Switzerland - A Work Trip to Dubai

Spot the Difference Switzerland vs Dubai - Ski Dubai in Mall of the Emirates

Well, after 10 months, my employer finally decided it was safe to let me out of the office and I was allowed to attend / present at a meeting in Dubai. Actually, it was budget restrictions that meant I couldn’t travel up to now, but it’s felt a bit like I’ve been caged up for all this time. As a contractor, I’m probably lowest priority, so I’m not complaining too hard.

Work rules are that if the flight is at least 6 hours, you can fly business class. The flight from Zurich to Dubai is 6 hours and 10 minutes …luck was with me, for a change.

It was my first time flying with Emirates, and my first time in a double-decker plane (what is life coming to!); I can recommend both.

The Emirates lounge in Zurich airport managed to serve all my favorite food, so it was hard to decide what to have (Zurich Geschnetzeltes, lamb curry, beef stroganoff, black forest gateau, lindor balls, mixed salted nuts). I had the lamb curry, the nuts, and the cake in the end and packed a lindor ball for the journey. Maybe it was just because I was hungry (I’d just come out from two meetings), but the food was fabulous.

The journey was smooth and it was good to see some Arabic in real life again (rather than just in my text book of stilted conversations!). It inspired me to spend some of the flight learning my vocabulary.

The good thing about flying with Emirates was that they have their own fast-track through security and customs in Dubai (I think it’s their “home” airport). The bad thing was that, having taken advantage of this, it was all to no avail because my pick-up wasn’t there waiting for me as I came into the arrivals hall.

After walking up and down the line of people holding placards for their visitors, waiting for about 15 minutes, and wondering if I needed to phone the UK emergency number (I could have got a free chauffeur service from Emirates; that would have worked better), he turned up. Apparently he’d been delayed by someone who’d had visa problems (I later found out that it was someone I knew!).

Anyway, my driver finally collected me but subsequently dropped me off at the wrong hotel. He was gone before I realized the error. This was at 1 am. My hotel wasn’t so far away (just the other side of the Mall of the Emirates), but I didn’t really want to be walking in the dark on my own in the early hours of the morning after a long journey. I trudged along the main road and the building works, my small suitcase rattling along behind me, and I finally arrived at my destination.

To my surprise, arriving in the warmth of Dubai, being confronted with the Arabic design in the hotels, and seeing the Arabic writing on all the posters made me feel a pang for Egypt. I wanted to be back in the sun, experience its haphazardness, be back among the people. On the other hand, Dubai is very wealthy (or at least it appears to be) and I could also sense myself slipping into the consumerism mentality. I dreamt of limitless wealth so that I too could have a huge diamond on my finger, fly to all the exotic locations, and stay in the best hotels.

It was great to meet some colleagues face-to-face at long last and to forge some new contacts. Several people were there who I’d had teleconferences with on multiple occasions; by the end it felt a bit bizarre to think I hadn’t met them before. My one-hour talk got cut to around 20 minutes due to the meeting running behind schedule, but people still clapped in the right places.

The agenda was full-on with dinners planned every evening with less than an hour between the end of the day’s work and going to dinner, leaving little time for reading emails etc. They’d somehow managed to get a deal for most of the meals where there was limitless alcohol. It’s the first time I’ve been to a work event where I’ve been actively encouraged to drink as much as I possibly can.

Although I’m a Brit, and was therefore expected to fulfil the obligation of drinking a lot, I’ve been living in a “dry” country for 18 months and in Switzerland wine is served in only 100 ml portions at a time, so I’m really a bit out of practice. I ate far too much (the food was also limitless, it seemed), so it’s time for diet and exercise (unfortunately, my stomach is craving more food now!). I’ve returned with a cold, it appears, too. Those are the dangers of work trips!

The Netherlands - Renewing a Friendship

Idette and Fiona on Fiona's Visit in Feb 2016!

There were a few things that I’d promised myself to do while I was back in Europe and one of them was to visit Idette in the Netherlands.

I think I’ve taken it a bit for granted, to be honest, but when people ask me who Idette is, and I explain that she’s a penfriend that I’ve had for over 35 years, the reaction I get is one of astonishment. I’d like to think that it’s because people think I can’t possibly be that old, but it’s more likely to be the whole concept of keeping up correspondence with someone for that amount of time.

