If you haven't already heard about Parkour, you soon will. Although the sport originally started in France, it's growing in popularity mainly thanks to the viral videos on YouTube and other sites. One of the guys here in Geneva is a fanatic and it's pretty much a superior temporal sulcus, just-do-it kind of deal. The photo is of him. I'm pretty sure that if I were to do it, I would look like Johnny Knoxville from Jackass.
My buddy's parkour photos here. More on parkour here and here. Johnny Knoxville taking one for the team here.
Went to the Davis Cup on Sunday and saw the Fed kick the crap out of the Serbs in straight sets. Also clocked my first serve at a consistent 150 kilometers per hour (93 mph). Now if I could only hit a consistent backhand. For reference, we saw some players hitting a consistent 210 kph (130 mph) first serve.
Nougat is a confectionery made with sugar or honey, roasted nuts (almonds, walnuts, pistachios or hazelnuts are common) and sometimes chopped, candied fruit. The consistency of nougat can range from chewy to hard depending on its composition. It's a pretty common site in the candy bar aisles of stores in Geneva and is addictive as all getout. 680g (1½lb) Sugar 340-450g (12-16oz) Pistachios and Almonds 340ml (12floz) Golden syrup 235ml (8floz) Water 60ml (2floz) Clear Honey 2 Egg Whites 1 tsp Vanilla Extract
Put the sugar, syrup, honey and water into a saucepan and cook until a temperature of 127°C (260°F) is reached or a brittle ball will form in water.
Beat the egg whites stiffly and pour the mixture slowly into them, beating constantly until the mixture grows stiff and waxy.
Then add the vanilla and nuts.
Mix well and pour into a small box or pan lined with waxed paper.
When it has cooled sufficiently, cut in squares or slices.
Remnants of "socialism with a human face" still exist everywhere in Prague - sort of like those "Believe" stickers in Baltimore, except the Prague version would be more akin to "Please don't be so sad". Untouched for the most part by war, the influence of Moscow on the city is clear: spires and domes, heroic Lenin-like statues striking poses, and those fuzzy souvenir KGB hats (imported from China, amusingly). One can only wonder what Praha would look like if Patton had liberated Prague instead of the Red Army. Wandering through the downtown maze of passageways is like walking through your high school during summertime: clean, quiet and echo-y, you can almost hear the chattering voices of ghosts still wandering the buffed-floor halls. It reminded me a lot of the Chicago underground (literal) shopping culture.
I crossed one of the major bridges across the Vltava river and traipsed through Nove Mesto, Stare Mesto, and down the Vaclavske namesti, or the equivalent of the Champs-Elysées for Prague. The goofy souvenir shop : nice shop ratio climbs to astronomical levels as one gets closer to this, the major shopping district of the city. The street was jammed with tourists and I spent the first few minutes becoming accustomed and claustrophic with 5000 of my closest friends as we all jockeyed for the best picture position.
I impulsively walked the streets of Prague past sunset, into the night, and found myself on a narrow street where the clear "ka-chink" of typewriter keys could be heard. I moved closer to the sound and found it was coming from the open window of a brightly-lit, second-story building: the police station. No Microsoft Vista upgrade problems for these guys! I turned the corner and literally ran into three teenagers smoking a small bong and eating FRIED McDonalds pies (they apparently still fry them here). I laughed out loud and drew very paranoid looks from the kids who scattered like cockroaches when the lights come on.
Hungry and tired, I wandered into a small restaurant that had a tiny door and loud jazz emanating from its cavernous depths. I stumbled past the bar and sat down at a tiny, 10-table venue called Red, Hot, and Blues - not anything like it's American counterpart, it is a hangout for struggling artists trying to get enough gigs that will pay for their dinner. A band called Fency was belting out versions of rockabilly and jazz classics in broken English, all while trying to pick up on a table of British tourist girls in the front. I inhaled my pork tenderloin, potatoes, and Stella Artois, listened to a few more songs, then made my way out into the light rain that started to come down. On the way back across the bridge to my hotel, I stumbled across an outdoor film festival that was playing a Bollywood film at ridiculous audio levels. I jammed out for a few minutes, then took my tired ass home.
A few recommendations to the Prague Tourist Council:
Get better cabaret promoters. Walking past one of the random cabarets at the end of the Vaclavske namesti near St. Wenceslas square, a promoter said "Come on in. It's sort of a nice place." Wow. Remind me never to get a marketing guy from Prague. In a city where operas and symphony orchestra concerts are promoted as aggressively as cabarets, it's important that you send the right message to win market share!
