Espania

Hola mi amogos! Unfortunately that is about the extent of my Spanish since I have started to learn German, but it didn't slow me down on my trip to ESPANIA!

Barcelona Coastline

This is the second trip that I have taken with my host family, and despite working on vacation, I could hardly complain. Traveling alone has its advantages, but staying in a hotel with a California King sized bed, a jaccuzi, indoor and outdoor swimming pool, and fancy breakfast - yes please! I took advantage of all the perks because opportunites like this don't come knocking twice.

The first three days we stayed at Hotel Mas Salvi in Pals, Spain, about 2 hours north or Barcelona in Coasta Brava. The hotel, opened only for a few months of the year and used mostly for weddings, is romantically secluded in the small town and gave me little wiggle room to entertain an energetic almost-3-year-old. As we were there to attend a wedding of a friend of my host dad's, I was in charge of the kid nearly 24 hours a day and even shared a room with the tyke. During the day I was with my host family and we took some day trips to neighboring towns or trips to the beach. I even did Tequila shots with my host dad on the beach, which was an experience in itself (the kid tried to steal it, which was highly entertatining).


The following three days after the wedding, we moved to Hotel Sa Punta which was a little more family oriented and closer to the beach. There was a huge pool, a nice yard, and most importantly I had my own room. We spend a lot of time at the beach and I did my best to get my tan on while protecting against skin cancer and a giant sunburn. I may have failed at not getting a sunburn since I am pretty sure I am borderline albino.



One of the highlights of the trip was a spontaneous evening in which one of the waitors at the hotel approached me one night and asked me to join him for a drink after work. I was in the mood for adventure and at half past midnight jumped in his car to find myself returning in the wee hours of the morning after a night full of dancing and glowing drinks (seriously, the water glowed!). While some might call me crazy for going out with a stranger in a foreign country in the middle of the night, I find that the locals are the best people to give a real experience so why pass up the opportunity to see the night life? I had a blast!

After six days with the family we parted ways, I hopped on a bus, and slept the 2 hour ride into Barcelona to meet my brother, Chris, and his girlfriend, Courtney, who were flying in from Paris that afternoon. After meeting at the hotel we soon realized there was a problem - apparently when the reservation was made it was made for 2 adults and a cot. Well aparently a "cot" means "baby bed" not "fold-out bed." I know I am an au pair and supposed to buck up in certain situations and take my place in the caste system, but sleeping in a crib is where I draw the line. I feed, clothe, and raise babies, I refuse to sleep like one too. So we canceled the reservation and ended up finding a cheaper place, in a better part of town, with a bedroom, living room, bathroom, and kitchenette. Yeah, baller.

Arc de Triomf

So if you have ever met me or my brother, you know that when we are together we are....something awesome. The night began with some light champagne and tapas and ended many hours later with an advil in the morning. The next day we got a slow start at about 11am when we headed for the beach. The three of us bummed on the beach for a few hours turning down all sorts of services offered by all sorts of nationalities trying to make a living off the thousands of tourists. I have to admit, it was almost as annoying as Mexico. Eventually we found our way wandering down the beach in the direction of Ice Barcelona, an ice bar on the beach (yeah, get jealous). We finally found our way there and after a short drink outside we met up with my my college friend, Scott, who happened to be in Barcelona the same weekend. Then, in my bathing suit and summer dress, I put on a sub-zero parka and fleece gloves and headed into the -11 degree celcuis bar. It was one of the coolest bars (pun intended) I have ever been in. The drink I had inside was delicious and it was hard work to keep the liquid from spilling out of my cup made of ice from my unavoidable shivering. That night was a repeat of the night before, including the delicious food and amazing mixed drinks. I have been to many countries, but Barcelona has by far the best mixed drinks of any other country I have ever been to. And that is a Fact.

