Phthph!  This month’s masthead is totally sappy. I don’t do sappy well. I hemmed and hawed. I kicked and stammered. But Mr. Wild Dingo, who’s even less sappier than me, twisted my arm and told me to run it.

It’s just as well. This week, I’m giving a yoga class themed on love in light of Valentine’s Day. But luckily, I can pull off a yoga class with feel-good themes and leave the sap at home. There are lots of backbends and heart opening poses planned along with only the hippest tune list in Lausanne.

TravelMarx gave me a new list of great tunes for Christmas, featuring L’Amour by Rouge Rouge. The song rocks and will be fun to use in my playlist. So I looked up the band’s official video. I was pleasantly surprised that it was the perfect balance to the sappiness of this month’s masthead.

Warning:  contains adult humor. If you aren’t an adult or you don’t have a sense of humor, don’t watch it.

Those body suits are giving me serious déjà vu. Leave it to the French to take the sap out of l’amour! Sigh. I love the French.

If you need to cleanse your pallet, here’s another “L’amour” by Rouge Rouge video with really beautiful photography of love.

Oh Yeah: Happy Love Month Babies! 

This month’s header is dedicated to my favorite song by Prince that I’ve been playing on my iPod whenever I ride the indoor bike trainer.

Shortly after returning home from Istanbul, I got serious about solving my health problems. I was pretty sick this summer before my London trip in July.  Remember how I fell asleep at Tate Modern? In August, Mr. Wild Dingo had to drag my ass around the ruins in Istanbul trying to ignore my sour puss from the constant joint pain, exhaustion and my inability to focus on anything interesting.  When we came home, I could barely bring myself to even write this blog. September was a record low for me of only 4 posts.

Somehow the insomnia returned this summer and fall with a vengeance. The pain all over my body and in my joints soared to new highs. No matter how hard I tried, my yoga practice was in the toilet. I felt physically horrible for so long. Anyone reading this, and plenty of doctors too,  would immediately jump to the diagnosis of depression. And while I would never belittle or minimize depression as a real illness (I spent many graduate school internships with children and adults with all sorts of neurosis and psychosis), I knew deep down it was something more. Yet no normal medical tests could accurately identify the pain in my body or the unexplained insomnia or the racing heart rate long after hard exercise. Depressed people don’t travel, ride their bikes, make plans or even want to do anything. I not only wanted to do them, I did them but with very low energy and in a lot of pain.

The week before London, I had to lay on the sofa practically all week just so I wouldn’t get so sick from the non stop insomnia that I would miss out on an awesome time with my brother. I’d have some weeks of everything just dandy in my body, then hit with months of insomnia, joint pain, body inflammation, brain fog, racing heart, forgetfulness and exhaustion. Some days all I could do was walk the dogs. I stopped teaching yoga a while back because I couldn’t understand why my body would just break like this.  If I or most doctors couldn’t understand it, how in the world could I teach yoga or wellness to anyone else let alone be strong enough to make it to a class?

After Istanbul, I had set up multiple appointments with different doctors both traditional medicine and holistic. I like to cover all my bases. I started to focus on eating a really clean diet. Still, at one point, I had enormous pain in my abdomen and had to go to get urgent x-rays. It was then things started to fall into place. The x-rays showed I had major digestive problem. I set up more doctor’s appointments for this but while I waited for them, I went to a juice-only diet to give my body a break. After a week, as things settled down and I noticed the joint pain lessened, I started slowly adding back in normal foods, starting with legumes, eggs, light meats and rice. I added wheat last and that’s when it hit me like a large baguette of French bread whacking me clear across my face. The pain in my abdomen and joints returned the next day. It was so powerful a change that it was completely obvious what was wrong. So I took myself off all wheat and read up on wheat allergies and gluten intolerance. I went back to both doctors for testing and while one confirms that I am allergic and/or sensitive to wheat and gluten the other does not confirm it at all. C’est la vie.

After six weeks of a gluten and wheat free diet, all inflammation left my body, joint pain subsided, sleeping  improved 90% and I’m back to my normal yoga practice. It feels like my brain woke up from a 6-year hibernation and I can actually attempt more French conversation now. French words are coming back to me and I have NO idea where they came from. They’ve been sitting in the corners of my brain, somehow absorbed from somewhere in my past and ready to be used. It makes me want to cry thinking that I was so sick I couldn’t access any of that for so long and now it’s just so fluid. Not that I speak French fluidly. Pas de tout! But a door has been flung open and all those resources are there ready for me to access so I can challenge my mentals again.

A few years ago, a nautropath doctor lightly suggested wheat and gluten allergy for my insomnia and joint pain symptoms. Stupidly, I dismissed it because I had no digestive problems at the time. But what’s really interesting  to me is that no medical doctor (and I’ve had tons over the last 6 years) ever suggested it or tested for it, even though plenty of digestion problems run in my family. As it is, I had two duodenal ulcers myself before I was 21. Still, I was conundrum for every single traditional doctor who’d shrug their shoulders, give me a pat on the back and a bag full of sleeping drugs which only  ever made me worse.  Just as the guru Prince tells us in the song ”Dr. Everything’ll Be Alright will make everything go wrong.”

Reading about food allergies, I’ve learned that the wheat we have today doesn’t resemble the wheat we had only 50 years ago. It’s been genetically changed worldwide for noble reasons (to solve world hunger) and not-so-noble reasons (more gluten for fluffier baked goods).  Hence the rise in “gluten intolerance” in today’s population. If you read about gluten, whether you are sensitive to it or not, it’s bound to do a number on your digestion at some point in most people’s lives. Especially at the amount of gluten in most grain products today. Some medical theories find that some people are pre-disposed to food allergies never to show symptoms but a big life stressor can elicit their symptoms later in life.  That would certainly fit my story given my accident a few years back.

I don’t know enough about my own level of allergy or sensitivity. I don’t know if it’s permanent or temporary. There are many debates, holistic and traditional on the their permanence.  I do know that since healing my digestion and keeping wheat at bay (Ok, I slipped up a few times in Greece), my skin, hair and nails have become vibrant.  I can definitely tell I’m now absorbing nutrients from my food properly. I don’t take vitamins and feel great again. I don’t need them because I can absorb them in my food.  But it’s ironic that just as I discover the joy of cooking and being a real foodie, I discover this.  While it sucks to be sensitive to wheat–I really hate being one of those people who can’t have this or can’t have that– it totally rocks to aware and in control of the unexplainable pain and insomnia I’ve had for several years.

