OMG Switzerland

Final

2010-12-18T05:01:00.001-08:00

This will be my final post. I am returning home to again be near loved ones.

Here I was able to find close friends, widely different rules and perspectives from my own, and new ways to communicate that I had not previously understood. I will take back with me these relationships and memories, and look for ways to inspire from them. And if the opportunity again arises to return to work here, I will know specifically what conditions to create for myself, and how to navigate correctly from the beginning. If only these experiences could be taught without having to experience them first, perhaps all of us could make better choices.

Ciao for now.

Mad Men

2010-09-18T03:57:00.001-07:00

I've just started watching the first season of Mad Men, a show set in a 1950's Madison Avenue advertising firm. I had been hearing about how popular this show was without paying any attention to it, until now. It is not uncommon for me to not know the theme of a popular show. I didn't see any episodes of 24, Lost, or Weeds. I tend more toward the talent shows via youtube and how their creative editors weave in the tearful drama. And, given that I don't watch any TV here because the kids monopolize it with their British shows, I spend most of my free time reading.

But this show, the first episode of Mad Men, struck a particular nerve for me. It pokes fun at American culture 50-plus years ago when gender discrimination and smoking in the work place was the norm, two topics I've been hardwired to be overly sensitive. I suppose the reason I am so sensitive to it even now is because I see a lot of this here, in Switzerland, in 2010... still... far more than I should.

A joke will be made, followed by an awareness that an American is nearby, and, oh, Americans are litigious, so perhaps we shouldn't joke like this right now. Is it that we're litigious? Or are we just far more aware of how we were held accountable for our discriminating behaviors in the only way that was legally available in the past? To change an unwelcome behavior, one (or a group) must change their tolerance for it.

There is still smoking in the buildings in Switzerland. They have spent a little more money to seclude people in a designated space of the building into a phone booth equipped with a vacuum and a filter. I think Americans might have done this, too, at one time. Perhaps they feel the escaping particulates are at an acceptable level, like our FDA allows certain levels of mercury in our farm fish, or acceptable levels of antibiotics and gene manipulations in our farm beef.

Signs of tolerance are still around. Here's a photo of actual chairs, in a commons area, in a business setting. They're cute, no? They're not gender-specific, per se, but the conversations about these chairs, at least those in my presence, always seem to turn gender-specific. Perhaps even this is just to test me and my own tolerance, to see how much more gender humor I can take without walking away. I once wrote in this blog about certain topics still seemingly being stuck in the 1970s here. Maybe my accuracy on the decade was a bit off.

Twelve

2010-09-12T08:33:00.000-07:00

Raising a twelve-year-old is difficult enough. But transfer her to a country who has for the past two years ranked at the top of Global Competitiveness, and some very strange perspectives emerge.

She attends an International school. In this school are the children of people from all over the world. Naturally, some have more means than others. And so the competition begins. We do not have much, and we do not need much. Conversely, my daughter likes to spend her hard-earned babysitting money on certain items with designer-style labels. I like to roll my eyes. I'm pretty sure this is not something I taught her. I'm a man. I'm ignorant to such things.

Today, she went to a birthday party, where more twelve-year-olds were also going to be gathering. She smelled of Abercrombie-ness. She was wearing designer tennis shoes that her aunt gave her for Christmas. She was carrying a designer bag, inside a designer wallet. And her shirt had some other label on it. As we were leaving, a six-year-old girl for whom she babysits was playing outside.

her: Hi.
daughter: Hi.
her: Where are you going?
daughter: A birthday party.
her: Another one?
daughter: Yeah. There are a lot this month.
her: And you're taking your Juice bag?
me: Ha. Juice bag.
daughter: Juicy.
her: Does it have juice in it?

We do live in the land of understatement. Wearing labels and bobbles that show your numbers is scoffed at by the Swiss as very poor taste. And apparently the same by 6-year-olds from England.

Cuss

2010-09-05T11:14:00.000-07:00

I love the process of learning a new language. I learn it like a baby learns to communicate. Lots of grunts and gestures until finally a pattern emerges. But I also like there are cuss words that, for whatever reason, are very easy to remember in a new language. There must be a linguistics paper somewhere that describes why we find a way to store and recall these words far more readily than useful things like "I'm sorry".

But when these words cross over into common colloquialisms, it's even more fun. I learned early when I started coming here that the word "whore" used to be used as an emphasis adjective a decade or two ago: "whore far", "whore big", "whore fast", "whore pretty". It made me laugh to here this. Not something to be used in a business or family setting... just reserved for trusted friends. But then I heard other word substitutions to help tame down the emphasis. In English, we might substitute the word "shoot" for a certain expletive. But because the word "scheibe" is close enough to the same expletive in German, one will say "window" instead.

Now I'm told the Swiss kids use the word "mega" to emphasize: "mega far", "mega big", "mega pretty", or just "mega" on its own to cut down on the number words.

Mega culture.

Limbo

2010-09-04T05:28:00.000-07:00

I walked to the bus stop on yet another rainy dreary day this week, and for two minutes, I was again an American realizing I'm walking around in Europe. I call these moments "waking up only to roll over". It doesn't happen as frequently these days as it did. I've internally adapted to my surroundings, seeing 400 year old buildings that have been restored and maintained, seeing men in their 40s and 50s wearing vests, shorts, and funny little hats scootering around at top speeds in a crowded train station, hearing church bells and cow bells and languages I can't understand, seeing a wide array of varying breads and cheeses and meats and wines without gasping "wow". It's now easy to understand why colonies of immigrants in America would import their favorite parts of their cultures. When I first started writing this blog, a Swiss colleague would occasionally comment about it in private interactions. He found my observations humorous, mentioned he hadn't noticed these things in this way.

Him: "Now I hear church bells all the time where I didn't before."

I've grown a bit more accustomed, maybe even numbed depending on one's perspective toward positive or negative. Yet, I still have that "grass is greener" sense I am not as accepted here as I would be back in my own home town. I'm not implying I would be so welcomed back there, just that there would be less aspects to synchronize in the first three minutes of every interaction. I can't read people here like I thought I could there. All of the signals and anticipated responses are different. I also miss being there during these "rolling over" moments. I am told this is similar to how a person from a remote Swiss German village working in Zürich feels. If they do, I would be surprised at that level of self awareness or interpersonal differentiation. That's a whole new level of which I will never be able to relate. I am still an American working in Switzerland, not truly accepted, but also not fully rejected... just tolerated somewhere in the middle, limbo for now.

Fluffy

2010-09-01T13:58:00.000-07:00

My daughter is a bit frustrated with recent interactions.

her: That's the third time!
Mm: What?
her: Grandmas are supposed to be fluffy and smell like cookies. That mean one just barked at me for reflecting the sun around with my compact mirror. I mean seriously?
me: You did it three times?
her: No. The other day another mean grandma yelled at me for Bear pooping. And a completely different one for walking across her backyard. What's up with the Mean Grandma Gang here??

Fluffy and cookies?

Fashion

2010-08-29T14:07:00.001-07:00

Zurich does at least a couple of things well: Pretty and Money. But who introduced this idea? Man-pris? Come on. When I was growing up, and we grew out of our pants, they called these "high waters" and kindly asked "Are you waiting for a flood?" Now they're a style?

And who thought shorts and suspenders with a funny little hat and a purple vest would be useful? Perhaps the concept of money is also lost on me.

Ah, Swiss people...

F*ing Mosquitos

2010-08-27T15:02:00.001-07:00

Pardon my French.

Food prices in Switzerland (re-revisited)

2010-08-17T13:00:00.001-07:00

Frustrated again with food prices. Let's assume the US dollar and the CH franc are even enough to compare.

- Whole rotisserie chicken in US: Avg 8.00
- Whole rotisserie chicken in Switzerland: Avg 22.00 ... for real.

- Starbuck's grande cappuccino in US: Avg 4.50
- Starbuck's grande cappuccino in Switzerland: Avg 7.00

- Milk in US: Avg 3.50 gallon
- Milk in Switzerland: Avg 1.50 liter

- Gum... omg, gum! I give up.

her: You're complaining about food again? It's better quality, alright?
me: ...

Food prices in Switzerland (revisited)

2010-08-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

For the sake of comparison, let's assume that in the US you can drop in a quarter, turn the knob, and receive 5-7 pieces of gum. These machines exist in even the most disgusting of places, where any 5-year-old is delighted to receive gum for a quarter. Speaking as a 5-year-old, we are aware that the quality will suck, and the gum is quite likely to be stale. It's just a quarter.

But here, one can spend 1.60 on a stimulating pack of gum, similar tasting product, similar life cycle, similar conditions of the gum once purchased.

Even the imported M&M's cost less than a crappy pack of gum. For that kind of money on a pack of gum, I shall expect to be stimulated.

Zurich Street Parade

2010-08-15T07:14:00.000-07:00

There is something very different which happens here once a year. For several hours on a designated day, the downtown area loses its freakin mind. I tried researching the significance of such an event. 600,000 people this 19th year again celebrated techno music. It is said to have evolved more toward love and tolerance since these are easier to understand than techno. I think tolerance has become the primary term as I know of four basic qualities that can characterize this state.

- Alcohol
- A high density of scantily clad humans wandering in theme-less-ness
- Trash
- Loitering

I attempted to capture these with photos the best way I could, but it's safe to assume the quality of alcohol just spans across all of them.

Parallel

2010-08-14T08:40:00.001-07:00

Big cars are hard to park. It's hard enough to parallel park in between two small cars where the space is only supposed to be big enough for another small car. In our apartment, we have a garage with reserved parking. We've been on the "reserved" list since February. No one moves. So, parking on the street is our only option. Usually we park near the bakery. That's a bit of a walk.

Blue parking zones here are free for one hour or whatever the sign says, unless you pay for a permit which then you can park in the designated letter zone as long as you wish. There aren't any of these close by. Yellow zones are restricted, reserved for someone who has paid for it specifically. The yellow ones close by belong to another apartment, reserved for their tenants. So, we get the free white ones, like everyone else. When we're lucky, really lucky, we can find an open one just outside our apartment. But most people just leave their cars parked there forever and take the trains.

Having a car is a nuisance.

McDonald's

2010-08-12T12:37:00.000-07:00

I grew up having a very different emotional response to McDonald's than I have today. I was curious what kind of emotional response a Swiss would have to this. After all, I am attempting to fit in. What is the view of an American corporation attempting to fit in? I asked two Swiss colleagues.

me: Have you seen the McDonald's ads?
1: Ha. Yes.
me: And? What do you think?
1: (sigh) A typical American's thinking... They come here, act like they're Swiss, expect to change us and everything around us.
me: (pause) Oh.
1: (pause) Oh, I mean no disrespect to you. I had actually forgotten to whom I was speaking.

Maybe another opinion might help normalize this first impression.

me: Have you seen the McDonald's ads?
2: Ha. Yes.
me: And? Does it give you any particular emotion?
2: Emotional? Not me, not particularly. I mean I eat there once in a while when I want something fast. But they aren't the first to say they are using local ingredients or local products. Starbucks even says they use Swiss coffee machines in Switzerland.
me: I see. I asked another Swiss person this same question, and it almost sounded anti-American.
2: Well, when the Iraqi war started, lots of people stopped going to McDonald's, Burger King, and Starbucks. Then they came up with these ads to say they aren't just American but they're also Swiss. Pretty clever.

I'm Swiss.

Metrics

2010-08-05T13:06:00.000-07:00

Since starting this blog, here are some metrics about it that are interesting to no one other than me.

Years in Switzerland: Just celebrated 1 year, on August 1st, Swiss National Day
Total posts: 100 (counting this one)
Total number of moderated spam comments: 42 (I love the random auto-spammer comments, usually written in Chinese because they don't even show up on my reports)
Number of visits: 3,516
Number of visitor countries: 49
Number of visitor cities: 416
Avg time spent reading this drivel: 2 minutes, 31 seconds

Top 10 visitor cities:
1. Zurich - 721
2. Rueschlikon - 385
3. Lenexa - 257
4. New York - 136
5. Kansas City - 124
6. Adliswil - 108
7. Lenexa - 92
8. Armonk - 90
9. Kilchberg - 83
10. White Plains - 61

Of the 3,121 google searches which brought visitors to this blog, the top 10 search terms are:
1. omgswitzerland - 71
2. omg switzerland - 36
3. nullachtfünfzehn - 34
4. omg switzerland blog - 18
5. food prices in switzerland - 13
6. omg france - 10
7. mbibler omg - 7
8. food price in switzerland - 6
9. null acht funfzehn - 6
10. food prices switzerland - 5
... and many more variations of similar terms.

Top 3 pages most frequently landed upon which are not the main page:
1. Food Prices - 63
2. Size Matters - 54
3. Nullachtfünfzehn - 48

Metrics, beans... Who's counting?

Driving

2010-07-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

A colleague pointed something out to me today I hadn't noticed...

her: Have you noticed there aren't many stop signs here?
me: Whaaat?
her: It's true. Can you think of any?
me: (long pause) ... No, I actually can't.
her: You can practically count the stop signals on two hands. They're all round-abouts and yield signs.
me: (grunt)
her: And, did you know you're supposed to yield at every intersection to the driver on your right?
me: (sigh) Nope.

