offended, but once the bickering and fighting started among them, my mind started to wander. Where could I go next......</span><br />
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</div>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-35533876996574211022011-11-02T11:33:00.001+01:002011-11-02T11:33:17.308+01:00our first hospital visit + halloween treatsEli may be a little accident prone. His friends from Belfountain PS call him "Crippie" because he was laid up on crutches and casts more than a few times over his years there. Well, on Halloween afternoon, we got a call from the Kennedy school. A parent never likes to see the school phone number on their call display. You tend to answer the phone half holding your breath. The call went something like this -<br />
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<li>Hi Kara, it's Gareth (head of school). </li>
<li>Hi Gareth, is everything ok? </li>
<li>Well, Eli has had an accident, not an emergency kind of accident, but he's hit his head and I think it requires a visit to the hospital and possibly some stitches. Are you able to come and fetch him? </li>
<li>I'll be there in a few minutes, thanks Gareth</li>
<li>Ok, we'll see you soon. You don't need to rush. He's here in the office with me and he's fine, a little dizzy maybe, but don't break any speed limits on the way!</li>
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Here's what he looked like - <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa1UooJfQJUKKJW-LKf1tysHr43l9IAuVzzuHWIZUV8smgdepg9zmhobcCRFp0fGfTR_TeSsT39ugbqc_5PEMRebhWm0eQFSJgDQiUMR01PjDN5Aow-Weei65eNu_prODSuRpvEOEO3ps/s1600/IMG_0247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa1UooJfQJUKKJW-LKf1tysHr43l9IAuVzzuHWIZUV8smgdepg9zmhobcCRFp0fGfTR_TeSsT39ugbqc_5PEMRebhWm0eQFSJgDQiUMR01PjDN5Aow-Weei65eNu_prODSuRpvEOEO3ps/s200/IMG_0247.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJ26JNaZQ3LSF4Ezv_JILrfwY8kr9iLfIHHwg7WAR3pag_uTyk3YM2BU2pFqr5Oce2i8IKjYOsAj2bpC6gM8YSbwQANIhyphenhyphenXpIeH3CM21C33uXDH96cd2eVIe1sDx_6NdEpX-lUL21CUW_/s1600/IMG_0251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJ26JNaZQ3LSF4Ezv_JILrfwY8kr9iLfIHHwg7WAR3pag_uTyk3YM2BU2pFqr5Oce2i8IKjYOsAj2bpC6gM8YSbwQANIhyphenhyphenXpIeH3CM21C33uXDH96cd2eVIe1sDx_6NdEpX-lUL21CUW_/s200/IMG_0251.jpg" width="149" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"> </span>We drove 4 minutes down the road to the Saanen hospital. To use the word "efficient" doesn't even do the experience justice. We arrived and the school had called ahead to say we were coming. We followed the green dots on the floor to the next level and the "waiting room". Before we even had a chance to sit down, a man dressed in whites (not the tennis kind) collected us and took us into a room that had so much equipment I almost wondered if it was an operating room. There were 2 doctors (at least I assume they were doctors). They took a look, asked Eli a bunch of concussion-related questions, cleaned up the wound (small, but deep) and gave him a stitch. </div>
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Eli asked me, are you one of those mothers who is going to be less concerned about me and more focussed on getting the pictures? Of course, I replied, you're fine and we need blog material. The doctor asked if I was going to post them on facebook. It's a different world....</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my mother wondered if this was part of our halloween prep!</td></tr>
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With no signs of concussion, they were happy to let him go home. A quick report written by the white-coated facebooking guy who was in charge and we were off! Twenty-eight minutes had passed since we first entered the hospital. I kid you not. </div>
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A couple of advils and some make up application later, we were off to Gstaad to trick or treat. Halloween is not a national obsession in Switzerland like it is in North America, but these few families from the kids' school knew a thing or two about trick or treating. They hosted a fabulous night. Walking among the 6 houses was spooky enough, very few people live full-time in the Oberbort so it was dark and windy, even a little smoky from the few fires in the homes. Each house had the requisite glowing pumpkins, creepy music and mask adorned parent or nanny handing out loot bags of candy! I swear, they brought home more then in past years. No tricks, all treats..... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CYL11KT_HBIjEa6DboXtKOzzxyJs_fC85Z2OxiEvQgXYW9SmoCWoYtzSYK8jmHVJRdoDooW52rIVVU_wLHOJ1Caovs-KlfLlLFojxVmsFn_zmdXiS6wYzhB9ds6xEjPF9N-MgO0CJS70/s1600/IMG_0265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CYL11KT_HBIjEa6DboXtKOzzxyJs_fC85Z2OxiEvQgXYW9SmoCWoYtzSYK8jmHVJRdoDooW52rIVVU_wLHOJ1Caovs-KlfLlLFojxVmsFn_zmdXiS6wYzhB9ds6xEjPF9N-MgO0CJS70/s400/IMG_0265.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><br /></span></div>later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com0Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5188349667646583133.post-20767107419918644022011-11-01T14:27:00.000+01:002011-11-01T14:27:17.294+01:00the youngest catches up<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcmjWyZwAy_XUHRJ85l7liLbF1Xy91Po2gijaokVUw4_oMaG4_IapYum1MR8lNtaDLqhzeGV5XXMX5AggD_irk8nBFTOG-0vx7RiTjrhMfj7yswggUnBvfYUOVvt7-nP31ni6RDvokOC3/s1600/IMG_0300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcmjWyZwAy_XUHRJ85l7liLbF1Xy91Po2gijaokVUw4_oMaG4_IapYum1MR8lNtaDLqhzeGV5XXMX5AggD_irk8nBFTOG-0vx7RiTjrhMfj7yswggUnBvfYUOVvt7-nP31ni6RDvokOC3/s320/IMG_0300.JPG" width="240" /></a>Esmée has made her debut as a mountain biker - watch out! On Sunday, we lunched with the Lee family on the sun drenched patio of the Hotel Alpenland in Lauenen. It was a breathtakingly beautiful autumn day and hard to believe that we were moments away from November. We sat in t-shirts, noshing on rösti and schnitzel, gazing up at the Wildhorn which sits impressively at the end of the Lauenen Valley. It was so nice, in fact, that almost every square meter of the patio was occupied and there wasn't a single person sitting inside. <br />
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The mid-day feast was followed by a family bike ride through the forested trails that loop around the area. It was fairly flat and not too difficult, but bumpy - more like a mountain bike trail than a rail trail. This was really Esmée's first foray into the world outside of driveway or asphalt biking. She has never been an overly keen bike rider and had only first ridden her bike to school on the previous Friday (a slightly terrifying adventure for Jeff and I to witness as it's mostly downhill). <br />
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However, throw in another family who happen to have an older daughter who Esmée hugely admires and it changes everything. She dressed in her biking shorts, biking shirt and biking gloves. She was bound and determined to bike with the group and keep up. It was a wonderful ride. Esmée did remarkably well and we feel like we're now off to the races, so to speak.<br />
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<u><i>Photos courtesy of Rob + Tina Lee</i></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"> - we were too busy riding beside Esmée and shouting instructions to take pics!</span><br />
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<br />later, hosen!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212590926952551418noreply@blogger.com1Saanen, Switzerland46.4895082 7.264705946.4020512 7.1067774 46.576965200000004 7.4226344