Native Music

You know them. They’re in every city big and small— filling airports, street corners, and bus stations with their pan flutes, native rhythmics, and CD buying options. And they must do ok. Because either they’re well traveled or there are just thousands of these bands. I don’t know. They all sound the same to me. But I plan to start documenting each one I see. So here’s the inaugural group for my project—The Natives of Athens. They even have a nice painting as part of their act. It really sets the mood below the Parthenon.

The Creative Americans

In a German class that consists of people from Belgium, France, Croatia, Britain, Scotland, and the United States it is very interesting to see the approach people from different countries have doing something as simple as describing a picture.

Yesterday, for example, we were each given an image of someone in a hospital to describe as we are on the “hospital” chapter.

The Frenchman described the picture very literally—“there is a man lying in a hospital bed. He has a broken arm.”

The Brit also described his picture literally but with a little more story—“there is a man who is lying in a hospital bed because he had a biking accident.”

Then the American guy read his description—“Herr Schreiner had a biking accident. He is being asked by the nurse where and when and how much beer he was drinking at the time.”

Another American guy read his “Frau Hessler has back pain and is at the doctor. The doctor told her it’s because she has been lifting too heavy of a purse.”

And mine was “Herr Helmut has visitors visiting him after his operation. They brought him flowers and cookies. He was so glad because the hospital food is terrible and the nurse was about to make him eat more.”

Obviously, there was no right or wrong in these descriptions. But the Americans’ definitely got the most laughs and kept the class engaged. Why did all the Americans name the people in the photos? And all give a back-story?

From a very young age, Americans are trained to be individual and creative. From first grade on, we are trained to give “show and tell”. We bring in an object and show it off and tell its story. I think Americans are natural storytellers because of this.

My husband was recently on a conference in Athens where he noticed a related trend. All the Europeans that gave presentations read off PowerPoint slides. Only the Americans and Indonesians did not just read the slides, but told stories and embellished off of them.

So while the American education system is often criticized for many things, I think they have won the game when it comes to teaching people to think creatively. And for that I am thankful to have been raised an American.

Zu Dick?

Apparently Switzerland has an obesity problem. This is news to me. But according to this poster seen in Ennetbaden at a bus station, one in every five kids is “zu dick” or “too fat”. So the Swiss recognize the problem, but are still continuing to build a Burger King 800 meters away from the “zu dick” poster. But why not? It will give the Swiss more of the three things they love best—construction, money, and an excuse to blame foreigners. After all, obesity in Switzerland couldn’t possibly be the fault of the Swiss. Cheese and chocolate will always be innocent.

A New Normal

When you move to another country, three things eventually happen:

1. If you work on learning the language, you actually begin to understand some of it and can even—after a long, hard year and a half--start to even understand at least the main points of office meetings and work-related things. This has been a major step for me that I’ve just started to notice recently. It is no longer so hard to understand at least the main points during meetings and discussions and read basic creative briefings in German as well as understand most feedback. I can ask basic questions in German without having to think through what I want to ask first. It just takes a lot of patience to get to this point without giving up first.

2. Your body begins to act like the country it’s living in. I naturally shove people out of the way, run for the door of the train before it stops, and keep my shopping cart as close to the person in front of me in line as humanly possible. I have also been successfully able to stop smiling at people I pass on the streets and look no one in the eye while jogging along the river. It’s strange how your body just starts doing these things before you realize it. It’s a whole other “retraining.” I can even control one cart while packing another, be ready to pay exactly when the cashier is done scanning my stuff, and successful push both carts at the same time, return the store one, get my coin back, and keep going with my personal cart almost without blinking an eye. I can also type on a German keyboard without making every "Y" a "Z" and vice versa. And pressing "ctrl" + "alt" + "2" to get the "@" sign no longer mystifies me. The lack of personal space here still creeps me out though. Once I get over that I will really have triumphed.

3. You adjust to the new standard of living. Twenty-five dollars for lunch? Almost three thousand dollars for rent? You just pay them and don’t even think about it like you used to. That’s just how much things cost. Of course, it’s still fun to go to Germany for the day and marvel at how much things should cost. But then you get back in the habit again of the paying too much for everything and forget to notice.