A lot happens in 35 years; we started off writing letters with pen and paper and sending them via the post – remember those days?

If I remember correctly, I think it started off as one of those things you do at school (maybe that should be in the past tense, as I very much doubt it happens any more). I seem to recall that when I was maybe 15 years old a list was passed round at school and you could volunteer to start writing letters to someone in a foreign country. I can’t remember how the people were paired up – I have a vague feeling that I saw a list of names of people who were interested and where they came from and I just thought that Holland sounded interesting. And so it began.

Thinking about it, it was a pretty good school initiative as it was before plane travel was common, and before the internet, and so it was fairly unusual for anyone to know someone from abroad. Back then, the concept of writing to someone living in a different country was extraordinarily exciting and exotic. I can remember feeling thrilled at the idea.

Idette came over to visit me in our teenage years, and I also went over to visit her (this wasn’t a school thing; it was just due to being penfriends). I was a teenager at the time and most of my memories are of things I’m a bit ashamed about (refusing to speak German to her family, working during the summer holiday when she came over to visit), although none of it was badly intentioned; it was just ignorance and lack of thought on my part. I think I’ve learned a bit since then!

Apparently, Idette also visited me when I was in Cologne in the early 80s on my year abroad while at University, but I have no memory of this at all. It’s quite scary. And since then we haven’t seen each other, so that's thirty years gone by. But we've kept in contact, changing from letters to email as technology developed and nowadays mostly via facebook.

Idette really needs to take the credit for keeping the correspondence going all these years, and I’m so glad she persevered with me. Nevertheless, this was going to be the year where I would visit – I flew across this last weekend as the Netherlands are just a short flight from Zurich.

And I had a fabulous time. It was strange to see her again after all those years. The family picked me up from the airport and her daughter was driving the car (her daughter is old enough to drive a car!!). Her husband was so pleasant, too, and Idette and I chatted away in the back of the car on the journey to her house. I felt no awkwardness; it was just lovely.

I was welcomed into her family; it was her son’s birthday on the Sunday (happy birthday again, Bas!) – he was just turning twenty. Fabienne (her daughter) was in a serious relationship, so I met her boyfriend as well, since he was pretty much part of the family, too. And I patted the dog, a beagle, who was just adorable. 

We pretty much just sat and ate and chatted for the entire time, but I can’t describe how good it was to catch up. They fed me on “Bolsse Bollen” (spelled wrongly; I’ve never seen this written – they are like huge chocolate profiteroles), which I remembered absolutely loving from when I visited her before as they are so delicious. Idette remembered doughnuts in Oxford, so it seems that food creates lasting memories (any memory experts out there?). Having said that, I’d completely forgotten that she too was a non-cheese eater (as was also her husband), which just shows how well I choose my friends.

My food memories from this time will be an onion sauce that tastes quite sweet and goes beautifully with "Flemish" chips (thick chips, not thin French fries). To my surprise, the sauce came out of the squeezy bottle in a yellow colour. And then on my morning bread I tried some speculoos spread. I knew the biscuits (which actually I don't like that much), but not the spread. It was also good; maybe a bit sweeter than the biscuits, but a similar flavour. And apparently the Dutch put sprinkles on their bread - yes, chocolate sprinkles! Isn't that weird? I'd have taken a photo, but I was too busy eating.

The “children”, who are adults, were amazing – so considerate, polite, and such good people. I wish I’d had their maturity at that age (or even now!). I’d love to know how Idette has managed this miracle. It was extremely rewarding to see everyone so content and in such a good place.

Anyway, I'm now determined to be a better correspondent and I'm filled with an inner happiness at seeing how well everything’s turned out for Idette and her family.

St Moritz - White Turf

St Moritz - Skijoerking

Well, I went to the White Dinner, and now I’ve been to White Turf. These are two very different events!

I’ve been to White Turf several times before and wanted to grab the opportunity to go again while I was having a year in Switzerland. At this event, the horses race, not on green turf, but on the frozen lake of St Moritz. Even the spectators watch the event on what should be a lake. That’s how cold it gets.

We took the train to get there, changing at Chur, and then sat in the panorama carriage from Chur to St Moritz (drinking champagne and eating cheese and chocolate). The panorama carriage has windows stretching up across the ceiling so that you are bathed in light and get the full view of everything around you. St Moritz is in the south of Switzerland – but because of the higher altitude, it’s colder.

