#muchadoabouteveryrhing

[thatbonggirlblog-blog]

Switzerland, the big Plus! - Part 1

Sleep deprived, shaking legs, sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat. This is how I was when I waited with baited breath in queue to get off the airplane and step into….breathe… Switzerland! As an Indian girl (..ok woman..whatever) who is a die-hard Bollywood movies fan and has permanent SRK frenzy, landing in Switzerland was a dream of the highest regard. There is a little YRF / Dharma productions drama-queen that lives within me who is based out of this country permanently. I was finally here…not as an actress but as an employee of a bank who had come over to work. But.. I was finally here :).

I had landed in Zurich on an early winter morning in the month of February. After I landed, I spent the first few hours like any other Indian outside of India. Anxious, confused and dealing with tremendous trust issues in terms of things like… luggage safety, cost of a new sim-card, connectivity / conveyance, etc. Yes, that is how we Indians are brought up. We are taught not to trust anybody or anything ever and be skeptical all the time because you WILL get cheated. It is not easy to get over so many years of training and practical experience (was almost about to reveal my age..naaaah!). Anyway, I was supposed to go straight to the office from the airport. Got changed into formal clothing at the airport, got sorted in terms of gathering maps from the helpdesk and a working mobile connection. Got mesmerized by the fact that there were underground trains to take you from one terminal to the other within the airport. Yeah yeah.. I am being a baby but let’s face it, It was my first time in Europe and experiencing all this personally is very different from just reading about developed countries. So far I had spent 2 hours in Zurich and apart from the train inside the airport, everything seemed pretty vanilla. I walk out of the airport to the arrivals area (freeeezing cold!!) and I see a limousine waiting to pick me up…Yes, a limousine… Nothing was vanilla anymore…Welcome to Zurich baby!

Ride to the workplace was fun as the well-dressed and handsome chauffer was being a bit of a tour guide. He showed me a few major spots which were a must visit during my stay there, asked me about India and told me how he was planning to holiday in India. I proudly gave him insights about my homeland while he gave me about his. As planned, I reached the office on time. I spent most of the day fighting hunger at odd timings and getting all my official accesses in place to be able to start working properly from the next day onwards. My colleagues showed me around the office, introduced me to the people around and helped me with information on how to get around the city. All this new information and all I was thinking was….how will I survive with only toilet paper and no water??? YES!! It is a major concern!! Another Indian habit..and this is one of those habits which I can vouch for and confidently say that it is definitely the better, cleaner and healthier option. Moving on, I left work early that day and checked into my service apartment which was just 10 minutes from the office. This was my home for the five weeks I spent there. Another system that took me by surprise was that there was no helpdesk or front desk at the service apartment. You have a numeric code to enter the building which is also the key to your room and that’s it. So basically you have to figure out your way around with the help of the welcome e-mail and a brochure in your room. Went up to my apartment, took a shower, informed my family that I was fine and then slept like a baby for 2 hours.