I can’t even look at photos of me in Istanbul or London because I just look like I’m in pain. But photos Mr. Wild Dingo took of me in Greece tell a different story. I’m happy and at peace.

Over time, I’ll likely try to learn more about my sensitivity level and experiment with trying to keep a varied enough diet and try to introduce it again in small amounts. But I’m not holding my breath. For now I feel so good, I’m happy to leave it out. I feel strong enough to resume a normal life and work again teaching a yoga class again in Lausanne. I also signed up for a new teacher training with Max Strom in Zürich, something I would never feel like I could manage the strength for. I’m totally psyched for that.  I also have a bucket of travel planned for this year.

My crazy energy has returned, so babies, this year is dedicated to “Let’s Go Crazy!”

For fun, go check out the lyrics to the song. In usual Prince fashion, they’re meaningful, fun and goofy.

I’m so depressed. This time last year we had a Winter Woonderland. There was fresh snow and visiting family.

Now, there isn’t a flake of snow in sight.  How could I top last year’s masthead?

But my two beasts can sometimes be the sweetest little sugar plumbs I ever did see.

So this month’s masthead is dedicated to the Sugar Plum; the candy and the holiday fairy. I have no idea what an actual sugar-plum looks like. And I have no idea what this plant and fruit is in these photos. But I’m calling them sugar plums. Just to make my life easy.

Apparently sugar plums aren’t really plums at all.  They are a piece of dragée candy made of dried fruits and shaped in a small round or oval shape. Apparently there are many images for the sugar-plum on the web. Sometimes, they can be made of dried plums, apricots, figs or dates. And I thought the French language was one big contradiction.

“Princess, I have visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.”
“Big boy, I got my sights set on something bigger than sugar plums. And they won’t be in my head. Tee-hee.”

“Princess, where are we going?”
“Daddy-O, we are already there.”

Dogs are so zen.

November is “Being Present” month.  O.K. So I made that up.  But next month is “Getting and Giving Presents” month. And black Friday is coming. Oh the stress!

So don’t panic. Just be here now—babies.

When I met Mr. Wild Dingo, his home was filled with tons of sun themes. I like the sun. I like sunny days. But if given the choice of my favorite celestial object, sun, moon or stars, I’ll pick the moon every time. And autumn harvest moons are my favorites.

I don’t know why I’m fascinated with it or why it makes me so happy but it does. It’s probably why I’m an insomniac. It’s funny how bed time arrives just when things get interesting.

I took these shots right out my office window. I shot them in shutter priority and played with shutter speed. I learned a few things. Longer shutter speed does not necessarily mean a great moon shot. In fact if it’s too long, what you gain in lighting you lose in the crispness of the moon.

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on the clear, still lake.

It seems like yesterday that we arrived here in Switzerland, but it was already a year ago. Time flies when you’re walking dogs in a beautiful country.

The harvest is here. The kids are back in school. Last year at this time we were just beginning to explore the farms and though now they are so familiar to us, it still feels like we’re on borrowed time. Each day I appreciate our surroundings, I realize how temporary it is and how three years (and now two) will go by so quickly. There is so much to do and yet impossible to do it all. I feel like we’ve done so much and yet nothing at all.

“This 2011 Chardonnay will be noteworthy since a Siberian has worked at keeping the ground moles away all summer!”

It took the first half of the year to settle in. Some may be surprised, but living in a different country is not like a vacation. You can’t ask an English-speaking bell hop to call a cab for the airport or fix the heater.  It’s the little things that took so long to adjust to: reading the labels on the food, buying gas, getting your hair cut, returning items at a store, calling for service for the boiler, getting your hair cut, asking the gardener to trim the hedges, getting your hair cut, trying to make it through a yoga class without looking at other students for a clue, getting your hair cut, parking garages, getting your hair cut. I never realized how language can make you feel so close or so distant from people. And how important it is to getting your hair cut. I’m so thankful to those who speak English in times when it’s really important, at the doctor’s office or the vet. Our gardener speaks 3 or 4 languages, none of them English. But we get by. But my coiffure? Well, the language barrier always makes that a special adventure for me!

“Work, work, work! A Sibe’s mole-hunting work is never done.”

The farms we walk are tranquil and yet alive. In the late mornings and mid day, they are deserted, occasionally we pass only the working farmers. In the late afternoon, the adjacent sports field is filled with action and the walking paths are busy with joggers, cyclists, horseback riders and dog walkers. But even at that time, we’ll be lucky to pass just  2 or 3  people on our chosen path.  With miles and miles of vines, corn and sunflowers crops and open views of all the plots, it’s easy to choose your own path to avoid horseback riders or choose the path with known dog pals for a hello.  Our walks are never the same. And it’s a great area to let the dogs roam off lead to stretch their legs and chase moles and birds. Between Juno’s talent for catching moles and Loki’s talent for driving off crows, the crops are safe from predators, at least while we’re there.

“Princess, do you think we should put a resume together for our farm care services?”
“Resume, sch-mesume. Big Boy, our reputations precede us.”

It’s funny, I get the feeling that Juno, being true to her breed and the adventurous-seeking husky that she is, loves being here in Switzerland. But Loki? Something tells me he senses the impermanence of it all and is constantly wondering when we’ll go home. The one he knows as his. He’s adjusted to living here and has even adjusted to staying at Bernard’s when we vacation. And like us, he’s learning to appreciate the new experiences with peace and a sense of adventure. A small part of me can’t wait for the day we drive down our driveway in California with him. But for now, we’ll continue to appreciate our adventurous, yet tranquil life here, because  I know that day will come far too soon.

I know what you’re thinking. There’s no dog in this month’s masthead. But like the real Europeans they’ve become, Loki and Juno insisted on taking this month off from working, like everyone else. Don’t worry, their regular photos will back this week. I convinced them that taking time off modeling for a masthead was like a month of vacation in dog time. Suckers.

