The Ultimate Swiss Souvenir

After being a tourist two times in Switzerland and then living here myself, I've seen my share of souvenir offerings. Swiss army knives. Cow bells. Fondue pots. And hundreds of various forms of chocolate.

I've watched visitors stock up on Heidi and Peter Christmas market ornaments, gingerbreads in the shape of santa and cheese plates in the shape of Switzerland. But the ultimate Swiss souvenir, as was bought a week ago by a recent visitor, has to be the Swiss toilet paper holder.

"I'll never be able to go back to the inferior American design after this," the happy purchaser of a shiny new chrome Swiss toilet paper holder exclaimed.

"And the best part is, you'll be reminded of your travels abroad at least three times a day," chimed in an approving family member.

Clearly, there are great benefits to this product, including the fact that it makes ripping your desired amount of toilet paper easy not to mention prevents the embarassment of unrolling an entire roll of TP without meaning to. And think of the envy that having this amazing souvenir will create.

If Swiss tourism rises in the next few years, I'm sure they'll credit the new marketing campaign. But I, I'll just laugh, and start my own line of TP holders featuring the Swiss cross and sell them directly to the souvenir stores.

When in Switzerland, Skip Lucerne

Don’t get me wrong, Lucerne (or Luzern) is a beautiful Swiss city, but every time I go there, I can’t wait to leave. It’s just so overrun with tourists in the summers that it has lost all its charm. Buses full of Americans, Germans, Japanese and Italians take over the city. And let’s be honest, people walking around holding metal poles topped with colored tassels to herd groups of tourists is just not a Swiss tradition (but you can bet the making money part of it is). One of my visitors asked if this was my favorite Swiss city, but the real truth is, with all the camera-toting, tassel-waving humanity there, it will never make the top ten (except to maybe take a photo of the Gutsch Hotel). No, my list of The Top 10 Swiss Cities No One Visits will come soon in what I’m learning in my travel writing class, is called a Round-Up article.

I am Repair Man. Do what I say!

I am really getting fed up with Serivcetechnikers (repairmen). They barely give us any notice (or maybe our Wincasa apartment managers are to blame—which wouldn’t surprise me) before not asking, but demanding entrance to our apartment to do things like play with our radiators for hours at a time.

Last night our neighbor informed us (they never talk to us directly...) that they would like to work on our apartment on Friday at 10. Well, this wasn’t going to work, as both my husband and I work. (Imagine that, no housefrau at home!)

So I called up, after plotting my conversation ahead of time in German, and politely told them Friday wouldn’t work, and could they come on Monday instead, when I could clear my schedule to be home.

“No,” was the curt German reply, “we have to do it this afternoon or Friday.” Well too bad for you, I thought, maybe next time you should plan ahead.

I told him I worked in Zurich and couldn’t be there this afternoon. And my husband had meetings all day and couldn’t just leave at their demand to open a door. Then he said I had to leave my key with the neighbor so he could have entrance for tomorrow.

The thing is, since we were victims of theft a month ago, we’re a little cautious right now, especially since we found out the police aren’t open when you need them, nor are they at any way helpful in dealing with crime.

The other factor is that house keys are so expensive (imagine that, something expensive in Switzerland) to replace that insurance companies won’t even cover them.

But alas, apparently we have no choice in the matter. The customer (or renter) is never right in Switzerland, so I know there’s no hope in changing things. Which only means, sometimes I really just want to go home. But when you live in an overpriced, terribly managed apartment building, where is that?

Surviving the Schwietzerdütsch Meeting

Before he began, the CEO looked at me as if for approval to start speaking to the office in German. And who am I to stop him from speaking his own language? So I nod and say it’s ok. Then he looks at another German employee for approval and says, “Schweizerdütsch?” She too says ok, even though she probably meant, “heaven help me”. Needless to say, with this unfortunate development of not just German, but Swiss German, I understood only about 30% (as opposed to my high German understanding of about 70%). When it comes to trying to learn languages in Switzerland, I've come to one conclusion: you just can't win.

So my version of the meeting was limited to things like, “we’re going to have one main receptionist for both Zurich and Geneva”, “my door is always open”, “this person, this person, this person, and this person all quit this month”, and “we’re getting a new creative director in October. And he’s a German.” Needless to say, I was very proud of this much comprehension, as I thought I’d come away with only a few ands, buts, and bads.

Luckily, here and there, during other times like lunch, random employees fill me in by complaining—“can you believe he wants us to tell him what we did to grow our client’s business every Monday from now on?”

So little by little, I guess I’ll find out what really happened at the meeting and what I’m supposed to be doing through the old-fashioned method of discovering I didn’t do it. But after over two years of these kinds of experiences, while it still doesn’t get any easier to feel like a 2-year-old, at least I have an answer when asked how the meeting was. I smile and break out my very excellent Swiss German with a hearty, “Eschgutzee.”

Gandria, a little piece of Italy in Switzerland

Gandria is a fishing village that hangs on a cliff over Lake Lugano an easy 30-minute boat ride away from Lugano. It's winding, narrow streets are charming and the food at Ristorante Antico even more so. A bonus is you can walk from Gandria back to Lugano via an "Olive Path", a beautiful, easy trial that winds along the lake and offers great views and history of olives as you walk.

The Swiss Transportation Disaster

Swiss transportation has a reputation for being perfect. And usually it is, or very close to it. But Sunday was a complete disaster. In one way, this was very satisfying, to see the perfect Swiss in such a mess. In another, standing in the rain while Swiss-German speaking people pushed in front of all the polite English and laid back Italian people to get on a single bus was not. We stood in the rain while other train loads of people from trains that arrived after ours cut in front of us as different buses pulled up to take us on the section the train could not, delaying our entire journey a total of two hours.

But let me explain the day. We took the 12.09 train from Lugano to Zurich because it was direct and my husband and I were traveling with (they dubbed it themselves) the "Medicare Mecca". (In other words, four people over the age of 60). These people couldn't walk fast on a regular day, not to mention they had luggage. So we tried the easiest possible route to Baden which would involve one change only in Zurich.

We got all comfortable and then the train stopped in Biasca. We were all told to get off the train to go meet buses because the trains couldn't get through. But they didn't tell us ahead of time, so there was no time to use the bathroom or eat a sandwich in the comfort of the train. Instead, we all stood outside in the cold rain while one bus took the people fast enough to get on it away to the town of Aiorlo (sp?), a half hour ride away.

As we stood, six people, the Medicare Mecca, trying to stay together and drag luggage (not to mention find bathrooms), people pushed and barged in front of us even though their train arrived later as bus after bus pulled up leaving us in the rain for at least 45 minutes. We met a nice Italian girl from Verona, also amazed by the pushy Swiss people and lack of transport. There was no line. There was no organization. It was awful. I thought we'd be standing there all day. I was ready to give out numbers to these people.

I started to shiver because I had worn my train outfit (shorts and t-shirt) since trains have a reputation for being hot. Finally I told my Medicare Mecca that they had to be mean and pushy and charge towards the next bus or we'd be there all day. And they did! I was very proud. They pushed and shoved the Swiss people like they'd been doing it for two years like me. It was very brave of them as this was completely out of character not to mention physical prowess.

So we took the half hour bus to Airolo, tried to figure out which train was going to Zurich (no signs, no conductors helping). We dragged all the luggage onto one train and hoped for the best. It turned out to be right, but we had to change again in Arth Goldau to meet the connecting train.

When we arrived in Arth Goldau, there were hundreds of people already waiting for the train, and we had no choice but to get on in first class, where the train stopped where we were standing. There was no way to get to any part of the train except where we were there were so many people and luggage, so we sat in first class. My husband yelled at a Swiss man who said a seat was reserved even though it clearly wasn't. A Medicare Mecca member clubbed someone with her umbrella who wouldn't move out of the way. It was all in good Swiss fun. Luckily no conductor could make it through to find out us second class citizens were in first class and charge us all 80 francs each. Blah.

In Zurich we changed again to Baden and got home about 5.30. What a day. So we drank champagne and ate Big Macs and finally went to bed happy.

A new global leader needed

I don’t really like to write about politics, but since my in-laws are here and like watching TV, we have had some American TV on through our connection with the Slingbox. They’ve got some of the Republican convention on, mainly stupid discussions about everything except the real issues. The last point that was brought up before we turned it off was about the fact that the Republican VP nominee, Sarah Palin, doesn’t have a passport. (And it was reported that only 27% of Americans have one.) Wow. But still. This may seem like another small picky thing, but to me, after living abroad, I think it’s huge.

This is a global world. You don’t understand your own country or know what it means to be an American until you go elsewhere. You can’t understand how the rest of the world sees Americans or America until you hear it from them personally and read their newspapers. Just today, we heard from a German woman living in Switzerland (who lived in the US for 10 years) about how she couldn’t believe one man (W. Bush) could do so much damage. When asked if she’d ever go back to live in the US, she said, “no, it’s really gone downhill.”