I started to figure out my apartment only after I woke up. Induction cooking, artificial heating system, garbage disposal, dishwasher…and of course.. the “toilet paper only” scenario. Went down to the basement and took a look at machines in the laundry area…didn’t understand shit. Met two Indians on my way back up..asked them for help. Turned out that they didn’t understand shit either. They had already been there for a week and they didn’t know how to use it…! They did not take any effort beyond a point to figure it out either. Classic and extreme example of the trust issues we have been brought up with.. don’t trust anyone or anything. Wash and dry your clothes manually if you have to in this cold weather… but don’t trust the unknown machine or the unknown people who could help you with the machine *facepalm*. Came back to my apartment, packed myself up with my jacket, cap, muffler, socks and boots. Got out in search of a departmental store to fill my little apartment with all that I needed. It was a dull and cold evening with barely any people around.. but in my little brain…It was my first evening in Switzerland!! I was a small party all by myself. I found myself clicking pictures of everything right from roads to tram to building to shops and of course…SNOW! Ohh how I loved all the snow..people around me didn’t look half as happy as me. I was running around trying to catch snowflakes…yeah..and smiling at what I caught..and clicking pictures of it. Actually, now that I am describing the scene..it does sound pretty foolish. Nevertheless, just when I thought nothing could kill my excitement, I came face-to-face with the prices for groceries and other household items I needed. OUCH! That hurt…Not that you all wouldn’t know but just to stress on it a little more…Switzerland is freakkin expensive!! After a tiring session of mental mathematics at the store where I kept on multiplying the display price with the exchange rate, I came up with a rule and swore by it for my stint there. The rule was as follows.. If you do not know the tables of the number (price) on display then I DEFINITELY cannot afford it..therefore don’t buy it. For Example: let’s say the price displayed on a pack of chicken sausages said 3 CHF (Swiss Francs). Keeping the CHF to INR rate at an average of 70 bucks, it will cost me 3*7 = 21 = 210 bucks. Cool! Go ahead and buy! Now..if the display said something like a 17 CHF for some other product…Ohh no no no…. Although my father and teachers kept on forcing and scolding me to memorize the tables up to 30.. I never did because I just couldn’t. Plus after a point it was just being adamant and I wouldn’t. Turns out it worked pretty well in terms of my budgeting for the trip. If you land up using the calculator of your phone, you just don’t buy it..PERIOD. After all this, I finally reached the billing counter. The billing counter is basically a self-checkout at most of the stores there. Again, something that I did for the first time..I checked myself out of a store! Like I proudly behaved like a cashier..beeping all the stuff I picked..putting it into a bag..paying and then moved out. Although I had spent like a month’s grocery budget in INR terms and got stuff that I could only use for a week, I walked out with a big smile J. I played cashier today! #CheapThrills

Reached the apartment and cooked myself a decent dinner. Now with a happy tummy I decided to give the laundry room a second try. With a lot of patience, perseverance and prayers I finally managed to operate the front load washing machine. Now the challenge was…How to use the dryer. Turns out there was another machine, more like a heater…where I need to put the clothes in after they are washed. This is mainly because the role of the sun in Switzerland is basically limited to being a light-bulb. It’s just a light..no heating capacity..at least in the winter. So your clothes need to be put through this other machine to dry them well. There were absolutely no instructions on that machine n looked like a mini fridge on the exterior. When you open it, it looked like a front load washing machine from the inside with shining metal on the walls. I then started racking my brains over the visual made on the 6 buttons which I interpreted as the following:

Full Sun, Half Sun (Sunrise / Sunset), Little wet, Extremely wet, woolens (really confident), Hanging shirt (umm..whatt?)

My little brain was running like crazy. The reference to the “Sun” I interpreted as more heating or light heating. Why would they make those droplets? It cannot possibly signify that I want my clothes wet..was it asking me if my clothes are really wet or slightly wet? If so…then my interpretation of Sun would be wrong! Like then the “sun” buttons are asking me if my clothes are already dry..?whaatt?? Moving on..really confident about the woolens sign that it will be used to dry woolens..but what’s with the shirt? Like should I use that option if I have only shirts? If so..where do the pants / dresses / lingerie go? Gosh…!! After all this algorithmic brain racking I just went ahead and pushed the “sunrise / sunset” sign. The timer said 66 minutes and started off… I was like…”ok.. If you are confident you can dry all that up with half the amount of sunlight then so be it!” Went back to my room…binge watched Netflix for an hour and came back to the laundry room. Tadaaa!! Squeaky clean, fresh, warm and dry clothes!! Mission accomplished…I had just crossed my first little hurdle on this foreign land. I gloated over my achievement while I prepared for the next day and went to sleep. My first day in Zurich had come to an end and the most memorable journey of my life had just begun.

To be contd…

[thatbonggirlblog-blog]

I speak fluent Bongyalam!

Born and brought up in a purebred Bengali family, life was pretty much as it was expected to be. Extremely educated and cultured parents with extremely high expectations from their kids in terms of examination scores as well as cultural activities. Fish is good for the brain and eyes, so we were told…Fish curry and rice flows through our veins. You just HAVE to have a thing for music…HAVE TO.. it’s not a choice, it is like the compulsory subjects in school… For other kids it goes maths, science, history, English, hindi etc… Bengali parents add MUSIC to it. You either know how to sing or you know how to play a musical instrument in addition to the immense knowledge in music that you MUST have. You have to perform at Durga Pujo pandals and all the family gatherings and YOU have to be the best (even if it is not a competition and you won’t get rewarded for it). Mind you ALL the parents come with the same mentality at such gatherings. It’s tough..it really is… You have a room full of strict fathers and strong-willed/pushy mothers finding mistakes in you performance. They know it all, they really do.