So this month’s masthead is inspired from Gerhard Richter, who exhibited a series of abstract paintings, “Cage” at Tate Modern in London. The series  is a tribute to American Composer John Cage, who’s quote “I have nothing to say, and I’m saying it” resonates with Richter’s own ideas.

It sounds so Seinfeld.  A painting about thing. A song about nothing. Blogs about nothing.

Richter’s series of paintings were built in successive layers, each one scraped back and painted again. When you look at them, you can almost make out a figure or an object. The paintings developed in ways that couldn’t be anticipated by Richter when he started them.

Cage is also known for introducing elements of chance into writing and performing music. “I have nothing to say and I’m saying it,” resonates most strongly in his controversial composition, 4’33.”

Now if you’re like me and aren’t familiar with the piece, you’ll go to iTunes, look it up and press play. Then you’ll turn up the volume because you aren’t sure if you can hear it.  Then you’ll play other music on your PC to be sure iTunes is working properly before heading over to Wikipedia to find out: WTF ? There’s no sound played. It’s a composition of 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence—in three movements no less. Each movement starts and ends with the pianist opening and closing the keyboard.

But the beauty of this? It’s sold on iTunes for 99 cents. Now that’s genius. Why can’t I think of making money for saying nothing? Life’s not fair.

But seriously, when you listen to Cage, now deceased, talk about his theory on sound and silence, then it may not seem so absurd. But Mr. Wild Dingo, who overheard it, didn’t exactly agree.  I won’t relay Mr. Wild Dingo’s exact words. While Cage’s theory seemed clever (to me anyway), I’m not sure I’d pay 99 cents for that piece.

True story: When I was a toddler, my mother took me to the doctor and told him: “She never speaks. Is there something wrong with her?” The doctor laughed and replied, “She just has nothing to say.”

Well that all changed because now I “say nothing” all the time. Mr. Wild Dingo will be the first to agree that I talk a lot. Ridiculous? I talk about it. Trivial? I say it. Absurd? It rolls off my tongue. None of it has any real meaning. Yet, I feel the need to say it. And this blog is no less an extension of a whole lot of nothing and a whole lot of noise. It’s quite opposite of Cage’s original intention. Yet the quote fits it perfectly.

What I like best about the quote is how many ways it can be spun. Perhaps as one blogger pointed out that it expresses an attitude for allowing the viewer, listener or reader to form his own opinion. I can see that. Look at my painting, listen to my song, read my poem. Form your own opinion. What a welcome relief from mass marketing and politics thrust in our faces today.

Richter is equally as ambiguous as Cage when he claims: “I don’t know what I want; I am inconsistent, non-committal, passive; I like the indefinite, the boundless; I like continual uncertainty.”  Welcome to the world inside my head.

I’ve always wanted to write a book. But I can never decide what to write about. If I publish a book of blank pages, do you think it will sell?

This month’s masthead came from an outing we did just yesterday in Lausanne, at a Parc Vidy. We met up with another Anglophone who had been advertising dog walks in this area for a while now. This place rocks. Lausanne loves dogs and provides plenty of areas for them to be on or off leash in fenced or unfenced parks near the beach or on trails.

The park is beautiful, and is right on the waterfront with many walking paths for off-leash dogs and plenty of swimming areas for them to legally swim.

Switzerland’s new SEARCH team.  You notice something about this photo? I sure can’t pull the wool over your eyes! There’s a “local” in it!

Meet Timmy  (TIMAAAAY!), the Bernese Mountain Dog.  Isn’t he a hunk of burnin’ love?

Just a few steps inland from the beach there’s a dog park in Vidy that also serves for dog educational training and behavioral assessment. I’m not a dog park frequenter, but I go for play dates with people I know and this was a new meeting for Timmy’s mom and me. Timmy also has an adorable Tibetian Terrier brother named Pepper. All four dogs met for the first time for a play date.

At first Loki and Timmy ignored each other, which was actually a great sign. But then…

“Hey Swissy! It’s time for battle of the Mountain Dogs! Swissy vs. Formosa!”
“Bring it on Formosan Boy!”

“Are you sure you can keep up with a lean mean fightin’ machine?”
“Dude, those ridiculously large ears are no match for my Swiss moves!”

Meanwhile, Juno and Pepper get their game faces on:

“Come here little fella. You look a lot like my neighbor, le chat, whom I’ve been wanting to have for dinner… and not as a guest.”

Pepper is the best poop-disturber ever. He’d get up into some dog’s grill in the worst way and then bolt. Kind of reminds me of someone. I won’t name his name, but it begins with “L” and ends with “oki.”

They all enjoyed plenty of zoomies together.

“Hey Timmy, that’s a nice stack. I’ll bet you pick up a lot of chicks with that stack.”

“Oh dude, you don’t know how easy it is. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Why hello there cute stuff.”
“Hello to you Handsome! That sure is a nice stack you got!”

“And that drool! My heart is swooning!”

Check out that hussy giving Timmy a kiss!  Get a room!

“Don’t tease me handsome, give a girl a little sugar.”
“The stack. It works every time.”

Note to readers: Dog stacking is not to be confused with cat stacking. If you are smart, do not click on that link. Cat stacking is wrong.

Please accept my shameless link to cat stacking entertainment in place of a witty punchline.

This month’s masthead is dedicated to my inability to shut my bottom jaw anytime I’m walking the villages and vineyards in Switzerland.

Someone needs to pinch me because sometimes I can’t believe I live here, even if it’s only  temporary.

When Marley and his mom emailed us for a hike last week and suggested Lavaux vineyards, I jumped at the chance. The last time I rode the vineyards, I envisioned taking the dog’s there but hadn’t gotten around to it. So much to do, so little time.

We started with lunch in Vevvy, where I had the best sandwhich I’ve had since I’ve been here:  melted cheese, ham and grilled vegetables on some amazing grilled French bread. Then we went on our hike to work it all off. I wasn’t able to take photos of the steep climb out of St. Sophorin to reach the terraces because I had to focus to keep my heart from exploding. But trust me, by the amount of sweat on my tee shirt, that sandwhich was clearly worked off. Seriously Internet, you don’t know how hard it is to live and walk here.

