Swiss Mrs.

I've never felt like a princess, but somehow I wound up with a fairy tale wedding and a prince to boot. Of course as a little girl I fantasized about my wedding day. 'We should have it right here in the backyard,' my mother used to say as we gazed over the lawn and our spectacular view of Pomona, CA. 'We could rent tables, chairs, linens and it would be really nice.' Logistical problems such as where one hundred guests would use the toilet and park their cars in our two bathroom house at the end of a cul de sac never bothered us, but I suppose that's what fantasies are good for. Anyway, my big day always felt too far into the future to justify prematurely choosing china patterns and wedding gown styles the way some gals do. Even after I figured out that Mickey was 'the one'derful guy for me, I felt like I might jinx something by dreaming about our future wedding.

After we got engaged, the bridal magazines never thrilled me the way they did when I was just a bridesmaid. In fact, they completely overwhelmed me and I avoided them whenever possible. The brides in the photos didn't look like they had to deal with appeasing conservative, religious in-laws, a tight budget and a groom who would have rather eloped. He tried to compromise with me suggesting that we invite just our immediate families to a small ceremony, but I (or was it my ego?) felt that our union deserved a bit more pomp and circumstance.

Two months and many tears later, Mickey and I started to fall in love with Switzerland and latched onto the idea of having our wedding here. He was pleased with the size of the affair (25 people) and I was pleased that he was agreeable to having a wedding at all. Truthfully, though, Mickey has been very generous and has consented to celebrating with a bigger reception when we return home to California. The idea of the Swiss wedding was born in February, after my mom and some friends had already booked their tickets to Zurich during their summer vacations. If we wanted our nuptuals to coincide with these visits, it would have to take place in the month of July and that left only four months to plan.

In the states it would have been impossible. All the popular spots to tie the knot would have been booked at least a year in advance. And even if some locations were still available, we would have spent a month of weekends scouting them, taking pictures of each and comparing prices. On top of all this, planning a wedding in Switzerland would involve the additional challenges of not knowing how to find what I wanted and not speaking the local tongue. Considering what I was up against, it seemed as though I wouldn't be able to pull off a beautiful wedding in four months and maintain my sanity. But I did, and my big day exceeded my expectations. Even I was stunned by this success and now reflecting on the experience, I think I know why...

It is my firm belief that the length of time a bride has to plan a wedding directly correlates to the amount she will worry about it and thus enjoy it less. For instance, if you have a year and a half to plan a wedding, you can spend two months poring over stationery catalogs before choosing the perfect invitations. You also have enough time to match the color of the ribbons on your invitations exactly to the hue of the jordan almonds you will painstakingly wrap in tulle with a tiny note that says 'Amy and Jack - March 4, 2008.' But then you find out another month later, that the vendor no longer makes jordan almonds in sea foam green and you feel frustrated, frustrated because you actually let this minuscule detail get to you and irritated that you spent hours choosing the invitations that your guests will eventually throw away. With four months and 25 guests there is no time for invitations and you skip this step and the worry that accompanies it.

I guess I lied when I said that I didn't read any bridal magazines because I read every word of the People magazine special wedding issue that my friend Jessica brought from the states. It was filled with all kinds of fun facts about weddings in the US and pictures of the most hideous bridesmaids dresses you could dream up (or have nightmares about). I learned that more than a million weddings take place in the US each year and realized that this enormous number played into why my Swiss wedding planning experience didn't leave me pulling my hair out. It's pretty simple; in a booming bridal industry, marketers and vendors offer brides thousands of options. And usually, options are a good thing, but I get overwhelmed by that volume of variety and thus found it refreshing to have to pick from only three gown shops in town. I know David's Bridal would have eaten me alive; I would have left that place begging Mickey to reconsider the court house wedding plan. In Zurich, I visited three small bridal shops and chose a gorgeous gown in just a couple of hours. Likewise when it came to choosing a venue we knew we wanted a Swiss castle (down to 30 choices or so) and we didn't want our guests to have to travel far from Zurich to get to it (1 choice). Now that's not so bad.

