A break in the action

Between now and midnight (which is when the first results come in over here), I can either sit here and develop an aneurysm, or, more constructively, I can post some random odds and ends that I've had sitting around for a while. Fortunately for all involved, I've decided on the second choice. So, in no particular order ...

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When I first arrived at my new apartment, the only thing waiting for me in my mailbox was a letter from my property manager telling me that someone would be around to fix a leaky radiator, and a bulk mail catalog from Ronja Versand. Ronja, as it is effectively known, is a retailer of the finer things in life: microfiber sheets, bath robes, and high fashion clothing for him and her. Best of all, Ronja delivers these products at very competitive prices. How do they manage to do this? By cutting out the middle man: products are shipped directly from 1993 to your door. Check out some of these dope threads.

Fig. 1: Having a tough time choosing between a dragon motif and tiger-print for the sheets in your babe lair? Problem solved.

Fig. 2: Please Hammer, don't hurt 'em!

Fig. 3: They have many different styles, so everyone in Tha Funky Bunch can sport a unique look.

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The first thing you notice when you see my apartment is the front door. Not only because it's literally the gateway to my apartment, but also because it is crazy. First, it is big, ugly, and gray, which doesn't fit at all with the muted cream/wood colors of the building interior. Of course, it's a hideous color of gray because it's made out of industrial sheet metal, not wood. Also, it has a huge door knob in the middle of the door (hobbit-style) and big, metal circle on the left where the lock is. All in all, it is not the most welcoming door I've ever seen; it really looks more like something you'd see in a prison or bank. As ugly as it is from the outside, to really appreciate it you have to open it up.

Fig. 4: Between the many deadbolts and the long hallway that it opens into, my apartment is virtually impregnable.

As I have cleverly marked with the red arrows, the door has not one but SEVEN deadbolts. Four are located next to the normal latch, one above that, one below it, and a final one that goes vertically into to the top of the door frame. These are the kind of locks that you have if you live in the Bronx, in the 70's. Last I checked, the crime rate in Lausanne was fairly low and although my neighborhood has a definite "ethnic" feel to it, I would hardly call it dangerous or even slightly sketchy. Further, the fact that these doors are so "secure" is sort of countered by the fact that the main door to the building is practically zero security: if it happens to close properly (which it usually doesn't), all you have to do to open it is press the button labeled poste and push the door. This is a secret, though, so don't go telling any criminals.

As everyone in the building has one of these crazy high-security doors, they were obviously purchased by the management in bulk. Which leads me to the question: what kind of person decides to buy obscenely expensive doors for every unit, but doesn't buy a clothes dryer for the building? All I can figure is that the doors salesman/woman must have been one helluva looker.

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I have a problem in my apartment: fruit flies. I've never really noticed these before in my life, but these little buggers are all over my new apartment. It's true that they don't bite, and in general they don't really pester you that much, but, man, to paraphrase my governor, they are some ugly mofos.

Fig. 5: If you zoom in, you can see their creepy looking red heads. GROSS.

I know what your thinking: Paul, you must be a slob. But no! I swear, my apartment is clean, there is no rotting food anywhere, and I don't leave crumbs or dirty dishes on the counter. As best as I can tell, most of the flies seem to be attracted by (gasp) Basil. So, obviously, I can't just "remove the source of the problem" as one might do under normal circumstances, so I need options.

I looked around on the internet and found a couple of home remedies. One suggested putting some white wine in a cup along with a micro-dab of dish detergent. The idea is that the wine attracts the flies, but the dish detergent breaks the surface tension of the water and causes the flies to drown when they land on the water, instead of float. This idea intuitively appealed to me, as it seemed grounded in solid physics, so I set up a small jar as instructed. Another recommendation was to put a piece of fruit in a jar, then cover the jar with cellophane. If you punch just the right sized holes in the cellophane, the flies can fly in, but they can't fly out. As I had some fruit, some cellophane, and another jar, I set this one up as well. My office mate suggested a bowl of honey, mixed with a dash of vinegar. He claimed that the honey attracts the flies and that the vinegar kills them. I told him that his entire setup confused me, because, well I've certainly heard about honey and vinegar vis-à-vis catching flies, but I wasn't sure that it agreed with his premise. Also, I don't have honey or vinegar at home, so I couldn't test his theory.

