tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2009-11-08:/Came to Switzerland for six months three years ago. Haven't got round to going home yet.MokoFeed2009-11-08T18:13:15+01:00tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-08-06:/2007/08/06/i_m_moving~2762122/ZoeandBruno2007-08-06T08:18:23+02:002007-08-06T08:18:23+02:00 <p>...to here.</p> <p><a href="http://www.zoeandbruno.vox.com">www.zoeandbruno.vox.com</a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/08/06/i_m_moving~2762122/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-07-30:/2007/07/30/back_in_the_game~2728899/ZoeandBruno2007-07-30T20:29:10+02:002007-07-31T07:20:38+02:00 <p>Through our door today came the latest offering from our friends the SVP*.</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1842888" title="SVP latest"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/888/1842888_c7e8e51971_m.jpg" alt="SVP latest" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a></p> <p>I won't insult your intelligence by pointing out the symbolic nature of the darling sheep, but the translation for the text is roughly:</p> <p>'Few countries have as many foreigners living in it as Switzerland [<em>They're called tax exiles and they work for Siemens and Johnson & Johnson. 'Yeah we know, but we don't mean those ones, we mean the other ones. You know.'(people actually say that here. Quite a lot.)</em>]. A large group of these respect our laws. However far too many foreigners disregard our hospitality. They commit grave crimes, threaten our possessions, our health and our lives.'</p> <p>While I am now in fear for my life, it is mostly from the neo nazi parades that will start on Wednesday (Swiss national day). Incidentally, on the other side of this leaflet billows a Swiss flag and we are told to sign our names to a safe Switzerland on 1st August. Even though this date has nothing to do with the vote itself. </p> <p>This leaflet is for an initial stage of the Swiss legal system, where the SVP have to gather a certain number of signatures to bring this motion to a national referendum. Bruno and I have returned our form, stating in no uncertain terms what we think about this latest monstrosity.</p> <p>*Sorry. Just to be really really boring I must repeat again that this is THE most powerful party in Switzerland. Just so you know. Still.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/07/30/back_in_the_game~2728899/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-07-25:/2007/07/25/blogless~2697808/ZoeandBruno2007-07-25T11:06:46+02:002007-07-25T11:06:46+02:00 <p>And so it seems I haven't written anything here in a month. What's the etiquette at this point; apologies? excuses? examination of the psychological state of mind which has stopped me sharing my thoughts? Perhaps an explanation.</p> <p>April: "Zoe and Bruno buy a house they weren't expecting!" Ooh the commitment! The excitement!</p> <p>May: "Zoe and Bruno renovate a house and plan a wedding!" Ooh the feeling of taking on too much! The excitement!</p> <p>June: "Zoe and Bruno get married!" Ooh the romance! The excitement! The joy and happiness!</p> <p>July: "Zoe and Bruno go back to work. Work resumes on the house. Zoe cleans the bathroom." Ooh the....</p> <p>Don't worry, the Swiss will do something to annoy me soon. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/07/25/blogless~2697808/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-27:/2007/06/27/by_the_way~2530415/ZoeandBruno2007-06-27T15:56:20+02:002007-06-27T15:56:20+02:00 <p>Wedding highlights:</p> <p>Against Bruno's better judgement, Family Bruno jodelled. Get in.</p> <p>Being given a piece of communion wafer so big it actually didn't fit in my mouth. Having to stuff it into my mouth with both hands and then chow down like a cow. </p> <p>My sister avoiding potential choking on a wafer by crossing her arms for a blessing. The Swiss priest having no idea what this signified, resulting in a Communion stare down. </p> <p>All my freinds fancying Bruno's brothers.</p> <p>Bruno's brothers fancying my friends. </p> <p>The cruel hilarity of all these pheremones and no shared language. </p> <p>My mum's friend telling me it was the best day of her life. And she's had her own wedding.</p> <p>Having to choose Bruno out of a line up while blindfolded, using only their knees. And getting it right.</p> <p>Feeling up the legs of a selection of men. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/27/by_the_way~2530415/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-27:/2007/06/27/the_grindstone_take_it_or_leave_it~2528199/ZoeandBruno2007-06-27T09:43:31+02:002007-06-27T09:43:31+02:00 <p>After all the festivities, I'm back at work for two days before flitting off again to recreate the celebratory magic in London. </p> <p>I have two weeks worth of emails to read, and two weeks of blogs to catch up on. </p> <p>Which will take priority? Who can say. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/27/the_grindstone_take_it_or_leave_it~2528199/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-17:/2007/06/17/help~2469888/ZoeandBruno2007-06-17T18:23:35+02:002007-06-17T18:23:35+02:00 <p>What songs would you want to dance to after a few glasses of bubbley at a wedding?</p> <p>The cheesier the better. