The Curious Case of Swiss Queues
And five other things I have noticed lately!
Well, it’s a new record. Over a month since my last blog post. I knew this would happen and I told myself over and over again to draft posts in advance - alas, time is a bit of a slippery minx, isn’t she? But finally, we had a weekend where the conditions were just right: cold, foggy, drizzly, and zero social plans. I used to feel a bit guilty about having a lazy weekend in Zurich. If we weren’t traveling, or hiking, or doing something quintessentially #swisslife, then we weren’t taking full advantage of living here and then really, what were we doing thousands of miles away?!
I’ve since gotten over that. Truth be told, I love a good long lazy weekend, where if we want to, we can unabashedly hole up like hermits for a whole 48 hours. And I can take a breath, and catch up on all the things. Which is exactly what I did. I caught up on schoolwork, so I could finally feel like I wasn’t just frantically trying to keep my head above water, but comfortably swim in this new academic sea. To be honest, this is how I spent the majority of this past rainy weekend. But also, I caught up with friends and family from home. I caught up on books that are not pompously-written academic journals (I finished The Ten Thousand Doors of January and am just digging into Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad.) I caught up on sleep. I caught up on home-cooking, letting my soup lazily simmer for as long as I wanted, allowing all those flavors meld together like they should, because I felt like I had all the time in the world. I caught up on the many logistics and odds and ends that come with being an adult. And I caught up on writing. Which felt so good.
I have three or four different stories in various stages of drafts, but that being said, this is the first one that I finished. Bear with me - it is a little bit of a grab bag. None of these topics were big enough for a full standalone post, but all five of them have been on my mind lately. They are all, in some way, related to life in Switzerland, or life abroad, or - just life in general.
Disclaimer: I mainly wanted an excuse to post a lot of pictures of Switzerland in the fall. So fair warning that with the exception of #1, none of these photos correspond with the content.
1. Dreamy fall colors
Well, let’s start with the obvious. Fall colors. You did me good this season, fall. Was it just me, or did fall put on a particularly masterful show this year? It could be that I was simply noticing the subtle changes more, but either way, every single day of October was better than the day before it. My memories of last year’s colors aren’t as vivid. I remember having an unseasonably warm start to the month, then all the colors changing in the span of a week, and then bam - winter. It was like a “now you see it, now you don’t” magician’s sleight of hand, suddenly switching overnight from one season to the next.
This year’s autumn has been deliciously drawn out, the green ever-so-delicately disappearing throughout the country, and I don’t care if I’ve taken 100 “feet with colorful leaves” photos, I simply can’t get enough. Fire-orange trees along the terrace at ETH, the burnt amber trees on the plaza at Lindenhof, yellow grasses and red blueberry bushes in the Alps, the kaleidoscope of colors along the base of Uetliberg, and my personal favorite, the golden larches in Valais: a tree just like an evergreen, but dipped in feathery layers of yellow and mustard paint, so bright they almost glowed, and unlike anything I’ve seen. Yesterday, a strong mix of wind and rain brought down most of the leaves for good, but man, how beautifully they went to their graves.
Seasons are a big deal to the Californian in me, and one of my favorite things about living in Zurich is experiencing these seasonal shifts. Days get shorter, mornings get colder. Chunky sweaters and wool coats get pulled from storage and the depths of closets, dusted off, and shaken awake. Fondue pots appear in all the shops, and instead of heat lamps, cafes cover their outdoor seats with thick furry throws and heavy blankets. Heisse maroni stands line Bahnhofstrasse, smokey and nutty and warm, (which are, unsurprisingly, exorbitantly priced, but gosh darn it I will by some this year), and even though it's still a bit too early for gluhwein, I know it’s only a matter of time. Swiss fall even convinced my husband, someone who just “didn’t get the big deal about fall,” to embrace fall colors as much as I do. Someone get this guy a pumpkin spice latte.
1a. The most wonderful time
Relatedly, and on the topic of gluhwein - the Swiss holiday season has also made my husband a believer. I can’t even be that sad about all the fall colors disappearing, because that means that the holiday festivities are almost here. And this season is pure magic. On November 21st, at 6pm sharp, the famous “Lucy” lights will illuminate the sky above Bahnhofstrasse, heralding the beginning of the holiday season. As I type this, the cozy and wintry fondue chalets are being constructed throughout the city. It becomes socially acceptable to drink mulled wine at any point in the day. Christmas markets, plucked straight from the inside of a snow globe, transform the streets and plazas and train stations into gingerbread-town wonderlands. The whole atmosphere is whimsical and romantic and festive. I can’t wait.
