More Big Deliveries before the Grand One

Guess what made me so happy on Friday when I was, for the first time in Zurich, left all alone at night because Lionel had an office party to attend?

Our Dell Desktop finally arrived after a 1.5 month wait! No more sharing of my small ThinkPad in the evenings with Lionel. No more lousy laptop speakers when we watch our cheap DVDs from Germany. Instead, I now have a huge screen to do my blogging, Facebooking, weather checking, 1000-word e-mail reply writing and prenatal Yoga-ing from.

I spent what would have been a lonely miserable evening taking my time to set up the whole PC, and forgetting about my dinner. Say hello to my new 24-inch screen. We would never have had such a big screen if not for the fact that we're doubling this screen as our TV for movie screenings. We decided that it wasn't worth getting a TV here because there is more or less only BBC we can watch that is in English, and we did not need an additional TV license fee added to our monthly bills. especially when we do not have time to watch TV anyway. Also, Lionel's workplace has two of these big screens attached to his desktop. You know, the kind where he can click and drag a window from one monitor to another, and where his mouse can suddenly cross the air space to the next monitor...

Before the Dell delivery, we had another big delivery all the way from Singapore! Lionel's Mum excitedly bought a lot of clothes and baby-related stuff for our dear Gaby. She had them flown over to us by their SIA pilot friend who was A380ing to Zurich. My own mum threw in 2 tubs of Body Shop Body Butter that I bought at almost half price in Singapore too.

Can you spot the difference? I took the first photo without realising my belly had been caught in the shot. Then I remembered the old Nokia phone that we requested from Singapore as well., and included it to take another shot. 

With this spare phone shell, I can put in my Singtel SIM card and leave it on. Now our dear friends and family in Singapore can SMS us and pay local Singapore rates. This is all in preparation for the Big Day when well wishers want to shout us to us from Singapore.

While I am on the topic of Gaby and preparations for her, see the state of her cupboard! It's a little messy now, and it has gotten more filled up with Gaby's new clothes, bedlinen and swaddling cloths from my MIL (mudder-in-law) since this photo was captured. I definitely underestimated the size of Gaby's wardrobe. Lionel and I are now looking for how to increase storage space so that my Mum can put her clothes comfortably when she comes over for three months to help me out. (Aren't Mummies so wonderful?)

We have relocated some of Gaby's stuff to our wardrobe to make room. Since diapers are something she would definitely grow into and will consume faster than she digests milk, we've been stocking up on Size 2, 3, and 4 Pampers when they are on Aktion (sale) here. We save about 30-40% with these buys.

Ah, and we haven't updated you with our, well, some would say obiang or gaudy hall curtains. Lionel and I love colours, and since we probably will not be able to afford sending Gaby to playschool here, we wanted to make home as visually stimulating as possible with bright colours and pictures.

|I see myself carrying Gaby around the house and talking to her about the pictures on the curtains as a daily routine before she starts talking and when she is at the stage where she is content to just being talked to...

Rant of a Beached Whale

This is what I feel like when I lie in bed these days at 32 weeks.

It is increasingly hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in where I do not feel the weight of Gaby and my uterus suffocating me or causing backaches.

I had a rather sleepless night last night with both Lionel and Gaby kneeing me through the night. And I believe Gaby broke her first hicupping record. Her hicupping spasms at 3am lasted almost a good 10 minutes! So by the time she was done, I was wide awake.

While Lionel cannot wait to manufacture number 2, I need a break from this whole labour of  childbearing. The thing about pregnancy, as I have come to realised, is that it really eats a whole year of your physical freedom away. Of course there is the lifetime of parenthood, but at least physically, I am so tightly bound to this little creature and the societal expectations of what I should and what I cannot do while with child.

First begins the vulnerable first trimester where the chances of miscarriage are extremely high and I am obliged to really take care of myself. No fitness classes or massage spas would take you in before your first trimester is over. And do not forget morning sickness, bloatedness, nausea, reactions to strong smells -- and hell, not automatically being able to justify the paunch-like bulk just yet.

