Tag: US

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It’s the Little Things – Mustard and Bat Caves

It’s been a while since I wrote a post in this series. The kids and I are home this week, playing and going on outings. So, I thought I would highlight a couple of things that continue to make our daily life here a little different than back home.

Mustard

I took all three kids to the grocery store this week, a feat that is even more challenging without a car and without those neat car-shaped grocery carts, which would never fit around the corners here. There are tons of little differences in the products here, starting with different brands and languages. But, there are a couple of categories I wanted to mention specifically. First, a lot of the food that we buy here is similar to what we have back home, but it is just packaged differently. Mustard and mayonnaise come in large, aluminum tooth-paste tubes. Apple sauce comes in tin cans. And juice and milk often come in rectangular cartons, like a giant juice box. There are a couple of things here that are taboo in the US like Aromat (a seasoning shaker of MSG) and saccharine tablets for sweetening coffee. The supposed health risks of these items have been debunked, but they never recovered in the US. And there are a couple of things that I just can’t find here, including baking soda and brown sugar (I’ve learned to substitute “raw cane sugar,” though it doesn’t pack the way I’m used to).

These are just a few of the many differences in food products that make grocery shopping or opening my refrigerator almost a cultural experience.

Bat Caves

Today I took the kids to a place called Papiliorama northwest of Bern. It has an outdoor petting farm and playground, and three large enclosures: butterflies, jungles, and nocturnal animals. The latter enclosure was very dark, lit only by dim blue lights. There were night sounds playing as you walk through a maze past owls, fish and other animals. We were squatted down looking at some fish when I noticed something swoop by. “Was that a bat?” I wondered to myself. And, sure enough, moments later another one swooped by just ahead of us. I didn’t say anything, as I didn’t want to scare the kids, so we just kept walking. More and more of them flew by, and James finally said something. I explained that they were just little fruit bats, and they wouldn’t hurt us. The kids seemed okay with this, and Henry repeated my explanation every time one flew by.

The trail led into another area through some of those thick plastic blinds intended to keep things from escaping. Suddenly there were even more bats flitting around – apparently the first few were just the ones that had gotten out of the enclosed area. Several bats flew so close to me, I felt the breeze as they passed. Then the path led into a cave. It was no more than 6 feet tall or across and about 15 feet long, and there were bats everywhere. They were hanging from the ceiling and swooping through at breakneck speed. I tried to keep my strong, confident mom face on, but all I could think was “You have got to be kidding me!”

The kids and I had a quick discussion about how bats can’t actually see, and the only way they don’t run into things is by sonar. Then I ducked my head down to Henry’s stroller and walked through with bats dangling above and whooshing all around. Every time I lifted my head to see where I was going, a bat would swoosh within inches of my face before turning at the last moment. I definitely felt a wing tip on my head, and I may have screamed a couple of times. Although it raised my adrenaline levels, I have to admit it was actually a pretty cool experience. And the kids loved it!

The reason I am writing about this here is that something like this would never happen in America. I’ve seen bats at the zoo in Milwaukee, but always behind glass. I’ve had access to animals up close, but not fast-moving animals in a claustrophobically confined space. It’s too scary! Or dangerous! What if someone got scratched?! They might sue! Well, the Swiss don’t seem to have these concerns. It’s not that things don’t happen. They do. I saw a kid from a field-trip group holding his arm and complaining that a bat scratched him. But they didn’t seem to mind. Scratches happen. That’s life. Besides, that kid was probably flailing his arms around, so that’s what he gets. The Swiss would never change something for everyone because of minor risks or the stupidity or carelessness of a few people. Besides, that kid, as well as all the kids who gathered around to see his scratch, learned a valuable lesson about personal responsibility…  Always keep your arms down when walking through a bat cave.

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Cha-Ching

I’ve noticed another sign of my integration into Swiss culture. I call it “money math.” To explain what I mean, first you have to understand the smallest denominations of Swiss currency. Joe covered Swiss Franc bills in a previous series, but he stopped before he got to the most common form of money that we deal with every day — the coins.

