Livin in Lausanne

Voting rights for women

americanbear — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 10:21:09 +0200

I found it interesting to learn that Swiss women have only recently been given the right to vote! American woman were given that right in 1920 when the 19th admendment was ratified. Up to that point, women voting was very limited and was allowed only with some very strict guidelines.

In Switzerland, the right to vote was wasn't granted throughout the entire country until 1990! The canton of Vaud, where we live, gave the right to vote and stand for election in 1959 followed by the canton of Neuchâtel later in the same year. A woman named Marthe Bloch, who is 90 now and lives in the canton of Neuchâtel was recently interviewed for a Swiss news article as one of the first feminists in Switzerland. Marthe Bloch had finished her apprenticeship as a laboratory tech along with a male friend in 1959. They both applied for jobs in the canton of Argaau at Bircher, a muesli manufacturer. She was offered a lower salary than her friend and when she asked why was told that women married and didn't need to earn the same as men. Whe she asked "...if I don't get married?" she was told that it didn't change anything. If she didn't marry, she had no family to support. So, Marthe refused the job and decided to fight for equal rights.

Marthe marred shortly afterwards and moved to La Chaux-de-Fonds. Unable to find work in her field, she helped her husband with his business and brought up their children. "It meant I could be a feminist without the risk of losing my job," she said. She joined a small group of women who met regularly in a tea room to talk about their situation. The group organised meetings to inform other women. The demonstrated discreetly but that didn't prevent a stone being thrown at her head once when she and other feminists "infiltrated" a May Day procession.

A national referendum in 1959 was met with a huge negative reation, 67% against, with the cantons of Geneva, Neuchâtel, and Vaud being in favor. Marthe recalled celebrating discreetly indoors. "We were so happy, but we didn't dare draw attention to ourselves, we had our families to protect." Some women didn't take advantage of the new right being told by their husbands "Don't vote, I'll vote for us both," said Marthe. Marthe remembers that others went to vote but "It was sad to see...looking so frightened when the went to vote."

In 1960, canton Neuchâtel elected Switzerland's first female councillor and cantonal parliamentarian. That year also saw Geneva giving women the right to vote. Six more years went by before the fourth canton, Base-Stadt, did the same.

By 1971 67% of the voters sanctioned equal political rights but those rights were still non-existent in 13 cantons. The implementation of these rights was left to the cantons to decided without any deadlines. To make matters worse, some of those cantons passed decision making on to the communes. Several of the communes in Obwald, Solothurn, and Graubunden refused women their rights until the 1980s and it was only when a Federal Supreme Court decision in 1990 obliged the half canton of Appenzell Innerrhoden to implement these rights did equal suffrage become fully realized nationwide.

Shelter

americanbear — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 13:51:47 +0200

I ran across an article on the web about shelters that people have built for their families in the event of nucular war. Some of the pictures were taken in Switzerland and it got me thinking.

To look at the Swiss military, you just know if war ever broke out and Switzerland was attacked, it would be over faster than you can say "But we're neutral!". That aside, I'm learning that there seems to be a priority on the citizens here. As stated below, the entire population can be underground in 2 hours and tunnels as well as bridges can be mined nad blown in even less time should some country invade.

I was taken to visit Château de Chillon, near Montreux, shortly after arriving in the country. After the tour we were heading back to the car which was parked across the street next to the mountain. My friend stopped me and told me to look up at the side of the mountain. At first I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit me. There was something odd about part of the mountain. It looked like it was all rocky and bumpy but at the same time, flat. That's when he told me it was a door leading to tunnels in the mountainside. It looked odd because it was camouflaged to look like regular mountainside. He told me that there were kilometers of tunnels all over the country that could house the military and civilian population. There were dormitories, medical areas, command centers, etc. in them. This particular tunnel had cannons mounted near the entrance to defend the eastern half of Lac Léman (Lake Geneva for those who don't know the correct name!). There are even underground air bases.