Then the second trimester -- the supposedly heavenly one -- where I really start growing out of my clothes and go through puberty again, scouring for bras that fit, and resigning to the fact that Triumph would spare me no feelings in labeling me an XL in the underwear department. And while most of decent society would allow you to resume watered down fitness regimes, my changing centre of gravity dictates that I be more careful not to trip or slip. It is an arduous concentration exercise walking down a flight of stairs to ensure I do not miss a step.

And then there's the third trimester of being humongous and beached. In a few more weeks, it will be a waiting game. Will she come early at 37-38 weeks as I have heard many babies do? Will she come before my mother arrives? Has Lionel made all the arrangements for emergency transport and parking? Will I be able to do a natural birth? Are there going to be medical students looking on in horror at my labour? Will the nurse with me speak and understand my English? Have we really gotten everything ready?

And in the fourth quarter of the pregnancy year after the baby pops, that is when I am confined to 2-3 hour cycles and regiments of breastfeeding and diaper changing. No long trips out, no long dinner events...

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I am surprised I have not ballooned all over. The voluminous growth has largely been visibly confined to the belly area, although my sister-in-law would beg to differ. She insisted she could tell I'm pregnant from the expansion of my previously-also-not-very-humble rear. Well, at least I have a credible counterweight to the rear now -- so, come to think of it, I should effectively have a more stable centre of gravity with pregnancy. 

And while the marginal growth has been substantial in the mammary department (considering that I started out with a negative value), the visible final outcome is, well, still pretty modest.

At 31 weeks (last week)

Although I have been fortunate not to be inflicted with the common banes of pregnancy -- swollen feet, backaches and regular leg cramps -- my below-the-navel tummy has nonetheless succumbed to stretchmarks. Soon after I entered the third trimester, they started out inconspicuously as a little bruise like mark. Lionel spotted it first and we thought it was a bruise from my clumsy bumpings around the house and opening of fridge doors into my belly. 

But after a quiet embryonic stage that lasted but just a few days, it grew with great vehemence, spreading  its dark red streaks out, upwards like insidious roots claiming territory. And I thought being a young mother would spare me the physical tribulations of pregnancy. Alas, I have not been blessed with my own mother's good genes, who despite delivering us well into her late thirties, does not have a single stretchmark as evidence of childbearing.

I was just mentioning to my sister in an e-mail how I enjoy the part about growing up and adulthood where one stops caring so much about what people think. I am still confidently donning a bikini (because maternal swimwear is ridiculously overpriced and really, bikinis are the staple for any sort of age and figure here) when I go swimming. It may be that some of my confidence and oblivion stems from the fact that I cannot see my own stretchmarks from where my eyes sit, now that my belly is a huge sphere and I cannot see whatever is south of the protruding naval equator.

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And here ends my 837-word rant of a beached whale. (There isn't enough social interaction here for me to finish my weekly word quota. And I can't let Lionel bear all of it, can I? So here you are, dear faithful friends and readers to share the load. Thank you for following my blog.)

Additions to the Home (no, addition isn't Gaby yet)

Guess what arrived last week? Kekeke.. the 20kg box we shipped via SingPost before we left for Zurich. It sailed the seas for about nine weeks before arriving in this state. I'm glad we kiasu-ly did the Scotchtape reinforcements all round the box. I am a little stunned though at the number of stamps the post office put on the box. Surely there is a more efficient way of indicating S$120 worth of postage?

What did we have in this box?