Fig. 6: Basil's future hangs in the balance.

This is a picture of the overnight results of the test. As you can see, the glass of wine seemed to attract quite a few flies, but only a couple actually took a swim. Since it only killed three flies in about 12 hours, it was not as effective as a paper towel or a rolled up newspaper, so I decided to call it off. The fruit in the glass has not yet attracted any interest from the flies. I figure I'll give it a couple of days to properly "rot" and we'll see if that makes any difference. In the mean time, I continue to hunt the flies myself and I, of course, eagerly await suggestions from my beloved readers.

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Last Friday was Halloween, which I almost totally forgot about. No one here seemed to be to excited about it, and I don't think I saw a single costume on campus all day. Oh well. But, when I got home, there was a whole gaggle of kids in costumes milling about my building. I got super excited that for the first time in my life I might be able to actually give out candy to a kid for Halloween, but, of course, all of the candy that people have sent me here in Switzerland is sitting in my office. So, I ran down the street to the corner store, bought a bunch of candy bars (full-sized!) and ran back to my apartment. By the time I got back, the group of kids was gone, but I optimistically put the candy in a nice bowl (it would have been weird to give people candy out of a plastic bag) and grabbed my camera -- I wanted to be prepared. Of course, not a single other kid came anywhere near my building, so it was all a huge bust. Oh well. I didn't really have any good reason to post this, I really just wanted to mention Halloween so I would have an excuse to show a WAY TOO ADORABLE photo of my nephew in his costume.

Fig. 7: Although it wasn't as good a costume as last year (he was a baby Elvis), at least he went with Bob the Builder instead of Joe the Plumber.

Currently, the Man (and his mother and father) are in Rome. On November 12th, I meet them in beautiful Sion, Switzerland, and from there, I get to spend 4 full days with Alexander. It will be awesome. If I were you, I'd be jealous already. And, don't worry -- I'll take plenty of pictures.

Notes from the barely above ground

As I may have hinted at a couple of times before, Switzerland is an expensive place. If you go to a typical store and look for a typical item (say, a trash can or a bag of potatoes), odds are you will have to pay at least 50% more than you would for a similar item in the US. Actually, that isn't exactly true. For certain things (mainly vegetables and fruits), this is definitely true. For household items and similar things, the real problem is finding "graduate-student" quality items; typically the cheapest item a store will carry will be significantly nicer or better than you really want. For example, the first things I needed to buy when I got my first apartment were towels and a floor mat. After a lot of searching, I found a two-pack of white bath towels on sale for 30 CHF and the cheapest floor mat I could find cost 40 CHF. In the US, you could go to your local Target, and probably find two (not particularly great quality) towels for at most $10 each, and I'm sure you could get a floor mat for about $5. This bottom rung of quality is almost impossible to find here. Almost. Fortunately, though, there's always Ikea.

At grad school, all of my furniture was used Ikea garbage (that's pronounced "gahrbahje") that I bought off of a departing post-doc. It was in good shape, clean, and super cheap (I think I paid like $200 for everything in my bedroom). But, as 2Pac (?) once said, when I became a post-doc, I put away childish things. It was time for me to purchase my own, brand new Swedish garbage.

Fortunately, one of my labmates is a former Ikea employee. With his insider knowledge and an Ikea catalog that another labmate had, picking out my furniture and accessories was a piece of cake. Using the same technique I use for choosing wine at a restaurant (always go for the second cheapest bottle), I made a thorough list of everything I would need to buy. Ikea is open "late" (9 PM) on Thursdays and Fridays, so a bunch of us made a field trip two Thursdays ago. Although there was quite a bit of initial skepticism that I would be able to purchase everything on my list (which nearly covered two sides of a piece of paper) in the roughly two hours that we had, shopping was a breeze. By 8:30 PM, I had gotten the rental van from the transportation center and we had filled it with all of my junk. Driving back to Lausanne was a bit touch-and-go (the Ikea is out in the middle of nowhere, between Lausanne and Geneva), but ultimately, though, I made it back and my friends helped me unload everything. Here is a picture of pretty much everything that I bought on that first trip:

Fig. 1: It is both fascinating and mildly depressing that virtually all of my furniture fit inside the back of a mid-sized van.

