David McQuillen

The Swissandwich

Between two pieces of bread lies infinite space. Flexible space. Space that can expand and contract as you please.

Between two pieces of bread lies imagination. Between two pieces of bread, anything is possible.

These possibilities have not been lost on the populations of most countries, where the sandwich is an important national food. The potential has certainly not been lost on the British, who have taken the empty space between bread slices to beautiful heights. Even we Americans are quite capable of doing legendary things between slices.

But then there are the Swiss. Although there are more kinds of bread in Switzerland than just about anywhere else on the planet, the Swiss just don’t seem to know what to do once they cut it up and lie two slices on the table. Unlike most exposed to the potential of the empty space, they take the bread and then proceed to make sandwiches of an undeniably, mind-numbingly mundane standard.

The root cause seems to be that the Swiss just don’t get the idea that the sandwich is an expandable thing. They approach two slices of bread as if there were meant to stay close together, that cutting into slices in the first place was a mistake. As if there was barely any room between them. To the Swiss, it would seem, it’s a lucky thing that you can even fit more than a bit of butter in there.

The butter, really, is where things start to go wrong. They slap the bread with butter on both sides, then press a limp pickle (gherkin) into the bread until it’s almost hidden, like a little surprise, then insert a very thin slice of egg that really (really) does not belong there and then…..then…perhaps a few slices of bunderfleisch. Or perhaps a couple of slices of cheese. Or maybe some of that chicken in the yellow curry sauce (if they are feeling really courageous). Then they stand back. That’s it.

It does not seem to have occured to them that they could do so much more between those slices of bread. That perhaps they could put meat and cheese in there. Perhaps some lettuce. Perhaps some onions. Perhaps a pepper or two. Perhaps, thinking about it and now really getting the courage up, some mustard.  There is plenty of room! Throw it all in. Bacon, anyone?

What is going on here? It may be that in a small country, the idea that space is infinite is difficult to accept. Smaller sandwiches just feel better when land is scarce. Or maybe it’s that meat and cheese living together in the same confined space is troublesome for a country struggling with diversity.  Whatever it is, it deserves careful thought. For across the country, every lunchtime, millions of office workers stare into a sandwich cabinet, tearfully wondering why they can have a bacon sandwich, a lettuce sandwich or a tomato sandwich, but not all at once.

Apartment Living

Living in an apartment in Zurich carries certain responsibilities. There are certain rules to follow. I’ve listed three of them. Three of the more entertaining ones. This list is by no means comprehensive, but will certainly give you an insight into the stressful existance of the average Swiss apartment dweller.

• No baths after ten pm.: No toilet flushing after ten pm. (In fact, I have a friend who lives in a flat where he is not allowed to go to the bathroom standing up. This is because the sound of piss on water makes too much noise from that height, apparently. You know, I wonder who would really have the guts to police someone on this. So, there you are, taking a piss standing up and suddenly there is a knock on the door. You finish the business and head to the door (after washing your hands, of course) and answer. There’s someone who is mad. This person stands there. And says ‘I heard you. I heard you piss. The noise is disturbing my family. We can’t sleep. It’s driving us crazy. Stop it. Sit down, for God’s sake. This is your last warning.)
• Laundry: Laundry is a big deal in Switzerland. As most people live in apartment buildings, they tend to share a communal laundry area. Now, just having everyone go down and do laundry when they damn well feel like it would be totally unacceptable. So, you get a day to do laundry and a specific washing machine and a specific dryer. I get to do mine on Wednesdays. I use the blue washer and the blue dryer. If someone else is doing laundry on my day in my machine, lemme tell you, there is gonna’ be hell to pay. Vice versa.
• Quiet: I already mentioned that even going to the bathroom can be considered noisy in Switzerland. After ten pm, everything is quiet. Even the crickets tone it down a bit, sensing that someone might come out and stamp on them (come to think of it, that would cause a mess, so unless it’s garbage day, then I can’t really see anyone messing up bugs). In my flat, I’m careful not to play the stereo too loud, boil water too vigorously or close doors with too much enthusiasm.

On Buying Toothpaste

I’m simply terrified of finding my mouth full of deep heat rub or some kind of skin rash cream. Unlikely, you say? You have much to learn. You see, there are several things that you should be afraid of getting wrong when in a foreign country. Crossing the street, and looking to the left for traffic when you should be looking to the right, is one example. Getting on an overnight train somewhere when you’re not quite sure whether it’s heading toward the city displayed or away from the city displayed would also be on the list.

