Welcome to Wander We Go. I’m Alex.
I write about life in Zürich, travels throughout Europe, and musings on both.
All tagged expat
I’m at the point. THE point. If you’ve learned a foreign language, you know this point. The point when you can understand much more than you have the ability to speak. Even if I don’t recognize every word of German that is spoken, I can generally understand the comprehensive meaning of what was said. However, when I’m left to my own devices to reproduce the words, I’m at a loss. Ugh. Welcome to phase two.
Apartment living can sometimes be more than just a place to lay your head and store your things: it can be an adventure in of itself. I have such fond memories of every place I’ve lived, and in some ways, each one has become a framework of that specific stage of my life. That apartment, this neighborhood, that landlord, this roommate. Each apartment comes with it’s own quicks, intricacies, and sometimes, a mirror to reflect the culture of the city itself. Swiss apartments, in this way, are no different.
Summer afternoons, it seems the shades of blue are undecided, too lovely for nature to choose just one. The sky and the sun compromise, picking a new blue each day: turquoise, robin’s egg, canary, the deepest of navy, the lightest of aquamarine, sometimes a solid hue, mostly blended, always radiant. It shimmers and it beckons. Coyly, almost suggestively.
The first class was rough. Actually, rough is putting it lightly. The first class was a train-wreck. Even though I’d been in Zurich for six months - and I’m embarrassed to admit this - I hadn’t picked up any bit of the language at all. Not Swiss German, and definitely not hochdeutsch.
We are peeling back the layers of this city, debunking myth after Swiss myth. One of the greatest discoveries? Zurich, this big little buttoned-up city, has more than meets the eye. In fact, it is pretty cool!
Moving to a new country is a bit like living in Newton’s Third Law - for every small victory there is an equal and opposite faux pas. I’m remembering to celebrate even the smallest of wins, and laugh off the mistakes as expat rites of passage.
