And Then Came Snow... Photos

I didn't write much here because a picture is worth a thousand words and there are a good ten pictures below. So if I was getting paid to write this post then without actually using any words I'd get paid: ten pictures times a thousand times another nice round number equals MUCHO DINERO! Ah well... in another lifetime I guess. You get spared any reading this time but don't get used to it.

The view outside the window of our guest room. Also known as nooni and giddo's room.

Our beautiful street.

This is how Bubu rolls in Zurich.

This is how Soly rolls. It's nothing but 5-star comfort for my monkeys.

I couldn't resist how their butts looked in their snow suits.

Oh boy did they eat a lot of snow that day. Soly wasn't nearly as picky as Bubu. He got most of his snow off the bottom of my shoe.

Meet the Queen of fake smiles.

Whatta little man! Grrrr.


He's simply yummy.

The Chosen One

This post brings with it my usual spewing and also some fabulous news—we finally found a place! I guess the 275th time’s a charm because today one of the many, many, many, many applications we’ve submitted for apartments was accepted. The next step is to give the owners some sort of offering to show our appreciation for being the chosen ones. Our contract states that we are to bow down in gratitude and present them with one of our children as a thank you just like in that volcano movie. Between you and me, I’m going to try to squeeze in the second child in our offering and hope they don’t notice. Once they sign the contract, there’s no giving them back! Mouahahaha.

I should be very excited right now. I’m killing two birds with one stone: I found a new house and the children will find a new home. But if I were to describe to you how I feel, nausea would be my choice of words. I’m afraid and I have butterflies in my stomach. I feel as if I’m about to sign a contract binding my soul to an eternal life of wearing a hairnet to work. Plus, the kids are starting to grow on me. Damn their cuteness!

If I did a little soul searching I think I’d find that I’m mostly afraid that by accepting this one I’ll be missing out on another amazing apartment waiting just around the corner. It’ll jump out and tease me in all its perfection. I know I shouldn’t be seeking perfection but I never take ‘no’ for an answer and compromising on perfection is a big ‘no’ kicking me in the ass. There hasn’t been a single apartment that has everything I want in my new home. I understand that I will never get everything I want because this is Zurich and I should be so lucky to live here in the first place.

If I were to describe the apartment to you it would sound merely inches from perfection. Actually, no, it would sound centimetres from perfection (I’m European now and thus must represent). Let me describe it to you so you can give me your opinions in the comment section. This is also my devious way of forcing people to start commenting. The place is very large and open with three good sized bedrooms, a beautiful breakfast nook area, a fireplace, a separate living room and dining room, a fabulous and central location, a patio and finally a little back yard for the kids to play in. Sound amazing? Just wait, there’s more. Last and definitely most is an extra room attached to the master bedroom that will become a very large walk-in closet!! In Zurich, if you get a closet period consider your wardrobe lucky.

Looks perfect doesn’t it? Well as expected, there are a few catches. Mom, take a seat and get yourself ready for this one. The kitchen... is... old. Ok, now I’m going to slip this next one by you quickly while your system’s still in shock and hope you don’t notice... the bathrooms are old too!

Whew! That was exhausting. Everything else about the apartment is more than perfect. There hasn’t been another apartment that is closer to what we want. At least not a place we ever had the slightest chance of getting. The bottom line is with apartment hunting in Zurich, compromises must always be made. It’s not like I’m doing the Swiss thing and becoming a permanent fixture at this place. I can always give it a try and if I don’t like it I can look around again next year. On a brighter note, they have offered to replace the bathroom cabinets with a double sink and other pretty little things that will hopefully save me from drowning in its ugly, dark green tiles.

So here I am: thanking my lucky stars that I even got a place, shutting the hell up and finally loving everything about it.

Oh, did I mention there’s a random, fully functional sink in the master bedroom? Shhh, I’m loving it...

Swissiness As Usual

Things have begun to slow down for my aging self in this 90sqm apartment close to the positively fascinating center of Zurich. And yes, I had to point out that I am aging and I have two new wrinkles to substantiate that bizarre claim. Since when do I get wrinkles? This must be some sort of practical joke that isn’t very humorous and if the joke spreads even further I’ll be pursuing legal action against the responsible party. Is it gravity... or could it be Europe and the price I paid today for a small Chai Latte? Whatever the cause, the area under my eyes is off limits!