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/17/help~2469888/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-13:/2007/06/13/i_m_urban_issit~2448144/ZoeandBruno2007-06-13T21:07:28+02:002007-06-13T21:07:28+02:00 <p>On this blog I whinge about The Swiss quite a lot. However, it's important to note that The Swiss I whinge about are the surburban, middle class Swiss (of which there are many). However, there is a whole other world of Swiss; a world of isolated villages where the men are farmers who make huge wheels of cheese by hand and where the village got its first television twenty years ago (such as one particular village which will not be mentioned here). </p> <p>This evening found us in just such a village, as we went to meet a chap that was interested in buying our car. As Bruno went off for the test drive, I made my way into the only cafe/bar/restaurant in the town. It was like "Deliverance" but with Swiss standards of hygiene. This was probably the only time a Young Foreign Woman had come into the place on her own. Ever.</p> <p>Fifteen minutes later Bruno comes from a successful test drive, to find me seated at the <em>Stammtisch</em>*, someone has paid for my coffee, and I have been offered a job by the owner. Various customers pat Bruno on the back, congratulate him on the upcoming wedding, and tell him what a lucky man he is. </p> <p>I am a Swiss-Redneck Winner!</p> <p>* These establishments always have a <em>Stammtisch</em>, which is reserved for regulars. It takes more or less a lifetime to become a regular, and you may well have inherited the position from your father or even your grandfather. The <em>Stammtisch</em> is official, with a large pewter ashtray in the middle to mark it out. Sitting at the <em>Stammtisch</em> if you are not a <em>Stammgast</em> is the social equivalent of going through to the back and sitting in their living room. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/13/i_m_urban_issit~2448144/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-10:/2007/06/10/why_i_m_marrying_bruno~2429222/ZoeandBruno2007-06-10T21:15:26+02:002007-06-10T21:15:26+02:00 <p>Because when I'm in the bath reading my book and having a relax, he brings me a gin and tonic without me even asking.</p> <p>The man just <em>knows</em>. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/10/why_i_m_marrying_bruno~2429222/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-05:/2007/06/05/other_brides~2397309/ZoeandBruno2007-06-05T10:05:47+02:002007-06-05T10:05:47+02:00 <p>...drink shots of tequila and go and see the Chippendales before their wedding. I drink cocktails and G&Ts and go to see an all male ballet which turns out to have women in it. </p> <p>Bride to be: "Oh I'm having such a great time at the all male ballet with women in it! This is the best night I've had in ages! This is just the bees knees! I'm having such a wonderful time, it's almost like that feeling you get when you take codeine!"*</p> <p>Wonderful friend who organised it all: "That'd be the codeine tablets you took in the restaurant. The ones you downed with Gin." </p> <p>Btb: "Oh. Yeah. Still good though."</p> <p>*I'm not a drug addict. They let you take codeine if you've got arthritis. Although they probably wouldn't if they read this. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/05/other_brides~2397309/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-06-04:/2007/06/04/please_look_happy_at_my_wedding~2392024/ZoeandBruno2007-06-04T12:39:40+02:002007-06-04T12:40:57+02:00 <p>Last night I dreamt that our wedding was a complete washout. First we were in some awful community hall and it was so boring that the guests all started to drift out to a bar which was upstairs. Eventually I was left sitting in my wedding dress surrounded by empty tables, with only my mother who had loyally stayed to share my humiliation. </p> <p>Having moved to a restaurant, we then found our booking was screwed up, and instead of a room we were all shoved in the corner of a really busy dining hall with no service and no dessert. People started drifting off again and saying their goodbyes in that slightly embarrassed way that one does when one is leaving early because the party has been a failure. </p> <p>I'm a bit worried now. If you are a guest at my wedding, please pretend to have a good time. Please. Bring a tambourine or something. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/06/04/please_look_happy_at_my_wedding~2392024/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-05-15:/2007/05/15/sozzled~2276780/ZoeandBruno2007-05-15T20:40:03+02:002007-05-16T08:04:47+02:00 <p>At the weekend we realised that we have completely neglected to plan our wedding which is in FIVE WEEKS. So tonight we got started. With a wine tasting. It's really important to get this right. honestly. </p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1586922" title="wine tasting"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/922/1586922_59d49f27f6_m.jpg" alt="wine tasting" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a><br> Bruno looks like a right beverly hillbilly here, but he just got back from his manly job, and we got right down to the drinking. Doesn't explain the fringe though. </p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1586923" title="random 192"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/923/1586923_23d964f279_m.jpg" alt="random 192" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a><br> Look! We're even writing stuff down and generally acting like Jilly Goolden. We're so classy. Despite the dungarees.