Our apartment building has a large shelter in it. I've never been inside but have been told it's pretty deep and quite large. I know the door leading into it is massive! Bigger and thicker than the purple ones shown below. I'd hate to get locked in there by mistake!

To top it all of, the Swiss Armed Forces is made up of conscripted soldiers. For men ages 20 to 34 (I've been told it could go up to age 50 should the need arise) serve compulsary military time. For women service is voluntary. All the gear is kept at home including weapons.

Francis is doing his three weeks duty at the time of this writting. He left on Monday 4 August. It's funny to see him pull out all his gear but not so funny when he packs his pistol. Happily, he's an officer and a doctor so for him it's usually easy but boring service. He gets to come home on the weekends. He called me to let me know he had arrived safely and was bored already. He's thinking next week he'll take the PS3 with him so he can play games to give him something to do. Try doing that in the US military!

Every month (I think it's the first Tuesday) here in Lausanne you'll hear the sirens going off. Their testing the system...over and over and over...well, eventually they stop. I think I've gotten use to it because I don't hear them unless I'm outside.

All this aside, Switzerland is probably the safest feeling place I've ever lived in. You think about it when you hear the sirens but the rest of the time it never enters you mind that you could be sitting in the middle of a war someday. Nice to know you probably would be safe anyway should there ever be one.

Public shelter near Zurich, Switzerland. Major external air filters in communal shelter.

The discs produced in this factory near Zurich are the tops of air filters.

Doors of the public shelter near Zurich. Building code defines the specifications that are required of the shelters, though color schemes are optional. The entire population can be put underground in two hours. Bridges and tunnels throughout Switzerland are set with explosives to be blown in the face of an advancing enemy.

The proud owner of a new single-family residence in Switzerland shows off his shelter. He is standing in front of his Andair-manufactured air filtration system with the escape hatch on the right.

Letterman and Palin

americanbear — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 09:34:43 +0200

There seems to be a base growing on the internet to get David Letterman fired. Companies are being flooded with boycott threats if they continue advertising on his show.

How foolish. From my viewpoint the only thing Letterman did wrong was not identifying the daughter. I heard the bit and for one, never thought of any daughter but the one that did get knocked up. As far as I'm concerned, Palin does resemble a slutty airline hostess. Call it counter pc of me but that's what I think.

Palin brought all of this on the moment she walked on stage and opened her mouth. To make it worse, she paraded her unwed pregnant 17 year old daughter along with her. Someone should have warned her that once on the national stage she and her entire family were fair game.

Remember when Larry Craig made the news? Oh how the jokes flew. I don't remember hearing anyone raising a fuss over them.

Clinton...either one? Well...I won't even bother with them. Everything about them was a joke.

Dan Quayle? There isn't enough room on here to list the jokes about him.

Bush 2 and his family were nailed.

Rudy Guiliani, Mitt Romney, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Joe Biden, John Kerry, John Edwards...they were all laughed at and about. Where was the public outcry then?

Nope. No sympathy for Palin and her family from me. She made her bed and now, like her daughter, she has to lie in it.

Catch up time

americanbear — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 12:15:39 +0200

It's time, long over due time, to catch up with my blog. As I've mentioned before, I'm terrible at this! I couldn't believe it when I realized a year had passed without any posts. I blame it on living in such a quiet country.

Wait...did I say quiet? Not lately. The company that owns the building our apartment is in decided to tear down the garages in the back and build a two level parking garage for the tenants. They started this project back in January of this year. A rather large machine was brought in that reminded me of a modern dinosaur. With it's powerful jaws, wood, cement and iron rods were torn asunder. Then a smaller version was released into our backyard to play alongside it's full grown mother. Scooping up random, smaller objects, snapping cables and belching diesel fumes.