To be fair, Palin’s got five kids not to mention a big job, so maybe she didn’t have time in the last ten years to travel abroad. But if you are training to be a global leader, you should have an interest in the rest of the world.

To me it feels like McCain picked her to get all the people wanting a woman in the White House in order to stick it to the dems. But that makes me not like him all the more. Don’t get me wrong, I want a woman in the White House as much as any other American woman. But it’s got to be the right one for the right reasons. I guess I’m a little tired of a campaign that’s all about if we’re black or white, woman or man. What happened to picking the right person based on their credentials and what they believe?

Next Stop, Bubikon

In my travels in Switzerland, I have found at least three names of Swiss cities that are humorous to Americans (and I am not making them up). Here they are:

1. Bubikon
2. Buttikon
3. Weggis

And there you have it.

Reliving Switzerland

So the in-laws and two other family members came to visit on Friday, two of them hadn't ever been to Switzerland before. So it's been fun seeing Switzerland through their eyes. On Saturday we enjoyed Baden--visited the farmer's market, the flea market, the beer garden and then we made fondue. On Sunday we headed to Lucerne, took the boat to Vitznau, the train up to Rigi Klum and then a cable car down to Weggis. It was a great taste of Switzerland for people that have never seen it and I'd recommend the trip for visitors. The picture above is of the cable car ride down to Weggis.

The Long Wait. Or Permit Renewal in Switzerland.

Well, I won’t hold my breath until I actually have it in my hand, but my renewed residence permit is ready for pick-up, for a mere 199 CHF, as I was informed from a letter from our Canton yesterday. Renewing this residence permit is a yearly process for those of us from non-EU countries.

The process begins with a letter telling you to show up to your Canton’s office with a form filled out (in German) and to bring your permit and passport. This letter arrived in March (the expiration date on our permit is early May).

So in April we showed up at the office with our forms and passports and turned in our expiring permits (thank God they don’t take your passport too…) expecting our new permits to arrive in a few weeks.

Make that more like a few months. Really. Four months to be exact. (Not to mention, they had the audacity to pay for second rate postage on the letter informing us they are ready—a mere .15 cents less than first class—to extend this laborious process by another five days.) But heck, what’s the difference at this point?

Now if they would date the renewed permit August 27, 2009, that would be one thing. But no. It will be dated May 7, 2009, which gives us a mere six months until we will have to start the process all over again if we intend on staying. Talk about inefficiency. I’ve never seen a country with such efficient and reliable public transportation with such poor public paper processing. It’s really quite amazing.

So now, after months of delay, I can finally fill out some more paperwork I was given in June to be sent, along with my shiny new permit, to the Canton of Zurich to approve me to write a column for a magazine that’s been waiting on me since early June. I’m bracing myself for another long few months. But in the meantime, I'll have plenty of time to write.

The fun times of Swiss living to be continued…

Blast from the Past (Otherwise known as the Swiss Present)

The other day, my husband was investigating the latest technology in the local Swiss stores when he saw a display of Discmans.

“Can you believe they still sell those?” he said, “They use so many batteries not to mention they’re totally and completely outdated.”

“Well, what do you expect from a country that didn’t let women vote until 1971?” I said, always looking for a way to throw in this amazing fact. But then I reconsidered. “Well, maybe it’s just for the old people that they still sell those.”

But today on the tram, I look over and see a man in his 30s listening to music on nothing other than a Discman. I almost laughed as I put away my iPod Shuffle and got off the tram, shaking my head the entire way to the office.

I'm Picking in the Rain

On Saturday we went flower picking in the rain with our Swiss neighbor. We went to two different fields—one in Freienwil and one near Kirchdorf. For some reason, I love picking flowers from a field myself but then I get home and find I can’t arrange them at all.

Anyhow, it was fun to bond with our neighbor and discuss our favorite colors. She’s a deep pink kind of person while I’m an orange one. (Well, my favorite color is blue, but flowers don’t usually come in that color).

Anyhow, I cut five gladiolas and 10 dahlias. Now cutting flowers in Switzerland isn’t cheap, (because what is?) but it’s the experience you pay for as much as the flowers. Nothing like cutting a yellow gladiola in a downpour to the tune of cow bells and the feeling of muddy Birkenstocks.

When I was in Chicago in July, I remember seeing big bouquets of 10 gladiolas on sale for $3 at the farmer’s market. But in Switzerland, they cost the equivalent of $1.10 a flower—and that’s if you cut them yourself. But then again, they’re Swiss Qualität—which means they are guaranteed to do one thing—last about one day before wilting or molding—both hallmarks of Swiss products.

My New German Lessons

After taking German classes for two years straight, I decided I really needed a break from the academic part and am trying a new approach to learning. I’ve got most of the basics down, and at this point I really just need to get braver and talk more. This is hard for a perfectionist like myself, but I am trying to get over it. My goals are to be able to do basic things at work in German. So for example, to be able to say amazingly intelligent things like, “we can delete that,” (Man kann das löschen) or “Monica is looking for you” (Monica sucht dich) or “how was the presentation?” (Wie war die Präsentation?). Anyhow, I try to learn one little phrase every day (Ich lerne jeden Tag ein bisschen). Since my colleague is going on vacation in the USA for three weeks after today, my phrase for today is “Ich beneide dich” (I envy you.)

Hangin' with the Frau

After two years, we are really getting to be good friends with our Swiss neighbor, who we like to call "The Frau". And it is a lot of fun. She’s 43 years older than us, but we have a great time together. First off, she’s one of the only people in Switzerland that doesn’t try to speak to us in English (because she really can’t) and doesn’t make us feel dumb while we try to speak German. Because of this, and the fact that she speaks high German slowly because it’s not her native language either (Swiss German is), she is one of my favorite people to practice German with. Granted, she doesn’t really correct us when we talk, which is helpful for learning, but sometimes in the end, it’s just nice to have the confidence that although all of your grammar is far from perfect, you still can carry on a conversation for a few hours.

Last night she had us over for raclette (and prosecco and wine). Boy can she eat cheese! (and drink alcohol!) She told us she usually eats two pieces of cheese at a time so eats at least eight in one sitting. Wow, I felt stuffed after four, but then again I’m a wimpy American who is not used to processing that much cheese—except maybe on deep dish pizza!

We had so much fun that we are going to go flower picking with her on Saturday. I’ll keep you posted on that adventure.

The Human Factor

I used to complain about yearly state inspections when I lived in Virginia because they always seemed to benefit the garage that was doing them. After all, what garage wouldn’t try to get some extra money out of people every year by not passing them unless they fixed this and that—and at the garage’s profit, no less. In Switzerland, I do not have a car, and thank God for that as I have heard the craziest stories from fellow expats about their car inspections:

-One guy was failed because his engine was dirty.

-Another was failed because the underside of his 10-year old car was dirty.

-And a third guy failed his motorcycle inspection because he did not have a piece of paper stating how fast the motorcycle could go. (He’s from Spain and I doubt they even give those out in Spain).

Maybe it’s just me and my American upbringing, but sometimes the Swiss policies seem so anal and inhuman. An American would accept that a 10-year old car might be a little dirty. That’s just a fact of life. But the Swiss see it as a character flaw of the owner. And that is something I will never understand.

In the same way that the Swiss expect, after living in an apartment for years, that it be exactly the way it was left years earlier—without a scratch, without sympathy for the very human error of losing a key. There’s no allowance for “wear and tear” here. I just don’t know how the Swiss live. A French expat I know is already worried that after living in his Swiss flat for 5 years with 3 kids, that he will be responsible for every little scratch on the cheap parquet flooring. And I’m sorry, but this is no way to live life—nickeled and dimed for being nothing else but, well, human.

How to Find a Job in Switzerland: Advice from a Trailing Spouse

Sometimes people ask me, as a “trailing spouse”, how I managed to find a job so quickly upon arriving in Switzerland from the United States. The real reason is that I started my search before I left home. Upon giving my notice to my former employee I asked if they could help me find a job overseas. They agreed to send my resume to the New York office in their network, who then forwarded it to the Zurich office.

I was lucky. The Zurich office needed an English speaking writer at the time and I had an interview set-up before I even left U.S. soil.

With that said, here are some job hunting tips and tools:

1. Use the networks you already have. You may not know anyone where you are moving to, but chances are, you know someone that knows someone. Get the word out that you are looking for a job in Switzerland. Before you even leave home. Use your former office for help and contacts.

2. Use networking websites like LinkedIn or even Facebook, depending on your industry. For example, advertising professionals love Facebook.

3. Check englishforum.ch for jobs or post a note about what you’re looking for. People on this forum are very helpful with information and you’ll most likely get some sort of response.

4. Look up international companies based in Switzerland. They will be the most likely to have jobs for English speakers. Check their websites. Some examples are UBS, Zurich, Siemens, Credit Suisse, Alstom, IBM, DOW, Google, and ABB.