Then I got home, and remembered this cute thing in my neighborhood. I suppose it qualifies. Maybe. Otherwise, it's good to have a few reminders, e.g. mirror check and lunch advice.

Moo

2010-07-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

Cows. They play a very prominent role here. Their bells can be heard most days. More cowbell. You can buy these bells in airport souvenir stores. As small as you want, or as big as your head. Cheese, milk, steak, ice cream, cappuccinos... and chicken. Cows are into a whole lot of things here.

That's my son's voice in the background of the video.

Him: The one to the left's milkbag is also big.
Sister: SHHHHH!
Him: It is.

Milkbag.

Gina

2010-07-23T10:44:00.001-07:00

Retrieved my family from the airport this morning. I drove. I'm a bit fearful of driving here. I need a useful GPS. We brought one of those with us from the US and had to install the local maps onto it. Her voice is rude, and she butchers the road names. I call her Gina for no particular reason other than it sounds funny to the kids (sorry if your name is Gina, no offense). Gina the GPS wanted to drive me through downtown Zurich to get to the airport. I decided to ignore Gina, and follow the freeway signs with the airplane on them. In doing so, I learned for the first time there is this huge new tunnel which opened within recent history. Gina has driven me around the backstreets a lot. If I don't pay attention and challenge Gina, double-check her accuracy with my own intuition, she'll direct me into a lake, an open field, a closed road... Either she's not that bright, or she's jealous I'm married.

Anyway, major hugs from the kids made my early-morning adventure worthwhile.

Mosquitoes

2010-07-16T13:53:00.001-07:00

By day, temperatures are blistering hot. By night, temperatures remain sultry, but the windows have to remain open to get a breeze working. OMG, it's flaming hot, and these people don't use air conditioners. "Oh just go jump in a glacier water lake. It'll cool you right off." "You're wearing the wrong clothes, of course you're hot." Last week I was bitching about American frozen air being blown on everything. A few days ago, I was bitching to a friend about the mosquitoes again because 'tis the season once again.

me: I've decided I'm going to re-engineer mosquitoes.
friend: Huh?
me: Yeah. Take all the blood you want, but quit leaving that itchy crap behind. What's that all about?
friend: Did you say re-engineer a mosquito? Are you feeling ok?

Then, this article showed up today from Discover about re-engineering mosquitoes to take away malaria. I hate mosquitoes. I hate little else. I hate mosquitoes.

What???

2010-07-07T04:57:00.001-07:00

I have no idea what has happened to me. I don't like the food in the US any more. Everything has the taste of really low quality corn in it. I have somehow become a picky grumpy old man. And what is happening with most buildings and air conditioning?? Did I realize this when I lived here? Why does the US have to blow frozen air on everyone at all times? I need one of those "inside" sweaters. Or a scarf. Yeah, an "inside" scarf.

Leaving Kansas City this Friday to head back to Switzerland until winter. I love Kansas City, my home.

OMG American Airlines

2010-06-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I started flying a lot to and from Switzerland. I accumulated a LOT of frequent flyer points. I was able to use these over the past weekend to upgrade my seat, my wife's seat, and my two children's seats to business class on American Airlines. We paid for economy. This is actually an amazing thing when considering how many people also wanted to upgrade. I guess suffering so much through the past afforded me a one-time luxury, which I really needed to take advantage. I'll come back to why.

During boarding, the announcer called us "business ass classengers". Twice. I picked up on it the first time, Kris refused to believe me when I tried to tell her. Then , both Kris and I heard it the second time. It's funny enough that she said this. It's more funny to know how true it is what she's saying, even if she's slipping by accident.

During the reshuffle process, Kris and I were seated together. Not bad at all. The kids were spread across the plane. Also, not bad if you're a business ass classenger since you don't have to hear two pre-teens fight about touching each other's arms on the arm rests, or putting their shoes under the other's seat.

The first business ass classenger to see one of my children looked at my son, my 9 year old, and promptly looked around as if he were on Candid Camera. Kris darted up to him from a few rows back.

her: Sir? Would you be willing to trade seats with my daughter, just over there?
bac: Ha. When I saw him, I knew I would be moving.
son: Yeah, I'm not so comfortable around strangers.
bac: You'd be surprised I'm not all that strange.

Family settled, the plane was delayed by two hours for replacing a valve sensor in the right engine. I'm happy to wait as long as it takes for a cross-Atlantic 9 hour journey, just to be safe.

Back to why I needed the advantage this time... I somehow chose this 9 hour flight to mature a flu to the point of severely high fever, serious dehydration, and a dramatic disoriented wheelchair ride off the plane in NY. Had I been sitting in coach, I can't imagine going through all of those hallucinations for so many hours with so many people crammed around me. I think they lucked out, too. Kris not so much, but everyone else...

Back to rehydrating.

Summer

2010-06-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

So... Where is everyone? Oh. It's the beginning of summer. School is out. Vacations begin.

I learned this. I learned because over the past several weeks, "end of school year" activities have intensified. This is another cultural thing Europeans laugh at Americans about. "You Americans and your work... Who has time? Who.. has... time? But then if we do not ever take time, how can we ever have time?"

I am told not to plan for major software releases during the summer. No one is around to test, or accept the risk of such a schedule.

So... Where is everyone?

I'll be in Kansas City trying to find ways of shipping Chipotle vegetable burritos to Switzerland.

There's clothes for that

2010-05-29T10:09:00.000-07:00

I now frequently walk to work, and always in my work clothes. It's about 2.5 miles one way. I do at least wear tennis shoes because they're far more comfortable for those distances than the leather shoes with hard soles. As of today, no less than 6 times I have been offered a ride by passer-by co-workers taking pity on me. It's usually an awkward moment. They see me walking on the sidewalk, recognize me, and out of generosity pull off to the side. The conversation usually goes like this.

them: Get in.
me: I'm fine. I'm just walking to work today.
them: (blink)
me: The weather is finally getting nice enough.
them: (blink again, looking around) It's raining.
me: Ok, I need the exercise.
them: Uh, ok. Guess I'll see you in another hour for our meeting.

It actually has been raining too much, but I'm stubborn. I realized the other day that when I moved here, I didn't bring more than just a few casual items, just mostly work clothing. It must have been a mindset for me. When I traveled here the previous two years, I only brought work clothes, and maybe a couple of casual items. I'm fine if I want to go walking around on the weekends in shorts and t-shirt. But if I want to bike, swim, jog, or workout, I'm currently limited to an office suit.

Guess I'll need to make a few visits to a sporting goods store, so that I can fit in wearing garb that matches the thing I am doing. Probably will get less offers to ride to work...

Car

2010-05-27T11:52:00.001-07:00

This just doesn't seem like a good idea to me. Nevertheless, Kris NEEEEEEEEDED to have a car. After months of walking, training, cabbing, and imposing on exceptionally patient friends, we now own a Switzerland-ready 2004 Hyundai Tucson.

Cars are very very expensive here. So is fuel. So is insurance. So is parking. So is breathing, eating, living, and being. I used to think my carbon footprint was considerably reduced from my excessive American lifestyle. Now it's time to rethink.

Perceptions

2010-05-22T10:59:00.001-07:00

I had dinner with my European friends again last night. I very much enjoy getting together with them. This happens maybe once a month. We usually find some pretty nice restaurants in the area, something requiring a bit less than business attire, but a bit more than shorts and a t-shirt. It frequently results in a bash-the-American final round. I think after the first few times of watching me squirm and be uncomfortable, it has become an engaging sport.

My personality is such that I loooooove to shock my wife's extended family with fully inappropriate comments. Such comments result in everyone laughing awkwardly, moaning at me, not really knowing how to react to the ridiculous things that come pouring out of my face hole. I feel like I am trying to be funny during these moments, and occasionally my timing is not bad. I guess what goes around comes around.

Last night, we ended up a few tables away from Zurich's red light district. Kris had originally contacted a restaurant we had previously found. They said they couldn't reserve a table for eight on a Friday night, but they referred us to "other restaurant" they also owned, an Italian restaurant. Since the food was great at the original restaurant, we thought we couldn't go wrong. We weren't that disappointed. The food was not bad. The view from inside the window, however, made for a good laugh with graffiti and industrial buildings nearby.

As the night continued, we evolved into the squirm-testing. The conversation somehow started with cleaning women in the men's restroom, moved to naked sauna laughing, and finally landed on "isn't every white American male a member of the Ku Klux Klan?"

Check, please?

Rain

2010-05-16T02:48:00.000-07:00

May is supposed to be the month where the sun starts showing up more frequently. The sun has become lazy.

In some ways, I'm okay with this. My August experiences here were insufferable with missing air conditioning. The temperature is perfect now. But the rain continues and continues and continues. It makes people here a bit cranky when no sun-minutes are granted. It tends to ruin weekends, days out doing stuff, keeps us locked in too close together, unless you're like me and rain doesn't matter... yet. Maybe I have a higher tolerance for it. Or maybe I'm a sparkly vampire.

Food prices

2010-05-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

I guess after one year I am still shocked at food prices in Switzerland. I don't have the impression that Americans realize cheap corn is at the root of cheap food in America. I love Jose Pepper's in Kansas City. Feeding 8 at this restaurant equates to around $60. I laughed about this when I was last there. For the same money in Switzerland (we found one Mexican restaurant that we love), I can only afford the pitcher (1 liter here) of margaritas. On top of that, I still have to purchase another $100 of food... for two adults. Yeah.

There is a huge difference in costs between here and where I am from. People from here will claim the quality is better, and so the delivery costs are reflective of this quality. Maybe.

Pop Tarts

2010-04-28T12:50:00.000-07:00

I was attending a business dinner at a company-owned restaurant. The food is awesome, and the location is not too far from where I live. Everything about the place screams Frank Lloyd Wright, even if it isn't. It's just a really cool place. It is unfortunate, but they do not allow people to make a reservation there for a family, or just a spouse. It's all business-related meals at the company where I work. Could be for business travelers if they are visiting the site for a business-related conference, but it's not open to the public. Rather exclusive.

Kris and the kids instead attended another place, called Cindy's Diner. I would have enjoyed it, too. Apparently one can buy American Pop Tarts there... for CHF 11 each box. Kris bought two because the kids HAD TO HAVE THEM. Did I mention they were 11 francs each?

Sechseläuten

2010-04-24T02:23:00.000-07:00

On Monday of this week, the area businesses allowed a half-day-off in the afternoon. There is an annual event here called Sechseläuten to celebrate the beginning of spring's 6 o'clock church bells, marking the end of the workday for summer hours. Whereas during winter, an early darkness would prevent work from continuing. This is commemorated with a parade of guilds, and by the torching and exploding of a snowman effigy, lovingly named "Böögg". Here are few photos from this event and parade.

Poor Böögger. He never had a chance with the evil Lord Farquart.

Mustard

2010-04-22T11:18:00.000-07:00

Please pass the mustube.

This stuff is like wasabi. My TRPA1 receptors crave this stuff. It goes wonderfully with snossages.

Spring

2010-04-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

I crested a hill this evening on the way home, and the beauty of Lake Zurich caught my attention for a brief moment.

I've been walking to work and home more frequently now that Spring is here. The weather is nice, the flowers are beautiful, and I've found a way to carry my work shoes in my backpack while wearing tennis shoes. I look like a dork (well, I do regardless) wearing tennis shoes with a suit, but lots of people here make me think the word dork.

There was the 62 year old lady who was riding her bicycle up the hill I was walking down this morning. There was the 55 year old man riding his blade scooter at top speeds around the crowded main train station. And since it's spring, there are scads of people wearing springy colored clothing and hair colors... something I wouldn't do no matter how dorky I am. But that's me, the stuffy American.

OMG Italy

2010-04-06T09:09:00.000-07:00

Spent the Easter holiday in a very old home converted into an hotel outside of Genova, Italy, looking (mostly Sarah and Kris shopping) around Santa Margherita Ligure and the five towns of Cinque Terre. On the way there we stayed a night in a very old hotel in Lake Como, Italy. On the way back, we stayed in Lugano, Switzerland, and spent a few hours near the lake. We rented a car.

Gelato.

Pizza.

Driving driving driving... on very very thin and small roads. Motorcycles are popular because they can drive around cars in stuck traffic, in between cars, into oncoming traffic, on the road's shoulder. These people are just nuts.

I would also like to recommend that everyone visits Italy's public rest-stops and train station restrooms. Oh, and keep a barf bag handy. On second thought, no need. Just let it fly.

Cough

2010-03-31T12:15:00.000-07:00

I am told May Day is the day restaurants in Zurich stop allowing smoking inside. So many of my Swiss colleagues smoke. I have family members who smoke. Nevertheless, here are things I like to do around smokers:

1) Ausfahrt. That's a joke for my kids.
2) Extrafahrt. That's a joke for a (rare) reader.
3) Cough.
4) Complain out loud to my friends.
5) Escape.
6) Suffer.
7) Belch in their direction.

I figure if I have to suffer through their exhaust, they can sense mine.

