Newton’s unpublished law

Newton’s First Law

Corpus omne perseverare in statu suo quiescendi vel movendi uniformiter in directum, nisi quatenus a viribus impressis cogitur statum illum mutare.

[translated from Latin into English]

Every body persists in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight forward, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by force impressed.

An object at rest tends to stay at rest, and an object in motion tends to stay in motion, unless acted upon by an unseen force. Newtonian Physics. This law was devised in a time when people rarely moved, apparently. I can tell you, with great certainty, that when a person (or a group of people) are preparing to move, and especially when that move spans several continents and oceans, the law can be written thusly:

During transoceanic relocation, every body persists in the state of being at rest, and in motion, as the two states are neither mutual nor exclusive, and will move spasmodically in all directions when compelled to change its state by various governmental or relocation agents.Sisyphus.

Quick Hit: Grocery Stores

In this Quick Hit we have to mention something about Switzerland’s grocery stores. Switzerland has a number of grocery store chains including Denner, Lidl, Avec, Proxi, Aldi Suisse (don’t mention this one to Swiss people, though), Spar and so on. But if you want to really talk about grocery stores in Switzerland, there is only one discussion: Coop versus Migros.

MigrosBoth Migros (pronounce ME-grow) and Coop (pronounced like cope) are Swiss-run grocery store chains based on the co-op philosophy. You are not just a customer, you are part owner. Their primary difference is that Coop has a large selection of brand-name items, and also carries products with any of their various Coop labels (indicating various levels of quality and, therefore, varying prices). Migros, on the other hand, predominantly carries products that are made specifically by, or for Migros. Want Ovomaltine? You have to go to Coop. In fact, for a long time Migros would not sell Rivella, Switzerland’s national drink, but a knock-off called “Mivella.” Migros has softened their stance and there are certain brand-name products you can buy there including Rivella, Coca-cola, Nutella, Thomy (makers of mustard and mayonnaise), etc.

CoopThe other major difference is that Migros will not sell alcohol or tobacco. Never have, never will. Coop is happy to serve your vices up alongside fresh meats, cheeses, veggies, and anything else you could want.

But both Migros and Coop are more than just grocery stores… they are Swiss instiutions, aimed to offer ANYTHING you could want. Both have grocery stores, hardware stores, sporting goods stores, gas stations, travel offices, electronics stores, banks, clothing stores, fitness centers, furniture stores, bookstores, adult education centers, golf courses, and just about anything else you can think of.

While Switzerland is decidedly neutral, politically, they are fierce loyalists when it comes to their grocery stores. I have been in the middle of a conversation with Swiss friends who turn their nose up in disgust at someone else for being a “Coop person.” I have also been in conversations where people get so fiercely upset with Migros for not carrying their favorite brand of something or other. Simply put, when you have company over for a party, shop carefully, and hide your packaging! 

Beginning our Goodbyes

Last night we began the process of saying our goodbyes to people here. We hosted a farewell party at our home for the members of the hip team from the Inselspital. Despite the rainy weather, people from the clinic gathered, many with their children, and we grilled out Swiss-style and drank local beer. After almost a year of their kindness and hospitality, it was the least we could do to say thank you. I also passed out a few t-shirts from Milwaukee’s own Lakefront Brewery as a small token of thanks and encouraged them all to visit us in America.

They had one last surprise for me, though. While we were all sitting outside on the porch, I started to hear a loud gonging sound. It sounded like a Swiss Cow was walking through our house. When I looked through the window into the house I saw my fellowship mentor walking through our living room with a large swiss bell around his neck, ringing away to announce his arrival.

He brought the bell outside and, much to my surprise, presented me with the very same Swiss Cow Bell that I had seen made just the previous week. They had decided to get it for us as a gift. We were all so touched! It added another fond memory that will undoubtedly come to mind when we look at that bell back in our home in America.

You can see pictures of our new bell below:

 

Quick Hit: Rivella

Time is quickly winding down for us, but there is still so much to experience and write about. Instead of having the occasional long post, I thought I would present a few “Quick Hits” to cover a few things that I wanted to mention.