5. For media, journalism, PR, and advertising jobs, check persoenlich.ch. It’s in German, but ads for English positions are usually in English.

6. If you are a teacher, try Zurich International School or any other international school in Switzerland.

7. Other good job searching sites are stellen.ch, or topjobs.ch

8. Upon arrival, join clubs with fellow English speakers. Meeting people and making contacts will give you even more ideas and options.

If you have any other ideas or websites, please feel free to leave a comment.

Biking for Bio

Yesterday, after doing my traditional Saturday 3-grocery-store rush, my husband and I decided to go to two more little stores--up at the top of Baldegg, a small mountain which the Swiss probably classify as a tiny hill.

Whatever the case, I decided to brave the climb by foregoing the bus and doing it on my bike. And I actually surprised myself by making it--easily. I guess that's what a 5-Seen-Wanderung (see previous post) will do for you.

Today I ran for an hour without barely breaking a sweat. Wow. One hike in the Alps and I'm suddenly Olympic quality.

Anyhow, the two stores at the top of Baldegg are organic farm stores, or what the Swiss call "bio" (BEE-oh). They are tiny, one room places that don't even have a person working in them, just a box for your money. The one store even leaves out lots of change and a calculator for you to add up your purchases and take correct change. (They obviously are unaware of the crime level in this area--see previous posts).

Anyhow, we bought some Swiss plums, apples, and yogurt, strapped them onto our bikes and rode down the mountain. It was a pleasant and very Swiss way to finish off the afternoon.

What is wrong with the restaurants in Switzerland?

It seems every time I visit a Swiss restaurant or take-away establishment I leave unsatisfied. I don’t know what is wrong with the food in this country, but the only amazing thing about it is the price. It doesn’t matter if you spend 30 CHF on an entrée or 7 CHF for a take-away piece of pizza, it’s guaranteed to be average or below.

For this reason, my husband and I do not eat out very often, as there is no place that I ever really crave. I find this very strange after living various places in the U.S., where I always had places “I really felt like” and was excited about going to eat.

Yesterday, for example, a friend introduced me to a place called Basilikum in Zurich. It was very crowded and obviously popular. I ordered the menu and then waited about 10 minutes by the cash register for what turned out to be very average or less than average sweet and sour stir fry. Now since it was a bargain at 10 CHF, I got a free glass of warm tap water, and didn’t have to endure smoke where we sat, I was more satisfied than usual. But still. I miss great food. And I miss people that know what that is.

Sometimes I think well, it’s just that my American taste buds are biased. But I’ve eaten great food in other countries in Europe, most in notably Greece, Spain, and Norway. So I don’t know if all Swiss people are born with Country Buffet, 80-year old taste buds or what, but they really just don’t get great food.

After all, melted cheese on a plate with potatoes only gets you so far in the food chain. And drinks made from whey, well, when you get right down to it, whey is something even cheese didn’t want. So why would I? But the Swiss, with their ever tolerant taste buds, mix whey in with some gassy water and call it a national beverage. You’ve got to give them credit for their, uh, creativity.

Maybe it’s unfair, but the language also gets in the way of the food. It’s hard to get your mouth watering when you see a menu filled with words like Hühnerbruststreifen and Schweinshaxe. Because before you even start eating you've had a mouthfull.

With that said, I’m off to lunch today with a friend. It was a big debate of where to go, since like usual, nothing Swiss ever gives me cravings, but we are headed to Beyond, the best Asian restaurant I have found so far. Wish me luck. And please, if you know of a great place to eat in this country, leave a comment.

The Cost of Living in Switzerland

For anyone considering moving to Switzerland (or just visiting for awhile), here is a general run-down of the cost of living:

Rent, average 2-bedroom apartment, 1500 CHF-month

Rent, large penthouse 2-bedroom apartment, 2500 CHF-month

High-Speed Internet, 45 CHF-month

Heat, Electricity and Water (2-bedroom apt), 60 CHF-month

1,5 Liter Bottle of Coke from Grocery Store 2.30 CHF

2 Liters of Milk 3 CHF

Loaf of Bread 3 CHF

10 Eggs 3 CHF

Gas 1.85 CHF per liter ($7.00 a gallon)

Yearly Transport Pass in Switzerland 2,900 CHF

Average Price for a 15-minute train ride 20 CHF

Cost of a first-class stamp for a letter within Switzerland 1 CHF

Cost of a first-class stamp for a letter to the USA 1.80 CHF

Cost to mail a small package to USA first class 35 CHF

Average Lunch Entrée 20 CHF

Average Dinner Entrée 30 CHF

Average Price for glass of water in restaurant 5 CHF

Average Hotel Room 190 CHF

Average Monthly Salary (for a Swiss Man) 6,650 CHF

Box of Laundry Detergent 12 CHF

Large Package of Toilet Paper 11 CHF

Chocolate Bar 1.50 CHF

Housecleaner 20 CHF/hour

Pair of Nike Running Shoes 180 CHF

Tuition at International High School (per year) 30,000 CHF

Am I missing anything important you need to know about? Leave a comment.

Watching the Olympics auf Deutsch

For the past few days we have watched a few hours of the Olympics. At first, I was really excited about watching the Games, but my enthusiasm is dwindling due to having to watch it in German and not being able to follow the US teams. The opening ceremonies were great, the best I have ever seen. After about a half hour, I tuned out all the German and just enjoyed the spectacle. But what really has been driving me crazy are the interviews with athletes. The athletes are usually speaking in English, and for about 10 seconds it’s wonderful. Then the German translator overpowers them and I find myself not trying to understand the German, but straining to hear the English they’ve covered up instead. The German translator is the same voice and it prattles on and on no matter who is speaking, man or woman. It gets a bit monotonous after awhile.

Also, it’s a bit strange the way they title all the programming, like “Mission to Beijing.” They are all titled in English, but said with a German accent so by the time I’m through watching the Games, I fear that any English I do have left will be seriously compromised. What do you mean Beijing? The Olympics were in Peking. (This is what it’s called in German).

It’s too bad the programming can’t be interactive somehow, where you get to choose what teams to follow. I try, but I just don’t really care if the German team wins a medal or not. And so far in my watching, I’ve gotten to see about one American compete. Watching the Olympics without being able to cheer for your country kind of defeats the point. Oh well.

Die 5-Seen Wanderung

I chose to take the five-lake hike on Pizol because my hiking book said it was an easy-moderate hike with one of the most varying and beautiful changing panoramas in all of Switzerland. On the second point, it was very true, but the “easy-moderate” part is debatable. Maybe for the Swiss, this hike is easy. It’s obviously a very popular hike in Switzerland based on the fact that the entire five hours we hiked it was pretty much wall to wall people on the trail. Some were 75 years old. Some were 4. Some were dogs. And all were passing me up.

Now I consider myself to be in shape by American standards. I jog. I bike. I walk a lot. But this does not mean anything when it comes to ascending and descending mountain after mountain. While I was expecting a nice fairly flat walk along five lakes, what I got was a hike that included a steep and rocky trail that made you ascend and descend for every lake. It was one of the toughest hikes I’ve ever done. Today I am sore all over and have blisters on my feet.

Now I don’t mind being a slow hiker. I like to admire the views and take photos and I hike to relax. But this hike didn’t allow for much relaxing as I was competing against a Swiss clock.

Because the chair lift closed at 5pm and we were in Switzerland we knew there would be no sympathy for showing up after closing time. After we’d been hiking for about 2 hours we came upon a hiking sign that informed us we still had 3 hours of hiking to go before reaching the chair lift. And it was 2pm.

So we raced up the next ascent, panting and dizzy by the top. And we made it in the exact allotted time that the sign said for that section. Great. We continued at a rather crazy (but normal Swiss) pace for the entire remaining 2 hours and am proud to say we made it to the chair lift before 4.30pm so we did not end up sleeping on a mountain top that still had snow in August. But I won’t say it wasn’t without pain.

We were so exhausted that we treated ourselves to a beer in the restaurant car on the train ride home. I've never tasted anything so good.

My Newly Discovered, Former Fat Self

A few weeks back, I was out having lunch with some German and Swiss colleagues when one of them asked me,

“So in America, it’s impossible to not get fat, right?”

Before I could answer, another Swiss colleague chimed in,

“What do you mean? She’s not fat.”

To which he answered,

“Yes, but she’s been in Switzerland for two years.”

So basically, in their minds I was a blimp in my pre-expat life. Great.

Tips for recovering lost or stolen items in Switzerland

Obviously I am not an authority, since our stolen items have still not been recovered, but since all I’ve been doing this week is trying to get our stuff back and collecting the best ways to do that from various sources, I thought I’d share the information for anyone else that finds themselves in a similar situation.

