Back in London this week and I’m reminded about one of the pleasures of living in a non-English speaking country.

I think I have some sort of compulsive disorder when it comes to receiving any information that is sent my way. (more…)

Like any new speaker of a foreign language, I’ve made some pretty funny mistakes in French.

Such as the time I meant to tell a telemarketer I couldn’t speak because I was putting my kids to bed… only I mixed up the words and said I was giving birth. And I only chose “accoucher” over “coucher” because I was trying to avoid saying I was having sex. (more…)

The debate surrounding the issue of language and identity in Switzerland is one that always stirs up a lot of attention.

Last weekend, the voters of canton Zurich voted on whether High-German or the local Swiss-German dialect - “Mundart” - should be spoken and taught in kindergarten classes at public schools throughout the canton. (more…)

“What did you do this weekend?” asked my German teacher. “Ich habe ein second-hand velo gekauft.”

For once, he nodded approvingly. “Three languages used in one sentence, now you are truly a Swiss.” (more…)

My first name, Chantal, comes from the French verb, chanter, to sing.

As a name, it was a nice thought, but as far as being practical for an American girl, it was terrible, especially when it was combined with my Italian last name. (more…)

Like the famous pocketknife, we new expats settling in CH have got to have a few handy tools for all the cultural differences coming our way.

One important tool is, yes, a pocketknife. With a corkscrew. We’re talking the facilitation of fine picnics in the great Swiss outdoors. But please, not a Swiss Army knife. (more…)