Rivella

Sarah mentioned Rivella in her post about going to the movies. Rivella is Switzerland’s national soft drink. It is a cultural icon and a powerful craving. Rivella comes in three (main) varieties: Red (rot – the original), Blue (blau – sugar-free) and Green (grüne – it’s got green tea in it, or something). It is a refreshing drink that, in all honesty, seems to create a very powerful taste memory. Whenever I am riding the trains towards to mountains, I crave Rivella.

The interesting thing about it, though, is what it’s made of. Switzerland produces so much cheese, that it has a surplus of “milch serum”, or whey – the thin proteinaceous liquid that is left over when cheese curd is extracted from milk. An enterprising Swiss gentleman, Robert Barth, decided to carbonate the leftover milch serum in the 1950s, and Rivella was born.

When I was here for only a few months, there was another fellow visiting from the U.S. We were at lunch one day and he had a bottle of Rivella. I asked him if he had tried it yet. He said no, but he had noticed everyone drinking it. As he started taking a sip I casually explained to him that when they say the main ingredient is “milch serum,” that is really a disingenuous term. “You see,” I said, “when they wash the udders of the milking cows, they use a special non-soap solution so the udders don’t get irritated. Then, when they’re done, the ‘udder washings’ are concentrated, and then carbonated.” He was looking at me now with a mouthful. “So there may be a little milk in there, left over on the udders,” I continued, “but it’s really just udder washings.”

I will forever remember his face as he choked down that first mouthful… right before I burst out laughing.

Salzburg

Since Sarah and Emily got to take a trip to Paris France, just the two girls, James and I decided to take a trip as well, just the two boys. Henry, being less than 3-years-old when we left, is considered gender neutral by the Geneva Conventions and is therefore ineligible for any “all girls” or “all boys” events. Fortunately, he turned 3 on June 3rd, so this is all a moot point.

Anyway, James and I set our sights on Salzburg, the City of Music, birthplace to Mozart, and the namesake of the Salzach River. Salzburg is a stone’s throw from Munich, nestled between Innsbruck and Vienna, and within view of the Austrian Alps. It sustained a reasonable amount of damage during WWII, but, like many European cities, has retained or restored its altstadt (old town), around which it flourishes with modern architecture and pedestrian-friendly layouts.

James and I boarded a train from Bern on Friday afternoon, and by 8pm we were at our hotel in Salzburg. We stayed at a charming hotel in the altstadt right off of the Mozartplatz. Get used to seeing that name everywhere as Salzburg loves its native son. Nearly every cafe, platz, strasse, steg, and saal has a name associated with the famous composer. Even though Mozart gladly moved from Salzburg to Vienna, to get out from under the thumb of the Bishop of Salzburg, the town still holds tightly to his legacy.

We arrived a little bit late in the evening, but James and I were hungry so we took the bus to the Augustiner Bräustübl (beer hall), just on the outskirts of town. Augustiner is a kloster (monastery) that supports its religious mission with a vibrant brewery (not uncommon in Germanic lands). James was very excited to visit the beerhall. We went up to the shelves in front and both grabbed ceramic mugs. James filled his with water, and I filled mine with Augustiner’s flagship Märzen beer. We sat in the beerhall, two Schwab men, quaffed from our mugs and ate sausage. When it was too late for James to keep his eyes open any longer, we headed back to the hotel.

On Saturday, James and I woke to a delicious breakfast, and headed to the Museum der Moderne where there was an exhibit for kids about Monsters. We looked at the pictures, dressed up, went into a scary room, and looked at different artist renditions of monsters for an hour or so. Then we made our way from the museum, via Salzburg’s catacombs, to the Funicular that goes up to Salzburg’s fortress.

High above the cliff over Salzburg the fortress is now a museum and restaurant. We saw images from Salzburg’s Marionettetheater as well as lots of relics from the origins of the fortress all the way up to munitions from WWI. James loved seeing all of sights, but eventually we got tired and headed back down to the old town for lunch.