And then there is personal hygiene. And toothpaste has to be right at the top of the chart in terms of things you don’t want to get wrong. Think about how you buy toothpaste.
You walk into the drugstore.
You walk to the toothpaste section.
You recognise your favorite toothpaste and grab it.
You go and buy it.

This is a simple, straight forward process that you do every day. Not so in, say, Switzerland
Here’s how it works.

First, try figuring out who is actually in the business of selling toothpaste. It’s hard enough, in a foreign country, trying to figure out what certain stores actually do and don’t sell when looking at them from the outside. Over there: is that a grocery store or a store that just sells vegetables and nothing else? Over there: what the hell does ‘Apotheke’ mean and what do they sell? (Actually, you’ll figure out that an Apotheke is a drug store. And in Switzerland these kinds of stores are very serious places where they take whatever it is you want to purchase, scowl at it, scowl at you, ask you why you need it and what you’re doing to do with it and then write down instructions on the box even if there are already instructions there and then grumpily take your money and send you on your way like some kind of leper who doesn’t deserve the comforts of modern medicine. So, best to avoid those.)

So, you find yourself in a train station convenience store.
You always do.
And you began your quest for toothpaste.

But where do you start? Normally, you’d look up for some kind of sign on the ceiling or an aisle that says ‘Dental Products’ or something like that. But, this is Zurich. Things are in German. And you don’t speak German. Furthermore, german chooses to ignore spaces between words. Theywriteitalltogetherlikethis. More efficient, I suppose. So, good luck figuring out what section might house toothpaste.

So, with no useful signage to guide you, you switch to the next alternative: your common sense. You prowl the aisles for things that ‘look’ like toothpaste. Cylindrical, squishy plastic, ‘toothpaste shaped’ tubes are what you’re looking for. And, ultimately, you find them. Squishy tubes spotted, but not necessarily positively identified as toothpaste, you look at things next to the squishy tubes. Logically, you figure, things like mouthwash and floss and other bathroom products should be there. But this is a convenience store and to the left are Swiss-German music CDs and to the right are baguettes. The only thing to do is examine the tubes.

Joy gives way to despair. There aren’t any ‘Aqua Fresh’ labels on the shelf. There isn’t anything at all you recognise as respectable toothpaste for that matter. And not only do you not recognise the brands, but you don’t understand anything at all that’s written on the label. This could be some sort of butt cream for your dog for all you know. ‘Hmmmm,’ you say, ‘it says dentographsmeisterdosstrasser’ on the tube. Does that sound like German for toothpaste? ‘Dento-‘ seems like ‘Dente’ which you think might be Latin for ‘teeth’ and is actually remarkably similar to ‘Dentist’. But your Latin is not that good. Still not confident, you look for pictures. Things that look like teeth would be a good indicator, right? Things that look like gums would be good, too. Finding such a graphic improves your confidence significantly, but not completely. After all, maybe this isn’t actually toothpaste, but medication to help teeth fall out faster. Who knows?

And, ultimately, here is what happens: You grab the tube that has the word ‘flurosmashangrossen’ cause ‘fluro’ sounds like ‘fluoride’ and grab a toothbrush (those are easy to figure out. No drama there except for whether it’s soft, medium or hard) and hope that when you put the two down on the counter, the clerk will look at them and notice that you just bought a toothbrush and dog hemmoriod cream – and politely point this out to you – or indeed got it right and found yourself some toothpaste.

Postscript: On a trip back to the states, I had a tube of my Swiss toothpaste with me. My friend , who is a nurse, happened to spot it in the bathroom. She brought it out and held it in front of me. ‘Is there anything you need to tell me?,” she said. “Whadda ya mean?,” I replied. She pointed to the label and the brand name: Candida. “Candida is the medical term for a yeast infection in English.”

Post-postscript – To all those that were concerned that I was actually using something I shouldn’t have done, be calm. Candida really is a toothpaste in Switzerland and a nice one at that. I like the purple one.

On Getting Nice Legs

The latest advertising campaign for the Swiss tourist office declares that Switzerland has taken out the copyright on Mountains.

They might as well. The place is hilly. Even when you are on a flat part, you are either just about to go uphill or just about to go downhill on your way to another hill. For example, when I return from work at the end of the day and my train pulls into the main train station, I have a 22 minute walk uphill to get to my place.. This climb includes 183 steps (which covers about one fifth of the hill) and lots of steep grades. This walk, downhill, takes 12 minutes.