As you can see, there were a lot of boxes; I think a couple of the big boxes didn't even make it into the picture. My first thought was that assembling the furniture would take about one weekend, max. Two weeks and one return trip to Ikea later, I have finally finished assembling everything I bought. I'm not quite done buying furniture, since I still need to get a futon, but those are extremely easy to find used and since I won't be sleeping on it (much), I will make an exception to my "all-new furniture" rule. Here are some pics of the newly decked out apartment.

Fig. 2: It was difficult to get all the girls to clear the shot, but if they didn't it would be hard to see all of my classy furniture.

Fig. 3: The empty space on the left is for the futon. And, Yes, I did pay money for that carpet. I happen to think it looks cool.

Fig. 4: If you need to disassemble a piece of Ikea furniture and just can't find that little tool, give me a call -- I got you covered.

I have some miscellaneous things to post, but it's getting late -- they'll have to wait for tomorrow.

Inner City Pressure

Well, it only took two and a half months, but I have finally moved into a quasi-permanent apartment. With a little help from Serge and his car, and a few fully-encumbered hikes across town, I have cast off my tiny, ugly, smelly studio for a much larger, less ugly, and significantly better smelling apartment on the other side of Lausanne. Last night was my first night in the new apartment, so I am still getting to know the place, but I figured I ought to post something before people start boycotting my blog in protest.

First, the good:

• The apartment nice, clean, and spacious.
• The bathroom is clean, has a full shower, and nice fixtures.
• The kitchen has a full-sized oven, four-burner stove, and plenty of cabinets.
• The bedroom is large, has it's own radiator, and has a wooden floor.
• The building looks really high-class on the inside and looks well-maintained.
• I have a cellar the size of a basketball court. Unfortunately, there's no electricity, so I can't turn it into a second bedroom.
• The surrounding neighborhood has an eclectic (for Switzerland) mix of people and places. Just down the street from my house, there is a Chinese, an Indian, and a Middle-eastern bodega. There is also an Indian restaurant, a Vietnamese restaurant (Linda Vista represent!), a Middle-eastern restaurant, and two pizza places.
• There are two barber shops in my building and at least 4 on the block. I live in the absolute epicenter of stylish, low-cost hair-cutting. How ironic.
• I am within walking distance of a huge supermarket (which is only open during "normal" business hours) and a couple of smaller places that are open as late as 10pm.
• I am only a 6 minute walk from the metro stop, thus making my total commute time 18 minutes.
• I am around the corner from the "Colonia Liberia Italia," an Italian community center. If I ever get the urge to play cards with Italian pensioners, I don't have to go far.
• I am only a 5 minute walk from the Collection de l'Art Brut, i.e. the single-greatest art gallery in the known world. Everyone I know loves this place. If you are even remotely thinking about coming out to Lausanne to visit, let me say: You need to come to this city just to see this gallery. It will BLOW YOUR MIND.

The bad:

• The apartment is on the Rez-de-chaussée, i.e. the ground floor. Fortunately, it is somewhat elevated from the street so there is at least some semblance of privacy.
• A significant portion of my total floor space consists of a long, fairly useless hallway.
• There are no closets.
• There is not a single drawer in the kitchen.
• There is not a square inch of actual storage space in the apartment.
• There are 27 units in the building, and there is exactly one washing machine in the basement for everyone to use.

The ugly:

There is no dryer. Just a bunch of laundry lines and a space heater. I haven't gone through the calculation myself, but I would estimate that this system is so obscenely inefficient that a new dryer would pay for itself in energy savings within a few months. Further, given that they must be pulling in around $25k a month in rent, you think they could swing the one-time cost of a dryer. Really, what aggravates me about this is that I have lived in this building for 24 hours and I am ready to go fight (metaphorically) with the concierge, the management, the ownership, or whoever it takes in order to get a frigging dryer in this building, and I want it immediately. On the other hand, there are 26 other people who have lived here much, much longer but are of such weak moral fiber that they probably haven't even voiced a complaint. Pathetic.

