Swiss Hip Hop Scene: Update!

To paraphrase Harry Doyle: this ain't the best blog about Lausanne hip hop for nothing. Want to know who the latest sensation on the Swiss hip hop scene is? Well, you came to the right place!

Now, most of you are probably rolling your eyes and saying, "Duh, this is just going to be an update about how Stress (my previous favorite swiss rapper -ed.) has a new album that just dropped on April 3 and how he is coming to Lausanne on the 30th for a concert." Wrong. This blog isn't about old info that you could find anywhere; this blog is about what is happening right now on the streets and what everyone will be talking about next. Wanna know who's next? One word: Sisma. (p.s. do not click on that link unless you actually like myspace pages).

Fig. 1: Proof that wearing a bandanna does not automatically make you cool.

Sisma is from the mean streets of Bellinzona, aka "B'Zone", population 17,111, in Ticino but has recently relocated to Lausanne, presumably in an effort to build up his street cred, something which was probably difficult to do in a town that is largely known for being home to a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Since he's from Ticino -- Switzerland's only Italian speaking Canton -- he raps in Italian, so I'm not sure how much success he'll find here in Lausanne. If you want to hear his music, here's a much better link where you can listen to some of his songs and learn a little about him.

How did I find out about him? Checking out all the underground hip hop clubs? Downloading mix tapes? Not so much. What happened was this: last night I was wandering around downtown Lausanne with my buddy Jens when we came across what looked like a music video shoot. As there was some professional looking lighting and even a professional looking fog machine, we thought it might have actually been a professional music video. A quick look at the roughly 3 people standing around watching it suggested, however, that whoever it was could not draw much of a crowd. I wandered over to one of the guys who looked like he might be attached to the project and asked him who the artist was. He gave me pretty much all of the information above and more, along with the promise that I would definitely see the video on MTV soon.

Although he was pretty enthusiastic about this point, I have to admit that it is unlikely this video will ever make it to a wide audience. First, as noted above, Sisma raps in Italian which really limits his potential market in Switzerland. Linguistically, Switzerland is pretty strongly divided and it's rare for an Italian musician to have success in the French or German parts or vice versa. Second, I think Switzerland has pretty much hit its limit of short, white, yelling rappers. Based on the few songs he has on myspace, the only differences between him and Stress are that he raps in Italian and has worse production. And finally, I don't think MTV will ever show a music video that is shot in the courtyard in front of the Ecole-Club Migros. I know there's a weird, futuristic sculpture there, but I think they could have done a better job scouting locations.

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For the most part, I have pretty much given up on reading "20 Minutes," one of the free daily newspapers in town. After a while, I got kinda tired of reading celebrity gossip, and more importantly, they stopped carrying Garfield and Dilbert. Thus, it was only by sheer luck that the other day I saw this picture on the cover:

Fig. 2: Does your garage rock band have a color scheme and matching outfits? I didn't think so.

The story (which can be found here) was about how a local Vaudois rock group had unfairly had their own songs removed from myspace by Warner Bros, due to some mistakenly directed anti-piracy measures. Pretty dull. What is not dull, though, is that I recognized one of the people in the picture! In the lower right corner, in the glasses and with the megaphone, is my French professor from last semester!

Easily my favorite of the French professors I've had here in Switzerland, Raphaël Noir is better known as Jerry Black, the lead singer of Climax. Climax is "the new garage mod sensation" or, better yet, the "prophète helvétique du garage rock." Pretty awesome. I have yet to hear them live, but the songs they had available online sounded promising and I will admit to having a weakness for any group that uses a megaphone as an instrument. They are performing in Lausanne at the end of May, so hopefully more news to come.

I fought the law and, I won!

One of the constant pleasures of living in Switzerland is receiving bills that just do not make any sense. For instance, when Christine mailed me an official "Google" jacket, along with some other small items, I had to pay a bribe of 55 CHF at the post office in order to pick up the package. Why? Well, customs had opened the box and determined that the jacket was worth 300 CHF (ha!), then charged me tax on that value (25 CHF) and a "customs fee" of 30 CHF for not properly declaring the item. Lame.

Although I have received countless packages from my parents without any customs costs (maybe because they ship to my work address), the same thing happened again when I ordered a pair of shoes online from England. After receiving the shoes (which were about 100 CHF), two weeks later I got a customs bill for 60 CHF. Not only did I pay tax and "customs fees", I also had to pay "administrative costs" and "commission." Super lame.

I could go on and on about some of these stupid things I've had to deal with (and trust me, if you're one of my labmates, you've heard me do it), but yesterday I got a bill that took the cake. It was a charge of 125 CHF for cable television service from October 31 to March 25. The only problem: not only did I not sign up for cable television, I don't even have a TV. What happened was that on March 25, I went down to CityCable (a sub-unit of Lausanne Services Industriels) and signed up for cable internet. When I signed up for internet, they found out that I had a cable outlet in my apartment that was -- gasp, shock -- unblocked since I moved in. Since it was not blocked, in theory I could have been receiving free cable television for the last couple months. Therefore, they decided to charge me retroactively.

This morning, I walked down to Services Industriels (convenienently located one block from my apartment) and I showed them the bill. Somewhat surprisingly, they knew exactly what the situation was without me saying anything (apparently, this happens all the time) and patiently explained that it was my responsibility to have the outlet blocked and that since I did not have that done when I moved in I had to pay. I then patiently explained that since I had signed nothing until March 25 that I would pay for exactly nothing. The woman told me it was totally impossible to cancel the bill and that I was legally bound, blah blah blah. I told her that it was indeed possible to cancel the bill and that I would wait until she talked to a supervisor. She then called up her supervisor, chatted briefly, then told me that the bill had been canceled.