Me and Chris at Ice Barcelona

Me in front of an ice sculpture of Sagrada Familia (Gaudi)

Dolce & Gabana Stilettos

The next day was my last full day in Barcelona before heading back to Zürich the following morning. I had two items on my agenda: Gaudi architecture and shopping. Courtney and I woke up early in the morning and left my brother behind to sleep and relax while we hit the stores. I have to say that Courtney is probably one of the best people in the world to shop with. She can spot cute stores with good deals and will be honest about how you look when you try things on. Oh, and if it is your birthday, she will downright spoil you. Chris has my everlasting approval of this chick for sure. After an entire morning of shopping I had bought a pair of flat shoes, a shirt from Desigual, a faux leather jacket, and a pair of Dolce & Gabana stilletos. Success is an understatement. In the afternoon we met up with my brother and after confirming that Rebecca Steiner should never ride a bike, we split ways so the couple could do a biking tour of the city and I could wander ever so slowly by foot to the various Gaudi masterpieces.

Well seeing as this blog is already ridiculously long and Gaudi is probably one of the few architects that is impossible to describe, I have attached a slideshow of my photos so you can get confused all by yourself. Enjoy!

Home Sweet Home

I don't care where you live or where you are from, there is no place like home. If you try to argue with me, that is fine, I will gladly tune you out.

I was lucky to have two friends get married and give me the world's best excuse to come home for two weeks. I flew directly from Zürich, Switzerland to Seattle, Washington (with a 5 hour delay in Philadelphia that turned slowly into 7 hours when a water leak was discovered on the plane). It took me 24 hours to finnaly arrive in Seattle (but with the time change I only lost about 13 hours), and I was beyond excited to be greeted at the airport by the bride-and-groom-to-be.

The following days left no time for jet-leg adjustments because of all of the wedding preparations - but boy was I excited! Over the past year I had spent hours on the phone with Christie listening to her swoon over Barry, hours scheming with Barry on how to get a ring on Christie's finger, 30 seconds booking it miles up a mountain ahead of the two to hide in the bushes for an hour while Barry popped the question, and then 9 long months in Switzerland awaiting the wedding. I am a hopeless romantic so I was more than ready to share the day when they tied the knot. The ceremony was beautiful, the reception was a blast, and I wouldn't have missed the occasion for the world. I mean, seriously, is there a prettier bride in the world? (If you are reading this and married, I am sure you were the prettiest bride in the world on your wedding day too, as will I be on mine!)



(I do not have pictures of the actual wedding as I was a Bridesmaid and have been told it is tacky to snap photos of a wedding you are in.)

While my time in Seattle was short and definitely more than sweet, I was excited to go home and spend time with my family and friends in Boulder, Colorado. The week was filled with lots of hugs, kisses (mostly sticky lip gloss ones from my mommy), and playing the guitar and piano. There is nothing better than returning home for two weeks of relaxation and rejuvination.

One of my favorite Boulder traditions is the Bolder Boulder - a 10k run/race through the city of Boulder on Memorial Day. I can remember numerous times as a child "running" this race with my best friend, Ali (and by running I mean hit every lemonade stand, sprinkler, and slip-and-slide along the way). This year, as I have been experiencing European culture (and cuisine) at its best, I did not run the race, but my parents did. So I went to the stadium in the morning to meet up with my parents after the race and watch the Memorial Day show. And it wouldn't be complete without the 6 skydivers and "Proud to be and American" by Lee Greenwood.



On June 2, my 25th Birthday, I was surprised with a mother/daugher facial followed by dinner at Outback Steakhouse for the perfect medium rare steak and mashed potatoes. I seriously ate it all...and then licked my cheesecake plate clean. I mean, seriously, you would think I had been starved in Switzerland (which I can assure you is not the case).

8 oz. Steak (cooked medium rare), 3 half lobster tails, mashed potatos, and broccoli. YUM!

Besides the wonderful food I ate and soul food of spending time with friends and family, I always spend time reflecting on the absolute beauty that Boulder, Colorado offers. I am sure that your hometown is spectacular, but I guarantee you that there is no place like Boulder. It will always hold a special place in my heart and will always, always be Home.

(Photo not computer edited)

Viva Italia

Venice is the kind of place I would love to get lost in - forever. The winding narrow walkways and twisting canals on this sinking island are enough for someone with a prefect sense of direction to get caught up in the atmosphere and succumb to the confusion of the city. I don't know if it is the romance of the country, the smell of fresh pasta and pizza, or the sound of the language echoing off the walls, but I have never felt more surrounded by Italy in my life. 

