A Bit of Swiss. In Indiana.

The Frau went to Indiana for vacation last week. (Yes, Yodelers, you heard The Frau right. Indiana. The part not far from Gary. Yes.)

The sunset from the beach in Dune Acres with the
Chicago skyline in the background

Now, after running around places like the Alps, Italy, China, and Spain over the last decade, The Frau never thought she’d go to Indiana for a vacation, but Indiana, specifically the lake-hugging area between Dune Acres and Beverly Shores, has a lot to offer–including, who knew, a little Swissness.

Therefore, if you must know, The Frau recommends going to Indiana for those looking for a little Switzerland in the Midwest. (And also for those who love climbing dunes and enjoying sunsets on the beach.)

Wooded path to Mount Baldy

First of all, this area in Indiana’s northwest corner boasts a lot of biking and hiking paths. In the Indiana Dunes State Park, there are over 16 miles of trails and there are 50 miles more if you count the trails in the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, which surrounds the state park. There are paths through marshes, bogs, along the lake, in the dunes, in the woods, and through the prairies. It’s wonderful.

The Three Dune Challenge in
Indiana Dunes State Park

Dune path to the lake

Then, there are pedestrian and bike crossings that go over busy streets like U.S. 12 and U.S. 20 so you don’t have to wait for traffic or fear for your life as you cross the street. (The Frau wishes the Chicago area would take as much care of its pedestrians and bikers as the area between Gary and Michigan City does.)

If you rent a beach house in Dune Acres, a lakeside resort village, then you will also enjoy practically car-less streets, Swiss-style hills, lake access, and a quietly well-located wooded area that allows you to get to the State Park, many hiking and biking trails, as well as to Chesterton via bike instead of car.

European Market in Chesterton

Chesterton, a small village in the area, hosts a European Market every Saturday. How European the market is is debatable, but The Frau did find this gem: A Bit of Swiss.

Bit of Swiss

At first, The Frau was annoyed because A Bit of Swiss wasn’t really very Swiss. It had homemade breads and Danishes that were very yummy looking, but not very Swiss looking. But then, after she ate a raspberry Danish, she got less annoyed. Because can you blame A Bit of Swiss for not being Swiss? It’s owned by an American named Tim. The reality is, it’s an American bakery with a few French baking traditions thrown in for fun. Which is great. Just not Swiss.

This begs the question: Can an American ever be Swiss? The longer The Frau has been back in the U.S., the less Swiss she is becoming. And while she’ll always carry a bit of Swiss in her heart, like the Bit of Swiss bakery, in the end, good or bad, she’ll always be more American than anything else.

It could have been hell. But it was Swiss.

In some countries, things just work. You pay for them. But they work.

Airlines, for example. This weekend, I flew Swiss from Zurich to Nice. Unfortunately, Nice wasn't very nice (it rained almost the entire time I was there) but Swiss was.

We had boarded the plane in Zurich and we were ready to taxi when the pilot realized something was wrong with the plane. In any other country (or with any other airline) this would have meant crazy delays and hassle, turning my weekend getaway into an extended airport stay. But with Swiss, this problem was taken care of like clockwork. "Naturally, we have another plane for you and we will be ready for take-off again in 45 minutes."

Yeah right.

But this is Switzerland. Within 45 minutes, as promised, we were on a new plane, a bigger plane, told we could spread out and make ourselves comfortable (yay, exit row!) and we were ready to take off, arriving in Nice only about 40 minutes behind schedule.

Then the French took about another 40 minutes to get us our luggage. But that's another story. A French one.

Business Class Upgrade on Swiss

I was not looking forward to my 10-hour flight.

"There are no good seat on an airplane," I told my husband.

I was wrong.

There are seats on an airplane that don't involve bruised knees and armrest wars. They are called business class seats on long-haul Swiss flights. These seats allow you to recline all the way, read a newspaper without being handicapped by a mere page turn, and reap the rewards that only a 12 to 1 flight attendant ratio can bring.

I didn't want the flight to end.