People who've known me a long time know I have a certain fondness for quixotic quests such as this (e.g. open lunch in high school, math forum at Mudd, recycling at Sharon Crest, etc.) so I assure you that there will be future updates on the situation.

Time for some pics!

Fig. 1: The outside of my building. Those two (and a half) windows belong to me. "Coiffure Edgar" offers surprisingly reasonable rates for being in Switzerland, but I still doubt that it can hold a candle to San Diego's Happy Barber and Happy Barber 2.

Fig. 2: The entrance of my apartment. I am thinking of covering the walls in mirrors to give the illusion of space.

Fig. 3: My living room. Yes, that is my only piece of "furniture." I am typing on it right now.

Fig. 4: My quite large bedroom. The white thing in the bottom right corner is the edge of a folding bed that my labmate has let me borrow. In the future, I will probably put my bed in the middle of the room, because as my one-time roommate Jonathan Hsu wisely noted, "I have seen tons of episodes of MTV Cribs and not one rapper has their bed in a corner."

Fig. 5: My kitchen. The clothes (visible on the left) are there because the small ledge there is quite literarly the only place in the house that I can hang clothes at the present time. A trip to Ikea in the near future will hopefully remedy this situation.

I hope that you have enjoyed this brief tour of my new place, I'm sorry if there isn't a whole lot to show. Once I get some furniture and whatnot, I'll probably take some more photos, just to whet your appetite to come visit. And, of course, I'll make sure to take a picture of the new dryer as soon as we get it.

Best morning ever

Two important pieces of news this morning. First, this news item. If you read the whole thing, you will come across some very important facts. Namely, Bridget Marquardt and Hugh Heffner's relationship "may also be in flux" and that "Marquardt is in Europe filming the new Travel Channel series 'Bridget's Beaches.'" So, Bridget is on the rocks with Heff and she's currently in Europe ... the stars are aligning.

Oh, and in other news, I GOT AN APARTMENT! Can I get a WOOT WOOT! Although I haven't signed any papers yet, I got a call this morning from an Agency informing me that I had been chosen to receive the lovely 2 pièces apartment at Avenue de France 28. The apartment is newly renovated with a nice kitchen, wood floors, and all the fixins. The move-in date is Oct 15, so I will be changing in a hurry. Now, of course, I need to put out an ad to find someone to take over my current apartment, or I'm on the hook for an additional month's rent. Shouldn't be to too hard in this market, though.

In even more news, this morning I had to bid farewell to Andy Schile after his totally unexpected but exciting visit to Lausanne. Tuesday morning, he sent me an email saying he was in Germany. By Tuesday night, he was eating Fondue and having the time of his life. This is how we roll in Lausanne: give me a call, show up at my door, whatever -- I am ALWAYS READY TO PARTY.

The fun started right when he got off the train -- I took him with me to go to an appointment I had made to look at an apartment. Here is Andy enjoying this traditional Swiss activity.

Fig. 1: Andy, helping out on the apartment hunt. Here, he is attempting to estimate the number of sexy ladies that could comfortably dance together in the bathroom.

This could be you, if you would come visit me.

For those of you who are curious, here are the final statistics on the apartment search.

• Total number of apartments visited: 38
• Total number of apartments applied to: 29
• Total number of rejections received: 20 -- some are still "undecided"
• Total number of apartments considered: Probably around 80 - 100.
• Average monthly rent: 1157 CHF
• Highest monthly rent: 1700 CHF
• Lowest monthly rent: 910 CHF
• Average size: 53 sq. meters (570 sq. ft)
• Largest apartment: 77 sq. meters (829 sq. ft)
• Smallest apartment: 36 sq. meters (388 sq ft)
• Average Etage: 2.5 Etage (the 3rd 1/2 floor, in the American system)
• Total number of Agencies dealt with: At least 22
• Total search time: 80 days

More details as they become available, and of course, there will be a housewarming party when I finally move in, so stay tuned.

Bric-à-brac

Just a couple of quick notes today, with no particular theme.