2. The curious cases of Swiss queues
Switzerland is one of the most organized countries I’ve ever lived in. Even going to the post office, or dare I say, the DMV, is a quasi-delightful process. Ok, maybe delightful is too strong of a word. But if you have ever been to the DMV in the United States, then you know that describing it in any terms kinder than a hellish punishment is saying something. But I digress. Here in Switzerland, things are orderly. There are standards that people living here have all agreed, consciously or unconsciously, to abide by. And these standards are essentially based on just being a good neighbor and overall decent human (or being abnormally quiet, if you are a Swiss dog). But I’ve found it - the one place where this whole system breaks down. It’s taken me a year to realize and even longer to accept, but it’s like one of those things that once you see it, you can’t unsee. Or more accurately, once you experience, you are shocked it took you this long to observe. But here it - apologies for shattering every illusion you might have had about an Switzerland.
The Swiss are terrible at forming lines. Terrible with a capital T.
Even the concept of a “line” doesn’t seem to exist. It’s more like a group of people, all somewhat standing together, with no rhyme or reason or order. Sometimes everyone just mobs around the ticket window or entrance, and whoever happens to get noticed first is first. People seem to join the line from the sides, in whatever spot they choose, with zero consideration about the people (me! Hi! me!) standing behind them. Sometimes it’s so overt, I have to just laugh at the audacity. Sometimes it’s more subtle, with someone coming up to stand (close! So close!) behind you, to one side. And then, slowly, before you even know what is happening (but you will now, because I’m telling you), they inch forward, and all of a sudden you see them walking away because they already bought their tickets while you are still standing like a chump in line.
No matter what the style, it is shameless. SHAMELESS, I tell you. Maybe the one slightly Swiss thing about this is that they will rarely make eye-contact with you. It’s the essence of passive-aggressiveness. As if they know they are brazen line-cutters, flagrantly disregarding the most socially acceptable standard that unites us all as humans. And as such, I continue to find myself in a bit of a pickle. Do I cut the line? Do I wait? Does standing in line make me a sucker? Can only Europeans cut? Does cutting make me an entitled American? My friend once tried to cut, and she got yelled at in disapproving Swiss German. Do you just need to do it with confidence? What are the rules here?! These existential questions need answers.
3. Can I have my Swiss passport, now?
And speaking of all those rules, I realized something about myself the other day: I get a bit annoyed when fellow expats don’t follow the rules. Especially if they pride themselves on it. I was talking to another American a couple of weeks ago, discussing how one of the hardest parts of moving to Switzerland was trying to get rid of all the cardboard and miscellaneous packaging that comes with moving. Because, of course, you are only supposed to use the Zuri-sacks (the expensive city-issued trash bags) for actual trash, and tie up the cardboard and paper separately, to be picked up on their designated collection day to be recycled. That collection day, however, only occurs once per month, and the cardboard and paper pick-up are on different days - so all that leftover packaging could be sitting in your basement storage unit for weeks (does anyone else use their storage unit for this? Just us?). See this post here for a slightly exhaustive break-down with how Zurich deals with trash. Spoiler: it’s a lot.
But you do it anyway, because that is the system! And then she, very nonchalantly, said “oh, we couldn’t be bothered to do all that. We just stuffed everything in the trash can.” I was SHOOK. Somebody out there, just blatantly breaking the rules like that. I never. Then she proceeded to tell me how they always vacuum on Sundays, and then about five other things that they do or don’t do because they were inconvenienced, or simply didn’t want to do. Not cool!
I know the Swiss way of life can sometimes seem extreme, especially to us Americans. I may be making a sweeping generalization here, but ex-pats in Switzerland (and in general) chose to move countries on their own free will. Even if you did move here unwillingly, the simple fact is that countries are run in different ways. Sometimes yes, this means you might have to change your ways. They run a tighter ship here. But it is specifically this aspect of Swiss culture, the mutual respect of the rules and the expectation that others will also abide by them, the idea of community (and maybe even a little bit of public-shaming) that makes things work so well. And generally, there is a logic behind it all. Let’s take this trash example. The reason that you break-down and tie the cardboard is for the benefit of those who are picking it up. You do your part to make the process easier and more efficient for everyone. There is dignity in the labor. The trash bags are expensive and taxed in order to incentivize minimizing your personal waste and to encourage recycling. All good things that require collective community action to be effective. And it just rubs me the wrong way when an ex-pat decides not to do it because they deem it “dumb” or “pointless.” I, for one, really appreciate the system! And honestly, I think that respecting the system has made the entire process of integrating a little bit easier.