In the afternoon we headed to Mozart’s birthhouse where we walked around with approximately 1,576 asian tourists. Fortunately James’ hair has gotten dark enough that these tourists were not stopping us for pictures. After the Mozarthaus we went to dinner in the eastern part of the old town while bands played for a festival being thrown by the University of Salzburg.

In the evening, James and I boarded a bus to the outskirts of Salzburg in a town called Anif. Anif houses Schloss Hellbrunn, and the Salzburg Zoo. We took the tour of the “night zoo” where we saw brown bears, wolves, snow leopards, and flamingos eat before their bedtime. We also saw lots of frogs, turtles, red pandas, alpacas, tapirs, capuchin monkeys, capybaras, parrots, and so much more. The Salzburg zoo is reportedly the oldest zoo in the world, but, as James learned, does not house the oldest animals. It is a beautiful zoo with cliffs as the backdrop, and Alpine foothills across the other side. You can see why the Salzburg royalty would build their palace right next door.

Sunday James and I awoke later, ate breakfast, and made our way to the train station to head back to Switzerland. James got a few small commemorative items, and we got some famous Mozartkugeln for the rest of the family. It was nice to spend some time with my son, getting to spoil him a little bit on one hand, but getting to see him grow a little bit on the other.

See the gallery of our trip.

Sorrento (Part I)

Close your eyes.

Now picture a beautiful stone villa dating back over 2000 years. Built by ancient Romans, it is surrounded by a citrus grove bursting with lemons and oranges. Olive plants ready themselves to bring forth delectable fruit. Mount Vesuvius looms on the horizon, overlooking the bay of Napoli on the Mediterranean Sea.

You smell the sea air. You hear the waterfall cutting the bluffs behind you. You taste the fruit. You feel the history deep in your soul.

Now open your eyes.

You see a tumultuous cloudy sky fertile with a nearly constant downpour of rain. And it never gets above 50 degrees. Oh, and you can’t really see the Mediterranean because of fog. This is the reality of our time in Sorrento. For five straight days.

Sarah is our vacation planner. Once we have a destination in mind she gathers all of the information about what to see and do while there, and Sorrento was no exception. Sorrento is a 30 minute easy train ride from the ruins at Pompeii. It’s a quick boat ride to the island of Capri, with its beautiful Blue Grotto. Sorrento is also a launching pad for a drive along the Amalfi Coast – a scenic, harrowing journey along cliff edges overlooking the Mediterranean.

But of all these things, we were only able to make it to Pompeii. We walked the ruins with our umbrellas, fending off the downpour. We began hoping that Mount Vesuvius might erupt again, today even, if only to add some more excitement to the trip. Pompeii was really cool, but the kids showed enthusiasm for only about 30 minutes before umbrella sword-fighting, puddles, and the fascination with all things wet took over.

We couldn’t blame them. They had just behaved spectacularly in Rome, witnessing over 1000 years of civilization, and now they were ready for a break.

So, for the sake of the kids (and forced by the weather), Sarah and I decided that Sorrento would be a time to sit back and veg out. The kids became familiar with Cartoonito – the Italian Cartoon Network – which they happily watched despite everything being dubbed into Italian. They spent an ungodly amount of time in their pajamas. But they loved every minute of it. Especially when they got to accessorize with makeshift capes.

Sarah and I found ourselves in unfamiliar territory. It was a struggle at times, but nothing a good book couldn’t cure. We got outside here and there to go to dinner, or the local markets to buy food. The kids never wanted to leave the villa, unless Gelato was involved (which it frequently was).

So while we mostly missed out on all of the great things Sorrento has to offer, we got some much needed rest and relaxation, and spent A LOT of time together as a family. So much time, in fact, that we may need to take separate vacations next time. Ha!

 

See all of our pictures from Sorrento, Italy. 

Wait, why are we here again?

