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)

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?

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!

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
...

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 (!)

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.

Coop or Migros?

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

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.

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.

Back, Day 4

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

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

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

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

PACK!

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

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

Ski

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

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

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

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

Hmm

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

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

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

Brain jolt, perspective shift.

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

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

Schlecht

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

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

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

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

Egg nine beef

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

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

Eliot Sharpener

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

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

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

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

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

Finally

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

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

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

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

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

Gross, Grosse, und "Gross"

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

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

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

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

Switches

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

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

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

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

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

I connect one. I fiddle with the other.

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

Box Day

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

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

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

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

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