Beauty Salon ICE Cubes recycle Cat compliance Spreadshee
After craftily letting friends, the Swiss federal government and Zürich cantonal authorities think I was gone, I returned to Switzerland. Details about my flight were recorded on last week’s issue of The Weekly Letter. Back for a week. I have noticed differences between the French and German parts of Switzerland.
Almost nothing in Zürich is open on Sunday Almost nothing in Geneva is open on Sunday. (Notice the line in almost.)
I arrived in Zürich in 2001 without Nazy. She had stayed in New Hampshire to handle (minor) details associated with packing, moving, selling the house and let me get settled in my new job. I arrived in Geneva in 2013 without Nazy. She stayed in California to bask in sunshine, make new friends, paint butterflies and let me get settled in my new working environment.
The first place I stayed in Zürich was a small apartment, the Nova Residence on Badenerstrasse. The first place I stayed in Geneva is a smaller apartment on Rue Des Glacis de Rive. Note that both addresses feature non-English street names. The Nova Residence didn’t have an oven. The Glacis residence doesn’t have an oven.
I arrived in Zürich with a fledgling command of college German. I arrived in Geneva with a fledgling command of college German. (The fledgling was more likely to fly in Zürich.)
Aside: My knowledge of French pronunciation is limited, but I heard of a Norwegian named Mr. Høst who checked into a hotel in France. The clerk, wanting to welcome him, said “Bonjour Monsieur, eh.” He was stuck. A leading ‘h’ is not pronounced in French and neither are trailing consonants. The only thing left was a vowel (“o&rdquo
and it was crossed out.
However, there are some differences between Geneva and Zürich:
While I was walking through Geneva (in the rain) I saw a person running toward a bus that had pulled away. The driver, seeing the prospective passenger, stopped the bus to let the latecomer board. This happened twice! In the 12 years we lived in Zürich, I never saw a similar occurrence. In the unlikely event that a Zürich bus driver took note of a running passenger, the response was always cool disdain.
The second difference is even more dramatic. After twelve years in Zürich we developed a deeply ingrained, indeed passionate, understanding of recycling. The city established different places (and schedules) to recycle PET bottles, glass (green, white and brown), newspapers, cardboard, batteries, shoes, clothes, lightbulbs, non-aluminum cans, aluminum cans (i.e. not attracted to the city-supplied magnet).. the list goes on. (And on. And on) I developed a sophisticated Excel application to keep track of the schedule(s). Nazy bought the approved twine to bundle the newspapers. Some friends devoted an entire room to garbage sorting activities.
Explanation for non-Zürichers: “Suppose,” you ask yourself, “that I decide to ignore the regulation and just throw everything away? What can they do?” Naturally, local authorities have thought of that possibility. Accordingly, they provide financial incentives for caring about the environment. You can’t throw anything away unless you either recycle (which is free) or put it into a Zuri-Sack, the city-approved plastic garbage bag. Zuri-Sacks the size of a small pillow case cost about $5. If you discard garbage any other way, the garbage police will track you down. Fines begin at 500 Francs (about US$550).
So, you can imagine, garbage was a major concern for me, a new resident of Geneva. Not only did I not want to litter, I wanted to avoid any fine. I asked someone had lived in Zürich:
“Is there a, eh, ‘Geneva-Sack’, Bob?”
“No. Any plastic sack will work”
“You mean..”
“I mean you can throw away anything. In any kind of bag. Anytime.”
“I saw some recycling bins on..”
“Yes, you can recycle but you are not compelled to recycle. No garbage fines, no garbage police.” I rushed to the store to stock up on large garbage bags.
Some Geneva challenges are general Europe issues. (i.e. noted in both Zürich and in The Netherlands.) An example? Ice! I like ice cubes. Lots of ice cubes. Apparently my likes are not shared on the continent. The freezer (the size of a paperback novel) in the apartment’s refrigerator (the size of a Züri-Sack) has one ice-”cube” tray. It produces ice that is sized for pygmy ants. The cubes are so small that they sublimate before melting - i.e. they’re gone before I can pour ‘Iced’-tea.
Aside: The refrigerator in Santa Barbara, which is larger than the apartment in Geneva, has a automatic ice-making machine that cranks out cubes large enough to have names. I could create a dangerous shipping environment by discarding one in the ocean,
Ice-less, I thought about asking Nazy to send some real ice-cube trays from America. Then I wondered if they still made ice-cube trays in the land of the Ice-Making refrigerator
In last week’s letter, I noted that the “Pussy Cat Nightclub” is right next door. I even sent a photo to Nazy. (She has accelerated plans to join me.)
This apartment, while small, is very central. I can walk to the UBP (Union Bancaire Privée) office where I work in six minutes. (I spend most of that time waiting at red lights to cross intersections.)
UBP has several buildings very close to the Lake. The Russian Orthodox Church (see photo earlier) is less than 100 meters from the apartment which is also about 10 minutes from the St. Pierre Cathedral.
Aside: I can walk to the Cathedral in 10 minutes. Walking back was more problematic. My engrained North American sense of direction is based on the assumption that all turns are 90º and all roads progress in straight lines. Geneva’s roads were laid out before geometry was invented. I “knew” that if I just kept moving to the right, I’d run across something I recognized. Unfortunately, what I f recognized was a long way from the apartment Then it started to rain. [This is another area where Geneva and Zürich are alike.]
But, back to the apartment - which shares the street with a beauty salon for dogs and cats.
(I wonder if employees of the Pussy Cat Nightclub are groomed here. In fact, I wonder if there is a Hairy Dog Lounge nearby.)
At the office, I am getting my arms around the new work. I will be project managing some of UBP’s compliance projects. (Luckily for people like me, governments are generating a lot of new rules and regulations.) In my work, I must understand opaque legal language while juggling information in complicated spreadsheets. It is, in fact:
“The very same thing I do, Dad,” said Melika, The Martin Family lawyer.
Indeed! I have learned that if you’re an American trying to hide money in a Swiss bank in order to avoid taxes - it won’t work. (Drat!)