Time passed. It was fun to watch. Then one day all the machines disappeared. Had another devestating disaster caused the extiction of my beloved beasts, leaving destruction and a huge muddy mess? No one seemed to know what was going on. A month or so went by and then suddenly, one morning around 0700, we were awakened by the soft, gentle, soothing strains of a JACKHAMMER!!! Who starts using a JACKHAMMER!!! at seven in the morning???

I've read, with some amusement, posts on other forums by Brits and other expats complaining about the ringing of church bells. Oh please! I'll gladly switch and hear church bells any day...or hour for that matter. Please understand, this was not some New York city construction worker hoisting his belly over a hand operated jackhammer. This was the large dinosaur that I had watched with some interest months before...only this time not as cute. It's jaws had been replaced with a large hydraulic JACKHAMMER!!! chewing up the rock, digging down into the earth and shaking the entire building. The noise was compounded by the fact we sleep with the kitchen doors open at night for fresh air. The next couple of months were spent opening the doors to get fresh air and closing them to keep out the noise. I got pretty good at this game. Close the doors before 0700, open them whenever the JACKHAMMER!!! stopped and then close them again when it started back up. Open them at noon for an hour while the crew ate lunch. Close them at 1300 and continue playing the open/close game for the rest of the afternoon until 1700 when they could be left open until the next morning when the game renewed.

Then came the day when my dinosaur hit the water pipe. Wait, hit isn't the correct word...it was more of a nick. Not one that broke the pipe outright but weakened the casing instead. Giving the pressure in the pipe time to weaken that point enough that it would break...on a Saturday...when there were no workers around to fix it...turning our backyard into a lake. It is amazing how quickly water shooting from a broken pipe can fill a hole! This happened at least three more times although not as bad. Add to that times when we were notifed that the water would be shut off and I got pretty good at filling containers with water for cooking and washing dishes as well as saving water in the tub so we could flush the toilet.

Now we're in the middle of the month of June. The JACKHAMMER!!! is gone. In it's place, towering over the building, is a crane. I was startled one morning while in the kitchen. I turned around and saw a load of metal rods being lowered by the crane right outside my kitchen doors. Had I been on the balcony I could have reached out and touched them. Part of the back wall has been poured. Half the ground floor has been poured. The construction workers are prepping the other half as I type this. The silence is now filled with drilling, sawing, a radio, yelling and some high-pitched beeping sound coming from a small machine on a tripod. I don't have to play the door opening/closing game as often for which I'm thankful. Temps have been in the mid eighties which hasn't made having the doors closed much fun.

The good news is the construction workers no longer start at 0700...now they start at 0715.

I am so sorry...

americanbear — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 11:30:21 +0200

To everyone that left comments on my blog, my sincere apologies for not responding to you. My excuse? Well...I'm old. How's that? Lol! Not really, but I am no good with computers. It was discovered a long time ago that computers just don't like me. The support people at a company I use to work for loved me. I was their job security. We were so familier with each other that I would get Christmas cards from them, updates on the families and notifications of upcoming vacations...just so I wouldn't panic if I couldn't reach one of them.

All of that to just explain - I never noticed that I could click on the name of the person to contact them and respond.

So, if in the past you gave me a comment and I never responded, it isn't because I'm a snob. Nope. I'm just not gifted with the neccessary skills to communicate over the internet. Besides, my computer probably deleated any messages I sent just to make me look bad.

Dentist visit

americanbear — Sun, 04 May 2008 18:37:28 +0200

I had to pay a visit to the dentist on Wednesday, 23 April and have to admit I did not present myself to my partner in a very good light. I didn't want to go but Francis reasoned that I should or else the infection in my gum would just get worse. Just what I get for having a doctor for a partner.

