The journey to Nyon took a little longer than expected, as I am the only licensed adult that can drive a manual transmission. I am also the only one with breasts, so I had to alternate between driving and nursing, which extended the trip considerably. We staggered to our temporary housing in Nyon and decided to find a bite to eat. Eager to fulfill our visions of our new European life, complete with dining on fabulous cuisine at a sidewalk café with our dog gently lounging at our feet, we took Tycho along to dinner. One problem, our dog may be gentle, but not when there is food involved. He spent the entire dinner begging for table scraps and greeting other patrons. So unrefined, so un-European! We didn’t want him to “blow our cover”—not that our lack of French didn’t tip off the wait staff. Our fabulous cuisine ended up being pizza and I could see the writing on the wall; it was just the beginning of the shenanigans of our new life in Switzerland.
Other columns in the series:
Stories from the Land of Cheese: Buoyed by Mont Blanc
Stories from the Land of Cheese: Old World Charm and Moon Boots
Stories From the Land of Cheese: How Do You Say “Vomit” in French?
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