Curl Up & Fry

I have decided to change the official name of Switzerland to Tobleroneland. I think I ate my weight in Toblerones. Forget Swiss cheese or army knives… toss me a Toblerone and I will profess my loyalty to your country for the rest of my life.

As I mentioned earlier, we had the week off for Carnaval. We decided to peace out of Maastricht and hit up Tobleroneland. They threw a group of 12 of us in the attic, literally what they called it, of a Chalet in the Alps. By far the coolest place we have stayed up to this point. There are no doors or private rooms in this place. If you lucked out you would get a see through curtain to provide your bed with privacy. I was not so lucky. This hostel had a different atmosphere too. The first morning everyone went skiing except me & lyndsy. We woke up to some man sitting on Meghan’s bed asking us all sorts of questions trying to strike up conversation. Reminded me of home I suppose… people wandering into my room, disregarding the fact that I am completely asleep and trying to carry on lengthy in depth conversations with me.

Being the home ec-ey aspiring housewife that I am, I spent the day in the kitchen cooking dinner for everyone on the slopes. I cut 5 million pieces of bread to feed my hungry hungry friends. Four solid hours of bread slicing… how many people can say they did that in the alps? Me.

Lyndsy taught me how to make real food... like the kind you buy. Here I am cooking for the gang... She let me touch the food and everything. Look mom I'm making chicken nuggets! I just wish I had my apron.

We had family dinner every night… all 12 of us sat around and talked about how much we loved Tobleroneland.

The next day we hiked to find some free snow tubing. The buses kept forgetting to pick us up so we passed time by having a snowman building competition... girls against boy. If you look at the pictures you will notice it wasn't much of a contest. He is even from Minnesota. How embarrassing; I bet Minnesota won't let him back in.

Snow tubing is the best thing in the world. We hiked up a mountainside with and inner tube, squeezed inside the tube that was definitely made for children and had a French man shove us down the mountain. As a risk management major I was concerned; the Swiss have no liability laws. When we arrived at the top we noticed it was much higher went a lot faster than we had expected. I made several people go ahead of me before I sucked it up and tubed down the alp.

Part of me wanted to stop the trip here. How on earth could you top tubing down an alp (just one)? Luckily I found a solution. Curling! I love curling so much. It makes me sad that it took me this long to discover my favorite athletic endeavor. Can I just tell you how good I am at curling? I am a pro. Crowds lined up to watch me sweep that ice. They were all chanting my Swiss name “Katja". Children were asking me to autograph their cowbells… the only item Swiss childrens carry on them. Needless to say, the Swiss love me. If you can curl.. you are totally in.

Dun. Dun. Dun dun, dun, dun. Dun dun-dun-dun-dun dun dun-dun-dun-dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun. That’s right my friends… the sweet sound of the Olympic fanfare. Because Tobleroneland is also the official headquarters of the Olympics. We visited Olympic museum place… or my new home… whatever you want to call it. I LOVE THE OLYMPICS more than I love ham and kaas sandwiches. We conveniently arrived with five people… or five Olympic rings you might say.

This was the best museum I have ever set foot in. Speaking of feet, they had Michael Jordan’s shoe just sitting there… no bullet proof glass around it. You could like touch it! They had Sergei Bubka’s pole, Michael Phelps' swimsuit, Shannon Miller’s gymnastic outfit thing.. (that’s how the Olympics refer to it). They had a real live bobsled… yes, as opposed to all of the dead ones I’ve seen. We saw the first curl stone thrown out when they brought curling back to the Olympics… rightfully so! Not to mention every Olympic torch and medal. You could like touch them… so in theory… I carried the Olympic flame from 1932. I am a part of history. Kinda makes you want to use your Visa and drink some coca-cola doesn’t it?

On the way back from Olympic town Meghan found the abominable snowman on the side of a mountain. People have tried for centuries to capture a picture of him. I succeeded. Turns out he has been hiding in the Swiss Alps this whole time. Who knew? Anyone remember that ski game on the computer where the abominable snowman comes and eats you in the end? Just curious.

Our last day I decided I had perfected every outdoor activity the Alps had thrown at me… except for one. This had to be remedied. I strapped a hot pink board to my feet and concurred Beethoven (one of the mountains… probably not the one I was on but let’s just pretend). When it comes to icey sports my expertise pretty much stops at curling. Skiing and Snowboarding not so much my thing. Remember the last time I went skiing I almost fell off the lift and ended up with one ski & one pole? That didn’t slow me down one bit. I headed to the top of the mountain and learned to be a falling leaf. That’s snowboard talk for go down like a four year old. Their lifts aren’t quite like we have in America. It’s a bungee chord you rest behind your leg and it’s supposed to drag you up the mountain. Not so. It’s not really made for snowboarders and I’m convinced it is impossible. I tried three times to make it up this freaking lift… all three times I fell off. The fourth time I didn’t even attempt the lift. I climbed up Beethoven 4 times. The other kids eventually felt sorry for me and we found a run that involved a chair lift instead. I became quite the little snowboarder. No broken limbs… and I didn’t lose my board down the mountain like Miranda did. So I deem my snowboarding career a success.

The next morning we woke up to Shay screaming because TRI DELT GOT FIRST PLACE IN SING!! That is the best way to wake Katie up for an 8 oclock train I have decided. It was then time to leave our little chalet in the Alps.