First, I've switched apartments. No, I haven't gotten a proper apartment (I visited 5 more apartments yesterday), but I have switched rooms in the same building. The new apartment is smaller (it's about the size of my last dorm room at Mudd) but significantly nicer and cheaper. It doesn't have the same "charm" as the old one (every single scrap of furniture is from IKEA), but it also doesn't have the same "smell" or "unusual stains on the walls." I will post a picture of Basil in his new digs soon.

I was able to switch french classes as well, so last night I had my first class at level B1. It was definitely much more my style. The teacher was enthusiastic and friendly; the students were... well, almost all of the student were older than me (by a lot) and German, so it was an odd group. We had to do an activity at the beginning of class wherein we talked to the people next to us and came up with a list of 3 things that we had in common. The two women sitting next to me were both middle-aged Germans, so we had a tough time finding things in common. One of them didn't like to travel. The other didn't like to walk in the mountains. Neither of them liked fondue, or swiss wine. All we could agree on was that we "liked to garden," which was a bit of a stretch for me since poor ol' Basil is all the garden I have.

I also learned an interesting word today, as well. Did you know that the French word for "a potluck" is un repas canadien, which means "a Canadian meal." Is having a potluck something that French people consider truly Canadian, like Hockey and Tim Horton's? Or do French people think that Canadians are a bunch of cheapskates who don't provide food for their guests? In that sense, is it like all the English words that were invented to mock the Dutch (dutch uncle, dutch treat, dutch wife, dutch labmate, etc.)? Either way, I think we (us Americans, that is) should do our best to displace "potluck" in favor of "Canadian dinner." I think it has a nice ring to it.

I went on a killer hike Sunday, up in the Neuchâtel region. Not counting when I got lost (I didn't actually have a map, just some inadequate instructions I printed off of the internet), I hiked about 14 miles, from the Motiers train station, up the gorge of La Poëta-Raisse, over to the breathtaking Creux du Van, and finally down to the Noiraigue train station. Portions of the hike were absolutely gorgeous (see my pictures below), while other portions were less than ideal. It's difficult to find anywhere in Switzerland that's truly isolated -- you're almost never more than a mile from a road -- so hiking a long route means wandering through town every hour or two. Thus, the "trail" is often the "road" and when it isn't paved, it usually leads through a pasture. Since I've seen violent, fighting cows with my own eyes here in Switzerland, I found it a little bit unsettling to have to walk amongst them. They look at you. They follow you. And sometimes, they just freak out for no reason whatsoever and start trotting away from you. In general, I would have preferred less cows.

On the positive side, this also means that you pass by a lot of little restaurants. Sunday was the first time that I had climbed a gorge, crossed through miles of pastures, and then enjoyed a nice chilled glass of white wine on the patio of a charming country restaurant. Not a bad way to take a break. Anyway, pictures below.

Fig. 1: So picturesque. And the gorge isn't half-bad either.

Fig. 2: Gorgeous gorges.

Fig. 3: As if one needed more reasons to be fearful of cows.

Fig. 4: At first I thought this was an ugly flower. Then I realized it was the most awesome mushroom I have ever seen in my life. If I'm not mistaken, this variety is primarily found in World 4-3.

Fig. 5: Staying hydrated is key to a successful hike.

Fig. 6: Just an awful picture of a truly beautiful place. The Creux du Van is accessible either by hiking all day (the route I chose) or by driving to Le Soliat and walking about 50 feet.

Fig. 7: From the small "Petting Zoo" in Les Oeuillons, near the end of the hike. Isn't he just the cutest thing you ever saw? Too adorable!

Take me down to Studio-Cité

As I sort of hinted at in an earlier post, finding an apartment in Lausanne has been a difficult task. When I was planning this little sojourn to Switzerland, I figured that a week or two ought to be ample time to find an apartment, a bank account, a cell phone, etc. I had heard some rumors about the excesses of red tape here, and I knew that there was a housing shortage far away in metropolitan Geneva, but I thought that my prodigious talent at bureaucracy would rule the day and I would be fine. Oh, how naïve I was those many days ago.