Swiss Coins

In Switzerland, the smallest paper currency is 10 Francs. So, the coins, from largest to smallest are: 5 Francs, 2 Francs, 1 Franc, 50 cents, 20 cents, 10 cents, and 5 cents. (“Cents” are actually called “Rappen” here, but I don’t want to confuse the issue.) This is so completely different than the breakdown of coins in the US. For starters, you will notice there is no penny. The 1-cent coin was taken out of circulation in 2006. (There was also a 2-cent coin that was taken out of circulation in 1974.) You can still come across these coins occasionally. They are actually considered to be good luck. But, officially, there is nothing smaller than 5-cents, so all prices end in 5s or usually 10s. There are no prices ending in $.99. Imagine that!

Secondly, the value of coins is so much greater. A 5 Franc coin is worth $5.44 today. A small collection of coins in my purse could easily be worth over $20. Which leads me back to money math. When you grow up counting quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies, it is really hard to switch gears. For example, if something costs 22.75 in the US, that would be a $20 bill, two $1 bills, and 3 quarters. In Switzerland, it’s a 20 CHF bill, a 2 CHF coin, a 50-cent coin, a 20-cent coin, and a 5-cent coin.

When we first got here, my brain just couldn’t do the math fast enough at the checkout counter, especially since I wasn’t familiar enough with the coins to know what each one was worth without flipping them around to look at the numbers. Plus, I was trying to just understand what the clerk was asking me in Swiss German. (Her: “Do you have a store savings card?” Me: “What?” Her: “Would you like your frozen items in a plastic bag?” Me: “What?” Her: “That will be 87.90 please.”) At this point, I would just look at the display screen to decipher the number she had just said, hand her whatever bill I had that was bigger, accept whatever change she gave me and get out of there as quickly as I could. This resulted in an extremely large collection of coins in my purse, until finally I decided I had to start using them.

It was a long and slow process. But the other day I realized that I hardly ever say “What?” at checkout counters anymore, and I can count out my change like a pro. In fact, it was harder for me to think about the US breakdown in my earlier example than the Swiss breakdown! I’ve grown to really like the larger coins here. In fact, when we come back to the US, I think I might do my part to help the US economy by using all those $1 coins that the US made that are sitting in storage because no one wants to use them. But, that’s a different issue.

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Rain, rain go away

Well, I was supposed to be writing a post about our wonderful weekend in the mountains. We had it all planned out, reservations made, suitcases (almost) packed.  But, the weather forecast got worse and worse.  It said rain all weekend and no visibility, so we canceled our plans at the last minute and stayed home.  Now the most exciting things I can report from the weekend are a trip to a mall (and let me tell you that malls are not a cultural experience.  A mall is a mall is a mall.)  We also watched the Packers game live on Sunday night, which was noon in the US. Woo hoo!

Monday morning it was still raining.  Henry and I went to our music class, and I arrived from our bike ride cold and pretty wet.  Music class is all in Swiss German.  I’ve learned most of the melodies and some of the sounds/words.  But mostly I am singing gibberish and following whatever the other parents do.  Fortunately, in a toddler music class, this is not too difficult.

By noon, we had stopped at the grocery store and come home soggy just in time for Emily and James to walk in from school also soaked. I understand that this kind of weather is commonplace in Swtizerland, so we have to get better at this!  On the bright side, the forecast is much better starting tomorrow — both for the weather and for our plans.

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The New Job

Thursday, August 18th was my first day of fellowship. If you have read any of the information from the About section of our website (particularly this page which explains why we moved to Switzerland) you know that I will be spending the next year studying treatment of adult and (some) pediatric forms of hip disease. Switzerland, and the University of Bern in particular, is a world leader in the understanding of hip disease. I won’t bore you all with the particulars of why and how, but let’s just say it is an honor and a privilege to be here.