1. Fill out the claim form from your Kanton police’s website (unfortunately it will only be in the language of the Kanton that you live in.) Here, for example is the link to the form in the Kanton of Aargau:

Aargau Police Theft Report Form

2.Register your loss with the following places (depending on your situation):

The Switzerland Lost and Found: (in German)
The Switzerland Lost and Found

Register your keys or look at images of lost keys at: (in German)
Key Finder

Report your lost items with the Swiss Train System (SBB):
SBB Lost and Found(in English!)

Report your loss to your local city: (example here is for Baden)
Baden Lost and Found

Check lost and founds of Bus networks:
Address for RVBW (Baden area): Bahnhofplatz 1, Baden, Tel. 056 222 19 19

3. When all else fails, feel free to cry.

And if anyone else reading this has other tips, please add your comments.

Sorry, the Police are Closed

I wonder a lot of things about Switzerland. But the most perplexing thing that’s come up recently is that the police can actually be closed. We found this out because of a situation we found ourselves in over the weekend where we needed to report something stolen. Well forget it, if crime happens after 5pm, the Swiss police are not on duty. So we were out of luck. The only number that someone actually answered was the emergency number—and they just told us to go to their website and fill out a form. After about an hour trying to wade through all the German on the website we found the form and worked on that. We went back on Sunday during the posted hours 1:30-5pm. Still not open. Amazing lack of service when it comes to reporting a crime.

On the other hand, when it comes to petty rules and regulations, the Swiss police couldn’t be more motivated. A friend of ours was actually called by the police one day while she was at work. They made her come to the station to identify something. So of course she’s nervous as she heads for the police station as she hasn’t a clue what it could be about.

She shows up and they take her into another room.

“Is this your trash?” they inquired.

Sure enough, all her trash was laid out on a table. Since there had been an envelope with her name on it, she of course had to say yes.

They then went on to fine her 200 CHF (191 USD) and tell her that she should never again put her trash out the night before pick-up day as that is a crime in Switzerland. One must put it out only at 7am the day of.

Alas. A report of robbery? They don’t have time for that. They’re too busy prowling the streets for more important things. Like trash.

International Party

Yesterday we had our annual August 1st party to celebrate Swiss Independence Day. It is always interesting to see the diverse mix of people interact during these events.

Our Swiss neighbor, (the only Swiss at the party), came over, as usual, right when the clock dinged 7.30pm. She is never late.

Our next guests arrived before 8pm, a French couple with 4-year-old twin boys. Since this couple speaks French and English, and our neighbor speaks German and French, a lot of the conversation went on in French, with me understanding most of it, and then speaking back in English or German. Then if the conversation turned to English, the French woman would translate it into French for our neighbor. Somehow, we all had a good time. The best moment was when the French woman, who just moved to Switzerland a month ago, praised Switzerland for being so clean. Our Swiss neighbor really disagreed.

"No," she said, "it used to be clean a long time ago. Now it is very trashy,"

"Compared to France, it is very clean," said the French woman. And then she started talking about how nice it was not to have to tiptoe around dog poop.

Fashionably late, the Americans, Swedes, and Polish guests began to arrive after 8.30pm, so English began to dominate the conversation, with a bit of French and German thrown in for good measure. Although most people understood some German, even if they couldn't really speak it.

And in Swiss style, the fireworks started exactly at 10pm and lasted exactly 15 minutes, with the clock dinging once right when the fireworks ended. It was really kind of amazing. Anyhow, it was another great party. And the tortilla chips from Germany went over really well with the Jello jigglers in a close second--as most people had never seen such a thing before.

How Swiss are You?

In honor of Swiss Independence Day today, I have included some information I read about in "Blick am Abend" about the average Swiss citizen. I found it all very interesting.

The average Swiss citizen has been married for eight years, lives in a 4-room apartment, and owns a blue sofa.

The average Swiss wife gives up her career chances due to a lack of child day care and day-long school days. She is not happy about this.

The average wife cleans, cooks, and does laundry totaling an average of 53 hours a week (wow, this puts me to shame...) while the average man does housework for 26 hours a week. (And now we know why Swiss apartments are spotless and why our neighbor can't believe our mess).

The average man ears 6650 Francs a month (6353 USD). The wife contributes 2200 Francs (2102 USD) per month. For an average household income of 8850 Francs (8455 USD) a month.

Due to Swiss budgets, most entertainment consists of hiking in the mountains since that is free.

The Swiss spend a lot of money on food as they are "quality conscious".

90% shop at Migros or Coop (well, there really are no other stores...) and spend 5895 Francs on groceries a year.

99% of Swiss wash their hands after going to the bathroom. What more could you want to know?

Happy Swiss Independence Day!

The Non-smoking Glass Box of Baden

I loved visiting Berlin because it was so free of the smoke that chokes Switzerland’s public transportation platforms. The train station at Potsdamer Platz was full of clear air and the floors were spotless, not a cigarette butt in sight.

It’s a very different site to come back to Zurich, where smoke rises from the tracks like it’s a bakery but smells more like a bar. I think what’s upsetting about this, is that as a non-smoker, I have no choice but to breathe this air. Set up smoking rooms, fine, but to just have the main transport artery of the country in such a disgusting environment doesn’t make Zurich seem very ahead of the times or classy. After all, this is the first impression most people get of the city.

While other European countries and cities are banning smoking in stations all together, or creating small walled-off smoking areas, in my town of Baden, it's just the opposite--they have one tiny non-smoking waiting room on the tracks. But since it's summer, it's way to hot to sit in a glass cage, (you can see where the non-smokers rank), so I have developed a new train waiting strategy. I stand as far away from all people as possible at the edge of the tracks and only when the train pulls up do I come closer. It’s just too disgusting. You move over to avoid smoke being blown in your face on one side, only to have someone on the other side’s ashes burning little holes in your clothes.

I liked what David Sedaris said about the Japanese smoking signs in his new book “When You Are Engulfed in Flames”. Instead of saying “Smoking will kill you,” the signs in Japan say things more hard-hitting, like “cigarettes are 700 degrees and you hold them at the height of a child’s head”. These signs more than anything else, make me really interested in visiting Japan. I think Switzerland could use signs like these. Because dying and caring about the health of others are not really a consideration here.

What a (Swiss) Day

Today I had one of those days. Well, one of those days you could only have in Switzerland. Just a bunch of little things adding up to utter irritation. I sweated in the 85 degree office. I endured the "oh, yeah, we have to do this in English," comments of million-language fluent peoples. I went to lunch at 12.45 so there were no sandwiches left at the bakery. I had to work until 7 so I couldn't go shopping for our party on Friday night and will now have to shop on Friday in Germany as the Swiss stores will be closed. I had to write in English so it could be translated into German and then into French. Who knows what it said by the end of this translation train. Then a bunch of people were not standing to the proper side of the escalator in the Zurich train station so I patiently stood behind them only to have a Swiss woman come barreling past me, scraping my leg with her bag and almost knocking everyone over. Great. But at least my train ride home was actually cool for a change. And that is really something.

Long Live the Ampelmann!

So much of Berlin seems to have tried to rid itself of its past, or is still figuring out how to deal with it. But they have left up the light signals from the former east and west, so you can still clearly see when you’re walking over the now mostly non-existent Wall. This failed to lose its allure for me, even after three days in Berlin, so I have many shots of the so called “Ampelmännchen” (little traffic light man—what a very German word indeed). In this photo you can clearly see the two different lights—the generic one from the west, and the 1961 designed Ampelmann from the east.

Street Deutsch

Let’s say you put money in a parking meter in Germany and it fails to work. With a limited vocabulary, you may only be able to express things like, “Es funktioniert nicht,” (It doesn’t work). This is a rather boring phrase and does not express the real emotion of losing two Euros (especially with the terrible exchange rates these days). In this case, you need to forgo the grammar book and pull out a little street German. These are all phrases heard, duh, on the street. It’s important to be able to pick these out for future reference. Here’s one from this very situation, picked up from a women in Berlin. So now you don’t have to say, “it doesn’t work,” You can do like a real mad German woman and say:

“Meine Gute! Was ist passiert?” (My God! What happened?)

Or instead of learning words like “businessmen” and “to work”, how about what to say when your business partner stands you up to an important awards ceremony and you are stuck on a 3-hour train to Geneva without him? This was another complicated situation I was fortunate enough to witness, and this is what you say:

“Ich bin stinksauer!” (I am pissed!)

So now you know two of the most useful phrases in the German language. And that’s worth a Zertifikat if I do say so myself.

The People of Berlin

In Switzerland, people don't even look at you when you pass them on the street. They are appropriately, very neutral. But in Berlin, they really get into things--either nicely or angrily. Overall, the people in Berlin showed much more emotional range than the people in Zurich.

When we first arrived and were in the subway station trying to figure out the direction of the hotel on our map, a friendly guy helped us (auf deutsch, natürlich). That evening, we were asked by a young Berliner if we liked his haircut as he wasn't sure if he liked it. It was all very amusing.