Heading into the weekend I was sure that I would spend my time in Venice being rowed about in a Gondela by a ridiculously handsome Italian Stalion who would sing to me as I laid back and fanticized about my own Under the Tuscan Sun future. Unfortunately the gondela rides were 100 Euros, not all of the men are as handsome as I made them out to be in my head, and every Gondelier I spoke to told me that they only sing in the shower. So instead I spent my time photographing, window shopping, and laughing to the point of not being able to breathe with Nynette. What may sound silly is that we really didn't spend time seeking out the well-known sights that are recommended in my tour guide book. Instead we preferred romaning the streets and adventuring down whatever street looked the most interesting at an intersection. Most of the time it was whatever street was less crowded in order to discover the best kept secrets of Venice.

Some people say that Venice is nothing you haven't already seen in the movies. If Venice was about high speed boat chase through the canals and leaving with $10 million in gold bricks, then yes, Venice is exactly what it looks like in the movies. Unfortunately I saw no such excitement on the island. Regardless of the fact that the movies reveal a nice backdrop of  the corridors that wind around the small island, canals, and lots of boats, Venice, Italy is actually not done justice by Hollywood. There is an unmistakable atmosphere in Venice that can only be experienced while physically present in the city. And no, the knockoff Venice Beach, California doesn't count. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I even blog about certain places when all you need to know is to put it on your "Places to See Before I Die" list. If you have such a list, I suggest putting Venice towards the top of your priorities.

Despite the ridiculous amount of people that shared Nynette's and my interest in visiting Venice on Easter Sunday weekend, we did a pretty good job avoiding the crowds of people and frequently found ourselves walking down corridors with not a soul in sight. Over 5 million people visit this city every year and while I am convinced that over half that amount populated the streets this weekend Nynette and I managed to still feel like we were the only two people wandering the island. We even busted out the iPod with speakers a couple times and had a dance party for two "from the window to the wall." On a couple occasions a native Italian stumbled upon our freak show, but surprisingly found our behavior entertaining and even joined in on our hip hop grooves as they passed by.





















Another entertaining aspect of the trip was staying in an International Youth Hostel (Ostello Venezia) and meeting several characters from around the world, including Australia, New Zealand, Argentina, Germany, and of course the USA. Making temporary friends over a shared bottle of the wine (only 6 Euros at the concessions stand) always makes for interesting conversation and exchange of accents, stories, traditions, and travel stories and suggestions. There is something comforting about the comonality of meeing other people on extended travel who are just drifting in time and taking advantage of what the world has to offer.

I think the best thing about traveling to Venice with a best friend is the ability to get lost in time and geographic location. We spent as much time as we wanted taking countless pictures of whatever peaked our interest, wining and dining (and then wining again), eating gilati, and continuing our game of "Your Team My Team" (refer to previous blog for explanation).

Another useful attribute about a best friend is that they can talk you into purchasing an outrageously expensive pair of shoes that never in a million years you would consider walking out of the store with but secretly can't live without. And better yet, when you come up short in cash, they chip in the difference as an early birthday present. All in all, if I had to do it all over again there is not one thing I would have changed about this trip. It was beyond paradise :)

The Glacier Express to Awesome

I am so blessed to have amazing friends. If you are reading this, I consider it a blessing that you would take time out of your day to get a preview of my life abroad. However, one friend in particular has greatly exceeded my expectations and flown all the way from Los Angeles, California to spend 10 days with me in my world. So this blog is dedicated to a Miss Nynette Marceth. Without her I would have taken the Galcier Express to the Matterhorn, but instead we took the Glacier Express to Awesome.

Saturday morning Nynette and I boarded a short train to Chur, Switzerland where we had a 30 minute layover (including a quick photo op of a Denver Broncos Banner randomly hung in the street) before the departure of the Glacier Express. As Nynette's travel book puts it, there is nothing "express" about the Glacier Express. The train crawls at a top speed of probably 30-40 mph and travels through one of the most picturesque treks in the Swiss Alps. It daparts from St. Moritz/Davos and 6 hours later arrives in Zermatt, Switzerland, the famous town at the base of the Matterhorn.

