German and French

Among the things that happened during the last weeks of inactivity in this space, an event of note was our getting the German permanent residence permit. We came to Germany on a “Green Card” visa, valid for five years and due to expire at the end of this year. Five years of stay enabled us to apply for what the Germans call “Niederlassungserlaubniss” – the permanent residence permit. The process involved, among other things, a proof of competence in the German language. We initially wondered if this implied some sort of examination, but we were told it was enough if we could converse in German with the authorities while collecting the application form and submitting it. That did not prove difficult, and three weeks after we submitted our papers we received our new visas. I do not know the exact rights this status confers upon us, but for me what’s important is that it allows us to continue living and working in Germany without having to periodically bother about renewing our visas.

My German teacher T, who kindly offered a certificate as additional proof our my language competence, was relieved to note we were spared further bureaucratic hurdles. My lessons with him continue, of course; the objective of learning the language is far from complete. (On a slightly different note: Before he left for his Christmas break, T mentioned he was going to attend a Vipassanna course in an east-German town. He had done it once a couple of years before; it was rigorous but very satisfying. Leela’s experience with Vipassana came to mind).

* * *

An encounter with a new language is one of the many exciting aspects surrounding a move to a new place. Lausanne is in the French part of Switzerland, and the last week here has taken me back to those early days in Germany, when German was as alien to me as French is now. I’ve managed so far with the most basic words – bonjour, merci, au revoir, pardon; some other words have come my way through interesting encounters.

At a restaurant when we asked for the cheque, the waiter said something like “Addition“, and nodded. We later confirmed it meant cheque.

At a local market while paying for a purchase with a hundred Franc note, the lady behind the counter said something in French of which I understood only one word: petit. No I do not have a note smaller than that, I replied, checking the contents of my purse. She then proceeded to give me the change anyway. On another occasion, I was asked if needed the “ticket“; no thanks, I said, I do not need the bill.

A couple of days back when Wife burned her hand while cooking, I decided to go to the nearby pharmacy for a cream. Since I did not have a dictionary (I still haven’t found a bookshop in the vicinity) I logged on to the net and translated “burn” – Brulure – and jotted it on a sticky-note before leaving for the pharmacy. The girl behind the counter understood English, but I showed her what I had written and she nodded in confirmation.

As I was writing the above lines I wondered if there were some online French lessons I could take to pick up a few more phrases, and I ran into this nice BBC site that offers simple tutorials for spoken French. I have a week more to spend in Lausanne, and its time I did something about the current state of my French. Au revoir!

In Lausanne

It is a small apartment – one room and a bathroom. The room is partitioned into two: the kitchen is separated with the rest by a bar counter that runs along its edge; the rest of the room has a bed, a showcase, two single-seater sofas, a small dining table with a couple of chairs, and three bar stools next to the counter. The side facing outside has windows running end-to-end – the room is filled with light during the day. From the balcony one can see lake Geneva in the distance, and, on clear days, the mountains on the far side.

I’m in Wife’s apartment in Lausanne, Switzerland. It sounds strange to me as well, the phrase “Wife’s apartment”; I’ll have to get used to living in two places over the next eleven months, when Wife shall be doing her MBA at IMD.

We got here last Sunday, driving through snow-covered meadows (I still cannot decide if I like Switzerland better in its green outfit or white). Our routine in the last few days has fallen into a pattern: I get out in the morning and walk to the parking lot next to the lake to place a ticket for the day (it is too expensive to park in front of our apartment), and on my walk back I pick up fresh croissants for breakfast. We spend the morning and afternoon indoors – reading, cooking, setting up the apartment – and in the evening we go shopping (the never-ending list containing things needed for the new home) or meet other IMD batchmates who have recently moved in.

It is a mixed batch, with people from various backgrounds and nationalities. Most students are over thirty (the average experience of an IMD MBA candidate is seven years), and have been in middle-management. Conversations so far have revolved around their background and past experiences, why they chose IMD over other schools (with INSEAD topping the list of discarded colleges), what salaries the previous batches received ( $120K per annum seems to be the average), and what they intend to do after their MBA. It appears most people are looking for a change in their line of work – they’re hoping to figure out what they’d like to do as the course progresses. But there are some who wish to get a broader outlook on management (in contrast to the specific area – like Sales – they have been working on so far), and a course with a focus on General Management seems an appropriate choice for such candidates.

Lausanne is a beautiful city. I’ve seen only parts surrounding the lakeside (I had posted some pictures last year) – there is a lot more to explore, and I hope to do that during the weekends I come visiting over the next eleven months.