Steep learning curves

I’ve been in Switzerland for nearly a week now and I can’t believe how quickly the time has flown by. How much has happened over the last 6 days. How much I think I’ve probably started to change.

So what have I learnt so far?

I have learnt…

… that I’m a law-abiding citizen. The Swiss are a funny bunch. They love their bureaucracy. They love their rules.  Switzerland is a haven of good manners and doing everything in the right way. There is very little crime in Switzerland. Sure, I currently live in the red light district and, yes, like anywhere, clusters of teenagers hang around smoking, shouting and drinking. But seriously, how can you feel intimidated by a gang who wait for the green man before crossing the road?

…that I’m more of a linguist that I first thought. Listening to people in the Big Company is funny. All sorts of accents, languages and tones fill the air. Because Big Company is such a multinational place (especially here, in the head office), everyone speaks a strange sort of patois. And I’ve started to join in. “Bonjour, how are you?” “The meeting room’s over here, non?”. “Ok, see you, ciao“ Ok, so pretty basic. But for me, it’s quite a step. And of course, once I start my French lessons, well…. vous ne pourrez pas m’arrêter

…that bureaucracy drives me mad. More than inefficiency. Ok, so it’s a stereotype. The Swiss are bureaucratic. Ha ha. However, it’s a stereotype for a reason. It’s true. This morning I went to the canton office place (see, get me with all my official terms) to go and register (just so they know their slack border control have let in). We went early. We had been warned about the queues. As it happens, there weren’t any and I’d got up an hour earlier than I needed for no reason. But anyway… forms had previously been filled out. My birth certificate (very relieved to find out I was who they said I was), passport, contract, letter from Big Company, left toe measurement and date of last time I cried all produced. “Major?” the lady said, “is theese your father’s name?”. *Sigh* – how do you say “Where’s the nearest wall to bang my head against” in French?
 
…that hills aren’t as bad as I thought. At the moment, I’m lucky enough to walk to work. It’s great - all downhill. I do that funny walk where my feet aren’t quite quick enough to stay up with my head and therefore do a half-run-walk all the way down the chemins. “It’s not the coming down”, my colleagues crowed, “it’s the going up!” They were right, Monday evening, I started my trek. I felt as if I should have a sherpa and one of those dogs with brandy (the name of whom I’ve forgotten – St Bernards?). And possibly oxygen. However, half an hour later (bearing in mind it only took me 15 minutes to get to work that morning) I was up at the top of the hill(s). Hoorah! Tuesday morning dawned, I couldn’t move. Legs. Cardboard. But now it’s Friday, and my legs are fine. It’s only taking me 25 minutes to get home and I can almost breathe at the end of it all.  

…I’ve stopped looking for things I can’t have. The Swiss aren’t known for their love of gastronomy.  Chocolate, yes. Cheese, yes. Hot cheese, yes. General food? No. Par example, go to the crisp “aisle” in your local Migros or Coop and what will you find? 3 flavours. Salted. Paprika. Wasabi. (yes, I know, wasabi crisps?). Go to the meat fridges. Chicken? CHF20 for a pack of breast (that’s about £15). Price per kilo of beef? CHF40. With that in mind (and the fact I’m on a very tight budget this month) I’m going without. I’ve turned into some sort of italian. Living of bread and pasta and wine. Not all bad then!

What will next week bring?