The Lady Who Lunches

I just got back from lunch with Ryan and his new coworkers. It's funny to see him around them. He talks a lot slower and enunciates. They were all very nice... interested in answering our questions and helping us in any way possible. They told me about a tour we could take on Saturday, explained the menu choices, showed me the nearest English bookstore, etc. I'm always careful around Swiss people, though. Not just because of the language barrier, but because we've been told they're very (personally) conservative, and my goal (especially in front of people from his office) is to not come across looking inappropriate. I asked if they lived nearby, inquired about schools in the area, and talked about hobbies. What I really wanted to know is if any of them wanted a new friend, or if they cried when they first moved here too. I wanted to know if they actually paid these prices for clothes or was there a TJ Maxx around here I didn't know about. I wanted to take a poll and see if anyone actually uses bidets, but I had a feeling poop and pee should not be part of our conversation.

On my walk back, I had my first connection with people on the street. There were four older women eating ice cream on a bench who were unsuccsessfully trying to take their own picture. One of them sort of nodded at me, probably suggesting they should ask for my help. I offered it, and took their picture. I'll tell you why this is amazing - with all the time I spend walking around, no one so much as looks at me. I'm not kidding, and I'm not sure why this is. I try to make eye contact and smile, but they just stare back at me. Not these women. They thanked me profusely (in English - I think they could tell I was American even though I answered their Thank You's with Prego), and it sort of brought tears to my eyes.

I'm sure it's just the end of a long week, one that I'm ready to be over so I can have some company during the day. It might have something to do with the fact that I've started reading 1 Dead in the Attic again, because it reminds me of home. You have to be in a strange mental state for that book to give you a warm and fuzzy feeling. But it does. I wish people here would call me baby, or rock a funky butt to the music on the street. Not in Switzerland. That would REALLY be inappropriate.