Part of my satisfaction with our wedding day stems from the fact that we tailored it to suit our personalities, not the demands of parents or anyone else. While traveling in Austria this week, my mom met a newlywed couple from New Delhi on their honeymoon. 'Was it a three day affair?' my stepdad asked. 'Five days,' they said with a sigh. 'Was it fun?' The groom shook his head and replied, 'Indian weddings aren't about the bride and groom.' I find this kind of sad, but it makes me feel grateful that Mickey and I decided to have what we called our 'personal ceremony.' Because we aren't religious, we decided to have a Swiss government official marry us. They have strict rules about what the civil ceremony entails and where it can take place. Ours refused to give us the content of her speech because she wanted it to be a surprise to us. I like surprises, but I wanted to be sure that I could still walk down an 'aisle' and exchange vows we had written together. So, we decided to conduct this personal ceremony involving Korean wedding ducks, a beautiful passage from my mom and some of the first emails Mickey and I had ever exchanged. The beauty of meeting your partner online is that the beginning of your relationship, that sweet, unsure, high drama getting to know you bit is documented. We embarrassed ourselves by reading these initial messages to our guests, but it was worth it because the result was a sincere yet light hearted moment. It felt like us and I'll cherish it always.

Of course, I was a little sad that many friends and family members were not there that day. But the fact that Mickey and I could spend quality time with the people who were there made up for it. If there are any brides out there reading this, remember that giving yourself a lot of time and options with which to plan your wedding is sensible, but it can stress you out too. Besides, a wedding is only the first day of a hopefully happily ever after.

When in Rome... Hop on a Train to Tuscany and Don't Look Back

We did it. We spent two weeks traveling through Italy at the peak of tourist season and despite scorching temperatures, inflated prices and sour service we still managed to have a wonderful trip. Even more astounding is the fact that we are still friends with Andrew and Alyssa, our faithful and rather useful traveling companions at the end of two solid weeks together. Their traveling experience is more limited than Mickey's and mine, but they are so much better at it. Perhaps it was last summer's excursion to Tanzania via Dubai that toughened them up and helped them prepare for virtually anything. I guess when you've had to practice sleeping with the sheet over your face so that lizards climbing on the ceiling won't fall in your mouth, you're not afraid of even the grossest Italian squat potty. Anyway, it was a joy to have this adventure with friends who actually remembered to pack things like wrinkle releasing spray for suitcase weary clothing, baby wipes for sticky hands post-gelato and a perfect travel Scrabble board for fellow nerds on long train rides.

So great company partially explains the success of our trip. Fresh pasta, a daily dose of gelato, cheap wine, beautiful views and (as much as we may not want to admit this to Mickey) the Rick Steve's Italy 2007 guide book also must have contributed to our contentment in Italy because it certainly wasn't my naive strategies. Now that I have returned, I'll reexamine my three pronged attack and attempt to offer some real words of travel wisdom.

1. Forget learning synonyms for 'beautiful' or 'amazing.' In cities like Rome and Venice, more words to express 'hot' and 'crowded' would have been handier. Seriously, leave the thesaurus at home because what you really need is a secret code. A couple of friends have admitted to me that they sometimes lie about their nationality while travelling abroad, telling folks that they are Canadian when they are actually American. I can understand wanting to distance oneself from Dubya and current politics, but I am not ashamed of who I am and where I come from. Also, I think it is unfortunate that many of the people who do this (deny their American citizenship) are some of the more conscientious travelers who might have otherwise given Europeans a better impression of what we Americans are really like. Anyway, these were my feelings before I came to Italy and realized that my friends and I could never undo the damage already done by hoards of rich, fat and ig'nant American tourists. All hope was officially lost when we noticed a group of three American youths trailing behind their People to People Young Ambassadors tour group because they stopped to graffiti their names into the Italian cliff side. And the whole purpose of their trip was probably to improve relationships and understanding between Europe and the US!

Again, so what you need is a secret code. Let your waiter or your tour guide overhear you and your crew speaking code. Perhaps they won't mentally lump you in with the other lot of ethnocentric barbarians and you may get better service. Speaking code is also useful when you want to talk trash about someone who speaks and/or understands the same language as you. Remember, your code doesn't have to be as elaborate as Klingon or Elvish. You just have to be able to say things like, 'can you believe that hick just touched the bronze statue?' or 'this ape needs to go back to the Cleveland zoo!'

2. I now realize that 'one museum per day' should not be set in stone, a guideline, sure, but not a hard and fast rule. In order to not get museumed out, you must adhere to a schedule built around your siesta, gelato break and cocktail hour. Insert these activities into your plan first and see which museums you can work around them. By the end of the trip, we had it down:

7:15am - Get up and prepare yourself for the day (too bad if you partied hard the night before)

7:45am - Eat the hotel breakfast and don't complain if they don't stock peanut butter. Go wild with Nutella and prosciutto and when that gets old, fall back on muesli.