It came up recently that I had not been posting much about my work, since that is the reason we ended up moving to Switzerland anyway. I’ve had a number of friends email me assuming that work is keeping me very busy since Sarah authors most of the posts on this blog. Work does keep me busy, but not so busy that I can’t take time off to spend with my family.

So when I looked back, it turns out the only real meaningful post I have written about my job was from back in August, and that was within a week of me starting at the hospital. So I guess it is time for an update. Make sure you grab a drink for this post, because it may be a little dry, and pictures will be sparse.

You may remember that I am here to learn about “hip preservation surgery.” This is a new field in orthopaedics that was really started here in Bern within the last 20 years, and has come into its own here over the last ten years or so. One awesome thing about my job is that I get to work with, and learn from, the world leaders in hip preservation. The Inselspital is used to having people come visit for varying lengths of time to learn their techniques. Most people will visit for four weeks, six weeks, or maybe three months. Six months is not common, and a whole year is not very common at all.

But with that said, there are some very cool benefits that come along with being here for a full year. Unlike most other fellows, I get an office (with a great view of the northern Jura mountains), a new computer, and an ability to really delve deeply into what they’re trying to do here. Research here is plentiful, but not much can be done in 6 weeks. So when a new fellow comes, it’s difficult to integrate them meaningfully in research. Since I am here for a full year, I have as much research work as I can handle, and then some.

My mentors/coworkers are like every other group of orthopaedists that I’ve had the pleasure to work with; they’re fun, irreverent, enthusiastic, and sport a great sense of humor. They have taken the time to teach me their trade, but also to integrate me into their culture and social life. I’m learning history and language and medicine and so much more.

As far as how things compare to what I am used to back home, there are some definite differences. First of all, surgical scrubs are only to be worn in surgery, no exception. I repeat, no exception (and when someone says that with a German accent, you listen). Not only that, but there are communal-use surgical shoes (sterilized after each use) that you must wear. And for infected cases, there are a separate pair of shoes that are to be worn only in the Operating Room (OR), itself.

The OR lounge for nurses, surgeons, and staff has loaves of fresh bread, platters of cured meats, and fresh soup brought in daily. There is also an excellent coffee maker and taps for naturelle (no bubbles) and frizzante (bubbles) mineral water. While lots of time can be wasted here, I rarely see people linger her for more than 20-30 minutes.

Lunch is A BIG DEAL here. Back home, “eating lunch” meant shoving cold chicken strips in my mouth as I walked between the OR and the ER. But in Switzerland, lunch is the main meal, and the Inselspital is really no exception. Most of the orthopaedics department gathers for lunch between 11:30am and 1:00pm. Lunch is a time to sit, relax, eat a LARGE meal, drink a coffee, and… eventually… go back to work.

While all of this sounds great, I can’t help but think how different it might be if I were really able to speak the language. My relative shyness in talking, mixed with the Swiss’ natural tendency to not be very welcoming into their friendship circle, naturally means that my ability to make friends with ancillary staff, techs, nurses, etc is not easy. Back home this was not a problem, but here it can be a bit isolating. But even with those obstacles, I’ve been able to make some work friends. Or perhaps my ridiculous way of speaking is just a novelty to them. I’m like a monkey. A monkey who is poor at speaking Swiss German.

But with all of that said, I could not be happier with my decision to come here. The opportunity has been great, and will hopefully provide a continuing productive professional relationship well into the future. It’s exactly what I want to be doing right now. And in a way it really makes me appreciate what I have to look forward to back home. Sarah and I say it all the time: we’re blessed. We’re extremely lucky to be here.

In fact, I’m the luckiest monkey I know.

Halfway there…

So as of February 1, 2012, we have been living in Switzerland for six months, which means we have six more months to go. Recently I have begun thinking about how my life has changed since living here. Some things are obvious: I speak more German here, I don’t have a car, I can only afford meat when it’s on sale. But other things take a little introspection to figure out. Life is certainly not the same as it was. So here are just a few of the ways things have changed for me in the last six months.

