Hello fellow cold people!

4/6/06

It is, at the moment, freezing in Switzerland. Summer was supposed to start on the first of June but, that’s the day they announced that it was snowing at 900 metres. Did someone not get the memo? Did someone forget to flick the switch and turn on summer? Anyway. I’m writing now because Patrick gave me the rest of the day off cause I’m going to church at 9:30 and then my Aunt Beatrice coming over and we’re going for a drive. In the rain.

I’m telling you, it really pisses you off sometimes, being so close to the border. The other day, it’s cold and raining and then Samual looks up and says, “Shit, look at that. It’s sunny in Germany!” How screwed up is that? Just because the WM (World Cup in English) is being held in Germany this year, it doesn’t mean they should get all the sun.

12/4/06

Hi guys. Well, sorry I broke off there, I was going to be late to church. Well, actually, I was late for church, but there is a very good reason for that. You see, while I was riding down the hill to church, I passed the post office, and what did I see there, but my bike, which had been stolen a couple of days ago (ok maybe it was a couple of weeks and I still hadn’t called the police and was too lazy to look for it), so I stopped and retrieved it. So I had to walk down the bloody hill with two bicycles which had minds of their own, and park them at the mess hall, before going onto the church. I am writing this to remind you that there are REASONS one goes to church, even if you don’t know them before hand. It was however a wasted exercise, on account of what happened later.

I was on the field weeding onions with Lukas and Silvia, when Lukas announces that its lunch time. He goes over to get the tractor and I get on my bike to ride home, when I see Silvia start walking along the field. Silvia is like eighty years old. OK. Maybe seventy. OK! Maybe only sixty-eight but everything over sixty-five is ancient anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. Anyway, I offer her a lift, and say she can sit on the back while I pedal. She agrees, and five seconds later the whole bloody wheel is bent. I stare at this little old granny is astonishment. I can still ride it, but it goes like minus five kms an hour and makes this horrible squeaking noise (the whole wheel was somehow twisted into a figure eight).

So I ride it back to the farm and get the bike I had when this one was stolen. Patrick says he’s going to look for a replacement wheel, but he didn’t sound very hopeful. I think that they think I’ve got some really serious issues. I mean first the accident with the bike (I had this nasty scrape on my shoulder, and my godmother came to visit me and she’s like “Sarah, is that sunburn?” What the hell? I hadn’t even seen the sun in three weeks, how the hell was I supposed to get sunburnt, let alone have what looks like a serious case of skin cancer???), then I burnt the curtain. Then my bike got stolen, then I found again and promptly broke it. Well I’ve never been one to dwell on the bad stuff, so here’s some other news.

I went to my godmother’s 50th birthday party (again. This is her third one, and you thought I had issues), and got inspected by my relatives.

The other day, we were weeding carrots, and then suddenly two identical new shiny silver cars pull up next to us. Lukas reckons, “Shit, it’s the Mafia, quick! Hide between the rows!” The rows are about fifteen cms high and the carrots resemble needles, so this plan may have worked for an ant, but not anything bigger. It turned out to be the Bureau for Work Zurich. Two blokes came out and wanted to talk to us separately. They wanted to know if we were working legally, and what our working conditions were.

They didn’t know what category to put me in “Normal Swiss people don’t work for free” I was told. I told them that Australia had a great tradition of volunteer work, one only had to look at WWOOFERs (Willing Workers On Organic Farms). It’s probably a load of bullshit (working for free when you could be sitting on your ass receiving the dole is not typical of the average Aussie). Anyway, that night at dinner we told one our bosses, and she says “Oh Shit!” It turns out that Johanna, who was out there with us, is not legally allowed to work, she’s supposedly on holidays. Not that the Bureau can do much, because she’s not being paid, and you are allowed to work on your holidays, but it doesn’t make the farm look very good on paper (slave/child labour doesn’t make you very popular these days. What is the world coming to?)

Anyway, it’s very hard to be an Australian these days. I mean come on, OF COURSE I’m going to cheer for Australia, it’s my country man. But did they let me enjoy the Aussie victory over Japan? No! They were like, “Sarah, stop screaming, you’re scaring the cows.” Ok, and maybe it was a bit over the top singing the national anthem and then “I am Australian”, but we showed those Japs, didn’t we! But these people here! They’re all saying “Oh the Japanese, they are like, soooo easy.” Bastards.

Thanks to Bec for the Excel thing, it cracked me up. And to Bobby, for the Japanese lesson, I loved it. I always found the small funny things in life to be the most important. Like my cousin Tania’s sms’s always end with “In love Tania”, which I think is really sweet, but probably not the effect she was trying to create. Or, this morning, I went out to bring in the cows, and, yes, you’re probably not expecting anything great at five thirty in the morning, but today I found that a cow had calved on the pasture, and the calf was so adorable. It was really big (for a newborn calf), had a white head with long ruffled fur. It really looked like a fluffy toy and I just wanted to pick it up and cuddle it. Of course, when this cute little thing has a huge horned mother, you think twice before doing so. I eventually released my cuddling urges on the second youngest calf, who thinks that I’m it’s mother and follows me anywhere. IT’S SO CUTE!!!!

Sorry this email isn’t as long as the last one. It takes me ages to write one of these things and I really need to get my beauty sleep. To Meagan, I hope you had a great party. Even if you don’t remember most of it. Thank you to Mum and Sandor for clearing up that little misunderstanding of Gut Rheinau. Apparently the Gut means a large house/piece of land/estate, not “good”. But written in lower case it means good. Who it their bloody right mind tries to learn German?

Yours (really trying hard not to break this laptop into tiny pieces) lovingly,

Sarah.

P.S: Will keep you guys updated on my adventures with Mum, and maybe she’ll add something while she’s here. It’ll show HER how hard it is to write a bloody email to a zillion people. It’s quite hard not to offend someone because they receive the same e-mail. And finding topics that are interesting for everyone. I don’t think that all of you guys are interested in my Franz Ferdinand obsession (I can just see mum now, thinking, what the hell? It’s a band by the way), or what colour MMs are recommended by my horoscope today (Erin and I take these things very seriously, don’t we).  OK. Good night. And by the way, X-Men 3 is alright, but it could have been made so much better. But I did like the special effects used and all the new mutations they showed, especially the echidna dude.

Advertisements