Sell out, but don't do it with KFC! Freaking KFCs everywhere! I never thought I would see Czechs swallowing the greasy-ass (but oh so delicious) chicken skins off of a Colonel Sander's breast.
Only you can prevent horrible t-shirts. I believe that Prague may be single-handedly responsible for the proliferation of tshirts with bad english. Most involve the f*ck word or funny (and nonsensical) uses of English. Where's the industry that sells random Czech slogans to Americans? Why isn't this industry bigger?
Get better casinos. I walked into a casino and amazed at how it sucked. Our casino nights during rush week at Pi Kappa Alpha were better. The sullen tourists dumped money onto the 3 roulette tables, 4 slot machines, and 2 poker tables. When I wandered through, there must have been around 6 people in the entire place. Sad, sad, sad.
Cities with a history of espionage are cool. If DC can put together an okay-version of the Spy Museum, I'm sure Prague could do better - especially since it's REALLY a hub for espionage.
Ideas of the Day:
T-shirt shop for Czechs (or other nationalities) to create random t-shirts and sell them to willing Americans who like to see random foreign words on their shirts. Cafepress - time to start mirroring in .cz!
Ipod-based currency exchanger. Trying to figure out dollar prices from koruna is a bitch. Hey Apple, give us an "Extra" on the Ipod where you can set the exchange rate, thumbroll up to a price, and see the relative value.
Waking up late this past Tuesday, I sensed a great disturbance in the force. Picking up a local paper on the way to work, I saw what was creating the rift in time and space. Steven Seagal has a band. Yes, THAT Steven Seagal.
Now, I may have been in Switzerland for close to eight months, but who the hell knew that Steven Seagal had a freaking band? And on top of that, was TOURING? It appears that Steven Seagal and Thunderbox are on a European tour right now. They hit Paris and Geneva earlier this month and are well on their way to promoting their version of bluesy jazz with a flying monkey fist beat across England and Ireland. If it is any indication of how successful the Seagal brand can be, the Steven Seagal energy drink Lightning Bolt seems to be gaining market share among 12-16 year old kids who still think Erika Eleniak is still hot and have that scene from Under Siege on loop.
A last minute flight deal and an acute onset of guilt that I hadn't been taking advantage of my time abroad prompted me to jump on a flight to Prague last Friday.
I was welcomed onto the plane by a screaming, undermedicated child. I have beliefs that the Swiss are undermedicated in general, but I will get into that later. The mother, who suffered from jaw-dropping stunning Czech features, wore an el-gigantor diamond ring which she wielded like a weapon and was able to successfully defuse the anger of the plane with her flirty smile on multiple occasions. I was notified by her child's 130db scream that we had begun our final descent.
Fantastic weather and a 1 dollar:22 koruna exchange rate greeted me. I piled into a cab that was blaring Red Red Wine and observed a landscape that looked much like Montana. Set on a plateau northwest of the city, you can actually see the curvature of the earth from the airport. Nervous that my cabbie was taking one too many random turns, I checked the signal strength on my cell phone. Images of my limp, lifeless body dumped in the middle of a Prague alley -- still on hold with the police -- flashed through my mind.
I was dumped at the Best Western Premier Kinsky Gardens hotel 600 koruna lighter. I unpacked and headed out the door, not realizing that I wouldn't return for another 6 hours.
According to a new report, nearly 42% of the French population older than 15 years has a weight problem. Almost a third are overweight and 12.4% are obese. Extra-large clothes comprised 22% of French women's clothing sales at the beginning of this year compared with 18% in 2004.
The percentage of women buying bigger C-cup bras rose 7% to 56% between 2000 and 2005. In a related story, Larry Flynt announces the launch of a new French magazine entitled "La Badonkadonk".
Back in August, a few friends and I watched "An Inconvenient Truth" on an outdoor movie screen against the backdrop of the sunset on Lake Geneva. It's a rocking setting - even better than Screen on the Green in DC (imho) but maybe comprable to Red Rocks in Colorado.
The movie "theater" was open-air and had a tilting pneumatic-driven movie screen that came complete with its own dramatic music as it tilted. It is built explicitly for the summer (taken down in the late summer) and looks so much more appealing than the existing movie theaters in Geneva.
