Culturally Swiss

Lisa and I moved here too late in life to ever really be culturally Swiss.  Sure, we share many of the characteristics that are considered Swiss (follow rules, habitually on time, fiscally conservative) but these are personality traits that we arrived with and which partly explain why we’re so comfortably happy here.  Paige, on the other hand, has developed into a veritable Heidi.  For her, we’ll never know whether it was nature or nurture but she’s as Swiss as they come.  Should we apply for Swiss citizenship, there’s a requirement to demonstrate assimilation and she’s our ringer.    Speaks perfect dialect?  Check.  Member of several local clubs?  Check.  Drinks Rivella voluntarily?  Check.  Participates in Fasnacht?  Double check ( five year member of a clique).   Really the only non-Swiss behavior she exhibits is that she answers the phone by saying “Hello”.  You’ll hear no “Crump” barked out when calling our home.   

Banking

Earlier this year, Paige completed the  two day Red Cross babysitting course, hung up her shingle and opened her babysitting practice.  In the few months since, her outrageous fees have allowed her to accumulate Breaking Bad quantities of cash in her nightstand so I decided  recently that the time had come for her to open her first bank account.  Since this is not a “drop in” activity here, I made an appointment for us to meet with a client advisor at UBS.   Why UBS?  As American citizens,  we have to go with one of the big banks still willing to deal with the paperwork and risks that accompany us as a result of the new US banking laws.   While just a thirteen year old babysitter, Paige’s assets would be subject to the same IRS scrutiny faced by the international arms merchants, drug dealers and financiers who launder their billions through the Swiss banking system.  So, last week we  presented ourselves  at the appointed time in the giant marble UBS lobby, a space large enough to host a volleyball tournament, only to learn that the advisor was not yet available.  In hushed tones, we were directed upstairs where we were met by a nice lady who ushered us into a bright, sunny meeting room before offering drinks and cookies to ease the inconvenience.   It worked for Paige.  She’s still young enough to be bought off by a Coke.    Me, I was just annoyed.    After roughly twenty minutes,  our client advisor showed up,  accompanied by a trainee.   He asked if it was okay to involve a trainee and I replied truthfully that it was.  In fact, I thought it was a good opportunity for Paige to witness how the young man interacted with us as he dealt with his nervousness.  She could very well be in a similar situation herself someday, a day that would arrive much too soon for my emotional well-being.     After introductions, the trainee worked his way through the presentation, stumbling at some points and receiving guidance from his mentor.   I seeded Paige with a few questions to ask and, oblivious to the disrespect inherent in their tardiness, she felt grown up and important.  At the conclusion of the presentation, there were several forms to sign so we did this and handed them over along with our passports and permits.  They told us it would take half an hour to file the documents so we left to walk around a bit outside and enjoy the nice spring day.   After thirty minutes we returned and were shown back to the nice meeting room where we waited for what turned out to be forty-five minutes.   What had happened to the famous Swiss punctuality I wondered, once again annoyed.  Eventually, the advisor and his sidekick showed up, apologizing somewhat perfunctorily, before returning our passports and completed account forms.   In the end, while I was left unimpressed by their lack of respect for our time, we got it done and Paige was the proud owner of her very own Swiss bank account.   Interestingly, during the closing pleasantries, the advisor asked whether I had my mortgage with UBS.  I noted that I didn’t because their rates were high.  He was disappointed to hear this, noting that while their rates are a bit high they strive to make up for this through superior service, a comment that betrayed a surprising tone deafness in light of the experience we’d just had.  I decided not to add that the other reason that I’d not gone with UBS was that the mortgage specialist to whom I’d forwarded our information had never called me back.   

