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.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
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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