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  A slow cooker that was given to us by my mates at NIE (National Institute of Education) for our (Singapore) housewarming
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  Lionel's Food of China cookbook, which he swears he survived his four years in the US with
• 
  
  Two baby carriers kindly donated by Lionel's cousin, Hwee Ling, and my friend, Saiful
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  Two big vacuum packed bags of winter clothing for Gaby, mostly donated by Hwee Ling too
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  Cartoon-print reusable cloth diapers for Gaby we bought at a baby fair in Singapore -- I thought I could do my part for the environment since I have the luxury of being a stay-home Mum (but allow me to update you with the reality of reusable diapers several months from now)
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  Hehe.. a packet of pads -- I know Zurich should be more advanced and well-equipped than Singapore, but I couldn't help putting that in to give me peace of mind
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  Lots of Watson's pocket tissue packets to pad the slow cooker 

When Lionel went to collect the box in the morning, guess whom he got waylaid by? An elderly lady from the Jehovah's Witness. I am certain it is the same team attacking Asians, especially Chinese looking Asians. I had a couple of women from the sect knocking on my door and ching-chong-ing me in Chinese several weeks back just because we had a Heng and Chen on our door label. These are the publications they try to hand out to people they evangelise to.

After my incident with them at my door the last round, Lionel and I went to read up a bit more about them. Apparently, they are an organisation with very tight social control and norms. Members are obliged to fulfil a quota of new believers they bring in, and it is very hard to leave the group. They do not mix much with non-believers also. Even when I told them I was a Presbyterian, they were still trying to convert me to their particular brand of Christianity.

Jehovah's Witness is a Christian sect banned in Singapore and several other countries because they do not carry arms -- i.e. males in Jehovah's Witness, for religious reasons, would refuse to participate in our compulsory National Service.

Ah, the third mop stick I have broken in my mopping life of six years. I must have some superhuman upper body strength, or these aluminium sticks just aren't made to last.

Our loot from the second trip to Konstanz last weekend! German prices (way better than what we get in Switzerland) plus duty free shopping!  We have enough toiletries, natal supplements, highlighters, colourful Stabilo soft-tip pens, imitation Post-it notes and cleaning detergent to last us at least next six months. *rubs Aunty-hands gleefully* Can you spot the new mop stick?

I had to buy new highlighters because I fell asleep while doing my German homework one day with my highlighter caps detached. And unlike in Singapore, the humidity here is lower, so that sapped the life of my highlighters.

And more stuff for Gaby:

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  The cheapest car seat we could find (since we already splurged so much on the baby vehicle they call the pram, and since we are not planning on yet owning a car)
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  Yellow cot pads to prevent Gaby from bumping her head on the bars of the cot
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  A waterproof sheet for the mattress
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  A baby nail clipper (which really is no different from an adult nail clipper, except for the plasticky colourful add-ons which supposedly makes it more ergonomic for cutting baby finger nails -- oh, curse the profit-making baby industry that feeds on naive parents' excitement and trust!)
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  Pacifiers -- for crying emergencies. I hope not to use them, but at the same time, my own mother has taught me to be less idealistic. And baby books (at least the ones I am reading) are quite sympathetic to the use of pacifiers and reassure me that my child will not end up having buck-teeth nor remain addicted to it past societal norms of the pacifier-totting age
• 
  
  That white dress looking item is what they call a sleeper. I would probably never have heard of that if I had not been living in this winter-susceptible country. Apparently, you are not supposed to put any pillows, blankets or loose items in the cot when the baby's small because they increase the risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. So how do you cover the baby in winter then? The sleeper is a stiff padded dress you wear over the baby while she's sleeping in the cot. Since it is stiff, it is less likely to get entangled in baby's face, neck and limbs.

And this ends my themeless update for now!

Dear Gaby

Dear Gaby,

It will be about 10 weeks before you pop out. I can feel your increasing muscular strength as you make yourself comfortable in my uterus, elbowing, kneeing, heeling me. Unlike in many areas of my life, I have no control over when you would move and cause a ripple over my tummy. And that makes your being, and more importantly, your individuality, more real than before.

I cannot wait for you to arrive. I don't know what you're going to bring to this world, or at least to Daddy and Mummy's world as we know it. In all sorts of baby books, we've been warned that you're going to turn our lives upside down. And ironically, we cannot wait for that. I do not know what physical and personality traits you are going to inherit from us -- two also very different individuals. I do not know what antics and perspectives you're going to surprise us with as you, without even trying to or realising it, teach us about life.