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/05/15/sozzled~2276780/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-05-14:/2007/05/14/yeah_and_take_your_racist_posters_with_y~2266662/ZoeandBruno2007-05-14T10:59:51+02:002007-05-14T17:48:59+02:00 <p>The racist, xenophobic right wing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swiss_People%27s_Party">SVP</a> have lost their seat in the Luzern local elections. Even though the SVP bloke was running TWICE as an SVP candidate and an independent. Although this was only a tiny election, the SVP aren't some tiny group of fanatics. They are currently THE most powerful party in Switzerland. Everybody stop thinking about whether Brown will revert to an Old Labour style of government for a second, and celebrate the good riddance (at least from my town) of the party that brought us this:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1581519" title="SVP pass"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/519/1581519_cffe854884_m.jpg" alt="SVP pass" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a><br> (Mass citizenship? NO!)</p> <p>and this:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1581576" title="SVP immigrants"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/576/1581576_02c3a6918d_m.gif" alt="SVP immigrants" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a><br> Naturalisation made easy? NO!<br> (This is what immigrants look like don't you know)</p> <p><em>Edit: I've just noticed this poster isn't from them, it's from the Swiss neo Nazis. I'm going to leave it though, as the fact it took me several hours to notice because its message is indistinguishable from the one above it speaks volumes.</p> <p>Another Edit: Now I think I should take this out as I'm misrepresenting them or whatever. Except I'm not.<br> </em></p> <p>and this:</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1581577" title="schengen"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/577/1581577_d2382dffd9_m.jpg" alt="schengen" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a><br> (Lose our safety? Lose our jobs? NO!)<br> These poor people are grappling with the concept that people might get into Switzerland without a visa.</p> <p>Maybe the subtle imagery went over voters' heads.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/05/14/yeah_and_take_your_racist_posters_with_y~2266662/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-05-07:/2007/05/07/title~2229048/ZoeandBruno2007-05-07T21:31:25+02:002007-05-07T21:31:55+02:00 <p>**According to Polycell (the people who make polyfiller).</p> <p>Anyway, in case my last post gave you the mistaken impression that I am less than motivated about our wonderful house. Here are some pictures to cheer us all up. And to prove to my parents that I'm working too, because they keep phoning me to tell me that Bruno should have a rest after working so hard. </p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1551927" title="Put the kettle on love"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/927/1551927_2c18d4d920_m.jpg" alt="Put the kettle on love" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a></p> <p>Bruno being manly. He deserves a rest.</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1551937" title="Fashion"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/937/1551937_f6a83230cf_m.jpg" alt="Fashion" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a></p> <p>I'm not being a telly tubby. I'm insulating. Insulation itches. It's called health and safety.</p> <p> <a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1551938" title="The joy of a job well done"><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/938/1551938_0190dbc724_m.jpg" alt="The joy of a job well done" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a></p> <p>Am I working? Or am I doing a little dance? Who can say.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/05/07/title~2229048/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-05-07:/2007/05/07/polyfiller_don_t_knock_it~2225139/ZoeandBruno2007-05-07T11:14:56+02:002007-05-07T15:21:48+02:00 <p>I wonder what it says about my personality that products and branding regularly form a focus for my homesickness. Aside from the obvious whining about not getting marmite in the supermarkets type thing, I see the Swiss failure to recognise staple brand names as indicative of their alien culture. I get a stab of isolation every time I have to explain to Bruno what something is. </p> <p>You can imagine the surprise on both our parts when I burst into tears yesterday at having to explain to Bruno what Polyfiller is. I mean, come off it, my mother knows what Polyfiller is. In England we use the word as a verb. Bruno probably knows what Polyfiller is, but he probably calls it Multieinfüllenmittel or something. Either way, the point is that it's exhausting to always have to try to explain something that should be really simple. And the renovation of the house has not made this easier. Let's just say that my whirlwind learning curve of Swiss German in the last few years has not involved much DIY vocabulary. </p> <p>How I wanted the conversation to go:</p> <p>"Hey Bruno, you know those gaps between the roofing tiles, we could Polyfill them."*</p> <p>"OK. I'll pick some up from the DIY shop."</p> <p>How it went:</p> <p>"Hey Bruno, you know those gaps between the roofing tiles, we could Polyfill them."</p> <p>"What's Polyfiller?"</p> <p>"Well it's like this stuff that somes in a syringe, and you sort of, what's the word for inject?, you sort of push it into the gap and.." (mimes holding a giant syringe).</p> <p>"um"</p> <p>Tears.