You’re Still Here? It’s Over!

Remember, I’m done with this blog. No more entries here. If you want to find out about the honeymoon and how my life continues in Switzyland, make sure to check out my new blog The Honeymoon Life.

Ferris Bueller said it best:

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How The Swiss Think I’m Not Qualified to Get A Masters Degree in Business… Despite That I Already HAVE a Masters in Business

I try my hardest to stay upbeat and positive and somewhat non-judgy when I disagree with how the Swiss handle something that would have been handled “differently” (aka better) in America. I talk to myself like your therapist probably talks to you, calmly explaining to myself that diversity is good and that they surely have a very good reason for why they do it the way that they do it. And besides, I rationalize with myself, this is a good opportunity for me to learn to think differently and grow. In this instance though, I need your help. Please be my rationality and help to me understand!

Here’s the scoop: I called the University of Zurich the other day to ask about their PhD programs. I’m getting better at knowing how the Swiss think, so I was already prepared for them to tell me that my US degrees were subpar and that I would need to take additional coursework for them to be considered “equal” to a Swiss degree. Heck, I wasn’t sure if they would tell me I needed a whole new Masters, which I was willing to consider. Not happy about it, but it is what it is. But then, this is the conversation I ended up having:

——-

Me: Hello, I’m interested in applying for your Business PhD program. I have an MBA in Marketing from the US, but instead of writing a culminating thesis, I conducted a consulting project instead. I also have a Bachelors degree that was not in Business, but rather in American Political Science. I wanted to double check to see if there is some additional coursework I might need to fulfill before I can apply to the PhD program.

Admissions Lady at University of Zurich: I’m sorry but you are not prepared for a PhD program. An MBA is not a real Masters degree, and you will need a Masters degree to get accepted to the PhD program.

Me: Okay… so, if I already have an MBA, but you said the University does not consider it a Masters degree, what other Masters degree program would you suggest I apply for? It wouldn’t make sense to get a degree I sort of already have.

Admissions Lady : How about a Masters in Economics?

Me: Hmmm… but my field of practice is actually in Marketing. I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in Economics or really using Economics.

Admissions Lady : We do not offer a Masters degree in Marketing. But I am not sure if you will be accepted to the Masters program for Economics because your Bachelors is not focused in Business. You will have to apply and see if you get accepted, I’m not sure. But the MBA should help your application. 

——

So, Switzerland, let me get this straight:
1. My Masters degree is not a “real” Masters degree to you.
2. I may not be qualified to be accepted into your “real” Masters degree program.
3. What *may* help my application to your “real” Masters degree program is THE FACT THAT I ALREADY HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE!!!!!!!!!!!

Please, I’m begging you my dear readers, help talk me off the ledge on this one. There has to be a logical reason, right? RIGHT? The problem that I’m really struggling with about this incident is that it’s not a single, outlier incident. In fact, it’s a common incident that happens often when I try to do something in Switzerland. Remember my earlier blog post about how hard it is to get the Swiss to take my job applications seriously? All of these little stories add up to one, big, giant, heaping pile of dismay. How can I assimilate into Swiss culture better when they have built-in roadblocks to keep me out? And, no joke, how can I keep my self-esteem up when I’m constantly being told everything I’ve done isn’t good enough??

The Day Before the Big Day

In 24 hours, I’ll no longer be Lisa Epstein from San Diego or New York. I’ll be Lisa Christen from Zurich.

I think it’s normal for people to have anxiety and nerves before the big day, but I feel something completely different. More than anything else right now, I feel like I’m finally settled. My last 9 months have been quite the opposite, quite unsettling really. Living far away from Florian and my family. Knowing I was leaving San Diego, but not yet being gone. And not 100% sure where I was going to move. Qutting my job, but not having a final date. Going to Asia, not going to Asia. My dad is sick, when do I visit? How often do I visit? I’m going to Switzerland but then getting kicked out and squatting on couches in NY until I can go back to Switzerland, if I can go back. It’s very hard to make a plan and when your plans are always changing and let’s be honest, uncertainty is the best excuse for inaction.

Now, finally, tomorrow, I will be settled. This is it. My new husband, my new country, my new friends and family, my new language. I can accept that this is, 100%, now mine. I can finally say yes, I live in Switzerland. Yes, Florian is my husband. Yes, I will speak German fluently in a few months. Yes, I can make friends here. Because, finally, nothing is going to come in and interrupt my life here. I can settle.

As for doubts about my marriage to Florian, I have none. I won’t list all of the reasons I know he is the one for me for fear of causing you to vomit, but trust me on this one. He is the perfect man for me, and I know how lucky I am to have him.

The Day Before the Big Day

In 24 hours, I’ll no longer be Lisa Epstein from San Diego or New York. I’ll be Lisa Christen from Zurich.

