I'm back baby! And better than ever...
As promised, here is a LONG recap of my three week vacation.
"So Lara, where the hell DID you go anyway? We've never heard of Swissland or whatever you call it"...you say.
So here are a couple of views:
From the castle in Saxon
From my friend Xavier's backyard:
On our first day there, my brother took us to the annual "comptoir" in Martigny, a big festival of sorts that goes on for a week and is just an excuse for 90% of the population to get severely plastered. I'm talking big time drinking, the sort of drinking that leaves you in a coma the next morning and makes you completely irritating to your sober friends. Hung out at the comptoir for 4 hours, the kids went on all the rides, David and Dave (my bro) drank wine, I ate some roasted chestnuts and Devyn got to ride a horse:
The next day, David and Devyn both rode a horse, just a smaller one this time:
I think I already mentioned going to a bar and David getting hit on by a midget, the only thing I forgot to mention is that said midget was a guy. David had made fun of him all night, saying he was so little he must have been a jockey, then the guy comes over and doesn't leave him alone for a good half hour. We finally had to leave the bar, while the midget screamed "U.S.A. #1!!!!" It was completely surreal...
Did I mention we went to a lot of bars? I did? Well, here is further proof. Found ourselves at the "Britannia Pub" in Martigny one afternoon, and the Daves decided to order a Guinness just to wet their palate. And from the size of the beer they got, it really was just to wet it... Talk about beer shots: this beer costs $5!!!!
On Friday the 13th, we had a birthday party for Devyn (he actually turned 3 yesterday) and a Mexican food party for a few of my brother's friends. The birthday party was insane: 10 kids under the age of 6, running around wearing Batman masks and beating the shit out of each other. You know, typical day at the Liso's Swiss compound. We also took advantage of the party to celebrate Matteo's first birthday (Dave's son). Here is a picture of the two birthday boys:
And you wanna know what Mexican food looks like when cooked by an Italian and an American in Switzerland, for a bunch of Germans? Try not to lick the screen:
Just for shits and giggles, here is a photo of my nonna frying donuts for the party: (yeah, the same nonna I saw completely naked a few days later)
It wasn't all fun and games on my trip... I had the pleasure and honor of getting a personal violin lesson from an old friend I've known since I was 12 years old, who is now an unbelievable musician. I'm not kidding, this guy plays every instrument that exists, composes amazing music, produces and even manages to be a great singer. This is the kind of guy I would beat the shit out of if he weren't my friend. I am positively jealous of his talent. And on top of his talent, he's pretty easy on the eyes...
If you have ITunes, you can hear his accomplishments with Glen of Guinness and Charlotte Parfois.
So, back to my violin lesson. I thought it would be a piece of cake, seeing how I play guitar and I am somewhat musically inclined, but... I sucked. Hard. I have never laughed so much in my life, with Xavier yelling "Quatre!" (Fourth) every few seconds to remind me to use my pinky on the strings. I got so nervous and tensed up so much, the next day I couldn't turn my head to the left and now, a week later, my neck and back are still sore. I am such a pussy it's unbelievable. Of all the instruments I've ever tried, violin is definitely the hardest to tackle. It does make me want to try again, though.
After our hour long violin lesson, we met my brother and some friends for a well-deserved tomato and cheese fondue, served on a bed of steamed potatoes. Yummy. I got just A LITTLE drunk, what with my 3 glasses of white wine, half a beer, two sips of grappa and to top it all off, a nice glass of absinthe. Yeah, I said absinthe. You know, the stuff that was forbidden for the last 80 years or so...If you've seen "Moulin Rouge", you know that's what Toulouse Lautrec used to drink to find inspiration. From what I hear, drinking too much absinthe will cause grand hallucinations and severe explosive diarrhea the next day. From what I hear. I only had one glass, but check out the contraption they serve it in:
It's really cool, right? Just a little embarrassing when the waitress brought it to our table, I felt like I was prepping to perform surgery.. What did it taste like, you ask? LIKE LIQUID CANDY! So good, like anise and licorice, with a hint of bitterness... Just heavenly! I bought a bottle to bring back last year and never opened it, but I have the feeling it will get emptied pretty fast now...
So that's it for my Swiss vacation. I already miss my mom and my brother terribly, luckily my mom and dad are coming here for Christmas, so not too long before we are reunited again.
Back soon with some more disturbing posts!
"So Lara, where the hell DID you go anyway? We've never heard of Swissland or whatever you call it"...you say.