</p> <p>The trouble is, it's all like this. Don't get me wrong, the house is amazing cool, and it's fun renovating it, but, get ready for the blog worthy honesty... not as fun as it would be in England. Because it all takes a bit more effort, and invariably ends up like this:</p> <p>"So Zoe, I though we'd first pull through the Bleurgh Bleurgh Bleugh piping through the Bleurgh Bleurgh and then attach the electricity to some unpronouncable probably unearthed bit of the house, and then Bleurgh Bleurgh Bleurgh."</p> <p>"What? What's a Bleurgh?"</p> <p>"A Bleurgh. You know, a Bleurgh."</p> <p>"I don't know what that is. What you just said means nothing to me."</p> <p>"Well it's probably all a bit difficult for you to understand. After all, I am a carpenter."</p> <p>"Not the CONCEPT you git! The word! I suppose I should just go home and make sure there's a hot dinner on the table for you! (Long lecture (not the first) on how this makes Bruno a mysogynist, no less at fault for being a product of this backward Swiss society), and do you really rate my intelligence so low, and on the threshold of our wedding, and"</p> <p>Tears.</p> <p>And so the house is a funny thing. I love it, and spend hours picturing where my future kids' bedrooms are going to be. But it's also panic making. Because it's sometimes exhausting to live here, and homesickness is exhausting, I can't handle the idea that I would live here forever. I can't handle the idea that I'd never live in London again, or that I'd leave it too long to go back, and be an outsider. I might live here forever, but it won't be because I planned it now. What I can handle is the short term. It's easy to be here till the end of the year. It makes sense to hang around at least until the MA is done. At some point it'll probably make sense to wait until my kids have finished the next bit of school. and so on. </p> <p>But a house, well that's a bit in your face. I know that we didn't just buy a house in order to sell it. I know that we're not going to lovingly renovate it for the next two years just to move out. This is a long term thing. And it's not in London. And don't mention house prices. </p> <p>Although we do have two front doors.</p> <p>And soon we'll have a roof with no leaks. It's not all bad.</p> <p>*To all DIY experts, Yes I know I know, I've thought about it since and I realise plaster of Paris is not waterproof and so not appropriate to stopping drips in the roof. That's not the point.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/05/07/polyfiller_don_t_knock_it~2225139/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-04-30:/2007/04/30/how_to_laugh_without_weeing~2185828/ZoeandBruno2007-04-30T15:42:08+02:002007-04-30T15:42:08+02:00 <p>Dear Lady walking back from the supermarket, </p> <p>It is no longer the case that women of a certain age are condemned to a blue rinse and cardigans. I applaud the fact that you have chosen to demonstrate your youthful heart through your choice of fashion. </p> <p>Far be it from me to suggest that your calf length leggins and wedge heels would be more suited to your granddaughter. However, might I respectfully suggest that when said leggins tell the world about your need for the security of tena lady, you are not presenting the hoped for image.</p> <p>All the best.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/04/30/how_to_laugh_without_weeing~2185828/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-04-26:/2007/04/26/swiss_snogging~2163483/ZoeandBruno2007-04-26T10:12:44+02:002007-05-15T08:14:09+02:00 <p>Yesterday for my birthday all the people at work, literally all of them, have been giving me three kisses (it's a Swiss thing) to congratulate me. Until this year I've had handshakes. </p> <p>Unless you know about the Swiss, I can't impress on you how big a deal this is. In the three years I've been here, most of the physical displays of affection that I've received from aquaintances have happened today. I have only just started giving Bruno's mum three kisses. I still shake his dad's hand. </p> <p>If I get any more assimilated I'm going to have to start cleaning my windows and being scared of immigrants. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/04/26/swiss_snogging~2163483/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-04-23:/2007/04/23/how_to_win_friends_and_alienate_people~2143680/ZoeandBruno2007-04-23T07:43:06+02:002007-04-23T07:43:06+02:00 <p>Bruno's been hot on the trail of ingratiation into our new street:</p> <p>While borrowing a ladder from the painter and decorator down the road:<br> "<em>So do you still use this at your age</em>?"</p> <p>While at a drinks thing for Franziska and Robert next door, on being introduced to Robert's first wife (as if the situation wasn't already a minefield of etiquette):<br> "<em>Hi I'm Bruno. Are you Franziska's mother</em>?" </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/04/23/how_to_win_friends_and_alienate_people~2143680/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-04-11:/2007/04/11/george_orwell_looked_inside_my_brain~2070189/ZoeandBruno2007-04-11T10:03:39+02:002007-04-11T10:04:08+02:00 <p>I have been doing more Quaker reading recently, which coupled with spending more than four hours in a Catholic church with my grandmother over Easter (latin, choir singing requiems, incense - you got your money's worth), has plunged me back into theological meltdown over the impending sign up. </p> <p>However, I have told myself that this is not to happen, and am a woman of my word, so have suitably repressed all thoughts of higher nature to the point that late last night my brain did this:</p> <p>When I was little, I read or heard somewhere that when you went to hell, the devil would know what your worst fears were, and that's what would happen there. In response, I would lie in bed at night struggling