The temporary corporate apartment is less than 1,000 sf. which, in California, is the type of dwelling we call ‘chicken coop’. I shouldn’t complain (and I’m not) especially since my brother lives in a sardine can in NY. I don’t mind the size at all. On the contrary, I enjoy how little time it takes to clean the entire apartment. That’s right—there are no Marias here. It’s all me baby. I’m also contented to forget the lazy, tired feeling I used to get just thinking about walking from my bedroom to the kitchen or even worse—the kid’s bedroom back in the mansion (by comparison) in California.

Appointments have trickled down to just a few per week on our house hunt, aka ‘mission impossible’. Doesn’t anyone in Zurich ever leave? The rental market here is best described as: you take whatever you can get; you thank your lucky stars that you even got that; and then you shut up and love it. That makes me totally psyched about finding the place I end up having to shut up and love!

Even my job search has almost halted. Not only do the Swiss surgically attach themselves to their apartments but they also don’t like hiring me. By ‘me’ I mean an inexperienced employee with no work permit or any language abilities outside of English (like every other human here) and Arabic (I may as well speak Martian). Despite my shortcomings on the resume side of things I know I’m a hot commodity and if they’d only agree to meet me in person they’d agree. What would also help is if they posted the damn job openings in English! Martian will do too.

So, like me, you’re probably asking yourself, “What the hell do you do with your severely constipated self now?” Well, I’m trying to figure that one out.

That’s it really. Where you expecting an answer right away? Don’t hold your breath, I’m still working on it. Maybe the ideas will come in tandem with my bowel movements... pray for me.

Oh Chanel! You Shouldn’t Have

This is the part of my life where I met my Chanel snake skin shoes. They were blinding. They sat in the window of the vintage store that I’ve grown to find irresistible and it was love at first sight. The second I laid eyes on them I got down on one knee, whispered “I love you”, reached into my pocket and pulled out my credit card. I felt so good about my purchase because I will never find love in shoes like this again (especially at the price I got them for). They’re cream/off-white snake skin with a large black Chanel logo on the front. What’s not to love about Chanel?

The woman behind the register put my babies in a bag and handed them to me. I was dreaming and I held them tightly as I walked them home before I remembered I have children. Who? What? Where? Oops! I rushed back to the store to get them. So easy to forget the little buggers when you’re carrying Chanel.

So now that we’re home—all of us, kids included—I realize what I’ve just done. Second hand stuff in general isn’t very Nad. It used to actually scare me but I’ve found a new hobby in vintage shopping. You can find one of a kind, beautiful masterpieces of clothes, shoes, purses, jewellery, you name it and for a fraction of the price that the items would cost brand new. My shoes definitely would have cleared $1,000 when they were brand new but I assure you I paid what normal women pay for normal shoes.

Getting back to the realization of what I’ve done... Buying vintage is pretty cool but is buying vintage shoes cool too? Let me ask this another way: Is buying shoes that someone else put their God-only-knows-what-type-of feet inside them a safe thing? Who knows? They look spotless and the bottom of the shoes don’t look used at all so I’m convinced some rich chick bought a pair in every color and never got around to wearing this one... my pair... my first Swiss friend.

There’s something incredibly warming (to a woman’s heart) about a fabulous cup of coffee made by Italians and an even more fabulous pair of shoes made by the French.

Another Day, Another School and Hours of Fun

My adventures in Zurich continued today (as if I was expecting them to suddenly come to an end) and my day began well before any sane human’s should. That, combined with the night before ending later than planned, made my day stretch out a little longer than I’d normally like. My feet are also still angry with me, however I think they’re starting to accept the fact that they may never rest again. I think what helps the situation is how I constantly point out to them all the other women wearing obviously painful heels and trotting about the city just the same as I am; while I have been considerate enough to wear nothing but crocs (the cute small ones, not the mammoth ones). So the feet are beginning to see and appreciate the compromises I make for them.

Bubu spent a few hours at a new school today. This one is a German/English Montessori just a few walkable blocks uphill from our corporate apartment. I really hope she chooses this one because I’m completely biased towards the Montessori system of schooling. I wholeheartedly believe it will bring out the genius in her. She already has the smarty pants genes so all that’s left is a little encouragement and space for self expression.