But then there were the crabby Berliners. The restaurant bathroom attendant at a pub where we ate--I didn't know the German tradition of bathroom attendants at restaurants since the Swiss have nothing like that. So I didn't have any change and apologized to him, saying, "I'm sorry, I don't have any change." He said back, "I know," in a very rude voice. Needless to say, I felt terrible but my husband and I did manage to spend 25 Euros on dinner at the establishment so it's not like they were really losing out.

Then at this same pub, a bunch of angry old people tried to sit between us and all around us while we had just started eating. They were taking chairs, waving their crutches at us, it was really ridiculous. Finally our waiter had to tell them to leave us alone. And we watched them go to another restaurant and do the same thing to some other people.

But when you think about it, it makes sense for a people with such a divided and tragic history to have a wider range of emotions than people from a country like Switzerland. It's interesting to see how people mimic their country's history--and it shows itself in fashion too. The fashion of Berlin looked as confused as its city's history. People wore just about anything--socks with sandals, gladiator leather boots in 95 degree weather, orange crocs with red bermuda shorts, and women sported blue hair. Needless to say, while a little strange, it was very refreshing to see so much color, as the Swiss favorite color of choice, as I've mentioned before, is the very neutral black.

Crop Off My Shoes, See if I Care

Today at work we had to brief an illustrator to draw a storyboard for a commercial. The TV spot was going to feature a woman of my age and the art director decided he wanted the woman in the ad to be wearing a shirt like mine.

So he took a photo of me to send to the illustrator so he would know the kind of high fashion we wanted the woman to be wearing in his drawing.

I took this as a compliment until, upon opening the photo on his computer, the art director said,

"Well, we don't want those shoes in there, so I'll just crop it," and with one fatal mouse swoop, he managed to not only reduce me to a double amputee, but also to squash my pride.

But I'm the first to admit that Birkenstocks are not the most flattering shoe in the world, but I am just not the stiletto type and refuse to suffer for fashion, especially since my day involves a lot of walking to and from work.

So imagine my silent glee, when coming home from work, a woman gets on the train, takes off her high heels to rest her feat on the seat opposite her, and has two big bandages covering her toes.

All I could think was, ah, if my art director only had his mouse now, her feet would be reduced to pixels with no real purpose--except to give the delete key a reason for being.

Don't Call Me, I'll Call You

As I was about to dump the vegetables intended for my salad onto my mac and cheese as to not waste them (see Salad Surprise below), the phone rang.

It was my husband and he was teaching some Polish guy in Warsaw how to play darts. I heard bar noise, I heard my husband explaining the rules. I heard the Polish guy asking questions. But I didn't hear my husband answer my three "hellos".

Then I heard different numbers on the phone being pressed, obviously by mistake. This is one of those classic situations where the spouse left behind while her husband is on a business trip finds out something she shouldn't and ends the marriage.

However, last night my husband called me for real and told me he'd be at a bar tonight playing darts. And what do you know. He's good to his word. Not that I ever doubted him anyway.

And by the way, next time I'll skip the raw onions on the mac and cheese. They're making my stomach burn.

Salad Surprise

As I was dumping a good amount of fresh washed lettuce into a salad bowl, a leaf starts moving. Turns out it was a nice fat green worm. He survived living in my fridge for 24 hours and a lettuce washing and was curled up on a leaf waving his tail at me.

Needless to say I was not as happy about seeing him and promptly deposited him outside on the balcony along with a few lettuce pieces while dumping the rest of the lettuce in the trash.

So now, having had to work until 8pm and not getting home until 9pm, my fridge is bare and the salad I planned to eat is no good and no stores are open.

So what will I eat? The trusted never spoiled or wormy Kraft Mac and Cheese. Thank God I went home to the states at the beginning of this month and picked up some good old processed foods or I'd be starving tonight.

Now if you'll excuse me, my noodles have boiled.

Cherries, Gladiolas, Sunflowers and a Castle

On Saturday we finally had a nice summer day in Switzerland. On Sunday it rained again, so in the last 2 weekends we are 1/4. Needless to say, we always take advantage of a nice day when we can since they don't come too often.

The best thing about July in Switzerland are the fields of sunflowers. I love biking through them. My husband suggested a new ride that he had scoped out, but since it involved climbing 2 very large hills I was not so excited, but because the ride went to a castle I finally was convinced.

The ride from Baden to Regensberg didn't let me down. Not only was I always climbing up and up, but we found plenty of fields of sunflowers to keep me happy as well as a couple of cherry trees that we picked a few cherries from. The castle emerged from a distance and was worth the final hill up. The town of Regensberg is beautiful, small, and has great views of the surrounding area including Zurich's airport. We ate our lunch on a bench overlooking the area and then paid a franc to climb the tower of the castle.

On the way home, we stopped at a farm where we could pick our own gladiolas from the field. For 6 francs we got 5 red and white gladiolas and I tied them to the back of my bike and rode home through the hills looking my most European ever.

Gotta Love the USA

Every time I return to the U.S. I am always amazed by something. Like this sign that was as big as some European buildings advertising a quarter pound Polish Sausage and a 20 oz drink with free refills for only $1.50 at CostCo. There are not many places with a deal like this left in the world.

My European looking, American bought wardrobe

When I was in Chicago over the 4th, my mother-in-law took me shopping at Oakbrook Mall. Three of my favorite stores are all together there--The Limited, The GAP, and Express.

Since I moved to Europe, my shopping habits are much different. While I don't consciously look for clothes in black and white, that's what I always end up getting.

After my shopping trip with my mother-in-law, I had acquired:
1. A black, white and tan skirt
2. A white shirt
3. An off-white shirt
4. A black and off-white shirt

It all sounds a bit boring, but my European colleagues have been very complimentary of my new clothes, so my fashion tastes must be adjusting well. Today, for instance, I wore a shirt I never would have worn 5 years ago (it is very European looking--long and flared)and got 2 compliments so far--one from a German woman and one from a Swiss guy.

But the best part is, I got all my European looking clothes at American prices. And that is really the icing on the cake.

The Four Seasons: Winter, Winter, Winter and Winter

After living in Switzerland for over 2 years, I think it is fair for me to say that the weather sucks. Right now it's mid-July, and it feels like March. It's been raining for three days straight and it's so cold that I considered getting out my little space heater to warm my toes. I keep thinking, maybe I'm not being fair, that this is just a freak incident, but then I thought back to last July, when my aunt was here and we went hiking. I couldn't even hold my hiking sticks without my fingers freezing off. So no, this weather, sadly enough, appears to be normal.

My husband, being the great boss that he is, organized a team-building outing for his department. It was a build-a-bridge very engineering activity somewhere outdoors near Lake Zurich. Even they were calling him this morning, saying his event may be cancelled due to weather. Never mind the fact that this weekend he went out of his way to buy vegi burgers for one of his employees to grill at the lunch, where he figured the choice of sausages or sausages wouldn't really cut it for the vegetarian on his team.

The main problem is that in Switzerland, there is just not much to do when the weather is bad. Sundays are the worst since no stores are open. Yesterday, after jogging in the rain, we decided to check out Musee Bizarre in Baden for lack of anything else to do. Like most Swiss museums, it took longer to get there than to go through the museum. There was about three tiny rooms of exhibit and the museum was the size of our apartment. Still, the size did not seem to influence the price, as we still paid 20 CHF total for our 10 minutes of amusement.

Of course, there are pleasant days scattered here and there. You just never know when they will be. The only thing you can guarantee is that they'll probably fall on a Wednesday.

The only redeeming factor to all of this is that at least now I'm starting to understand why no one smiles. It's hard to look happy when the even the sun is a foreigner. It's November on everyone's faces all year, but really, who can blame them?

America's Shameless Marketing of Debt

When I was shopping at home last week in the Chicago area (which was a lot since the prices are so much better than in Switzerland), it never failed that while at the cash register I was asked if I would like to save an additional 15% by opening a store credit card.

Now on one hand, this pleased me because I could understand exactly what I was being asked. But on the other hand, it scared me.

Every store in America appears to have its coordinating credit card. The Limited, Guess, Express, Kohl's, you name it, you'll get asked if you want their card. If I had been so inclined, I could have opened over 10 credit cards while I was home, flown back to Switzerland, and racked up debt for as long as I pleased.

Instead, I paid for everything with dollars, which appears to be as foreign to the salespeople as if I had whipped out some Swiss Francs. Holding my $50 bill up to the light, they stared at it like I was a counterfeit criminal. No wonder people use their credit cards. That kind of treatment is just uncalled for. It was all very different from handing over a similar amount in Switzerland, where 50 CHF is treated as pocket change and isn't given a second glance at the register.

Anyhow, the highlight of my US shopping trips happened at the GAP at the Chicago Outlet Mall. I found a headband in the sale section for 47 cents. Yes. I could not believe it, and had to buy it just on principal that in Switzerland you can't even buy a banana for that price. And as I took the headband to the counter, the salesman rang it up, with tax, to 51 cents. And then he added,

"Would you like to save an additional 15% today by opening a GAP credit card?"

