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.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Mad Men
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.
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.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Twelve
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.
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.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Cuss
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.
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.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Limbo
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Fluffy
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?
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?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Fashion
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...
Friday, August 27, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Food prices in Switzerland (re-revisited)
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: ...
Monday, August 16, 2010
Food prices in Switzerland (revisited)
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.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Zurich Street Parade
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.
- 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.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Parallel
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.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
McDonald's
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.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Metrics
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?
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?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Driving
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.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Moo
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.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Gina
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.
Anyway, major hugs from the kids made my early-morning adventure worthwhile.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Mosquitoes
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.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
What???
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.
Leaving Kansas City this Friday to head back to Switzerland until winter. I love Kansas City, my home.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
OMG American Airlines
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.
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.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Summer
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.
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.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
There's clothes for that
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...
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Car
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.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Perceptions
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?
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?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Rain
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.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Food prices
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Pop Tarts
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?
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Sechseläuten
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.
Poor Böögger. He never had a chance with the evil Lord Farquart.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Mustard
Please pass the mustube.This stuff is like wasabi. My TRPA1 receptors crave this stuff. It goes wonderfully with snossages.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Spring
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
OMG Italy
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Cough
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.
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.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Crosswalks
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.
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.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Pub
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)
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)
Monday, March 15, 2010
Mike Babel'er
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tipping
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.
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.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Beds, revisited
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.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Lost and found
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Photos
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...
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...
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Lines, revisited
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?
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?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Beds
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!
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!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Mobility
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."
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."
Friday, February 5, 2010
What the ... ?
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Honk
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
...
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
...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Awareness
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 (!)
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 (!)
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Herr Hair
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.
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.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Things I miss 3
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.
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.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Nullachtfünfzehn
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.
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.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Walking
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.
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.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Oh yay. The Louds have returned.
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
OMG Kansas City
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.
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