This is my first victory against the Man since coming to Switzerland (no, I still don't have a dryer in my apartment and I don't even have a decent scheduled time to do laundry). Most satisfying, I managed the whole thing in French without resorting to cussing or exasperated sighing. It truly was a victory on many levels and a great way to start the day.

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Just so this post isn't a total snooze-fest, here's a couple of pictures from my trip to Grenoble last weekend. My buddy Rafael (previously mentioned on this blog) was in town for some physics-related reasons so I decided to visit. We did all sorts of outdoorsy things, including renting bicycles and biking to the Chartreuse Cellars in Voiron. Lots of fun.

Fig. 1: Loren and I hiking in the Vercors, near Grenoble, Rafael not pictured.

Fig. 2: Biking along the Isère toward Voiron.

Celebrity, Vaudois style.

Go watch this video on youtube. Try not to get TOTALLY PUMPED.

What you just saw was Red Bull's Crashed Ice, a four-person, downhill ice-skating race through a specially designed obstacle course in the middle of a city. Downhill racing and ice hockey. Seriously, it's like peanut butter and chocolate: I cannot believe that no one thought of this sooner. Previously, it has been held in Québec, Helsinki, Davos, and Duluth (?). This weekend, the 2009 season finished in Lausanne.

The course started at Place du Château (near where I used to live), came down Avenue de l'Universitie (right by an apartment that I was denied), and finished up at Place de la Riponne (next to another apartment denied to me). At Place de la Riponne, there was a huge, packed crowd of idiots pressed together watching a giant TV screen and cheering on the competitors at the finish. Jens (German), Jen's girlfriend, Ana (also German), and I were some of those idiots.

Fig. 1: There is not law against public drinking in Switzerland, so the savvy event attendee always comes prepared.

The time trials having been conducted on Friday, Saturday was the big finale. 16 heats of 4 racers, followed by 8 heats, 4 heats, etc. Of the 64 competitors, it seemed like about 40 were Swiss, maybe 6 were Finnish, and then there were a handful of Austrians, Germans, and one Swede. Although Jens and Ana wanted to root for the Germans, I decided to root for the Finns when possible. Not only are some of my good friends of Finnish ancestry, but I also have to admit to having a soft spot for Finnish athletes in general. Probably, this is due to the fact that Teemu Selanne is absolutely unstoppable in NHL 94 for the SNES.

We thought it was curious that the Finns were always the first seeds in each of the heats, but this fact became less and less curious as the Finns cruised to easy victories in the early rounds. Clearly, the Swiss competitors were local talent picked up to "fill out the card" and were not much of a match for the Finnish ringers.

Fig. 2: One of the competitors. I have no idea who he is, in particular, but he's pretty representative of just how badass the guys were.

The final race was between 3 Finns and the sole Swede, so I was pretty confident of a victory for the Suomi. Of course, it would be difficult: the aforementioned Swede was none other than 6-time Red Bull Crashed Ice world champion, Jasper Felder. Although he hadn't won a competition in a few years, he's a crafty veteran with a lot of experience. The race started off close, but a late slip-up by Artu Pihlainen opened up a lane which the opportunistic Felder did not miss. He cruised easily to his record-setting seventh Red Bull Crashed Ice championship. Truly amazing.

Fig. 3: Jasper Felder -- seven-time champion -- is like the Lance Armstrong of Crashed Ice. Except, he's actually likable. And he certainly isn't on any performance enhancing drugs. And also, he looks like a pirate.

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Vaud -- the canton which contains Lausanne -- only has about 670 thousand inhabitants. Thus, when one of them becomes famous, you tend to hear about it pretty often. The local newspapers cover every Stanislaus Wawrinka early-round exit; literally every minute that Thabo Sefalosha is on the court is recorded in detail; and it was the top story when Yverdon-les-Bains native Whitney Toyloy was crowned "Miss Schweiz."

The stars definitely came out to shine at Crashed Ice. As we were standing right next to the pathway between the VIP area and the television cameras, famous Swiss people would brush right by us on their way to softball interviews to kill the time between races. What kind of famous Swiss people, you ask? How about:

Fig. 4: Why, it's Stéphane Lambiel, two-time world champion and Olympic silver medalist in Men's Singles Figure skating.

Fig. 5: Hardcore Formula "Un" fans might recognize this young gentleman as Sébastien Buemi, the new pilot for Scuderia Toro Rosso.

I also saw some hockey player, a city administrator of some sort, and an Austrian television presenter. It was truly like living in a dream.

Lost and found

This morning when I arrived at work, there was a message on the phone from the Lausanne police informing me that my wallet had been turned in and that I could go pick it up from the Lost and Found office at my leisure. Not a bad way to start a day.

At lunchtime, I took the metro downtown and swung by the office. The clerk there had no idea how or by whom the wallet had been found or turned in, but was happy to give it to me when I presented my passport and a 5 CHF fee. From the looks of it, the wallet had suffered during its time away from me (it had clearly spent some time in the dirt), but was otherwise ok. The police apparently had separated the contents from the wallet, so I received a small rubberbanded stack of cards as well. A quick check through the cards revealed the following.