By Egyptian standards we arrived an hour and a half early this morning but by Swiss standards we were a couple of weeks late. I was too afraid to check in at the main office because the director of the school plays Hitler to a T. Frankly, he scares me even though I’m not Jewish. Especially with Soly being circumcised and all... I mean, what if Hitler’s clone checked Soly’s pants and saw? Heck no, I want to live! There’s so much more chocolate that needs swimming in. So I went straight to Bubu's classroom where once again she switched on her sirens and water works until something interesting caught her eye and I was, once again, dismissed at the drop of a dime. No wave... she didn’t even look over her shoulder at my pathetic soul.

After that I made my way straight home because 1.) my bladder was seriously threatening to humiliate me in public and 2.) Soly's tiny, chubby and deliciously round fingers were frozen solid and his button of a nose was bright red. When we got home he slept and I worked. I looked for apartments and a job for hours like I do every day with no avail. I deleted a few rejection emails from companies that I was certain would call me for an interview. Why do companies do that? If you’re reading this (you know who you are) I would much rather not hear back from you than get a phony rejection email bullshitting me about how great I am and how it’s “not you. It’s me”. A piece of my confidence died today and I’m convinced I will never find work again and will be forced to make a living washing dirty dishes at the Asian restaurant three blocks from our apartment that makes the best Pad Thai I’ve ever had. I was there picking up food last night and a tiny Indian woman came out of the kitchen in a hairnet and picked up all the dirty pots from the table next to the chef. I looked at her, squeezed my lips together and nodded—I know how she feels. She came to a new country without speaking a word of German and had no choice but to work a job that requires her to wear a hair net (yikes!). And then I got even more depressed when I realized she’s probably got a work permit. I don’t even have a work permit! Yeah... I’m pretty much screwed. And screwed is a much prettier word than I’d like to use here but I’m working on controlling my tourettes. Oh, and my dad’s reading this. :-)

I turned off the computer and decided to cheer myself up by making the most of the rest of day. I wasn’t going to work or think about anything except enjoying the children. I haven’t been as attentive to them as I like to be ever since I died and went to chocolate heaven. We’ve only been out playing twice over the past two weeks: once at the lake and another time at a beautiful park a few blocks away from here. After I picked up Bubu from school I took them both out to a coffee shop for some hot chocolate to warm their bellies before our day of fun. It so happened that the place makes a fantastic Machiatto and honestly it’s a complete coincidence that the waiter has my drink memorized and had the cup ready for me before I even opened my mouth. So I’ve been there a few times before, so what? I was only there for the kids this time... really. This was actually Soly's first cup of hot chocolate and he loved it.

The 20 minutes we spent playing at the coffee shop renewed my energy. Or it might have been the double shot of caffeine that was pumped into my system but whatever it was made me happy. I skipped down the street pushing the stroller and begging Bubu to skip with me so I wouldn’t look psychotic but she rolled her eyes at me. Damn, little girls mature fast! I must’ve missed the years in which maturity happens to people.

I spent the rest of the day going outright nuts with the kids. We spent hours chasing each other around the apartment (Soly included), laughing, screaming, joking, singing, dancing, hugging, rolling around, sniffing toes and just all out bonding. It was amazing and rewarding and I sincerely enjoyed myself and my children. Even little Soly was laughing with us all day which is great because he rarely gets to be involved in our games. I love my boy! An additional monstrous benefit was that they both ate well and slept well...

Another wonderful day in Zurich passed and my relationship with my babies renewed.

Me and Shaq? We go way back...

Famous people dig me.

Today I Climbed Mount Everest

Although I care for Zurich quite a bit, I’m beginning to sense that those feelings aren’t exactly mutual. And if my new love, Zurich, does actually have some feelings for me then it has quite a backwards way of showing it! Here’s a tip for all those wanting to impress me: don’t wreak havoc on my feet!

My poor, swollen, tired and dry-as-a-mother feet can take no more abuse from Zurich. I think I just may wake up tomorrow and find a noose (or more appropriately – a shoelace) tied around my feet accompanied by a suicide note from my ankles. Then I’d have to revive them somehow and possibly even give them mouth to mouth resuscitation. Hmmm, note to self: wash feet before going to bed just in case resuscitation is required. No one wants mouth-to-mouth with grubby feet. And maybe to be fair to my feet I’ll also brush my teeth extra well and do all that fancy stuff like flossing and mouth washing. Who knows? Maybe feet have feelings too and would not want mouth-to-mouth from morning breath... Just a thought.

