The World Cup has started, and the entire world, minus Antarctica and the U.S., is entirely caught up in soccer fever (sorry, I suppose that I ought to say "football fever," since everyone else calls it football). People ask me if I'm going to watch any of the games, or if I'm rooting for any particular team, and I explain that no, I'm not really interested in the World Cup, but it's not because I'm American, it's just that I'm generally uninterested in most spectator sports. If I wasn't into football, basketball, or baseball in the States, it shouldn't be much of a surprise that I'm not terribly excited about the World Cup.
Apparently, I'm not alone. It is so commonplace that husbands or boyfriends become so engrossed in the games that their wives and girlfriends become "World Cup widows." Switzerland's tourism industry is trying to capitalize on that phenomenon, as evidenced by a series of ads placed in in-flight magazines in the preceding months, which depict rugged Swiss men with pitchforks, cows, hiking gear, and other assorted props and costumes that have no relation to soccer. The text reads: "Dear girls, why not escape this summer's World Cup to a country where men spend less time on football and more on you."
First of all, I'm not sure that most women would prefer to spend the World Cup hanging out with a strange man and his cows. Second of all, I'm not sure that the men in Switzerland are actually uninterested in the World Cup. Switzerland is in the World Cup (having rather amazingly bumped Turkey out), and there is World Cup paraphernalia on sale all over Zurich. Every bar that has a TV has signs outside advertising that they are showing live World Cup games. Instead of the usual giant Ferris wheel, the city has put up an outdoor movie screen with bleachers and vendors, so that the crowds can watch the games for free. If there is a game going on, even during working hours, I can hear shouts and cheers coming through my office window, from somewhere in the city. If anything, I think Swiss men have more opportunity to watch the World Cup than elsewhere, since so many people finish their working day by 5, in plenty of time to catch the evening games.
Summer has arrived in earnest. Clear skies, flip flops, skirts, sunglasses, daylight until 10 p.m., ice cream, cook-outs by the lake, terrace parties, they've all come back again, and it's about time. As I've mentioned before, air conditioning is not very common in Switzerland (or in Europe, in general), which is not as bad as it sounds, since summers here are less humid, and Swiss August is nothing like New York August or Chicago August. On the other hand, it can be difficult to sleep when you're hot, and an air conditioner would sometimes be a rather handy thing to have.
With that in mind, I bought a small air conditioner to use in my bedroom when it gets too hot to sleep, and I decided it was time to install it. I realized that needed a longer exhaust hose, as the one that came with the unit was too short, and that I'd need to find a way to cover the opening for the skylight that I'll be using to vent the air conditioner. So I went to the Swiss equivalent of Home Depot with two goals: a longer exhaust hose and a piece of plywood cut to my skylight's dimensions, with a hole cut out for the vent. And then I realized that it was going to be more difficult than anticipated. The employees there speak no English, no French, no Chinese, and little high German, so I was stuck trying to explain what I wanted in a weak combination of high German and Swiss German. (Upon further reflection, I'm not even sure that I would have fared any better in French or Chinese, since my home improvement vocab outside of English is, well, non-existent). How many languages can you say "I'd like a longer exhaust hose for my air conditioner" in?
Apparently, I'm not alone. It is so commonplace that husbands or boyfriends become so engrossed in the games that their wives and girlfriends become "World Cup widows." Switzerland's tourism industry is trying to capitalize on that phenomenon, as evidenced by a series of ads placed in in-flight magazines in the preceding months, which depict rugged Swiss men with pitchforks, cows, hiking gear, and other assorted props and costumes that have no relation to soccer. The text reads: "Dear girls, why not escape this summer's World Cup to a country where men spend less time on football and more on you."
First of all, I'm not sure that most women would prefer to spend the World Cup hanging out with a strange man and his cows. Second of all, I'm not sure that the men in Switzerland are actually uninterested in the World Cup. Switzerland is in the World Cup (having rather amazingly bumped Turkey out), and there is World Cup paraphernalia on sale all over Zurich. Every bar that has a TV has signs outside advertising that they are showing live World Cup games. Instead of the usual giant Ferris wheel, the city has put up an outdoor movie screen with bleachers and vendors, so that the crowds can watch the games for free. If there is a game going on, even during working hours, I can hear shouts and cheers coming through my office window, from somewhere in the city. If anything, I think Swiss men have more opportunity to watch the World Cup than elsewhere, since so many people finish their working day by 5, in plenty of time to catch the evening games.
Summer has arrived in earnest. Clear skies, flip flops, skirts, sunglasses, daylight until 10 p.m., ice cream, cook-outs by the lake, terrace parties, they've all come back again, and it's about time. As I've mentioned before, air conditioning is not very common in Switzerland (or in Europe, in general), which is not as bad as it sounds, since summers here are less humid, and Swiss August is nothing like New York August or Chicago August. On the other hand, it can be difficult to sleep when you're hot, and an air conditioner would sometimes be a rather handy thing to have.
With that in mind, I bought a small air conditioner to use in my bedroom when it gets too hot to sleep, and I decided it was time to install it. I realized that needed a longer exhaust hose, as the one that came with the unit was too short, and that I'd need to find a way to cover the opening for the skylight that I'll be using to vent the air conditioner. So I went to the Swiss equivalent of Home Depot with two goals: a longer exhaust hose and a piece of plywood cut to my skylight's dimensions, with a hole cut out for the vent. And then I realized that it was going to be more difficult than anticipated. The employees there speak no English, no French, no Chinese, and little high German, so I was stuck trying to explain what I wanted in a weak combination of high German and Swiss German. (Upon further reflection, I'm not even sure that I would have fared any better in French or Chinese, since my home improvement vocab outside of English is, well, non-existent). How many languages can you say "I'd like a longer exhaust hose for my air conditioner" in?
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