not to let any phobia/fear type thoughts into my head. The logic was that if I didn't think about them, the devil wouldn't know what they were, and when I got to hell, I'd just say, "yeah, eating cake, that really freaks me out. terrified. ooh, get those fondant fancies away, no, no." </p> <p>Back to the present, and hell not being a big part of Quaker thinking, nor Catholic thinking since John Paul's reassessment of the matter, I relived the magic of childhood by wondering if the same technique would work if I was taken to Guantanemo Bay. I know, don't ask. Fairly safe in the knowledge that George W. couldn't read my thoughts, I suddenly remembered having once written in my blog about my now-not-to-be-mentioned phobia. </p> <p>This morning I'm still slightly having to resist going back and deleting anything that doesn't involve brown paper packaging wrapped up with string. </p> <p>(<em>possible tip for future Catholic happiness: next Easter, don't go to the Good Friday sombre mass to look at Jesus on the cross under a cloth because of MY SINS, show your face for Saturday Vigils with candle waving where he's still in a bad way because of MY SINS, and then miss the happy Easter Sunday mass where everyone's thrilled to bits because he got up again</em>). </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/04/11/george_orwell_looked_inside_my_brain~2070189/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-04-04:/2007/04/04/the_mind_of_a_terrorist~2032000/ZoeandBruno2007-04-04T13:54:27+02:002007-04-04T13:54:27+02:00 <p>How to get through security at Heathrow:</p> <p>Step one: Have a glorious weekend in London. Don't go to the greek tutorial you came for, instead go to Primark and do your best to clean them out of all their shoddy but affordable stock.</p> <p>Step two: Sit on tiny suitcase to shut. At Heathrow, become indignant at suggestion that you will either have to put your handbag into your suitcase or check the suitcase in. Fail to pursuade security staff that a handbag doesn't count as one piece of hand luggage.</p> <p>Step three: Open suitcase. Remove clothes.</p> <p>Step four: Insert handbag.</p> <p>Step five: Put on all the clothes complete with tags, including the t-shirts and two jumpers that you bought for Bruno.</p> <p>Step six: Waddle through the metal detector.</p> <p>Step seven: Remove excess clothing and restore packing to original arrangement.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/04/04/the_mind_of_a_terrorist~2032000/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-03-26:/2007/03/26/title~1980616/ZoeandBruno2007-03-26T19:58:21+02:002007-03-27T07:44:53+02:00 <p>And here we are again with another winning example of "How to Make A Sale". Swiss Style. Remember, here in Switzerland you can't just fail your GCSEs and get a Saturday job. Here, you have to go to sales assistant school for several years. This is what you learn:</p> <p>Today in Zürich, I made my way to Manor, a department store not unlike John Lewis. Looking for an air mattress in case of occasional guests, I made my first mistake, and foolishly went to the bed and bedding dept. Luckily I found two friendly ladies to help. </p> <p>"Excuse me, I'm looking for an air mattress..."</p> <p>Lady folding pillow case: "No. We don't have them. (To her folding friend) "blow up mattress? She's looking for an air mattress."</p> <p>Friend: "No. (<em>This was that special smirking no, which involves breathing out a laugh just before the 'N'</em>). We don't sell them."</p> <p>"But I phoned earlier today, and a woman told me that you have them in stock." <em>In fact, she even took me uneccessarily through all the different measurements, equating their size to a normal bed. Point is, I knew they had them.</em></p> <p>There now followed several minutes of them insisting that I was mistaken, if not lying, and demanding to know the name and department of this so called woman I had spoken to. </p> <p>Friend: "No. We don't sell them. IF, I repeat, IF, we have them, (sic) they'll be in Sports. But we don't have them."</p> <p>At this point the two break to share an undisguised and unsubtle laugh at my absolute foolishness in thinking that one of the largest department stores in Switzerland may have the product which I had phoned ahead to confirm they had in stock.</p> <p>At this point Pillow lady starts suggesting some of their competitors who may stock blow up mattresses.</p> <p>"I'll just try the Sports section first then. Thanks so much for your help."</p> <p>And so off I go, wandering on the way over to the householdy bit, as we're thinking of having our wedding list here. As I pick up a special offer wok, the friend <em>follows</em> me over. </p> <p>"They don't have them here either. We don't sell blow up mattresses."</p> <p>"I know. I'm just looking around." </p> <p>She waits.</p> <p>"Are you suggesting that I should leave the premises?"</p> <p>At this she does an about turn and stomps off without another word. </p> <p>Luckily, I made it safely to what turned out to be a HUGE range of air mattresses, and went over to happily complete my purchase. It seemed the pillow ladies did not deign to work the tills, so I had high hopes. However, my second mistake had apparently been to pick up some delicate papery butterfly ornaments while on my unauthorised rampage through household wares.</p> <p>"Hello. Do you have a bit of tissue paper or anything to wrap these up in?"</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"Nothing? Anything just to protect them a bit?"</p> <p>"No. What, like wrapping paper? No. Hans, do we have wrapping paper? No."