Landsgemeinde

This past Sunday Paige and I attended the Landsgemeinde in Appenzell Innerrhoden.   What’s that, you ask?  And further, why?  Well, it’s the annual open air public meeting used in this Canton to elect officials, vote on referenda and generally just decide stuff.  It’s taken place at noon on the last Sunday of April every year since 1378 and is held in the village square in the center of town.   The voting is done by a show of hands but prior to 1991 this was done by raising a sword, a practice that was changed that year when women were finally granted the right to vote.  Up to that point, possession of a sword itself had been the proof that one was stimmberechtigt (has the right to vote) and since they were typically handed down from father to son, no women owned one.   These days a voter identify card is the official proof but, and I admit to finding this pretty cool, for men the sword still suffices.   Perhaps not so enlightened but it’s nice when traditions don’t die completely.   In any case, I've been curious to attend this event ever since hearing about it and having realized last year that this was the last of Switzerland’s twenty-six cantons which I’d yet to visit, this was plainly the excuse I needed.  So, at 8:17 Sunday morning we boarded the train and set out on our little adventure.  It’s a three hour trip from Basel but like always, riding the Swiss trains was a treat in itself.  So pleasant with a beautiful view of the lakes, mountains and country side rolling by.  Once there, we followed the crowd, including the nattily dressed men with their swords, towards the Landsgemeideplatz to seek a good vantage point.  The central area had been cordoned off with gendarmes in shiny brass helmets stationed at the entrances to check ID’s (or swords) before allowing the Stimmberechtigten entry to the official voting area.  Unfortunately, the weather had turned wintery with grey skies dropping an unpleasant mix of snow and rain but no matter, the turnout was good and the area grew full.  At 12:15, uncharacteristically late, the parade of officials, flags and people wearing funny hats began their special march into the voting corral.  Finally, what we’d come for.  I’d reviewed the agenda the week before, just to see if anything especially interesting was on the docket.  A few years ago the Appenzellers voted on whether nude hiking should be banned and the international media caught wind of it and descended upon the town to cover the debate.  I don’t know how close it was but they came down on the side of modesty, resolving that the price of a naked stroll henceforth would be CHF 200.  Sadly, nothing so racy was on the program this year but I did see that “their Excellencies”, the Chinese, British and Canadian ambassadors would be present.  Also, in addition to all of the local politicians, Guy Parmelin, the Federal Council member responsible for Defense, Civil Protection and Sport would be in attendance.  Clearly, we were to be in good company.   This canton was the last to recognize women’s suffrage and the vintage of that recognition still brings a bit of ignominy to the community each year.  Indeed, it was mentioned during the moving remarks made by Mr. Roland Inauen to open the meeting this year when he commented that 25 years ago, with half the people excluded, a true democracy did not really exist.  I was glad to hear him note this as it shows that while there may be some lingering discomfort, it’s acknowledged and in the past.  The 16,000 citizens of Appenzell are moving forward.   This lies in stark contrast to my own country where just last week, in the NY primary, over half a million people voted for Donald Trump, showing that there are plenty in the US who should feel a more contemporary and inexcusable sense of shame.  In the end, and in spite of the weather, Paige and I judged the trip to have been more than worthwhile and if I felt any disappointment it was only when the men voted by waving their hands, not their splendid swords.   This week, when recounting our escapade to co-workers, I found that most were genuinely surprised that I’ve now visited all of the cantons.   I don’t find it so impressive myself.  It’s not like visiting all fifty US states, an accomplishment requiring an intentional effort and one big enough that I’m not even close.  Some years ago I made it to thirty-three but have been stuck there since.  It’s all that flatness out west that’s sunk me.  I just haven’t found a sufficient excuse.  Now if Oklahoma, Nebraska and South Dakota would only have a Landsgemeinde.  Then I’d go.  

Cow fighting

Coming up in a few weeks is an event I heartily recommend.  We attended last year for the first time and it was a real treat.  Switzerland at its finest.  The event to which I refer is the annual cow fighting championship.   Before you get your knickers in a twist thinking that this is a form of bull fighting or, worse, a  bovine version of cock fighting, let me explain.   First off, the cows don’t get hurt.  It shouldn’t really be called fighting as it’s more like intimidation, a word not often used in conjunction with “cow”.  The championship weekend is the culmination of regional contests in canton Valais and takes place each year in May.   The winner is crowned the Reine de la Reine (Queen of the Queens) and receives a lovely cow bell and recognition that she’s one tough cow.  No monetary reward.  In a nod to a bygone era, it’s amateur athletics at its best with only pride at stake.  In each round, ten or twelve cows are released into a big ring where they proceed, on their own, to pair up and lock horns until one concedes and turns away.  Then each one looks around, pairs up with another and does it again.  Sometimes they don’t even lock up.  One simply stares the other into backing down.  Once a cow yields twice she’s eliminated.   Last year’s winner was Frégate, the defending champion and a true alpha cow.  Will she three-peat?   I can’t wait to see.  Mark your calendars.  May 1^st.  Aproz, Valais.  Be there.