Items left in wallet:

• My CFF 1/2-price railway pass
  • Pretty much everyone in Switzerland already owns one of these, so I imagine it's not particularly valuable, although it does cost 150 CHF a year.
• My Mobilis transit pass
  • This gets me onto the subways and buses for free, but it is only a monthly pass and expires in less than a week. Thus, I'm guessing, it is not too valuable.
• My Lausanne Public Library card
  • I'm lucky to still have this one.
• My health insurance card
  • This one would have been mildly annoying to replace.
• My EPFL identification
  • I really wasn't looking forward to replacing this, so it was nice to get this back.
• My Budget Migros credit card
  • This is my Swiss credit card and I'm really surprised that this was still inside. It requires a PIN to use for most purchases, but I think what really threw off the thieves is that it looks a lot more like a customer reward card (which it is) than a credit card (which it also is).
• My Stanford Federal Credit Union debit card
  • Another surprise, but it was fairly deep inside the wallet and maybe tough to get at.
• My Coop Supercard
  • Another customer reward card, definitely not a prize.

Items removed from the wallet:

• One 100 CHF bill
  
• My United Mileage Plus credit card
  • No big surprise, this is in the front of my wallet and screams MONEY!
• My PostFinance bank card
  • This doesn't work as a credit card and is only useful for getting cash from an ATM, for which you need a PIN. Of course, I also need it to access my account online so until I get a replacement in the mail, I can't be sure that they didn't do any damage.
• My California driver license
  • This is the real bitch of all bitches. No doubt to stem the (fear of) hordes of illegal immigrants from driving legally, it is a royal pain in the neck to replace your license in the state of California. You have to physically present yourself (and your thumbprint) at the DMV along with another form of government issued identification. What someone over here would want with it is beyond me, unless of course they planned on using it as ID for use with one of the other stolen cards.
• A business card with my Dad's work phone number on it, probably out of date
• A business card from the restaurant "Madame Sans Gênes" in Paris, which I had had on my person (on and off) since I dined there in May, 2000
• A bus receipt from the Airport Shuttle that I took to Ferihegy Airport when I left Budapest in June, 2000

All in all, it could have been worse. In the end, I lost the 100 CHF I had in the wallet, 50 CHF to replace my PostFinance card, and 5 CHF to pick up the wallet. Even though I got some of my credit cards back, I'd already canceled all of them so I still had to cut them up. The loss of the driver license is really the worst part, as it truly cannot be replaced. I called the DMV today and they agreed to mail me "duplicate replacement" which is like a normal license, except it says "duplicate" or "copy" or something else suspicious on it, it doesn't have a picture on it, and it doesn't count as legal identification. As, in theory, I am supposed to apply for a Swiss license soon, I am hoping that this will be sufficient. Switzerland has a deal wherein you can present your foreign license and they will give you a Swiss license with nothing more than an eye test and a first-aid course, so I'm hoping this ersatz CA license will be enough. We shall see.

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Now an amusing endnote to this whole affair. Serge -- the Swiss guy who tried to kill me in France a few months ago -- upon hearing my story told me that the exact same thing had happened to him a few years ago in Geneva! Not exact, like someone stole his wallet, but exact, as in two people accosted him, one tried to get him to do the "Zizou dance", and the other one took his wallet while he was distracted. Unbelievable! Fortunately for Serge, though, he wasn't alone. And, in an even weirder turn, the guy he was with recognized what was going on as the exact same thing had happened to him before as well! He told Serge to look in the second guy's hand, and lo and behold, there was his wallet. Serge took his wallet back and the guys wandered off, claiming the whole thing was a joke, so it was no loss to him. Still, I wish that he had told me this story at some point in time as it really could have prevented a lot of drama.

So, my advice to travelers. First, do not come to Switzerland. It is nothing but a den of thieves (note the 50 CHF fee to replace my frigging bankcard) and roustabouts. If you spend any amount of time here, you will be accosted and you will be asked to do a Zidane dance, during which someone will attempt to lift your wallet. It is as inevitable as death, taxes, and Norv Turner leading the Chargers to Super Bowl glory. When it finally happens and someone comes up to you asking you to "dance like Zidane," you should immediately "make like Zidane" and head butt them as hard as you can in the chest. Maybe it'll teach the little punks a lesson.

The crime of the century!

Having been raised on the mean streets of Kearny Mesa, I pretty much assumed that I would not have too much trouble with the wannabe gangstas and street punks of peaceful Lausanne. Certainly, I've run into some rowdy drunks and been accosted by the occasional obnoxious transient, but nothing I couldn't handle. In fact, until last night, I can't think of a single time that I was even slightly worried about my person or my belongings. That was the night everything changed ...

First, the official police report of the incident (unfortunately in French). It is quite thorough.

Fig. 1: Just the facts, mainly. I note that there are a lot of facts that I was asked for that did not make the report, I have no idea what happened to those.

Fig. 2: The majority of the testimony. Although it is written in first person, I assure you that these are not my exact words. Still, it is quite illustrative.

For those of you that don't speak French, I offer my humble translation of the testimony below:

Yesterday evening, on Rue Genève, I happened to find myself in the presence of the two unknown individuals of whom I have given the above description. I cannot be more precise on that subject. We took the elevator together. During the ascent, one of the two grabbed me amicably by the arm and leg in an attempt to lead me in a dance. I did not resist because I thought that the youths had drunk too much and only wanted to play. In fact, shortly after their departure, I realized that the (stolen goods) which had been in the rear pocket of my pants had been stolen, most likely by the second individual. To respond to your question, I would not likely be able to recognize these men in a photograph.