As I write this now, you've started another bout of hiccups in my belly again. It feels like a really strong regular heartbeat -- like the pulsations I feel through my whole body after a sprint -- but only much slower. You really must have Daddy's genes. I am sure I will tell you at some point in your life how amused I am that your Daddy seems to be the only person I know who can hiccup in his sleep and not even rouse from that.

Your impending arrival is getting us all excited -- not just Dad and I, but Grandmama, Nek Nek, Uncle Jo, Aunty Cui and all other interested friends and relatives around us.

Uncle Jo is a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew and quite recently, a brother-in-law. But you are going to make him an uncle very soon -- a new role he appears to be very thrilled about. In fact, he is planning to make two trips all the way to Switzerland from the US during his upcoming school vacation, just to see how his new and only niece (for now) is doing. Uncle Jo, I hear, is very good with babies and children. He is also a very good cook. He has a good brain and is studying very hard now to be a doctor or professor one day.

Aunty Cui is also excited about your coming. You are going to be her new experiment. She is now passionately studying Speech Therapy in Brisbane and she learns all about the development of speech in children. But Aunty Cui is also a very practical person -- like all us Chens/Lims are. She knows everyone is going to be thrilled with the novelty of having a new baby in the family and how they are getting you all sorts of 0-6 months clothes and accessories. Aunty Cui has told me she'd hence get you stuff that you can grow into when you're way past 1 year old and those gifts start dwindling.

Nek Nek is Daddy's mummy. She has already bought you some 5kg worth of clothes and baby necessities in Singapore. Grandmama will bring it up to Zurich when she comes in early October -- hopefully comfortably before your arrival. Nek Nek didn't look so excited when we told her you were starting your journey into the world some seven months ago. However, the realisation has grown onto her and the last I spoke to her on the phone, she was really really excited. She teaches primary school children in her home several times a week. She is not going to take on any more students soon in anticipation of the new little "rabbits" (as she calls all of you born this year) she will take under her wings in four years to come. Nek Nek loves teaching children and takes great pride in it. You will be spending a lot of time with her when we return to Singapore and Mummy has to go back to work.

Grandmama is Mummy's mummy. Grandmama had Mummy when she was much much older than I am now. She gave birth to me when she was 37. Because she was an older parent, experienced in life and established in her career, she brought Aunty Cui and I up with all the wisdom of her age. Grandmama is a really cool mummy herself, bringing us to the theatre and musicals even before we were in primary school, and never quite telling us what to do. She did get her message across, but never in a top down way. Aunty Cui and I have great mother-daughter relationships with her, and we talk to her like a friend. (I hope you and I will have that as well.)

While Grandmama didn't let Mummy do many what she considered high-risk activities (like roller-blading, skiiing, ice-skating, or scuba-diving), she actually let me go to Primary 1 without knowing how to read. I am afraid I don't have the same confidence in going so easy on you though. And even if I did, Nek Nek will push you hard to make sure you are reading and doing your times table by the age of 5, just as how she did with her two now very academically successful sons. I am certain that Nek Nek will also be the one who is going to teach you Chinese since Daddy speaks or recognises none of it, and Mummy is probably better at German now than she has ever been with the Chinese language.

Daddy is the nicest man in the world -- that's why I married him. OK, of course, you'd know a thing or two about opinions, exaggerations and perspectives in time to come. So Daddy may not be the only nicest man in the world, but I am sure, as he is to me, he will be to you. I can imagine you being one of those lucky girls who are not ashamed to tell your friends that your Daddy's a really nice man. He will definitely make you Daddy's girl -- but you are not to bully him, promise?

Daddy is a very patient man -- but he can be very impatient in some areas. He likes to get some things done really fast. Do you know Daddy got his Masters before he turned 24? And barely had I outgrown my wedding hair highlights did I find myself pregnant with you. Even now, before you're out, Daddy's planning for no. 2 already and when to increase my insurance coverage here so that we could deliver no. 2 here by water birth. Well, dear Gaby, not that I am complaining. Setting up our family is a priority both Daddy and I share.