</p> <p>"Well, could you give me a few little plastic bags and I'll wrap them myself..."</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"No? You have no plastic bags?"</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"You have no paper and no plastic bags, nothing at all in which to put my goods."</p> <p>"No." Puts the mattress in a plastic bag. </p> <p>"Like that bag; could I have another one of those?"</p> <p>"What, a plastic bag?" Half heartedly chucks a bag at me. (I can only assume it was half hearted, what with the nature of a plastic bag blowing about as it lands).</p> <p>And so I left the shop, grateful that security didn't take my elbow to escort me out. </p> <p>Customer service - invented in Switzerland. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/03/26/title~1980616/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-03-22:/2007/03/22/snake_in_the_class~1951949/ZoeandBruno2007-03-22T10:29:57+01:002007-03-22T10:29:57+01:00 <p>* I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. </p> <p>On Wednesday evenings I go to a German Grammar class in Zürich with my friend Laura. Anyone who knows Swiss German, will also know that it leaves you woefully unequipped to actually write anything in actual, proper German. </p> <p>The class has been running for a few months now, and they're quite a nice bunch, if a bit special. Most have quite good Swiss german, and we get along fine, often splitting up to have converations with those who share our mother tongue. This is great for me and Laura as the only English speakers there, as our approach to adult learning is disturbingly close to our approach to childhood learning, and involves much note writing and sly chats (like pig latin but without the effort). </p> <p>Yesterday we had a new teacher, who asked us to go round and introduce ourselves. Finally we got round to the slightly stuck up one who has only talked to us once, in German, to announce that she's a nobel prize winning physics genuis or something, and a few times to interrupt our German conversations with the South Amerian lot to speak to them in considerably better Spanish than ours. You wouldn't really call us bosom buddies, but hey, we don't know her. </p> <p>"Hello new teacher, my name's *** and I'm a scientific genius. I'm from England."</p> <p>Laura and Zoe: .....</p> <p>This girl has NEVER spoken to us, or anyone else, in English. I thought she was English at the beginning because of her accent, and asked her where she came from, but I don't remember the reply. I do remember that the reply wasn't England. </p> <p>I'm really not sure why, but for some reason this has made us really angry. First there was the panic of running over everything we might have said to each other in the past, thinking that we were not being understood. This led us to equate her ommission with a lie. We feel like she conned us. </p> <p>Is this normal? Or is this a twisted perspective that you get only if you live abroad? Are we going to turn into one of those awful ex-pat types who live in Zug and only talk to other English people?</p> <p>It is clearly NOT because yesterday the fit Italian who we have been wooing with after-class coffees sat next to her, huddled together over a shared text book. Don't be ridiculous. Are you suggesting that just by placing us in a classroom setting, we have instantly regressed to the mindset of teenagers? You better not be, or I'll tell Laura what you said about her haircut last week behind her back. And that bracelet makes you look fat, anyway. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/03/22/snake_in_the_class~1951949/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-03-14:/2007/03/14/and_relax~1901182/ZoeandBruno2007-03-14T09:05:46+01:002007-03-14T09:05:46+01:00 <p>- We're signing on the house tomorrow. The deposit is in place, the mortgage is organised.<br> - My parents came over and fully approved the flat that I'd found for them.<br> - My German is good enough to find out how to get planning permission to renovate the windows on a listed building.<br> - I've handed in my rubbish (but finished!) essay.<br> - I've handed in my Greek translation.<br> - It turns out you <em>can</em> just pop down and get baptised. The wedding is go, and my place as grandchild numero uno is secured. As my sister said, "none of us are ever going to be able to beat that." Am managing to keep internal theological anxieties at bay.<br> - Yesterday I had time to have a bath and wash my hair.</p> <p>As a reward I bought myself some nifty shoes and some vintage crochet tights. And tomorrow as an even bigger reward we're going to see <strong>THE FLYING PICKETS</strong>!</p> <p>Goodbye stress, hello a cappella fun!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/03/14/and_relax~1901182/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-03-05:/2007/03/05/now~1849096/ZoeandBruno2007-03-05T09:26:06+01:002007-03-05T09:27:16+01:00 <p>...we might have the house again. But it's not certain. Blogging will resume when I've had a good night's sleep. </p> <p>Which may be after Wednesday, when we have to meet with the priest to convince him to let Bruno marry a heathen. Good times. Still trying to tell my grandmother that he's not going to offer for me to "just pop down and get christened" once he realises that I come from a good Catholic family. Although if you're Catholic here, they slap another hundred quid or so on your tax bill, so maybe he will. </p> <p>I was all very relaxed about it and explained to Bruno (and my grandmother), that the Church had been letting you marry non catholics for decades, but then I spoke to the local priest, and discovered that something like that had never happened in Village Bruno. He had to go and look up the rules in some vatican guide book. </p> <p>Next post:</p> <p>either "Zoe and Bruno get married in Registry office. Shunned by Village Bruno."