Crosswalks

2010-03-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

Step into a crosswalk here, all traffic stops for you. Do that in New York City, you'll get mowed over by a taxi.

I don't know the rules for crosswalks well enough here. I stop every time and wait for any car to stop, or to pass, so that I can cross safely. But I see many many people just stepping into a yellow striped zone as though there is this bubble of safety around them.

My dog, Bear, feels confident crossing streets only in these yellow zones now. Maybe he's Swiss.

Pub

2010-03-28T08:26:00.000-07:00

I was at a so-called American Pub last week, the one I have mentioned in the past. I asked this question to a Swiss colleague.

me: So, does this place remind you of America?
him: (looking around) No, not really. I mean it's decorated with American things.
me: Then what would remind you of an American pub?
him: Hooters.
me: HA HA HA HA... That's my next blog post.
him: (blink)

Mike Babel'er

2010-03-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

I've complained in the past about my German. I've complained about how hard it is for me to pick it up because I work in an office where everyone also speaks English, willingly. I learned last week what it would be like to not have this luxury.

A colleague invited me to a meeting where external hardware sales vendors were involved. Somewhere along the way he did not receive my acceptance to attend. Everyone else who was to attend spoke Swiss German as their native language, so the meeting was announced it would be in German. I showed up prior to the meeting, and many apologies were given, but the meeting would continue in German. The first question to me was, in German, "Do you prefer High German or Swiss German?" Recognizing 50% of the question being asked, I responded in English "You can use whatever you wish because I don't know either." A chuckle or two, and the meeting continued in Swiss German, with my plea to continue. I followed along at a surprising pace of about 20% in the language, and augmenting my knowledge with the mixed English and German slides.

But my minimal grasp of the language was not the only thing I noticed about this meeting. What I noticed was that people with whom I have worked face to face for the past 7 months all interacted quite different with subtleties and nuance when using their native language than when using English. This was so amazing to me that after the meeting I googled speech perception and cross language behaviors. I found quite a bit of published material claiming different pathways through the brain for speaking and hearing in another language. It was a pretty incredible revelation for me. Not sure if non-native English speakers realize this but their personalities change to something far more comfortable and relaxed when they aren't forced to speak my language with me.

Maybe I should learn German, and present a whole new personality.

Tipping

2010-03-10T13:23:00.000-08:00

I spent the better part of 3 years waiting tables. I eventually ended up at two very nice restaurants in Kansas City. I made enough money to be able to purchase my wife's wedding ring, which she still has 22 years later (20.5 years plus a 1.5 year engagement). She was very surprised way back then that I could afford it.

I made this kind of money with providing exceptional service, and being rewarded with extra money at the end of the bill called a tip. I still received an hourly wage, but it was the absolute minimum. One cannot live easily on such means as a minimum without the help of tips. Tipping is a reward system based in Expectancy Theory, or true pay for performance. It is also a risk game, the risk being that no matter what kind of service I provide, I could end up "stiffed", with no reward at the end. Tipping is at the discretion of the paying customer but in the US, at least 15% is expected, but 20% is most common. My wife hates that I exceed 20%. I do it often because it makes me feel good. I couldn't really care that the waiter might blow it up his nose, at least that's the image my wife has of waiters even though she married one who is very much not that. In the US, I do the same with cab drivers, ice cream vendors, even the mailman at Christmas. It is not a sign of flaunting money, it is a sign of generosity, and spreading generosity makes me feel good. I most often do this as I am leaving, without looking back for a reaction. My children see this generosity, and the feeling of reward it brings me, and also try to emulate it.

Now transfer into Switzerland my habits and expectations of self-rewarding through tipping others. When I eat at restaurants with my friends from Europe, I am politely informed at the end of each meal that tipping in Switzerland is often about 1 to 2 percent, a rounding up, a token of thanks. I am reminded wait service in Switzerland earns a regular salary, a good salary, a fair wage. I am reminded of this frequently, with good intentions and very politely, because I am an American... giving the impression of impolitely throwing money around. Not a good image to have here.

This is a cultural difference, and I perceive it to also be inconsistent. In times where I have tested this difference, some waiters seem quite grateful to receive a boost, unless in a crowd of others where they might politely decline to allow it. Of course, it could also be they are just politely accepting, under their breath calling me an idiot. It wouldn't be the first time I accepted that label.

The other night a taxi driver argued with me, with fervor I might add, that I was giving him too much. In Chicago, my favorite city on the planet, they'll bitch at you if you don't tip. Quite different.

Beds, revisited

2010-03-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

After reading one of my rants on king-sized European beds in European hotels, and how they have these sucky cracks in them, a friend sent me a link to solving this problem.

There are many ways to solve a problem. And I do thank you for the link. I would also propose this solution tends to treat the symptoms rather than addressing the root cause.

In my opinion, if European hotels would only invest in king sized mattresses, this strange concept of shoved-together twin mattresses would not cause those of us who hate bed cracks to whine. If king-sized mattresses are too expensive, then yes, this solution is quite useful. Why not provide it to travelers as an already installed benefit? I am still not satisfied with why the twin concept with crack exists in the first place. No one has offered a reasonable benefit for having a crackified bed.

I have a reputation in Switzerland which is often given to a very small child who asks these kinds of questions, who does not understand "why this, why that". One might say this is needed, to change a status quo, to enrich and improve the 08/15. The ones who say that are not likely to be living in Switzerland. Big changes begin with a series of very small and often unnoticed changes, like a river begins with droplets of water. Or like carbon dioxide can melt polar caps.

Lost and found

2010-03-04T12:14:00.000-08:00

sarah: OH NO!
me: What?
sarah: I LEFT MY PURSE AND CAMERA ON THE TRAIN!

There's this ill feeling in one's stomach when they realize they just lost something very valuable to them. If my 12-year-old daughter didn't have her head glued to her neck... well... I don't actually have a joke for that one.

Here's a list from my memory of things she has lost. It may be inaccurate because I am old and I don't speak German::
- Purse and camera (turned in WITH CASH at the bahnhof lost and found)
- KEY TO THE APARTMENT (turned in at school)
- Scooter (turned in at school)
- Shoes, pants, coat, shirts (not sure how that happens, really)
- KEY TO THE APARTMENT AGAIN (turned in at school)
- School books and important notebooks (turned in at school)
- Purse at school (turned in WITH CASH at school)
- Backpack at bus stop (turned in by some random lady AT SCHOOL)
- KEY TO THE APARTMENT AGAIN (turned in at school)

Here's a list from my memory of things Gus has lost:
- ...

My purpose for this post is not specifically to point out what has been lost, although it is humorous to me and I would prefer that it stayed lost to teach. But it's more than impressive what has been returned. In the US, we learned the pit in stomach feeling because we always knew with 99.9% certainty we would never see it again. Here, there is (so far) a 90% probability that we will see it again if we check the various lost and found locations. That is impressive.

Not sure what it is that drives this behavior but it would be an interesting cultural learning for me. My first guess why so many people are motivated by honesty and paying it forward is fearing the risk of being caught and the resulting hits in reputation. Quality of reputation and protecting it seems exceptionally important.

Photos

2010-03-02T14:07:00.000-08:00

Carrying a camera makes you a target of attention. Most often, pictures with people in them are a "no no" here for a couple of important reasons. 1) Discretion will be maintained at all times as a core value. 2) Sometimes nudity happens; refer back to #1.

As an American, I am hard-wired to be embarrassed at witnessing nudity. Europeans advertise it. To a European, I am laughed at because of my obvious allergic reaction to silly things like nude statues, or moreso happening upon a cabaret club while walking to a restaurant with my wife. It's very entertaining to see me squirm at something that was clearly intended to be appreciated, a human body. Lots of faux pas stories exist about spas, in and outside the country. So stuffy to be an American. To me, I laugh because I can't get the picture out of my head of Virginia and Roger Clarvin, aka Rachel Dratch and Will Ferrell on Saturday Night Live as the hot tub lovers. To an American, flaunting nudity means somethings completely different.

Anyway, be careful here with exposing... cameras...

Lines, revisited

2010-02-21T04:37:00.000-08:00

I was speaking with a German who once lived in England, and now lives in Switzerland. He was skiing with his family in Engelberg this past week, and we met them for dinner. We were sharing our experiences about the ski lifts and gondolas, how standing in line was an opportunity to learn patience.

me: ... and the little kids are the worst. They scoot all the way around us in packs, cutting in line!
him: Ha ha ha. Lines, lines... what is it with Americans and lines? The Brits invented queuing! They love their queues. And you like lines.
me: So it's okay to just cut in front?
him: Ha. It's survival of the fittest.
me: Probably the same in the US. You cut, you take a risk. In New York, you might hear "Yo, Mr. Movie Star, end of the line's back there."
kris: In Kansas, you'll just hear people mumbling and whispering to each other, with the occasional passive aggressive outburst of waiting in line longer now.
him: (jokingly) Kansas? Is Kansas part of the United States?

Beds

2010-02-20T04:56:00.001-08:00

Just returned from a week-long ski trip with the family to Engelberg, Switzerland, a hill of angels. The snow was great, experiencing the Swiss vacation culture was fantastic (even if most Swiss see Engelberg as too Auslander touristy), and re-learning to ski with the family was a fun experience. The kids really loved the skiing. By Friday, after a full week of ski school, they were blazing down hills and ready to move to the harder slopes. I loved watching them have fun, and it was cute to see them empathetic at my lower skill level. The ski lodges were perfect, and the food in the old restaurants in the village was superb.

So what's with the split mattress thing in Europe? Who in their right mind actually enjoys sleeping on a crack? It's rare to find a king size bed that isn't two twin mattresses shoved together. I don't get it, and would enjoy anyone in the know to enlighten me. Am I supposed to travel with some sort of mattress thingy that bridges the crack?

Hey Euro hotels! Cracks suck!

Mobility

2010-02-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

There is a cool service offered here. You can read more about it at http://www.mobility.ch. If you purchase an ID card, you can find a car anywhere in town they park these cars, scan your card on the reader inside the car, and if it is not already reserved, you just get in and drive it. Kris has done this twice, once was today. She drove us to Sarah's birthday party (her birthday was almost a month ago but she teamed up on partying with a friend also having a birthday in February) at an indoor swimming park.

Sitting in this car, with my wife driving (and the occasional whiplash and white knuckles) gave me the appreciation of driving a car in Switzerland. Up until now, I hadn't thought much about it. Our contract is one year, why bother? Well, living without a car for the past 6 months has been an eye-opener on what is possible without one, and what is not possible without one. We'll give this some more thought if our contract conditions change, and we find ourselves planning to stay longer, but how cool it was to drive around with a sense of freedom and possibility again. My first words to Kris were: "Europe seems easier now. Might be nice to see some of it."

What the ... ?

2010-02-05T14:16:00.000-08:00

Here's something I never would have expected... I'm standing at a men's urinal, following the rules. Someone walks in behind me and is doing something. In America, we don't look around, so I just trusted what they were doing was what they were supposed to be doing.

I finished my rule following, and walked to the sink to wash my hands. Then behind, from my view in the mirror, IS A WOMAN! She had cleaning supplies. BUT SHE WAS IN THE MEN'S RESTROOM.

I described this to some European friends tonight.

me: SHE WAS IN THE MEN'S RESTROOM.
them: (blink)
me: HA!
them: What?
me: Oh, so I'm the idiot. Ha again!

Honk

2010-02-03T11:40:00.001-08:00

The following happened today between 2:30pm and 2:40pm CET.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...
me: (looking around the room at everyone, also looking around in confusion)
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
me: Does anyone know what that means?
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
colleague 1: Adliswil just became a harbor?
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
me: Seriously...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
colleague 2: They're testing the early warning system.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
me: I thought Switzerland liked quiet.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK
...

Awareness

2010-02-01T12:01:00.000-08:00

An actual chat message from work today...

him: hey$
me: hi
him: do you have an update on my project?$
me: still on target
him: ok, cool. when does it start?$
me: why do all of your sentences end with $
him: my new thing. raising awareness of controlling project expenses$
me: hmm. ok (!)
him: what is that?
me: what? (!)
him: i know what that means.
me: ok, cool (!)
him: :( l8r
me: cheers (!)

Herr Hair

2010-01-31T03:14:00.001-08:00

Prior to the age of 14, my hair style changed often. A mix of fatherly cuts, barber cuts, and "seriously, don't touch my hair" cuts were common. I had every style imaginable growing up during this time period, from buzz to bowl to Beav to mushroom to Hmm. At the age of 14, I made a change, and started giving my hair appearance a little more attention. I started parting it down the middle. I might have even been one in a crowd of people with a green heavy-plastic "Dynomite" square comb sticking out of the back pocket of my Jordache jeans. Those combs hurt.

At the age of 16, in high school and awkwardly dating, I became serious about my hair appearance. The comb shrunk as the weird fad passed, but remained faithfully in my back pocket. I moved the part to one side, my right side, where it has remained for the past almost-30 years. I stopped carrying a comb after high school. The cuts were "good enough" that the hair was easy enough to use my fingers as a comb. This, to me, is more efficient.