It took everything in my power not to laugh. Common sense, it appears, has disappeared in America along with the concept of saving. But I, I took the path of a good Swiss resident, and paid my 51 cents right then and there. In cold, hard cash.

Back to Deutsch

Yesterday I went back to German class after a few weeks of indulging in no-thought-required-English immersion. I knew I'd be behind, but just figured I could zone out, jet lagged style, and listen to what was going on and figure things out slowly.

Well that strategy failed to work. Because I was the only one in class yesterday. So I had an hour and a half of non-stop German speaking, Grammar, and my own personal catch-up lesson. On one hand, it was great. On the other, I was so tired!

My German teacher is very disappointed that I have not signed up to take the first official German certificate exam in September. There are a number of reasons for this:

1. It costs 270 CHF
2. It takes an entire day
3. When you sign up, you don't know the date or time of your test until you've paid. (The test could be anytime Sept 1-10). I don't know how many working and traveling professionals can just keep 10 days free while waiting for the Test Authorities to decide a date and time.
4. My in-laws will be in town that entire time and we will be traveling a lot.
5. My point of taking German in the first place was just for survival purposes and to understand if anyone is talking about me behind my back at work
6. Having a certificate and still not being able to say much would be even more humilitating than not having anything at all.

As far as I know, no one else in my class is taking the exam either. I can't say I'm surprised.

Back in Smokerland

I am back in Smokerland. Excuse me, Switzerland. And the first thing I notice upon stepping outside the airport? Smoke.

There are lots of cultural differences between the United States and Switzerland, each have their good and bads, but smoking is definitely one of Switzerland’s worst.

While in the U.S. I enjoyed smoke-free restaurants, bars, and beaches. So even though I was only gone for 10 days, it was still a shock to have to go back to breathing smoke everywhere. In Zurich, the Swiss recently rejected a referendum to ban smoking in restaurants. This is just sad. I don’t think the bar and restaurants realize how many more people would go out if they didn’t have to breathe smoke. After all, if two-thirds of the country doesn’t smoke, then it seems like common sense. And if Italy and France can survive by banning smoking, anyone can.

From Chicago to Madison

Yesterday we took the 2.5 hour drive to Madison, Wisconsin to visit family up there. I have never really paid attention to the scenery on this drive before (and I've been going for 30 years). But living abroad does strange things to your sense of observation and gives you a better appreciation from where you came from.

Anyhow, I really enjoyed the drive. Probably the first time I can ever say that. There were fields of purple clover lining the roads, lots of open fields filled with corn, and cute little red farm houses scattered between billboards advertising cheese and fireworks. That pleased me the most--a billboard that advertises cheese AND fireworks. I mean, what more in life is there?

My other favorite billboard simply said, "WISCONSIN FUN, THIS EXIT". I have no idea what the fun involved as the billboard did not specify, but for me it probably would have consisted of getting a slushy from 7 Eleven and buying something under a dollar from a vending machine.

In any case, it was a great day, got to see family and watch a sunset over the flat Midwest. I'd forgotten how low the sun can go as in Switzerland you never really see it set with all the hills around where we live. It was a nice thing to relive.

Notes from the Homeland

It is a very strange experience to live abroad and return home to visit. Home for me is a western suburb of Chicago. Here are the major impressions on my 10-day trip thus far:

1. Could not understand my first greeter upon arrival--the passport control man. He spoke terrible English and I kept having to say, "I'm sorry," after not understanding him. It didn't help that he also spoke with a toothpick in his mouth.

2. Dirty, smelly airport. Could only use 1 of 3 stalls in women's bathroom. After "set your bag on the bathroom floor" disgustingly clean Switzerland, this was quite a shock.

3. People saying "good morning" and looking me in the eye when passing while taking walks along the river. They generally looked happy. This was shocking after training myself in Switzerland to never look at people and not to smile.

4. Cheap stuff. Corn is 19 cents an ear. Wow. (In Switzerland an ear costs anywhere from 1.50 to 3.00)

5. Tax that's added after the fact so final prices are strange, like $6.44. (In Switzerland every price ends with a 0 or 5. (There's no such thing as a penny, the Swiss are too rich to bother with that).

6. Books in English. Everywhere and in great quantity. A library where I can read everything and actually look up things and research my writing markets. How great.

7. Vending machines with large drinks that are only 1.25.

8. Cold drinks. Root beer. Cherry Coke. Free water with ice.

9. Friendly dentists that try to find out your life story, even with their hand in your mouth.

10. A grocery store with a produce section that's the size of an entire Swiss grocery store. Carts that are twice as wide and no need for a dollar deposit coin to use them.

11. Lack of environmental concern--stores blasting A/C with their doors wide open, little use of shades to block sun, abundance of free bags at grocery store and baggers to pack your stuff.

12. Processed food in great abundance, huge portions, greasy food.

13. Trying to pretend I live a normal life with my hairdresser as to not complicate matters by discussing overseas living.

14. Huge green lawns. Houses that look ridiculous they are so large.

15. Bottomless, cold drinks. Sigh.

And I'm sure, more to come.

Feet up, economy-style

I have to say on Friday I experienced a first. Having an exit row seat on an international flight. It was great. It was not really a window seat, because there was just the wall and a big slide cover in the way of my space, but the great part was, I could put my feet up on it. And I could get up to use the bathroom without disturbing the two women next to me. What an experience.

Flying KLM is nice because when you check in online, you can acutally choose an exit row seat right there and then. Every flight I've flown with them and checked in online I have gotten an exit row seat. That's three exit row flights! I wanted to get out my camera to take a photo of my feet up in economy class but I was just too tired to do so. So you'll just have to imagine.

American Clothes

The only time I really get use out of my American clothes is when I go on vacation. Don’t ask me why, but somehow when I’m a plane ride away from Switzerland, I feel like I can suddenly break out the Americana. The running shoes, the sweatshirts, the shorts. They all get celebrated with equal pleasure and vicariousness. (I held back on going all out and bringing the sweatpants to Norway, but that was a mistake as Norwegians actually wear these.)

Now that I'm heading to Chicago tomorrow, I will revel in everything comfortable for 10 days straight. And it will all come out of my closet at home or from shopping as I plan to bring pretty empty suitcases.

But this time, I won't be going into "I'm a tourist and I don't care" attitude about my clothing. Because no one will notice anything strange if I prance around in flannel (except of course that it's out of season). After all, what is sold as pajamas in Switzerland are sold as street clothes in the US. And the fun part will be seeing what I bring back with me and making that same realization all over again.

The Most American Pizza in Europe

This pizza pleased me in two ways: it was huge and it tasted like America. You can find this amazing piece of Gourmet cooking at a hole in the wall called Aladdin in Alesund, Norway for about 40 USD. It was so good and cheap (for Norway) that we went there two nights in a row. Mmmm.

The other bonus? You get ice in a glass along with your chilled bottle of soda. What more could an American expat want?

Duty Free Rush in Oslo

The first thing I noticed upon landing in Oslo was the entire interior of the airport was made of wood. The second thing I noticed was that the duty free store was next to the baggage claim. And I, my husband, and a crazy French woman were the only ones next to the luggage belt.

"I go to Trondheim," said the French woman to us, like we should care. She showed us her ticket.

"That's nice," we said politely.

"But do I get my bag here? Why is no one here?"

We stared back at the duty free store that the passengers on our plane were now raiding like teenagers that had just turned 21.

"They're all at duty free," I pointed out to the woman.

I turned to my husband, wondering if we too were missing something by not rushing into the duty free store. I had never seen a duty free store location near a baggage claim, so it was a bizarre sight to see Norwegian citizens grabbing wines and beers like there was no tomorrow in Oslo. But I didn't have any Norwegian currency yet and I didn't see an ATM in the entire space. So the duty free was obviously only for the Norwegians. And no one else. It was very bizarre.

When departing Norway from Bergen 10 days later, my husband examined the duty free store now that we knew a bit more about Norway. Basically, the reason is this. In a grocery store, a six pack of beer costs 160 Kroner (over 30 USD). In the duty free store, the same six pack costs 40 Kroner (8 USD). That is how much tax is on alcohol in Norway. Now all the mad rush and location of the duty free store in Oslo (as well as the high consumption of free wine on our flight) made complete sense. Cheers to that.

Hey!

Greetings from Norway! Just a short post. Today we took the ferry through the fjords. It was beautiful but cold! In Norway "hey" means "hello". It really threw me off the first couple of times. I just thought, what a casual, friendly place!

Anyhow, my husband did his 21k, 1500m bike race up a fjord on Saturday while I did the 16k, 1000m hike. They were both a challenge, but the weather was just gorgeous and I should get the prize for the most photos taken while hiking!

Everything here is very expensive. Tonight we are staying in a hostel which has the equivalent price of a night at the Westin in the US. Crazy. A six pack of beer from the grocery store costs 30 USD. Etc.

