Warning: gratuitous photos of scenery

Sunday we woke up, did the chore thing, loaded the squeaky raccoons into the washing machine and then looked at each other and said. "Now what?" It was 11 AM, so we had an early lunch and then since it was heavenly outside, we decided to take our favorite walk to Lutry and poke around a bit. 

On the way, I met a swan and we sized each other up. We then decided that a mutual disdain from afar would be appropriate. Friendships are complicated and you can't force things. Plus the bastard was the size of a three-year-old and after seeing the evil glow in its eye I had no intention of coming any closer.

Our destination in the distance.

Once in the town, we began poking about some of the mysterious little streets. One of them led us to the scene above: an archway straight out of Middle Earth. Or, you know, Medieval Switzerland.

I die.

Because we did not feel as though we had walked enough, we saw a nearly vertical hill and were all like. Yeah, let's see what's on top of that. Here I am awaiting a coronary.

Castle turned vineyard

Seriously. This is real.

I KNOW

. I don't believe it either.

On our way home, we stopped and had some coffee at a sidewalk cafe. I am rapidly developing an appreciation for the art of foamed milk atop coffee. It really takes away that nasty, bitter, oh what is it...right...

coffee

flavor. The sugar helps too.

Montreaux Part 2

Okay, we left off right when we saw the castle and I started hyperventilating about princesses and childhood dreams of living in a giant stone refrigerator. Whoops. The cynicism is supposed to come later. Along with what I learned about witch hunts and torture in thee olden dayes.

Giant stone clock - a nice touch for any imposing domicile. 

Just the cutest little tower EVER.

Interior shot...where I had a Game of Thrones moment. 

The great thing about Chillon was that you could walk through almost the entire building. There were all sorts of twisting staircases and long passageways and a hidden rooms. It was many magnitudes of awesome. Being that it was built entirely of stone, wood and metal with little access to sunlight, it was also freezing. And since I had decided to leave my trusty puffer coat at home in favor of a more professorial look, I was smote.

After climbing many steep and daunting staircases, we were treated to this view (note: all epic shots in this post were taken by Anthony).

I don't know what this thing is, but it's adorable.

There was a display of medieval armor in several of the rooms. Which inevitably led to the question: if the enemy were storming the castle which weapon would you choose to defend yourself? Anthony chose the mace which, from the photo above is clearly a ball of evil and I, having read far too much George RR Martin, chose the giant broadsword...you know, because it's subtle. Later in the gift shop, Anthony had to talk me down from buying a replica broadsword. I relented only after realizing that the edges weren't even sharp. How would a dull broadsword help me in the event of the End Times?

Some interior details

Okay, so, witches. They had a special exhibit going on with lots of relics of the period and while I have watched The Crucible, know a decent amount information about the general horrors of witch hunting, it is much more poignant to see handwritten documents detailing the various interrogations and sentencing of innocent people. And just to drive the exhibit home, when you walked outside into the inner courtyard there were some example pyres that had been erected. Yeesh. 

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, the amulet pictured above does indeed have abracadabra engraved on it. I predict it will be the Next Big Thing in accessorizing this fall.

Back to pretty things: doorhandles

Cool typography

The incredible view from the highest point of the castle. 

All in all, this was a great little daytrip and I can't wait to come back here with my family in August. We also found out that Montreaux is the start of the Golden Pass which provides several incredible rides through the mountains. When the weather gets a little warmer, I think we will definitely be checking this out. 

Unpacked

When moving into a Swiss apartment there is a formal meeting that takes place between the previous tenant, the leasing agent and the new tenant (and in our case our relocation agent). All parties meet at the apartment in question and the leasing agent goes through the entire residence inch by inch, noting anything that is damaged or irregular. During the inspection, the leasing agent who I will refer to as PF (for Perpetual Frown) took the better part of two hours to scribble endlessly on her notepad face like a thundercloud, muttering angrily in French while we looked on, completely perplexed.

It is expected that the outgoing tenant leave the residence in spotless condition. As in eat-off-the-toilet-seat spotless. Given the massive security deposits that are required to rent anything here, it's no wonder that most people hire a company to come in and scour the place.

After her inspection, the PF pointed out three things that were not cleaned to her satisfaction (one side of the door on the dishwasher, a 3''x 3'' spot on the gleaming tub and some spots on the bathroom grout) and listed the total fine if the areas in question were not cleaned by the end of the week (500 CF...seriously). After we all shook hands and went our separate ways, I made a mental note to cover the entire apartment in Clorox-soaked bubble wrap during our stay to avoid getting nailed when it is time for us to leave.

We were able to pick up the keys a few days later and set a move-in date for Friday. Setting a date was exciting not just because we were finally moving into our home for the foreseeable future, but also because it meant that our belongings had made it to dry land and were not, in fact, sitting on the floor of the Atlantic.

As someone who's idea of moving, (until now) has involved bribing various less-than-enthused friends and family members, carrying absurdly large items on public transportation and filling garbage bags with everything within arms reach, just the idea of having movers still blows my mind. When they actually showed up on time (!), were insanely nice(!!) and had our things off the truck and unpacked within a matter of hours (!!!) I was pretty sure I was in some sort of dream and would soon awaken to reality (which in this case would involve all our furniture tossed in a heap at the bottom of the staircase and some little imp laughing at me as I tried to lug it upstairs while crying)

The fact that the moving crew were not just smiling, but singing after carrying my monstrous black cabinet up five flights of stairs was more than I could handle. For I have had to move that cabinet less than fifty yards and the words that came out of my mouth while doing so were along the lines of "I'm dead now! My back is broken! Leave me - save yourselves!" etc.

After the Jolly Movers had left and the dust settled, we began the arduous task of Putting Everything in Its Place. Anthony was a hero and rewired all our lamps while I set about the  (equally demanding) task of making things look pretty. We started on Friday afternoon and did not stop moving until Saturday night when our legs gave out and we had to start self medicating with wine.

It is very surreal to be rearranging one's possessions on a new continent. Every time I put something away, my brain would say ''my electric toothbrush! The last time I saw this I was in Chicago! I can't believe it's here! How cool!'' Contrary to popular belief, this did not get old.

And then, at some undefinable point, we stopped putting things away in a new apartment and started putting them away in our new apartment. We cooked a meal and ate it in our living room while watching a movie. Bliss.

It's good to be home.

on the devil being in the details

I posted some images of these antique children's clothes on my tumblr a few weeks back, but the work is so exquisite, I wanted to share the more detailed photos I took here.

All these pieces are handmade and were rescued from being thrown out (Sacrilege!) by Anthony's mom who now keeps them safe and sound.

When we were in Providence, she brought them out and we spent the afternoon admiring the hours and hours of hand work that must have gone into making them.

I literally cannot imagine doing this without the aid of a sewing machine.

Can you imagine putting this level of handcrafted detail onto what is essentially underwear for a toddler?

The photo below is my favorite piece: a teeny tiny skirt of cream cotton covered with a pattern of cornflower blue. If the waist wasn't all of about 10 inches, I would be wearing it all over the place.