I've only allowed 4 trusted hair professionals in my life tell me how my hair should look. Stephanie in Phoenix, my aunt Linda, my cousin Tina, and my best friend Trevor. For the most part, each played it safe and left it as it is. My hair situates itself in a way I should not be combing it. The part is better suited on the left side, but my 4 trusted professionals always knew to ask.

In Switzerland, I have been regularly visiting the Swiss equivalent to an American "Snip and Rip". I visit every 3 to 4 weekends for a shampoo and cut (47 francs). In fairness, I have low maintenance needs, so I get the junior skills. I walk out every time wishing I hadn't visited. There is almost no English spoken, and yet, I don't place a high importance on how my hair looks any more. It is a match and service of convenience. Trevor saved me on my last visit to KC. He fixed what was broken.

Yesterday, I visited the local Snip and Rip again for a haircut. This time, I received attention from the senior skilled attendee, likely the store manager. This time, my haircut was not bad. But, this time, my part ended up on the other side. After 30ish years, as my hair appearance isn't that important to me, maybe it is time to allow it to do what every professional has always said it should do. And, since I don't speak German, I can't exactly argue.

Things I miss 3

2010-01-30T15:03:00.000-08:00

My wife and I were walking to a train station on a very cold evening, in unusual blizzard conditions.

her: Ahh, that smell. I like our apartment, but you know what I miss here in Switzerland?
me: What?
her: A fireplace.
me: Know what I miss here in Switzerland?
her: What?
me: America.

Coop or Migros?

2010-01-28T14:09:00.000-08:00

him: Coop or Migros?
me: Huh?
him: Yeah, I didn't get it either.

Nullachtfünfzehn

2010-01-23T08:25:00.000-08:00

I have heard a set of sounds (a German phrase popular in Switzerland) now explained twice to me. These sounds represent a string of symbols: 08/15. Literally translated, null is zero, acht is eight, fünfzehn is fifteen. I recognized these sounds as they were being spoken because, in terms of speaking German, I am only a small child. Imagine a dog making the same facial expression I make when I recognize the meanings behind German sounds... "Go for a walk?" "Where's your ball?"

Nullachtfünfzehn is an idiom which comes from two years stuck together, 1908 and 1915. These years represent models of a German machine gun, MG-08/15, first issued in World War I, the latter having been improved for efficiency.

This set of sounds, in context of being explained about me, is actually an attempt at helping me integrate, an attempt at helping me to understand a behavior which is expected from me. In Switzerland, being nullachtfünfzehn is best. Not standing out is best. Being standard issue, following the rules, incorporating the opinions of others... is best. I am none of these. I stand out, which often causes conflict in my job because my confidence is a target, while it is also humbly built on the work and sacrifice of many others. I miss nuances through ignorance, or just a lack of realizing their local intrinsic value. I didn't grow up on the playgrounds of Switzerland, so I have no understanding of something like the power of a facial expression which might influence an entire population. I have come to agree that, while all of us are stars in a universe, some stars burn hotter and faster and are not sustainable. Nevertheless, during a star's time, there is still much utility from its energy and light. I can only suppose this is how I am viewed in this culture. Perhaps I am intended here for a short time, for a purpose which should reveal itself to me at some point.

Moving into a new culture, where all the rules are different, almost opposite, is like starting over from the beginning. At my age, I struggle with wondering if my outsider skills inside their culture have much value. If being nullachtfünfzehn is how to be successful in a place where the rules of success are not intuitive to me, perhaps the reason I am here is because my utility is to be a havoc-wreaking pulsar. In response to a conflict, I was given the usual phrase as advice "you're not going to change him." Was I brought here for my utility knowing that people don't change, or to learn this culture so that I might change and flourish within it? It is a puzzle that has put me at a self-reflective crossroad.

I believe great leaders inspire others, leading by example, employing positive motivation. To me, being nullachtfünfzehn is helpful when others need standard patterns, so that the rules are known, to instill comfort and trust, to know what to expect. Maybe that's the message I should be hearing. Just try to be more predictable so that others can trust. Most Americans would call me quite predictable. A completely unpredictable goofball... but even that is predictable.

Walking

2010-01-16T03:31:00.000-08:00

me: I saw you walking again to work today.
him: Yeah.
me: I see you doing that a lot.
him: Yeah.
me: But I saw you walking from Thalwil. You know you can take that bus that goes from Thalwil to Adliswil.
him: Yeah.
me: (pause) Why don't you?
him: (pause) Because I like to walk.
me: (blink)

Until yesterday, I hadn't calculated the distance from my home to work. I found out it is a little over an hour. Under "normal" circumstances, this isn't unusual. If I were walking along flat distances, I might consider doing this more often. Between where I live and work, there is a foothill, which at times can be a little steep for my tastes.

Yesterday, I missed my bus by 10 seconds. Now, a choice. Stand in the cold and wait for another 30 minutes, walk 3 minutes to Starbucks, buy a coffee, and wait... Or, look at all this fat I gained over the holidays.

I decided it wouldn't hurt to walk to the next bus stop, just up the hill. Just as I took one step toward the next stop, a second bus arrived. It goes maybe one third the distance I need to go, but it goes up the foothill. I boarded. Sorry.

I got off the bus at its end destination, a happy little spot called Park im Greuene where children laugh and play. But, it's winter, so not so many happy children playing outside. I bundled up a bit, walked to the next stop, checked the time for my bus, decided to continue. This pattern continued a few more times. Soon, I had walked the distance into work. Granted, the hard part was up a hill on a bus, and the remainder was flat and down a long hill, but it gave me a little encouragement to think about doing a little more next time. Maybe I might also like it.

Just maybe not in a suit and leather office shoes.

Oh yay. The Louds have returned.

2010-01-10T07:46:00.000-08:00

Eight suitcases rolling down a concrete floor of a long apartment hallway... a dog returning from the kennel happy to see everyone... "NO!" screams a child at another, because the target has picked up the wrong iPod... "MOOOOMMM", a hurricane shrill echoing from downstairs... silverware dropping off of handled dishes and rattling around a metal sink... dishes clanging together as they are managed into a dishwasher...

me: Any chance you can maybe try to be a little less noisy?
her: Whatever. No one can hear anything. These walls are solid concrete.
me: Maybe you don't hear them because they are trying to be quiet. Did you forget we live in the Land of Shh?

I will always remember our relocation agent pushing this apartment harder than the others. "You'll love this one. It's very international." Translated: You'll be around other louds, so feel free.

OMG Kansas City

2010-01-06T20:53:00.001-08:00

I'm stuffed and ashamed. Fondue for me is usually fondon't. Sorry Swiss friends. I'm not really into the community dipping thing, but I won't think twice to pick up the pot and drink from it. I like to consume.

In no order of significance, here's a list of places I visited in KC just to stuff my grotesque face full of food (git in mah belleh): Winstead's, Chipotle, Jose Pepper's, Jalepeno's, Mi Ranchito, Ra, Sushi House, First Watch, Trevor and Lisa's, Grandma Betty's, Nana's, Auntie Lynn's, Knuckle Danny's, Einstein's Bagels, Panera's, OK Joe's, Jack's Stack, Starbuck's, QuikTrip, Blanc Burgers and Bottles, Coldstone Creamery, Yard House at Legend's, Harpo's, Snow Creek Cafe, my company's cafeteria...

I'm sick of being a food tube now. Looking forward to all the fitness I was complaining about, possibly even turning it up a notch. We leave tomorrow. Tonight it's snowing 700 feet. Hopefully we can still leave the driveway in the early morning. It will be an anxiety-filled fun time heading back, something we should plan to do frequently.

Not the same

2009-12-28T19:10:00.000-08:00

I thought I was being clever when I blogged about tram signs, and things you can't do on trams and buses in Switzerland. Well, I guess Kansas City also has signs on buses which are restrictive for passengers, albeit two fifths less restrictive than Zurich, which seems typical of everything. Apparently on Kansas buses, we can still saw the seats. But, we are not allowed to use Harry Potter wands, eat hotdogs, drink sodas, nor carry on Peterbilt truck grills.

And, I tried a Haagen-Dazs bar out of Magnum desperation today. It's not the same. Nowhere close.

Gluttony

2009-12-25T10:14:00.000-08:00

Sugar, enriched bleached wheat flour, water, partially hydrogenated vegetable oils, palm oil, corn syrup, corn starch... 370 calories, of which 150 directly from Fat (17g).

Basically, sugar and corn. Of course. I am corn.

I must admit I have fully enjoyed eating the last week with reckless abandon. Not that a week is edible, but I somehow managed to eat it. Ho Hos, and Ding Dongs, and Cupcakes. Oh my. Hostess probably didn't realize in 1967 that such branding names would turn out to be something someone doesn't want to eat. But hey, what's in a name?

In the spirit of Commercial Christmas ("ho ho ho" is the sound Santa makes), Sarah picked up a package of these at the QuikTrip, currently having visited 5 times so far. She knows my childhood emotions about such things. Along with thousands of calories, I still store fond memories of raiding the kitchen cabinets at 3am for the school lunch goodies. Back then they were individually wrapped with aluminum foil. Now, 3 are bundled and sold separately. Open the package, eat them all. I haven't seen these in Zurich, yet. I can't imagine smart people would let them in to pollute the food supply.

Gluttony used to be one of the 7 deadly sins. Now it's a logo on a hamburger joint in Adliswil.

Back, Day 4

2009-12-22T08:00:00.000-08:00

Had sushi last night with the Tobins at Ra, a sushi restaurant inside the new W Hotel in Overland Park. It was good, the company was awesome, but still I had Sushi House on my mind. Trevor and I even had to stop in to say "hello" to Brian, and mention to him that we were going to be there on the weekend, just in case the message hadn't gotten to him during the reservation.

A lot of Christmas shopping is occurring. Prices here are 1/3rd the price of everything in Zurich. Kris and I are laughing when we see the food bills come... "Omg, look at this! You can feed an army here for under $100!" Still not sure how America does this, but my thoughts about subsidizing corn are persistent. Maybe there's also more about how America drives efficiency into everything produced on large scales. I have heard Swiss citizens fear this type of mass-production-thinking invading their lifestyle. Migros, a Swiss style Wal-Mart, absorbs reputation hits for this.

As for other luxuries...
her: So, how do you like driving a car again? Is it hard to pick it back up?
me: It's like riding a bike.

Sorry. I thought that was clever, but now that I read it, it's pretty stupid.

Back, Day 1

2009-12-19T16:26:00.000-08:00

Chipotle Pork Bol. Well worth the 18 hours of transit time. Mixed with two visits to QuikTrip, my daughter is in heaven.

Day started with Einstein's bagels for breakfast, moved to Chipotle's for lunch, and will finish with Jose Pepper's for dinner. Clearly we are unable to locate worthy Mexican food in Switzerland. If anyone knows of exceptional Mexican food in Zurich, I'm all ears.

Also made a visit to Lukas Liquors for four bottles of Stag's Leap Artemis. Will bring 2 back with me and give one to my now ex-boss, who claims he doesn't read this blog, but somehow can always quote it. :) Hi Ex-Boss; bottle on its way.

PACK!

2009-12-17T13:53:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow we head to Kansas, passing through Newark on our way.

her: What the ... ?? You're BLOGGING instead of PACKING??
me: I'm a pro. I can pack in 10 minutes. I have it down to a science now.
her: Whatever, "Pro". You aren't remembering the last time you waited until the last minute?
me: I always wait until I leave to pack.
her: Ok, you're a packing scientist. Which means you have perfected it down to forgetting only 2.4 items you need to pack.
me: Huh? 2.4?
her: 1 shoe, 1 pair of matching suit pants but you have the jacket, and 40% of your shaving kit.
me: (blink)

Ski

2009-12-13T13:56:00.001-08:00

I made it home without being airlifted by a red helicopter. My buddy told me to get the red helicopter insurance before I stepped onto a slope, but I didn't.

gus: That was such a cool day.
me: What was so cool about it?
gus: Being able to slide down a hill really fast on your feet.

I told Sarah she could now check off skiing in the Swiss Alps from her Bucket List. I also told her that her future fiance will be angry that she's been so many places, to which she responded with silence by quickly falling asleep on my lap.

For me, the worst was the brutal walking in Frankenstein shoes, ripping the flesh out of my shins. I could have handled it if I were only walking around the slopes in concrete bricks. But, because my wife heard the key phrase "You'll want to wear your boots so that they stay warm, even on the train," I was wearing them while getting the skis out of the basement, lugging around luggage filled with our clothing for afterward, around the train stations, on the trains, trying to somehow hurry around in shoes that would suit me better if I were a corpse tossed into the Hudson. I'm sure the neighbors enjoyed the four of us clomping around the flat and halls. One more event to remember with The Louds.

Hmm

2009-12-12T05:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, as I walked to work in the 4th consecutive day of rain, I found myself caught in a reflective thought. I am no longer feeling like I'm somewhere else. This is all starting to feel familiar now.

A friend, an expat colleague, was asked several weeks ago as I was giddy about my own upcoming travel home...

me: Are you going back home for the holidays?
her: You mean Kansas? We're not going there for the holidays.
me: WHAT? Are you crazy? WHY NOT?
her: (micro-glance of surprise at my reaction) Well, Switzerland is our home now. We're happy here.