Juno and Marley take the lead along the Lavaux Terraces.

The Lavaux vineyard terraces–it’s so steep, there has to be terraces to traverse the vineyards–stretch 30 kilometers (20 miles) along the shores from Montreaux (Chateau Chillon) up to the outskirts of Lausanne. Due to strong urbanisation creeping in from both sides of the area, strong protection was put in place including nominating the area as a UNESCO world herritage site and imposing many building restrictions. A dozen villages make up Lavaux, including Vevvy, St. Sophrin, Cully, and Lutry.

It’s a hot and humid day and we stop to take in the views and a drink of water.

The main grape grown is Chasselas, a dry, fruity, white wine, is also known as a table wine. My favorite chateau so far here in Switzerland, Chateau d’Aigle also produces Chasselas.

There are some beautiful houses along the pathways as well. Loki gave me a near heart attack when I saw him on this retaining wall above.

This is why. The steep drop off to the right is a long way down! Check out the waterfall to the right. It must suck to live in that house. All the noise of that waterfall day-in and and day-out plus the views of the lake. It must get old fast.

This trail was a last minute decision on our hike back. I’m so glad we did it as it became the masthead for June. The Roman ruins were just sitting there right in front of us. You just never know what lies on the unexplored path.

Although there is some evidence that vines were grown in the area in Roman times, the present vine terraces can be traced back to the 11th century, when Benedictine and Cistercian monasteries controlled the area.  A chance find of Latin inscription on the worship of wine in antiquity, together with many Roman remains – Saint-Saphorin overlies what survives of a substantial Roman villa built along a main Roman highway, and Lausanne was a Roman settlement – suggests that the area was probably cultivated for wine in Roman times. 

Now I know where I get my affinity for wine. Those Romans were lushes!

It’s clear that even these three canines can appreciate the beauty of the land. They stop and take in the views of the lake, 500 meters above lake level.

Oh-ho-hum. Another castle down on the lake. Marley’s mom told me a little about it, but I obviously didn’t pay attention. All this blue and green messes with my concentration. 

In the winter, the terraraces are covered with snow and it’s not unusual to find off-piste cross-country skiiers on the rolling farmlands.

We spent only an hour but it was exhausting in the humidity and steep climbs. We only explored a small percentage of the terraces, so we’ll be back.  All three dogs had a spectacular time. Even the cracker enjoyed the serene surroundings and was on his best behavior.

Some people will never get the opportunity to enjoy this area first hand. I still can’t believe my dogs get to enjoy it with me. What’s even more amazing is that this walk is a mere 20 minute drive from my house and we can hike it whenever it suits us.

So go ahead. Pinch me. I know you’re just dying to!

I had another masthead for May in mind but Mr. Wild Dingo insisted on more tulips. Because it’s obvious you all haven’t had enough of them.

Obviously the headline is referring to my national blunder of accidentally insulting the Morges Tulip Festival.  Not only can dogs see the color yellow, but my answer reflected nothing about how we really felt about the garden and living in Morges.

We love living here and visiting the park as much as we possibly can. Independence Park is tranquil yet alive. People meander through it quietly and appreciate the environs. It has an amazing effect on the cracker, who rarely ever barks or shows anxiety when he’s in town.

As much as the dogs love walking the farms and running free in the forests, they equally choose the direction of Morges for a stroll in the park. I suspect they love it’s energy as much as I do.

It has a surprisingly calming yet invigorating effect on us all. And we’re truly grateful to be able to experience its life.

And that should have been my answer to the reporter.

Thanks to the TravelMarx for the pun, I have my theme for April. Actually it couldn’t be more fitting. As Mr. Wild Dingo and I continue to massacre the French language, we are forgetting how to speak English. The French use the verb “faire” (to do or to make) quite a bit as in “faire cuire,” which literally translates “to do or make cooking.”

The other day, when I was just finishing a load of laundry, Mr. Wild Dingo had commented he was out of socks.  I told him, “I’m making socks in the dryer.”  

The sad part:  he understood exactly what I meant.

Loki and Juno wait for their ship to come in on the Morges Quay.
Casino restaurant is in the background.

This month’s header is dedicated to the book. It seems I’m living my own version of Eat, Pray, Love, here in Switzerland– doggie-style. After all, dogs are the epitome of perfect yogi’s.

One of the main reasons for coming to Switzerland (other than Mr. Wild Dingo brings home the bacon and I go where he goes), is my health. I don’t chat too much on this blog about it, but suffice it to say, I spent the last four years battling chronic insomnia. I’ll spare you the details of the how’s and why’s except to say that it started with a concussion and no matter how much time I took off, how much homeopathic or medical advice I took and how much yoga I practiced, nothing worked. I would spend weeks on only 1-hour of sleep. It was probably the most frightening time I ever lived through. I saw my once thriving business slowly deteriorate as I  struggled with my core-competency: writing. Who knew that an inability to form complete, coherant sentences could be so detrimental to a business in communications?

In the last year and a half of the journey, I succomed to taking the western medicine approach, which admitedly was a short-term miracle. But sticking with that approach, I fell into a numb awareness and my overall health continued to decline. My yoga practice was the first to suffer. Inflamation all over my body, in my joints, muscles and ligaments prevented me from moving in ways I’ve always been able to move. It was as if I went from 39 to 99 years of age overnight. Once flexible and strong, I was then unable to bend over to feed the dogs. And among other ailments, I suddenly had stuff like plantar fasciitis. For no reason. This should have been the wake up call, but it took so long for me to answer it.

Then one day, Mr. Wild Dingo called me and said, “there’s a job opportunity in Switzerland. What do you think?” I thought of green pastures and a ticket out of the rat race we were in. And I began to form my plan. I wouldn’t work or try to work. I would do the things I wanted to do or not do anything at all. And I would do, or not do them, them without any medical or homeopathic means to sleep.

If moving out of the country to try to solve a health problem sounds a bit extreme, let me say this: In the past 30 days, I had exactly two days of insomnia. That’s a far cry from the height of this where I would average closer to 20 days or more per month of insomnia.  And I’m happy to  say I don’t take a single vitamin, sleep aid or for that matter even sleepy time tea. I sleep heavily, 7-9 hours most nights. Some nights, I sleep so heavily, I don’t even wake when Mr. Wild Dingo leaves for work. Sometimes I even nap in the afternoon.