I had a four-course lunch, which I could order from a menu, complete with a white tablecloth and food prepared by Hiltl, hand-scooped Moevenpick ice cream in a waffle cone, and non-stop beverage service. I can safely say, that in the 25 years since I started flying, this was the first flight I wasn't dehydrated, squirmy, or impatient.

I don't know how I'm going to return to my regularly scheduled squished state on my next flight, but sadly, I am not a business class regular. I wish I could tell you the secrets of being upgraded, but I have no idea why it happened. I didn't ask. I didn't complain. I didn't do anything. I just boarded the plane with 23B and got handed a receipt that said "seat upgrade to 10B."

And then, with my newfound fortune, I couldn't help but take photos, which, despite my first-class feeling, gave away my true status as an "economist."

Have you ever been upgraded? If so, what are your secrets?

My Application for a C Permit

Dear Switzerland,

I would like to apply for my C Permit a year ahead of time because in four short years, I have become more Swiss than some Swiss. I realize this is not “the rule” and may involve special votes and über-democratic procedures, so here is my reasoning for your fellow citizens to consider:

-If a tram is one-minute late, I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.

-I have personally dug out a Schweizer Familie Feuerstelle, buried under five-feet of snow, and proceeded to cook fondue over a wood fire to the amazement of passing Swiss snowshoers (see photo).

-I can now eat an entire cervelet in one sitting.

-When I’m invited somewhere, I now wait outside said person’s door until the nearest clock tower dings our agreed meeting time. And then I ring the bell one second later.

-Last year my gutters were so clean I could drink from them but I still went out and bought a SFr 6 bottle of water anyway.

-I often start capitalizing all English Nouns.

-I consider paying SFr 60 ($60) for dinner a “good deal.”

-I also consider a savings of 10% reason enough to run an advertisement in a newspaper.

-I have gone to two Tunnelfests.

-Finally, I make sure to crowd the door when a train arrives so that the people trying to get off the train can’t.

Anyhow, thanks for your consideration and I look forward to being one step closer to citizenship.

Herzliche Grüsse,

The Hausfrau

Now it’s your turn. Are you worthy of a C Permit? Prove it by leaving a comment below.

Making Friends in Switzerland

It's hard to make friends with the locals. But you are not alone--the Swiss themselves find it hard to make friends with other Swiss. One Swiss friend of mine told me that during his first week of work at a new company this summer, not one person asked him if he would like to go to lunch. Wow. And my friend is an outgoing, friendly guy. So if you're an expat wondering what you're doing wrong, don't feel bad. To make friends in Switzerland, you need time.

After all, I am now great friends with my Swiss neighbor. But even she didn't tell me her first name for over an entire year. Instead I continued to call her Frau V, even while I ate raclette in her apartment.

One of my good German friends has also made many efforts to make Swiss friends--and with little success. So you should also know that it's not just the language barrier that's the problem. Many Swiss are content to have three or four good friends and that's it. They don't feel a need to have more and often aren't interested in finding new acquaintances. Of course, there are exceptions to this and I've been fortunate to find a few.

Anyhow, the strange Swiss Friend Phenomenon all makes it very hard for expats, especially those interested in making friends outside of international clubs. I've been here over three years and I can count on one hand the number of Swiss friends that I have. Luckily, when you do make a Swiss friend, they are some of the most loyal friends that you can find. So it's worth the wait. But as most expats living in Switzerland can tell you, the wait isn't easy.

How about you? What are your experiences making friends in Switzerland?

5 ways the USA and Switzerland are Different, Part II

Here is a continuation of yesterday’s post about the differences between the USA and Switzerland.

6. Prices. I bought a pair of Nike running shoes for $32 at the Chicago Outlet Mall. Later I realized I had bought the wrong size so I returned them for a full refund AND then was also offered a 20% off coupon if I shopped again in the store in the next 2 hours. So I got the right size of the shoes for even cheaper—this time they were $25 with my coupon. In Switzerland, not only would I have not been allowed to return anything, they also would have cost $150 for the same thing.