At this time of year, everything should really be snow covered for most of the journey, but this year it wasn’t until we were nearly there that we could start to see that the ground was fully snowed over. White Turf had been cancelled the previous week (it’s held for three Sundays in February each year), so with the lack of visible snow, we were becoming concerned that we would arrive and find it wouldn’t run.

When we got there, it was cloudy with snow falling, although the platform was ice- and snow-free (unlike in previous years). But with the snowflakes all around me, I felt I was finally experiencing a proper winter. 

White Turf is positioned as an up-market event, so you see many people in fur coats, there’s an oyster and champagne bar, and I saw a few Rolls Royces. It’s not unusual for people to bring their dogs with them, either. Multiple white, tented stalls sell food (including more down-market sausages and Chinese); others sell art and there’s usually a stand for cars, but I didn’t see that one this year. However, I did spot a horseshoe throwing competition, which was new to me.

You can sit on chairs on a podium (for a premium), or you can have a standing place by the ringside. Some races are peculiar to White Turf, or at least peculiar to horse racing on the snow; there’s skijoerking (pictured, to save me trying to explain it, although in the race the jockey's legs are  splayed out in a V-shape and he leans back) and also a race where they ski behind the horse as the way to guide it.

Although the event wasn’t cancelled (they got a lot of bad press for the previous week’s cancellation), the races were shortened, one race remained with only one competitor (subsequently declared the winner), another race was cancelled. There were long waits between races due to “technical issues” and it seemed that several jockeys were unwilling to enter their horses.

Puddles formed by the fence where people were standing. I’d never seen that before, either. It was fun to take in the atmosphere and to watch all the people, but the waits for the races were frustrating and the races were all over very quickly.

We disbanded at 3pm to go to a hotel overlooking the lake where they served a chocolate buffet and afternoon tea. Because we’d booked in advance, we managed to get one of the only two window seats. The chocolate buffet was amazing.

Feeling completely stuffed, we got the train back to arrive back in the late evening. 

This is now the third horse event I’ve been to in my year away (Ascot, Sahl Hasheesh, and now St Moritz), but all three were completely different!

Zurich - Fasnacht

Some Bar Staff at Fasnacht

The Swiss are a fairly rule-driven people, but at Fasnacht, this all changes!

I asked some people what Fasnacht (“Carnival”) was in aid of and nobody could quite answer. I looked it up on Wikipedia and apparently they didn’t know either. One option (and let’s go for this one) is that it marks the last night before fasting starts (ie, Lent). Nowadays, it happens usually some time in February and the dates are different from Kanton to Kanton.

It’s a peculiarly Swiss tradition and is at its most famous in Basel. There’s not so much celebration of it in Zurich, but weirdly a small village called Bassersdorf then becomes famous for this one short period as the place to go for Fasnacht in Zurich and beyond.

I remember being on the train one night in Zurich at this time of year and it was the train that takes you up the Zurichberg; during the journey, they suddenly turned off all the lights in the train. I thought we were stranded and panicked a bit, but then realized how beautiful it was outside – the lights of the city were twinkling down below and you could see the stars above in the darkness. It was a magical moment. It was a little Fasnacht treat.

Anyway, this year, I went to Bassersdorf to join in the Fasnacht celebrations. The event consists of various tents set up as bars. Everyone dresses up in costumes. There don’t appear to be any rules about what the costume should be, but the vast majority of people do go in fancy dress. This year, there were men dressed as babies, various animals (tiger, penguin, emu, giraffe), various nationalities and characters (Viking, Eskimo), horror figures (zombies, devils), or just plain weird was also fine. Music is playing, people drink, and bands come round from tent to tent.

The bands play a special type of music that you hear only at this time of year called “Guggenmusik”. It’s quite hard to explain. The bands typically consist mostly of brass band music (trumpets, horns, etc), drums, and cymbals. They play “deutsche Schlager”, or “oom pah pah” music as the Brits would probably describe it, and also modern hits. However, they are played with a bit of a twist. It all sounds slightly out of tune and gives the impression of being spontaneous and improvised. It’s a bit of an acquired taste and you might think it’s something that’s gone horribly wrong, but actually it’s how it’s supposed to be. The bands spend the entire year practicing for their performance at these events and they go all round Switzerland to perform. I actually really like it as it’s associated with some very good memories.

