United Airlines Flight 9
74 finally landed amidst an uncontrollable excitement and anticipation boiling inside me. I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride and accomplishment in knowing that my own decisions and planning brought me to Geneva, a small city of great international importance. Yet under this pride manifested a preconceived understanding of Swiss life and culture that I had not yet noticed or understood, it was hidden deep within a manifestation of cultural prejudice engrained in American society. Stepping off the plane was like walking through a veil, an invisible ‘iron curtain’ of my making, an ideological and cultural warfare of which I was completely unaware. I walked to customs, flashed my passport with ephemeral pride and confidently strode to the unknown tram stop that I prayed existed. I was on a mission and nothing could ruin my pomp, not even my lack of French, or so I thought.
I had prepared a list of French phrases I felt would suffice for my
incomprehension of the language and my ill-mannered expectation that Swiss people knew English and that they knew it quite well. It was much to my surprise then in asking people in passing for any sense of direction that they were either not Swiss or they didn’t speak any English. Quickly, the chisels of reality, and an enormous sense of place hammered the veil that I had built up. I realized the seriousness of my assumptions and what they meant for my experiences in Switzerland. To not know the language is to instantly separate oneself from the superfluous cultural understandings present, and it is in this separation that stereotypes strengthen themselves. I was glad to have learned this early in my travels of Geneva and Switzerland. I learned that Swiss people respect their language and expect acknowledgement of their language from foreigners in return. I tackled the language barrier and I have now learned a good understanding of basic French. In essence, I changed myself to better assimilate to the culture of Geneva, but more importantly, I began to tear down the veil myself.
I struggle with the language barrier every day, but with the confidence of knowing that I am learning far more than when I endorsed my ignorant assumptions. Nonetheless, my judgments of Swiss life and culture continued. I found myself quenching an undying curiosity of Swiss people by ‘people-watching’ whenever possible. This habit became a basis for my prejudice against the Swiss and often led me to disappointing conclusions. On a Saturday afternoon, I decided to reflect on my experiences thus far in Geneva, jump on a random tram, and open a book, voluntarily unknowing of my destination. To add to this, I was listening to Fantasia on a Theme: Symphony Number 5 by Ralph Vaughan Williams, as it is my favorite classical piece.
I remember in this moment thinking of Geneva as a whited sepulcher - as Joseph Conrad noted in reference to Belgium in his novel Heart of Darkness – a city of beauty and glamour on the outside, but rotting from within. As the song progressed, I felt this designation was justified. The responsibility for this assumption came from my observations of people in the city, and not from a personal vendetta against the Swiss people. I noticed the people parade what they wear, how they look, and what they own. There was a superficial and arrogant vibe that tore down my confidence and diluted the happiness I once had stepping off Flight 974. I felt demeaned by the population as my lack of money and nice clothes separated me from the glamorous lifestyle abundantly present within the city. I found myself at a crossroads, not understanding why I came to such a place and why I poured good money into a whited sepulcher, a rotting city.
Fantasia on a Theme played through and finished beautifully as I stepped off the tram into an unknown area. I was thankful for Ralph Vaughan Williams and his wonderful work in classical music. Nonetheless, I stumbled upon a stream that led across the French border and towards the towering Le Salève mountains where I sat down and reflected. An epiphany overwhelmed me with excitement as I realized a major flaw in all my assessments. The veil I had worked tirelessly to tear down was as prevalent as when I stepped off the plane, only this time I was aware of it completely. My judgments were flawed for one reason; they disregarded the common nature of the human condition of love and kindness. Geneva is as much rotting as any city in the world, but where there is rotting there is life. In that moment, I tore down the veil completely and felt relief and excitement for where I was. I was flawed, yet sometimes it takes rock bottom for one to realize all the good. I digress.