So here are a couple of views:
From the castle in Saxon
From my friend Xavier's backyard:
On our first day there, my brother took us to the annual "comptoir" in Martigny, a big festival of sorts that goes on for a week and is just an excuse for 90% of the population to get severely plastered. I'm talking big time drinking, the sort of drinking that leaves you in a coma the next morning and makes you completely irritating to your sober friends. Hung out at the comptoir for 4 hours, the kids went on all the rides, David and Dave (my bro) drank wine, I ate some roasted chestnuts and Devyn got to ride a horse:
The next day, David and Devyn both rode a horse, just a smaller one this time:
I think I already mentioned going to a bar and David getting hit on by a midget, the only thing I forgot to mention is that said midget was a guy. David had made fun of him all night, saying he was so little he must have been a jockey, then the guy comes over and doesn't leave him alone for a good half hour. We finally had to leave the bar, while the midget screamed "U.S.A. #1!!!!" It was completely surreal...
Did I mention we went to a lot of bars? I did? Well, here is further proof. Found ourselves at the "Britannia Pub" in Martigny one afternoon, and the Daves decided to order a Guinness just to wet their palate. And from the size of the beer they got, it really was just to wet it... Talk about beer shots: this beer costs $5!!!!
On Friday the 13th, we had a birthday party for Devyn (he actually turned 3 yesterday) and a Mexican food party for a few of my brother's friends. The birthday party was insane: 10 kids under the age of 6, running around wearing Batman masks and beating the shit out of each other. You know, typical day at the Liso's Swiss compound. We also took advantage of the party to celebrate Matteo's first birthday (Dave's son). Here is a picture of the two birthday boys:
And you wanna know what Mexican food looks like when cooked by an Italian and an American in Switzerland, for a bunch of Germans? Try not to lick the screen:
Just for shits and giggles, here is a photo of my nonna frying donuts for the party: (yeah, the same nonna I saw completely naked a few days later)
It wasn't all fun and games on my trip... I had the pleasure and honor of getting a personal violin lesson from an old friend I've known since I was 12 years old, who is now an unbelievable musician. I'm not kidding, this guy plays every instrument that exists, composes amazing music, produces and even manages to be a great singer. This is the kind of guy I would beat the shit out of if he weren't my friend. I am positively jealous of his talent. And on top of his talent, he's pretty easy on the eyes...
If you have ITunes, you can hear his accomplishments with Glen of Guinness and Charlotte Parfois.
So, back to my violin lesson. I thought it would be a piece of cake, seeing how I play guitar and I am somewhat musically inclined, but... I sucked. Hard. I have never laughed so much in my life, with Xavier yelling "Quatre!" (Fourth) every few seconds to remind me to use my pinky on the strings. I got so nervous and tensed up so much, the next day I couldn't turn my head to the left and now, a week later, my neck and back are still sore. I am such a pussy it's unbelievable. Of all the instruments I've ever tried, violin is definitely the hardest to tackle. It does make me want to try again, though.
After our hour long violin lesson, we met my brother and some friends for a well-deserved tomato and cheese fondue, served on a bed of steamed potatoes. Yummy. I got just A LITTLE drunk, what with my 3 glasses of white wine, half a beer, two sips of grappa and to top it all off, a nice glass of absinthe. Yeah, I said absinthe. You know, the stuff that was forbidden for the last 80 years or so...If you've seen "Moulin Rouge", you know that's what Toulouse Lautrec used to drink to find inspiration. From what I hear, drinking too much absinthe will cause grand hallucinations and severe explosive diarrhea the next day. From what I hear. I only had one glass, but check out the contraption they serve it in:
It's really cool, right? Just a little embarrassing when the waitress brought it to our table, I felt like I was prepping to perform surgery.. What did it taste like, you ask? LIKE LIQUID CANDY! So good, like anise and licorice, with a hint of bitterness... Just heavenly! I bought a bottle to bring back last year and never opened it, but I have the feeling it will get emptied pretty fast now...
So that's it for my Swiss vacation. I already miss my mom and my brother terribly, luckily my mom and dad are coming here for Christmas, so not too long before we are reunited again.
Back soon with some more disturbing posts!
posted by Lara at 8:34 AM
21 Comments:
Cazzo, David sembra sempre di piu' quello dei Simpson !!!