Infrastructure

Last year I posted my top 10 list of things I like about Switzerland.  One reader commented that #3 (Direct Democracy) isn’t what it’s cracked up to be and used California to support his argument.  I’ve never lived in California so can’t speak to this first hand but…the state is chock full of Californians and relatively few Swiss so we’re talking serious apples to oranges here.  Anyway, I digress from the original point of this post which was to note that when I featured characteristic #2 (Public transportation) I was perhaps defining it a bit too narrowly.   Recently, when driving home after a week’s ski holiday, I was reminded of the excellent roads, bridges and tunnels.  In other words, the general infrastructure that makes #2 possible.  This got me to wondering whether there is any infrastructural element which is not excellent here.  I commented to my wife that I bet Switzerland has the world’s highest rated infrastructure and when we got home I did a bit of research and, sure enough, it does.  According to a report published in 2014 by the World Economic Forum¹, Switzerland’s infrastructure is #1 in the world (out of 144 countries rated).  This evaluation comprised more than just roads and rail of course.  In fact, there were nine categories in total, such as air transport, telephone, electric grid and even seaports, a category where Switzerland somehow managed a #44 ranking in spite of being landlocked.  Surprisingly, Switzerland wasn’t #1 for rail infrastructure.  That honor went to Japan, although Switzerland was #2.  The area where Switzerland shined highest was electric grid, a recognition to which I can attest.  In our ten years here we’ve suffered only a single power failure and nary a flickering light.  Naturally, I was curious to see how the US ranked and was surprised that it managed a respectable, but not great, #16.  In overall Global Competitiveness, the US ranked #3 (after Switzerland and Singapore) so we make up for it in other ways, for instance Marketing sophistication where we were ranked top in class (Go Mad Men).   One last observation that I found interesting.  One of the many other sub-categories in which Switzerland finished #1 was “Capacity to attract and retain talent”.  They got me to come and stay, didn’t they?

¹ The Global Competitiveness Report 2014–2015: Full Data Edition.  Published by the World Economic Forum within the framework of The Global Competitiveness and Benchmarking Network (available at www.weforum.org/gcr).

McRaclette

I saw this ad the other day.  Haven’t tried one yet, just doesn’t seem right.

Turkey smuggling

A few weeks ago we celebrated Thanksgiving.  It’s just a typical work day here so we always celebrate it on the Saturday directly afterwards.  We get together with several other families and do the whole thing.  Stuffing, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce.  And, of course, turkey.   Turkey’s a lunch meat here.  No one really cooks a bird whole.  Our first year we made it work with a scrawny specimen that the farmer killed specially for us.   It was like a wild turkey is in the US which, last I knew, no one actually eats.   The second year we learned that in Germany it's possible to get a frozen one, similar to a US turkey but about half the size, which is just as well since a US bird wouldn’t fit in a Swiss oven.   That worked well so every year since I order one from the German supermarket and pick it up a few days before we cook it. This year, as we were expecting around 30 people, I ordered two.  As usual, the Wednesday beforehand I zipped across the border on the way home from work to pick them up,  While I was waiting for them to be brought out I looked over some information the store had and saw that the import limits had changed.   For all of the time we’ve lived here, poultry was treated differently than beef with regards to how much you could bring into Switzerland.  The brochure I was reading, however, noted that now, meat was meat, meaning that even for poultry there was a 1 kg limit.  As such, for each kilogram over there is an import duty of CHF 18 (roughly $18 now).  The two turkeys I was waiting for were close to 12 kg total.  Some quick math told me that they were going to cost, in addition to the purchase price, about $200 just to bring them over the border.    Unless …. I smuggled them.    We’ve generally been pretty law abiding citizens here.  Keep our noses clean, that’s been our strategy.  This, however, turned me.  I couldn’t help it.  I was breaking bad.  I became a turkey trafficker.