Brain jolt, perspective shift.

It took me 4.5 months to cozy up to the thought that I'm choosing to be comfortable in a "foreign country", or not. My blogging has started to diminish in frequency because the differences aren't seeming so extreme any more. I still don't know the language, but I'm now pondering getting more serious about this as I am often told it would greatly enrich my experiences, and get me closer to understanding the cultural differences which have seemed extreme to me.

At the moment, I am making no plans to stay, but I'm also not making plans to leave. I'm in a where-will-I-live limbo until some point in Q1'10, when other decisions are made around me. For the time being, I am finally choosing to enjoy the location I am in, a concept my wife has been experiencing since she first arrived in her dream-state 4.5 months ago.

Yum

2009-12-11T12:25:00.001-08:00

Ok, maybe yum doesn't quite capture my enthusiasm for a Magnum Almond bar.

How about yuuhuuhuhuum?

Schlecht

2009-12-05T00:45:00.000-08:00

A former expat colleague, considerably more youthful, and while still an expat, giving me advice...

fec: Do you ski?
me: No.
fec: Snowboard?
me: No.
fec: (pause) Do you like sitting for long periods of time alone waiting on people to return from those activities?
me: Not really.
fec: (pause again) Then I hope you can tolerate spending months under clouds.

We're getting ready to go skiing for the first time ever as a family. We'll take lessons, of course. I am afraid of this activity since one minor aspect of parenting is keeping one's eye on one's children. I can already sense they will be fearless and ski-sprinting down very long Swiss Alp mountain sides, while I will be pondering the contrived safety and long boredom of catwalks.

The clouds here are persistent. "Das Wetter ist schlecht" translates (roughly) to "the weather sucks so bad it's worth commenting on it." The people here escape this depressing long-term doldrum by going above the clouds, socializing, enjoying the activities and entertainment the mountains attract. It is a subculture I know nothing about, but am willing to give it a whirl. Will let you know how it goes. I fully anticipate getting hurt somehow.

Egg nine beef

2009-11-21T14:01:00.000-08:00

me: "Hey, Mom. How do you say 'egg nine beef' in French?"
gus: "What? Egg nine beef? What does that mean?"
kris: "Oeuf neuf boeuf?"
gus and sarah: "HA HA HA HA"

Kris had her wallet stolen today. Now we go through the process of canceling credit cards and stuff. This will be fun.

OMG France

2009-11-20T23:53:00.000-08:00

Went to Paris this week to see a couple of European icons: the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre. My wife originally rented an apartment for the six of us (her, me, my kids, and my parents). It seemed like a good idea, one I approved when we saw the pictures of it on the Internet. Suffice it to say we're all instead at the Hotel Opal. After a grueling night, we each concurred that it was not exactly the place we would choose again.

We made it to the top of the Tower. Took this picture with my work Blackberry. The camera on it sucks. We took more pictures while on the Tower, saw the city. The last time I visited Paris, I was able to take a crepe on the Eiffel Tower. Not this time, though. My kids laugh about that. Today we will attempt a visit at the Louvre Museum. I really want to see the Mona Lisa. If I see nothing else but this, I will be satisfied.

Spent the first night of our vacation in Geneva, walked around the city the next day. Lots of expensive brand name shops there. Took a train from Geneva to Paris on the second day. When we arrived at the Paris train station, I was a bit confused by the messages on the signs. Again, another pic from my crepey Blackberry camera showed retards were probable in Avignon. Sorry about the quality of the photo.

Fitness

2009-11-17T12:18:00.001-08:00

So, three and a half months, I now understand why the Swiss are so fit. Here are my observations:

1) Sprinting for trains and buses is a popular workout routine. On any given day, you can stand in the main station and count hundreds of people working out. I like to dress up in a suit and leather shoes for my workouts. I feel more comfortable knowing I'm getting my money's worth on outrageous dry cleaning bills.
2) The cost of everything else limits one's calorie intake. Spending capability works wonders on any diet outside the US. There are just better things to spend your money on here than outrageously expensive food. For example, gasoline for your car, car insurance, a car, speeding tickets, maintenance of your car, registration fees for your car, and all other non-car expenses.
3) Corn.

Why corn? I watched two recent movies: The Informant, and Food Inc. To me, subsidizing corn is now at the root of all American evil. Watch them both, and you'll find the same pattern, too.

OMG Greece

2009-11-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

I was finally able to make it outside the hotels where the software conference is being held. This was the Athens view from the restaurant where I had dinner last night. The restaurant is called Dionysos, and wow it is something. Not a bad seat in the house. The restaurant decor has spared no expense, and the service was fantastic.

I stumbled into a lunch spot just beneath the Acropolis, called Geros Toy Moria, in the winding roads of Plaka. We sat at a table on a hillside sidewalk, drank espressos, had an awesome tomato salad, ate fresh-catch fish, and finished with baklava. Again, the service was exceptional. They compete with the gentleman who has situated his restaurant directly next door, down the sidewalk. It is quaint to watch them entice the potentials.

Today we visited several islands. I couldn't help continuously asking directions to the town named Vagia on the island of Aegina.

Momentum

2009-11-11T23:51:00.000-08:00

Being in Switzerland puts me in the middle of places I have only read about. I haven't traveled outside of Switzerland since landing in Zurich in August. My wife and kids went to London over a break, so they are enjoying this benefit without me. I haven't been able to take advantage of where I am located for a few reasons, but this week, I am in Athens, Greece, at a software conference called "Momentum". And, while I haven't yet made it out to see the awesome sites and to take photos of the inspring and very old landmarks, I did have to wonder what the graphic designer of this directional sign was thinking.

I can say I have been eating more food here than I would in Switzerland. Maybe the graphic designer has been, too.

Öh Fünf

2009-11-08T23:46:00.000-08:00

Learning a new language is one of the most frustrating tasks I have attempted. I don't learn languages well. I'm just not wired this way. My mouth doesn't make the sounds that others make. When I try to speak in German, I am constantly asked "What did you say?" but in English.

The umlaut sounds mess me up completely. The word "five" in German is "fünf". It's a funny sound for an American to try to pronounce. There are too many compressed little sounds in one word to sound comfortable saying it. To an "only-English" speaker, the umlaut u has a bit of an r sound in it, if one can closely catch it. To hear Five hundred fifty-five spoken in German gives me a giggle.

Hag

2009-10-31T08:12:00.000-07:00

I originally took this picture because every morning I see it, and of course I have a small giggle to myself. After all, until my first coffee, I could easily be classified as a loving caffe hag.

So I started researching what it was, what it meant. I felt if I was going to try to be clever about something culturally trivial, but funny to me, I should know something about it or be blasted by people who do.

HAG is an acronym for Handels Atkien Gesellschaft (Trade Atkien Society, dunno what Atkien means but the German word Handelsgesellschaft means Partnership or Corporation, and this is what is intended). Caffe HAG is currently owned by Kraft, is a decaffeinated coffee, and is the mother of the Sanka brand better known in the US. To me, Sanka sucks. Caffe HAG is from the same genealogical tree, so by inference of pedigree, it sucks too. I don't drink it, I only laugh at its existence. Apparently, this company is the descendant of the inventor of decaf coffee, Ludwig Roselius, which he patented in 1906.

There is also a rich cultural history of this sucky brand through something called Coffee Hag Albums. The reference of Switzerland having the most complicated series has not gone unnoticed by me.

Mein Gott! Silence the bells!

2009-10-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a smallish midwestern town, Blue Springs, a suburb of Kansas City, another smallish midwestern city. I went to a church in a smallish midwestern town, Raytown, a suburb of Kansas City. Not once did I hear church bells. Not even once. I DID hear church organs, people singing, a preacher giving a sermon or a prayer, people shaking hands, enjoying their fellowship, and every once in a while some dumbass doing donuts in his Pontiac Grand Prix in the parking lot.

Here, in fun Switzerland, every hour on the hour the church bells toll. Every half hour, on the half hour, church bells toll. On Saturdays and Sundays, the church bells have fits, randomly to me because I have no schedules and I don't speak German. On Sunday, at 9:50am local time, the entire area for as far as my old ears can hear erupt into mass chaos, whether I'm ready to awaken or not.

So that you can also share in the enjoyment, here's a video example of me, ducking under the Berkowitsch, then doing what I can to leave the frame of view... because, you know, I'm shy.

Swinglish

2009-10-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

Expats (actually, not expats, just my wife) here are fond of apologizing for butchering the local language by adding their own words to it. They like to say "oh, please forgive my Swinglish." They are trying to be clever. Truth be told, it's not even a Swiss German and English mixture. It's more an attempt at Highglish Germanglish.

For someone like me who hardly knows a few words in German, the clever Swinglish phrasing is still lost on me. I told my son the other day, who is quickly learning German and singing German songs around the place...

me: You are speaking like a third grade German.
him: Come on, Dad, you say something now. You're supposed to be advanced.
me: Ha. I speak worse German than a little German baby.
him: Oh DAD!

Really, this is how we learn languages. Mimicking, speaking, then reading. I'm going to study this a bit more. I have two colleagues who know more languages than I have fingers. I have one colleague who can describe which language was popular during the 1700s and what the socio-economic status of the majority European population was. I am completely dumbfounded by this, with immense feelings of inadequacy.

Leave it to stupid me to read restaurant signs in mixed English and German, and ask "Why do they have special menus for 2 gang members and 3 gang members?"

Community Tables

2009-10-18T13:06:00.001-07:00

In the US, I was very accustomed to having my own table for meals. In Switzerland, especially in traditional Swiss restaurants, or even at events and gatherings, there are these long benches. I know now that when I see a bench inside a restaurant, if I am not a member of a party of 6 or more, I will be seated with strangers who will share the same salt and pepper with me, or ask me to pass them the sugar for their coffee. I have a cousin who also thinks that close-talking is a cultural thing here. Could be. I do like my space. My daughter calls it her personal bubble. "Get out of my personal bubble."

There is this one specific restaurant in Zurich that most outsiders seem to enjoy, and believe that this must be Swiss culture. The locals like it, too, but only once in a great while. They serve American-sized portions, so it's mainly to sell local food culture to the tourists. It's called Zeughauskeller. I like it. It's fun once in a while, but crowded. Sometimes it's fun to talk to strangers, but I have to be in the right mood... the mood that is ready to entertain others. My father-in-law judges a restaurant's quality by the size of its nightly crowd. Thus, this one would seem to be one of the top, even with its community table seating.

Eliot Sharpener

2009-10-16T11:52:00.000-07:00

I don't speak German. I wish I did. I've tried. I know a few little things. Enough to know when I'm making stuff up. My kids know a lot by now. They have been taking German as part of their curriculum.

Tonight at dinner while I was passing the bread, I asked my daughter a question. I was hoping to make her laugh because she was in quite a sour mood.

me: Kannst du brot? (translated, Can you bread?)
her: You're so stupid.
me: Super. Bist du brot? (translated, Are you bread?)

It started the conversation talking about what German they have learned. I was asked all kinds of questions in German. I didn't know any of the answers. They had to translate for me. Now that it was funny, the question came to me...

her: Bist du ein spitzer?
me: Am I a what?
her: If it's ein, it's a masculine or neutral word. If it's eine, it's a feminine.
mom: Ohhh, a clue...
me: What is a spitzer?
her: It has to do with something in school.
me: A pencil?
her: No. But you're close.
me: An eraser?
her: No.
mom: A pencil?
her: No! Dad already said that.
son: A pencil sharpener?
her: Yes.
me: And it's masculine?
her: What?? Dad! You're so stupid.
me: I'm just saying... Not that there's anything wrong with that...

Finally

2009-10-15T12:33:00.000-07:00

Talking about the weather in Switzerland is considered polite small talk. Right now, it is 2 Celsius. To me, that's 35 degrees in Fahrenheit. I don't speak German. Fahrenheit looks like a German word to me, (I know it is the name of the Polish dude who created this measurement system) but for the raw irony, I'll switch in Celsius.

(in a conference room of 5 people)
me: Do local citizens enjoy this type of weather?
person 1: Of course, it's a beautiful today. It is a bit chilly.
me: This is the temperature I set my air conditioning in my house, in Connecticut.
person 1, 2, 3, 4: HA HA HA HA HA HA.
person 1: Yes, we do have to wear sweaters to the office in NY.

I am finally comfortable. The bugs are thwarted, I'm no longer sweating my ass off just to breathe, and I can finally enjoy the scenery without running for shade. It is definitely beautiful here. The leaves are changing colors. Everyone is walking around in overcoats, scarves, hats, even some are wearing ear muffs and gloves. I'm walking the dog in shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals, whistling a happy tune.

I can't imagine what my heating bill will look like when a bill finally arrives. The floors here emanate heat. I have to open doors to the outside just to let in the fresh air, something I haven't been able to do with the constant onslaught of insects.

Yes, finally I can be happy with something as simple and polite as the weather.