In the past month, Daddy's been busy setting up your room for you. We've got you a basic but decent cot with a good mattress, a luxurious pram and a comfortable car seat for our occasional trips when Daddy feels in the mood to rent a car and drive up somewhere. Daddy becomes an advertiser's dream when we go baby shopping. He wants to get you so many things that you probably won't be able to use till you are at least six months old. I tell him to wait so we can bring you and you can show us what you are interested in.

Mummy, at the age of 25 now, doesn't have the benefit of all the years and experience of Grandmama. However, I do have the energy that a young Nek Nek had when she had Daddy 27 years ago. And because Daddy is doing his PhD here in Zurich, I am by these circumstances, removed from Singapore and my very busy teaching job. That equation comes up to you getting a full-time Mummy for the first four years of your life in quite a nice city with four pleasant and not-so-pleasant seasons.

You will realise how much a privilege this is for us, given that most graduate women automatically feel obligated by societal norms to go all out in the work force and be financially independent. I am sure, by your time, you would feel this pressure even more. Mummy is still getting used to not earning and saving her own money, after doing so for the past 9 years giving lots of tuition and teaching. However, I think that life, especially work-life, is getting longer these days with active ageing and delayed retirements. Yet even with medical advancements, reproductive years have not increased by the same proportion. Therefore, Mummy thinks it ok to take a hiatus early in my career to bring you, and Toby and whoever comes along, up well first. If life goes well, we'll have many years ahead to enjoy one another's company.

Many of Daddy and Mummy's contemporaries put off having children (or even getting married) any time soon, because they feel they aren't quite ready financially or emotionally. However, I don't think anyone is ever ready to be a parent. The ironic thing is that you have to be a parent itself to get you any closer to that elusive Masters in Parenting. And even then, as you will discover in your teenage years, parents are never perfect.

What a long first letter to you, my baby. Mummy's in this writing mood now because it is close to 11am here in Zurich and Daddy's still sleeping -- a luxury he will most likely be willing to sacrifice from the point you come crying into this world.

Love,

Your Mummy

The Saturday Trip to Luzern (from the Whale's view)

There are always at least two sides to a story. (=

I was craving for something sweet upon our arrival in Luzern. It took what seemed like a long time before I could get my ice-cream, so while Lionel was queuing up for our 2x 32 Francs roundtrip cable car tickets, I started munching on my kweh. It's like the chewy coloured layered kweh you get in Bengawang Solo, only in green and white layers and less lemak (coconuty). I got this the day before from an Asian supermarket near where I take my German classes. Yummy...

It wasn't long before we spotted Ben & Jerry's ice-cream. Oohhh.. I had already satisfied my sweet-item craving, but American Ben & Jerry's in Switzerland? A must have.

Yes, there was this couple who boarded the tiny cable car with us. They were probably very civic-minded and wanted to save space, but arghhers... This reminded me of the time Lionel and I were up the Singapore Flyer during off-peak hours, and we almost had a whole cabin to ourselves, but alas, a giggling teenage girl and two guys obviously both infatuated with her, jumped in with us just before the doors closed. And the cabin after us was totally empty throughout that 15-20 minute ride.

So back to our little cable car, this 4-seater enclosed space was way too small for strangers. There was a lack of oxygen, cool air and well, eye movement comfort.

 

There! Enough of my photos on Lionel's entry. This is what I see for most of the journey up with Lionel seated opposite me and me trying to keep my gaze on his side so I don't look like I am gazing lovingly at the woman next to him.

Ah.. our journey back down was a lot more comfortable. Look at how contented I am spreading my two pregnant butt cheeks over the spacious bench. (This shot reminds me of Singapore Idol Olinda Cho's "before" picture in the slimming advertisement. All I need is a tight fitting top to show off the spare tyres -- or in this case, the single big bus tyre of Gaby.)

