I think I’ve finally figured us out.
It took long enough! Twenty-one years, to be exact.
I know, I know, you being the quiet type means
I have to go first.
And I will. But only because
I’m so in love with you, Switzerland.
How’d THAT happen? you wonder.
I want you to embrace this fact — and me — close
even though I’m still just an immigrant.
So, since you asked:
Because, instead of scissors, you gave my kids knitting needles in Kindergarten to punch along dotted lines so they’d learn precision, perseverance, and patience.
Because you made them walk to school.
Because you made them come home for lunch.
Because you made them walk back to school.
Because you have people with The Secret whom I can call for free, and they’ll make 32 warts on the sole of my foot disappear. Just like that.
Because, by far, you have the sexiest watchmakers in the world.
It took some getting used to, but I’ve learned to love the peace and quiet,
that Sundays are sacred, no matter what your religion; thank you
for insisting that I NOT mow the lawn or shop on Sundays and
for ensuring that nobody vacuums, mows or flushes when we all could be sleeping.
Because you’re the heart of peace processes worldwide but can rarely name your own president.
You have the only direct democracy, Gruyère to die for and the creamiest chocolate on the planet.
You’re neutral but have enough bunkers to house the whole country and
your highways convert into landing strips by removing the guardrails.
And because, even though over half of you have guns, shootings are rare.
Did I mention that your watchmakers are the hottest? Everything keeps on ticking, no matter what — right on time because of your dashing watchmakers. Right on! Right on!
What I won’t do for a blissful kiss from a Swiss Watchmaker!
Because you’re tolerant and inclusive, even though one in four of your residents is foreign — including me and mine.
You even tolerate my French and let me teach you English.
Because I love teaching you English.
You somehow manage to communicate despite having four languages;
perhaps because you demand respect from everybody, and for everybody, and you expect everyone to be on time — except for cocktails,
for which you’re always 15 minutes late, exactly, which is possible
thanks to those clever watchmaking party animals. God, they crack me up!
You expect the world to know that CH stands for Switzerland and
that S is for some other country.
You can adjust your speeding fines to income and your army knives rock.
You have multicolored carpets of Alpine flowers up there,
palm trees down here in Montreux, and
watchmakers in both who get me going — keep me going —
my time would stop without them.
You’re a 5-star country, Switzerland. I get you. I dig you and
the watchmakers who create gloriousness, inside and out,
that reflect you, themselves, and each precious moment in life
and really know how to make me tick.