Homer Simpson??? Adesso ti spacca il culo...
bon, cette leçon de violon pour moi c'était pas si terrible. je fais ça depuis 20 ans, et j'ai vu défiler pas mal de débutants, je trouve que tu t'en tirais pas mal du tout, mais je dois avouer que j'avais encore jamais vu quelqu'un RIRE autant avec un violon dans les pattes... à mon avis c'est à cause de ça que tu as eu mal à la nuque...
ce qui m'a le plus impressionné c'est la sueur qui coulait le long de ton visage au bout de 10 minutes...
comme je t'ai déjà dit, pour une perfectionniste absolue comme toi, l'apprentissage du violon serait une excellente thérapie.
on y pensera pour ta prochaine visite, mmh?
eh, j'ai vu que tu appelles le 4è doigt "pinky"
c'est sympa, mais comment s'appellent les autres?
The others are called Samantha, Heather and Bob.
No seriously, they are called pointing finger, middle finger and ring finger (American English is SOOOO original).
I'm pretty sure my neck hurt from being so nervous around you, it had nothing to do with the fact I was laughing like a moron.
Glad to see you haven't lost hope with me. Are you really willing to give me another lesson? Keep in mind it will be at your own risk...
I cracked open the bottle of absinthe last night, Dave and I shared a glass and got positively drunk. I think I went a little too heavy with the alcohol and not enough water...
And by the way, I was sweating like a pig 'cause the temperature in your house was a bazillion degrees, not for anything else...
aaahh, écoute, ici c'est l'hiver, hein, on chauffe, et quand on chauffe au bois, parfois c'est difficile de réguler la température, ça dépend de ce que tu mets dans le fourneau, du sapin, de la vigne, du mélèze, enfin, tu comprends...
bon j'avoue: j'ai volontairement chauffé comme un âne dans le but qu'au bout d'un moment tu me dises d'un air innocent: "ah ce qu'il fait chaud par ici, dis donc je vais enlever mon porte-jarretelles et mettre mon sombrero"
mais je dois avouer que le violon, surtout lors d'une Première Leçon, ça ne porte pas tellement à la bagatelle...
désolé que ça t'ait fait si mal!
Sorry, I was just having a telephone discussion with my mother, debating my obvious and forced use of curse words on my blog...She particularly did not enjoy my last post about my reality show. It was just a joke!
So anyway, here I am.
Justement, le jour de notre lecon, je portais (par hasard) mes plus jolies culottes et mon soutien-gorge le plus sexy, mais je n'ais pas eu l'occasion de te les montrer... J'avoue avoir pense pour quelques instant de m'enlever au moins mon t-shirt, j'avais l'impression d'etouffer... De toutes manieres, j'avais oublie le sombrero a la maison et tu ne m'as pas fait voir la casquette M47 et le chapeau melon, donc je n'avais rien pour me couvrir la tete et mes "melons". T'es vraiment pas sympa, t'aurais pu faire quelque chose pour m'aider...
Bon, choses plus serieuses... Je suis rentree avec 4 kilos de melange fondue. Je veux faire la fondue au tomates, mais je n'ais aucune idee. T'as pas la recette?
ah ça c'est con! la M47 était dans l'armoire, chez moi... le chapeau melon, par contre il est à Sierre, il fait partie de mon costume de scène avec Charlotte parfois...
bon alors pour les culottes, ... euh attends... pour la fondue aux tomates, il y a deux manières de faire.
1. prépare une sauce tomate, et ça, je suppose qu'en tant qu'italienne ça ne te pose pas de problème. pour la quantité, essaie juste d'imaginer ce que ça va donner une fois que tu l'auras mélangée avec le fromage. la consistance... ça doit être assez liquide, mais pas comme de la flotte. enfin je te fais confiance.
ensuite tu fabriques la fondue normale (gousse d'ail etc...), avec seulement le fromage, ça tu sais faire, je pense, et quand ça cuit tu ajoute délicatement la sauce tomate.
2. tu fais revenir les tomates dans le caquelon avec un peu moins de vin blanc que pour une fondue normale (comme dans les tomates y a déjà plein de jus), tu assisonnes comme pour une sauce tomate normale, et quand ça cuit tu ajoutes gentiment le mélange de fromage, en remuant pour que ça se mélange bien.
je pense que la première solution est plus facile, il faut juste doser les liquides comme il faut.
BONNE CHANCE!!!
je suis en pensée avec toi et je t'envoie plein de bonnes ondes (goude vaïbze) pour ta fondue
des questions?
T'es par hasard au Cafe du Midi toi? Ils t'ont refile leur recette, ou c'est l'orginale recette Xavier?