Exactly

2009-10-10T05:04:00.000-07:00

Growing up in the 1970s and early 1980s, childrens' television programming was starkly different than today's dedicated networks of mind fry and distraction. While the behaviors I exhibited then are the same as what my children tend to exhibit (unplugging from my surroundings, sitting and staring at a box), the distraction selection then was severely limited to 3 major channels, and maybe a few extra minor channels. Afterall, we kids back then didn't have a tremendous amount of expendable income, so the marketing and revenue potential was weaker. Reruns and limited programming did have a tendency to motivate us to get up and move, although a rerun of Ultraman or Johnny Socko and the Flying Robot was always worth watching over and over. For a young boy, our heroes were Speed Racer, Batman and Robin, Superman in black and white, or the Green Hornet. Our early life lessons and language teachers were mostly surreal puppets from Sesame Street, HR PufnStuf, New Zoo Review,and Gary Gnu from The Great Space Coaster. Even the Electric Company resorted to puppets now and then.

I remembered Gary Gnu recently. The memory was triggered by a word very often used here. The word is "genau". It is pronounced like "geh-now", with emphasis on the second syllable. It means "exactly". I hear it everywhere I go, often strung together in repeating phrases. "Genau, genau." Surely two exactlys together is a stronger confirmation of agreement than only one. Yesterday, I heard it strung together 3 times. "Ja, genau, genau... genau." As an outsider, I have heard the Swiss Germans lovingly referred to as the people of Greutzi and Genau.

Uh...

2009-10-08T12:35:00.001-07:00

I used to only smell this distinguishing smell at rock concerts that I would attend with my brother. The two of us would buy tickets to attend the old and repeating music of fading rock bands. We would ask each other "How would you feel if you had to play the same song over and over, the one you wrote when you were in a depressed stupor 35 years ago?"

Now, I can smell this distinguishing smell at train stops, walks in the park, walking through an art school campus, at restaurants, at the post office, in a grocery store... I smell THIS smell more frequently than the very local gag-reflex-causing-raclette-smell. I am not living in Amsterdam. I am living in Zurich. And yet, it is tolerated because... well, I don't know why. Of all the rule following rule lovers here, this one seems to be a little relaxed.

CLAP

2009-09-29T12:28:00.001-07:00

Imagine concentrating on your computer screen, then suddenly out of nothing comes this CLAP sound. Your first reaction would to be look at where that sound came from, startled, then wonder why the hell the person clapped once, and returned to their work. Now imagine that happening throughout the day, at spontaneous intervals. You will be thinking "Tourette Syndrome", or just plain messed up. These must be the thoughts of my co-workers and family members, observing me throughout each day lately.

I am obsessed. There are these tiny little bugs that fly at my face throughout each day. Tiny. These tiny little flies (smaller than fruit flies) land on my nose hairs, on my eyelashes, on my lips... all freaking day long. I kill them all the freaking time, and yet 4 more spontaneously pop into life in place of the one I just killed. It is an annoying nonstop video game of Asteroids, but in real life. I am so embarrassed for my surrounding colleagues having to tolerate me.

Then I come home, try to have a glass of wine. I put down my glass, and out of nothing appear 6 fruit flies, also enjoying my glass of wine.

Then I go to bed, and I am sucked dry of my blood supply by mosquitoes that somehow enter my existence through wormholes. I am freaking nuts.

Tram restrictions

2009-09-27T13:17:00.001-07:00

Here's a list of things you can't do while riding a tram in Switzerland. Evidently, you cannot:

Blow your cigarette smoke onto the head of the person sitting in front of you.
Pull out your empty pockets inside out and wave your arms up and down.
Play your guitar and sing.
Saw the seat next to you.
Put your golf cleats onto the seat in front of you.

Lines

2009-09-25T11:18:00.000-07:00

I stand in lines at Vapiano's to have my pasta made to order, or to order a pizza. I stand in lines at the bank, the grocery store check-out stand, the post office, and the ticket counter at the train station. I stand in lines at the cafeteria at work, to enter a revolving door in a mall, to get in to see a movie. Lines are everywhere here.

So why the hell do people rush in front of me when I'm stepping onto a train, a tram, a bus, an escalator at the Zurich Haupt Bahnhoff, or passport control at the airport? Why don't the same queuing rules apply in these situations? And why is it ok to pick your nose in public here, or sneeze all over everyone? What about these things are not staying within certain lines?

Grumpy Old Man Tip #1

2009-09-22T13:21:00.001-07:00

When I was young, I bemoaned health tips from oldsters. Now that I'm aging and becoming an oldster, I understand the purpose behind why oldsters do this. We only want to pass on useful information to people who still have time to make use of this information. So here is my first tip to pass on as an oldster:

Drink 6 to 8 eight-ounce glasses of water, daily.

This seems obvious, not really even worth saying. Eventually, I get thirsty, and I finally gulp a glass of water. What I didn't realize was what happens to me if I don't drink enough water consistently. Or if I try to somehow derive my needed water from things which are abundant in Switzerland, like beer, wine, Coke Zero, exceptionally strong coffee, wasser mit kohlensauer, or a bowl of Cookie Crisp with odd tasting Swiss milche. I've read dehydration can lead to most diseases. Don't know how true that is, but if it is even almost true... it's worth the preventative measures.

I tried something, as an experiment. I have a history of mild depression, and I know people also with these symptoms who describe it to me the same way... mild depression. For me, it's been showing up at odd times in the past 6 weeks since moving here. Nothing serious, just blah-ness. Most people tell me it's very normal to experience this after a move to a different culture. They even have a phrase for it, they call it "culture shock". I noticed it seemed to correspond with my face getting blotchy, a sign I am not drinking enough water, or too much coffee along with other body things I shouldn't describe. The first time it showed up here, I pulled out my toolkit for managing it. I don't take medication for these symptoms, although I know some who do take them with good success.

So as part of my experiment, I started rehydrating, monitoring how much water I'm drinking during the day, replacing whatever coffee I or beer or wine I drink with the same amount of water, or more. This tip lands me again into a restroom, frequently. But I feel a ton better mentally, my face isn't (as) blotchy, and my other functions aren't so unfriendly. I tried this a couple of times, dehydrating, not paying attention, back came the mild depression, and it went away after I rehydrated.

Feeling blah? Try rehydrating for a few days.

Gross, Grosse, und "Gross"

2009-09-20T12:47:00.000-07:00

My children are learning German. They have friends who speak German so they are motivated.

There's a large church landmark in Zurich with two towers, called Gross Münster.

gus: It's called Gross Monster?
me: No, Gross Münster. Gross means "big" in German. Grosse means "large". Münster means "minister", or maybe "cathedral".
gus: So it means big cathedral?
me: Probably. I don't speak German, so...

Later...
sarah: Gus! You're gross!
gus: That means "big" in German, Sarah. You just called me "big".
sarah: Then, you're disgusting.
gus: Well, part of that is my name, Sarah... "gus" is in "disgusting".
sarah: Gus is short for disgusting.
gus: No, Sarah. Gus is short for August.
sarah: (flustered) rrrrrrrhhhh...

Switches

2009-09-19T08:43:00.000-07:00

I've been working a lot more lately. I'm feeling tired on weekends, but still working to catch up. When I was in the US, I would work at a frenzy in the morning until after lunch. From my New York or Kansas perspective, these are the hours the Swiss are still working. Then after lunch, I would catch up, sometimes until late at night. Here, the energy is focused from morning until night, then I often continue with my American colleagues for a while after. This is a big switch for me and for my manager, who used to do this, and may still, but perhaps not to the same energy level of before I landed here.

Speaking of switches, my wife asked me last weekend to help her hang some lighting. In the apartments here when one moves in, there is no lighting anywhere. Just wires hanging from ceilings in places where lights should be. Maybe the bathroom has a light or two, but nothing in any other room. This is normal here. When you move, you strip everything... lights, window treatments, everything.

For a short-term stay like mine, we are faced with a decision on how much to invest, feeling anything we bring in we will either try to sell, or throw away. We chose cheap, of course. And to remain within our limited budget, she asked me to help her hang and wire them. To know me means you will also know my reaction. I am not the handiest mate. My work is better when left to thoughts. My manual execution skills produce things that end up not what was hoped, expected, anticipated. My hands are about as useful as a couple of flopping fish. American light switches are about my pace. They are clearly labeled "on" and "off". I like binary thinking. It is simple to me, and it matches the simplicity needed for my fish hands. As long as the electrician did their proper job, all will be safe.

her: I need you to help me connect this light.
me: I don't speak German.
her: Come on. Just help. I don't know how to do it or I would.
me: You can look it up on the Internet.
her: So can you. So do that, then help me.

I look up the wiring on the Internet. Blue, brown, green stripe. These are (sometimes) the colors hanging from the ceiling. These aren't exactly the colors that match the lighting, but one of them does, the blue one. I think I'm smarter than the average light switch. Me and my fish can figure this out.

I connect one. I fiddle with the other.

me: Baaararararuarahgfhwqruigy
her: What?
me: Uh... can you turn off the power to this one? I just absorbed 220V.
gus: What was that? What happened? (He comes running from upstairs).
me: Oh, nothing. I was just laughing at your Mom. Sorry to bug you.
her: Well how do you know if it's on or off?
me: When you hold them both, it does or doesn't hurt.

More things I miss

2009-09-16T11:58:00.001-07:00

Over coffee, one of my colleagues told me he switched to a Vegan lifestyle within the last few months. I had to ask him several questions about this when he told me. He says he doesn't miss the food he's given up, although he does see finding the food he wants to be more of a challenge. I could relate the part about finding the food I wanted being a challenge.

Near the building where I work, the building with the crazy people-grinding doors, there is a well known after-work place we frequent. The probability of seeing a colleague there is very high every night. It's close. It's convenient. It's directly next to a train station. They serve beer. But it's also branded as "an American Pub". The name of it is supposed to be modeled after what the Swiss (and the rest of the world) believe to be American. They serve hamburgers, fries, other things that are somehow fried in oils. Their hamburgers don't taste like hamburgers. They put some form of what we call Thousand Island dressing on it. It's not simple. Now I really want a US hamburger. And I want the beef to be laced with antibiotics, antimicrobials, hormones, and other non-regulated US additives. Add US home-grown genetic manipulation to this so that the cow stores more fat. If the manipulated fat tastes like bacon, great. In fact, add bacon, too. Not this flimsy prosciutto-like-pork-strips-faking-to-be-bacon. The real carcinogenic stuff.

Here's a few more things I've realized I miss:
- Men's Wearhouse: We know you'll like the way you look... cheap. I bought a suit here a couple of weeks ago. Omg. The cost of clothing here is unreal. I bought a suit because my clothes aren't fitting me any more. I'm losing weight. I'm so angry about this, too. I really did enjoy looking like that chap in the picture. I was so contented then, living with my conveniences, my hamburgers, my TV shows, driving everywhere, walking from my car to inside wherever. At this rate, I will be buying unrealistically expensive clothing, wearing them a couple of weeks, and buying more. It's ridiculous, and I've had enough. Send me real hamburgers, PLEASE!
- Cheap dry cleaning: can't say more than that.
- Cheap anything.
- Fluffy bagels with eggs and cheese. Mmmm.
- OK Joe's BBQ: Guuhhguugguguugugg.
- Noisy kids.
- Harley mufflers rolling through at 2am, rattling the house. I can't sleep with all the quiet here.
- Magazines I can read: every convenience store (brand name is Kiosk) here has rows and rows of magazines in German.
- Stag's Leap Artemis: my affinity for California red will never be surpassed by the great ones they have within proximity of these borders. I'm a snob for CA grapes. ;)
- And of course, my family and friends. At least facebook helps me keep up on their statuses, even if one of my cousin's statuses is simply "I'm pooping".

1970s

2009-09-13T04:06:00.001-07:00

Three years ago, one of my first complaints to a colleague about the locale of my new Swiss employer (through an acquisition) was that there was an underlying theme of 1970s. Not so much in fashion or styles as Zurich is at the forefront here, but more toward conservative business practices. They agreed, but through the eyes of their perspective. This colleague was an American female. I've also learned that once a person declares something, whether or not disputed, there is much energy spent collecting evidence to support such a declaration. I admit the following is my collecting evidence to support wild generalizations and skewed observations. Please read it as such, and not a political view.

Americans are seen by the rest of the world as being excessively litigious. Of course, there are good sides and bad sides. One of my Swiss colleagues described a family member enduring medical procedure horrors, with no satisfying recourse. Here, it is understood that people make their own decisions, and therefore accept the consequences. Social medicine here is wonderful when it works well, and can be very painful when it doesn't. I have lots of friends and a few relatives who are attorneys. Even Americans recognize the craziness of litigation practices, and most know a good lawyer joke. The Swiss seem far more self-controlled, self-governed, visible pride about knowing and following the rules so that order for each is respected. Fairness for all seems a core value, even if to me fairness is an illusion granted by those who have control of a system. For now, living among them, I like this. At some point, I can sense I may find myself a victim without recourse, and will then complain about injustice.

