Unexpected culture shock
Trip Start
May 07, 2004
1
49
64
Trip End
Jun 27, 2006
Nyon,
Switzerland
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Switzerland was beautiful and fun, and I hope that my four days there have given me a somewhat realistic snapshot of what life there would be like. I also hope that I communicated my abilities and strengths to the team I'd be working with, and that they liked me.
When travelling I'd learned how to get by without knowing much/any of the local languages. I was more than capable of providing sustenance for myself through sign language, and I had few qualms about asking people to speak English for me, if they could.
New was super easy for me to do. In fact, I thrived on it. Craved it. And threw myself at it. Friendships, countries, languages... whatever. The more that was new and stimulating, the better.
I hadn't been in that situation, I realized, for more than two years. First of all, I haven't been outside of the US/Canada for more than a year. Secondly, I speak the language of wherever I've been (besides Quebec, which doesn't count) in the past two years. This entire time I've known my French is appalling, but occasions have been few and far between that I've had to prove that to myself.
Of course, there are many people in Switzerland that speak English. A far higher percentage than there are Canadians that speak French, I'd imagine. But I steadfastly refuse (unless at a complete and utter loss), as I do understand some French, and am certain that I won't get better if I don't try.
I really am a WWF geek!
My French is better than my Spanish was when I arrived in South America. And anyway, it can only get better, but only if I try.And so I buy my second class train ticket to Nyon in French. And understand which platform the woman directs me to. I ask for directions to my hotel in French (although I can only find it when helped by a lovely exchange student from Africa). And I check in en francais.
But after only sleeping a little on the plane, and only marginally more in the weeks leading up to this trip, it's all very exhausting. And not very much fun when I realize I haven't printed of my colleague Tanya's phone number and that there isn't any internet at the hotel.
Two hours of this not very much funness later, I've made up my mind that Nyon is decidely quaint, but too small for a girl like me to live in at this stage of her life. And I'm lonely and wondering why I am choosing to leave my (finally) very happy life in diverse and multi-cultural Toronto to acheive goals that I made for myself 1/2 a decade ago or longer.
In my head I know I'm just tired, but somehow that doesn't help me change my attitude. In my head I know that if I don't acheive these goals, I'll regret it... and I hate regretting things... and in my head I know that I'll find happiness here, but that it'll take a little while, and some sleep.
And so after a long and rather annoying goose chase, I return to the cyber machine that had stolen my five francs in the first hour of my search, and with one last ounce of hope, I gingerly place a two franc piece in. And voila! I am www connected.
Slowly, I start to view my day as a small success, and even a little bit fun. Maybe I'll go to Geneva for dinner...