Je pense que tes instructions sont parfaites, the fondue party c'est dans trois semaines avec 25 personnes qui travaillent avec mon mari, je ferais un test avant pour essayer... La seule chose qui manqueras sera toi. Pour les culottes: elles etaient noires, en dentelles et transparentes. Mais pas un tanga, j'ai horreur de sentir cette odieuse ficelle entre mes fesses. Je t'envoye un dessin.
des tanga avec une ficelle, ici, on appelle ça des strings, non? c'est une question d'habitude. je trouve pas ça si désagréable que ça...
pour la recette, je préfère la deuxième. c'est plus typiquement valaisan. c'est celle de ma maman et du patron du café du Midi. l'autre (celle de la patronne) on dirait un mix avec la cuisine italienne... elle est plus simple et plus efficace. mais bon, j'aime la sauce tomate, et la cuisine italienne, je suis pas sectaire. mais faut pas mélanger les torchons et les serviettes.
Pourquoi, tu portes le string toi? Je passe deja toute ma journee a m'enlever le slip d'entre mes fesses, si je mettais un string...Bon, je porte pas non plus les culottes a grand-mere, celles qui arrivent jusqu'a dessus les nichons, genre culottes/soutien-gorge incorpores. Je porte les slips qui te font le derriere comme ca ( | )
Alors je ferais la deuxieme recette, en l'honneur du fameux Cafe du Midi.
Here we call it a string BIKINI, for underwear, it's called a T-BACK. Always trying to help increase your vocabulary and knowledge of English. Might need to use it someday...
c'est fantastique!!!
si je comprends bien, on dit un T-shirt, à cause de la barre horizontale du "T" et on dit un T-back à cause de la barre verticale!!!
j'adore la langue! et toute l'utilisation qu'on peut en faire...!
bon... je te remercie pour ces précisions culottières...
mais ça m'avance pas à grand'chose...
note que t'as pas vu mes strings non plus...
Mais oui j'ai vu ton string! Il etait pendu dehors avec le reste de ton linge propre, le jour que je suis venue chez toi! Euh...enfin, je crois que c'etait un string...
We call it a T-SHIRT, because the actual shirt is in the shape of a T. A T-BACK is because of the intersecting horizontal and vertical line between your butt cheeks. Like this: ( T ). Just looking at that is painful. My derriere looks more like this, with my undies on: ( W ). or even like this: ( Y )...Wait, that's the front, I got confused... Whoaaaaa....I'm an artist.
Yeah, I know, don't I have anything better to do than to write stupidities on my blog??? Well, Devyn is asleep, I've done all my daily chores and frankly, I'm bored.
ah nom de dieu! si personne n'y a pensé avant toi, ta fortune est faite!
(sur l'étendage l'autre jour je suis pas sûr que c'était mes strings...)
I just noticed that my ass is so big, when I drew it, the left cheek (from the front) takes up the whole page.
Juste une petite question: pourquoi il t'enerve mon mari?
mais il m'énerve pas du tout, où vas-tu chercher ça?
au contraire, je le trouve bien sympathique! et drôle!
de quoi remplir largement toute une vie, quoi...
Quoi, tu me l'as dit au moins quatre fois le jour qu'on a mange la fondue ensemble!
Bon, t'en fais pas, il enerve beacoup de gens, il a un sense d'humour qui est un peu different...
Et tu te fout encore de ma gueule! Merci, c'est tres gentil!
mais je me fous pas de ta gueule! au contraire!
pour une fois que j'essaie de parler sérieusement
Alors, j'avais mal compris...Je m'excuse...
je crois que je vais m'acheter un violon pour Noel... ou pour mon anniversaire. Comme ca la prochaine fois qu'on se voit, on peut faire un duet.
quand je dis "I m'énerve" c'est une façon de parler... c'est pour riiiiire! je trouve qu'il est très charmant, drôle, et c'est joli de voir une réelle complicité entre toi et lui. la seule chose qui m'énerve, c'est que vu mon anglais misérable, même si je comprends ce qui se dit autour de la table, je peux pas participer... j'ai tellement pris l'habitude de conversations multilingues (on te parle en suisse-allemand ou en anglais et tu réponds en français)... ça ne marche QUE si la personne en face de toi comprend le français autant que toi tu comprends son language...
ce qui n'est apparemment pas le cas de ton mari... on peut pas lui en vouloir, je pense qu'avant de te connaître, comme beaucoup d'américains, il ignorait l'existence d'un lointain et légendaire pays comme la Suisse...
fais-lui un gros bec de ma part!
Where would you like me to kiss him?
Mon mari a horreur du Francais, il a essaye de l'apprendre quand on habitait a Saxon en '95, mais il a appris plus d'Italien que de Francais... Especially bad words, like porca puttana, vaffanculo and testa di cazzo.
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