Although this is my signed and sworn statement to the Lausanne Police, I have to admit that it misses a couple of interesting points. So, I guess I should start at the beginning.

Last night, I went to a bar down in Ouchy with my labmate, Jens. That in and of itself is another (less exciting) story, but the key point is that we left the bar around 11:00 or 11:30 and headed home, both of us having had very little to drink. At my subway stop, we parted ways and I began to walk home. As it was late on a Friday night and I was walking through the hip and happening part of town, there were a lot of people out. Due to the unusual topography of Lausanne, part of my route involved taking a public elevator. As the elevator is next to a McDonald's and other points of interest, I didn't find it unusual that two young men got on the elevator with me. They said bonsoir to me, and I replied bonsoir back. The elevator reached the top and I got out. One of the guys started talking to me in really bad French -- even worse than my French. I could barely understand what he was saying, but for the most part I assumed he was just drunk and being a little obnoxious.

Pretty soon, he just kept saying, "tu connais Zidane?" ("you know Zidane?") and I said, sure, of course I know who Zidane is. Then he kept repeating "Zidane" and then saying "dance". I had no idea what he was talking about. Eventually, he took my hand and stuck out his leg to hook mine, and he tried to dance me in a circle. I smiled, spun around in a circle once or twice, then let go of his hand and said good bye.

I thought it was an usual sort of thing, but honestly I didn't think anything of it. I got home, got ready for bed, and went to sleep. It wasn't until this morning that I woke up and realzied that my wallet was nowhere to be found. True, I could have lost it anywhere (it's not at the bar, I checked), but I am usually pretty good about wallet security. Further, my pants had a button on the pocket, so it would have been extra difficult for me to have randomly lost the wallet. Anyway, I figured that the most likely cause was that the two guys were in fact not drunk but rather well-coordinated thieves who used a simple distraction ploy to get my wallet.

Ultimately, what can you do? I assumed they were drunk and that the best approach was to humor them. Obviously, they weren't drunk and the best approach would have been to keep them from touching me. But, had they been drunk and I had been openly hostile to them, maybe they would have tried to start a fight. Kind of a lose/lose situation all around.

So, this afternoon I got to go to the Lausanne Police station and file a report. It took more than an hour and involved an unbelievable amount of questioning. First, the officer wanted to establish the location exactly. Which elevator? Where? Was it in the elevator that you first met them, or before you got in the elevator? Did the touching take place in the elevator or outside? I tried to be as detailed as I could, but it was tough. He was definitely disappointed that I could only give him the time to within an hour (I probably could have done better if I really thought about it, but what's the point?) and he was totally unhappy with my description of the perps. What could I say? They were average height, average weight, dark hair, and foreign with vaguely spanish accents. I have no idea what they were wearing or what color their eyes were, etc.

He also got a full history of my stay in Lausanne, the names of both of my parents, the countries of origin of both of my parents, my mother's maiden name, my place of birth, my passport number, and I am sure a full description of me. I am surprised he didn't fingerprint me, just to be safe. Forty minutes of questions, then about twenty minutes of him typing and clicking away on a computer, and finally my time was done. I got the above printout and I was assured that if my wallet was turned in, it would be returned to me.

Interestingly, while I was in the station, two other people came in to report that their wallets had been stolen last night in the area! The first was a young Swiss guy, and when he started explaining what happened, the officer cut him off and told him not to make a big deal. He said that since his Swiss ID was in the wallet, if it was found it would be returned to him and that the whole process would take at least a week. He convinced the guy that cancelling his current ID and ordering a new one was such an expensive and annoying process that it was best to wait a week and see what turned up. Of course, there was no need to fill out a police report but he should definitely go cancel his credit cards and contact his bank. The Swiss guy was in and out in two minutes.

Toward the end of my visit, a Romanian man came in complaining about having his wallet stolen. His French was horrible and his English was worse, so he didn't really get very far. When I left, the officer was just starting to try and talk to him, so I didn't get the details. Ultimately, though, I think it's clear that there was a genuine crime wave last night in the streets of Lausanne. I'm sure it'll make the papers tomorrow, so I'll keep you informed of the latest news as it becomes available.

One final note: I have no idea what the Zidane dance is. The internet was no help on this, so I guess it was just some nonsense he made up so he could grab my arm.

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.

Lausanne, vous êtes prêts à faire la fête?!

Probably the two most common questions people ask me about this blog are, "What can you tell me about the swiss hip-hop scene?" and "How are you, my little son?" Until this weekend, the answers to those questions were, "not much" and "I'm fine, Mom." Thankfully, this weekend I got my first taste of Suisse-Romande hip hop and it was not bad at all.

This weekend was Label Suisse, which in addition to being a clever pun was also a weekend-long party featuring dozens of free concerts in a handful of venues across Lausanne. The party was supposed to commemorate the opening of the new M2 metro line, but since that won't actually open for another month, Party-goers were forced to wait inline for a half-hour if they wanted a special "test ride" this weekend. At any rate, it was a huge deal and an estimated 300,000 people showed up for the excitement, and I was one of them. And, if that wasn't enough, meanwhlie the Comptoir Suisse -- sort of the Del Mar Fair of Lausanne -- was going on as well. Between that and waiting -- longingly -- at the train station, I had a full weekend. Here are some highlights, in no particular order.