Anyhow, just a quick link to my article in the Monitor in case you are interested and didn't find it before.

http://www.csmonitor.com/2008/0613/p19s04-hfes.html

Will catch up with more stories from Norway and Europe in a few days.

Bigger than my Blog

For many years, my mother has been my most devoted reader of my writing. While working as a copywriter, I also started writing for a local paper in Richmond. That was four years ago. In between I picked up a few publications: a small, national singing magazine. A publication in Zurich. And a few others along the way. But my big debut will be tomorrow, Friday the 13th. My lucky day.

I will have an essay about my crazy father published by the Christian Science Monitor. It's about how my childhood was filled with intellectual activities thanks to my "devoted to learning" father. You will be able to read it on Friday the 13th and over the weekend at http://www.csmonitor.com/homeforum

The Real Standard of Living in Zurich

You can tell a lot about a country by riding public transportation. The other day, I was sitting on a very crowded tram, boxed in by people sitting on one side of me and standing on another. Then a very old woman gets on. She must have been in her 80s. I waited for someone near her to give up their seat but no one did. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t have been able to get back to where I was sitting with all the people blocking the way, but I just thought, man, what a country. Yes, it’s clean and safe—an old woman will never have her purse snatched. But she will have her seat taken. Sometimes I wonder, what’s worse?

I was out with some expats last night and a friend that had a baby four months ago was telling me similar stories. She’ll be struggling to exit a store a Zurich, juggling bags and a stroller, and the shopkeepers will just chat with each other and watch. Last week, she waited over ten minutes until someone was nice enough to hold the door so she could get into Starbucks. I mean please, how can a place like Zurich be rated consistently as one of the best places in the world to live, yet treat people in such a fashion?

The worst part is that I have had to train myself to deal with the rudeness just to survive. So I'll push at people to get on trains. I'll dress is black. I'll not smile (very hard for an American).

When I visit other countries I will still be in my Swiss manners mode until I realize I am being a jerk because no one else is acting like that.

In London, I pushed into people with my luggage so I would be able to get off the underground before people rushed on and didn't let me out. But the English gave me dirty looks as I crawled across them before the tube stopped. Then, I was surprised to discover that people waiting to get on stood out of the way, letting others off and it was no big deal for me to rush and act like a lunatic. I was embarrassed. I never would have done this two years ago. But this is what happens after living in a highly rated city for two years. And as I rode the escalator and emerged into the London streets, I just thought, give me a dirty sidewalk any day. As long as it comes with a smile and some old fashioned manners.

Something to see in France

It's been a month since I went to Provence, but I forgot to write about something amazing that I saw.

While I've been to France four times in the last seven years, I had yet to witness a French person being remotely grateful (or even pleasant) to an American, even though without our grandfathers, they'd be speaking German.

So imagine my surprise, to be wandering Arles, only to run into a gigantic rock with 2 American soldiers' pictures on them. Yes. There is an actual monument to honor two Americans. You are not mistaken in what you have just read. The monument honors two Lieutenents who crashed in Arles in 1944 while defending France during WWII. "City of Arles Grateful Recognition, For our liberty," read the stone.

I almost did a double take. But it was real. Of course, it took the city 58 years to bring themselves to admit such a thing (the rock was dedicated in 2002). But even so, that's a big step for the French and I appreciate their efforts.

Never mind being Van Gogh's town, it's the whole rock thing that definitely makes Arles the best city in France, at least for an American looking to soothe their soul a bit after being treated like Merde by the French. I highy recommend it.

Total Chaos

Before I moved to Switzerland I thought, "what a nice quiet place to live."

I was wrong. Living in Switzerland is more like living in the center of the track at a non-stop NASCAR race.

Right now, there is a progression of non-stop honking and screaming due to a few EURO matches (that will go on until June 29) that is louder than anything I have ever experienced in New York City. And I'm not even living in Zurich. I'm living in a little spa town of 16,000 called Baden.

"Well, what do you expect, we do live in the center of town," my husband says.

And he's right. But give me a break. I lived in the center of Richmond, VA for 3 years before. And it was never this loud. The occasional gun shots, sure. The sirens of police cars and firetrucks every couple of hours. A few drunks on the weekends. But never have I experienced such a never-ending series of parties, loud music, never-ending construction projects, and crazy teenagers.

It wouldn't be so bad if these things weren't juxtaposed with strict rules of quietness--not flushing the toilet after 10pm. Not doing laundry on a Sunday. Not recycling a bottle after 8 pm. Please. Give me a break. What about the construction workers that start using a jackhammer before 7 am right outside my window? What about the non-stop party last August where I couldn't sleep for 10 nights straight due to obnoxious blasted music and screaming people? What about carnival, where brass bands that only know one song are allowed to play it all night long for a week on the streets?

As I write this, it's after 11.30 pm. And there's no telling when it will be quiet enough to sleep. Why I went to the doctor yesterday to get my ears cleaned out is anyone's guess. Thank God we're headed to Norway in a few days. I've had all the screaming, honking, banging, and jackhammering that my nerves can take.

You want what with your sandwich?

Every time I purchase chips to go with my lunch, it never fails that either a Swiss or German colleague will question my decision.

"Chips for lunch?" said my Swiss friend, wrinkling his nose as I put some potato chips in my shopping basket along with my fruit.

"Yeah, I'm getting a sandwich from the take-way," I replied. (Even the strange word, "take-away" is starting to become more normal than "carry-out" for me after living here for two years.)

He still had a blank look on his face. There was no connection between chips and a sandwich for him.

And who can blame him. In Europe, chips are never marketed to be eaten with sandwiches and I still have yet to figure out what people eat them with.

Instead, at take-away counters, sandwiches are meant to be eaten either alone or with a small fruit salad. I have to make a special effort to get chips by going inside a grocery store if I want to coordinate my lunch properly.

But all I can say, is, it's worth it--despite the never-ending questioning. Obviously these people have never been to Subway. But soon Subway will make it's way to them. Let's just hope it gets here sooner rather than later. For my sake, anyhow.

Burgerbuster

Burgerbuster. That's me. I admit it. I actually stopped a man from eating a burger in mid-bite. I don't think I've ever done such a thing before, but then again, today was the first time I witnessed someone eating a hamburger (with a bun) like they'd eat any other piece of meat--with a fork and knife.

Ok. It's one thing to cut a burger in half. But to slice the burger bit by bit like it's filet mignon or something is just downright offensive. At least to an American.

"But I'll get my hands messy," was the defensive Swiss reply, as my friend put a delicate slice of hamburger in his mouth and then stabbed a french fry with his fork.

I sighed, unwilling to admit defeat despite being surrounded by six Swiss people. While I'll put up with the whole french fries with the fork thing, I put my foot down with it comes to a eating a burger on a bun with a knife and fork. That's plain sacrilege.

Luckily, my friend is very international in his outlook, and agreed to eat the meal like a true American. And that is one upstanding Swiss citizen. It was really an experience for him, eating this burger without utensils, and I was very proud of his courage.

But my since my Swiss friend really likes being the center of attention, eating a hamburger American style is just another trick to add to his show collection--as the rest of the Swiss people at our table were no doubt entertained to witness such a spectacle.

But after the meal was over, my friend insisted on washing his hands. Yes, it was time to come clean. And no one is better at doing that than the Swiss.

Good Afternoon, It's the Frau (oh wait, that's me)

Today I had to make two appointments. This may not sound like a big deal, but throw in another language and it becomes as major as the Magna Carta. But I was determined to persevere.

To make sure I did the German greeting right, I wrote it down. Because otherwise I would have resorted to a friendly "hello" and the German speaker would have been thrown off by not knowing who was calling.

I did this pretty well, even included a "Frau" with my name and that was a big step because I really hate the word "Frau". It sounds so dowdy and old. Anyone called "Frau" automatically has gray hair and wrinkles in my mind. So I guess at age 30 I finally fit the word.

I also guaranteed myself success by throwing in a "Guten Tag" with my Frau introduction. This way, they know it's a high German speaker right off, as the Swiss don't usually use "Guten Tag".

It worked well. Both receptionists I talked to immediately switched to high German after hearing my "Guten Tag". I even managed a "weil" construction and put the verb in the right place. This is total victory in German. To be able to say, "No that's not good, because I'll be on vacation then" and not screw up the sentence is an amazing achievement. Trust me.

I understood 90% of the calls, enough to answer every question with only a few minor mess-ups. For instance, the first receptionist thinks my first name is spelled Chental. But that's ok. A mistake I can live with.

The real test will be if I got the date and times right. And only time will tell.

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.

Blog Correction

A week or two ago, one of my Swiss friends discovered my blog. Therefore, I have updated a recent entry, due to his thoughtful comments on my horrendous use of the German language.

While I wrote “Nächste Halt, Genf” (Next stop, Geneva) as the title, the correct spelling is actually “Nächster Halt, Genf”.

