Banasch.

Among other wicked things in Switzerland, they tend to enjoy a drink called just like that here. It is a 50-50% mix of beer and lemonade, Sprite, mostly, and tastes like something Estonian men would name another liquid and definitely not consume. But when you have just finished your working day at 17h30 sharp, found your way through the crowds of Swiss heading towards their dinner, climbed up your good friend's balcony with the view on the Alps and other balconies with lots and lots of red geraniums – a Banasch is simply a bliss.

Mixes are curious things, actually, there are all kinds of them around and they cause mixed feelings. I was about to shut down my computer the other day to leave the office, and just before klicking the button I suddenly noticed I had Windows Messenger installed in my computer. I had been offline since Frankfurt, since I had left Estonia, really, and whoops. There it was after the computer update from Wednesday before. I logged in, and my blue and red fifty something contacts filled the screen. Online and offline contacts were mixed, and my feelings now got mixed, too, because it was like having a banasch in the Old Town of Tallinn – just would'nt mix... I realised I had logged back in to much more than a chatting program, there were people listed still sitting behind their desks, there was the Estonian ticking of the clock – going one hour later and at least twice as fast as in Berne – I could almost hear the sounds of deadlines the next morning, ringing mobile phones, starting cars, meetings-meetings-meetings, nightclubs after work, eating at night, high heels, killing feet, alarm clock at six thirty, busy-busy-busy... I stared at them for a while and realised I better have this Estonian-Swiss mix stirred but not shaken.

I logged out, put off the lights, locked the door and dialled Claudia. She said I should bring the lemonade and I said I would be there by six.

/What are you doing tonight?/
/Kuule, mis sa täna õhtul teed?/

Ladies, this question in Switzerland equals a marriage proposal. I have just recently come to that conclusion after long-term observations, some personal experience and having to turn down two of them over the last couple of weeks.

I herewith take the liberty to describe how I see it. At first there is the question. As a woman you then have two possibilities: either decide immediately upon a good enough reason why you are already booked (I am going out with my boyfriend is an effective one, by the way) or just say the truth which, usually does not have anything you could not get away from (even if you indeed had a date with the boyfriend, by the way). The worst part in this case is, if you are still not very sure if you wanted to completely shut this guy off or if you were actually considering giving him a chance. So in case you say you are busy you should still leave a slight twist to it that makes it possible to change your plans should it turn out the guy is good enough after all.

In order to back up my presumption let us decide we were honest this time and therefore, said “Jaah, eigentläch nüüt...” (I have no plans, so you can ask me out)
Then the poor man has to come up with something which would not really declear the first date however could later still be defined as The Night It All Started. So, in 99% of the cases he says: “Jaah, wosch eis ga zie?” (Let's get a beer somewhere in a crowded restaurant full of smoke).

So after you have spent the evening sitting on uncomfortable chairs and answering all the hundred and one questions he has got, its time to pay and go. No, he does not usually help you with the coat but if he might take care of your drink.

After a couple of days he sends you an sms trying to look as innocent as possible, it usually says something like “Ich wünsche dir noch einen schönen Tag” (I am about to ask you out again). Sad version of what happens now is if you had lost all your interest and have no idea how to solve the case without breaking the man's heart but otherwise, you could start keeping a gift-list.

Some time after a half a year you will be introduced to the parents and after about 20 months taken to Grandmum's birthday party. The rest is predictable.

I have started calling these relationships Twenty-Years-Together-And-Then-We-Get-Married. And, mark my words, the wedding preparation takes another year or two.

I guess the reason why I am awfully busy every evening is that I would like getting married take place a bit more naturally – on a dance floor or an occasional get-together of a friend of a friend. I dislike questions whatsoever and even more I prefer not to answer them. I mean, why on earth do you need to ask each other how your last weekend was and what you have planned for the next. There is also no need to know about all the holidays you have spent in the South of France.

I sometimes wish you could say things that are in the brakets out loud. This way you might get your questions answered before you even had to ask them and still have a lot of them left to be asked even after you have been married. And this way, I might even change my mind about already having plans for tonight.

love match
noun
a marriage based on the mutual love of the couple rather than social or financial considerations.

The relationship between me and Switzerland is definitely a love match. Isn't it love when you can live together without nagging too much on each other. If you permit, the amount of nagging can easily determine your relationship. Nagging is usually based on simple questions asked out of curiosity but the turning point of them is always just getting on each other's nerves.

Anway, there are millions of questions you may want to ask Switzerland as an average Estonian. Why cannot the bus doors open automatically? Why do you have to make communication so difficult by having to remember everyone's names when you first meet them and then use it in every sentence thereafter? (greetings to Kaisa) Why do you eat macaroni with apple jam? Can't you just finish your conversation by saying goodbye and not a ten-time here and there with seeyou-thankyou-have-a-nice-day-you-too? Why can't you possess just a little bit of this healthy humour we tend to in the North.

But you see, I do not nag about the above listed, because Switzerland might just be the love of my life. Yet, when you look at us, we probably seem like one of those couples you always ask yourself how on earth those two came to be together. For example, I do not enjoy walking up and down the mountains. I am quite cold towards the praized chocolate and the smell of cheese I am not a fan of, either. I cannot jass (greetings to Yvonne and Adrian) and I hate skiing. But love is there. I adore the mornings I can push the little red-green button to open the doors to a warm bus. There is nothing more convenient than Swiss politeness, so easy and if you obey the rules, so effective. Traditions like eating white bread from Migros on Sunday mornings, having a four-o'clock-snack every day and concidering after-21h00-phone-calls extremely rude make my life complete. Switzerland loves me even if I am really stupid and forget my purse full of cash in a phone booth. Because in Switzerland it is in the lost-and-found office. (This is a true story). How can you not love someone like that right back again.

As everyone else around, we have had hard times, too. There was this time when I wanted to cross the border in Zurich Airport and they wanted to put me in jail because they were convinced I was a prostitute. Of course I did indeed not have a return ticket and was not in the mood of speaking in the bernese dialect, so it pissed him off. I perfectly understand it now, however, back in 1998 I really thought I had lost him. Since then, I always do my utmost to mind my mouth when it comes to choosing the language. In my Swiss life I was born and brought up in Berne, and occasionally I am forced to lie about my grandparents being Hansruedi and Marlies, just to keep out of long explainings, but Mike, seriously, I cannot write in bäärndüütsch, because there are no rules... Come to think of it, this is one of the very few things here that does not come with rules.

There are also things I cannot understand or maybe just do not get the logics behind it. Like why on earth did you come up with this little washing towel for your face? Why are you not supposed to throw your Rabidog bag that already has a knot on it into a normal trash bin, instead, you have to march with the yellow baggy all through the city to find a green bin tailor-made for the kaka in your hand. But I refuse to let any of that come between me and my Switzerland. This love does not base on materia. This is not a relationship of nagging. This is a love match.

First days are cool. First days of school. First working days. First days of holidays. First days of sun in spring and first autumn days in Tallinn. First summer days in Berne.

There is this ad I pass every day when I leave the office in Stadtbachstrasse. A coffee-commercial, really, but it says it^s as mild as the feeling of the best is yet to come. How very true.