August 23, 2005
First day
My first day at Redken was quite eventful. I got to meet the entire team including sales force in a day long team meeting. As it was the last official meeting of my predecessor, to celebrate his departure and my welcome we all went to a nearby go-kart racing track and took turns displaying our speeding skills!
August 21, 2005
Binii & Sri Lanka
Two days in the Valais began with me missing my bus stop and taking a scenic tour of the surrounding villages before arriving at my destination one hour later than planned. But besides that slight glitch in the proceedings these past two days have been very relaxing; three girls intent on getting “back to nature” aided by Snacketti crisps, chocolate and cigarettes. Beautiful.
On my way back to civilisation, I was invited to an authentic Tamil lunch which was absolutely delicious. But the funny thing was, the hosts ate with knife and fork whilst the guests (including me) tried our hands at eating with our right hand only.
On my way back to civilisation, I was invited to an authentic Tamil lunch which was absolutely delicious. But the funny thing was, the hosts ate with knife and fork whilst the guests (including me) tried our hands at eating with our right hand only.
August 16, 2005
Changes
A, sweet A, has broken up with her boyfriend of eight years. Love at first sight can come true after all, even after an eight year relationship.
I was sure that she and her ex would eventually marry, have kids and live happily ever after. But lo and behold, a knight in shining armour (or on a shining bicycle) cycled into her life two months ago and struck a chord. She put it quite beautifully: “I knew that if I were to stay with my ex I would need to forget this new guy. It was then I realised, that I did not want to forget him.”
I was sure that she and her ex would eventually marry, have kids and live happily ever after. But lo and behold, a knight in shining armour (or on a shining bicycle) cycled into her life two months ago and struck a chord. She put it quite beautifully: “I knew that if I were to stay with my ex I would need to forget this new guy. It was then I realised, that I did not want to forget him.”
Luxury of doing nothing
I am supposed to be finalising (or finally beginning would be more accurate) a ppt presentation of my diploma report, but today I gave in to the luxury of procrastination. My excuse was that my computer was in need of intense defragmentation, therefore I spent the afternoon pretending to read trashy girly novels whilst keeping half an eye on my lovable “hunk of junk”.
Vienna was beautiful, the coffee fantastic and the Sachertorte absolute luxury. Mum and I are equally immune to the “Japanese-tourist-syndrome” which means that we gave the typical Wiener schnitzel and other delicacies a miss (well, ok, besides the Sachertorte obviously) and instead gorged ourselves on sushi and imaginative breakfasts at weird hours (the bar at the MuMAK is highly recommendable).
Vienna was beautiful, the coffee fantastic and the Sachertorte absolute luxury. Mum and I are equally immune to the “Japanese-tourist-syndrome” which means that we gave the typical Wiener schnitzel and other delicacies a miss (well, ok, besides the Sachertorte obviously) and instead gorged ourselves on sushi and imaginative breakfasts at weird hours (the bar at the MuMAK is highly recommendable).
August 13, 2005
Darkness
To celebrate our 6th year anniversary I decided to test my boyfriend’s trust and lead him into darkness... which meant that I invited him to the Blinde Kuh. This restaurant (“blind cow”) is held in complete darkness (we’re talking pitch black) and staffed by blind waiters. To answer the inevitable question: no, the cooks are not blind and the food is pretty good.
On arrival we were asked to lock away all cell phones, watches, bracelets, jewelry, etc. anything that could or would give off light. The menu of the week was displayed on the wall in the foyer and we were told that we should choose beforehand to be able to place our order inside. After having mentally selected from the menu, we gave the sign that we were ready to enter the restaurant. Our waiter of the evening appeared and along with three other guests we formed a conga line. First he led us to a section which was slightly darker to let our eyes adjust, then, exited and not a little apprehensive, we were led into the pitch black. It was a weird feeling being unable to recognize anything at all, not even a shadow. We were led to our seats and when the waiter brought our order he told us exactly where he had put the drink / dish. I liked the way the waiter took his time to make sure that every guest was comfortable and reassured. At first I was quite alarmed, my heartbeat quickened and my breathing grew shallow. I do sometimes suffer from a slight claustrophobia. But having settled down and gotten used to the darkness, a strange sense of timelessness crept over me. I became very relaxed and still. It was as if a soft blanket was enveloping me, evoking a sense of safety and security. Not even the shrill voices of housewives discussing the sex life of a friend could disturb this lovely feeling. (I must admit, their conversation was at times quite amusing.) It is funny how darkness can make one lose one’s inhibitions. Dinner itself was quite good, but my table manners were completely lacking. I tried to eat with the cutlery, but gave up after deciding that finger food is by far my preferred mode of eating. All senses were sharpened and just touching the warm items was quite thrilling. Every sip I took and every bite I ate tickled my taste buds, making this an unforgettable culinary experience. When it came to dessert, I was just raring for a food fight. But reason triumphed over childishness and I ate my cinnamon ice-cream dutifully, savoring every little bit.