You see, I'm terrified of dentists. Even more terrified of pain. I told him that visiting the dentist is never a good thing. Nothing ever good happens. But we went anyway. Sure enough after an x-ray the dentist said that there was a really bad infection around the root of one of my molars and it would have to come out. To make it worse, the tooth was part of a two crown and bridge combo. So not only would they have to pull the tooth but they would have to seperate the crown from the other crown and when they removed the tooth, it would leave a two tooth gap that cannot be fixed for at least two months. Oh joy. There is one other thing that scares the hell out of me and that is needles. I don't know why they bother to try and numb the area that they are going to inject the Novocaine into. It still hurts. Naturally, the needle had to go right into the area that was painful anyway. As soon as it went in, away went my brave "big boy" face and I dissolved into the biggest sissy man ever seen on the face of the planet. Three shots of Novocaine later the dentist said that they couldn't give me anymore and proceeded to pull the tooth. Well...he started to. I don't really remember how long it took. Two or three days I'm sure. But after pulling and wiggling, stopping to give me a break and starting again, out it finally came. Then came time for the sutures. Not the good ones that dissolve after time but real ones. The kind that get sewn in and require another visit to the dentist to have them removed...one week later. Another oh joy.

We left the office and went down the lift to the street where I proceeded to head to a large planter and bent over it. I spit out blood and stood there thinking I was going to put my breakfast and lunch into it and feed the plant. My head was spinning and I thought I was going to hit the pavement a couple of times. An adrenaline rush is cool but the let down from a big one is horrible. Francis was so sweet...or at least I think he was. I really don't remember much of the trip back home. I lay down on the bed. Francis got me a plastic bowl wherein I kept spitting blood and tried to keep my stomach content where it belonged. I do remember him telling me how proud he was of me and how brave I was. I sure do love him...even with all those lies he told me.

Signs of intelligence are lacking

americanbear — Sun, 04 May 2008 18:32:42 +0200

After who knows how long, bears have finally been re-introduced into the wild here in Switzerland.

Having been hunted to extinction, two brown bears were brought into the wild. One in Germany/Bavaria and it's brother plus one other bear into the canton of Graubuenden. After waking from his hibernation it seems that one of the Swiss bears started wandering into villages in search of food. During those street wanderings the bear naturally came into contact with humans. According to officials, no one has been reported hurt. Game wardens tried shooting it with rubber pellets and setting of explosions to scare it off. All actions failed in keeping this bear from entering human areas. Now, even though no one was hurt, the officials in the area decided that this bear must be declared a risk to humans, having lost it's natural fear of us. This meant that the bear had to be destroyed.

Here is where the whole lack of intelligence comes into play. In deciding that the bear was a risk to humans our wonderful Swiss authorities determined that putting the bear into a zoo was cruel. Cruel?! So killing it is the nicer thing to do? WTF??? Seems the "sharpshooters" who were assigned the task of murder had no problems finding the bear and killing it...the bear was wearing a tracking device that led them right to him. To add insult to injury, the bears body will be prepared by a taxidermist so it can be put on display...just like it's German brother's body who was killed two years ago and is now on display in a Munich museum.

What about the second bear here in Switzerland? No one knows. Seems it is staying out of sight.

The shock

americanbear — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 17:37:08 +0100

I have made a terrible discovery. The magnitude of it has shaken me to my very core. This discovery will have profound impact on me for many years to come, I’m sure. My friends in the USA will not be surprised over this self-discovery. I will probably receive many long and rambling emails from them with the usual I’m not surprised at all or I never figured you would in the first place. To all I will have to bow my head and admit my shame. I am not a blogger. There. I’ve said it. It is a hard thing to admit in this world of bloggers. All my friends post every day…some even three or four times in one day. I don’t know how they do it. They work, some many long hours, raise families, attend all kinds of sporting events, concerts, meeting and generally have a very packed schedule. What’s my excuse for not blogging? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have a lot that I could write about. I live in Switzerland for crying out loud! All the things I see and the places I go are fodder for a blogger (rhyme not intentional). My days are spent walking around or cooking. I get up the energy to break out the vacuum and run it around the floor sometimes. For something to do during the week, I started walking peoples dogs. Why am I not spending time blogging?! Is there some sort of support group I could attend…for those of us that are some how blocked from being bloggers? “Hi. My name is Rob and I’m not a blogger”. “Hi Rob!” Maybe a system of buddy support. “Hi Rob. This is your BB (Blogger Buddy). I’ve noticed you haven’t written anything so far this week. Do you need an intervention?” I could call my BB and tell him/her that I was falling off the wagon. That I felt like sitting down and writing something but at the last moment I pulled away. They would rush over, make some tea and sit down with me while I started to write. When I finished I would wipe the sweat from my forehead and we’d hug with promises to try and do better. Probably not.So, I will try to come to grips with my problem. Maybe with the help and support of my friends in the US who keep sending me e-mails asking what I’m up to, I’ll actually get better at this. Again, probably not.