P.S. I also just really appreciate the trash system here. I think the attention to the amount of individual trash we accumulate is important and eye-opening, and the personal responsibility placed on dealing with the trash you produce is so effective in ultimately reducing overall waste. I wish the United States would adopt something (anything!) even slightly similar to the Swiss system, so maybe that is why I get a bit up in arms on this specific topic.
4. Assimilation vs. Integration
If you just read the above and though, man - this girl is wound up way too tight - don’t worry. I, too, realized that I also have maybe gotten a bit **too** serious about this. Because at the end of the day, I’m not Swiss. I’m American. And anyone who knows me, knows that strict, buttoned-up, timid rule-follower I am not. I let my hair down. I get crazy. Also, I’m loud! Like, really loud. I come from a boisterous, feisty, half-Mexican family full of women, and I am the loudest one of our whole bunch - which is saying a lot. But since moving here, I have gotten so anxious about being seen as rude, or offensive, or being the stereotypically loud, disrespectful American that maybe, just maybe, I have swung a bit too far to the other side. Raunaq reminds me of this all the time, especially when I feverishly tell him to turn down the music on a Sunday morning because...it’s Sunday. It’s FINE, Alex. Relax. Even the Swiss don’t follow all the rules all the time.
There is a line, right? It’s that subtle, but important, difference between assimilation and integration. Between adopting the ways of another culture and fully becoming part of a different society on the one hand, and retaining aspects from my own unique culture which in turn transforms and enhances society on the other. Between being a decent human and a good neighbor and a respectable ex-pat by following the rules that make Swiss society function as seamlessly as it does, and also - to still be myself. I’ll admit, I’m still trying to find a way to best straddle this line. I’m still not gonna vacuum on Sundays, but maybe I’ll play the music a little louder.
I’m curious to know if anyone else struggles with finding this balance here in Switzerland? Or living in any foreign country, for that matter?
5. Age is just a number - right?
I’ve been in my head about this a whole lot lately. One of the hardest parts of going back to school has simply been accepting the fact that I’m older than everyone. Even, yes, one of my professors - who in his introduction included the fact that he was 31 and married - is older than me. It’s been a bit of a mental block, and something I’m struggling to get over. I’m getting there! But. But.
Switzerland has made it a bit hard for me to forget it. My age, that is. Now, I’m not saying that Switzerland is any more or less ageist than society as a whole. But I am saying that there are some particular things here that have made me more aware of my age than anywhere else I’ve lived. Like how it is the standard expectation to write your age (and marital status) on job applications and resumes. And how job descriptions used to specify a preferred age range, and rarely did that range go above the age of 35. Or how when I inquired into applying to my current grad school program, the advisor recommended that I take the GRE not because it was required based on my credentials (it wasn’t), but to prove to the admissions committee that my skills “were still up to par” for the rigors of the courses given how long ago I graduated (read: to prove that I wasn’t senile in my old age of 32). I don’t qualify for student discounts on any of my transit passes because even though I am a valid student, they only offer student discounts for students under 30. And yes, my student ID has my birthdate on it.
I’m 33. That may be old by Swiss standards. It’s almost geriatric by Swiss health care standards. It’s verifiably ancient for Swiss grad school standards. But the silver lining here? All this focus on age has given me pause to reflect on the last decade, and how much I have dramatically stretched, grown and experienced since I was 22. Traveled to places I never would have expected. Lived in different countries and cities. Found a career path I loved. All those experiences, those years, add up. And I wouldn’t change my journey for one minute. So here’s my little reminder to all you out there, who are doing things your own way and on your own time and on your own terms - you do you, and don’t let anyone say you can’t.
And you know what? I also gave a 30-minute, kick-ass talk to my Democracy class that impressed all of my other classmates, who complimented me on my “natural” (ha!) ease with public speaking and on my PowerPoint presentation skills. Because that, my friends, is work and life experience in action. I knew it’d finally come in handy.
And now, I’m off to buy some overpriced roasted chestnuts!