8:15am - When possible, make a reservation for a museum or church before your visit to avoid waiting in long lines. If this isn't possible, don't worry because the crowds and heat will definitely be less intense at 8:15.

8:45am - Sightseeing can be really costly if you routinely pay for an audio guide on top of the price of admission. If you download podcasts of museum tours of your attraction ahead of time, you can walk right on by the audio guides and save your six Euros for something edible.

10:45am - Find an outdoor food/produce market and shop for lunch. Even if you aren't hungry now, by the time you and your friends actually find the market, decide what to buy and where to picnic, you will be. Besides, these markets are fun and less costly than a restaurant.

12:00pm - People-watch while you picnic. Don't forget to speak only in code.

1:30pm - Siesta time! This is the hottest part of the day and you need to spend it in an air conditioned room with your feet up. Nap, read or watch local TV. If your travel buddies are funny, you can play that game where you are watching a show in another language and you dub in what you imagine they could be saying Mystery Science Theater 3000 style.

3:00pm - Get up; it's time for gelato! Consult your guide book to find the very best gelateria and go there. Try at least two different flavors every time you go.

3:30pm - Do something that doesn't require all of your attention and doesn't involve anything you learned (or should have learned) in school. Go shopping at a market where vendors will haggle over prices with you; who cares if you don't actually get a good bargain, if you even attempted to negotiate you can bring a story home along with your souvenir. One fella acted really offended when I asked him politely but confidently for a little discount, but I am told that this is part of their game. If you are broke, go for a walk in a garden. If you feel that you must see another attraction, go wine tasting or take a tour of a local brewery. Intensive sightseeing can feel like work if you don't mix it up a little.

5:30pm - Soak up as much night life as you can by having an aperitif in one bar/restaurant and dinner in another. The menus will let you know which dishes are local favorites, but go out of your way to taste test the local cocktail as well. In Venice we discovered that our palettes are not sophisticated enough to enjoy Campari, but the Bellini, a cocktail consisting of nectar of white peaches (keep it pulpy) mixed with champagne, was a taste of sweet serenity.

6:30pm - Because portion sizes vary from restaurant to restaurant, order your meal course by course. We made the mistake of ordering while famished and were too stuffed to fully enjoy the secondi piatti when it finally came around. Take it slow because you're on vacation and yes, they are charging you for table service so you might as well make the most of it.

8:30pm - See your age and marital status below for instructions regarding your evening:
Under 25 and single - go out to a bar/club and live it up. If you don't know where to go, find some Australians and follow them around.
Under 25 and single and broke - find a liquor store and brown paper bag it back to the hostel. If the people there are lame, walk around and look for other people who are broke and cruising the streets.

Ever been out on a Friday or Saturday night in a middle/upper class suburban shoppertainment center and seen those seventeen year olds blaring music from cars they don't pay for? It turns out this is universal because young kids in Venice do it too, even though there are no cars in Venice and they have to cruise for girls in a motor boat. No joke, these guys had pimped out their boat with a high quality but ostentatious sound system and played techno tracks while the tourists stared. I was in a weird mood when they passed under the bridge I was standing on so I started to dance around wildly and acted like I was totally into their music. I figured that once they noticed their little parade was attracting the attention of not the young and hot but a strange, married tourist, they'd realize that they were lame. But they just continued to play their music and drifted away through the canals.

Over 25 and married - Go to a movie. Many tourists don't consider seeing a film while traveling abroad because they don't want to waste time doing something they could do at home, but going to the theater is one of my favorite ways to experience local culture. I've seen movies in Edinburgh, London, Paris, Ireland, Holland and Switzerland and I haven't forgotten which movies I saw where because the cinema experiences are rather memorable. Even though I never treat myself to the concessions at home, I couldn't get over the two bottles of Heineken and a bucket of popcorn deal in Amsterdam. I also think that watching advertisements and trailers are much more fun in a foreign country; I find them much racier and more graphic than those we are used to at AMC.
Over 25 and married and nerdy/broke - Buy a bottle of wine and drink out of hotel glasses while playing board/card games. Didn't bring any? Try charades, truth or dare or that one game where everyone sticks the name of a famous person to their forehead and tries to figure out who they are. That game isn't actually much fun, but taking a picture of someone with a piece of paper awkwardly stuck upside down on their forehead is funny later.
Over 50 - Go to bed! You're getting up at 7:15 the next morning, remember?