The next shot reminds me of what we did in Sentosa at the MegaZip. I can't wait to get on this once Gaby is out and if there is someone to babysit her while I scare my guts out all over again.

Ah, I much prefer this angle taken in front of the famous tourist attraction, the Kapellbruke. Not that I am the least bit impressed by the bridge, which I feel is very much a tourist trap. Anyway, this shot gives you an update on Gaby's size.

And here's what I love more about the bag -- the back! Can you see the support it has? That wire mesh at the back makes sure there the weight of the bag is well spread out, but without heating up your body. Of course, I love the colour too. I notice I am taking a strong liking to many things in purple and green. Mammut is such a rampant brand here. I see it here as often as I see a Crumpler bag in Singapore. I would not have gotten it if the comfort of the design had not swept me away instantly. A sinful purchase, but I would like to believe it to be a good investment.

A Saturday Trip to Luzern

After seeing the famous wooden bridge of Luzern in countless travel brochures, Weiling and I took a 50-minute train to Luzern. Travelling around in Switzerland by train is so cheap, especially with a halbtax card that gives you a 50% discount on almost all non-air modes of transport in and from Switzerland.

Weiling made for me a cervela sandwich (cervela is the national sausage of Switzerland!) and for herself, a chicken-egg sandwich which tasted nicer than mine!

Of course, we had to satisfy one of Weiling's cravings (you know she's pregnant..) before we went up Mount Pilatus by cable car. This time, it was Ben and Jerry's ice cream in Cookie Dough flavor! And oh boy, the cable car journey was long.. Half an hour suspended in the air all the way from the base station to the top of Mount Pilatus with two stations in between. And the view was awesome! Too bad a couple queuing behind us decided to cram into a cable car with us, taking up precious space and oxygen.

Here's the view of Mount Pilatus from one of the cable car stations. There is still a long way to go up.. At this station, we have to get out of a small cable car, and get into a bigger gondola, which at that time, was filled with so many Italian schoolgirls chattering loudly.

It's very common to see kids everywhere outside in Switzerland, and here, there was quite a number of parents carrying toddlers in specially-designed backpacks, and these kids looked to be enjoying themselves so much. I want to get one for Gaby!

And here, we are on top of Mount Pilatus. You can see the beautiful Swiss Alps in the background.

There is a route of caverns carved out of the mountain-top; this route gives a wonderful view of what is down there.

And halfway during our time up on the top, the mountain suddenly got enveloped in thick clouds which accompanied us on our gondola ride all the way down. Lucky we were there at the right time to take in all the views!

After taking the cable car all the way down to the base, we stopped by a Korean restaurant nearby for lunch. Weiling had her beef bulgogi while I had my kimchi soup with tofu and stewed pork.. Shiok! And I had my beer which bees kept being attracted to. Bees here are really irritating; they love to fly super close to your faces. And the flies love to do kamikaze flights right into your faces too! And oh yes, one alcoholic bee decided to dive straight into my beer. And after scooping out the bee, Weiling put a napkin on top of my beer to deter similarly-minded bees.

Finally, here's a picture of Weiling in front of the famous wooden bridge which didn't look that impressive at all.. And oh yes, Weiling took a similar photo at the same spot when she was a young kid..

And as usual on each of our trips, we did a bit of shopping...

A Mammut backpack for Weiling to carry Gaby's things while she's pushing around the stroller! Mammut is a Swiss brand..

A soft-toy fridge magnet to add to my collection (unfortunately our fridge here has a wooden panel on the front, meaning I can't stick any magnet on it), and a pair of cute cute soft-base shoes for Gaby!

Getting Gaby's Pram from Konstanz

Lionel and I have been akin to the rather unrefined, unappreciated, uncultured Singapore tourist voyaging merely for bargains. Because I have just entered my third trimester, we have not had the luxury of time to take in the scenery and culture of this new city and its neighbours. Instead, we have been using our evenings and weekends to scour for the best bargains to make our apartment a home, and to get ready for Gaby's grand arrival.