</p> <p>or "A lengthy and self-absorbed treatise on the moral implications of accepting baptism into a Church with which you have fundamental theological differences."</p> <p>or "Why I am the favourite grandchild."</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/03/05/now~1849096/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-02-26:/2007/02/26/wound_like_a_spring~1806392/ZoeandBruno2007-02-26T08:53:14+01:002007-02-26T08:53:14+01:00 <p>We may not have the house. Turns out there was some sort of mistake with the offers. We find out tomorrow. We have been anxious enough this weekend to think that trying to cost out the budget for our wedding was a relaxing break from thinking about the house. </p> <p>Everyone start crossing fingers now.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/02/26/wound_like_a_spring~1806392/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-02-21:/2007/02/21/how_to_become_a_property_mogul~1778486/ZoeandBruno2007-02-21T11:43:15+01:002007-02-21T11:43:15+01:00 <p>Posts have been a bit slack lately. Now you'll know why. </p> <p><strong>22nd January:</strong> "Hey Bruno, look at this house for sale in the middle of Luzern. We could nearly afford a mortgage on that. Why don't we just have a look? Not to buy of course, just to see what we'd get for our money. It must be nearly falling down for that price."</p> <p><strong>21st February</strong>: "Well we'd like to accept your offer suckers! Hope the missing window panes don't cause too much of a draft while you find out about installing any sort of central heating system."</p> <p>I believe that we now have what would be described in prime time property programmes as "a project". Look forward to thrilling posts about trying to navigate the Swiss beaurocratic system and building/renovation firms in German. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/02/21/how_to_become_a_property_mogul~1778486/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-02-08:/2007/02/08/mind_over_matter~1702050/ZoeandBruno2007-02-08T09:35:27+01:002007-02-08T09:35:27+01:00 <p>Yesterday the Swiss did a nationwide testing of the nuclear alarms that would sound had we just minutes to live. Less of a WWII air raid sound, this was really quite musical, more like a spooky ice cream van. No one told me this was going to happen.</p> <p>At one thirty on the dot came the mournful wail. Very loudly. No one in my office reacted. At all. I got up and looked out the window. No clues as to what might be causing the noise, or which direction it might be coming from. </p> <p>Still no sign of life from the Swiss work colleagues. </p> <p>I made my way to the next office, where another Swiss colleague continued to work, oblivious. </p> <p>Who'd have thought that one of the most difficult questions to say out loud would be:</p> <p>"<em>Can you hear that too? Or is it in my head?</em>" </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/02/08/mind_over_matter~1702050/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-01-16:/2007/01/16/how_to_learn_german_in_switzerland~1561196/ZoeandBruno2007-01-16T13:20:10+01:002007-01-16T13:20:10+01:00 <p>...the trick is, just take it one word at a time. Never explain. Just repeat it incredulously until they understand. They probably already do understand. They're just pissing you about. Like this:</p> <p>FedEx lady: Here for the package, thank.. what the hell's this?! This is a BLEURGHBLEURGH form!! You can't send a package with this you bloody FOOL! You need a proformarechnung.</p> <p>dumb foreigner: Aha, yes. a proformarechnung. That's not the form I just filled in then and stuck on the front? No. [Shuffles papers around]. This one? this says FedEx on it.</p> <p>FedEx: a PROFORMARECHNUNG!!! [apopleptic with rage] PROFORMARECHNUNG!! PROFORMARECHNUNG!!</p> <p>df: ....</p> <p>FedEx: PROFORMARECHNUNG PROFORMARECHNUNG!! Write one out on your computer!! PROFORMARECHNUNG!! I can't leave with THIS!! I need a </p> <p>df: Proformarechnung? so I just need to write...</p> <p>FedEX: PROFORMARECHNUNG!! OH MY GOD!!! [adopt style of talking to child] THE ABSENDERSDRESSE and the INHALTZOLLWERT and the EMPÄNGERADRESSE OH MY GOD!! I'M GOING TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK! NOTHING THIS SURREALLY INEFFICIENT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!! I MAY HAVE TO LOOK AT MY WATCH A FEW MORE TIMES!!! AND IT MUST BE IN ENGLISH! CAN YOU MANAGE THAT YOU HALFWIT!!! I HAVE TO DEAL WITH ENGLISH FORMS ALL THE TIME. I'M FEDEX! </p> <p>DF: what's proformarechnung in English then? </p> <p>FedEx: OH MY GOD! PROFORMARECHNUNG! PROFORMARECHNUNG!</p> <p>DF: Phew. well here it is. Guess I've learnt what a proformarechnung is then. pretty much a copy of everything I already wrote on the other form. Great. thanks for your patience in a difficult situation.</p> <p>FedEx: THREE!! I NEED THREE! SIGN IT!!! SIGN ALL THREE YOU ABSOLUTE AMOEBA!! I'VE BEEN HERE TWO MINUTES ALREADY ACCORDING TO MY WATCH!!!</p> <p>DF: Right then. Sorry. Ever so sorry. Well I'll know for next time! Ha ha! [Weak smile]</p> <p>FedEx: FUME.