Now, I’m not going to dwell on hills themselves here. Nor on how you build cities on the sides of mountains. Let’s talk about what it does to the people. Let’s talk about what it does to their calves.

If there were a World Calves Competition, the Swiss would win it hands down. The other day, I was walking uphil behind what looked to be a women that grew up with Mother Teresa and this old lady had calves cut like a freaking horse. And she was going faster than me. The Swiss are fit as hell from walking up and down hills. All the time. Want legs? Move to Switzerland.

On Garbage

have a storage area in the bottom of my building that is just for me. In this area, I have lots of scrap cardboard, bags full of paper, scraps of wood and metal coat hangers. Garbage I don’t know what to do with. Garbage that I’m scared to throw out.

Throwing stuff out is serious business in Switzerland and get it wrong and you’re gonna’ have hell to pay (see the story about my laundry room). It starts with garbage bags. You can’t throw your leftovers and cellophane wrappers out in just any old bag. No, you need a ‘Zurisack’ (!). That’s a clever little combination of ‘Zurich’ and ‘Sack’ which let’s you know that this is the sack to throw stuff out in when making garbage in Zurich.

To get these precious little items, you have to go to the grocery store and, when at check-out, ask the nice person behind the register if she or he haben sie zurisack. If they do, you’re in luck. The size you want is the 35 Litre, which is just a little bigger than the average kitchen garbage bag. You only need to pay 25 Swiss Francs for 10 bags. For those that like math and foreign exchange rates, that’s about a buck eighty or a pound ten sterling or just plain crazy. But you must pay it if you want to throw anything out (The fine, by the way, as there is a fine for everything, is 90 Swiss francs for throwing out something in a bag other than a Zurisack. Garbage men are trained to go through offending bags and look for receipts or bills with your name on them so they know who is the terrible offender.)

For this reason, the Swiss are not keen on producing garbage. They do not even like to buy things that produce garbage, say a television that has a big cardboard box with a lot of styrafoam around it. Therefore, in order to protect the Swiss economy from meltdown caused by ‘I won’t buy anything cause if I do I have to throw something out’ paralysis, most grocery stores and department stores have a ‘garbage point.’ At these garbage points, which are located right after check out, you can unpack your television, throw all the cardboard and styrafoam and dump it all in a big crate, and walk out a happy person with your naked television.

Oddly, despite their loathing for garbage, Zurich, unlike London, has lots of garbage cans around (my friend Dave Hancock once famously explained to me that the reason they don’t have garbage cans in London is cause people put bombs in them).

Those readers who are less than ethical are probably asking youselves, ‘But Dave, why don’t you just take your garbage to the local train station and dump everything in the garbage can there. You don’t have to pay for one of those dumb Zurisacks and you can get rid of your junk. It’s win win!’ No. No. It’s not. First, the Swiss are on to this and all garbage cans are either padlocked or have an opening only large enough for a can of Coke Light (American friends: this is their version of Diet Coke. Apparently Coke Light is cooler to say than Diet Coke. Like Royale with Cheese. ) Second, someone will see you do this. You might not see them, but they will see you. Throw your garbage out the right way and nobody gets hurt.

On Being On Time

Things in Switzerland are on time. Things that are not on time are surely either not from Switzerland or will never happen again.

A little story to illustrate. 80% of Swiss trains arrive within one minute of their scheduled time. 95% within five minutes. Britian, in comparison, is proud to report that 47% of their trains arrive eventually.

I had friend come and visit us from New York.

I said, ‘Get on the 7:47 train to Horgen when you get to the station.’

He said, ‘Ok.’ So, he went to the station. At 7:43, a train pulled up. Figuring that in NYC or in London a train that shows up at the approximate time is the right train, he figured that must be the train and so got on.

He was wrong and the train didn’t stop at Horgen. When you get on a 7:47 train in Switzerland, don’t get on any train until one shows up at 7:47. (Note: even 7:46 trains should be treated with suspicion.)

On Parking
Once you have a car, you have to put it somewhere. Because cars are big, and they are heavy and they do not fold up into small packages that you can carry with you, you have to park them. In most countries, this is not a big deal and is pretty straightforward. You find an empty spot along the side of the road, preferrably in front of your house, and park your car there.
This is very convenient for those times when you are not driving your car.