The Matterhorn at Noon

For obvious reasons, this particular train ride is a popular experience for tourists (such as Nynette and I). But no highly touristic experience is complete without the token Asian tourists (excuse the racist generalization, but don't pretend you don't know what I am talking about). For some reason Asian tourists, with their mega zoom lenses and baseball caps purchased at the local souvenier shop, somehow make everything more entertatining. I don't know if it is because they take pictures of everything and thus the rest of us are able to notice things that we may have missed otherwise or if it is because they travel in multi-generational herds, but no tourist experience is complete without these fabulously interesting people. This train ride was no excuse. About two hours into the ride, Nynette and my train cabin, which originally was virtually empty, was invaded by a family of Asians. At first, the kid playing video games on his iPad with the volume on blast-out- your-eardrums made these new travelers a nuisance, but after the concept of headphones was discovered Nynette and I spent the remainder of the train ride trying not to pee our pants laughing at an Asian man who was singing along out loud to his iPod without a care in the world. Another Asian man we are sure was randomly taking pictures of us throughout the ride and finally mustered up the courage to ask to take a picture of us...with the sequential picture setting that ended up being a dozen picture montage of us awkwardly smiling for the camera. Not to worry though, because I got revenge by returning the favor when the man was napping. Nevertheless our tourist experience on the train was completed by our fellow travelers. Between the scenery, great conversation (7 months of catching up to do), and comedic relief of the Asian tourists the ride was well worth the 54 Swiss Francs.

We arrived in Zermatt at around 4pm which was pleanty of time to check into our hotel before exploriing the ancent town. I had previously booked the hotel online soley based on the price and comepletely ignored the location so with the help of Google Maps via my Blackberry I was pleased to discover that it was on the side of the town closest to the mountain. However, I think Nynette and I can both agree that we could have gone without the Level 4 vertical ice pick climb we had to endure to get to the place. Ok, that was a giant exageration, but for two girls who constitute exercise as the distance to and from the snack cabinet, the hike was definitely a butt burner. After discarding our backpacks in the hotel room we headed back down the cliff to explore Zermatt.

The Matterhorn at Sunset

The first order of business was to eat dinner so we stopped at the first restaurant that had Racklette on the menu for only 7 Swiss Francs. We shared our meal, which was d-e-licious and then continued on to the center of town. We wandered past old chalets, wheat storage structures that have since been abandoned, and of course a million souvenier shops. We came to discover that the preceeding week was "Zermatt Unplugged" which was a compilation of performances by various upcoming artists as well as a few famous artists such as Seal, OneRepublic, and David Grey. Unfortunately the showcased artists performed earlier in the week, so instead of paying 67 Swiss Francs to watch a no-name band, we decided to sit outside the paper thin tent, listen to the music for free and play "Your Team, My Team."

Nynette and me

If you are with a good friend and have time to waste I highly recommend this game for endless entertainment. There is no winner, there is no loser, just hypothetical teams. You begin by people watching for a while and then you start accumulating your "team." You can add people to your own team as well as place people on your opponent's team. The rating scale is completely objective and there is no score keeping. The goal of the game is to estimate that you have more awesome people than lame people on your team. For example, if you see a tall dark and hansome man walking down the street with an irresistable swagger (refer to previous blog), it might be a good idea to snag him onto your team before you opponent snatches him up. Adversely, if that same man were to, say, trip over a crack in the sidewalk and roadrash his face upon impact with the concrete, it might be a good idea to force him onto your opponent's team before he ends up on yours. Here are some unfortunate souls who ended up on my team that night:


