Sometimes the nicest people in Switzerland aren't Swiss‏

Maybe it's because I'm tired, but I need to have a bit of a bitch (or whinge if you don't know what that means). Not that I've come across anyone bad, but sometimes the nicest people we've come across in Switzerland haven't necessarily been Swiss. And I apologise if you're Swiss and you're reading this. The fact you're reading this means you're nice. Thanks, it means a lot. But I haven't come across you yet, so it doesn't count.

Take the other night. We got back after four days in London and get a taxi home. The taxi driver turned out to be a nice guy, who conversed with us, helped with our luggage, etc - but he wasn't Swiss. He was French Moroccan.

Sometimes, the Swiss (and I don't know if this is a Swiss French or just a Swiss thing) can really punish you if you're foreign. Especially in language. If you don't speak French, sometimes you'll get little help. Even if they speak perfect English. And I know that sounds really stupid and ignorant of me - I'm in a French-speaking country and I should learn French. I am, and really I'm trying and I make an utter fool of myself sometimes when I do try. But it's almost like there's this slight sadistic attitude towards expats sometimes. Even if expats try really hard and speak French and make the effort, and the Swiss can see that, they sometimes still don't cut us a break.

I'm not really sure what it is. The Swiss are not xenophobic, but I think they could be elitist. And why not, I guess it is their country. But still, sometimes some people don't make for a welcome.

I can't really blame the Swiss I guess, when I see the statistics that suggests they might feel as though their country is being overrun by expats. In Switzerland, 20% of the population are foreign and in Geneva, it's worse, almost 40%. With stats like that, I can see how some Swiss may think they're strangers in their own land, and react against that.

I genuinely think that most Swiss, at their core, are a nation of warm, friendly people - once you get to know them. And that's the thing. It's my job, as an expat, to scratch their veneer of 'just another foreigner' and get to know them. Because who wouldn't want Swiss friends?

Three countries in one day – Europe is at your feet

So I’m typing this on a TGV train, belting across the French countryside at about 300km/hr. This morning I had breakfast in Switzerland; I’ll have lunch in France; and dinner in Belgium.

For me, this is what being in Europe is all about. Being able to jump on an insanely fast train and cross entire countries, their languages and cultures included, in just a matter of hours.

I spent the better part of two days travelling from Australia to get to Europe. Today, in one day, I’ll spend time in three different countries. For someone that is from a place where a two and a half hour flight doesn’t even get you out of the state, let alone the country, this seems quite remarkable.

Just like someone from Europe has difficulty comprehending the vast distances and time needed to travel in Australia, I’m still adjusting to how compact Europe is; to learn that when my boss says ‘let’s send you to Paris for one day and Brussels the next’, it’s not that big a deal.

The trains and the low-cost airlines that service Europe make it so much easier. Looking up the cost of a return flight to London on easyjet, I was stunned to find you can get flights for as little as CHF90 (US$ and Aus$ are nearly parity with the Swiss Franc – CHF). The train I’m on from Geneva to Paris takes three hours.

When Emperor D and I moved to Switzerland, one of our goals was to try and travel throughout as much of Europe as possible. I think that through virtue of my work I’ll get to do that quite a bit, and on the longer trips, or trips that can be turned into a weekend somewhere, Emperor D will tag along. But we hope that sometimes we’ll say ‘let’s go to Prague/Amsterdam/Berlin/Stockholm/Madrid this weekend’. And it won’t be a big deal – a cheap easyjet flight, a room in a budget hotel, and Europe is at our feet.

The unglamorous world of Swiss banking

When telling our friends that we were moving, the thing they found most amusing about us going to Switzerland was having to open a Swiss bank account. There’s something about Swiss bank accounts that makes them sound so… glamorous.

Saying someone has a Swiss bank account conjures up images of shady billionaires trying to dodge tax or James Bond, The Saint’s Simon Templar or Jason Bourne.

Swiss bank paper overload!

The reality is far different; I know as I now have a Swiss bank account. Sorry to disappoint, but there are no hand prints on electronic screens, voice recognition or retina scans required to open one. All you need is an address and some identification, like your passport, and in 5 – 10 working days, you too can have your own Swiss bank account.

I went with the distinctly unglamorous Swiss bank of PostFinance – the bank of the Swiss national post office. A lot of locals use them and they have low fees. It’s all very efficient. I will say two things on them though: I’ve never been so overwhelmed with paperwork in one hit – I received six different envelopes relating to my account in one day (see right); and two, that their internet banking is quite secure. In the top right of the photo, you’ll see a bright yellow device that looks pretty much like a calculator. To access internet banking, you need your bank card, the calculator thing, a nine digit internet banking number and a password. It’s not retina scanning, but that’s some hard core security for internet banking.