The reason my legs, from the knees down, wish to dislocate from the rest of my body is because I climbed Mount Everest today... almost. Well not really, but I might as well have! If I added all the climbing, carrying, walking, stumbling, yelling at my kids (aka children of the devil), pushing, shoving and almost crying out in pain that I did today it will most definitely almost amount to the same thing as climbing that big, famous Everest thing. I forget why it’s so famous really.

This entire week shall go down in history as the most challenging thing my body has ever gone through; aside from child birth. Bubu is trying out new schools for a day or two each to see which one she’ll like better. After all, her happiness is basically the cornerstone of my life. And that’s not by choice. If I don’t make her happy she has these horns that emerge from her gorgeous curly hair and adorably tiny head and I immediately get put in my place. Who am I to mess with the happiness of the devil's child anyway?

Day one at an English speaking school went very well overall. It began a bit rough with Bubu clinging to my legs as if her life depended on it. I still have her nail marks etched into my thighs. I should add that to the list of reasons why my legs want me dead. Anyway, after much complaining and clawing, Bubu overheard the teacher singing with the children. Ahhh music and dancing... so that’s the secret to her happiness! Her head popped up from its hiding spot in between my knees and her ears zoned in on what she was hearing. I held her hand and looked at her and said, “Bubu, what are they doing? Are they singing? Do you want—“. The little drama queen then cut me off mid-sentence with a hand to the face and ran off to join the group of dancing tots. And that was that. She didn’t even humour me with a goodbye wave. She sold her mother for a song about a finger and thumb. *sigh*... It’s really nice to know your value in life.

Now Soly on the other hand will not come anywhere near me unless he’s sleepy. He’s an independent, hairy man and holding him down for a hug or a kiss is like holding down a wild beast; except when he’s sleepy. That’s where he’ll climbs up my legs like a koala bear and beat his head with a fist until he howls in pain. That’s how my boy communicates—with his fist. If Bubu is the devil’s child then Soly has the genes of a gorilla.

After my long day of adventures in Zurich’s public transportation which I used to drop Bubu off, go back home, go see an apartment, pick up Bubu and then go see another apartment, I decided that tomorrow I would sit on my ass with my feet propped on a pillow and a fly swatter in my hand. We have no insects here so the swatter is for these little annoyances called kids that need shooing every so often. And when I say we have no insects here I’m lying through my teeth (or fingers because technically I’m not really doing any talking right now—just typing). Zurich has spiders!!! SPIDERS!!! And lots of them! Everywhere! The big ones and the jumping ones and leggy, hairy ones! Nad is not glad.

Well, my plans to recuperate were in vain. I must’ve been high or drunk or just plain stupid since I don’t get high or drunk. I should have known better than to use a fly swatter to keep the kids away when I know that only a bulldozer could do the job. Every once in a while I threw candy far away from me so I could watch them run for it and then I’d exhale in peace for the 2 and a half minutes it took them to sprint to the where the candy was at, attack it to shreds and then sprint back to their respective positions on top of mommy. I must add that everyone who knows me knows I only have peaceful thoughts of suicide and speak of my children like this only when I’m wholly exhausted. Normally of course they’re beautiful angels whom I love nothing more bla... bla... bla. Whatever.

So you see there really has been no break for me this week... and Zurich is not really rolling out the red carpet for me. Where’s my warm welcome honey? Where's the love? It’s ok. I’m gonna wear you down. You’ll love me soon enough!

Entschuldigung!

Well hello there... bloggity blog. Where do I begin? Let's try starting with a thoughtful expression of my current feelings. I'm glad I'm here... in Switzerland that is. No offense to blogger, of course I'm glad I'm here with you too but come on now. Do you dare to compare? I live in Europe now baby and well, you're just a host of thousands of websites where smarty pants like me think they have something to say that someone out there might want to read. I think Europe has one over you here. Sorry bud.

So I just moved to Zurich a few days ago and I feel a bit lost. I'm in love with the place but I feel really lost. It's extremely overwhelming and I have no clue how to get a handle on everything. Will I ever settle in properly? Will I ever get a chance to take advantage of everthing? Will Bubu like her new school? Will SaSa bark at me in German? Will I ever bark at anyone in German? Entschuldigung means excuse me, btw. Now I KNOW I will never get a hang of the 12 million different trains and buses I'll need to use to get everywhere. Where's my car? Where's the sun? AAAHHHHHHH... I see smoke. Huh? Shit, my brain's on fire!!! I need a yummy swiss chocolate break... Jealous?