After playing "Your Team, My Team" until the moon rose well above the mountains, we decided to make our way back to the hotel for the night. Something you may have noticed in looking through my travel pictures is that I strongly believe that you can't express how much fun you are having in a photograph unless you are jumping. So when Nynette and I discovered the thermometer reading 6 degrees celcius, it was only natural for me to want a jumping picture below. Unfortunately, Nynette is, let's just say, an amature. After teaching her how to properly jump for the photo I got a goodie on the third take. Taking a jumping photo is somewhat of an art because you have to time it perfectly when the person is airborn or you get a lot of pictures of the person looking constipated. When it was Nynette's turn behind the camera all hell broke loose. I was jumping so many times with failed lense captures that there came a point when Nynette and I were sprawled out on the sidewalk laughing so hard everyone walking by thought we were both wasted drunk. A few people (pictured above, as they ended up on my team) stopped to inquire about our strange behavior. Finally, after a half decent picture was taken, we called it a night and headed back to the hotel.

The next morning Nynette and I woke up at the ungodly hour of 6:40am to take pictures of the sunrise on the Matterhorn. It turned out to be well worth it:

The Matterhorn at Sunrise

We went back to sleep until about 9:00 when we woke up, ate breakfast, showered, and started our day. One thing I would like to mention about European adventures in general, is that there are things that happen in Europe that would never happen in the USA. For example, building codes don't really apply to buildings built in the 1800s and are converted into hotels at a later time. So in Zermatt, it was no big deal to cram a bathroom in the atic of the building with ceilings so low that I literally had to shower on my knees because I couldn't stand up. Oh Europe, how I love you.

After the interesting shower experience, we packed up our things, checked out of the hotel and decided to go shopping. We wandered around Zermatt taking pictures, ducking into shops that caught our interest here and there, and buying a few things. Mainly postcards. At about 3:30pm we had seen enough of the little town and decided to head back to Zurich. On our way, we realized that we could hop off the train at any city on the way home and just catch another train back to Zürich at a later time. So that is what we did....

Zürich International Pillow Fight

So I apologize that I am posting about this a month late but in my defense I have just been too lazy. Lame but true. March 20 was International Pillow Fight Day. All over the world (yes, probably including your city) flash mob pillow fights broke out at 2:00pm in each respective time zone.

I initially heard about the phenomenon from my good friend Daniel and immediately did a quick Google search to find out if Zurich had such a thing...and what do you know, it did! A non-profit organization called "Urban Playground" plans different events throughout the year for adults to participate in turning the city into a playground. In February they planned the "Pants off Tram Ride" where participants would board various trams across the city of Zurich, only they wouldn't be wearing pants. When other inquired about the odd attire (or lack there of) the pant-less adventurer would simply reply that they "ran out of time" that morning. Pretty funny but a little extreme for my tastes.

However, hundreds of strangers partaking in a pillow fight? Absolutely. Fortunately it was a beautiful Zürich day with temperatures in the high 70s. I went to the meeting place, purchased my pillow for a mere 5 Swiss Francs, and marched my way with 500+ other participants along the Limatt River to the Grossmünster church in Niederdorf Old Town Zürich. I couldn't have asked for a cooler location to pummel people with a goosefeather sack.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept of a "flash mob" let me explain. Flash Mobs are ordinary people that gather in a specfic location, appearing to be regular pedestrians. At a certain time or with a specific cue, the people all gather together quickly, do a dance, performance, or this case have a pillow fight, and then after it is finished, go about their business like nothing unusual happened. Here is a fun youtube video of an example of a Flash Mob:



So at 2:00 in the afternoon a pillow fight involving 500+ people in Zürich broke out at the base of one of the most famous cathedrals in all of Switzerland. It lasted 30 minutes and left a layer of feathers that covered the ground. Inhaling the dust of the feathers was unavoidable. And every second was worth it.

The Mob

My Weapon of Choice

Feathers in the Air

The Aftermath

Stalked, Scammed, and Robbed

Last Tuesday I headed into the city for a morning playdate with two other Au Pairs at Coop City (local grocery and department store chain). Coordinating a two year old to get on a train for a day in the city is difficult enough with all the snacks, toys, diapers, etc. that need to be brought along, not to mention the kid loves trains, hates following directions, and didn't feel like staying seated in his stroller. So while I was juggling a thousand different things and not trying not to lose someone else's kid in the chaos of the city, I was apt to accept all the help I could get...even from complete strangers. So when a nice middle age man asked me if I need help carrying the stroller off the train my response was promptly "Yes please!"