Taking down the tree

We took down our xmas tree a little differently this year. First off, we took it down (in the way normal people take it down--i.e. taking ornaments off, etc) before xmas because we didn't want it to dry out while we were gone for over three weeks touring the U.S. from Dec 21-Jan 14.

But the problem was, there was nowhere to put the tree except out on our porch. Since we missed the ONE tree pick-up day in early January, the poor tree has been hanging out on the porch since December. And since it's technically illegal (and you can be fined big bucks) for disposing anything that's garden waste in the regular trash, we had a dilemma on our hands.

The biggest problem is that we have no idea how we are supposed to get rid of "garden waste" legally. It's so complicated (think 15 page booklet in German) that even our Swiss neighbor doesn't even bother, and prefers to live on the wild side by disguising yard trimmings as regular trash in dark, black innocent-looking trash bags.

So we knew just what to do. The tree was going down. Literally. Last year, this was kind of a procedure. But this year, my husband was experienced. He got out his Swiss Army knife and got to work on the porch, cutting the tree into little bits. It was really quite impressive. A 6-foot tree cut into little bits with a small pocket knife. But like I said, he had practice from last year.

With the tree cut into bits we stuffed it into a garbage bag and threw it into our trash bin in hopes no one will notice. After all it is March. No one's expecting a tree at this time of year. We'll just have to hope the garbage police have better things to do this week. Like run after the little old lady that had the nerve to throw away a battery.

Francs, Dollars, and not much sense

I just opened my mail to find out that our Swiss bank has charged us another 80 CHF (77 USD) for the privilege of having an ATM card for another year. To someone used to free everything offered by U.S. banks, it can be crazy to think about the charges Swiss banks impose on their customers. The account we have is just a general account anyhow and we get about .1% interest. No, not 1%-- but a measly Point One percent. That gets taxed. Yes, Swiss banks are not cracked up to be everything people think they are.

And for the U.S. citizens trying to do the classic thing rich people do—hide money in a Swiss account—there is a new law in effect beginning for the tax year 2007 that says that all U.S. citizens must report money in foreign bank accounts or be fined $100,000. So needless to say, even though we have a Swiss bank account merely because we live in Switzerland—and not for any other crazy money laundering purpose—we’ll be filling out that form this weekend. Thanks for the extra work, IRS.

Looking at the U.S. from abroad though, I have to say I’m a little scared of going back. Since we moved to Switzerland, the dollar has fallen over 20% against the Swiss Franc. That is scary. We’ve only been here a year and a half. If I go back and work in the U.S. making dollars, will I ever be able to afford travel to Europe again? This is a question that must be difficult for many Americans right now. So on that note, it’s time to go buy my train ticket to Milan!

The One Leg Lift

The Greeks. They are known for the Olympics. They are known for muscular Greek Gods. Not to mention, they are known for the marathon. But what happened between ancient times and today?

The main exercise in modern Greece appears to be the one leg lift. Once on the motorcycle, there is no turning back for the average Greek. Who needs to walk down a sidewalk when you can motor down it instead? Everywhere I went in Greece I had to dodge motorbikes and cars—even on the rare “pedestrian only walkway”. There are still streets in Greece that actually still have lanes painted like running tracks, but the only things running on them are engines.

Motorcycle driving and also motorcycle parking take place on sidewalks, making pedestrians forced to walk anywhere but. Some places, like the island of Mykonos, don’t even bother with sidewalks, because really, what’s the point if they are just used to drive on?

It’s really quite the switch, after getting used to Switzerland, where, if there’s a pedestrian within 2 feet of a sidewalk, a car stops dead in its tracks to let them cross. And there are more hiking trails than roads.

But in Greece, even dogs don’t go for walks. They go for rides. See the above photo taken in Athens for proof.

And they start the kids driving young. As you can see by the first photo, taken on the island of Aegina.