Who needs a doctor when you have dogs?  I spend my days pretty much as they do: practicing yoga, walking and playing with the dogs, sometimes cycling (happily without a heart rate monitor) cooking,  eating and learning to speak French poorly. I’m slowly regaining my yoga practice and smile everytime I’m able to pike up into headstand again, a pose which alluded me that last numbing year and a half.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this time here in Switzerland. I have no agenda except one: complete awareness.  Having an empty calendar in a quiet, beautiful country seems to be just the medicine I needed.

Eat, play, sleep. Such is a dog’s life. Such is my life. For now.

February’s masthead is dedicated to justice. And why wouldn’t it? Dispensing justice is a way of life here at Wild Dingo. With Loki’s cujo-cracker behavior, Juno’s regular mastications and my daily skillet beatings, err, training sessions, it’s a regular San Chillon here. Ever since we discovered chateaus themed in justice dispensing here in Switzerland, the dog’s have been petitioning  for their very own chateau. Afterall, shouldn’t they have the appropriate digs that 16th century justice-dispensers had? Unfortunately, they just don’t make quality justice-dispensing homes anymore.  And unless we hit the Swiss lottery, it’s unlikely we’ll buy a chateau.

As Juno would say:  “Justice is a dish best served from a Siberian…”

… Unless it’s Pasta e Fagioli…

 … Then it’s best served to a Siberian.”

NB: Daily portions have been cut down to accomodate their traditional taste for a bite or two of our dinner and their need to lose a little weight. Both dogs are cross with me. I’m pretty sure they are scheming many ways to dispense justice on me for making them diet.

What is a dove,
But a pigeon
With higher aspirations.

May your new year be filled with
Hopes and dreams attained,
Peace and prosperity gained,
And may you be,
Nobody’s pigeon.

First, this month’s masthead is dedicated to the pigeon and the dove. We’ve made some resolutions and one of them is to take care of ourselves. 

Next, we’re back from partying hard for a week straight. Yes, I know that’s an amusing segue. But we needed to cut lose and we have lots to tell. We’ll start off with how we spent Saint Sylvestre  (New Year’s Eve).

Mr. Wild Dingo and I took two of our close friends who came out to visit us to a swanky establishment in Morges for a candle light dinner and dancing.

It was a 7 course meal that included an amuse-bouche, foie gras (pictured above), the most amazing risotto au lait de coco I ever did taste, salmon, veal and more.

It ended with this piece of art above. I almost didn’t want to break into it. It tasted as good as it looked.

The place was totally decked out. We had a blast.

When we came home, we found these two had their own little celebration:

“Princess, what is that?”

“I think it’s some sort of Amuse-bouche! You know, the hors-d’oeuvre served before the many other dishes of veal, salmon and foie gras that’s surely going to come tonight?”

“Why don’t you help me out big boy?”

“Cupcake, I’d like to save my appetite for the main course.”

“Tastes like chicken, doesn’t it?”

“My snooter tells me that there aren’t any more dishes coming tonight.”

“What? There’s no other course than this silly string?”

“My bouche is no longer amused.”

Meanwhile I made my own New Year’s resolution:

To keep a tighter leash on Mr. Wild Dingo.

December’s masthead celebrates our new adventures in a new climate. Neither dog has ever experienced snow so it has been a blast taking in their delight and wonder at the powdery stuff. At first Juno seemed indifferent to the weather, but the more the snow falls, the more she seems to enchanted with it. She savors being belly-deep in the cool powdery heaven. Loki also continues to enjoy it, but less so when the temperatures drop into the very cold ranges. (Thank you all for the coat recommendations. I will purchase one or two this week for him.)

Another storm swept in last night and today causing the unfortunate and unusual closing of Geneva airport. TravelMarx were scheduled to leave but had to postpone a day. Good news for me, since one’s a gourmet chef and one’s a clean freak. I’ve never had such a clean house and full belly. We used the extra day to go to the Modern Art Museum in Geneva but that’s another story.

Below are a couple of Travelmarx photos which inspired the header. As I poured through the Travelmarx’s daily photos and discovered these untouched beauties below, I nagged them until they spilled their secrets on how to get such great shots.

Photo inspiring the header. One of the TravelMarx and I walking the dogs in farms in Denens and Tolochenaz.
Wild Dingo readers have seen these paths a 100 times in the past few months, but they haven’t seen them like this!

The Morges harbor on one of our morning walks with the dogs.
I thought about using this as my header but I couldn’t bring myself to photoshopping the dogs anywhere on it. It’s too beautiful on its own.

 A tree in Morges that has these orange blossoms on it for real. The shot was taken just to highlight the orange blossoms.

Same tree, different angle. Orange is picked up in buildings behind it as well.

Ankle deep in Vufflens vineyards. Two days after the time of this photo, the snow in this area is knee-deep.
“Big Boy, what are the chances they drop these leashes and we can zoomie ’til the cows come home?”
“Did you say ‘cows’ Princess? And they’re coming home with us?”

Just before the pig and goat farm down the road from this hay field.  Soft lighting technique to pick up the beige colors.
“Sigh. This cool white powder is heaven Big Boy!”
“Princess, do you think the pigs and goats are out today?”

Same shot in normal color shooting.
“Oh my dawg, I’m so high on white powder I’m about to explode. Where can I get some more of this stuff TravelMarx?”
“WTF Princess? You look like you need to take one of my anti-cracker vitamins today!”

A small tree-arched lined walking path in Lully.
Have you noticed by now that I mentioned 4 or 5 different villages? I’ll bet you’d be surprised to know we cover that many in one 90-minute walk! Hm. Did I mention the villages are small here?

The trees above seem to be joined together as one living being but with two different large root bases.

Same tree, different lighting.

It’s been 20 years since I’ve lived in a snow-winter environment and it feels odd. I’ve never been a fan of the snow, mainly because I don’t like the cold. The older I got, the less important it was for me to have snow-filled holidays.  But so far, with a Siberian who belongs in it and a GSFMD who seems to go cracker for it, and the right clothing, I can’t complain. It’s simply gorgeous here after a new snow fall. And while I have absolutely no interest in skiing, I am looking forward to some snow activities such as snow-shoeing or perhaps cross country skiing. 

