Arriving in Zurich...

When we applied for our resident's permit, the lady there got very confused about our first names, last names and marriage names. We ended up getting these names on our temporary passes. I told Lionel this is probably the only time he'd have his name married to mine.

I am surprised too that there is still this expectation that I take on my husband's surname in a modern city like Zurich. A banker opening our account at UBS congratulated me on my pregnancy. Somewhere ten minutes later in friendly conversation, he asked if we were planning to get married. *Griin* He later revealed that he had assumed we were not married because I was not sharing Lionel's family name.

We could not move in earlier to the serviced apartment as almost every housing contract here starts on the 1st of the month.

As such, we spent our first few days, which happened to be the last three days of June,  living in a budget hotel in the red light district, Langstrasse (whose name even resembles Singapore's red light district, Geylang). The small unit at EasyHotel had the bare minimal -- only one bed and an aeroplane size toilet plus a shower area. There were no side tables, dressing table or even a chair in the room. There was, however, a television, which we could have access to by paying 5 francs in exchange for the remote control. To the envy of all Singaporeans, that 5 francs gave us access to the World Cup.

I can't recall which Latin American country won during those few days. The streets were filled with jubilant shouting and honking in celebration. Being on the second level (what they call the first floor here) certainly did not help us get over our jet lag.

It was also so warm and there was no form of ventilation in the room. So we had to have the windows opened, but alas the windows kept swinging shut. So we had to improvise by wedging the rubbish bin at the window to keep it open.

In the red light district, most inhabitants are not native Swiss. Most of the affordable food we could find there were kebabs and Indian food -- which was pretty much our diet for those couple of days.

This take-out meal of tandoori chicken cost about 10 francs.

The portion here is surprisingly not huge. In fact, the Indian food here comes in smaller portions than what we get for Indian food in Singapore.

On another day, we had takeout from the major supermarket chain, Coop. Coop and Migros are, respectively, like the Cold Storage and Fairprice of Singapore. But because eating out here is rare, most people do grocery shopping as a daily activity. So stores from these two chains are found at almost every alternate tram/bus stop in the city area.

This meal was recommended as a cheaper meal alternative. Yet, the pasta with cream and mushrooms cost us 9 francs, while six chicken nuggets cost 4 francs, and a pathetic calzone with only cheese inside was another 2.80 francs.

Oh, and finally, you can never have too much of McDonalds' when all else seems foreign. McDonalds', in spite of its evil empire and all, never fails to warm my tummy and my heart when I am in a foreign land. It's consistency and predictability (afterall, a "cheeseburger" can be ordered in any country speaking any language) always provides a place of refuge for my displaced sense of being.

After several days in Zurich, McDonalds' was the first to provide us with a drink that included ice. In the heat of summer, Lionel was so touched by such a gesture that he could not resist the urge to get a second ice tea, shortly after he had savoured the first cup with more passion than he regularly embraces me with.