If there’s a mom and three kids and only one motorbike, no worries. They all ride together, the youngest kid perched precariously on the very back of the bike. It makes U.S. seatbelt laws seem rather anal. I’d add a photo of this, but the bike was going too fast for me to capture it.

So if you want a muscular Greek, head to the museum. That’s the only place where you can do two things—see a Greek not on a motorbike—and walk a few kilometers without getting run over.

Top 3 Texas

At lunch yesterday, my German friend started talking about the time he was in Texas. The things that stood out in his mind (in no particular order):

1. The only people he saw outside were 10 Mexicans building a fence. Everyone else was in their climate controlled houses or cars.

2. The entire grocery store was kept at about 55 degrees to keep everything “fresh” with no thought to global warming or customer freezing.

3. People would drive 25 miles to go park in a big parking lot and eat inside a warehouse-sized, windowless Japanese restaurant.

To him, these three things constitute Texas. Since I have not been to this country myself (because let’s be honest, Texas is its own entity), I can only think it sounds about right.

Greece Again

Well, for the last four days I was in Greece for the second time. I was there last year for 10 days and visited Athens, Mykonos, and Santorini.

Needless to say, I wasn’t planning to go back this year, but my husband had a conference in Athens and thus one of us had a free ticket, so we headed there Thursday night and I came back last night. On Saturday we took a day trip to Aegina, the closest of the Greek islands (40 min by boat, 23 EUR round trip per person).

I wasn’t really that excited about the trip to be honest. That sounds terrible, but I like the excitement of stepping off a plane in a completely new place. There’s that rush you get when you have no idea what’s there. I already thought I knew Athens.

But I was wrong. You don’t know a place until you go where the tourists aren’t. Like the meat market, where pigs heads hang from display racks. Like a restaurant off the beaten track where old men drink beer, smoke, and listen to hand held radios at their table. And like the metro, possibly the cleanest part of Athens (and the only place where smoking appears to be banned). For the record, Athens is the smokiest city I’ve been to in Europe.

Greece was better the second time around. Because we had already seen the main sites of Athens, we had a very relaxing time. Of course, we still took a hundred photos of the Acropolis. But this time we knew where to get the best shots. And the best part of being there in Feb/March is that there are barely any tourists and you can get the best shots with no random heads in the way. Plus the weather was great—60s and 70s.

Now I will definitely be open to revisiting cities. You get a whole new perspective the second time around when you aren’t as much of a tourist running around like a chicken with its head cut off!

German. Useful after all.

We spent the weekend in Greece. And as most people know, they speak Greek there. And English is the second language. So what good is German? Actually, it's more useful than you would think. Imagine:

1. Two guys come up to you while you are waiting at the port for a ferry. They want money from you and tell you a sad story in English about how they are soldiers. They ask where you are from. You say "Schweiz". Then they ask, "but do you speak English?" You shake your head and say, "Ich verstehe nicht. Ich spreche Deutsch." They say, "50 cents?" You shrug your shoulders like you don't understand and say "Nein." They give up and move on looking confused.

2. You are sitting on a bench enjoying the 70 degree day in a park in Athens. See picture above for where you could be sitting. Two women approach you and say something in Greek. You stare back at them like they are crazy. But they can't tell you think they're crazy because you're wearing sunglasses. Since you don't say anything, they switch to English. "Do you speak English? We are Jehovah's Witnesses and we are spreading the word." You set down your English magazine and say, "Nein." They look at each other and say, "Oh, you are from Germany. Well we don't have any documentation in German, only Greek and English." They show their documentation. You shake your head, acting confused. They walk on and you get back to your English magazine and enjoy the sun.

End of the Night Shift

A friend of a friend is a radiologist who works for an American hospital but recently moved to Zurich to avoid working the night shift but still work for the same American hospital. Here in Zurich, due to the time zone, he works normal hours by continuing to work the U.S. night shift. And why not? All the work is done by interpreting medical images which are easily transferred via the computer. So perhaps the end of “night shifts,” at least for jobs that can be done via a computer, is over. Now that's globalization.

New York Food. Now in Zurich.