Swiss cheese

americanbear — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 09:57:26 +0200

One of the things that take getting use to when it comes to living in a new country is the food. Forget that you don’t speak much of the language. Forget that some of the rules of the road are different. Forget those looks you get when the nationals find out you are a foreigner. It’s the food. Sure, some of the ingredients that you are use to buying in stores back home are available here, once you figure out what that label is saying but some things just are not readily available. So you try substituting other things in the hopes they work. I remember the first time I tried to buy what is called Swiss cheese back in the states. I walked into the Migros store in my neighborhood and was immediately lost when I tried to find it. Who know there could be so many types of cheese crammed in one location? I looked and looked for Swiss cheese only to finally give up and see if I could find someone that spoke English. That in itself is a task. Okay…I know I’m big…well…bigger than most Swiss people…and that I tend to look a bit intimidating to some, but I’m really a nice guy. Honest! Is that any reason to avoid talking to me when I’m in your shop wanting to buy something?! Anyway, after the usual “No, I do not speak English” replies, (funny how they can always say that in clear and very understandable English) I was finally given over to a young man who looked like he was wishing he had stayed in the stockroom. We were back in front of the cheese section and I told him I was looking for Swiss cheese. The look on his face as he ingested my request and started fighting the battle in his head on what to say became my defining moment of living in Switzerland. “Monsieur,” he said, apparently deciding that I was a mental deficient. “They are all Swiss cheese.”Yes, cheese became my enemy that day. It was inevitable that something should...but cheese? I have a number of recipes that involve cheese…cheese that cannot be, or maybe it would be better to say have not been, found here in Switzerland. One is extra sharp cheddar cheese. Without it, my mother’s macaroni and cheese recipe just isn’t the same. I’ve tried a number of different cheeses in the attempt to find one that is a good substitute. First thing I learned is that goat cheese will never work…for anything. After some trial and error…mostly error…I found that Gruyere seemed to work best. I just have to not use any salt at all and it’s almost as good as if there was cheddar being used.The next time cheese came to battle me was when some friends took me for my first fondue experience in Switzerland. I have come to understand that for most Swiss, tradition is very important. One of my friends here seems to always start any discourse on Swiss things with a phrase I’ve come to dread. “Oh! Now this is very traditional Swiss…” and off he goes. Naturally he was in attendance when we went to Chalet Suisse for my initiation to fondue, Swiss style. A number of air dried meat platters were ordered for starters and the conversation was focused on me and my fondue experiences from the past. I was given the choice of going with the cheese fondue or with something called Raclette which was served with potatoes. Being that I was there for the “traditional” Swiss fondue I chose that. This choice was met with swift assurances that it was a wise choice and that I would be able to sample the Raclette being ordered by others. I sat back, safe in the knowledge that I was being accepted by these people. Seeing the warmth shining in their eyes as they switched to French to, as I could only guess, comment and heap praise on me for my wonderful selection. Finally! I was no longer the outsider, the foreigner, the one brought to this country to destroy it! Time to order drinks. “Coke avec glaçon, s’il vous plaît.” Is it actually possible for time to stop? In any disaster situations I’ve ever seen on the news, survivors always seem to say how at the moment the tornado stuck, the train left the tracks or the plane slammed into the ground, time stopped for them. Everything slows down. Seconds ticking by seem like hours. That’s the way it was for me after ordering a Coke with ice. All the goodwill that had been generated by my ordering of the fondue evaporated as quickly as I imagine the alcohol in kirsch does when it hits the bubbling cheese in the fondue. Conversation came to a halt not only at our table but at the ones immediately surrounding us. I watched as the waiter clutched at his chest trying to fight off an emanate heart attack. The elderly lady seated at the table next to me did a graceful slide from her chair as she fainted. I’m not sure if it was my imagination but I seem to remember that two Swiss dogs at a neighbouring table started to howl in despair. Finally the flow of time returned to normal and I was faced with shocked faces laced with extreme concern. Didn’t I know that one should never drink cold beverages with fondue? Did I have a death wish? Why, the cheese will turn to stone and block all of my bodily functions!! I would face a horrific and extremely painful stomach ache at the bare minimum. I started to explain that back in the states that is what I always had to drink with fondue…well Pepsi anyway…and it had never bothered me…nor anyone else I knew. Then I stopped. What would be the point of trying to explain all of that to them? I was the foreigner here. Tradition held that I drink hot tea or white wine. There were no other options in the minds of my table mates. Yielding to peer pressure is something that I had never done, even as a child. Yet now it was necessary if I was to leave the restaurant alive. I made my apologies to the entire restaurant; made sure the waiter was okay, helped revive the elderly lady at the next table and rolled onto my back in a submissive attitude to the Swiss dogs…then ordered hot tea.