Relying on my hearing in the darkness, I could fully appreciate the beauty of Manuel’s voice. I have always been extremely sensitive about the sound of people’s voices and cannot stand shrillness. But I was glad to get out of the darkness after the meal. That was what made this experience so enjoyable, the knowledge that one’s time in darkness was limited and could be controlled at will. On the whole a highly recommendable experience for all looking for an extraordinary meal!
On arrival we were asked to lock away all cell phones, watches, bracelets, jewelry, etc. anything that could or would give off light. The menu of the week was displayed on the wall in the foyer and we were told that we should choose beforehand to be able to place our order inside. After having mentally selected from the menu, we gave the sign that we were ready to enter the restaurant. Our waiter of the evening appeared and along with three other guests we formed a conga line. First he led us to a section which was slightly darker to let our eyes adjust, then, exited and not a little apprehensive, we were led into the pitch black. It was a weird feeling being unable to recognize anything at all, not even a shadow. We were led to our seats and when the waiter brought our order he told us exactly where he had put the drink / dish. I liked the way the waiter took his time to make sure that every guest was comfortable and reassured. At first I was quite alarmed, my heartbeat quickened and my breathing grew shallow. I do sometimes suffer from a slight claustrophobia. But having settled down and gotten used to the darkness, a strange sense of timelessness crept over me. I became very relaxed and still. It was as if a soft blanket was enveloping me, evoking a sense of safety and security. Not even the shrill voices of housewives discussing the sex life of a friend could disturb this lovely feeling. (I must admit, their conversation was at times quite amusing.) It is funny how darkness can make one lose one’s inhibitions. Dinner itself was quite good, but my table manners were completely lacking. I tried to eat with the cutlery, but gave up after deciding that finger food is by far my preferred mode of eating. All senses were sharpened and just touching the warm items was quite thrilling. Every sip I took and every bite I ate tickled my taste buds, making this an unforgettable culinary experience. When it came to dessert, I was just raring for a food fight. But reason triumphed over childishness and I ate my cinnamon ice-cream dutifully, savoring every little bit.
Relying on my hearing in the darkness, I could fully appreciate the beauty of Manuel’s voice. I have always been extremely sensitive about the sound of people’s voices and cannot stand shrillness. But I was glad to get out of the darkness after the meal. That was what made this experience so enjoyable, the knowledge that one’s time in darkness was limited and could be controlled at will. On the whole a highly recommendable experience for all looking for an extraordinary meal!
August 12, 2005
Posh Porn
Just finished an extremely interesting (and not unduly thought provoking) book: The Diary of a Nymphomaniac by a prostitute called Valerie Tasso. It is interesting to note that suddenly many women have taken to writing, with what one can only describe as complete and utter candor, about their sex lives.
According to the Telegraph (English newspaper), Belle de Jour, a 20-something, who claims to be a working prostitute, has been writing a hugely entertaining weblog since last year. It was so successful that she published a book - guess what I'll be reading next!
According to the Telegraph (English newspaper), Belle de Jour, a 20-something, who claims to be a working prostitute, has been writing a hugely entertaining weblog since last year. It was so successful that she published a book - guess what I'll be reading next!
Tomorrow
Tomorrow I will finally be sitting in a plane again, experiencing the rush of adrenalin & fear at the take-off and landing. Mum was so kind as to invite me on a 3 day trip to one of Europe’s beautiful cities: Vienna. What is more, she has booked us into a “design” hotel! The pics look quite stylish - absolutely fantastic for a hotel-adorer like me.
August 11, 2005
memory lane
Wow, I cannot believe today is our 6-year anniversary.
M, let me take you down memory lane:
8 years ago I was cursing my luck when the most conceited blond smiley-boy joined our class in the Wirtschaftsgymnasium. I remember he sat behind me, next to A, as they knew each other from secondary school. I got him into trouble in his first English lesson by suggesting he give a smart answer to our military-minded teacher. Stupidly he did. Yes, I can be mean and I did not like him. His arrogant manner, the way he started hanging around with the people I liked, that he always needed to be centre of attention, his clothes, the colour of his hair, the way he walked, just everything made me wish he had not come into my life. When M (another classmate) and I decided to initiate special days (suit-day, blue hair day, etc.) he was the first to comment negatively. But surprise, surprise, he did turn up in a suit and agreed to put blue gunk on his hair.