At least I know my hard-earned is locked up tight like it’s in a Swiss bank. Oh, er…

Swiss trains don’t run like Swiss clockwork

You know the saying – ‘it runs like clockwork’. The Swiss are world famous for the accuracy of their watches and clocks. But apparently the same precision of time doesn’t extend to their trains. You might be quite surprised – I’m frankly amazed – but Swiss trains rarely seem to run on time.

Here’s an example. I’m currently staying just outside a small village 18kms north of Geneva that I’ve nicknamed Sticksville. There’s nothing there – it feels like it’s out in the sticks. To get to work each morning, I hike 10 minutes along roads with no footpaths; then get a bus to one of two towns, either Coppet or Nyon; then get the train to Geneva. It’s a bit painful, but really, there are people in the world with worse commutes.

But I’m quite reliant on public transport, and I need to rely on that public transport being on time, as the bus to and from Sticksville village only runs every 30 mins. Miss it, and I’ll be waiting in the cold for nearly half an hour. Thankfully I haven’t missed it yet, especially since the weather has become much colder – daytime temps are currently only around 1C.

So this evening on the way home from work, I thought I would take a train to Nyon that would give me some time to run into the supermarket to pick up some food before I caught the bus for Sticksville (because of course, there’s no supermarket in Sticksville).

The train for Nyon was scheduled to leave Geneva at 6.00pm precisely. When I arrived at the designated platform, I was a little confused – there was another train sitting there, with the destination of Geneva Airport. Then, looking up at the departure board, I noticed that this train was due to depart seven minutes’ late. The train finally leaves, and my train for Nyon pulls up; the sign flicks over to say that the train will now leave five minutes’ late, at 6.05pm. I think to myself ‘okay, slightly annoying; probably now won’t make the supermarket before the bus leaves, but at least I’ll still make the bus with a couple of minutes to spare’.

Wrong. I get on the train and wait for it to leave. And wait; 6.05pm ticks past and we’re still waiting. I glance at my watch: 6.10pm. I now think it’ll be touch and go to make the Sticksville bus, let alone pick up some food. We’re still waiting. Other passengers look at their watches. The train finally gives up a small cough and crawls at snail’s pace out of the station. I check my watch: 6.15pm, 15 minutes’ late. If the train had been on time, I would’ve been at my destination by now.

I realise that I now won’t make the Sticksville bus from Nyon, and decide to get it from the other direction by getting off the train a stop early at Coppet. I hop off at Coppet at 6.26pm, just a minute before the bus leaves in Nyon and feel sorry for those still on the train who have no choice but to get buses from Nyon; they’ve certainly missed them. I get the bus to Sticksville from Coppet with no problems, but with no nearby supermarket, I head home empty-handed.

However, if that isn’t bad enough, confusion often reigns at Geneva’s Gare Cornavin train station. They frequently change platforms where trains depart from, often with only a minute or two notice before it’s *supposed* to leave. Announcements are made over the public address system and people inwardly groan and shuffle along to the new platform.

For a Swiss public transport system, I’m utterly stunned at the – admittedly quiet – chaos that sometimes prevails. For a nation famous for its precision in timing, the lack of it among its transport system beggars belief. It’s something completely uncharacteristic and unexpected. I’m glad to see however, that not even the Swiss are perfect.

An update on the snow

Just a quick update on the snow - I mentioned in my last post that the weather here had been unseasonably warm and there was no snow. How things can change in just a few days! It had been getting noticeably colder the last couple of days, and today, with its temp of around 2C, was easily the coldest I've experienced so far, especially with the wind chill coming off the lake.

Then, early this afternoon, I looked up from my desk at work and suddenly gave a small shriek, startling my team mates - snow! It was very light snowfall - what some people would call a snow flurry - but it was falling snow nonetheless. At first it was very brief, only 30 seconds' worth or so, but more snow fell for longer a bit later.

Unfortunately I didn't get photos, but if it snows again I will get a couple and edit this post by including them. My team mates were all amused - as you can imagine - but nobody can take away my delight at finally seeing some snow fall! Hopefully more snow will fall, especially in the mountains, and then in a couple of weeks Emperor D and I can go up to the snow fields. Watch this space!

Got snow?

The Jet d'Eau with a clear Mont Blanc
in the background, middle.

Well, it’s mid-winter and Switzerland doesn’t. I confess that having never really seen snow before, seeing fresh, powder snow was high on my list of must-see things when I first arrived in Switzerland, now just over a week ago. Before this, the closest I’d come to seeing snow was seeing slush – snow that had fallen a few days previously – on the top of Mt Rigi, near Lucerne, ironically also in Switzerland. That was in June, which is the beginning of summer, four and a half years ago.

Since I arrived, the weather has been unseasonably warm. Switzerland should be buried under two feet of powder snow and its citizens should be shivering under grey skies in temps hovering around 0C. Instead, I’ve been welcomed by temps around 10C – 13C (although today was a little colder, ‘only’ 6C) and brilliant, clear, sunny skies.