A group of us met up beforehand, ate, had some champagne, then got changed into our costumes and went. We ended up staying mostly in the largest tent. To my complete surprise, Kelly Braendli (used to work in my previous company) was serving at the bar (I can hear Yuen and Gerard gasping as I write!). Zurich can really be quite a small place at times. More people came as the night went on, including people that at least some of us knew.

Somehow, I’m not quite sure how it happened, but someone ended up tapping my shoulder and asking me to lead the conga line that had built up. I should probably have refused, but I’d had a bit to drink, so joined in and before I knew it I was leading 60 strangers round the packed tent and getting myself into a right muddle. The guy behind me, who was originally the leader, spoke to me twice, once when I reached a dead end and didn’t know what to do, so made everyone do a 180 degree turn, and once at the end of the dance. Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand him, so I wasn’t exactly responsive. I have a strange feeling that maybe I wasn’t doing the right thing.

By the end of the evening, everyone was standing and dancing on the benches, swinging side to side, arm in arm, all very merry and convivial. The atmosphere was friendly and as inhibitions went down, strangers were more and more likely to talk to you. The age range was mixed; some children were even present. It was enough to make you think that the human race can be pretty fantastic at times.

Zurich - Writing Arabic

Practice Makes Perfect!

My Arabic classes resumed in January. In the classes our teacher always writes on the board in Arabic and I’m generally not confident enough to copy it down. Also, even if I do copy it down, I’m never quite sure I can read what I’ve written, so I transliterate it as well, thinking that I can piece the two together afterwards. Unfortunately, this is a lot of work to do in little time, as I need to concentrate on what he’s saying next as well, so I lose a lot.

Consequently, over the holidays, I’d decided to start practicing writing in Arabic. I had a book in Egypt that I bought ages ago called “Mastering Arabic Script”, so I’d waited until I was back there for my holidays so that I could work through this book. Looking at it briefly, it brought back memories of learning to write as a child – all the rows of letters you had to write, line after line. I can remember finding it quite dull and itching to move on!

Anyway, I hadn’t paid enough attention to the title of the book. The word “mastering” implies that you already have some knowledge and so the book was really teaching you how to handwrite in Arabic, which is different from the typed lettering. Apparently, at school, in the Arabic countries, children learn to write the typed lettering first and then look forward to learning how to do the handwriting much later at around the age of nine (I guess a bit like looking forward to doing joined-up writing, although joined-up writing isn’t so very different, whereas the handwritten Arabic is quite a change from the typed script).

As a result, the waiting was in vain, as I ended up ignoring the book after just a few chapters because I needed to get my head round how to write the typed script first. The workbook that comes with the book we’re using in class has quite a few writing exercises, so I worked through them, thinking it would also be a good vocabulary reminder.

It’s quite hard to correct yourself, as you don’t necessarily notice all your mistakes. I think my most common mistakes were to forget to use the different letter form at the end of a word (I tended to mistakenly use the one that came in the middle of the word), to notice that some letters (particularly at the end of the word) go below the line, and to fathom out how to write “l” and “a” when they come together in the middle of a word as it seems to differ as to whether the preceding letter is joined to the previous one or not and whether it’s a standalone combination.

Although I feel I would find learning new vocabulary more useful than learning to write, I could see the benefit of learning to write. It made me focus much more on the word’s pronunciation. For example, there are three “t” sounds in Arabic and I don’t really differentiate them enough when I try to speak. Consequently, when I’m trying to spell a word, I will often use the wrong “t”; to spell correctly, I have to be more aware of which sound it is. I’m not sure whether Arabic children would have the same difficulty as presumably for them the difference in sounds is much clearer than it is for my foreign ear.

It’s also surprisingly hard to write different letter forms where you’ve had no practice. Some letters had to be written in a slightly different way when working from left-to-right than right-to-left. For example, when writing a “g” shape I would normally start at the top of the top loop and go anti-clockwise; in Arabic, going from left-to-right, it’s easier to start at the bottom of the loop and circle clockwise.

I think all the practice did help me quite a bit, even just in being able to read my teacher’s writing more easily having now seen my own variations on the theme, but I can’t say I’m exactly a confident writer yet!