1. I’ve started smoking

Actually, I’ve started second-hand smoking. It’s much cheaper. But it’s also nearly unavoidable since almost everyone seems to smoke around here when waiting for the bus or a train. Even at 6am. Who wants a cigarette at 6am? Apparently the Swiss do. I figure I’m second-hand smoking up to a pack and a half per day now. While the smell of smoke used to bother me in the morning, now I barely even notice it. I also can’t taste food anymore. It might be unrelated… but I expect not.

2. I know the cows who produce my milk, personally

If you read the blog regularly, you know that Sarah and I get our milk, eggs, and potatoes from a farm down the street. We go in a few times a week and fill up our milk bottles, drop a deposit in the till and head home. The sad part is, I can tell what the cows have been eating all week by how the milk tastes. You know that scene in Napolean Dynamite where he is in the milk-tasting competition? That’s now me.

An actual (translated) conversation from a few weeks ago between me and the farmer:

Me: Hello! How’s it going?

Farmer: Super! How’s working at the hospital?

Me: It’s good. Hey, how’s Katya’s (the cow) mastitis doing?

Farmer: Much better. The antibiotics helped. Her udder is much less swollen and red.

Me: Super. Have a great weekend!

Farmer: Same to you!

3. I’ve come to regard Personal Space as a suggestion

The American vs. European cliché about personal space is alive and well in Switzerland. People don’t mind being bumped into, touched, cramped, crowded, or squished into elevators, buses, trains, or the like. At first this definitely made me feel uncomfortable. Then I got used to it, but would still think about it as it was happening. After a while it stopped bothering me altogether. In fact, I’ve started pushing the boundaries the other way; seeing how close I can stand next to someone while talking to them, standing absurdly close to someone in a wide open elevator, sitting on other people’s laps during lunch. I’m waiting for someone to suggest that I’ve gone too far. This may take a while.

 4. I wait at crosswalk lights

Living in Chicago for seven years, you can make a game about how to most creatively cross the street. Things like crosswalks, lighted signals… these are suggestions. In Switzerland, if you cross the street anywhere other than the crosswalk, or when the walk light isn’t green, you will draw looks. More than likely you will draw comments. Das ist verboten! At first you may be tempted to brush this off, but then you realize… every adult Swiss male has done at least some military service, and has a fully functional semi-automatic weapon readily available. Maybe its best to just do what they say. Eat some chocolate, pay attention, and just follow the rules. Welcome to Switzerland.

Small Christmas Miracles

James has been having a bit of a difficult Christmas. He’s admitted to being pretty homesick, and I think that the holidays coming on were making him think more of home. More than that, though, James became convinced this year that Santa wasn’t real. And this wasn’t just a fleeting thought. He would argue about it. He would yell at his sister about it. He would get upset when anyone suggested otherwise.

So Sarah and I talked to him. We pulled him aside and said we thought it was fine if he didn’t want to believe in Santa Claus. He told us that he thought we were the ones who brought presents on Christmas. We told him that was true. But we also told him that it was important to his younger brother and older sister that Santa really existed. So we said that, for now, we would not discuss whether Santa existed in front of Emily and Henry, unless they wanted to talk about it too. He was OK with that.

Then we went on our Christmas Vacation in the Alps and a few small things happened. First, while enjoying our presents on Christmas Eve, a small bell rang from the next room, when the kids went in they found a few more presents and evidence that the Christkind had been there.

Santa's note on our tree
Santa's note on our tree

That night, at dinner, the Weihnachtsmann visited. The kids were suspicious of this man, but he pulled me aside, and asked me if I knew an Emily and James. I told him I did. He handed me two packages and told me that they contained a very special Swiss treat only for boys and girls who were ready to accept them. The Weihnachtsmann had singled out Emily and James.

Finally, when we arrived home in Münsingen, we found our fireplace open. There were bootprints and ashes around our tree. James detected hoof prints in the backyard. Most importantly, there were presents under our well-cared for and watered Christmas tree. There was also a note on the tree that read:

Dear Emily, James, and Henry,

I hope you had a great Christmas in the mountains. I told my friend Christkind to visit you there. But I couldn’t leave out any of my American children around the world, so I brought a few things to your home in Switzerland.