Then again, ask me again in February how I feel about the snow.

This month’s masthead features another stunning photo right outside our office window taken from this photo below.

The dogs are settling in and are finally starting to appreciate living here. Loki’s resigned himself to “making do” with this terrible living arrangement. One look out the window on any given day and we all find ourselves thinking “yup, this will do.”

There’s a lot of gorgeous sunsets and moon rises outside our office window. So much so that it was hard to choose one for the banner. I’m not one to take photos of sunsets or sun rises and posting them up on the blog because, well, there are usually no dogs in the photo so what’s the point, right?  But I haven’t been able to help myself. I see a sunset or sunrise like the one above or the one below and I grab the camera. Here was the alternate photo that made it difficult to choose:

It was taken from this sunrise outside the office window below:

As usual, I sent my masthead comps to Mr. Wild Dingo so he can help choose or give input. He liked both this time, but alas he claimed “Why did you take out Juno’s color  but why not Loki too? You always favor her.”  Sigh. It always comes down to boys against the girls, doesn’t it?  Um, hello, Mr. Wild Dingo: Juno IS black and white! And Loki is black and brown.It’s not like I converted her to black and white and not Loki. Besides her tongue is pink in the photo.

As if I’d favor either one. The truth is, I find myself questioning why I have a Siberian in the first place when so much of my personality favors a Shepherd breed. But they’d have to kill me before anyone could tear my Siberian from my clutches. There’s something “very dingo” about the Sibe in our house, which makes me very bonded to her. She’s definitely smarter than you’d think comparing her to a working Shepherd. But favor her over Loki? Nope. I wouldn’t dare. Well maybe a little bit but only when Loki’s not looking.

I can’t tell you how many times I get to see the sun peak through the clouds, light up the Alps or light up the lake. In fact, I’ve the seen the moon do some freaky gorgeous illuminations too.

Like this photo above. On the bottom of the photo is the moon’s reflection on Lake Geneva.

Here’s another shot of the moon rising over Lausanne or Evian. Give me a break, I can’t tell because it’s dark!

Yes, we all suppose this will do. For at least three years.

This month’s masthead is dedicated to adjusting to life as we now know it. All four of us have shown various signs of coping. Loki specifically has shown his coping strategies quite explicitly. Some days it breaks my heart. Other days, it makes me want to leap for joy to see him cope so eloquently. Juno seems to be the most steadfast. A dog who rolls with the punches and is excited to discover a new adventure each day. We all know if we don’t give her an adventure, she’ll make up her own!

The photo in the header came from a walk last week in Morges. I didn’t feel like going downtown as the sun as well my own energy levels were setting. At Independence Park, where we start our downtown walk, Juno chose our direction for us toward the shoreline away from the downtown. It was serendipity. The sun and the Alps were breathtaking next to the quiet shoreline. The photos below don’t do justice to the peaceful surrounds.

Unlike most of Wild Dingo’s mastheads, aside from some minor lighting enhancements, this banner is not photo-shopped. I chose the photo in the banner because Loki looks like he’s coming to terms with his surroundings. He’s still unsure but he has no choice so he tries to make the best of it. His face looks accepting but cautious. Juno, as always, looks forward toward her coming adventures.

A concrete pier awaits us as two gentlemen share a quiet snack.

Last week’s cultural training shed a huge light on our experience so far. Mr. Wild Dingo’s company has provided outstanding ex-patriot services in the way of helping us adjust to our temporary home here.  The company offered re-location consulting to help us find a home, get registered as residents in the towns, contact a fence contractor, set up gardening services, give us tips on where to shop and how to recycle and help us fill out forms for our Swiss drivers license. Anything we need in order to live here, we simply ask the re-location consultant–well to a certain degree.  When we first heard about cultural training, I thought, “How hard can living in Europe be? After all, I am a European descendant. They can’t be that different from us. It’s not like I’m moving to a third world country where I have to think about clean water and survival.”  Was I ever wrong.

Our cultural trainer has a Ph.D in international business consulting and a breadth of experiencing helping executives and families adjust globally so they can succeed. She’s written many books and her client list includes many Global Fortune 500 companies and world-known business leaders. The two day course was eye-opening for us, but especially for Mr. Wild Dingo, who is now working with many Swiss people. He came away with ideas to help him be successful in a challenging job situation.  Without getting off into a tangeant, let me add that it was comforting to hear her tell us that Mr. Wild Dingo’s job was one of the most challenging ex-pat assignments she had ever heard in her many years of coaching executives in cross-cultures.

Where do I begin? Switzerland is so amazingly diverse. Obviously. For one thing, the country has four languages. Nothing says more about the diversity than a fellow blogger who wrote about Switzerland’s Multiple Personality Disorder. (Go read it and laugh your ass off.) The Swiss are heavily rooted to their home towns. They won’t move too far out of their own canton and have a hard time comprehending how an ex-patriot actually moves here. Don’t be offended if a Swiss person asks when you are moving back. It’s not that they don’t want you here (or maybe it is) but more that they have a hard time understanding how a person can displace themselves so far from their home. They are well-traveled and educated. They speak many languages. But their roots are planted close to where they were born. 

Typically when you look at a map of Switzerland from the angle of Italy below, France to the left, you see the lakes and perhaps the cities. Perhaps you notice the Alps bording Italy and France. If you look at map of Switzerland upside down however, from the perspective of Germany, you really notice that the country is literally divided by the Alps. It never occurred to me that the Alps ran right through and not around the country. The valley in between the Jura and the Alps runs from Geneva to Zurich. It is not a large plataeu. In  fact, that viewpoint of Switzerland from Germany demonstrated quite strongly how limited their natural resources are and the challenge the Swiss faced to produce their own resources. The hardship of living off limited resources in the beginning of the country’s early development is a huge factor in understanding psychology of the Swiss.

It isn’t bad enough that Swiss German is different than High German, the language spoken in Germany.  n the German speaking part of Switzerland, there are over 46 dialects of Swiss German. And they can hear them all and know who is from where based on the dialect. It’s a little like New Jersey, Massachusettes and New York. They all speak English right? But it can take a while to pick up words based on dialect. I can’t image how difficult it would be in German.