We drank overpriced beer, ate a complimentary ice cream, watched the sunset (and consequently got quite cold), and felt really guilty about having ever driven a car (thanks Al). Some suggestions to Orange Cinema to make this a more entertaining event:
Unless they're being served by midgets, midget beer isn't all that funny. Tiny .5 liter cans of Heineken are the sort of thing you expect to find in Spencers next to the sex dice and tequila lollipops.
Even though the audience for the movie may be more "documentary-friendly" don't use the opportunity to foist a 1-hour amateur documentary on mentally-damaged (ahem, impaired) Swiss people and advertise it as a "trailer".
Let the VIP seats go. If the jerks don't have the ability to get there when the show starts, they should deserve to be sitting in the front row or nosebleeds.
Less talky-talk about the movie before you show the movie. It's nice that you can read printouts from Hollywood.com or the New York Times entertainment section, but we have no need - or desire - to listen to you ramble. Don't mistake the tolerance of the Swiss for an engaged audience. In fact, a majority of us in Geneva aren't even Swiss. Watch your back.
Instead of ice cream, try better giveaways - like trial-period phone service or free phones. Hell, you're competing with Swisscom anyway - why not try and take some marketshare?
Link to Orange Cinema is here. Click on Al to be watch the South Park episode of ManBearPig.
Woke up quick at about noon Just thought that I had to be in Eze-sur-Mer soon I gotta pack a trunk Before the day begins Before Calvin starts bitchin' 'bout original sin
About to go And damn near went blind Sun off the water in Eze Throwin' up mad shine We went in a bar to take a sip With my Casio On the side of my hip
We walked up the city And I shuttered my weapon Just as I clicked, The fools kept steppin' We jumped in the bus Bunch of Irish on our ride They're front and back Side to side
Turned up the Denon to hear I was pumpin' new shit By Natasha St. Pier It was Chacun Pour Soi At the top of the list Then I played my own shit, It went somethin' like this:
Promenade cruisin' In my 6-fo' Jockin' salopes, Slappin' the hoe's Train-ed it to the coast To get the scoop Tony Parker out there Cold shootin' some hoop
A car pulls up, Who can it be? Bunch of French students Rollin Kilo G They roll down the window And start to say It's all about doggin' That say-pay-ay (C.P.E)
Cuz the boys down in Eze Are alwayz hard Come talkin' like Swiss And we'll pull your card Knowin' nothin' in life But the sun and cheese Don't quote me boy, Oh Frenchie, please...
Up in Eze And we wanna get ill So we hike a jardin Where some homeboyz chill The sun is out there Tryin' to make us hotter Pulled up to a bar And drank up like squatters Greeted with a canette and I start drinkin' From the pastis My breath starts stinkin' Gotta get some food And start working those jaws Before we left I hit the nicoise
Pulled to the beach Gotta get off of the pad And the pebbles on my feet Were makin' me mad A rocky-ass beach I couldn't believe So I grabbed the stupid rock and I gave it a heave
Started to rain, Wouldn't you know? We turned back like moles And retreated below
We started to stand And began to get out We tipped like Americans And knocked the waitress' ass out
Cuz the boys down in Eze Are alwayz hard Come talkin' like Swiss And we'll pull your card Knowin' nothin' in life But the sun and cheese Don't quote me boy, Oh Frenchie, please...
For those that need more historical reference, listen to the Easy-E soundtrack here. Watch the Dynamite Hack version here (much better). To gain an appreciation of Compton 80's rap, click here.
Flickr has just added geotagging to their site. I have to tell you - it's hella fun. Check out some of my photos (and all of the other Flickr community's) here.
I'm waiting for Flickr and Microsoft to team up to use PhotoSynth and Flickr geotagging to create a virtual tourism based on pictures other people have created.
Yes. I have once again moved. Which makes this the 3rd apartment I have lived in Geneva in the past 6 months. The trend, however, is generally improving. I have a 5 minute commute to work (walking), can walk to the grocery store, park (across the street), and boulangerie. Living on the top floor of a Swiss house - it's like living in the country in the middle of Geneva.
How expensive is it to own a cellphone (mobile to UK readers and handy to you Germans) in Switzerland? Our investigative team aims to find out. We will pit American provider Verizon Wireless against Swiss competitor Swisscom. Both are powerhouse telecom fixtures in their respective countries, owning fixed lines as well as telecomm services. Let's see how they fare head-to-head. So let's get it on!