</p> <p>DF: Well! You'd thought she could have helped me out a bit. Hang on, <em>pro forma</em>...and rechnung means invoice. pro forma invoice? But I know what that is... </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/01/16/how_to_learn_german_in_switzerland~1561196/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-01-15:/2007/01/15/switzerland_rocks~1556793/ZoeandBruno2007-01-15T11:39:34+01:002007-05-15T12:28:21+02:00 <p>Thanks everybody for sending me lots and lots of lovely and heartwarming emails in response to my homesickness rant. Don't worry, I wasn't planning to hurl myself off the Matterhorn anytime soon. Although the odd email did make me a bit tearful. This was no help AT ALL in the run up to Bruno saying out of the blue, "The wedding will be sad for you as well as happy, won't it." Good one.</p> <p>In future please send emails telling me to "Snap bloody well out of it".</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/01/15/switzerland_rocks~1556793/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-01-08:/2007/01/08/title~1528214/ZoeandBruno2007-01-08T09:51:26+01:002007-01-08T12:01:29+01:00 <p>Ever since I started this blog, or at least since it became a less of news home from my trip, and more a boring record of my Swiss life, I've wanted to write about homesickness. I never manage it however, sometimes even starting something then deleting it in disgust. There are several reasons for this. </p> <p>Firstly, in a world full of refugees and displaced peoples, who am I to start whinging on about homesickness? In 2006, I went back to England five times. All in all I was there for over a month. </p> <p>And then there's the sheer trite way of writing about it. I'm not eloquent enough to describe the punch-in-the-stomach shock when you periodically realise where you are, and the mundane material things are meaningless. I have marmite in my fridge, I get BBC one and two, they have <em>The Times </em>in the newsagents. </p> <p>And yet I do get homesick, it's real, and it's all the time. Once, as I was planning my (should have been) six month trip to Davos, I was talking to a friend about why I was going. "I'm very likely going to live in London all my life." I said. "I want to live in London all my life. My children will grow up and be Londoners. I'm just going away for six months so I can experience something else and enjoy coming back."</p> <p>And so I get homesick about ridiculous stuff like pavements laid with paving slabs (not boring concrete), but it's actually about the ever increasing probability that I will never live in England again. I will know about what's going on, because I'll watch BBC and read the Times, but I won't be part of it, I'll be a tourist. Meanwhile, I'll always be a tourist here. I will never understand <em>The Swiss </em>the way they understand each other. My children will be Swiss. Despite all the books I will read on bilingual parenting, they will have a mother tongue different to my own. </p> <p>And what if I can't then? What if the call of a chaotic public transport system and fruitcake house prices are more than I can resist? Then I give all of this to Bruno. Nothing that I've just written would not be true if the situation were reversed. And how would I compensate him for that?</p> <p>Do other people get used to this? Do people look back after twenty years and say, "I chose this."? Watch this space.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/01/08/title~1528214/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk,2007-01-04:/2007/01/04/insomnia_wasn_t_that_a_hit_in_the_90s~1512245/ZoeandBruno2007-01-04T09:21:30+01:002007-01-04T09:21:30+01:00 <p>I am a big fan of my bed. And sleep. Getting up late to the end of a sunshine morning does not fill me with regret for a missed opportunity, and at weekends I leave my daily alarm set, for the sheer joy of knowing I can go back to sleep for several more hours (Bruno is less joyful about this technique). </p> <p>I was told once by an ex boyfreind that one night, as he thought less of hushabye mountain and more of <em>amoure</em>, that I recovered my senses just enough to cry "Respect The Sleep!" before slipping back into unconsciousness. </p> <p>Uninterrupted by an alarm clock or the need for a semblance of a life, I will sleep for over twelve hours a night, every night. So fond am I of this state, that the only way I can get up while it's still dark during the week, is to promise myself that I will get straight back into bed as soon as I get home. I get up five minutes earlier than I need to, just so that I can get an extra five magic minutes back in bed between the shower and breakfast. No word of a lie, I''ve actually discovered that as I get back into bed for these five minutes, I say out loud, something along the lines of, "Yeeaaahh, get in there my son!". Such is my joy.</p> <p>It's only just hitting nine o'clock, and I've been at work for a hour, so right now I still wouldn't reject the back to bed idea out of hand, but the truth is, I'm not going to tuck myself up in bed when I get home. I'll probably watch some crap on Swiss telly until about midnight when I fall into a semi sleep on the sofa, and then six hours later the whole fiasco will start again. </p> <p>I've always wanted to be one of those over achievers who've read every book ever written and speaks several languages and parties till dawn before going straight to a high powered job followed by the kind of excercise that leads to a taught belly, before cooking a gourmet meal to enjoy with a nice glass of wine. I think the penny is dropping as to why this remains an elusive dream. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://zoeandbruno.blog.co.uk/2007/01/04/insomnia_wasn_t_that_a_hit_in_the_90s~1512245/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>