The Comptoir Suisse was in many ways identical to a County Fair in the US. There were cows, there were pigs, there were machines that sliced and diced, and there was plenty of unhealthy food to go around (no Fried Twinkies, but really, how healthy is fondue?). For example, had I waited in line, I could have tried out the exciting "Cow Milking Simulator."'

Fig. 1: Yes, there was a line for this. No, I have no idea why.

One of the local cheeses here is called "Tete de moine," Monk's Head, and the way it's prepared is thus: the cheese comes in roughly head-shaped chunks and a special blade on a screw is used to cut little florettes. It's not my favorite Swiss cheese, but it was kinda fun to see someone dressed as a monk serving up free samples. By the way, this guy was straight-up stingy with the samples. I had to stand there with a hangdog look on my face for like 5 minutes before his carved me a florette. The things we do for free food..

Fig. 2: He's all smiles when he's giving samples to the little kids.

Let's face it, this blog is little more than an excuse to show pictures of baby farm animals, so I'll cut to the chase. Enjoy your piglets.

Fig. 3: OMG! They were even cuter in person, if that is even possible!

Finally, one part of the fair was truly spectacular. God knows why, but for some reason there was a fully functional bar/party scene at the fair. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon, there were literally hundreds of young people packed into this place. I would estimate that this photo represents the largest number of Swiss people wearing sombreros ever documented.

Fig. 4: Senor Frog's in Cancun at 3 AM, or Lausanne at 3 PM? You decide.

Enough about the fair; onto the music. I saw bits and pieces of a few of the concerts -- only 5 minutes of the death metal band Enhancer, unfortunately -- but the big deal was definitely Stress, the star of the Suisse-Romande hip-hop scene. He performed Sunday night before a crowd that absolutely filled the Place de la Riponne, no small feat. In case you're curious, the concerts ran through Sunday night since monday was a holiday in Vaud -- allegedly, it's the "National Day of Fasting," but we all know the real reason to celebrate September 22.

Admittedly, I am a sucker for live music and I am pretty much guaranteed to love anything loud and rocking, but I have to say that Stress put on a pretty darn good show. Although I had never heard of him, most of you undoubtedly have. Along with his good friend Nega, who performed with him Sunday, he was part of the rap duo "Double Pact" -- n.b. you are not pronouncing it right if you are saying it in English. Imagine it in the most French accent possible, and you've got it. Together, they've had a quite a few hit records and are probably the only Suisse-Romande rappers who are popular in the Swiss-German part of the country as well. For the concert, they brought a full band with them (drums, bass, guitar, samples) and the effect was great. Most rappers don't exactly shine in live concerts, but Stress wasn't too bad. I'd describe his style as halfway between Sage Francis and Linkin Park: some yelling, but generally pretty straight-forward and enjoyable.

Fig. 5: People let me tell you 'bout my best friend, he's a warm-hearted person who'll love me to the end.

Lyrically, I couldn't really tell you what the songs were about; they were all in French. Although my French is getting better every day, understanding rap lyrics is just a bit beyond me at this point. Here is a summary of what I did understand: one of the songs was about his cat, Gilbert, who died. It was a very sad song. The only English was when he did a couple of verses (in French) to the Kanye West song "Stronger," which struck me as a little ironic. The big hit of the night was his song about multiculturalism. He introduced it by talking about how looking into the audience gave him hope for the future of a multicultural Switzerland (I'm not sure how he got this, there were more multicultural people on stage -- 3 -- than I could see from where I was standing) and then he started rapping about naturalization. Or something like that. At any rate, the crowd really got going when he lead them in chants of "BLOCHER RAUS," which I thought was pretty cool.

During one of the slow numbers, he asked everyone to hold up their lighters or their cellphones. I tried to take a picture of this, because it was truly remarkable. EVERYONE here smokes. EVERYONE. That's the subject of a differnt, much more extended post, though.

Fig. 6: FREEEEEEEEEEEBIRD!

All in all, it was an awesome show. You can listen to almost all of the concerts and even see some videos here. For those of you who are on the fence about coming out here and visitng me, to paraphrase Slick Rick, this kind of stuff happens every day. Almost every weekend that I've been here there has been some sort of concert, festival, or event. For example: this weekend is La Nuit des Musées. All of the museums will be free and open late at night and will have special exhibits, including DJ's and other crazy stuff. I'm probably not going to be in town, but that's no big deal because I guarantee there will be something awesome next weekend, too. Ain't no party like a Vaudois party.

P.S. For those of you curious about what one must do to travel from Grenoble to Lausanne, I've made a handy checklist.

• Get on a train bound for Geneva.
• Bring your passport.
• Prepare to ROCK.

Unfortunately, Dr. Swenson could never check off more than two of those at any time and thus missed out on the excitement. Do not make the same mistakes!

Je vais à la bibliothèque

To prove that I have thoroughly infiltrated Swiss society, I have taken a picture of the various cards and such that have been issued to me sine my arrival.

Fig. 1: My wallet bulges with ... cards. After I've been earning the sweet post-doc coin for a while, hopefully it'll bulge with "Giacometti's" as well.

On the right are all the (Swiss) cards I use regularly and thus carry with me in my wallet. On the left is my brand new Residence Permit, type B. This document -- which I am legaly obligated to keep on my person at all times -- not only allows me to remain legally in this country until at least 31 July 2009, but it also represents the final piece of the legal puzzle here. Permit in hand, I can finally apply for a credit card, sign up for internet access, and most importantly, get a library card.