He really brought out the worst in me: I remember trying to throw a wet sponge in his face during lesson time. I cannot remember the full turn of events, only that he sat behind me and for some reason pissed me off. Hot headed as I was, I stood up in the middle of the maths lesson and strode towards the blackboard. There I picked up the wet sponge, turned around and walked back to my place. I cannot remember if I threw the sponge at that point, or if M had jumped out of his seat and had moved away. The next memory I have is of me standing in front of the maths teacher with the sponge, trying to get a good aim at M who was hiding BEHIND the teacher. WHAT the teacher must have thought is beyond me! Anyway, I was sent from the room for “unruly conduct”. Good thing too, I guess.
But the idiot always used to take any opportunity to put my back up: I used to visit C at the Freies Gymnasium during her lunch hour on Fridays and of course came back stoned out of my mind. He was the one who got the WHOLE class singing “En Haifisch, en Haifisch, das isch en Fisch wo high isch”. Every Friday I would have to listen to a choir of young halfwits singing that song. Thankfully the weed was of very good quality.
I will never forget the first time he called me. At that time I used to hold regular telephone marathons with two classmates. But anyway, in those days we did not have ISDN so when M introduced himself I nearly dropped the phone in shock. I was so taken aback that I forgot to be polite and asked him straight out: “why on earth are you calling me?!”
But we chatted, I was civil, unsure if his calling was some elaborate trick of his mates. Somehow we started to get on and very soon after I found out that he was a Jehovah’s Witness. My interest in him increased tenfold! Conversations on “the meaning of life” and “God” were my favourite at that time. So I began to pick his brains on the Bible, the holy trinity, no sex before marriage, etc. Our telephone conversations became longer but I remained unsure if I liked him, as he still acted as if he was God’s gift to mankind.
He turned 18 and inherited a little Polo car from his brother. Our telephone conversations gave way to regular (almost daily) night time visits during which we talked until the wee hours of the morning. I believe many discussions were about my heavy consumption of illegal substances which he could and did not want to accept. Our feelings for each other were growing, but this budding relationship was further hampered by his baptism as a JW. Besides disapproving of smoking in general, the JW do not encourage relationships with people outside their religion. Cue a hard time for both of us, during which we maintained the status “just good friends”.
Fast forward to August 11, 1999, the day of the total solar eclipse. A few classmates & I had decided to drive up to a field in France somewhere to witness the spectacle. It was just after the summer holidays and M had been to America. He used to go on about me wearing flared trousers (I was a regular little hippie – sort of flower girl meets Dracula type of gal) and I positively HATED the clothes that he wore (disgusting fleece jackets and sensible tapered brown jeans - Mummy's choice). So imagine my pleasure when the boys came to pick me up and he stepped from the bus in absolutely gorgeous black flares! Apart from really liking those trousers (yes, I know) I interpreted his change of style as a sign that he really did like me.
Actually our getting together is not romantic at all. It was, so to speak, a third-party decision. After having “lost” the rest of the class at the Grün 99 (a class trip where we sort of forgot that we were with the class), some stunts where we went walking in the 9 o’clock break and came back one HOUR later claiming that we had not heard the bell (so embarrassing) or sitting in front of the classroom talking whilst the others were inside having a lesson, the others had finally tired of our repeated “no we are not together” and decided that as of that day we were.
A week or so later, tragedy hit my life when a good friend got hit by a drunk driver and died. My world came crashing down, leaving me reeling. C and M both helped me through those dark weeks, even though they intensely disliked each other (and still do, although both have grudgingly come to accept the other’s presence in my life). It was during that phase that M really established himself as someone I could lean on and I began to trust him.
M, let me take you down memory lane:
8 years ago I was cursing my luck when the most conceited blond smiley-boy joined our class in the Wirtschaftsgymnasium. I remember he sat behind me, next to A, as they knew each other from secondary school. I got him into trouble in his first English lesson by suggesting he give a smart answer to our military-minded teacher. Stupidly he did. Yes, I can be mean and I did not like him. His arrogant manner, the way he started hanging around with the people I liked, that he always needed to be centre of attention, his clothes, the colour of his hair, the way he walked, just everything made me wish he had not come into my life. When M (another classmate) and I decided to initiate special days (suit-day, blue hair day, etc.) he was the first to comment negatively. But surprise, surprise, he did turn up in a suit and agreed to put blue gunk on his hair.