Well I don't know if this guy is completely unaware of the scientific laws of balance or has never helped a damsel in distress unload a stroller from the train, but the dude tipped the entire stroller forward causing my giant survival kit and purse (sitting on the seat of the stroller) to tip over and spill out. Luckily my cat-like reflexes stopped the bulk of the avalanche of, well, frankly everything, from spilling onto the train track below, but alas, a small pack of tissue took the dive onto the lanes of destruction below. It was a small casualty for to magnitude of what could have happened...or so I thought.

The man apologized and I could tell he wanted to escape the situation the moment he saw my slightly annoyed expression. I said it was ok, and decided to just get on with my day. We headed off in quite a hurry to catch our tram to Coop City, and just as I was encouraging the toddler to make a dash for the tram that was about to leave us behind, I heard someone call out my name (which in a foreign country is a foreign occurance). I whipped around to see a guy from my old German class. At that point, I could hear the tram beeping to indicate its departure and I made a quick decision to cut my losses and just make smalltalk for the next 4 minutes until my next tram arrived. When it finally did, the guy from my German class (I couldn't remember his name) offered to help me on the tram. Again, "Yes please!" One stop later I was finally at my destination and I got another offer to help me get off the tram. Fantastic! ...until I realize that the dude was following me into Coop City to crash my playdate...awkward.

I finally met up with the other Au Pairs, let the kid loose in the children's play section of the restaurant, and introduced Havier (as I learned was his name) to my friends. Awkwardly, I invited him to sit down and join us still puzzled as to why he was even there. I thought maybe if I ignored him he would say he had to go, but instead he stayed. And stayed. And never went away. Finally, he said quietly to me so the others couldn't hear that he had been looking everywhere for me because he had something he wanted to tell me. This is the point when "awkward" turned into "downright uncomfortable." Regretfully, I took the bate and asked what he wanted to tell me. With tears in his eyes, the dude says "I love you." Buuuuuuuuhhhhhhh.....'scuse me?

I sat across the room from this guy twice a week for 8 weeks in a class in which we only spoke German. The class ended in November. It was April 29. I don't know if people see me as a walking dual passport and a secure future, but there is nothing romantic about a complete stranger confessing his undying love in a department store food court. And if that isn't disturbing enough, he confessed that he had waited for me outside of the old classroom building, looked all over Zurich for me, and was about to go visit the teacher to ask her if she knew where he could find me. Oh, did I mention that he said he couldn't eat or sleep without me? So after some uncomfortable rejections, the other Au Pairs finally caught onto what was happening and decided to help bail me out by asking him to leave. Eventually he left, but not before he begged me to tell him where he could find me. Yeah, nevergonnahappen.

Fast forward 30 minutes of three creeped out Au Pairs discussing all the defenses against Senor Stalker and it was eventually time for lunch. The other Au Pairs had to go their separate ways, so into the stroller went the kid and onto the streets of Zurich went I to find lunch. Upon arriving at the Bratwurst place I realize that the second to worst thing in the world had happened. My wallet was missing. (The first worst thing would have been my cell phone in case you were wondering). I searched through the multitude of bags I had brought and nothing. Without panicing (ok maybe a little panicing), I convinced myself I had accidentally left it at home and quietly crossed my fingers that my poor Geldtasche hadn't met the same fate as my tissues.

With no money clearly there would be no lunch, so off to the bank I was going to do. Just as I was about to excuse myself from the lunch line, at the worst possible time, Senor Stalker showed up again from out of nowhere. I don't know if he secretly followed me or I just happen to stumble on where he went after he left, but I stared him straight in the eyes and said firmly and loudly (so other people in line would hear) "You need to leave me alone!" Awkwardly, he looked side to side and wandered away. Luckily I haven't seen him since.