I think it’s normal for people to have anxiety and nerves before the big day, but I feel something completely different. More than anything else right now, I feel like I’m finally settled. My last 9 months have been quite the opposite, quite unsettling really. Living far away from Florian and my family. Knowing I was leaving San Diego, but not yet being gone. And not 100% sure where I was going to move. Qutting my job, but not having a final date. Going to Asia, not going to Asia. My dad is sick, when do I visit? How often do I visit? I’m going to Switzerland but then getting kicked out and squatting on couches in NY until I can go back to Switzerland, if I can go back. It’s very hard to make a plan and when your plans are always changing and let’s be honest, uncertainty is the best excuse for inaction.

Now, finally, tomorrow, I will be settled. This is it. My new husband, my new country, my new friends and family, my new language. I can accept that this is, 100%, now mine. I can finally say yes, I live in Switzerland. Yes, Florian is my husband. Yes, I will speak German fluently in a few months. Yes, I can make friends here. Because, finally, nothing is going to come in and interrupt my life here. I can settle.

As for doubts about my marriage to Florian, I have none. I won’t list all of the reasons I know he is the one for me for fear of causing you to vomit, but trust me on this one. He is the perfect man for me, and I know how lucky I am to have him.

I Am Now Definitely, Officially, an FOB

For those of you unfamiliar with the term “FOB”, it’s a loving reference used by Americans to describe newly arrived imigrants to the country – someone who is Fresh Off the Boat. Although Switzerland is geographically landlocked, I’m definitely an FOB here.

Here was the incident that makes me sure I’m an official FOB: I was out having coffee in the city (Zurich) and my phone wasn’t working properly so I restarted it. BIG mistake. Here, your SIM card auto locks when you turn on your phone and requires a password. For a girl who went a year without locking her front door, I’m obviously not the person to know my telpehone-company-assigned SIM card autolock password. This served to be a critical problem on several fronts: As all of you know, I am “directionally challenged” and would get lost inside of a cardboard box on a good day – on a bad day I’d get lost in my front yard. Right so no working phone, no working GPS, and no access to the app that tells me my public transportation route home… a deadly combination.

But I’m feeling inexplicably resilient today and channel McGuyver into my body. Come on, Lisa, you can remember which trolley and which bus you need to take! Yes! I did it!!! I got to my bus stop just in time to catch the 8:30. Or rather, to find out that my bus stops running at 8:30 and there is no bus coming. But not a problem for the stealthy version of me: I keep a set of emergency phone numbers, addresses, and taxi fares printed in my purse for exactly this kind of moment! I feel like McGuyver crossed with a boy scout as I head to the payphones. Which, oh… only take credit card. And Americans can’t have Swiss bank accounts and credit cards, meaning I don’t have a credit card, meaning I can’t use the phones.

WWMcGD? I scour the crazy train, tram, and bus routes and find a new bus to take. Bravo!. Genius! I found one that gets me home. Although, as any non-FOB would know, where the bus drops you off at a station is not the place the bus picks you up at the station. In fact, the bus stop I was supposed to stand at is about 500 yards up the road, away from the station, outside of a gas station. Obviously. So I watched as my savior bus drove by me without stopping, since it had already stopped and picked up all the non-FOB passengers already.

McG would finally find a station with a payphone that takes coins! Or at least that’s what I did. I put in a 5 Franc coin and dialed my hubby. Florian, as basically every horror story here ends with, saved the day. He hopped in the car and picked me up in 10 minutes, 2 hours after I started my attempt to come home.  Frugal people will appreciate this last tidbit: when the 1 Franc call was over, me being an FOB and all, I attemped to get my 4 Francs change from the pay phone. HA!

Other sure signs I’m an FOB: 1) In my last post, I spelled the highway system here as “Audobon” which is, in fact, only an American society whose mission is to conserve natural bird ecosystems. The much more obvious and correct spelling for here in German is “Autobahn” , which loosely means cars drive. 2) I tried to make a joke on my Facebook post about how smart I am and purposely spelled “sehr” wrong. I did not, however, structure the sentence incorrectly. That was just my FOB-ness shining through. Joke’s on me!!!

But I still love, love, love Zurich and I don’t hold my stupidity against the Swiss 🙂

I Am Now Definitely, Officially, an FOB

For those of you unfamiliar with the term “FOB”, it’s a loving reference used by Americans to describe newly arrived imigrants to the country – someone who is Fresh Off the Boat. Although Switzerland is geographically landlocked, I’m definitely an FOB here.

Here was the incident that makes me sure I’m an official FOB: I was out having coffee in the city (Zurich) and my phone wasn’t working properly so I restarted it. BIG mistake. Here, your SIM card auto locks when you turn on your phone and requires a password. For a girl who went a year without locking her front door, I’m obviously not the person to know my telpehone-company-assigned SIM card autolock password. This served to be a critical problem on several fronts: As all of you know, I am “directionally challenged” and would get lost inside of a cardboard box on a good day – on a bad day I’d get lost in my front yard. Right so no working phone, no working GPS, and no access to the app that tells me my public transportation route home… a deadly combination.

