“Vous parlez français?”
A confused-looking tourist had flagged me down on the pedestrian bridge that crosses the Rhone with a hopeful look in his eyes.
Pigeon Mafia
The covered walkways outside Union Station in Washington, DC, are home to a pretty sizable group of pigeons in the winter. On the coldest mornings, they fill every available perch underneath the high stone archways, covering the cement floor with evidence of their squatter status and making at least one former Washingtonian perpetually fearful of getting splattered on her daily walk to work. The “pigeon mafia,” my husband and I always called them. There they are, looking down at us with those beady, red eyes.
A blessedly pigeon-free walk through Union Station one day in December
Setting Up House
It’s been a week since we moved into our new apartment and I think it’s safe to say neither my husband nor I want to set foot in IKEA ever again (though we’ll probably realize we forgot something and be back this weekend). It was a rough ride to say the least, but things are finally starting to fall into place and our once bare set of rooms is beginning to feel like a home.
Here’s a recap of our last week by the numbers:
Camping Out
New apartment? Yes, finally! New furniture? Still in transit… Bonne nuit, mes amis!
Chamonix: J’adore!
Just an hour outside of Geneva, nestled underneath two of the highest peaks in Europe, is Chamonix, France: The site of the first winter Olympic games and, more recently, where I took my very first ski steps. (I’m sure that will be added to the Wikipedia page shortly).
Water Bottle Outsider
I toted a reusable water bottle around with me in Washington whenever I planned to be away from the apartment for more than a few hours, whether I was headed to work, the gym or a date with my girlfriends. I was probably one of the more devout water-bottle carriers, but I certainly wasn’t alone: If you walked through the press gallery in the U.S. Capitol on any given day, you would see rows of reporters’ laptops, notepads and, without fail, reusable bottles and mugs.
That seems to be more of an American thing than I realized. Continue reading
Weekend in Photos
Friday: Found a park with a pretty cool view on a walk before dinner after a hectic, paperwork-filled week. Also stumbled upon an enormous monument to Protestant leaders next to the University of Geneva.
That Moment When…
You cannot understand how your new favorite Swiss coffee drink could possibly be 80,000 calories, but then a frantic Google search thankfully clarifies that no, 80 kcal is just another way to say 80 dietary calories. (Phew!)
My 15th night in Geneva
That’s when I got my first real taste of what it means to be an expat. I should have known Frank Underwood would be involved…
English? Très chic.
It’s been trend
y in the states for a while now to put random French phrases on clothes and bags, and I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a sucker for the French tees that line the shelves of J.Crew and Madewell. That’s why I’ve been somewhat amused that, in many of the clothing shop windows in Geneva, what do I see? English, English, English.
The Plaid Shirt Diaries 