So now that I have accepted the fate of the lost wallet that I never found at home, I have slowly taken steps to replace my credit cards, IDs, etc. that was in the wallet. Luckily there wasn't any cash inside and the only irreplacable thing I lost was a stick of Spearmint Chapstick I stole from a friend that you can only buy in the USA. Unfortunately, everything else costs money to replace. In addition, to replace my Swiss ID and Swiss drivers license I had to fill out a police report. After filling out the paperwork to the best of my ability (in German) I explained the story to the police officer. What do I come to find out? That the stroller tipping was a scam to get my wallet to fall out. Fantastic. I look like a young single mother and I get scammed and robbed at the train station. Seriously, who does that?!

The moral of the story: I am overly trusting of complete strangers and should learn to keep my guard up and my purse zipped. Lesson learned.

Lech, Austria

Let me start by saying that I missed you too. It has been too long since I have posted a blog and even longer since a decent, remotely entertaining blog post has been published. But have no fear, I actually have done something in my life worth reporting about: I went to Austria. And more importantly, I went skiing in Austria!

Lech am Arlberg

On Friday, we (being my host family and yours truly) packed the car and drove a mere 2.5 hours to the neighboring country of Austria. I would love to share about the amazing sights I saw on the road, but I fell asleep in the back seat of the car next to the kid and didn't wake up until Leichtenstein.

Leichtenstein is tiny. You blink and it's over. There are more students at the University of Colorado than there are people in the entire country of Leichtenstein. In fact, in the last winter Olympics, they estimated that in order for the USA to send the same percentage of people to the games as Leichtenstein, the USA would need to have over 25,000 qualifying athletes.



Hotel Plattenhof


Upon arriving at our destination in Lech, Austria, we unpacked the car and got settled into our hotel. This is where things got really exciting: I got my own private room on a different floor from my host family. Such a luxury is a rarity among au pairs and I took advantage of every second. Long showers, lounging around in whatever I felt like wearing (or not wearing), and listening to music while singing and dancing around became daily habits.

One thing I have learned about traveling with the financially blessed is that no detail is forgotten. Both breakfast and dinner at the hotel were included in price of the rooms, and I am not talking about the skimpy assorted toast breakfasts and buffet dinners. I am talking bacon, eggs, crossoints, and fresh fruit every morning and 5 course meals every night. And you bet I savored every moment of someone else's 5 star cooking (and when it is free it tastes that much better). Veal? Duck? Pork? Yes please!

What I found surprising about Lech was that the town didn't look that much different than a ski town you might find in Switzerland. It wasn't until my good friend Wikipedia told me that Lech was founded in the fourtheenth century by Walser migrants (people from the Canton of Wallis in western Switzerland) that it all made sense.



Lech, Austria

On Saturday, it snowed near blizzard status. It made for a semi-miserable walk in the mountains, but a fantastic ski Sunday. Sunday morning I rented skis (courtesy of my host family) and hit the mountain with my host mom for the day. I wasn't planning on skiing hard, but I put the pedal to the metal and shot down the mountain like I did when I was 7: fearless. At about 2pm my host mom decided to meet up with the dad and kid so for the next 2 1/2 hours I was a "fast machine" with my good friends AC/DC and Guns N' Roses.

Saturday Blizzard



Lech am Arlberg



Lech am Arlberg

Unfortunately, it is pretty late in the ski season and the snow got pretty wet by the afternoon. The powder from the blizzard the previous day melted by lunch time and left behind heavy slush. The only way I can describe the texture of the snow is to say that it was like if you poured a packet of sugar into your mouth and waited until it all got a little moist. The only time I fell was 50 meters from the bottom of the hill at the very end of the day because my ski literally got stuck in the weight of the snow. But nevertheless, the top of the mountain was great and I had a absolute blast.
 
On Monday my host parents hit the mountain while I took the little tyke sledding and swimming. The day went by quickly and I was rewarded with a super fancy 6 course pork dinner with wine included. Tuesday, my last day in Austria, I spent shopping in the town and only bought the most touristy things I could find...naturally. All in all Austria isn't that much different from Switzerland, but it was great to see another foreign country and experience a vacation at a calibur that I am not so accustomed to in my line of work. Sign me up for the next family vacation please!