Assumptions:
Our callers will place 500 minutes worth of calls a month over the course of 100 individual calls
We will evaluate the most cost efficient subscription, as of September 1, 2006
Zip codes selected for evaluation will be 20006 in Washington D.C. and Geneva, Switzerland.
50% of calls during night and weekends, 50% during daytime
No roaming calls
Costs will be estimated over 1 year (12 months)
Verizon Wireless:
450 anytime minutes = $39.99 USD
Activation fee = $35.00 USD
Additional minutes are .45 = (50% of 50 minutes) = $11.25 USD
SIM card included
Total 1-year TCO: $526.13 USD
Swisscom:
NATEL Liberty monthly subscription = 25.00 CHF
SIM card (initial) = 40.00 CHF
.50 CHF /call up to a max. of 60 minutes; then CHF 0.50 for each further 60 minutes (7x24h)hour = 50 CHF (100 calls x .50 CHF)
Total 1-year TCO: 940 CHF = $764 USD
Verdict:
Verizon. Apparently, Swisscom's profit model depends on people making short calls of less than 60 minutes. Unless you're a 14-year old girl in a new relationship with the dreamy guy at the front of the class, who is talking hours at a time? Especially if your'e Swiss?
"...I really didn't expect our hotel to be like a disco on the outside and a pimpa's paradise on the inside! It's like George Clinton and the P Funk All Stars are in town all the time!"
"...Rocks on the beach? WTF? Someone said "let's go swimming" and I look like the last guy picked for the Competitive Indian Firewalking Team getting there."
The day started out innocently enough. Three-hour train ride from Geneva through Bern to Zurich, reading the daily paper in the abnormaly quiet train car, and seeing the regular student crowd board the train in Lausanne. Then it started. Getting off the train and onto the Zurich tram, we were witness to girls dressed in the "sexy policewoman" outfits running into a gaggle of real officers. We were there with camera in hand. It would get progressively better as the day wore on. My friend and I walked the Bahnhofstrasse and stopped into a bar to order some cordon bleu (the size of my head) and drank beer from steins the diameter of my thighs. At lunch, a guy in a leopard-print leotard and cape walked in. Turning heads and illiciting wide grins, several patrons asked him to have a beer with them at their tables.
Now getting shitfaced in the afternoon is something I don't typically do, but when you're in Zurich during the Street Parade, you have no reason not to. Watching the massive floats blaring techno music, you could barely hear the people offering you X or Special K. The drug scene during this party is so intense that the promoters have signs saying "No Drugs, Please" plastered over all of the floats. The local authorities have taken an alternative stance: rather than think they can put a stop to all drug use during the party, they provide mobile testing vans which test the quality of the drugs and determine if it is safe to take. They don't arrest anyone. Watching the dudes with t-shirts that made no sense was amusing enough for me.
Beer coming out of my ears, we headed over to the Baur Au Lac hotel (note: everything sounds better in French, even when you're in the German part of Switzerland). Not fully comprehending how posh this place was, we stood outside the velvet rope and waited for my friend's girlfriend to come vouch for us. Like a scene out of E's Wild On, we walked into a world of caviar, champagne, and beautiful people. We scarfed down nibbly bits while trying to seem uninterested in the wildlife bumping and grinding around us. Drunk and hanging with the high society of Zurich's 20- and 30-somethings, we scampered up the stone walls of the hotel's tea garden and watched the mashup of techno, gothica, raving, and alcohol meld together in a beautiful concoction until midnight. We finished off the night traipsing through the refuse-laden streets (think Preakness-size garbage, except with Heineken instead of Budweiser) and found ourselves downing Long Island Iced Teas at Drinx Bar. Violating the age-old addage of "beer before hard", we called it an early night and slept off our fun until 11 the next day. (Post note: the streets in Zurich were clean by 7am the next day).
The next day was more sedate - Cordon Bleu (again) at AlmodoBar, go karting near the airport, and fantastic Thai food at Lily's. My last drink in Zurich ended as wonderfully as my first: singing "My Way" like Sinatra's backup singers with 50 other strangers in Acapulco during karaoke night.
If you haven't already heard about Parkour, you soon will. Although the sport originally started in France, it's growing in popularity mainly thanks to the viral videos on YouTube and other sites. One of the guys here in Geneva is a fanatic and it's pretty much a superior temporal sulcus, just-do-it kind of deal. The photo is of him. I'm pretty sure that if I were to do it, I would look like Johnny Knoxville from Jackass.
