Tschüssli!

Switzerland, it’s been a pleasure. I’ve survived. 7 months I’ve lived here now and considered myself very much an objective observer of the culture of cheese, cheese fondue and chocolate.

Things I won’t miss about Switzerland…

Fashion: what fashion?

The Prices (especially food): A single zucchini costs 4CHF. Enough said. Or 12.- CHF (about £9) for the equivalent of a tesco value chicken. I’d rather pay less for Findus lasagne and know I was getting horsemeat…

Shop opening times: Sundays are dead to the world. The Swiss officially go into hibernation. You have no food? Not even biscuits? Tough. Sunday is a day of rest. The same goes for aaaaall Bank Holidays / New Years Eve/ New Years Day / random ‘national feast days’ – you get the idea. For instance Zurich; one of the significant business cities on the globe. But Wednesday 1^st August 2012 (National Swiss Day) it is Dead. To. The. World.

Smileys: I’m somewhat of a grammatical snob. I very much associate smileys in texts with my 14-year-old self texting.. (‘wot u up 2?’ Cringe.) BUT I was emailing the Head of HR at a very prestigious publishing house in Zurich, negotiating a formal job interview… Imagine my absolute perplexity when an email contained “no problem :)” Smilies are absolutely 100% acceptable in Switzerland.

Things that I think are rather nice:

Actual ‘lunches’ at lunchtime: You’d be in the definite minority if you stay at your desk devouring your delights during lunch rather than head out to a restaurant. Lunchtime for the Swiss is a big deal. I must say I rather like the idea of actually sitting down for a meal with the colleagues rather than dropping bits of sandwich on my laptop.

Language aspect: Ah yes the Brits abroad… There still seems to be the assumption that everyone else should speak English. But in Switzerland I feel a fool being only able to speak 2 languages!

Noteworthy but bizarre Swiss Observations

Crossing the road: A big deal for me as I am a self professed ‘car hurler’ – over the years, when crossing the road, I have amassed the great skill of assessing the distance between a passing car and myself so that I can begin crossing when it hasn’t entirely passed. Swiss drivers simply do not comprehend this. They will perform a full emergency stop and let you cross. But wag their fingers at you… Thank you kindly but it’s fine! I’ve judged the space and speed between you and the car heading in the opposite direction and I’m more than happy to cross after you’ve passed me!

Shopping: There I am at the till, ready to collect my plastic bags that I will obviously then recycle as bin liners. But everyone else is whacking out their own ‘eco friendly’ tote bags! Of course this is also an option in the UK, but here I’m not offered a single plastic bag! So what happens if I need to do my food-shopping straight from work? Do I have to take my shopping bags to work?

I'm still alive..

Just in case anyone reads this little bloggety blog on a regular occurrence, fear not, I haven't died / stopped writing / gone into hibernation. I am in fact excessively busy! I have moved myself from Switzerland back to the UK, am house hunting and have started a new internship...

...and Crikey O'Reilly I am enjoying it! It's in advertising and actually something that I see myself doing and getting a kick from! The people are genuinely fun and friendly and the work interesting. Boom. Winner.

Oh and in other news? When I was interning in Zurich I tested and reviewed a car for a the magazine I was working at. Well look at that. It got published! #smugasabug

Life is a Highway

Monday morning 11.30am. We’d just had our weekly editorial meeting and everyone had rushed back to their various articles / beauty reviews / fashion collaborations. I had met the deadlines that I had been set and was waiting to hear from my editor what format he wanted me to write the next article in, so couldn’t really start anything. My ever so brief moment of pondering on what to do was quickly forgotten, when said editor questions: “Lisa is your afternoon today really busy?” Um no. “Ok, could you pick up the car for me?” Now before you label me the magazine minion / Meryl Streep’s bitch in The Devil Wears Prada, I think it’s important to point out, that in every issue of the magazine someone test drives a car and reviews it, a job I was secretly hoping to get, but that doesn’t go to the interns. So obviously I was being sent to fetch this car.

An hours train journey later I was at the Toyota dealership sat in a sparkling brand new Toyota Yaris Hybrid. Easy. Not so much. The car had so many functions and features I barely knew where to look. But it was only then that the situation became clear in my naïve mind… Picture little Lisa: proud owner of a British driving licence for 3-and-a-bit years. I drive a manual, 52 reg VW Polo (class of 2002) on the deserted country lanes of the Cotswolds. Here I was in a so-new-it-still-smelt-new fully automatic Hybrid and being told to just drive into Zurich; i.e. motorway AND inner city driving all on the right hand side of the road. Un-ideal at the best of times.

I just figured that the more I thought about it, the more I would freak out, so I may as well just drive and drive I did! Whilst I’ll spare you all the technical jargon, it was a surprisingly smooth drive and the male satnav voice was very friendly…I fo sho trust this guy!

Apart from the odd panic here and there, I made it back to the office in one piece. I was SO relieved to arrive at my designated bay in the multi-storey, that I pretty much just left the car and got out… to probably the worst parking ever committed. I definitely couldn’t leave the car like this. Sadly, getting back into the car, I couldn’t turn it back on. I kid you not. I pressed the button, put it from ‘Parking’ into ‘Natural’ into ‘Driving’ and back into ‘Natural’ mode. Nothing. For about 15 minutes this continued. I even read the owner’s manual!! Then I experienced the enlightenment when I lifted my foot off the pedal and the car moved...it had been on the whole time!! Hybrid = silent engine. Simple.

By now I am drained of all energy and emotion. I storm back into the office, banged the keys onto my editor’s desk and snarl “What a load of hybrid @!?$” His reply? “I look forward to reading the article.”

I guess I got the job.

Taking out the trash

I now live in a flat. I have a job. I do the 9-5 (...or 10-6 or 9-6) I commute daily and I read my Kindle on the train. So far so good. I send out emails from my work outlook, attend board meetings, pitch topics to my colleagues and go to post-work drinks. Oh and I have to do the grocery shopping. But realistically, I'm still Little Lise who would rather frolic in the meadow with buttercups.

This whole becoming an adult / joining the Rat Race thing still seems rather dubious... When I was at school, I remember thinking I'd do A-levels, I'd go to uni and then wham! I'd be an adult and go to work. Somehow this has definitely passed me by! Although I have now joined the Real World I guess, I still feel like I child! But then today our Editor-in-Chief (who I definitely consider to be an adult) waltzed in wearing a Sienna Miller t-shirt and announced that she wants a dip-dye. So I guess we all just remain children inside?!