I have found the best restaurant in Zurich. It has an ice machine. I couldn’t figure out how to use it, but still. It is there. This naturally makes it number one in my list. The restaurant is called New York Food. It is right near the Central tram stop.

You can order a sub sandwich from the counter, just like at Subway, except here, you start off ordering in German and then they answer you in English. (Even my German friend got spoken to in English—probably because he was with me). You can even get your sandwich toasted Quiznos style. Sandwiches start at 5,90 CHF. With a small fountain beverage (where you fill it yourself and can attempt the ice machine), expect to spend 9-10 CHF total. There are plenty of places to sit inside. They also have pizzas.

My German friend was very excited to order a BLT. He didn’t know what one was until his first trip to California where he was educated accordingly. Overall, a great spot for a quick American tasting lunch.

Paper Recycling

About every six weeks, there is paper recycling day in Switzerland. It is always announced on a big poster in the middle of town, as forgetting this day means that your paper will pile up for 12 weeks straight.

Unfortunately, when I moved to Switzerland, I realized my garbage and recycling habits were underdeveloped. No longer could I throw things in one big bin and be done with it. No. Recycling in Switzerland is a timely project. Each kind of item has its own place and process.

Paper, for instance, must be tied with strings in neat bundles no larger than about 12 inches high. If you decide it is easier to put out your paper in a paper bag (because let's be honest, that makes complete sense) they will not collect it and leave you instead with both your incorrect paper bundles as well as a note detailing why it was not collected.

Above is a photo of the neat paper bundles that appear every six weeks. When I see these piled in front of my apartment on Friday nights, I always groan and go upstairs for my Friday night fun--trying to tie this stuff in neat bundles. Once, I ran out of string and had to resort to thread as the stores were closed.

What time is it?

For over a year and a half, we have depended on our trusty clock tower, which we can view from our window, to know what time it is. But now, we are in a state of distress as our trusted Swiss advisor has lost its face. But funny enough, it still dings every fifteen minutes 24/7. I just feel bad for the guys working up there. It must be awfully loud!

Shiny Gleaming Garbage Cans

No one else on the set of benches I am sitting on while waiting for the train in Zurich seems to notice that someone is actually scrubbing and shining a garbage can behind us. The Swiss are too busy looking at three things: their watches, the time the train comes in, and their watches. And if the train dares to be late, it will be a news item the next day. But to me, the real news item is that garbage cans are worthy of cleaning.

I saw the sun!

Well, the fog has returned to Zurich today, but for the last week we had bright sun and this is really something for a town that gets more rain a year than London.

Pictured below is the view from my office window in Zurich of the sunset last night. I like my new office because it's 3 sides window, 1 side wall! Glad I took this pic to remember the sky as I'm sure it will be awhile again before the clouds move out.

Valentinstag

Valentine’s Day. In German, it is “Valentinstag”. Naturally. Because the German speakers always manage to take many words and somehow make them into one.

Anyhow, it’s been fun to observe all the men walking around town carrying upside down bouquets because you don’t see that too often—buying flowers seem to be the women’s job. But in either case, whenever the Swiss buy a bouquet of flowers, they carry the flowers facing down. My husband and I ponder this every Saturday during the market that goes on outside our apartment.

Cards don’t seem to be a big thing in Switzerland. For example, on the Snapfish.ch website, you can’t order a photo card like you can in the US. The only things I notice for sale for Valentine’s Day are flowers and chocolate. And mainly there are tulips, not roses for sale. Things are seasonal here, just like in the grocery stores. Right now the only fruits for sale are apples, oranges, bananas, and pears. Others are few and far between, but the one fruit the Swiss did break out in honor of today is the strawberry. These have been in both grocery stores I was in today. And the one across the street from me also had strawberry shaped pastries so naturally I bought two of those.

Thoughts on the Election from Abroad

I have made history. I have voted in the first online primary ever for expatriates. Only those who registered with Democrats Abroad could vote online, there was no online Republican primary. But that was fine with me as I was planning to vote Democratic. Once registered, voting took about one minute. Just had to sign in with name and password and choose the candidate and that was it. Very simple, fast, and efficient. A good experience overall.

