A New Addition to our Menagerie

Well we have a new addition to our menagerie. Joining Cesar, Chester and Zoe is Charlie.

Charlie is a 4 year old Tinker horse, we are now the proud "semi-owners". He is boarded here on the farm with us. His owner ran into some difficult times paying the boarding fees. Amy has been taking riding lessons at a farm about 10 km from here. So we worked out a deal where we pay half of his boarding fees, he gets to stay here on the farm and we get to ride and work with him when ever we want.

Tinker horses, also known as Gypsy Vanner in the US are draft style horses, bred to pull wagons call vardons. These vardons are wagons designed to be lived in, like the ones gypsies would use. Although their bloodlines are still uncertain, they are related to the Clydesdales. You know those famous Budwieser drinking, football playing horses from the Super Bowl commercials. Well, Charlie doesn't kick field goals, but he is a sweet horse and hopefully I will begin to ride him. Amy will start riding him this week.

Amy learns to "drive"

I will admit prior to moving to Switzerland I don't think I have touched a horse since that pony ride at Kristen Kip's 5th birthday party. I think there are pictures laying around some where to prove it...me crying for the entire 5 minute excursion. I guess you can say I am pretty much a city boy, not much cowboy in this here blood. Therefore, the edited version of Amy's riding lesson is from the city boy's perspective. Enjoy!!

Hiking in the Swiss Alps Sept 7th 2008

This is a map of the hiking trip we took this past Sunday. The map was generated with the tracking feature of the GARMIN GPS unit, overlaid on a GOOGLE MAP. Click on the green triangle at the bottom to see the direction and elevation along the trail route. You can also click on the title to go to the full view of the trip, statistics, zoom in and out, etc. Pretty Cool!

Hiking Trip above Aigle 7 Sept 2008

Widget powered by EveryTrail: GPS Geotagging

Our Roommates?

Here is a video of the horses we live with on the farm.  There are 17 horses on the farm and they go out daily for some exercise before the riders come.  Here is a video of the first group heading out for their morning romp in the fields and some grazing.  They are absolutely beautiful!

Boubi is the first one out, then Hardy, next is Tonner (my favorite, the big brown and white tinker horse), then Akuba and Aricof (they are best pals), and finally Senor. 

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover...or its Stench.

I just returned from a week in Singapore, an island nation of about 4 million located 85 miles north of the equator at that southern tip of the Malay peninsula. I have a colleague, in the office here in Switzerland from Singapore. Upon learning I was headed to his home country for business, Eric began raving about the Durian fruit. 

"Oh you have to try Durian when you are in Singapore. Its the King of all fruit", he said while salivating at its thought.  For a couple of weeks leading up to the trip Eric kept on me about the Durian.  Finally, I promised him I would try his beloved fruit while visiting his home country.  "Just one thing, don't be put off by the smell.  Really it tastes nothing like it smells", he said.  I assured him I would not be put off by the smell, as I understand this concept of foul smelling, but good tasting.  There is a saying here in Switzerland "The stinkier the cheese, the better it tastes".  Some of my favorite cheeses smell pretty bad.  

During my last evening in Singapore, I told my host, I wanted to try Durian.  He thought I was joking at first, but then was pleased to find out I was not.  We grabbed a taxi from the hotel and made our way to one of the small Durian fruit stands set up in the parking lot of the restaurant district.    Durian is in season about every four months and we were lucky, as we hit the season right at its peak.  The fruit is highly prized in this part of the world for its high nutritional value and complex flavors.  The fact that it takes ten years for a Durian tree to bear fruit also adds to the mystique.  There are a number of different variations of the fruit, we would be sampling the sweet and the bitter versions.  Upon getting out of the cab the smell hit me, and we were still a good hundred feet or so from the 

stand.  The smell is a blend of rotting dumpster and day old

 vomit, very organic.   Not only is the smell less than appetizing, Durian is visually intimidating.  It is about the size of an American football covered with inch long spines and weighing between 5 and 7 pounds.  You have to hand it to the guy who first tried eating Durian, he was quite adventurous.  The fruit looks completely alien, from the dangerous spines to the fetus like insides.    Upon ordering our fruit, one of the workers grabbed a couple of plastic chairs from a stack and unfolded a table for us.  With a machete he cut open the fruit and placed it in front of us.  