But I’m feeling inexplicably resilient today and channel McGuyver into my body. Come on, Lisa, you can remember which trolley and which bus you need to take! Yes! I did it!!! I got to my bus stop just in time to catch the 8:30. Or rather, to find out that my bus stops running at 8:30 and there is no bus coming. But not a problem for the stealthy version of me: I keep a set of emergency phone numbers, addresses, and taxi fares printed in my purse for exactly this kind of moment! I feel like McGuyver crossed with a boy scout as I head to the payphones. Which, oh… only take credit card. And Americans can’t have Swiss bank accounts and credit cards, meaning I don’t have a credit card, meaning I can’t use the phones.

WWMcGD? I scour the crazy train, tram, and bus routes and find a new bus to take. Bravo!. Genius! I found one that gets me home. Although, as any non-FOB would know, where the bus drops you off at a station is not the place the bus picks you up at the station. In fact, the bus stop I was supposed to stand at is about 500 yards up the road, away from the station, outside of a gas station. Obviously. So I watched as my savior bus drove by me without stopping, since it had already stopped and picked up all the non-FOB passengers already.

McG would finally find a station with a payphone that takes coins! Or at least that’s what I did. I put in a 5 Franc coin and dialed my hubby. Florian, as basically every horror story here ends with, saved the day. He hopped in the car and picked me up in 10 minutes, 2 hours after I started my attempt to come home.  Frugal people will appreciate this last tidbit: when the 1 Franc call was over, me being an FOB and all, I attemped to get my 4 Francs change from the pay phone. HA!

Other sure signs I’m an FOB: 1) In my last post, I spelled the highway system here as “Audobon” which is, in fact, only an American society whose mission is to conserve natural bird ecosystems. The much more obvious and correct spelling for here in German is “Autobahn” , which loosely means cars drive. 2) I tried to make a joke on my Facebook post about how smart I am and purposely spelled “sehr” wrong. I did not, however, structure the sentence incorrectly. That was just my FOB-ness shining through. Joke’s on me!!!

But I still love, love, love Zurich and I don’t hold my stupidity against the Swiss 🙂

Nothing’s More Important than Family

It’s true what they say – getting terrible news feels like getting punched in the stomach. You can’t breathe. Your body is stunned and your head is spinning and you can’t make sense of what’s happening. The sensation is sudden and urgent, but your body is weak and inept at responding quickly enough.  You feel helpless.

Earlier this week, out of the blue, I received a call from my mom that my dad had been taken to the hospital with chest pains and needed to have immediate sextuple bypass surgery. I was torn whether to fly out immediately and see him: my parents insisted that I should not come right away because my Dad really didn’t want me to see him in a way that might change my memories of him. I wanted to be there to support them but I also wanted to respect their wishes.  And sure, my Mom was there for him, but who was there for my Mom? Both my sisters were out of the country and my brother also lives out of state, so nobody else was around to be there with them. I was torn.

And for many reasons stretching far beyond this moment, I’m still torn. For the first time since I left home at 17, I felt the distance I was from my family and began to understand what it means for me to permanently move across the world. Permanently. As in, I will always be far away in times when my parents and siblings needs me the most.  But my future family is starting in Switzerland.  How do I find the balance of supporting families who live across the globe from each other?

Update: My brave Dad seems to be doing well after surgery and I’ll be flying home to see him and my Mom and siblings this weekend. Big thanks to my awesome boss Lisa for being flexible and letting me work remotely with the only caveat being to focus on my family first.

Nothing’s More Important than Family

It’s true what they say – getting terrible news feels like getting punched in the stomach. You can’t breathe. Your body is stunned and your head is spinning and you can’t make sense of what’s happening. The sensation is sudden and urgent, but your body is weak and inept at responding quickly enough.  You feel helpless.

Earlier this week, out of the blue, I received a call from my mom that my dad had been taken to the hospital with chest pains and needed to have immediate sextuple bypass surgery. I was torn whether to fly out immediately and see him: my parents insisted that I should not come right away because my Dad really didn’t want me to see him in a way that might change my memories of him. I wanted to be there to support them but I also wanted to respect their wishes.  And sure, my Mom was there for him, but who was there for my Mom? Both my sisters were out of the country and my brother also lives out of state, so nobody else was around to be there with them. I was torn.

And for many reasons stretching far beyond this moment, I’m still torn. For the first time since I left home at 17, I felt the distance I was from my family and began to understand what it means for me to permanently move across the world. Permanently. As in, I will always be far away in times when my parents and siblings needs me the most.  But my future family is starting in Switzerland.  How do I find the balance of supporting families who live across the globe from each other?

Update: My brave Dad seems to be doing well after surgery and I’ll be flying home to see him and my Mom and siblings this weekend. Big thanks to my awesome boss Lisa for being flexible and letting me work remotely with the only caveat being to focus on my family first.