I should be grateful, especially since this Aussie came from mid-summer temps in the high 30s. I guess its Geneva’s way of providing me with a warm welcome (sorry, bad pun) and allowing me to gradually acclimatise to the cooler weather, rather than the shock of arriving in snowy, freezing conditions.

Images like these – bright sunny skies and warmer than expected weather – has certainly endeared me to Geneva. It’s much easier to like a place under these skies than grey wet ones.

A glorious sunny day in Geneva, but no snow
on the mountains says it all.

Still, I’m a little disappointed at seeing no snow. There’s no snow on top of the mountains either. In fact, a planned day to go snow shoeing in the Jura mountains with my new work colleagues had to be changed to a terrifying attempt at ice skating instead. No snow means I had to try ice skating for the first time since I was 16. It was not pretty – even 5 year old Swiss kids put me to shame.

The Genevoise are certainly lapping it up – some literally. I was too nice not to take photos, but yesterday I saw nude sunbathers soaking up the sun – despite it being only 13C – and today someone was swimming in the freezing cold water of Lac Leman (that’s Lake Geneva). More than one person stared and pointed at this lady, who clearly had a death wish by wanting to contract pneumonia. 

The Genevoise take advantage of the sunshine

Other Genevoise take to the promenades, strolling, riding, rollerblading in the sunshine with family and friends. Emperor D and I joined them. With Geneva even more backwards than Perth in having all the shops closed on Sundays, there’s not much else to do, but on a day like today, nobody would complain.

How could you when you’ve found yourself fortunate enough to live in a place like this? 

Bienvenue a Geneve

That’s French for welcome to Geneva, where I finally arrived after a killer 26 hours of travelling two and a half days ago. I’m so glad to be here at last. But let me back track a little firstly, as it’s been awhile since my last post.

Mountains from the Quai de Mont Blanc.
You can supposedly see Europe's highest mountain
from here and I thought it was the mountain
the middle; it's actually the one hidden by
cloud to the right of the building.

That’s basically because it’s been a whirlwind of farewells, packing, cancelling accounts – and lying by the pool reading, relaxing and doing nothing. I should explain that my parents live a couple of hours’ flight away from me, and I usually see them only every six months. A couple of months before I knew I was moving, I’d booked flights to see them for about a week just after Christmas. Turns out it was a good move, as it allowed me to relax and spend some time with them shortly before leaving, but it also means the manic period before I left became even more so. Still, it was certainly worth it.

There was also loads of packing. Our house looked like a bomb had hit it for a number of days – and I imagine it still does, as Emperor D hasn’t left yet and is finalising arrangements.

The left bank and the famous Jet d'Eau.

But I got here on Thursday morning. It was a long, long, trip. I had two stopovers in Singapore and Frankfurt before finally getting to Geneva, with waits at airports in between. I’ve always said that if I could have any magic superpower, it would be teleportation – a la Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie crossing her arms and blinking her eyes and voíla, she was instantaneously somewhere else – and never more so than after spending 13 hours squashed into an economy class seat.

So I arrived, and despite feeling pretty wiped out, I managed to venture out and take a look around. Wow. How fortunate am I to have landed in such a beautiful place. It was quite cloudy as you can see in most of the photos, except for the last one, which was taken today when it was much sunnier. In fact, the weather has been ridiculously un-winter like. There’s little snow on top of the mountains (real mountains!), and it’s been cool, around 10C – 13C, not bitingly cold. Hopefully I’ll get to see some snow before the winter out at this rate!

Lake Geneva - or Lac Lemán as the locals call it -
looking north from the Jetée des Paquis. Looks
like you can go for a swim - if you don't mind your
water being a chilly 10C - 14C.

I’m surrounded by people from over 100 nations – Geneva is a true melting pot, and you can see this in the variety of restaurants the city hosts. There’s the standard Italian, Thai, and Chinese, but I’ve also seen Japanese, Peruvian, Turkish even Ethiopian restaurants. And of course, there’s the French-influenced boulangeries, charcuteries and brassieres.

As for my French, I’m not doing too bad. I had started to learn several weeks before leaving Australia, by listening to lessons on my iPod. I’m glad I had learnt some French though. Despite being a city of over 100 nations and their accompanying languages, it seems some Genevoise speak little English. Not that I’m complaining – I relish the challenge of learning a new language - but I was surprised. I’ve learnt enough to get by in restaurants and shops. I feel quite proud of my French, which I imagine to the Genevoise is appallingly pronounced and delivered in a thick accent. But I think they appreciate my efforts.

The left bank - sans the Jet d'Eau - today,
when it was much sunnier.

While I’m looking forward to getting under Geneva’s skin a little more and exploring Switzerland as much as I can, my first few days have been interesting and filled with new sights, and I already have some great ideas for blogs in the future. Watch this space!