My father is a Government official which gave us as a family the opportunity to stay outside West Bengal. So far I have lived in Kolkata, Lucknow, Sikkim (for a bit), Mumbai and Pune. Staying in government campus accommodations, gave me an opportunity to interact with people from a vast variety of cultures and different walks of life. We practically celebrate every Indian festival and love the food that comes with each of them… Aaah food… obviously just like the kids in the family, Bengali food is also believed to be the best. We find it beneath our dignity to even get into the argument of which is the best biriyani in India…It is the Bengali one.. period. Nevertheless, as appreciators of culture, we love all food that comes from anywhere in the world and we are all food critics..

With all this Bongism flowing through my veins I eventually tied the knot with a Malayali man. Yeah…1st in my family performing this rebellious act. It all started on a nice September evening when me and my spouse, then boyfriend decided to break the news to our parents. Me in Mumbai and he was in Kerala. How did it go you ask? Well this was the part where I started discovering that we Bengalis are not all that unique after all :P. Both the fathers had exactly three questions for their rebellious kid:

1. What is his/her educational qualification? – Ans – She is an MBA Finance / He is an MBA HR

2. What is his/her family background? – Ans – Her mother is into training and consulting, was a teacher, father is a government employee and one younger sister who is studying / His mother is a housewife now, was working sometime back, father was a government employee – retired a few months back, sister is married and is a school teacher.

3. Is he/she a Hindu / Muslim / Christian? – Ans – She is a Hindu Bengali / He is a Hindu Malayali.

The Government Banker fathers took it in their hands and within four months, our parents got us married and happily gave us their blessings. And thus started my journey of finding my way through a new family..which is also now… My family.

See now that’s the thing… Malayalis are not all that different! What did we just talk about? Things that matter to them are the exact things that matter to us…namely: Fish curry-rice, education, music and most importantly communist nature! My husband is trained in Carnatic music, sister-in-law is a trained Bharatnatyam dancer. My sister is an amazing painter and I am a keyboard player along with decent singing and dancing skills. So you see art and culture are equally important in both bongs and mallus. My father-in-law is the Malayali incarnation of my own father. Strict, straightforward, had breath-taking anger management issues which have subsided with age (with occasional flares of-course), extremely disciplined and highly educated. My mother-in-law immediately becomes my mother’s equivalent because they are married to these men...STILL married. The only challenge I faced so far are basically the high ego both these cultures have for themselves. It becomes hard to deal with a group of people who also find it beneath their dignity to even get into the argument of which is the best biriyani in India…It is the Malabar one.. period ;). My husband and I appreciate the similarities in each other’s cultures but still believe we (individually as a bong / mallu) are the best. Apart from that it is basically just:

- Sweet water fish vs. sea fish – as long as it is fish, we all love it.

- Bengali classical music vs. Carnatic music – as long as it is music, we all love it.

- Durga Puja vs. Onam – as long as we are all dressed up to celebrate and having good food, we all love it.

- Poila Boishakh vs. Vishu – DUH! They are celebrated on the same date! So who cares!

- Football = love, don’t care who vs who.

- Uttam Kumar vs. Mohanlal – woah woah woah…let’s just not get into that for now..even that thought is off limits, let alone the discussion. Also its “Uttam Da” and “Lal Ettan” please forgive me :( !

So, moving forward that leaves us with … brace yourself… LANGUAGE!! Got to accept, Malayalam is the tougher language. My husband understood Bengali from our dating days itself while I joined a three months crash course in spoken Malayalam to make sure I understand what my in-laws are saying to each other! Especially if it’s about me! Anyway, God bless my teacher and bless my in-laws too. Although I understand Malayalam my in-laws always speak to me in Hindi or English. The benefit in Kerala as a state is the literacy rate…practically everybody knows English or at least understands it. So how it works with me on the Kochi streets is, I speak grammatically incorrect English so that the people understand me while the people are sweet enough to speak grammatically incorrect Malayalam so that I understand them…It’s hilarious but it works! Such has been my journey so far. There wasn’t much drama as you would usually expect in a cross-cultural marriage but I must say we are all individually…trust me… VERY dramatic! That’s all folks..until next time!