Frenchness rubbing off on the Swiss
January 28, 2012 @ 9:51 am — Tags: airport, car park, culture, driving, Switzerland
France and Switzerland seem like unlikely neighbours to me. The French love slow time while the Swiss love to keep time. Some of my French friends park illegally and don’t care while a Swiss person can book their neighbour for parking in a car-free neighbour’s allotted spot. France is still learning what the internet is all about while the Swiss tourism people have already embraced social networking to make personalised advertisements starring you.
In a country where the tunnels near Geneva airport sometimes smell of peach cleaning product, Switzerland takes the cake for being efficient. And that’s why I was surprised when these doors appeared across the car park at Geneva airport when I tried to leave. My passengers, eager to get on the piste, had already been held up for an hour getting through airport security. They tried to hide their impatience.
I buzzed a nearby airport intercom and explained in French that some doors were closed and I couldn’t exit the car park. The guy clearly thought I was a nutter, but said he would come down. Minutes passed so I called again. The man said he was still on his way.
Five minutes passed and a queue of cars had built. This didn’t feel like Switzerland at all! A driver asked me what was happening, then he swore into the intercom and eventually, two workers arrived and looked surprised at the closed doors. After some discussion, they overrode the automatic closure system and manually forced the doors open, grunting along the way.
Just a few minutes later, we were moving at the speed of a tortoise with a hangover thanks to a car accident and the chaos of no traffic police. I wondered if we were really in efficient Switzerland until the smell of peach cleaner returned as we crawled through a tunnel. My friends managed half a day on the piste. It would have been less had I not made a new car parking space near the ticket office.


In Queensland, some houses are built off the ground, on stilts. This allows for a breeze to cool down the houses, and every degree helps in such a tropical place. So why on earth are there so many huts in Zermatt that are raised off the ground? Being 1,620 metres from sea level and miles from the equator, Zermatt doesn’t really have a reputation as a tropical haven, yet these huts are dotted around town like ants outside their nest.
That there is a giant Lindt Easter bunny, chained safely to the top of the Täsch train terminal in Switzerland to prevent me from attacking the ears just in case there’s chocolate inside.

I’ve just come back from a quick visit to a friend in Zermatt. What an experience. After an amazing drive through the Alps (including an odd roundabout stuck in the middle of a two-way road, without any other intersecting roads), we arrived in Täsch. No, not Zermatt. Noooooo. No, to get to Zermatt, you must park your car (pay), then take a train (pay for that too) to the resort. Without your car, you might need a taxi (a battery-run car — not free either) to your accommodation, and if you’re skiing in summer, you’ll probably need a taxi (more money) in the morning, rather than walking uphill through town with ski boots on. Once you’re at the lift office, you’ll experience wallet shrinkage as every last Swiss Franc is squeezed out of it to pay for the day pass (CHF90) which is only valid for skiing until early afternoon, and if you can still afford a taxi back to your accommodation, perhaps you can use one of the other lifts to really feel like you’ve got your money’s worth out of the day (but remember to subtract the cost of the taxi home in ski boots).
I saw this sign on a toilet when I attended a book launch in Switzerland recently. I know the Swiss are quite strict on things like noise pollution and residential car parking spaces and, well, just about everything else, but surely a man is allowed to stand up to pee! Okay, I’m not a guy, and maybe it doesn’t bother guys. So I asked some male friends what they thought. Responses ranged from “It’s unmanly,” to “It’s a luxury after a big night out when you can’t be bothered to stand,” and everything imaginable in between. One friend suggested it was for noise-related reasons, which does make sense given the bookshop location.
Following the previous weekend’s theme of shiny loud things in La Clusaz, a car rally arrived on Friday night and hung around all weekend. There were loads of lovely old cars ranging from old convertible Truimphs to big old Volvos, plus Fords, Jaguars, Ferraris, Porsches, Renaults, Mercedes, Peugots and a whole swag of other lovely curvy cars. You can kind of see four of them in this photo, along with the La Clusaz church.
Following on from my remarks on