Friday 2 October

Friday, 2 October

Nyon or the European Shopping Trip

Today we ventured back into the city of Nyon, staying close behind as our guide, Swiss Cammy Herbison, led the way in their car. Ian had begged off on some weak excuse of a work deadline or that he had had enough of his in-laws and his own Mother, Father and aunt Gina, all of whom had taken over his last couple of days.

We headed out of our rustic, safe, pastoral farm scene into the lunacy of frenzied drivers in a city who’s motto seems to be, “Recevez l'enfer outa ma voie!” which means, “Get the hell outa the way!” Their code of road behaviour is survival of the fittest.

I didn’t know where we were going. Once in the bowels of the Mall’s underground parking I didn’t know where we were and later, as I tentatively first-geared our way to back up to daylight and the domain of the berserk, I hadn’t the foggiest about where we had been. Kinda like Columbus on his first transatlantic trip. But don’t get me started on what the car does to the Swiss population in general. The German people, not known for their vehicular-restraint, just gave up, turned the entire country in one long race-track, removed all speed limits, called it the autobahn and let’er rip! The Swiss take their cues from their, for want of a better word, weird, cultural background. In Canada we have two official languages. Switzerland has four, three if you don’t count one of them, which many don’t. We are considered by many other nations to be a touch strange for our bilingual policy. With a quad-lingual strategy the Swiss are downright dangerous. Their army is in the Vatican. They couldn’t come up with a national flag so they stole the one from the Red Cross Society, reversed the red cross on white background to white cross on a red background and slung it up the pole. But it is the arena of the automobile where their zaniness comes to the forefront. Meet a citizen in the street, a bar or shop and you couldn't meet a friendlier, courteous person in the world. Shove that same citizen in behind the wheel and you’ve got … let me put it this way, Michael Schumacher, the world famous Formula One driver lives in Glook – pronounced ‘Glonh!’ ‘nuff said. Petrol fumes (Gasoline) react in them like the mad Doctor Jekyll’s famous tipple, producing a Mr. Hyde-on-wheels. Five minutes earlier he or she, gender makes no never mind in this illustration, had probably just given you a pleasant, “Good day.” Now jammed in behind the steering thingy, Mr. or Mrs. Pleasant Swiss Citizen is now glaring in anger while beeping the tinny tricycle horn all European cars have as standard equipment. You are now a bug to be squashed. And that’s all the way to the mall. Luckily for us, we had a guide and made it down into the parking garage with only a year or so taken of our lives.

Dinner was at Cam and Ian’s with Aunt Gina providing the food, cooking utensils, appliances and even a couple of chairs. Brian, Kate and Bev brought the wine. Bev’s bottle came from the farm and she stole it. I have since reported the theft and it will go on her bill.

We were introduced to a meal known as a ‘Pierrade’. This is your basic survival cooking-- flat rocks, fire, thinly sliced animals (deceased), copious amounts of wine.

The Pierrade style of dining was originally developed during a lull in the well-known technological advance which occurred just after the high period of Neanderthal civilization. The lull was a ten year period between the years 600,000–350,000 BC, (BC in this instance meaning ‘Before Cooking’.)

It epitomized the culture of open-fire cuisine. Luckily for us, we didn’t need to build two small fires on the dining room table, top them off with a bunch of flat rocks, let them heat to a finger-melting temperature then slam the meat onto the rocks, sizzle it a bit then dip the morsels in a variety of condiments and sauces.

The heating apparatus that replaced the open fire on the table top, arrived with the advent of electricity and no doubt saved a lot of tables, was the plug-in Pierrade, we used two. Bev and I liked the idea so much that the next day we went online and ordered our own Pierrade. It will be waiting, along with the cat for our return. And no, the cat is not on the menu.