3. The only one of my previous suggestions for not getting museumed out that was fairly right on was the one encouraging the traveler to read books, watch movies or TV shows (even The Bachelor: Rome if you must) that take place in your destination city. It makes seeing the sights in person all the more exciting. This is why Salzburg is cool even if it's really not because The Sound of Music was filmed there.

And speaking of movies and TV shows, I have a new theory that has yet to be tested that high culture might best be enjoyed when contrasted with not low culture, but pop culture perhaps. Again, if you're bombarding yourself with the extraordinary: the Louvre, St. Peter's, etc. then you become a bit desensitized to the beauty and enjoy it less. What would happen if you balanced every trip to a museum with a quick shot of something frivolous like an episode of The Office from itunes or Wayne's World during siesta time? Somebody please try this and let me know how it goes. If you have already tried it, I'm dying to find out if reading a Sophie Kinsella novel the night before you visit the Uffizi intensifies the experience.

Staying Amused in the Museum

My recent run-in with the Mona Lisa at the Louvre has made me a little nervous about my upcoming trip to Italy. I probably won't visit a museum as immense or crowded as the Louvre, but I understand that the cities of Rome and Florence are so densely packed with fine art that they may as well be open air galleries. Strange as it sounds, I don't know how I will deal with all this art. For many, art isn't something that needs to be dealt with. Indeed, these people are content with simply basking in the magnificence of masterpieces. I, however, am afraid that all the creative brilliance might leave me feeling museumed out.

You can get museumed out (or churched out, as the case may be) when you've seen so much beauty that you stop appreciating it. It's only natural; when faced with the extraordinary for several consecutive days, it ceases to seem special. I believe some have a greater capacity to be inspired by genius, but we all have a limit. You know you may have reached yours when you are secretly overjoyed that the church you planned to visit is closed for renovation, or when sitting in the hotel room watching Alf in Italian seems more appealing than the local gallery.

I am very excited about this trip to Italy and I love the people with whom I am travelling. Because I don't want to spoil it for all of us, I've developed a three-pronged strategy for combating the symptoms of getting museumed out:

1. Relive my SAT prep days by scouring the thesaurus for synonyms for the word 'beautiful.' When gazing at yet another culturally significant work of art or architecture I need not fall back on the word 'cool' to express my sentiments. I'll throw out 'isn't that resplendent?' to keep it fresh.

2. Set a cap on the number of churches and/or museums I can see in a single day. If I happen to walk by a church, fountain or important looking sculpture, after I have met my quota, I will simply have to walk the other way or cover my eyes and have Mickey lead me to an art-free zone. Even if my friends want to see another museum after I have reached my cap, I will hold my ground and decline. If this means I must spend the afternoon shopping and eating gelato, I am prepared to do that in the name of not getting museumed out.

3. Remember the lesson learned from the Louvre and read up (or listen up) on the art prior to viewing it to enhance my appreciation and enjoyment. If I had even more free time, I would read a novel, set in modern times or historical fiction, about the places we are about to visit. Nothing gets me more psyched up about travelling than reading a great story set in your destination. I started John Berendt's City of Falling Angels in Preparation for my trip to Venice, but to be honest, watching ABC's The Bachelor: Rome got me pumped about this trip.

At the end of two weeks in Italy, I'll let you know how these strategies held up.

Mona Lisa Not Smiling Yet

You know you're marrying the perfect guy when he takes you to Paris for the weekend of your birthday. The trip was everything you'd imagine a romantic adventure in Paris should be; we walked hand in hand down St. Germain des Pres and stopped in charming cafes for a pain au chocolat during the intermittent rain showers.

Mickey and I had both visited Paris five years ago separately with friends. He and his crew made it to the Louvre on that trip, but I had never been so we decided to go together. Neither of us are fans of art, but we occasionally visit museums because it seems like the thing to do when you travel to a foreign city. I made up my mind that I couldn't leave Paris a second time without having seen the Mona Lisa not because I truly wanted to see it, but quite honestly, because I would've felt guilty if I hadn't. So there we were in the most famous museum housing the world's most famous work of art, Leonardo DaVinci's Mona Lisa. But when I should have been enjoying the splendor of the Louvre, I felt only frustration.