7. The food. Most Americans eat terribly. The number of processed foods and fruits and vegetables made to last weeks is a little disconcerting after learning to buy things the same day I’m going to eat them lest they go moldy in Switzerland. In America, a loaf of bread can last two weeks. Very different from my Swiss bread I have to eat the same day or feed to the birds. The American food sure is convenient. But my stomach paid the price.

8. Personal space. Yesterday on the tram in Zurich, a guy was literally standing right over me and coughing and hitting me with his bag every time the tram turned. In Swiss stores, people push you to grab what they want. But in America, people give you your space. They wait for you to stop looking at something in a store before they barge in. They would never stand so close to you that you were touching if there was an alternative. It’s really great to feel not so closed in all the time. I definitely prefer American-sized space!

9. Dress. Americans are slobs. They parade around in sweats, running shoes, velour outfits, and huge sweatshirts. I loved it and took advantage of wearing what is considered pajamas in Switzerland to parties in the U.S. It was really great to be a slob for a few weeks. The Swiss dress much nicer, wear fitted clothes, and leather shoes.

10. Smiles. Americans are very friendly and smile a lot. Usually this is a nice change of pace, but I would get the occasional cashier or stranger that wanted to know my entire life story behind why I didn’t want their store’s credit card. In Switzerland, people don't smile much at strangers. The cashiers don't smile. They say “hello” and “goodbye”. Sometimes they ask you if you have the store's points card. But if you don't, that's the end of that.

Economy Class on Swiss

To travel in style yet still pay economy prices, choose a seat in the exit row. On most long-haul flights on Swiss, the best seats for this purpose are in row 30. For our ten-hour flight to Chicago, we sat in row 30, seats J and K. I highly recommend them. If you don't believe me, have a look at my feet. They are actually stretched out in economy class. This is something really worth a photo, although my husband was too embarrassed to let me ask the flight attendant to take a really proper picture.

As far as seats on Swiss to avoid--definitely avoid 41D and 41G. These are aisle seats on the same Swiss long-haul planes, but are prime places for elbow pain as the seats directly behind this row of 4 are only in a row of 3, and thus beverage carts never fail to slam into the poor arm of the sitter of 41D and 41G. For more info on good seats and bad on Swiss or any other airplane, visit seatguru.com

Duty Free Jewelry

I admit it. I am not really a shopper at 35,000 feet. But thankfully, many others are. On our 10-hour flight from Zurich to Chicago, we witnessed a woman debate and try on one Swiss watch after the next while the flight attendant made recommendations like, "well, this one is the best for the value," and "sorry, we don't have that one on this cart, as someone already bought that model today." etc.

I also experienced a watch purchaser on a Swiss flight from Zurich to Athens. This shopper debated between two watches so long that other passengers were chiming in to help give him advice like, "well, that one's really a classic, but if you're a more trendy type, get the other". Or maybe they were just speeding him along to get the cart out of their way so they could pee. I don't know.

Actually, I have always been grateful for the in flight shoppers surrounding me--especially on long flights as they really fill the time between crappy sandwiches and landing time. If you think watching someone try on watches or purchase cartons of cigarettes is boring, try doing it at 35,000 feet and it suddenly becomes as entertaining Jon Stewart.

But I have to give the Swiss airline credit. They forgo the typical gadget-heavy Sky Mall catalog for something much more sophisticated. It's a magazine of tastefully photographed watches, jewelry, and cigarette cartons. From the first time I flew Swiss, I fell in love with a Swarovski Crystal necklace in the duty free airline magazine. "What's happening to me?" I thought, "I'm now falling for something I never thought possible--airport jewelry."

The thing is, besides my wedding rings, I don't even wear jewelry. But something about the thin air above planet earth makes anything possible. So whoever said, "Let's sell to these suckers" was the smartest marketing person since Bill Bernbach. At least I haven't decided to turn into a smoker yet, as the prices for the cartons of cigarettes sure make it tempting.