Yes. I had the nerve (or in this case the ignorance) to leave off the “R” on "Nächster". This is really terrible, because without the final R, a German speaker is left very upset and confused.

Not about the meaning of the phrase, mind you. But by using only an “e” on the end of the word, I have unknowingly declared the word “stop” to be feminine when it is in fact masculine. This is really offensive (think about how guys feel when someone calls them a girl) and I apologize to any German readership. It must be unimaginable to a German speaker to be so ignorant as to go through life thinking “stop” is sexless and then at last minute, declare it feminine just for the heck of it.

After all, what could be more important than knowing things such as, oh wow, the word “paper” is neutral (maybe because it’s blank), but the word “girl” is also neutral (what?), but “mistake” is masculine (finally, one that makes sense).

In any case, I must be extra careful as I try to write snippets of foreign languages as my readership has expanded to include a few more people besides just my mother. But as I’m still pretty clueless when it comes to the German language, I offer a hearty Entschuldigung to all my German readers in advance. And in the future, please let me know my mistakes (especially the masculine ones, as those are the most satisfying). Thanks.

Talking Shit

Sometimes I wonder why I can never seem to get anything done on my days off. Today, at least, it’s because I’m dealing with shit. Literally.

I finally get down to editing an essay I am working on. Then, when I’m finally getting somewhere on it, I look over and see I have company.

A bird. Who’s sitting happily on our family room armchair.

Now I am all for big, wall-sized Swiss windows that open like doors, but the whole lack of screen thing is a little third world. Especially since there’s a lack of air conditioning along with it.

Due to this, I have two choices in the summer. Sweat to death. Or live like I’m on a campground.

It’s one thing to be chasing around huge bees and wasps while you’re trying to work. It’s another to have to deal with birds.

As I’m trying to get the bird to get off the armchair, he poops with no remorse and then flies to sit on our houseplant. I open the windows as wide as they’ll go and try to get him outside. But he flies the other way, bouncing right off the opposite window.

He doesn’t die. Instead he hides behind the armchair, probably soiling the curtains while he’s at it. So I run to the kitchen to try the breadcrumb thing. No luck. Finally he tries out the other houseplant. I wave him off and he flies toward me, almost hitting me in the head, causing me to scream. And then, finally, he flies out the windows.

Can I get back to work? No. Because I have to open Google and research how to get bird poop off furniture. But all I can find is a product called Poop-Off, definitely a U.S. product. So I give up and try the dish soap approach. We’ll see how that turns out.

Yep. Another day of life in Switzerland. How time flies. Especially when you’re chasing things that also do.

Me and the (Swiss) Boys, Part II

This continues my night out with the Swiss film club.

After the meal we walked a few blocks to the cinema. It was surprisingly large for a Swiss theater and the kind of place that makes you feel guilty for actually buying popcorn as the floor was cleaner than my own so I had no qualms about setting my purse under my seat. (Something I would never do in a US theater as I would probably have to put up a fight to retrieve it from the sticky floor afterwards).

The movie (Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull thing) was in English with German and French subtitles. I mainly ignored them, pleased to be able to understand something for once in this crazy country. I did check the subtitles for words like “insanity” (Wahnsinn) and “stupid” (Dumm) to make sure their meanings were cemented in my head, as these kinds of words are always the most useful in a strange place.

The other thing I focused on was my laugh. Because usually it was alone in its glory. I laughed when the kid Mutt said, “My mother’s going to have a cow,” because I haven’t heard that phrase since high school. But apparently they don't say that in Switzerland, although they should really learn it as it would be most appropriate.

They say people feed off each other’s reactions when watching movies together, but this clearly is not the case, at least in Switzerland as no other Swiss felt like following my laugh at such things as a joke about Sears Roebuck and company. But hey, solo laughing in a theater is part of the experience.

I was thrown off by the intermission, which is not strategically placed at any certain point in the story, just when the reel runs out, so in the middle of a battle scene, suddenly the lights come on, which is jarring no matter if you expect an intermission or not.

Overall, I felt the movie lacked an emotional connection, but my Swiss friend was in love from the beginning since it brought him back to being 16 again, and for that reason alone, it was worth the viewing. The effects were fun, and the first half was entertaining enough, but it really fell apart after the intermission. Suddenly skeletons were turning to aliens and poor Dr. Jones went through two hours of battling the evil Soviets and termites to discover nothing but knowledge. What a disappointment. Who wants knowledge when you can conquer a kingdom or something? Oh well. It was a fun evening out anyhow.

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.

Train Talk

After two years of living without, yes, a car, I am still trying to get comfortable with the set-up of Swiss trains. I grew up in the Chicago area, where the Metra train cars were set up so everyone sat facing forward. To pass the time going by suburbs that all looked the same, you stared at the back of the people’s heads sitting in front of you, studying everything from possible dandruff problems to hair so long it threatened to invade your personal space while sitting behind it.

But on Switzerland’s trains, the seats are placed in groups of four facing each other. This is fine if you’re traveling with four people (as long as two of you can ride backwards without getting sick), but it forces strange relationships otherwise, leaving you with only two options: to challenge the person sitting across from you to a staring contest or to read anything in sight. Needless to say, I usually choose to read anything in sight, which in most cases is Heute, the Swiss version of the National Enquirer that litters train seats (yes, they care about Paris Hilton). Unfortunately, this forces me to comprehend the German language faster than is really recommended but it sure beats losing a staring contest to a practiced Swiss citizen.

Seat choice, even for short rides, is also highly important as it could determine whether you are sick for the following month. So I will go so far as to choose my seat based who is already occupying the four-seated group—a reader, a starer, a parent, an iPod blaster, or a cougher. Not surprisingly, I prefer the readers.

The coughers are the worst possible choice. Which brings me to another benefit of these free newspapers. They double as a shield. People here are not trained in the concept of covering their mouths, preferring instead to spew germs on people stupid enough to not have grabbed a freebie paper before taking their seat. Is there any coincidence that germ is very close to German?

For some reason, German speakers have the most horrible coughs I have ever heard. They are deep and throaty and always include some bonus phlegm which they proudly blow out their noses as loud as possible. I can find no explanation for this outpouring of fluid except for the fact that the language spits even at its healthiest based on the plethora of “sch” sounds that comprise it. Add a few germs to 10 “sch” sounds in a row and there you have it. A German cough.

This is not the case in France, where after much careful observation, I have recorded a much more daintier cough and almost no obnoxious nose blowing. This also is a peculiar finding which I can only attribute to the fact the language itself already includes many nasalities and thus perhaps the cough is more disguised because of this.

In conclusion, yes, it’s true. You really don’t need a car to live in Switzerland. But you do need reading material. Never mind the language it’s written in, the bigger it opens, the better. Next time you’re in Switzerland, try the Frankfurter Allgemeine. It won’t let you down.

Shopping in Germany

On Saturday we took the train from Baden, Switzerland to the border town of Waldshut, Germany to do some grocery shopping. The trip takes about 26 minutes. I’m not really sure how much money one actually saves by shopping across the border, as the exchange rate for the Swiss Franc to the Euro is not that great, but still, it’s entertaining and nice to have some different foods every now and then.

Since we started shopping in Germany about a year and a half ago, two more grocery stores have sprung up right next to the train station in Waldshut, making a total of three grocery stores, one right after the other. Obviously these three large grocery stores are not for Waldshut, a town of 22,000 people. They were built for the Swiss border hoppers. And hop they do.

The parking lot outside the Familia (our grocery store of choice out of the three available) is filled with Swiss license plates and most likely these people are inside buying meat, as one can save about 50% on meat prices by shopping in Germany. Since there’s no chicken in the refrigerated section for some reason (too many Swiss have been there by 2pm), we go to the meat counter to order some, until we realize that our Swissified German is not going to cut it.

As I stood at the counter, all I could think was “poulet”, which is the French and also the Swiss German word for chicken. But I could not for the life of me think of the real German word and there was no signage anywhere to remind me. My husband was not ashamed, and asked whether the meat in front of us was “truten oder poulet” (turkey or chicken) anyhow. The woman answered him easily, obviously used to many Swiss asking the same thing, and did not pull any snobby, “oh, you mean Hähnchen…” that someone in France would have done had the situation been different. (see “Does Anybody Here Speak French” entry below).

The other main items of interest were ice cream (half the price as in Switzerland, ironically for a Swiss-made brand), tortilla chips (again about half the price as in Switzerland), Qtips (a quarter of the price), and soap refills (a quarter of the price).

Needless to say it was a profitable and fun trip as I enjoyed reveling in a grocery store bigger than the size of a walk-in closet for once. If only I had a car and a freezer bigger than a shoebox I would buy much, much more (ice cream, at least). But since I’ve now accepted my status as the “Bag Lady of Baden”, dragging my recyclables and groceries in a bright orange IKEA cart between two countries and cities, at least it’s not quite as big a deal as it used to be.