In Zurich, there are lots of parking spaces. You find them on the side of the road, in front of houses, near stores and such places where people like to get out of their car and walk around a bit or go into something else. You may (or you may not, which would not be good as you will see later) notice that these parking spaces are marked with a big car-sized colored box on the asphalt. Some are white, some are blue and some might be red or yellow. This is important.

Colors can have rules. Blue Spaces have rules. White Spaces have no rules (unless there is a parking meter somewhere in the neighborhood, in which case there are some rules about paying to park there). For every one White Space, there are 1,000 Blue Spaces. White spaces are like gold dust. You want to find one, but so does everybody else. They are willing to kill you for it, too.

There are times when Blue Spaces have no rules. Those times are late at night and on weekends. During those times, Blue Spaces are like White Spaces. I have no idea what the rules are of Red or Yellow spaces. I avoid them for this reason. Just like slowing down at a yellow light, better to be safe than sorry that you parked in a Red Space and now your car is gone and for sale somewhere in Croatia (unless you pay the fine within ten days).

The rules for a Blue Space are like this: You can only park there if you have a permit. To get a permit, you have to write to your local Kreisburo (town office) and prove that you live in the area where you want to park, that you have a car, that the car is yours, that you are allowed to be in the country, that you have a work permit, and that you have a good reason to park the car where you want to park it.

If they are convinced, they will send you a permit to put in your window and a bill to pay. You can then, like I did, put it in the window of your car, which is comfortably parked right down the street from your flat. You can then go to your car several days later and find 300 francs worth of parking fines under the windshield wiper. You can then call all your friends who also have permits and find out why you are being singled out when everyone else on the street did not get parking tickets. You can then find out that you have to take the permit back out of the car, walk it down to the Post Office (of course), pay your bill, get a stamp on the permit by the post office lady and then put it back in your window.

Or you can just take it to the Post Office first. And, by the way, your Blue Space permit is not going to get you into any ol’ Blue Space. This ain’t no ticke to ride (park). No. No, no, no. You can only park in Blue Spaces that happen to fall in your (very small) Zip Code. If you want to park in another Zip Code, you need another permit for that zone. As a matter of interest, there are a couple hundred zip codes in Zurich. I can park anywhere in 8006. 8007? Off limits.

You may, if you and I were standing next to one of these blue colored spaces, ask me how you are supposed to know that you need this kind of permit. You will probably, predictably, point out that there is no sign (anywhere. at all.) explaining that you need such a permit. You might also ask what you are supposed to do with your car during the time between applying for your permit, actually getting it and getting it stamped (a process of a few days)? The answer to the first is that this just happens to be something that all Swiss ‘Know.’ There seem to be a lot of things like this. Things that aren’t really written down anywhere obvious, but that everyone knows. Like a dirty little parking secret. The answer to the second is: park it at the shopping mall parking
garage….it has a nice daily rate.

And, if you are really interested in this subject, you might say, “What if you have someone coming to visit? What if they’re driving? What if they want to get out of their car when they come to visit you? What if they live more than 1 mile from your place?” No problem. All you have to do is go down to the local Kreisburo (during office hours) and take a number. When it’s your turn to speak to the Kreisburo official, you kindly (and only kindly) inform them that you have a guest coming to visit you for dinner and they would like to park their car. There is sure to be a disapproving glance cast here, but pay it no attention. It’s only a reflex.

At this point, the official will offer you a few options. Would your guest like to park their car for a day? They you can buy a day permit for the guest which can be displayed in the offending car’s window. Would they like to park for a few days? They can buy a week permit. More than that? Oh. Dear. They have to register with the Kreisburo as a resident alien, provide a criminal record, file for official status and check in on a daily basis.

On driving badly
This is simple. You are not allowed to drive badly in Switzerland. And the Swiss have put many, many ‘controls’ in place to ensure that should you drive badly, you will be punished (i.e., fined) severely.

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PS: With all this trouble, you might think it’s better to just ride your bike. Ah-hah. It’s worth mentioning that you also have to get a license for your bicycles. But you can buy those, of course, at the Post Office. As far as I am aware of*, you do not have to pay to park your bicycle.

* The fact that I am not aware of something does not mean that such thing does not exist. I have not been aware of lots of things in Switzerland that have, over time, made themselves known to me. Usually in unpleasant ways.