Yesterday after French class, I finally fulfilled the promise made by every first-year high school French student, and je suis allé à la bibliothèque. Specifically, I went to the Bibliothèque Municipale, conveniently located at Place Chauderon, in the heart of Lausanne. Size-wise, it's not the biggest library I've ever seen (it's a bit larger than the Linda Vista library), but it does have a number of compelling features.

First, it's free. Those of you who know me well will think that I'm being a cheapskate; but, you will be forced to admit that when it comes to books, I tend to buy, buy, buy. Used books, at least. This is tough to do here in Switzerland, since books are ridiculously expensive. New paperbacks are around 15 - 25 CHF, and new hardbacks can be anywhere from 40 - 100 CHF. Although there are used bookstores everywhere, they don't typically have vastly lower prices. One had a "everything 3 CHF" bin out front for a while, and I bought a pocket paperback from a drugstore for 2 CHF once, but for the most part, used books here are not the steal that they are at Feldman's Books (Menlo Park, represent) or Moe's Books in Berkeley. Also, I live in a room smaller than most prison cells, so I try not to accumulate too much -- I only own one fork.

Second, it's open late -- ten o'clock on weekdays! As I have commented on frequently, it's rare to find anything open after seven at night, so it's nice to know there's somewhere I can go kill some time if I want to go for a walk.

And most importantly, they have a healthy selection of comic books, or BD -- bandes dessinées. When I first got here, I was really excited to go buy some of those famous French comic books that I'd heard so much about: Asterix, Tintin, etc. There are comic book stores all over the place (I can think of at least 3), but unfortunately they don't really resemble the comic book stores of my youth. There are no piles of boxes, barely arranged into aisles; no racks of unorganized new arrivals, not even protected by bags; and there are no surly, pony-tailed nerds waiting for you at the cash register. Instead, there are bright lights, big display cases, and relatively normal looking employees. They can afford to be this clean and hip, since a single comic book will set you back a small fortune (around 18 CHF). Of course, the books aren't printed on newsprint and bound in slightly thicker newsprint, as they are in the US; instead, they are glossy, full-color, gorgeous hardback novels. They're only 40 page novels, but who's counting?

At any rate, the Bibliothèque Municipale has beaucoup de BD, and once I got my residence permit, I went over to pick a couple up. One of my labmates, who knows about this kind of thing, suggested that I start with Lincoln, which is a western-superhero sort of comic. I read it last night, then when I had internet access this morning, I looked up all the swear words I didn't understand and I think I'll try to read it again tonight. It's a little too hip and cool for me to understand entirely, but it's amusing enough and I'll almost certainly pick up the next few books in the set when I have the chance.

Fig. 2: Learning French is easy with the King. Just TCB.

On a whim, I also picked up this other BD, pictured above. I only read through a bit of it, though, as it was hard to follow. For some reason that is not entirely clear to me, there is a lengthy sub-plot involving Elvis's still-born twin brother being interviewed, presumably in the afterlife. I kinda wish I was making that up. Anyway, we'll see how it goes.

Had I an AK, today was the type of day during which I might have had to use it

Today was a bad day. Bad, bad, bad. In just about every way that a day can be a failure, today was a failure. Normally, I wouldn't want to bore my beloved readers with the sordid details, but I think that this blog has taken on an unrealistically upbeat and optimistic tone. I don't want the reader to get the mistaken impression that, as the Hungarians might say, life here is sour cream all the way to the bottom, but that, in fact, some rain does fall (metaphorically) here in Lausanne. So, a brief rundown of the vacuum of suck that was today.

First, I woke up in a great mood. That should have been a worrisome sign as I usually have to drag myself out of bed, but instead I skipped out of my apartment at 8:30 with a smile on my face and a belly full of coffee. The first thing I checked when I got to work was the score of yesterday's Chargers' game. Eight and a half point favorites against an undermanned Carolina team; I had every reason to hope that the Chargers would give me a pleasant start to the day.

Of course, they managed to lose on the very last play of the game. Great. Not only does the loss make me slightly unhappy, but it also means that I can't read any football websites this week for fear that they'll pour salt on the wound. It's only fun to read sports when your team is winning. So, five minutes into my work day, things are already not going well.

Settling down to work did not improve my mood. My current task involves doing two things: purchasing an expensive piece of equipment and designing some parts to make it do what we want. The company I want to buy the equipment from is a real penny-ante operation in England that has become a giant pain in my butt. They want 30% of the payment price up front (a whopping $20,000, or so), which of course is not something that Universities typically do, so we've been trying to make special arrangements to get them their money early. Friday, they told me that the arrangements we had carefully planned were no good and that we'd have to do better. This puts me in the uncomfortable position of actually having to negotiate, something which I haven't done much of since the 1994 San Diego Comic Con. I had to write them a classic, "well, if that's they way it is, I guess we'll have to take our business elsewhere" email, and now I have to wait. If they don't blink, I have to start looking for another company, which is difficult since the only other offers I got were almost twice what the Brits wanted. Sucks. Oh, and the 3-D design program I've been using (SolidWorks 2008) is a flaming turd. If you're at all familiar with SolidWorks 2000 (which I know many of you are), then let me describe the "new" version. It's slower, it has even worse laid out menus and toolbars, it is even more awkward to make drawings, and it straight-up reboots your computer at random every hour or so. Sometimes it does this literally as you are clicking on the "save" button, thus resulting in a barrage of swear words and a forced trip to the water fountain to cool down.