Because there are literally ten miles worth of gallery space in the Louvre, a first time visitor must carefully plan her route through the former palace. Acting like a high schooler on an academic scavenger hunt, I followed the signs leading the way to the Mona Lisa. I knew we were in the right place when I saw what looked like hundreds of people vying for a glimpse of a painting behind bullet proof glass. Mickey and I joined the herd and edged closer and closer to DaVinci's masterpiece. It is embarrassing to admit this, but my first thought upon viewing the Mona Lisa was 'it's really... small, actually.' Immediately I cursed myself for being a philistine incapable of appreciating art, whose impression of the world's most famous painting focused on its size.

But I wasn't only angry at myself, I felt like the whole world was playing some trick on us. True, the Mona Lisa wears an intriguing grin. But I don't understand how that expression made her one of the most recognized images in the world, priceless, protected by bullet proof glass and a team of museum employees who kindly but firmly tell visitors not to take photos. Sure, I could read piles of art history books about precisely this subject. Indeed, having more knowledge would allow me to write a more informed blog post, but would it help me to gaze on DaVinci's famous portrait and smile back?

My guess is, perhaps. I can appreciate art when I gauge how difficult it would have been for me or someone else to replicate it. For instance, I can admire sculpture because I believe that chiseling a life-like human form from rock requires special talent and cannot be done by the average person. Likewise, I can appreciate paintings that accurately or imaginatively depict real people and places because they require tremendous skill. Thus, admiring the pure artistry of Michelangelo's David or the works of Salvador Dali is easy for me.

And then there's modern art. I'm sure we've all visited MOMA at one point or another and thought 'I could've done that' while perusing the galleries. The Louvre houses thousands of pieces of art, mostly renaissance and classical, but a couple of modern pieces have managed to sneak in. On the floor of one of the French Classical sculpture galleries is a snaking tube, perforated with large holes from which strawberry plants grow. I stared and wondering how that could possibly be art. Would it still be art if they grew zucchini instead? If I flew a kite through the adjacent sculpture gallery, would that be art?

I was thoroughly confused, but my walk through the sculpture gallery/strawberry patch helped me realize that art was not limited to the category of 'that which your average Joe could not have created.' After reflecting for a while and kicking myself for not taking at least one art history class in college, I realized that there is another way for people like me to understand and enjoy fine art. I thought back to my unusual experience of actual satisfaction at an art museum, the Museum Rietberg here in Zurich, to be specific. The main building was closed for renovation but a small annex housing Indian paintings from the 18th century remained open. There I wandered from piece to piece with genuine interest because the subject matter was familiar. A year's worth of South Asian Studies classes had helped me identify the different characters of the Ramayana and the Bhagavad Gita and their moralistic dramas in each painting. In other words, I had fun because I had a sense of the context behind the painting.

And perhaps the same goes for the Mona Lisa. If you want to not only see her but also understand why she smiles from behind bullet proof glass, you'll have to learn more about her. Sometimes I wonder if even a three hour lecture could convince me that a strawberry patch or a blank canvas is museum worthy and thus valuable. I used to get frustrated and wonder why a hot dog from a street vendor isn't art, but now I believe that in the proper context and with the right intentions, maybe a hot dog could also be art. Take my advice and don't leave Paris without ... renting the audio guide.

Cheerio

The virus that left me begging for a soft couch and a submarine sandwich forced us to cancel a trip to Ticino, but I didn't let it spoil a glorious bank holiday weekend in London. By Friday morning, I had beaten the virus and packed my bags. It turns out that I didn't pack them with enough sweaters though because the weather was nasty and, well, English, but we still had a fantastic time. A business trip to Google's London office inspired the trip and we began to wonder how our lives would be different if we had chosen London over Zurich as our European home away from home. How would we fare as residents of London? In order to answer that question, we had to ask ourselves several others.

Could we afford it?

After glancing at the prices for basic travel goods and services, shoppers accustomed to paying with the American dollar think the numbers look right, even reasonable. A room in a Bed and Breakfast: 100, okay that's fine; an entree at Middle Eastern restaurant: 14.50, great; a movie ticket: 9.50, not bad. And then you find out that the British pound is worth more than two American dollars and you realize that this trip to London will be your last for a while.

Friends who have lived there argue that 'if you're earning the pound,' London is affordable and you can enjoy a decent standard of living. Mickey's current arrangement with Google allows him to work in Switzerland while still based in Mountain View and paid in dollars. The company has made it easy for us to move here and I imagine they would've done the same in London, but perhaps we'd never get over the shock of paying for two movie tickets and thinking, 'whoa, that cost me forty bucks.'