Six Months of Success and One Day of Failure

So I am very proud to announce that I have lasted just over six months living in a foreign country, tackling an impossible language, and fending off European men. The road has gotten a little rough at times and I have hit a few potholes, but overall I would say that I have rocked at life since my move... until today.

I was sitting at the dinner table, enjoying a well-prepared meal by yours truly, and chatting with the host family about my upcoming travel aspirations. I had just fixed myself a perfect piece of bread with avocado, cheese, and salami and after finishing the open faced sandwich and licking my fingers, my host mom looks at me and says, "You know that was horse salami....right?" FAIL.

I believe it was in one of my first blogs where I outlined my disgust of a culture that would eat beautiful creatures like horses and swore that, along with cats and dogs, I would never eat horse. And the worst part? I do the grocery shopping. So not only had I eaten Thunder, but I had paid for, thus condoned, the slaughter of him too. 

I'm a Broncos fan. I feel sick.

Swagger

It has come to my attention over the past five and a half months that I regularly have miscommunications with people in Switzerland. I realize that being American and living in a European country that has 4 official national languages, a ridiculous amount of dialects, and a population consisting of 20% foreign immigrants, that miscommunication comes with the territory. However, there is one word that I have made reference to countless amount of times and without fail, it is always followed by a blank stare. Every. Single. Time. The reason I am devoting an entire blog to this word is because if you don't understand this concept you will never fully understand me.

So listen up Switzerland and all the inhabitants of the world reading my blog who are unfamiliar with the word "Swagger," 'cause you're about to get a crash course:

Swagger: (swgr) intransitive verb. The way one presents themselves, from outward appearance to attitude and conduct, that exudes bold confidence often in attempts to impress others.

Now I need to break it down a little further because it isn't as simple as just being confident. The way in which someone carries themselves as they walk down the street, the manner in which one styles their wardrobe, the words they choose in conversation, the music they listen to, the car they drive, etc., are all combined to make "Swagger."

Like most personality traits, there is a positive and negative side of swagger and it is important to outline the differences because you should never mistake one for the other. To make it clear which swagger I am talking about, positive swagger will be referred to as "Swagger" and negative swagger will be referred to as just "swagger."

"Swagger": Positive swagger (left) attracts you, turns a glance into a gaze, and captures your attention for an unexplainable reason. The outward appearance catches your eye initially, but it's the attitude that draws you in. There is a certain underplayed confidence and superiority that is intriguing. Positive swagger has a sense of class, refinement, and exclusivity that negative swagger lacks. Swagger has a certain poise and polish that takes a specific personality type to perfect. It is the understatement of superiority combined with independence that is all wraped into one delicious piece of eye candy.

"swagger": Negative swagger (right) is when you look at someone and think to yourself that under normal circumstances you might be attracted to them, but for some reason you aren't, and in fact, you are a little repulsed. It's like the feeling you get when you get a whiff of strong cologne that, had it been in a much smaller dose, might actually have smelled nice. Negative swagger doesn't yell in your face, it screams. It is the attention whore who is so desperate to be in the spotlight that they might actually bring their own to the party. Flavor Flav is the extreme case of bad swagger with his gawdy jewlery and oversized accessories. Pauly D (pictured right) is a better example of a certain kind of pathetic swagger that is more commonly seen. Under normal circumstances, had he conducted himself with an ounce of class, one might notice that he isn't so unfortunate looking. But add a bad suit, high-top haircut, fist pumping, and pointing at cameras in almost every photoshoot, and you have yourself a pretty good example of behavior that should never be repeated.

One needs to be careful in distinguishing between the two types of swagger because bad swagger often tries to disguise itself as good Swagger. Immediate behavioral indicators of negative swagger is that the person is always doing something to get noticed. If you have Swagger, there is no need to draw attention to yourself because you already have attention (and trust me, you know it). Swagger is sitting in the corner sipping on a glass of their choice drink while swagger is dancing on the table with the whole bottle.

I hope that you have found my Swagger lesson to be informative and you now know what I am talking about when I say the word. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Switzerland has neither positive nor negative Swagger. Nope, none at all.