Finally, this evening I had a date to visit an apartment. This is roughly the 30th apartment I have visited (not an exaggeration), so it's getting a little routine. I called up the agency last Monday, was told to visit today at 6pm the following Monday, made a note in my "apartment search" spreadsheet, and didn't think of it again until this afternoon. I took the bus to the apartment, knocked on the door, and was greeted by the current tenant who informed me that the "open house" was last Tuesday and that the agency had told her that there were more than enough applicants by Wednesday afternoon and that they weren't accepting anymore. It would have been amusing or infuriating if this were the first or second time that I'd been misled by one of the agencies, but this is probably the 10th time I've gotten incorrect information which has led me to waste an hour or two of my life. At this point, it is just depressing.

Fortunately, when I got home, Basil was waiting for me and looking better than ever. I think he's getting a little big for his current pot, so I will try to get him a newer, bigger place. I think we could both use a bigger place. Here is a picture I took a couple days ago of him, he's changed a lot since then, personality-wise, but his appearance is still roughly the same.

Fig. 1: My vast new domain. During the day, Basil gets to sit on the windowsill.

Just so both of my readers don't go calling the suicide help line all at once, I want to end this by saying that I am in a much better mood tonight. Lately, I've become a deeply religious (in an ancient-Greek sort of way after finishing Herodotus's Histories) person and I've decided to start checking auspices and auguries whenever possible. As I don't know how to properly read the flight of birds, I instead just look for encouraging signs wherever I can find them. Below, I offer what I consider to be an excellent omen of things to come. Also, eating it made me pretty happy, too.

Fig. 2: This egg and I have a lot in common: same birthday, same basic shape, same delicious interior.

The first rule of Ecole-Club Migros is: do not talk about Ecole-Club Migros!

It may come as a surprise to some of you, but I really don't get a lot of opportunities to speak French on a daily basis. In the morning, I say pardon a few times as I bump into people on the subway, and at lunch time I say merci to the women at the cash register when I buy my coffee. The only person with whom I interact on a regular basis in French is my apartment manager, Madame Delessert, and that's only every week or so. I've learned lots of Vaudois French from her (she says ça joue? constantly), but I hunger to learn more.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Switzerland, go to Migros. I signed up for a French course that meets once a week for two hours at the "Ecole-Club Migros" in Lausanne. I had to take a test online to determine my placement level (it goes A1,A2,B1,B2,C1,C2) and it put me square in the middle of level B1. I looked at the description of level B1 and was immediately intimidated. I figured that the online test only measured my reading skills, which are relatively good, and not my listening skills, which are awful. So, I wimped out and signed up for A2.

It's hard to say what I was expecting. I guess in my heart, I was hoping for something similar to the French class that David Sedaris takes in "Me Talk Pretty One Day" -- read it if you haven't, it's hilarious. Or, at least I was hoping to have an enjoyable diversion in the evening and maybe make some non-scientist friends. Who knows. I figured I didn't have anything to lose.

Tonight was the first night of class, and, not to put too fine a point on it, it sucked. First: it was immediately clear that I was in the wrong class. The first thing we did was read the "objectives of the course" and they set such high goals as "understanding isolated phrases" and "being understood while doing simple tasks that require only simple responses." Of course, I note, in order to sign up for this class, someone called me up on the phone to confirm my online enrollment. Since she only spoke french, I had to understand "isolated phrases" of what she said, and I couldn't have completed the enrollment without "being understood while doing simple tasks that require only simple responses." Somehow, this didn't seem strange to anyone.

My classmates seemed nice enough, if a bit quiet. There were six of us in class; me and five women. Three of them were 20 year old au pairs from the German-speaking parts of Switzerland; one was a Swedish biologist working at the local hospital; and the last was a Japanese woman who described herself as a "business woman." I note that she was the last to arrive, and upon seeing that there was an open seat next to me that would have been the "polite" seat to take, she made a move for it then looked at me, and took the next seat over. It was like high school all over again.

The teacher was nice enough, as well, but I am not sure if she has ever taught anything before in her life. Roughly 90% of class time was spent in "awkward silence" in which she would ask a question to no one in particular and then wait for someone to provide an answer. I don't know about you, but I got pretty tired of being "that guy" who would just say the (obvious) answer just to get things moving along. It was clear to me early on that I was in the wrong class, so I tried my hardest not to spoil it for other people. At any rate, an experienced teacher would have avoided the problem entirely.

She had a lot of other habits that made me think she hadn't really put a lot of thought into the class, but maybe I'm holding her to too high a standard. All of my previous language teachers -- dating back to high school -- were either really interesting (Mari, my near suicidal Hungarian teacher in Budapest), really smart (Monsieur Schmidt, who was wasted on high school kids), or really engaging (Professoressa Magistro at Scripps, one of my favorite profs of all time). My Ecole-Club Migros teacher didn't seem to be either of the three. So, when towards the end of class she couldn't figure out how to hit the "pause" button on the CD player (she kept hitting "stop" instead), I knew that I was not long for her class. I'll call up tomorrow morning and beg them to let me switch to a higher level, we'll see how successful I am at being understood at that simple task. I hope it requires only simple responses.