Anyhow, since then, every flight I've taken with Swiss I've reminded my husband of how nice this necklace is. So finally, the persistence paid off. I received this very necklace for Christmas. Apparently my husband finally bought it on a flight from Warsaw to Zurich because he got upgraded to business class and was in the front aisle seat and therefore wasn't embarrassed to be buying jewelry from a cart because up there, none of the masses in economy could see him.

I wear my duty free necklace proudly and look forward to my flight back to Zurich, where I will most likely fall prey to the next installment of the latest and greatest that any airline duty free magazine could ever offer.

Powerless

This evening, my husband was trying to help me with my new website when all of a sudden we had no power. Now it wasn't a complete surprise, as we both knew something "special" was going on today because our neighbor tried to explain something about "Strom" about a week ago and asked us, "hadn't we read some letter about this?"

Now I vaguely remembered trying to read a letter filled with a non-stop string of 20-letter German words, but by the time I had gotten through the fifth word or so my wimpy Anglo endurance had begged for relief and I had set it aside for the time that never seems to come when I have the patience for the German language.

A few days ago, when I had asked our neighbor to clarify her blahs by asking, "Ok, so we will have no Strom (power) on Saturday..." she would shake her head and say a few more blahs. So all I was left with was the knowledge that something would happen. Whew. Another accomplishment to add to my collection in this crazy country.

The frustrating thing was, once the power was cut, we had no idea how long the power would be out for, so after an hour, I was really ready for dinner and growing more impatient by the second. My husband figured we'd just use the grill to make our dinner. So I planned carefully as to only open the fridge door once to retrieve all we would need for dinner. We were ready to grill burgers, power or not. But wouldn't you know it, this is the moment the grill decides to run out of gas. Lovely. The stores are closed and we have no car.

After bashing everything Swiss (this is completely normal and happens whenever something goes wrong while living here) the power came on just before 8 pm and we finally could make a dinner and I was saved from my husband's final solution: Burger King.

Me and the (Swiss) Boys, Part I

I had the pleasure of being invited to see the premier of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull in Switzerland before, as my Swiss friend gleefully informed me, anyone in the United States could. Knowing my friend, he had surely researched this fact, so I didn’t doubt him, but was just pleasantly surprised to find a film actually showing in Swiss theaters before the U.S. DVD was released.

The evening began at the Zeughauskeller, a popular restaurant in Zurich with both tourist and locals alike. I met my Swiss friend there for a dinner with his film club. As I stood at the door looking for a familiar face, finally I saw my friend waving me over to a large round table, half filled with a group of Swiss men in their 40s.

They were all very nice and I was seated strategically between my friend and another guy that spoke perfect English. The waiter was very friendly, something I’m not very used to with my foreigner status. But since I was with a group of Swiss, the whole eating out thing was a pleasant experience. I ordered a Coke and pasta with asparagus, since it’s one of the things I could actually read on the German menu, even though for once, I actually had the option of having an interpreter.

As I thirstily reached for my five-dollar, 33ml Coke, once again I experienced the shock that comes when you realize it’s not ice-cold. (Or really cold at all for that matter). I don’t know why this always surprises me, since after two years here, I should try to appreciate warm beverages for all that they can be, but I just can’t stop pining that $1.79, 32 oz glass of ice dribbled with Coke sometimes.

Anyhow, my meal was delicious. To keep up the entertainment factor while I followed about 25% of the Swiss German film club conversation, I focused my attention on the three Japanese businessmen that were also seated at our round table since some of the film club failed to show up. They were clearly uncomfortable suddenly being a part of the Swiss film club, and after pondering a menu for about 15 minutes, ordered and finally moved to another table.

Seated in the place of the three businessmen were two Japanese tourists, who went through the same strange realization that they were to be ceremoniously part of our party. They as well went through a menu decoding process and did a lot of staring (not sure if it was about the food selection or the high prices). After that, they passed the time with picture taking.

Anyhow, after the meal we headed to the cinema. More about that tomorrow.