Mrs. Ox

While living here, I have quickly learned that the Swiss way of doing things is not always the same way of doing things in the US. However, after 2 months of living here, I finally got internet in my apartment today!! (well…legitimately – thanks to my neighbors for unbeknowingly letting me steal their internet thus far!) When I first called up Swisscom (the telephone/internet provider I am using) when I got here, they needed a Swiss permit number, so we gave them Armughan’s name and number. Although we tried to make it clear that I would be the one getting the services, I quickly became “Mrs. Arnzyghan Syed” according to the mail I received from them. Several phone calls later, I finally received a piece of mail from Swisscom in my own name! – almost. I was now “Heather Ox.” A step in the right direction, at least. After even more phone calls, they finally sent the internet router to me, and I received a yellow note in my mailbox instructing me to pick it up from the post office yesterday. Unfortunately, when I went to pick it up, they said that it would not be available to pick up until the next day. (Of course! – why wouldn’t they leave a note for me to come pick it up if it wasn’t ready yet?) Thankfully, when I went to the post office today I was handed my router with no problems! The woman behind the counter asked who the package was for, and when I told her it was for me, she asked, “your last name is ‘Ox’”? I giggled and told her it was a mistake. Thankfully, after getting home and sitting on my floor with too many connection cables and instruction booklets for a while, I now have wireless internet that is all my own!

In other news, I did something today that I have been afraid of doing ever since I stepped into (or out of) my apartment two months ago. I love my apartment and the building that I live in—however, my apartment door locks automatically whenever it shuts. Therefore, if I step out without my keys (and I haven’t had a chance to make a copy yet), I am screwed. Today, as I was leaving my apartment to run errands, I left with keys in hand. After shutting the door, I thought that I may want to pick up some groceries on my way home—in order to do so, I would need to bring along my own grocery bags (one thing I love about European culture and wish they would enforce in the US). I rushed back in to grab the bags, threw my keys on the kitchen table, and ran out the door. I was screwed. Thankfully, Armughan helped me reach my landlord, who lives only two buildings over. Soon, a petite elderly man showed up on the bottom floor of my building. After not understanding a word of the French that he was speaking to me, we decided to communicate in Spanish. In the elevator on our way up, he said that he would “try but wasn’t making any promises.” (I was a bit confused – is it that difficult to put the key in and open the door?) When we reached my door together, he pulled out a flimsy tape measure and a thin metal rod about 5 inches long. (Of course! Why would a landlord have a spare key when he could just break into the apartment instead?) After several minutes, this crafty elderly man magically opened my door and I was saved!

Although sometimes there have been difficulties in making things happen the way I am used to, I have actually enjoyed learning about and adapting to Swiss culture. The next step is to learn French (I will start class in a couple of weeks!) and maybe make a few copies of my apartment key.