While the Swiss are diverse in their language and even their values, the main thing that unifies the country is its politics. Switzerland was the first real democracy and everything here is voted on. The Swiss take their voting very seriously, about as seriously as their cows. They value their democracy and though there are large diversities between the groups, they bond on that underlying belief. Sound a bit familiar?

Some may notice that the Swiss seem a bit unfriendly. I personally have not noticed this, but it can be quite noticeable in business. The fact is, they don’t smile as much as Americans. They are not unhappy. They are not mad at you. They simply do not engage in the effort of smiling as much as Americans do.  It is not uncommon for a Swiss man to be confused and misinterpret an American woman who simply smiles as she walks by. I’ve only experienced this phenomenon a handful of times. Instead, I have had many more friendly and warm encounters with the Swiss. They are genuinely helpful. They will ask if you want them to speak English if you are struggling. They apologize profusely for their poor English, which I find endearingly polite yet unnecessary. When was the last time an American ever apologized to a Mexican for speaking poor Spanish? They are patient with our poor French skills.

They are incredibly punctual and precise. They take a great deal of pride in the quality of their work and service here has been (for us) phenomenal. While our fence may have cost us a great deal of money, the professionalism, speed and quality were worth every CHF.  They are unyielding when it comes to perfection and quality. While this sounds like an admirable quality, it can be a huge barrier in the business world.

While all of this seems small in the ways of adjusting, there are probably 87,000 other adjustments each day that we face in addition to simple cultural differences.  Physical adjustments impacted all four of us in different ways. There are more pollens here, which change constantly with the farming and planting,  which causes both of Mr. Wild Dingo and to have more sinus headaches or stuffy noses. 

The water here seems hard and for the first few weeks I had skin trouble. I also managed to get a cut on my lip, which I never had before, that wouldn’t heal for weeks. It was maddening how painful and annoying it was to be unable to open my mouth fully.  And for anyone who knows me, they know how mentally painful it can be for my yapper to be forced shut.  

After discovering that cut lips can be caused from low iron levels, I looked to the water I was drinking. Simple observation showed that the water was heavily treated, perhaps with potassium. In CA we used potassium to soften and remove extra iron from our well water. However, we also used reverse osmosis to remove extra potassium in our drinking water at home. The white chalky residue build up on our pots and pans here told me I was probably drinking in too much potassium which could affect my own iron levels. Unfortunately, I cannot take iron supplements as I have a condition that will lead to me retaining too much iron. Instead, I manage my iron levels through diet.   An $8 tube of Blistex and a switch to Evian (yes, they all drink Evian here) finally heeled my lip within a week. I also switched the dogs to a filtered water as well.

It’s amazing that something so basic as the water can affect a person, but it does. That’s just a small look at the physical adjustments we face.  The stressors are small, but they add up. 

Even with all the support that comes through an ex-patriot work program, it can still be difficult to cope. There is not a single stage in the graphic below that we have not visited more than once.  In fact, it’s not uncommon to repeat the stages over time, nor is it uncommon to go through many in one day! And we’ve only been here six weeks.

We shake our heads constantly and ask “What are we doing here?” With all the support you get from the program, it can feel very lonely because the cultural differences are so large it can feel like nobody understands. It’s nice to know the program understands. They even listed not one, but two hot lines to call if you ever need someone to talk to. Our cultural trainer had mentioned that sometimes children will call on behalf of their Moms or Dads! When companies send you on an international assignment, they are dead serious about helping you succeed. We remind ourselves constantly of that and embrace the changes. After all, you can’t really know yourself until you’ve faced a life change or two.

I think the hardest part for me is watching the dogs deal with change. If I told Loki we were going home today, he’d probably go purchase his own plane ticket and drag his crate by his teeth to the airport toss it into the cargo of the plane and hop in the crate and plane himself. He’s that homesick. I can see it. I think he misses his acres of free running space and the familiar surroundings. Mr. Wild Dingo even noticed himself that Loki misses his training and school. After the two years of complaining about me taking the dogs to training all the time, he now understands the value of it for Loki.

Juno on the other hand rolls with the punches. I’m not sure where she prefers to be but she doesn’t seem to show much stress with the changes. O.K., maybe she tried to jump out the window last week, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a suicidal attempt.

Loki is alert to every single noise. While he’s adjusting to the neighborhood noises, he’s still on alert in town. The first day in the farms, there were loud “gun shot” noises that are devices used to scare the birds from the crops. Juno kept walking and never noticed the noise. Loki braced himself to the ground and did an all-over scan of the topography for who was out to kill him. After all, we know the Swiss prefer Bernese Mountain Dogs over Formosan Mountain Dogs.  Over time, he’s come to ignore the loud shots.

I’m extremely concerned with Loki’s reaction to the environment. For sure it’s not his diet. He’s definitely developed an allergy, most likely to the grasses or the pollens. He rolls in the grass as much as he can to scratch his back and neck but I’m afraid it’s probably making him worse. I’ve always had given him fish oil in his diet and occasionally in CA he’d scratch a little bit. I couldn’t find fish oil anywhere here yet, so I just stopped giving it and his scratching is non-stop. One night he didn’t sleep a wink (and neither did we). He frantically paced and scratched the entire night. Since then, he’s refused to sleep in our bedroom on his own bed. Who knows why.  At the moment he’s on prednisone and a large dose of fish oil from the vet. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that once he goes off the prednisone, the fish oil will keep his scratching down to a minimum. Above all, our health and our dog’s health are the things I value most and nothing stresses me more when one of us is sick.

When I saw the opportunity to take some photos with the sun setting, Loki was having difficulty feeling confident. Normally, he’s a soldier and will stay exactly where I put him until I tell him otherwise. But close to the water, he panics. Any movement from the water, a wave or a duck, will cause him to abandon his post. Rather than be the heavy about his obedience (a down is a down), I realize his behavior is out of stress and take the pressure off using delicious rewards. There’s no better way to cope with change than a tastey treat.

 ”Hey Daddy-O, I’m a little sick of chicken for dinner. Why don’t you take a swim and wrestle us up some duck for dinner?”

