CLAP

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

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

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

Lines

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

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"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.