From reading the Swiss newspapers, it is hard to tell who the Swiss want to win. The few articles I’ve read in Heute, the local free paper, seem to simply say, “Anything will be better than Bush,” and leave it at that.

The one last week began—“Who will be the next American President—a woman, a black man, a Vietnam Vet, or a Millionaire?” I guess that’s one way to look at it. But aren’t they all millionaires?
The big question that’s been bugging me when it comes to the coverage of the race so far is: Why is it Hillary versus Obama? Shouldn’t it be Senator Clinton versus Senator Obama? Or Barrack versus Hillary? It doesn’t seem fair to use the woman’s first name and the opposing candidate’s last name. At least be consistent. We never had to hear about Bill versus Gore. Or John versus Romney. But even a paper in the UK had this headline last year: “Hillary and Obama vote to cut off Iraq funding.”

Women, like men, deserve respect. If we want change, it should start with a name. It’s something subtle and sometimes unnoticed. But really, something this small would be a huge step ahead for all women. Whether one becomes president or not.

The Vienna Opera House

A visit to the Vienna Opera House is one of the top destinations for any tourist in Vienna. But a better deal than just taking a 35-minute tour for 6,50 Euros is to actually see a performance for half that price. It requires no advance planning other than showing up an hour before performance time to pick up a standing room ticket. Available for either 3,50 Euros or 2 Euros depending where you stand (and they only take cash), it’s the perfect way to experience a more authentic flavor of Vienna. At the 3,50 Euro price, you can watch from right below the Emperor’s Box. When you get in the auditorium, simply do what the Viennese do—tie a scarf around the place you want to stand. And then you can mingle with the dressed up Viennese, watch women fix themselves in the hallway mirrors, and drink wine (that costs more than your ticket!) until show time. And if you’ve seen enough opera at intermission, there’s no guilt in leaving early.

Europe--Love is harder the second year around

At the beginning of this month, we visited Vienna--our first time in Vienna, but our second time in Austria. (We were there in November of 2006 in Salzburg). Back then, I sang along like any other joyful and amazed tourist on the Sound of Music tour, admired the fortress on the hill, and took in a touristy Mozart Dinner concert. All without one thought of, well, boredom.

Fast forward 14 months to Vienna. I liked Vienna--any city that loves and supports classical music has my admiration. But it wasn't love at first sight. And I don't know if any other European city can be any more. Because I'm tainted. I've been to 12 European countries so far (see visual of countries visited), many of them several times. I am no longer easily impressed by Europe. And this makes me sad.

It used to be any sighting of a huge gothic cathedral or a palace gave me goosebumps. But when I saw the cathedral in Vienna, I just thought: it's dirty. And it's dark.

When I saw the Hofburg palace, I thought, well, it looks just like most European palaces. And then I felt mean for being so critical. Shouldn't I be swept away by its beauty? Shouldn't I be taking 20 pictures of it from every angle like the other tourists surrounding me?

I feel guilty for not loving Vienna more. And it's really bringing me down.

According to my husband, I need to accept who I've become instead of fighting it. According to him, I've become a well-traveled person. I need to think of it as a good thing that I'm no longer amazed and impressed by everything. Because it means I've seen a lot. Learned a lot. Become a more educated and well-rounded person.

But somehow for me, that's not an easy thing to embrace. I don't want to be a person that's apathetic. I don't want to be a person that's bored. That always thinks, "Big deal, I used to live right below a 10th century castle."

My husband has a business trip to Athens in a couple weeks. He wants me to come along for the weekend. But I don't know if I want to. Because I've been to Athens. And somehow, I feel like the second time around won't have the same magic. I don't want to be there thinking, "Oh yeah, there's that Acropolis again."

But maybe I need to look at it from another viewpoint--one that says that I'll see the real town I missed on my first trip when my camera was an permanent attachment to my body. That this time I'll notice the people instead of the postcards.

So maybe travel is more interesting the second time around. I just have to convince myself of that. And fast. Before we decide the heck with Europe. Let's go to China.