“Princess, all the ducks in the world wouldn’t get me to jump in that lake!” 

I finally got a badly needed haircut the other day. I bit the bullet and just walked into a salon and said “Give me the same color and cut, keep the layers around my face.” And now I look like I could be in a White Snake music video. Thankfully, I don’t stress about bad haircuts. After all, hair grows out and that’s what hats are for. Still, lucky for me, Mr. Wild Dingo digs the new cut. Then again, I’m pretty sure if I search his CD collection, I’ll find some White Snake somewhere.

 A wee wave comes in.
“WTF? It’s the Lake Leman-ness Monster!  I’m outta here!”

 ”Sigh. And they call him the guard dog.”

Later, Loki surprises me and hops onto the retaining wall edge of the lake without a prompt from me.

“One small hop for a Formosan dog, one huge victory for Formosan-kind!”
He shows me he is adjusting. On his time table.

All these little challenges can seem so minor and insignificant. But added up and piled on, no matter how nice the people in this country are, no matter how beautiful the landscape and how much opportunity there is to travel, it can be overwhelming and it’s so easy to ask “why did we do this?” But none of that matters. We’re here now. And this is life–as we now know it.

Well now I’ve done it. I’ve gone and caused chaos for the canines. How dare I. Their entire world as they’ve known it has been turned upside down–starting with that dog-awful 13-hour jail sentence. And now they don’t have their luxurious home, their dog door, their tree house, NitWit Bridge or acres of land to run free on. Instead they were forced to trade it in for a beautiful lush green lawn, thousands of miles of world-class hiking adventures and the smell of fresh pastry just outside their door.

Truth be told, both dogs, aside from a little sulking about not yet being able to run free in the yard (hence this month’s masthead theme), both are handling the change very well. Routine has set in. Loki has gotten his appetite back. He had lost it a few weeks before we moved, no doubt sensing the change. In all rights, I should not have been able to relocate a dog like Loki. His anxiety can be over the top. But we’ve come a long way from two-years ago when bicycles, joggers, screaming children and people pulling luggage would send him over the top. Now, he’s prancing along side his Husky in a foreign land on farms and in crowded areas, still his suspicious-self, but none-the-less more confident, experiencing loud farm noises (I have no idea what they are, but it sounds like a gun shot or a car backfire), huge farm animals and for the first time, neighbors. And he’s handling it much better than I ever anticipated.

Well, except for the 3 or 4 times he wakes up Mr. Wild Dingo for snuggles each night when he’s feeling worried. It’s not unusual for Loki to do that. Whenever there’s been change in our lives, if Mr. Wild Dingo had been travelling a lot or if we had gone out of town, Loki would always deal with it by getting in two or three extra snuggles in the middle of the night making a good night’s sleep impossible. Unfortunately, Mr. Wild Dingo is a huge softy and reinforces it by complying to snuggle and Loki then builds up the habit. Sigh. Just like a child, a few nights of ignoring him and he goes right back to sleeping through the night. I’ll have to remember to duct-tape Mr. Wild Dingo’s hands and mouth to remind him not to snuggle with him.

Juno however, like the typical Husky, is taking it all in stride. Every day is a new adventure for her and she greets it with exuberant pouncing. She loves the farms and is completely obsessed with stalking cows, goats, horses and now pigs. While Loki is usually hiding his face, or looking to me to pacify him with a treat, Juno has been refusing food whenever she is near any livestock and can become at Tasmanian devil if she sees them before I do.  Both have seemed to gotten over their fascination or fears of horses, but cows… oh the cows… I don’t know what to do about the cows. Unfortunately, the cows are curious and friendly and will walk toward anyone passing their fence line (though it’s not acceptable to pet them here). I wonder if they are having a good laugh at us looking like The Three Stooges as we try to pass by without an embarrassing incident. I’m already fantasizing about finding a trainer that helps desensitize dogs to farm animals.

Both dogs’ favorite walk is downtown Morges. There are so many smells, plenty of people and for some reason, we get a lot of looks. I haven’t figured out if it’s the Husky or the GSFMD that draws the attention. Either way, these two are on their way to becoming international celebraties. But I’m sure they’ll both find a way to disapprove of that.

May’s banner is dedicated to the beginning of beginning a new beginning. “Come again,” you say?

It’s been almost 6 months since we knew about our move to Luasanne, Switerzland.  And funny enough, we were informed the entire process would take only as long as 12 weeks. It’s been about 12 weeks longer than the 12 week expectation and we’ve only just begun. But we don’t want to jump the gun again. We can only commit to saying that we’re beginning to begin the big move.

We received federal approval of our Visas and are waiting for the consulate to approve and provide it.  As we count down the days for that to finalize, the relocation company has begun the process of relocation. But we aren’t moving yet. Don’t worry Internet, when I know, you’ll be the third to know. There’s a whole bunch more stuff to do. Finding a place to live is the priority and that hasn’t happened. In fact, we haven’t even scheduled the beginning process for that.  Oddly though, the shipping vendor has contacted me and requested all my information, including what I’m packing, passport information and our final destination. Hmm… In addition our “cultural tutor” has contacted us to set us up a 2-day educational program on Swiss culture before we move. Well thank dog! At least we know we’ll be able to spot the differences between Swiss and American cheese and Nestle and Lindt chocolate.

And through all of this, I am researching pet relocation vendors to assist me in the daunting process of importing my beloved ant farm and gold fish. 

This month’s masthead conveys the results of what April Showers may bring. I never know what I’m going to do for my monthly masthead until I sit down at the computer. And I’m always amazed at the metaphors I subconsciously conjure. Yes, I had a Flower Power post earlier. But honestly, we all know Juno is my flower girl and Loki is my Power boy. They fit so well together. So I dared to use it again. Loki looks comfortable revealing his feminine side. But I wonder, would O’Keef approve? 

I was a little light on the blogging this month. Loki and I have been in some intense training and it’s been, to say the least, draining in some ways. I’ll have more on it early May, but suffice it to say, I miss blogging about their silly escapades and I plan to pull back a bit on the training and get back to more publicity of their shenanigans!

Wild Dingo blogging is in da hooooussse!