Bern, a city of several hundred thousand people, houses at least six hospitals and over 60 orthopaedic surgeons. The Inselspital (German for “Island Hospital” – read more about the hospital’s history here) is the main university hospital in the city. Just like in the United States, most university hospitals are tertiary referral centers. They get the most complicated cases and the sickest patients. They are also hotbeds of research, both clinical and basic science. The difference between Switzerland and the US, however, is that university hospitals leave all of the “bread and butter” cases to the surrounding institutions. If you’re healthy and need a total hip, they won’t take you at the university hospital (whereas, in the US they will gladly take you, especially if you have insurance).

So that makes residency education different as well. In Switzerland, residency training takes 6 or 7 years on average, and is less organized than in the US. Their residents are required to do one year of training at a university hospital to sit for the boards. Most residents spend the other 5 or 6 years in the community hospitals doing general orthopaedics. A few residents, however, choose to spend the majority of their time at the university hospital. These are generally residents with a particular area of interest and, perhaps, a desire to enter academic medicine. The other major difference here is that residents are restricted to 50 hours of work per week, where we allow for 80 hours in the US (but stay tuned for changes to that rule).

So my first day at the Inselspital was most excellent. I was instructed to find my way to the Orthopaedic offices by following a red line on the floor until it took my to the #5 lift. I got there, and when the lift opened, it revealed a box that was roughly two feet by two feet. The gentleman in front of me got in, turned to face me and looked at me like, “Well? Are you getting in?” so I squeezed into the box next to him, turned around, and watched as one other person climbed in next to me. Suffice it to say, it was quite a tight fit, and I’ve never felt closer to my coworkers. Since my arms were pinned to my side I leaned over and hit the button for floor E with my nose. When the door opened at my floor I burst forth from the box like a greased Scotsman out of a ventilator duct.

After that I followed the signs to the Orthopaedic clinic. The clinic offices were very nice… small, but very functional. I found my way to the morning conference room and sat in a chair in the back. People began to file in and I smiled and greeted them if they addressed me. The first part of morning conference was a lecture on periprosthetic infections. While this topic is dry when presented in English, it is even more difficult to tolerate in German. Add to that the European’s general distaste for air conditioning and Bern’s current heat wave, and it was a struggle to stay awake.

Following the lecture there was a routine “sign out” conference. Just like every other program I’ve ever visited, a portion of the morning was devoted to reviewing yesterday’s admissions and planning treatment options on difficult patients. And to drive home the point that medicine (especially Orthopaedics) is mostly the same everywhere you go, even though sign out was conducted in German, I clearly heard one of the staff physicians describe a particularly bad elbow fracture as being “all f*****d up.” In English. Forget Esperanto, swearing is the universal language.

Following morning conference I met with my fellowship mentor, Professor Dr. Klaus Siebenrock. He is chairman of the department and leader of the Hip, Pelvis, and Tumor team. We chatted briefly about expectations for the coming year, potential research projects, and surgical opportunities. We also chatted about my name since he comes from the Black Forest region of Germany, where the name Schwab is stately, if you’ll tolerate a pun.

Then we went to the operating theatre. The Inselspital seems to be under perpetual construction and one of the newest completed portions of the hospital includes a set of operating suites for orthopaedics. We dressed for surgery, he introduced me to a number of surgical staff, and we went to work. The cases were great, the people were very friendly, and I ended the work day with a good feeling about the coming year.

To make the day even better, I had a text on my phone from Sarah saying that she and the kids were in Bern, at a local library, and that we should meet for dinner. We met in the beautiful, and bustling, Kornhausplatz, where the kids quickly spied a McDonalds. We have been eating so much European food lately that Sarah and I agreed the kids deserved a little taste of home. And McDonalds was a good reminder how bad home can taste sometimes. So three Smurfs™ Happy Meals™ later, we took the kids home on the train. It was a great end to a great first day.