He really brought out the worst in me: I remember trying to throw a wet sponge in his face during lesson time. I cannot remember the full turn of events, only that he sat behind me and for some reason pissed me off. Hot headed as I was, I stood up in the middle of the maths lesson and strode towards the blackboard. There I picked up the wet sponge, turned around and walked back to my place. I cannot remember if I threw the sponge at that point, or if M had jumped out of his seat and had moved away. The next memory I have is of me standing in front of the maths teacher with the sponge, trying to get a good aim at M who was hiding BEHIND the teacher. WHAT the teacher must have thought is beyond me! Anyway, I was sent from the room for “unruly conduct”. Good thing too, I guess.
But the idiot always used to take any opportunity to put my back up: I used to visit C at the Freies Gymnasium during her lunch hour on Fridays and of course came back stoned out of my mind. He was the one who got the WHOLE class singing “En Haifisch, en Haifisch, das isch en Fisch wo high isch”. Every Friday I would have to listen to a choir of young halfwits singing that song. Thankfully the weed was of very good quality.
I will never forget the first time he called me. At that time I used to hold regular telephone marathons with two classmates. But anyway, in those days we did not have ISDN so when M introduced himself I nearly dropped the phone in shock. I was so taken aback that I forgot to be polite and asked him straight out: “why on earth are you calling me?!”
But we chatted, I was civil, unsure if his calling was some elaborate trick of his mates. Somehow we started to get on and very soon after I found out that he was a Jehovah’s Witness. My interest in him increased tenfold! Conversations on “the meaning of life” and “God” were my favourite at that time. So I began to pick his brains on the Bible, the holy trinity, no sex before marriage, etc. Our telephone conversations became longer but I remained unsure if I liked him, as he still acted as if he was God’s gift to mankind.
He turned 18 and inherited a little Polo car from his brother. Our telephone conversations gave way to regular (almost daily) night time visits during which we talked until the wee hours of the morning. I believe many discussions were about my heavy consumption of illegal substances which he could and did not want to accept. Our feelings for each other were growing, but this budding relationship was further hampered by his baptism as a JW. Besides disapproving of smoking in general, the JW do not encourage relationships with people outside their religion. Cue a hard time for both of us, during which we maintained the status “just good friends”.
Fast forward to August 11, 1999, the day of the total solar eclipse. A few classmates & I had decided to drive up to a field in France somewhere to witness the spectacle. It was just after the summer holidays and M had been to America. He used to go on about me wearing flared trousers (I was a regular little hippie – sort of flower girl meets Dracula type of gal) and I positively HATED the clothes that he wore (disgusting fleece jackets and sensible tapered brown jeans - Mummy's choice). So imagine my pleasure when the boys came to pick me up and he stepped from the bus in absolutely gorgeous black flares! Apart from really liking those trousers (yes, I know) I interpreted his change of style as a sign that he really did like me.
Actually our getting together is not romantic at all. It was, so to speak, a third-party decision. After having “lost” the rest of the class at the Grün 99 (a class trip where we sort of forgot that we were with the class), some stunts where we went walking in the 9 o’clock break and came back one HOUR later claiming that we had not heard the bell (so embarrassing) or sitting in front of the classroom talking whilst the others were inside having a lesson, the others had finally tired of our repeated “no we are not together” and decided that as of that day we were.
A week or so later, tragedy hit my life when a good friend got hit by a drunk driver and died. My world came crashing down, leaving me reeling. C and M both helped me through those dark weeks, even though they intensely disliked each other (and still do, although both have grudgingly come to accept the other’s presence in my life). It was during that phase that M really established himself as someone I could lean on and I began to trust him.
August 04, 2005
The latest
France sent us the plan for our “soutenance” (final presentation of our work) yesterday and isn’t it just my luck: I get to present in front of all 3 headmasters. Great.
OH MY GOD!!!
Great.
If last year is anything to go by: the Swiss headmaster will favour me (at least that’s what I am hoping) as I am Swiss. The German headmaster will mark me down because I’m not German and the French headmaster will mark me down because as far as I know he doesn’t understand any English so he won’t understand a word I say. Consequently I will either be wearing a very short skirt with high heels or donning a blouse cut to the navel to increase my chance of a passing grade. Hmm. I may get marked down for flashing.
On a happier note, Mum’s taking me to Lisbon for a few days to soak up some sun. Let’s just hope the weather’s better over there than it is here!
OH MY GOD!!!
Great.
If last year is anything to go by: the Swiss headmaster will favour me (at least that’s what I am hoping) as I am Swiss. The German headmaster will mark me down because I’m not German and the French headmaster will mark me down because as far as I know he doesn’t understand any English so he won’t understand a word I say. Consequently I will either be wearing a very short skirt with high heels or donning a blouse cut to the navel to increase my chance of a passing grade. Hmm. I may get marked down for flashing.
On a happier note, Mum’s taking me to Lisbon for a few days to soak up some sun. Let’s just hope the weather’s better over there than it is here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)