Without going through more boring details, the bottom line is that at present I am living in what can only be described as the last available apartment in Lausanne. I got the last available room in the only furnished apartment building in the city that had any vacancy whatsoever. Let me describe it to you.

I live at Avenue de Menthon 16, in the "Studio-Cité" furnished apartment building. It is in the neighborhood known as "La cité," and the building is within eye-sight of the incredible Lausanne Cathedral and the old University building. Until the University moved to a campus outside of the city (which is where I work), this used to be the students' quarter of town. As far as it goes, it's hard to beat the location. Sort of. We'll get to that later.

Once inside the building, the first thing you notice is the smell. It smells like someone has recently spilled a huge ashtray on the floor, and hasn't gotten around to cleaning it up. It's true that as a Californian, I have been socially programmed to be ridiculously sensitive to cigarette smoke, but this building has the worst smell of any I've been in, yet. Since this is in general a temporary residence for the tenants, they tend not to treat it with the same respect they would a more permanent place. People throw butts in the stairway and hallways, and the stench coming out of some people's doors will pretty much knock you over. Here is a picture of the not-at-all depressing hallway which leads from the stairwell to my door (at the very end).

Fig. 1: Not a lot of light at the end of the tunnel.

Once you open the door, a new and even more interesting smell awaits. After some investigation, I think that the smell has two primary sources: first, the wooden eaves. Since I'm on the top floor, the walls and ceiling of my apartment are part of the building support and are thus at least a hundred years old. A hundred years of rain and snow can create some serious rot and and mildew, even in the best of circumstances. The other major source is definitely the bathroom. God knows what's going on in the shower, but since I'm only going to be in this apartment until the 1st of September (I get to switch to another room in the building), the landlady doesn't want to do anything about it. I've tried cleaning it with kitchen spray, and it was unaffected. Here's a picture of my bathroom, try not to look at the rot in the shower.

Fig. 2: Minty!

As with all great achievements, it's the little things that make it really stand out. First, notice where the toilet paper holder is. It's directly in the line of fire for the shower head, if the shower head were put in the bracket on the wall. Of course, the bracket on the wall is missing screws and can't support the weight of the shower head. But that's ok, since the shower head is too large to fit in the bracket anyway and has to be held by hand constantly, thus making it difficult to do simple things like apply soap from the bottle to the lather builder. And of course, the shower curtain doesn't go around the corner and block the toilet paper, so every morning's shower is a little adventure.

I was complaining about this to Serge the other day, and his comment was, "Yeah, that's the French style of designing showers." To which I asked, "well, how do the French deal with the problem of not getting the toilet paper wet?"

"Easy. They don't take showers."

Fig. 3: Not at all creepy.

Some more details: approximately fifty years ago (I'm guessing) someone decided to liven up the place by the addition of cartoon stickers featuring naked kids. Classy.

Fig. 4: At least the linoleum is new.

Continuing our tour, we next go to the living room, or "room" as I like to call it. The furniture is in decent shape, the bed is almost as tall as I am, and there is an honest-to-god china hutch. I guess I could keep my China in it, were it to come to that.

Fig. 5: Mystery meuble in action.

In the back left of the picture, under the bookcase is a piece of furniture whose purpose I am not particularly clear on. I'm posting a close-up (with the active part "deployed") in the hopes that someone knows what this is and how I should use it.

Fig. 6: Not visible: the store that sells exclusively "Warhammer 40K" paraphernalia, around the corner.

Finally, the view out one of my windows. Yes, that's a motorcycle parking lot directly below me. And that building? It's a police station (with squad cars). Of course, around the corner is a hospital (with ambulances). Of the three, the worst is definitely the motorcycles, but between the three I haven't had an uninterrupted night's sleep yet. Oh well, no place is perfect.

A Pickle

This evening, I had an appointment to view an apartment. That's how it works here in Switzerland; recent immigrants are always making appointments to view apartments. Why? First: there are no apartments. Well, practically none. According to a recent study, the percentage of apartments which are vacant in Lausanne at this moment is around 0.1%; that's 1 per 1000. Actually, this is an estimate, as the actual number is probably fewer. During the month of June, for example, only 48 people moved into new apartments (in a city of 125,000). How did I find all this information out? Did one of my many Swiss friends warn me about this before I left from the new world? Of course not. I found out about this when I bought a newspaper -- so that I could casually check out the classified ads and really "get going" about an apartment -- and saw the lead headline: "Housing Crisis Becomes Dramatic" (La crise du logement devient dramatique).