Women in the corporate world in Switzerland also face many challenges that America seems to have addressed since the 1970s. Daycare is rare and very difficult to find. The public school system sends children home for lunches, making a cohesive workday impossible. There is a spoken belief that mothers are to care for their children. Equality in pay, still an issue in America, seems also to be a recent issue here. At least in government, more women are becoming visible. But it is still very noticeable when looking around the ranks in conservative corporations. I can imagine my female colleagues feel privileged and accomplished to be where they are in strong positions, but also see the challenges in working with the male networks, the systems in place that have worked for generations, and still being able to further their goals and experiences.

Sexual harassment, a behavior changer in America, also has a view here tied to both litigation and American awkwardness in courting. Here, men can openly comment on the beauty of a local woman in the office, joke about being a blond, discuss openly the chances of winning the affection of a female colleague to enhance the success of a project. They are deathly fearful of doing the same while in America, so they know the difference. "La bise", or greeting with a series of cheek kisses, is a custom performed locally, 3 for close, 2 for acquainted, including during office greetings. I was recently described as "shy" for not respecting this custom, and while I attempted it my first time with friends two evenings ago, there was still an internal reaction which broadcasted my American awkwardness. I am still shy because I have been wired this way.

My 11 year old daughter brought these home the other day. She loves to spend her francs on candy.

kris: Ohhh, these remind me of Ava and the 5 and Dime. I would take a quarter and come back with a bag of candy.
me: When was that?
kris: I was just a little girl, maybe 4 or 5. Everybody in Ava was smoking real ones, I would smoke these.
me: So, the '70s?

My first reaction to seeing these was a parent's reaction to finding real ones with their child. It was an overreaction of course, but it led me to wonder more about the cigarette companies, and how their profits are largely made from non-Americans. Tort law just isn't the same here... yet. I have to wonder if it is something to come as our local cultures continue to mix, merge, mash-up, or if litigation as a means for justice satisfaction will be resisted. Anyway, the gum sucks, just like it did when I bought it in the 1970s.

Box Day

2009-09-10T11:31:00.000-07:00

We're missing a local event calendar. I guess one of these exists somewhere because everyone is clued in somehow except us.

One month ago...
her: I put some boxes out yesterday on top of existing boxes next to the trash bin and this guy yelled at me in German. What am I supposed to do with these boxes?
me: I don't speak German.

Two weeks ago...
her: I really need to get these boxes out of here, and I have no idea what to do with them!
me: You could stack them into a closet like a jigsaw puzzle.
her: Grow up.

Today...
her: Did you see all of those collapsed boxes everywhere on your way to work this morning? Apparently today was box day. How the hell does anyone know when box day is around here???
me: I don't speak German.
her: I had to miss my exercise routine this morning just so I could rush out and break down a bunch of boxes in time.
me: Did you use a plus screwdriver?

If you've made it this far and are wondering why did I write this, see this former blog post.

Worte

2009-09-09T09:25:00.000-07:00

I don't usually get hung up on words, labels, names, their meanings. I have a wife named Kris. I have a son named August, born in June (and although we call him Gus, it is most often pronounced "Goose" here when they see it spelled like this). I have a dog named Bear. It isn't intentional, but it is something I notice. Usually my noticeables land me in a restroom. This time, the toilet humor is still here, but minimized.

Here are a few words from my travels that make my children giggle:
Ausfahrt. It means Exit... well of course. I can't get the kids to stop saying this in public, asking strangers what does ausfahrt mean, commenting "you smell like an ausfahrt."
Manegg. It's a town in Zurich. I'll take a picture if I come across one of these eggs.
Moosegg. It's a restaurant in Rueschilikon. Most of my colleagues have eaten there, or had a nice beer on the patio.
Stonga. I don't know if I'm spelling this right. Probably not. It means a small draw of beer, any beer, just small.
Panache. I also don't know if I'm spelling this right. It means a half-and-half mixture of beer and what I would call Sprite, but my Swiss colleagues also have a brand called Citroen. They do this to limit the alcohol intake, but still enjoy the social time required to drink a whole one.
Au. It's a town. It is pronounced like "Ow." It's fun to hear the female train recording say it as we're pulling into the station. "Ow." "Quit kicking her, Gus."
And, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Chuchichaeschtli just to be respectful. Each ch sound is the back of throat ugula grinding. It means kitchen cupboard.

And an unrelated few worte... Today marks my zwanzig Jahre Hochzeitstag. Happy anniversary, Kris.

Coffee

2009-09-08T13:36:00.000-07:00

Mmmmmm... Swiss coffee. In the company where I work, and specifically in Switzerland, coffee is an event. It's a social gathering. It's where deals get done. It's a time to sip, and discuss. Not so much in the same company in the US.

For me and Swiss coffee, I get wired, incredibly bad breath, and yellow teeth. The teeth situation seems ok for most because most people also have yellow fingers from smoking. Maybe they don't realize that, but I notice my teeth every time I brush them and wonder just how the heck that happens so quickly after visiting a dentist. It's the coffee.

The coffee here is instantaneously grounded. They pour in these awesome roasted beans into the top and walk away. Then, lines of people press buttons, juggle cups or glasses of all sizes, and loud grinding noises with wonderful aromas fill the air. Well, these noises fill the air just underneath the non-stop talking and chatter in the cafe where people rotate in and out every few minutes drinking, discussing, dealing, socializing, gathering.

I have also started drinking far too much espresso. I tried switching to Ristretto, which I finally learned is a smaller shot of espresso, but I guess it's also a little stronger than espresso. Lucky for me I was hitting that button twice to get a reasonable sized blast. Little did I know... until later when I was blasting a gut in the restroom.

My Swiss colleagues enjoy asking me politely "So, do you have espresso machines where you work in the US?" They already know the answer. It's really just an inside joke to them. I play along with American politeness. While our coffee resembles cat urine to them, it also makes them shaky. They switch to tea when they are in the US. An American coffee's taste is just unbearable, but the shakes are also too distracting. Swiss coffee to me doesn't resemble a cat's urine. I quite like it. For me, it does however produce interesting results other than cafe chatter.

Coke Light

2009-09-06T03:50:00.001-07:00

This crap is not Diet Coke. It doesn't taste the same, it doesn't have the same name. Ask for a "Diet Coke" here, and you receive a) a Coke Light, b) a Coke Zero, c) select words in Swiss German, or d) a combination of any of these.

I hear a lot about the health quotient of the average Swiss citizen. Granted, the majority are fit. Very few look chubbier than I am, and the majority of these are not authentic Swiss. Even the aged folk (nicknamed Billy Goats within the expat community because they outpace the average American youth on hill climbing activities) are sprightly, well versed in Swiss diets, and are filled with pointers on living long and large. An example is "one glass of quality Swiss wine every day."

But when I go to any restaurant, or walk through the open-air train station, I am choked by the smoke exhaust of thousands of cigarettes. Apparently, smoking here is still considered healthy, but aspartame is not.

On a side note, last night I had a steak. The only reason I ordered it was because there was a footnote, something to the effect of Chicken is from France, Veal is from Switzerland, Lamb is from New Zealand, Beef is from US (caution: may contain antibiotics, antimicrobials, or other US allowed additives). All I can say is those things are yummy, but Coke Light is crap.

Mit Kohlensaure

2009-09-03T13:31:00.000-07:00

When I first started traveling here for monthly meetings, I always enjoyed water options. In America, bottled water is now everywhere. I am old enough to remember the laughter of soft drink distributors with their new lines of bottled water. These dumb people are buying water... in plastic bottles! What's next? Oxygen in a can? ha ha ha...

Here, there are water options even from a counter top dispenser. It seems the Swiss love their carbonated water. I do, too. I'm told it is best for digestion, or even a stomach ache, helps with gastronomic needs. For me, it creates certain problems. Room temperature, cold, and even soda water, or water with carbonation are the dispenser options here.

When I first started drinking wasser mit kohlensaure, I just thought it was a slightly salty soda water.

me: Wasser, bitte? (I am requesting a bottled water from someone behind a counter)
clerk: Mit Kohlensaure?
me: Uh... Sprechen Sie Englisch?
clerk: Mit gas?
me: I'm sorry?
clerk: Do you want your water with or without gas?
me: Uh, with, I suppose.

For my non-American readers, if you haven't already noticed, you should understand I have quite a juvenile sense of humor. My humor du jour is most often targeted at the age level of my children, because my delight is in making them laugh. This includes the easy-laugh bodily functions. Well, I'll just be direct, I never matured here because I still laugh uncontrollably.

So, imagine me at 3pm, having chugged cup after cup of carbonated water, and the noises my internals are making. If you multiply this times the super-strength dehydrating Swiss coffee I was drinking earlier in the day, the cacophony of accoustics rumbling from my insides are an incredible distraction to my co-workers. Not to mention my frequency of restroom trips. Even in the restrooms, I am faced with choices of being very loud, and laughing at myself, or trying to find ways of being discreet. I most often choose the former, because that's just me. Mit Kohlensaure.

Italy

2009-08-31T12:43:00.000-07:00

Kris is making plans for travel to Rome over the October break. Sarah just found out when Kris asked me a question about rental car insurance.

sarah: We're going to Italy?
me: Yeah.
sarah: When??
kris: Over your October break.
me: I love Italian food.
sarah: They don't call it Italian food there. They call it food food.

Size matters

2009-08-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

Any non-driving co-worker who has attempted to enter the building where I work through the front door with a briefcase, a backpack, or their canoe will know the thoughts that follow.

A couple of days ago, I stepped into one of these security devices carrying my backpack. I don't carry much in my backpack. Some papers, my reduced-size German laptop. It's quite portable. The doors are a bi-directional revolving door. I am supposed to fit into one quarter of it as I enter or exit. Just entering into it is not enough. One is asked to coordinate a scan of one's security badge, mounted on the outside of the revolving door, while stepping inside to the one-quarter space. I can do this quickly as I step in, or I can step in and reach around, quickly retracting my arm before it is chewed off. This time, a couple of days ago, it just about got chewed off, luckily only bruised like a bottom-of-the-crate apple.

Now, most people who live and work in Switzerland are quite fit. Most are very attractive, very distinguished, polished. So to see me fold into one of these things, reach around for the scan, and then take 50 tiny baby steps until the door completes its one-quarter turn, now that's a sight. But to see me get chewed up and spit out on the other end like a side of beef becoming a hamburger, that's worth the CHF 8 for the Quarter-Turner With Cheese.

her: You should call that post "Size matters"
me: Hm.
her: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha... I'm so funny, I should be writing your blog.

Schnecken

2009-08-26T13:37:00.000-07:00

My posts have been getting more and more intolerable, not just to me but also to the 4 readers of this blog. So I should decide to change, or continue the pattern.

Here's a picture of a Zurich slug. "Slugs" (or "snails") translates to "Schnecken" in German. This summer, walking to work or to home has been an obstacle course. These disgusting creatures are everywhere, sliming their way to rotting on a sidewalk, or just plain rotting. I don't see them anywhere else except in my path. I'm told they eat plants, usually the ones people like to eat, so they are also a nuisance.

Bear sniffed this one on an outing because it was in the way of us getting from here to there, at which point I had to wait an extra 3 minutes just for it to extrude its eyeballs again so that I could take this photo. I'm told every creature has its place. This one tends to be more on the bottom of shoes.

Awash in sh...

2009-08-25T12:11:00.000-07:00

I now work daily in a building I've visited almost monthly for the past two years. The food in the cafeteria is really really good, as is the coffee. The restrooms are a bit different. In public, "WC" marks "water closet". In most cases, including in this office, they hide toilets in closet-sized rooms with locks on the doors. There's no need to listen to a gut blast in the stall next to you, nor ask the chap to hand you toilet paper from his spare roll. Here, you're in your own room. Just you, and a toilet, an annex from a sink room.

What absolutely shocked me yesterday about these rooms in this particular office building, what I hadn't noticed in two years, was a new sign. An instructional sign. Apparently, if one sits on one of these toilets, and uses one's elbow to press against the flusher, one finds oneself awash. Release it, and a happy blow-dry follows. After laughing out loud alone inside one of these rooms, just me, the toilet, the new sign, and a process I have never experienced, I walked into a shared space where someone was brushing their teeth. Of course, odd looks ensued, but it was a two-way odd exchange. Who brushes their teeth in a space where my post-process ass was blowing around???

Buffet

2009-08-23T04:48:00.000-07:00

I complain a lot about the heat and no air conditioning. I am told my complaining will only last a few weeks. The nights are cooler. I leave the windows wide open, hoping to catch a breeze. We're high enough off the ground to not worry about possible intruders, and the Swiss believe in their very low crime rate. A couple of nights have been almost as warm as the day, and in the evenings we swam in the lake to cool off, or I took a cold shower before bed. This must be how my grandparents lived as children, before central air conditioning was widely available.

The first day we left our apartment with our windows open and a light on, we came back to a scary movie scene. We spent the next 20 minutes vacuuming live bugs off the ceiling, chasing moths around the rooms. I don't see "screens" on homes here. Just these enormous windows with big sturdy hinges. I'm guessing 9 months out of the year it's just too cold and rainy for the bugs to grow in numbers to be any more than a minor nuisance.

