Tuesday, January 24, 2012


So Zurich was nice.

I mean, it's your classic banking city. I did prefer the French side of Switzerland. I used to love going to Geneva when I lived in France. It was a a more dramatic setting, with Mont Blanc rising out of the Alps in the background.

But Zurich isn't exactly ugly. It's just a little more random. And Swiss and straight-laced as to be expected.

It was fucking freezing, so the Brit and I didn't climb any mountains, but instead did chilled out stuff like amble the through the Old town (all European cities have an Old Town. So even if there's absolutely nothing to do, there's always an Old Town), eat a lot of cheese and get a couple of massages and do some thermal bathing.

Dude. Cheese and bathing? Perfect weekend.

The best was this thermal spa we found near the Brit's hotel. It's an old brewery-turned thermal spa, with a rooftop open air bubbling pool on the roof, with 360 degree views of the city.

The city is surrounded by mountains, and has a few spires poking out here and there (that's on thing England misses. Spires motherfucker), so the views weren't shabs at all.

You'd poke a toe out and because it was -1 outside, you'd immediately freeze, so as long as you kept most of your protrusions in the water you'd be fine.

Inside, people were walking around naked. You know, how people of Germanic nature tend to do. Jam out with their clams out. They won't jump a traffic light, but they'll walk around naked in public spaces.

Ate a fair bit of Lindt.

Ate my boyweight (before WeightWatchers) in cheese. A Swiss fondue consists of two things:
1) A pot of bubbling raclette cheese
2) An entire loaf of bread, cut up into saures for dipping

I used to be an extreme cheese eater. I ate cheese like I took breaths. We're talking sizeable quantities here.

Then cancer started running amok in my father's side of the family, I got diagnosed with endometriosis, and diary in general became the enemy and now don't eat any.

No milk, no yoghurt, no cream and [it's hard to even write this] no cheese.

Mostly. Life would be a prison sentence if I couldn't have cheese at least sometimes.
Well. The Brit and I shared an entire cooking pot full of cheese. And managed not to die, but it was hard. It was hardcore.

No cheese to a kilo of it.

How do the Swiss do it? Like, regularly? Cheese and bread, like twice a week?
It's extreme cheese eating, and they're not crazily obese either.

Anyway, that aside Zurich was great. The Brit gets home tonight. Yayballs.

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