What could I do?

Perhaps Mickey wouldn't earn the pound, but I could! It is easier for expats to secure working visas in the UK than it is here in Switzerland and I wouldn't "have to" work as an au pair. Nor would I have to take German classes because the language on the streets, in the offices and in the classrooms is my own. Yes, I could even go back to school and study almost anything (I say almost because sadly, Hogwarts is fictional) at a fine English university. If nothing else, I could fine tune my British accent and read trashy tabloids all day. Brilliant!

What's so great about London?

The anthropologist and teacher in me are reluctant to use the term 'culture-packed' because it is incorrect and barely makes sense, but just go with it. The short answer to what's so great about London is that it is culture-packed. You can find almost anything you want at almost any hour of the day or night. I love the fact that tourists and locals alike can queue up (do I sound like a local or just pretentious?) at Leister Square to purchase discounted theatre (how 'bout now?) tickets for that very same evening. We saw Avenue Q and I laughed for two hours.

Another big selling point for London (especially if you live in Switzerland) is the quality and quantity of its pubs and restaurants. But English food is wretched, you say? True enough, but Londish food, now that is a horse of a different curry, er... color. Talented chefs from all over the world have brought their A-game to London and unlike Switzerland, where there are no mid-range restaurants, you can find good eats at a dining establishment that meets your needs and budget, be it a chip shop or a three star Michelin bistro. Of course, we wasted no time in filling up on old favorites. Finding great Indian food was a no brainer, but we also enjoyed fresh hummus at a Middle Eastern restaurant, sushi with melt in your mouth toro (Andrew is so jealous) and a rather authentic American style brunch. No, I didn't scour London's countless McDonalds for a BE&CB; why would I when I could instead fill up on a traditional English breakfast with grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and beans on toast?

Eating out as often as we did last weekend would not be an option if we lived there, but I imagine London's food markets make cooking at home even more fun than dining in its restaurants. Borough market made me wish it was physically possible to digest more than four meals a day. Its vendors offered everything from fresh oysters to pre-bagged flour and spices for pakoras to the richest cheesecakes I had ever seen. Though I nearly froze last weekend in only my spring jacket, my biggest regret was not not packing more layers, but instead not coming to Borough market hungrier. In sum, if we moved to London we wouldn't starve. According to my friend Michelle, our resident expert, moving to London produces the opposite problem. "You've heard of gaining the freshman fifteen?" she asked. "Well, unfortunately it's a London thirty." That's one way to start earning the pound. :)

So how should a girl counterbalance those extra bickies (cookies)? Mickey and I tried to dance off those calories at an event called Guilty Pleasures. The title really says it all; several hundred young people came to dance to the songs we are ashamed to love. Forget hip hop and techno, only the cheesiest pop songs would do. Last week's theme was 'A Night of 1,000 Dollys,' Dolly being Dolly Parton. Watching Brits decked out in enormous blond wigs, padded bras and cowboy boots hit the dance floor was unreal. Stranger yet, though, were the Pleasure Boys, three male dancers who wore only underwear, sweatbands and loads of glitter.
What's not so great about London?

As far as transportation goes, the Tube is great... when compared to the Metro in Paris. It is pretty clean and it gets you where you want to go most of the time. But we've been spoiled by Zurich's superior system of public transport and thus were annoyed by relatively minor delays and inconveniences on the Tube. Likewise, the cold, rainy weather was fun for a weekend. We imagined we were getting the real London experience and enjoyed spending time in cozy theaters and restaurants. London fog would grow tiresome, however, and the Californian in me would whine about the lack of sunshine.

Mickey loves city life; he loves living near fine restaurants and he is thrilled that he doesn't own a car, but I wonder if I could handle the big city. This may sound strange coming from a native of southern California, but I find London too large and too crowded. I wonder if we would get lost, not in a physical sense, but I wonder whether we could make friends in another home away from home.

When I tell people here in Switzerland that I am an American from California, the response is always positive despite Bush's unpopularity. 'I love California!' or 'I want to go there,' people say. More than one person has responded with 'what are you doing here?' And they're not trying to ask what jobs/situations brought me here, they are surprised that I would want to move away from a place as lovely as California. Sure we love London, Switzerland and Rome, but there's no place like home.