Some Kind of Groove, Pt. 2

Hmm, similar to an actual work day, I forgot where I was in recounting my new weekly routine (cut me some slack, I'm out of practice). Ah yes, I remember now, I remember everything...

Carless in the evenings, I walk 5-10 minutes from the hotel through the main train station to catch a bus, destination: health club (sister club to our Zürich membership) at least two nights a week. After a year in Zürich, a bus still feels more natural than a car; it's hard to re-teach an old dog older tricks. I also want to check out the main Lausanne public swimming pool (Swiss public pools rock!) but haven't attempted it yet. Last week, as is typical for a traveler with too much on his/her mind, I nearly disastrously forgot to pack my workout shorts, but luckily (aha!) had brought my swimming attire. It was anything but pretty, but my spandexy black swim-training suit over my spandexy undershorts got the job done (you know it still wasn't as ridiculous as some peoples’ attire).

After working out, I usually grab a portable dinner at the train station to eat back in the hotel room, typically a sandwich (always on French bread, never the pretzel bread ubiquitous in Zürich) and a mini (1/2 to 1/3) bottle of wine. My big meal is cafeteria lunch (rabbit or trout or something) so a light dinner is fine; a bit lonely and boring, but whatever. Last week I mixed it up by venturing to the Old Town neighborhood near the health club to satisfy my craving for an always-delicious Turkish Döner kebab, my first on the French side. Evenings not spent at the club, I hit a local low-key restaurant in the hotel/train station neighborhood, of which there are plenty to choose from. The average Lausanne mom-and-pop restaurant & café offerings are still somewhat constrained by Swiss respect for the norm, but supremely better than Zürich’s; no cheaper but at least varied, original and interesting (and French). My language limitations also admittedly temper the dining experience: it's funny how mastering the physics of wave-particle duality during the day yet not being able to order a side salad at night gives a net bedtime result of feeling like an utter idiot. You'd expect a better mental balance but no such luck.

As the curtain closes on the workweek, I exit the office late Friday afternoon to catch a 4:30pm train home. Unlike the outbound trip, I wouldn’t dream of mixing with Friday evening’s 2nd class carloads of obnoxious teenagers drinking 1.70 Franc cans of lousy Feldschlösschen beer (Switzerland’s Budweiser or worse). Goodness no, I pay the 22 Franc upgrade for an adult 1st class seat where we drink 1664-brand beer from France (the haute tradition bière) for a respectable 2.00 Francs per can. I reach my doorstep more or less around 7pm. Let the weekend begin!

Starting mid-January however, compress that same schedule from five full days to only Mon-Wed or even Mon-Tue, with the other 2 or 3 days working from home and that’s my new routine. Half French, half German, all Swiss--hopefully my brain doesn’t explode (or as the Germans say, my head doesn’t smoke, mein Kopf raucht nicht). Hey, it’s a living.