See you next year back in Milwaukee!

Love,
Santa

P.S. I hope you don’t mind – the reindeer were very thirsty from the long trip, so they took a drink from your pond.

The Kids can't believe that Santa came!
The Kids can't believe that Santa came!

James, Emily, and Henry all jumped around the room yelling that they couldn’t believe it! Santa had come to visit them in Switzerland. James told Sarah and I that he couldn’t believe that he was wrong about Santa. Then he told us he couldn’t believe that we were wrong about Santa, too.

We agree. How amazing it can be to believe again.

Christmas Day: Pain and the Pelzmartiga

Christmas can be a real pain in the neck. Kids can be a real pain in the neck. Traveling during the holidays can be a real pain in the neck. Buying over-the-counter medications in Europe can be a real pain in the neck. Which is why, on Christmas Day, in Kandersteg Switzerland, I found myself in a doctors office explaining that I needed some anti-inflammatory medication because I had a real bad pain in my neck.

I’m not trying to complain here, but Christmas morning I woke up and was virtually unable to turn my head. I could look down okay, but looking up or to the sides was impossible. I knew what was going on, and I knew I just needed some Aleve to help it… but we didn’t have any. So I had to walk a couple blocks on Christmas morning to the local doctor so he could examine me and recommend some anti-inflammatory medication.

“You live in Switzerland?” he asked when I showed my Swiss health insurance card. “Yes. I live near Bern.” “Where do you work?” he asked me. “At the Inselspital,” I answered. “You’re a doctor?” he asked chuckling slightly. “Yep.” “What kind?” “Orthopaedics.” He now moved to a full on laugh. “I know,” I said, “this is all very silly.”

But I was thankful to have him there, and have learned more about the Swiss Health Care System in the meantime. Either way, by the end of the night I was beginning to feel better, and by the day after Christmas I could almost move normally again.

It turns out that Christmas in Switzerland has a contingency plan for this sort of thing. The Swiss have a tradition called the Pelzmartiga that is intended to ward off poor health, poverty, war, and danger. And they do this by trying to scare them away. So as we sat at Christmas dinner, an elegant 5-course meal with our children, we suddenly heard banging as though someone was dropping lots of pots and pans in the kitchen.

Instead, it turned out to be a group of citizens from the village, dressed up in traditional Pelzmartiga costumes, banging cowbells with old iron hooks. The walked into the hotel restaurant, mingled among the patrons alternatively scaring and consoling the children, and created the greatest ruckus I have ever heard at a Christmas dinner. To quote Henry: “They are very, very, loud.” Within ten minutes they were gone, and the children were beginning to calm down. But the impression will last a lifetime. Nothing caps off Christmas like a good scare!

Reading more about it, and speaking to locals, the Pelzmartiga are made up of the following characters:

  • The Chindlifrässer (Child Eater) wears a mask with a gaping mouth and menacing teeth. He carries a backpack with legs dangling out of it. The legs belong to a child that has fallen victim to him. The Chindlfrässer scares away famine and disease which, until the last century, caused the deaths of many young children.
  • The Chriismarti is dressed in evergreen branches and symbolizes the many dangers presented to men by winter in the woods.
  • The Blätzlibueb wears a gown of sheer fabric scraps to scare away poverty.
  • The Huttefroueli looks like an old woman carrying a war-torn soldier in a basket on her back. She scares away the threat of war.
  • The Spielkartenmann, covered all over with playing cards scares away desires to gamble and imprudent spending.
  • The Burli, a simple villager with pipe and nightcap. That’s all I could find out about that guy.
  • The Lyrimaa plays a hurdy-gurdy. You can throw money into its money slot to buy your freedom from evil powers.
  • The Heri, a gentleman in a tuxedo, hat, and white gloves holds a whip which he uses to keep the wild gang together and disciplines them if they become to violent.