I've actually been considering investing in mosquito nets, but that would follow an expectation that these bugs are an ongoing problem. At the moment, my mosquito bites have mosquito bites. Either there's a really really fat and happy mosquito family in Ruschlikon, or one of these things told a whole bunch of its friends where there's a free buffet.

Cinnamon and cloves

2009-08-22T03:45:00.000-07:00

I rode school buses to school for most of my student education. These are interesting inventions. A big tube of kids on wheels, no seat belts, a high center of gravity. When one is small, three can easily fit into a seat. When one gets to high school, and is still having to ride in one of these things, there's just not enough room to be sitting next to someone else.

There were several times on a bus, or at school, one of us kids would become ill and lose whatever contents we had in our stomach. Once in a while it would cause a chain reaction. A practiced bus driver would quickly grab a bag of whatever they used and would pour it onto the mess. The combined smell was something of cinnamon and cloves, with undertones of hork. It was so distinctive, one of my classmates wrote about this in a creative writing class some 7 years later, and I still remember it. I am occasionally flashed back into those moments when I eat a desert called "Apple Crisp", or anything with cinnamon and oatmeal. Wintery holiday seasons are good times.

When Kris and I were dating, she watched me sign a credit card bill for dinner, and asked me about my mysterious middle name.

her: What's the E of your middle initial stand for?
me: Exceptional.
her: No really.
me: Ok. Extraordinary.
her: Come on.
me: Fine. It's Eloquent.
her: Edward?
me: No.
her: Ernie?
me: No.
her: No? Not Ernie?
me: No.
her: Eric?
me: No.
her: Ezekial?
me: ...
her: Emily?
me: (blink)
her: Seriously, I give up.

It was a year before she finally found out by reading it on my new Arizona driver's license. I had forgotten I hadn't told her. My annoying behavior was more just a self-amusing game than anything else. It's a name that has been shared by a few members in my extended family, and I'm really quite proud to have it.

We've started to exhaust the American supplies we carried into Switzerland, and we're starting to slowly replace them from local stores. The other day, Kris bought me some new deodorant. I was of course over-using the old American antiperspirant because I'm a filthy sweat-beast at work these days, with no air conditioning, working in a sealed building located in an industrial district, a building with horrible circulation, and I have no hope of finding a refrigerator big enough to fit my dehydrating corpse.

I guess this is available in the States. It's new, and it has English words on it, so maybe that's why she picked it. I started using this new deodorant, and oddly the old memories of a short creative story titled "Cinnamon Yuck" came pouring back. It's not really what I want to smell like, considering this scent has a very specific trigger for me. Funny the power of what a simple smell can do.

I'm a curious sort. I read the label. All of the usual chemicals and additives with exaggerated names were recognized, save one. Eugenol. I had to look this one up on wikipedia. I learned it's extracted from the oils of cinnamon and cloves. Here's another purchased-in-Switzerland product I'm rubbing on my body that I am no longer comfortable with.

And yes, Eugene is my middle name.

An Italian, a Brit, and an American...

2009-08-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

An Italian, a Brit, and an American walk into a Swiss bar and order three beers. I wish I had a good joke for that. I don't. It actually happened tonight. I was the American.

I can say I enjoy working with them, but can also say I reaaaally enjoy drinking with them. I learn very interesting things from different perspectives. Like no one at the table knew why Velveeta is orange. Or why in the world would Americans individually wrap sliced cheese? Or why do American steaks taste soooooooo different than the cows in Switzerland? They're the same species. A colleague's husband articulated it nicely to me. "They're quite proud of their fitness cows here."

Hez

2009-08-20T12:56:00.000-07:00

I traded mz US laptop for a German laptop todaz. The US laptop needs to be returned to NZ. The kezboard on this laptop is different in too manz wazs to describe. The most obvious are that Zäs and Yäs are in traded positions, and an extra AltGr kez. The ä (apostrophe) is somewhere else I canät find. When I tzpe, it comes out looking like I donät know how to tzpe. I guess I donät.

One of mz colleagues said good luck with the question mark and the backslash. He said mz contraction of “do not”, which comes out looking like “donät” looks enough like the American word donut. I followed with a Homer Simpson: “mmmmmm donäts.” Heäs actuallz too cool to think that was funnz, but I laugh at mz own humor, and after all mz humor is reallz just to entertain me.

Another expat colleague who came before me received the nickname “Hez” because for a few weeks, thatäs how he started out his instant messaging chats to other people. “Hez”.

Itäs going to take some getting used to this. My boss said he has worked on US, Italian, and German kezboards. It takes a couple of weeks to adapt, and then I wonät have anz more problems.

Letäs hope.

Eat

2009-08-19T21:40:00.000-07:00

When I first met Kris, I was a gaunt 23-year-old, and food was not a priority. It was only something I did when I needed, but I had poor eating habits and my diet consisted of McDonald's or Buddig sandwiches with extra mayo. It actually worried Kris. On occasion, Gma Betty would invite me to eat dinner with them. During those times, I am told I would eat like "an army". Betty even mentioned to me "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't eat like that and still look the way you do." I hadn't learned to cook yet, I mean really cook. I could do simple things, but nothing creative.

It wasn't until I landed my first table-side waiter job at EBT in Kansas City that I started to understand the value of cooking, and experimenting with different foods. This particular restaurant awoke my curiosity about food, opened my eyes to what was possible. I started to cook, to impress others, to appreciate the work that goes into a fine meal. I learned to identify ingredients so that I could try to replicate the dish at home. Kris loved it.

In 20 years of being married, I used to cook every so often. I don't much any more except for special occasions, like when a boss comes over. Sarah loves those times. It's more likely we will eat out, either just Kris and me, or we will go as a family and eat like horses. Kris will cook, but it is not her favorite thing to do. It is definitely a lot of work, pre, during, and post. We rely on staples, dishes that are easy, ingredients that are cheap and with the least amount of effort. This is something I understand. Food is a necessity, not so much a priority.

When we moved to Switzerland, our family cook became somewhat disoriented. The ingredients here are very different. The restaurants are very expensive. From necessity comes invention. We started to see what we perceived to be European-style meals, or at least Kris' interpretation of what that means... plates of different kinds of cheeses with jams, assorted meats, bratwursts, pastas... Last night, this creativity came to an end.

her: I just don't know what to cook here.
me: Did you before?
her: Pff. You're a funny man. A bowl of cereal for you.

Post-worthy?

2009-08-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

Every weekday morning I walk the same path from the apartment to the bus stop. It isn't a long walk. Maybe 10 minutes. On days where I don't look at my watch, I usually have an extra 20 minutes to wait because I just missed the last one by moments. On such days, I'll walk an extra 5 minutes to the Thalwil Starbucks, and order a tall skim cappuccino. My Swiss colleagues laugh at me because it's just so American to order anything at Starbucks. For me, it's as natural as ... wearing business attire in the summer. I've done this a few times. Sometimes I'll see someone I know there, but mostly not.

Today was like any other day. Make-me-perspire-warm, a very clean and shiny morning, Starbucks cappuccino, sit out front on the sidewalk and watch the people walk by.... except today people were looking at me funny. For the most part, I kept repeating in my head they were looking at me funny because I was obviously an American, sitting out front of a Starbucks, drinking a coffee that was not European, wearing a tie in the middle of August. How stupid.

Finally, two younger ladies walked by, laughing... and laughing... they couldn't stop laughing. I kept my attention on my BlackBerry, reading my iGoogle page for what might be going on in the States... at 1am. I mean, I'm a married man. I can't be bothered by flirtatious Euro-fems.

one: (something to me in German, of which I look up like "huh?")
two: (laughing laughing laughing)
me: I'm sorry?
one: Oh, you only speak English?
me: Yes. (now I'm certain they are making fun of me somehow)
one: I asked you if you dropped something. (she points at the ground, a few inches from my shoe)
two: (laughing laughing laughing)
me: Uh... (I look, and realize in horror, I am looking at what can only be described as... a discarded condom)
one: (laughing, walking away)
two: (laughing, walking away)

Hmm. To post, or not to post.

Billetten

2009-08-13T14:34:00.000-07:00

I needed a train to get me from here to there. The first time I saw one of these things was in June, 2006. I stared at while in an airport. It's all in German. I thought maybe osmosis could somehow work. I kept staring.

Lucky for me, a Swiss person in a hurry was standing behind me, waiting for me to just get on with it. I looked at him, he looked at me, I looked at the machine, looked back at him, he looked at me again. It was pretty clear I was either an idiot in his way, or an idiot just about to no longer be in his way.

He moved around me, pushed a button with the word Zurich on it, slid in a 20 Franc bill, hit the jackpot with change, grabbed his ticket, moved on without another glance at me. I was the invisible idiot now. Another 20 minutes passes. I'm still staring at this thing, and this time I allow more people to get their tickets. The red Zurich button is popular, so I do the same. I have a ticket, I'm going from the airport to Enge, but how to get to Enge is still a mystery to me. Again lucky I find a train sign that has the word Enge on it. It's not that I'm a guy and can't ask directions, I tried that. The directions that came back to me were just in sounds I didn't understand.

Fast forward 3 years later. I still hate these machines. I know how to use them now, I know the rules. It's a very simple system once you understand it. Crossing that chasm takes no time at all if someone explains it to you. I'm always having to go somewhere, and these things take my money, so, they annoy me. "What? You haven't bought a pass yet???" "No. Getting to it, right after I meet with 3000 people individually who have something I need, or need something I have." In the mean time, I get these fun little pieces of paper.

They're no fun. The probability of pulling one out and showing it to a train conductor or ticket auditor is 1 in 90. That's how many times I have seen an auditor. I met one when I thought I had the right ticket, crossing the right number of zones. I misunderstood the person who told me what I needed to buy. I was short a zone, the zone I was in at the time the auditor checked. You see, in Zurich, they don't check for tickets very often. In fact, it's very very rare that they check at all. But if you don't have one of these things, or a pass of some sort, you pay CHF 80, and they record your passport info. That's what happened to me on one of my work travel trips here. Now I know the rules.

I don't know what to do with these things until I get my pass. Here you can see a few, nicely offset by the color of the wood floors in my bedroom. CHF 4, CHF 6.20, CHF 6.20, CHF 6.20, CHF 4, one way, full price. I'm an idiot.

Observations on quality

2009-08-10T11:44:00.000-07:00

I am learning what is meant by quality. I feel the only way I can do this is to have something to compare. Not just chocolates or watches. I mean, these are givens because they are the most widely known reputation about Switzerland.

The following are a few observations I can readily think of, but also what I have observed within my first 10 days:

If I compare the quality of my house with the quality of my rented apartment, I notice a few things. My house has lots and lots of shortcuts to maximize the builder's profits while also reducing his expenses. Lots and lots of shortcuts. I was so frustrated at how many shortcuts I noticed after we bought it, I now put home builders in nearly the lowest "trustability" category, just above Enterprise Content Management software sales vendors. My rented apartment has concrete floors that emanate heat in the winters, well insulated walls and windows (almost sound-proof when they are closed), stone tile floors in the bathrooms, a sunken stone tile shower floor where the water just disappears over the edge of something, and towel warmers in the bathroom. But the most curious of all to me is that all cabinets and drawers (and even some building doors) have these strange springs on their hinges or rollers that allow you to fling it to a point, and it closes the rest of the way on its own... very very quietly. Considering I used to awake early on weekends to someone opening and shutting cabinets without springs, constantly rummaging for something, this is a fantastic benefit. I can also understand why these are a necessity in Switzerland, considering QNQ ("quiet neighbor quotient") is a valuable score to maintain.
I've noticed a difference in cheese availability. Though I haven't tried this in somewhere like Wisconsin, I used to pay tons at wine & cheese bars in NY or Kansas. I would seek them out, just for the opportunity to ask them for cheese flights, to experience various appellations while resting comfortably on my rump, and to read the interesting provenance always so neatly printed for me in colorful language (English!) ... Here, I can go to almost any grocery store and find variations of cheeses I have never seen nor tasted, nicely portioned and lain in order of stink level, from soft to hard, from very mild to horribly poopy. I am working my way through all, just not all at once. Refrigerator space is a premium, and I will never be able to put in a can of diet coke and pull out a diet-coke-ice-cube-in-a-can. At least not without the ozone police handing me citations.
Everything here comes with a two-year automatic warranty. OMG - What? How is this possible?? I can just bring it back and get another one if it breaks? This must be built into the price of everything, because the actuarial hedging on something like that... either that, or these folks are very very confident about the quality of their purchases.
I learned today from an expat colleague a ton of useful things, of which I now owe someone later as I am expected to pay it forward. They will deliver my groceries for a small fee. Price Chopper would have laughed me out of the store. Here, they have no expectation one will lug home a 25lb bag of dog food on a train, bicycle, or by foot. They'll deliver it. To your door. With other groceries, too. I'll be taking advantage of this, considering I'm the lady's pack-mule. I am coveting my calories lately more than my francs. NO WAY am I spending calories on lugging any more.
Doggy poop disposal is paid for by the citizens, included in the taxes. Poopy socialism. All you have to do is utilize the bags they offer, and place the poop accordingly into the proper container. Every time. That's all. NEVER leave it. EVER... you disgusting uncaring imbecilic slob. EVER.