Finally, here's a picture of the cover of our textbook. I want you to appreciate the quality and craftsmanship of the photo they chose. It must have taken the photographer hours to set up the shot properly, wait for the appropriate lighting conditions, wait for some weird guy with bleached hair and no socks to enter the shot, and then frame it perfectly so that you can see the grease spot on the ground. Brilliant.

Fig. 1: Who is more foolish? The fool who takes a bad picture, or the fool who takes a bad picture of that bad picture?

Postscript: If I were teaching an English course at Ecole-Club Migros, it would be awesome. I would focus on the skills people need to survive on the streets. Here is my proposed lesson plan:

Week 1. Greetings ("Odelay, vato. Qué tal?")
Week 2. Useful swear words ("What is this crap?")
Week 3. Things that go inside burritos
Week 4. Words that rhyme with "party" and "club", and how to write a pop-rap crossover hit
Week 5. Wu-Tang lyrics for every occasion

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.

Ten Unexpectedly Good Things about Switzerland

In an effort to keep this blog from devolving into an extended rant, I've decided to post something that focuses (almost) entirely on positive things. It seems like 90% of the stuff I talk about with my labmates is "back in the US, it's better because ..." which, I hate to say, is true about a lot of things around here. For instance, there is absolutely nowhere to get a burrito on campus. Terrifying, I know.

That complaint out of the way, here is a list of ten things (in no particular order) that I've found to be pretty cool about the country, despite it being a horrible, desolate, burrito-less wasteland.

1. Yogurt

Fig. 1: It's healthy, because it's yogurt.

Yogurt here is fricking awesome. I'm really not a big yogurt fan back home, but here, I enjoy almost a cup of yogurt a day. Why? I guess the answer is simple: the yogurt here is "full fat," i.e. it's not specifically aimed at dieting secretaries. Thus, they don't need to add gelatin to thicken it -- which is a plus for all of us who don't really enjoy eating the ground up cartilage of felled animals -- and it just tastes great. Also, the fancy brand (which costs 1.05 CHF versus 0.65 for the store brand) comes in exciting flavors like stracciatella, aka chocolate chip. It has to be tried to be believed.

2. Migros

Fig. 2: A sampling of the M-Budget products in my apartment.

Migros is one of the national grocery store chains. Practically a religion around here, most Swiss people seem to have a nearly irrational love for the company. You can have a Migros bank account, a Migros cell phone, take English classes at a Migros school, fill your car up at a Migros gas station, and then play around of golf on a Migros golf course. For me, and other people of limited financial means, the chief attraction of the stores is their discount product line, M-Budget. For everything from milk and eggs to soap, deodarant and dog food, Migros budget delivers huge savings.

3. Thunderstorms

I'd certainly heard of thunderstorms before, but I've probably only experienced a few in my entire life. When I think of storms, I think of: horrible, all day rains that make it impossible to do anything fun at all. Here, though, summer thunderstorms float across the lake in the evening time, dump a bunch of water and about 100 lightning strikes all within about 20 minutes. It's pretty fun to watch, as long as you're indoors.

4. Stairways

Fig. 3: Part of my route home every day.

Since the city is built on a bunch of hills, it is loaded with really quaint, old-timey staircases. They're cool enough that it almost makes you forget that you're constantly schlepping up and down hills if you want to get anywhere.

5. Outdoor events

Fig. 4: Even "India Jones et le Royaume du Crâne Crystal" couldn't be that bad if you saw it here.

People really relish the summer weather while it lasts, so there are plenty of outdoor activities all summer long. A couple weeks ago, I went to see WALL-E on a giant, outdoor screen. They gave out free ice cream during the intermission, and bottles of water at the end. It was a great movie (even in French) and a great crowd. Definitely one of my favorite experiences, so far.

6. Markets

Fig. 5: The central market: the place to see and be seen.

There are flea markets, farmers markets, "unemployed persons" markets (le marché des chômeurs), and artisans markets. Although the prices aren't particularly great, they are -- as one of my labmates put it -- "an important place for socializing."

7. Department store cafeterias

Fig. 6: View over the lake from the Coop City terrace.

The three major department stores downtown (Coop City, Manor, and Globus) all have cafeterias on the top floor where you can buy over-priced prepared food. Or, you can buy a coffee (reasonably priced) and sit on the terraces that all have beautiful views of the city.

8. Total lack of concern for public safety

Fig. 7: This play area is called "The Strangulator"

Fig. 8: Having jumped off of the diving board myself (not the high dive) I can assure you that the water is no deeper than 6 or 7 feet.

Fig. 9: A playground in Geneva made entirely of donated used bicycle tires. This is a concept which is obviously way too much fun to exist in the US. Serge's nephew is the one in the red hat.

Children's playgrounds around here are unbelievable. Every time you see one, the first thought that comes to mind is, "My goodness, that's a lawsuit waiting to happen."

9. Public water fountains

Fig 9: One of the many fountains within a block or two of my apartment.

They're all over the city, and some are very cool. I guess if you are surrounded by rivers and lakes, water doesn't have to be conserved in quite the same way as if you live in a desert.

10. Free newspapers

Fig. 10: Another scoop for 20 Minutes.

Every morning, I get to choose between Le Matin Bleu and 20 Minutes, the two free newspapers that are available all over town. The 15 minute metro ride from downtown to EPFL is just enough time to read about the latest pregnant starlet, yesterday's Swiss soccer league results (I've decided that my favorite team is "Young Boys"), and other important things. Also, you can read Garfield in French -- il déteste les lundis et il aime beaucoup les lasagnes!