During the last weekend, we trained up to Konstanz, Germany, which has been likened to the Johor Bahru for us living here. Konstanz is a pretty university town just across the border and slightly over an hour's train ride. And unlike travelling to JB, there is no causeway jam, corrupt officers to be wary of and the infamous JB snatch thieves on motorbikes. So on the other side of the human-defined boundary between what is called Switzerland and Germany, lies not just significantly more decent prices, but also tax free shopping! And when you consider that the tax rate there is 19%, it basically means you perpetually have a 20% discount on all purchases there.

It cost us 15 francs each one way for the train. So double us and make the journey a return trip and we pay 60 francs for transport.

It was fortunate that we had Euros (although very badly depreciated from the time we bought them late last year) leftover from our honeymoon in Eastern Europe last December. Lionel has a student account with UBS here and we found out that he had a 2,500 francs withdrawal/expenditure limit per month. By the last few days of July, we could not take out any money.

So with our honeymoon Euros, we set out to buy Gaby's pram. Asian prams, American prams and European prams are so different. In Singapore, I would never have dreamt of getting a bulky big-wheeled Mercedes-equivalent pram with excellent suspension. However, considering that we tram and bus around here, rather than drive about, the stroller needed precisely all that. Foldability and lightweightness became the last things on our mind.

So at the end of a couple of hours at BabyWalz, we left with (still) one of the more Asian sized big-wheelers. This pram is petite enough to manoeuvre supermarket aisles, and has the bottom carrier to double up as a marketing trolley. We got a three-wheeler because it seems easier to aim to get a single front wheel up and down a tram first. We parted with about 700 euros, of which we would get back 110 euros in tax claims. This German-made baby vehicle basically cost us more than S$1000 -- and it wasn't even in the BMW or Audi series of prams.

Don't I look all Mummified with the practical sports shoes, track pants, mummy figure, sun hat and well, the stroller? That is the store, BabyWalz, in the background.

Oh, that pink shopping trolley bag is what we came to Konstanz with -- all geared up for aggressive retail exercises. I think of Lionel as such a self-assured man, all confident in his masculinity, when he pulls this around on our Saturday grocery stockpiling trips. (Except in designated areas, all shops, including supermarkets, close on Sundays -- so that means we need to make sure we're adequately prepared for the weekend's meals and Monday's breakfast. And of course, Saturday is when my macho husband goes supermarketing with me -- and he can carry all the heavy stuff.)

And finally, what better way to end a day's shopping trip with a good meal? No wursts for us -- Lionel gets sausages at almost every breakfast. So here, we have our first Asian meal in a restaurant since our arrival a month ago.

Ah.. good clean Japanese food. Although it was more like Sakae Sushi in standard, the pricing was like going to a true Japanese restaurant in Singapore. Nonetheless, it was a relatively cheaper restaurant meal than what we would have had in Zurich.

All pictures are of me because Lionel was holding the iPhone. ;p

We took the 7pm train back to Zurich after an eventful day at Konstanz, which included a superb 80cent cone of gelato ice-cream, four colourful mugs at 50cents each, 3 DVDs at only 5.55 euros each, a nice jacket in preparation of the colder weather for Lionel, toiletries, detergents and two contented bellies.

The journey back gave us a trial run of what pram travelling was going to be like. And that test drive went well. The pram's suspension took the cobblestones, the ups and downs of pavement to roads and platforms to trains, and also passed the narrow supermarket aisle S-course test.

The only awkward thing was that elderly women would smile at me. Pregnant bellies attract a lot of friendliness, even in Europe. And to add a pram to that (Wah, the first is not even out of the baby carrier and she's having the next one!). Womenfolk would lower their heads and bend their bodies to peek into our pram to spot the baby, and I could never bear to see their disappointment when they found none. So eventually, Lionel and I decided to pull the pram cover all the way down -- so we ended up looking like over protective parents with an unbelievably angelic sleeping baby, or parents with a suspicious baby criminal to hide.