My first post

americanbear — Thu, 13 Sep 2007 07:10:16 +0200

I'm new to this world of blogs. Being 51 makes me an old dog learning new tricks I guess. This started actually a couple of weeks ago. It just took me this long to actually find where to start writing! There is no doubt in my mind as this gets underway that I'll make tons of mistakes. Not really that computer literate so if the server crashes or the internet goes down...

One of my first introductions to Swiss living was an article posted on the internet. Never hug a Swiss cow. After reading it, I copied it to my computer so that I could email it to some of my friends back home. Glad I kept it. Seems like a good way to start off my blog.

Never hug a Swiss cow, hikers told

'Reports of unpleasant meetings' with cattle prompt new ground rules

Updated: 12:08 p.m. ET Aug. 29, 2006

GENEVA, Switzerland - Keep your distance. Avoid eye contact. And even if it looks cute, never hug a Swiss cow.

Responding to numerous reports of unpleasant meetings between hikers and cattle along Switzerlands picture-perfect Alpine trails this summer, the Swiss Hiking Federation has laid down a few ground rules.

Leave the animals in peace and do not touch them. Never caress a calf, according to the groups guidance, posted on the Web site www.swisshiking.ch.

Do not scare the animals or look them directly in the eye. Do not wave sticks. Give a precise blow to the muzzle of the cow in the event of absolute need, it advises.

Evelyne Zaugg of the Swiss Hiking Federation said that while there were no precise statistics on incidents involving cows, walkers are reporting more run-ins than a few years ago.

She said new rearing practices, where the animals spend less time around farmers and wander in pastures with little human interaction, were partly to blame for the anti-social behavior.

How to react?
Many walkers also panic when confronted by cattle.

Hikers lose reality about the cows. They dont know how to react when a cow appears, Zaugg said.

If approached by a cow, the hiking association recommends that walkers remain calm and slowly leave the area without turning their backs on the animal.

Michel Darbellay of the Service for the Prevention of Agricultural Accidents, a private group that helped produce the Swiss Hiking Federations lowdown, said walkers had little to fear if they stayed 20 to 50 yards from any cow.

But dogs attract cow trouble, he warned.

Mother cows consider dogs a threat to their calves and tend to respond aggressively to their presence. It is when the dogs retreat towards their owners that walkers are most likely to face a charging cow, Darbellay said.

The best practice is to maintain a fair distance and keep dogs on a leash, he said.