Had a quick weekend in Paris, and even though it was still the middle of February, it was sunny and warm (high of about 15 C / 60 F). I love Paris in the (global warming-induced) springtime. It was one of those little collisions of worlds. There was a friend from high school, a friend from law school, an ex-expat I had met in Zurich, and a coworker. Everyone seemed to get along well, and as far as I know, no blood was shed, nor were any terrible secrets revealed.
We got to our hotel on Friday night, and were informed that our room was on the fifth floor (in America it would be called the sixth floor). We headed for the elevator, and if there is a prize for Smallest Elevator in the World, I think our hotel has a good shot. When I first moved to Zurich, I thought that the elevator in my apartment building was very small. It fits three people, or maybe four, if none of them are overweight, and if they are wearing deodorant and don’t mind full-body sardine-style contact with the other passengers. Then I saw some of the other elevators around town that fit only three people in a tight squeeze. But our hotel’s elevator barely fit two of us with our overnight bags. The placard in the elevator warned us not to load it with more than three people or 240 kg (528 lbs.), but I have no idea where it might suggest we could put a third person or extra weight, unless we were to carry him curled up on a platter above our heads.
We unfolded ourselves out of the elevator on the fifth (sixth) floor to look for our room. It seemed a bit odd that Room 13 would be anywhere but the first floor, but we had faith in the desk clerk’s instructions. We lost some of that faith, however, when we noticed the numbers on the doors in the hallway: 40, 39, 38… We almost turned around to look elsewhere before we looked next door to Room 38, and lo and behold, there was Room 13. Quite inexplicable, and completely unlike anything you would see in the precisely organized German-speaking region of Switzerland.
At dinner with some friends, I was asked to translate some of the menu, and upon seeing some of the more exotic items on offer, I was sorely tempted to give fake translations in hopes of inducing them to order the wrong thing. I was merciful, however, and my friends decided against ordering the “pork groin, ear, foot, and tail,” and the “calf head with brains.” I’m sure the dishes are both quite delicious, as French food didn’t get its elite reputation by accident, but we made less adventurous choices, at least this time around. We only had one weekend away from the somewhat bland restaurant scene in Zurich, so I wanted to make the most of it, and pork groin didn’t seem to be the best way to do it.
Did some shopping and got my hair cut over the weekend, in order to save money. I always end up spending money in order to save it, but I would argue that it’s absolutely necessary when you live in a city as expensive as Zurich. For instance, I got a haircut that cost 30 euros (about $40), which in Switzerland would have cost 100 Swiss Francs (about $80). Even more importantly, the stylist didn’t give me a mullet, which is a favorite among stylists here in Zurich.
Sunday was Chinese New Year, and as I walked around Paris, I realized that Paris actually has a large enough Asian population to make the holiday slightly relevant. It was strange seeing Asian men around Paris – the small Asian population of Zurich is overwhelmingly female, mostly Southeast Asian women who married Swiss men. On the same note, it was strange to see Asian (particularly East Asian) women who appeared to be single, professional, and non-mail-order.
We got to our hotel on Friday night, and were informed that our room was on the fifth floor (in America it would be called the sixth floor). We headed for the elevator, and if there is a prize for Smallest Elevator in the World, I think our hotel has a good shot. When I first moved to Zurich, I thought that the elevator in my apartment building was very small. It fits three people, or maybe four, if none of them are overweight, and if they are wearing deodorant and don’t mind full-body sardine-style contact with the other passengers. Then I saw some of the other elevators around town that fit only three people in a tight squeeze. But our hotel’s elevator barely fit two of us with our overnight bags. The placard in the elevator warned us not to load it with more than three people or 240 kg (528 lbs.), but I have no idea where it might suggest we could put a third person or extra weight, unless we were to carry him curled up on a platter above our heads.
We unfolded ourselves out of the elevator on the fifth (sixth) floor to look for our room. It seemed a bit odd that Room 13 would be anywhere but the first floor, but we had faith in the desk clerk’s instructions. We lost some of that faith, however, when we noticed the numbers on the doors in the hallway: 40, 39, 38… We almost turned around to look elsewhere before we looked next door to Room 38, and lo and behold, there was Room 13. Quite inexplicable, and completely unlike anything you would see in the precisely organized German-speaking region of Switzerland.
At dinner with some friends, I was asked to translate some of the menu, and upon seeing some of the more exotic items on offer, I was sorely tempted to give fake translations in hopes of inducing them to order the wrong thing. I was merciful, however, and my friends decided against ordering the “pork groin, ear, foot, and tail,” and the “calf head with brains.” I’m sure the dishes are both quite delicious, as French food didn’t get its elite reputation by accident, but we made less adventurous choices, at least this time around. We only had one weekend away from the somewhat bland restaurant scene in Zurich, so I wanted to make the most of it, and pork groin didn’t seem to be the best way to do it.
Did some shopping and got my hair cut over the weekend, in order to save money. I always end up spending money in order to save it, but I would argue that it’s absolutely necessary when you live in a city as expensive as Zurich. For instance, I got a haircut that cost 30 euros (about $40), which in Switzerland would have cost 100 Swiss Francs (about $80). Even more importantly, the stylist didn’t give me a mullet, which is a favorite among stylists here in Zurich.
Sunday was Chinese New Year, and as I walked around Paris, I realized that Paris actually has a large enough Asian population to make the holiday slightly relevant. It was strange seeing Asian men around Paris – the small Asian population of Zurich is overwhelmingly female, mostly Southeast Asian women who married Swiss men. On the same note, it was strange to see Asian (particularly East Asian) women who appeared to be single, professional, and non-mail-order.
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