Once one appreciates the fact that there are many many people attempting to move into not-so-many apartments, the apartment searching process begins to make some sense. So, you start by checking out the classified ads (les petits anonces) and the internet for listings. Apartments are listed by the number of pièces or roughly "rooms" which means that when comparing to the American system, you take the number of pieces, subtract one and you get the number of bedrooms -- the living room (le séjour) counts as a pièce. Subtract the dinning room, which counts as a pièce, if it exists, and subtract all hope of a decently sized refrigerator or closets and there you go. Thanks to somewhat counter-productive rent control laws, prices tend to be a little bit lower than what you'd expect in a reasonably sized American city. Most of the 2 pièce places I've looked at go for between 1000 and 1200 CHF (Swiss Francs are almost exactly a buck); in the Bay area, they'd probably be about $1200 - $1500.

Once you've accumulated a short (or long) list of potential apartments, your next step is to brush up on your french, swallow your pride, and start making some phone calls. Thanks to one of the many laws that seems only to serve the landed gentry here (more of these later), you will have to call the current renter (le locataire), as it is their responsibility to show it to people until it is taken. Assuming the apartment is not yet taken (attribué) -- which can happen surprisingly quickly -- the current renter will make an appointment with you to let you into his/her home for a quick tour. I'm not really sure about the etiquette here, I mean, what exactly are you supposed to say when someone shows you their toilet? Or their shower, which may or may not be located in the kitchen? I tend to just nod and smile; if I'm feeling brave I'll risk a brief question about the laundry facilities and then I thank the person for their time and bid them adieu. I should note here that more often than not, you won't be the only person seeing the apartment at that time. I've been on a tour with as many as 12 other people, and I've signed my name on a list of people who've seen an apartment that had 30 names on it. This can be daunting at first.

The visit to the apartment is not just for you to decide whether you want to live on the 6th floor of a building that smells like the cat food store on the ground floor, but also a legal obligation before one can move on to the next step. The next step is to visit the management agency (Régie or Gérances) which is the company that manages the apartment. There are probably a couple dozen agencies, with a handful being responsible for most of the business, so you will probably end up dealing with some more than once. This is unfortunate, because the agents are a bunch of real B-Ark middle management types who really couldn't be less helpful if they tried. After visiting an apartment, you have to go to the agency the next morning and "sign up" for the apartment (s'inscrire à l'appartement).

Why sign up? Here's where things get weird. Unlike Les Etats-Unis, which have come to terms with their racist past by pushing through mountains of legislation aimed at fighting discrimination, La Suisse doesn't seem to mind discriminating. Instead of accepting the first legitimate application, the agency will accept applications for an indeterminate length of time. How long? Who can say. I've seen ads go online in the morning, then I've visited in the evening, and by the next morning the Agency wouldn't accept my application as the apartment was already attribué. Clearly, a renter had been chosen ahead of time and the application process was a sham. Of course, no one will tell you this until you've hiked your butt over to the apartment and then the agency. On the other hand, I've seen apartments that were already emptied out and the agency insisted that they would wait at least 10 days for more applications.

Anyway, once they have all the applications, then they choose. They can choose whomever they want for whatever reason they want, so good luck to anyone with a foreign name. The application includes a photocopy of your passport, a copy of your residence permit, a copy of your contract showing your monthly salary, a document indicating that you already own renter's insurance on the apartment that you currently live in, and a special attestation de solvabilité from the government which attests to the fact that you do not have any outstanding debt in Switzerland. The work permit, the renter's insurance, and the attestation are exceedingly difficult to get (you need a residential mailing address to get any of them; the insanity of this Catch-22 fails to disturb anyone around here, though) but often an agency will kindly accept an application that is missing one of these things.

