Here, There, and Everywhere

While moving to Switzerland has been a big [expletive deleted] adjustment on its own, a great thing about moving to Europe is that I’m not really just in Switzerland. In the two short months that I’ve been here, I’ve been to Scotland, England, Portugal, and France as well, generally as the “plus one” of my fiancé, Andrew, whose work as a consultant on leadership and culture change takes him all over the world.

Sometimes, that’s awkward: for example, at a recent lecture and dinner for civil engineers in London, where Andrew delivered a brilliant (not that I’m biased) lecture about rethinking safety culture. Afterwards, everyone wanted to talk to him, and if not, were eager to chat with each other about applying the lessons to their work. This was a great result! But it did leave me wandering the periphery of the room like a kid at a middle school dance, trying not to drink my wine too quickly. You know when you’re in one of those social functions, and you try to sort of softly elbow your way into conversations? Laughing at the right time, inserting a comment that may or may not be appropriate (“I’ve thought that very thing about jet engines! Ha! What?”), offering to get everyone a drink but hoping they don’t think you’re just a too-friendly waiter? It’s pretty awful.

A lovely guy named Lawrence, to whom Andrew had introduced me, and was upper management in the hosting organization, had mercy on me and chatted me up. I demurred, and said politely, “Thanks for saying hello, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty of colleagues you’d like to speak with.” And he said, “I know what it feels like to be at one of these things and not know anyone. It’s bloody terrible isn’t it?” And laughed. Those small moments of kindness bridge the gap of culture and profession and make you just feel seen as a human being.

Lawrence helped me to our table and slyly switched up the seating arrangement so that I was seated next to Andrew. For this, Lawrence will forever have a place in my heart and on my dance card. As the night went on and the food and wine flowed, I had the great opportunity to listen without pressure, unlike events in my own wheelhouse where I may feel the need to “perform.” I learned a lot about the concerns of their respective companies: how to keep workers safe on construction sites, a tragic accident that had taken the life of a colleague… they asked me how South Florida was coping with climate change, and I gave them an honest, if grim , assessment. The conversation wound on into the night, perhaps reaching a high point when I had a funny conversation about my tattoos with a distinguished older gentleman that I later found was a “Sir,” ie, had been knighted by the Queen. (For the record, he said his wife had considered getting a tattoo, which prompted him to give her an “old fashioned look.”)

There were easier moments of travel: tromping through the Scottish countryside on a survival adventure with my soon-to-be-nephew Max (ie, walking through a golf course in the dark to get to dinner—but if we had gotten lost, we had ALL the supplies), seeing Andrew get fitted for his wedding kilt, having a glass of wine at sunset, looking down on Lisbon from the castle of St. Jorge.

Getting back home to Switzerland after our recent travels, we were greeted by our neighbors, who invited us to a Christmas dinner for everyone in the building. It’s a small building, only six apartments, and I felt my social anxiety coming on, imagining a roomful of people speaking French, as I sipped white wine and read the ingredient list on the salad dressing. The evening was lovely, the food excellent and very Swiss/French (oysters, potatoes, cheese, foie gras, a roast, salad, merengue), and the conversation—from what I could understand—lively. No, I didn’t understand all of it—there were conversations going on in Portuguese, French, English and Spanish at once. There was a baby crawling on the floor, bottles of champagne popping, and even some impromptu singing. Somehow, I felt very at home.

So, as we said that night, Santé, Salud, Slainté, Felicidades, and Cheers! Especially to the Lawrences of the world that take on the job of making just one person feel a bit less foreign.