Wow, the smell really hit me and my eyes started to water as I tried to maintain my composure.   Another colleague with me from Switzerland, Didier, did not even try to stay composed, he was wincing at the stench.  Inside the  halved fruit, are a few large seeds about the size of an avocado pit covered in a slimy skin.  Between the slimy skin and the seed is a custard like filling, the prize if you will.   We started with the sweet one first, I grabbed one of the seeds and quickly stuck it in my mouth sucking the meat off the seed.  It wasn't the smell that got to me as much as it was the odd custard texture.  It slides around your mouth as you try to coral it with your tongue to swallow, then spit out the large seed.  Ah, it wasn't that bad, but it wasn't that good either.  As promised it tasted nothing like it smelled, rather nutty and sweet with after note of onion.  I was ready to try the bitter one now, Didier on the other hand was done no more Durian for him.   The bitter Durian was quite different than the sweet.  It was more floral, less sweet and absent of the onion after note.  Of the two I preferred the bitter.  Come to find out many Durian aficionados also prefer the bitter over the sweet.  I would have to say, I had no strong feelings either way regarding the "King of all fruit", it neither delighted nor disgusted.  I am sure it is an acquired taste.  

My Personal Tour de France: The Freedom to Ride

As a kid I remember watching the Tour de France on the television show ABC's Wide World of Sports, before any of us new the name Lance Armstrong. It was an event that captured the imagination of a 10 year old, and was the impetus for the incessant pleading for a 10 speed bicycle. I received that bicycle the following Christmas. It was a tan Centurion, a small racing seat and black handlebar tape. I remember barely reaching the toe clip pedals. For those of you who know my Dad, realize it was bought for me to "grow into". I couldn't wait for the Christmas holiday to end, so I could ride my new bike to school and show it off. For the next 6 months I rode my bike to school everyday. On 86th Avenue, between the stop light at Oakhurst road and the Circle 'K' was my own personal "L'alpe d'huez" to conquer. Looking back it was only a small hill, maybe a couple hundred yards long and rising maybe 30 to 40 feet, but for a 10 year old with an imagination it was the King of all mountains. I struggled up it every day, testing my gear shifting abilities. That tan bike was more than just transportation to and from school, it was freedom on two wheels. That bike opened up the world beyond 86th and 125th, it took me to Dino's Pizza, the arcade and across the Park Boulevard bridge to Redington Beach. That summer, the one between elementry and middle school, my friends and I planned our own tour. Myself, Doug S., Rick B., Jason S. and Chris B. set out to leave the neighborhood behind. We made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, put Kool-Aid in our water bottles and packed some Snicker candy bars for our epic ride across town. We had to climb that hill on 86th Avenue then pass the High School where we flew down "Cemetery" hill. We then ventured where none of us had gone before without our parents in a car...Tyrone Boulevards pass the Mall. We sat on the curb and ate our sandwiches and Snicker's bars. From there we headed to old Saint Petersburg and across the Central Avenue Bridge into Treasure Island. Ahh the beach, we pulled our weary bodies off the bikes for a quick dip in the Gulf of Mexico, then it was back on our bikes down Gulf Boulevard. It was there with a strong head wind, the group began to struggle. Rick, Doug and myself had 10 speed bikes with drop bars and gears, Jason and Chris were on small one speed BMX bikes. Chris was really struggling, as he was the "big" kid of the group, you know the stocky kid who plays catcher. It was here that we employed our learnings from watching the Tour de France. Rick was always the strongest of all of us, he took the lead breaking the wind for the rest of us. We put Chris in the middle to make sure we didn't leave him behind. So with Rick pulling, Chris safely tucked away in the middle and me and Doug following up the rear we made our way back to the neighborhood. It was with that trip our small world had expanded, and with that ten speed bike I had found a new freedom.

Le Tour de France: L'alpe d'Huez

One of the first thing we did upon arriving in Switzerland was plan a week long trip in France to follow the Tour and ride our bikes through the Alps, however at the last minute our trip was cancelled by the organizers with whom we had planned our travel. After failed attempts to rebook with other bike touring companies we decided we would go it alone. The Tour de France is the most famous bicycle race in the world, spanning 2,200 miles over 23 days. The TDF was started in 1903, like with so many great ideas, as a publicity stunt...to sell news papers. For both Amy and I to watch this epic bicycle race live was an opportunity of a life time. Being only a 3 hour drive from the most epic stage, of the most epic race in the world, we would be crazy not to go. So with all of the hotels fully booked and not really sure where L'alpe d'huez was (thank goodness for GPS) we set out for France with our tent and sleeping bags.