Then, when they start deciding on a winner, step one is to throw out all the applications that don't have all the appropriate papers and might cause the agency even the slightest potential inconvenience. Then they hand pick the person with the highest salary, most secure job, least kids and pets, and (I'm guessing here) the most local Swiss pedigree. Most Swiss people I've spoken with refuse to accept the possibility that some amount of racial and national discrimination might occur in their country, but, let's just say there isn't a Swiss name to be found on the mailboxes of the crappy, over-priced, furnished-studio-apartment building that I'm temporarily in right now.

A winner is ultimately selected and informed via a phone call; losers are informed through indifference. If you are selected, then you must agree to take the apartment or, if you don't want the apartment or you've found another, you must pay a fine to the agency of between 100 CHF and 300 CHF. This is an attempt to prevent you from applying to more than one apartment at a given time, and yet another way to keep the proletariat down. Since your odds of getting any single apartment, let alone two apartments, are ridiculously low, people ignore this and just fill out lots of applications. I have around 7 or 8 applications out now, of which 5 or 6 I've probably already lost out on.

Once you get an apartment, then you simply pay the security deposit (only three months rent, to be paid via a money order from the bank account that you can't get until you have a permanent address, again, with the money that you won't get until you've been working at least a couple months, etc.), buy renter's insurance if you don't already have it, buy fire insurance, and finally find a Swiss person to act as your guarantor and to sign the papers with you, kinda like getting your Mom's signature on a field trip permission slip in school. And ... voilà! You (and a few dozen other people this month) now have an apartment!

So, that's why I was viewing an apartment tonight. The apartment, by the way, was beautiful. Nice wood floors, a full size oven in a reasonably sized kitchen, and a beautiful view over the lake, too. All for a very reasonable price and in a pretty good location. So, after leaving the apartment, I checked my notepad to see which agency I will have to contact tomorrow morning and where they are located. The agency is "EPM Swiss Property Management" and, here's the pickle, I've already visited them once. And, not in a good way.

I visited the EPM offices last week to sign up for a nice apartment I'd just seen. As I'd done this a few times before, I thought I was well prepared. I filled out the form, leaving the parts about work permits, renter's insurance, and current address in Switzerland blank, and handed them along with a copy of my passport and a copy of my contract with EPFL to the woman at the counter. She looked at them for a while, and then asked me about my work permit. I explained to her that I had applied for it (saying it was "en cours") and that I couldn't finish the process until I had a permanent address. This explanation had satisfied the previous few agencies that I'd visited, but not her. She then started explaining to me that I needed to have a Swiss person apply with me as a guarantor. I asked her if she could explain to me in english why this was the case, she started, then gave up after about one sentence and continued in french. Then I asked her if she could speak more slowly. Basically, I had no idea what she was talking about. I kept saying "It was ok with the other agencies" over and over, and she kept shaking her head no. I asked her what I needed. She said something about getting a Swiss person to sign the form. As I considered this a fairly unreasonable request at this stage, I shrugged my shoulders in the universal sign of "WTF?" At which point she started saying something of which I understood nothing, so I shrugged my shoulders again and just turned around and walked away, leaving the offending application on her desk.

For those of you who think I was being childish, I want to point out that I'd already had a bad morning. I had just come from another agency, which was in a much nicer part of town and was pretty clearly not my type of people. When I asked to sign up for an apartment (which had been first listed the previous morning and which I saw with 10 other people the night before) I was told that it was already rented. Since the woman told me this without consulting any files, asking any of the agents, or even hesitating for a moment, I was left with the distinct impression of having been snubbed. It was a bad day for apartment hunting.

So, now, I desperately want to put in an application for this place, but I honestly don't think that I can show my face at EPM Swiss Property Management again. Or, at least, not without a genuine Swiss person in tow. I think I'll get someone French speaking to call ahead and ask what exactly is needed, then maybe I can fax in my application. My odds of getting the place are microscopic, but sometimes you just have to keep the shoulder to the grindstone and hope for the best.

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Future updates: more rock, less talk! To come: pictures and descriptions of my smelly furnished studio (I'd describe the odor as a cross between a million cigarettes and a bathroom full of Legionnaires' Disease); pictures and descriptions of my visit to the statue of Freddie Mercury; and some other random stuff.