Swiss and French drivers

Working over here and commuting backwards and forwards across the border every day, gives me the unique opportunity to see drivers from both countries strut their stuff. It’s always interesting to be an outsider looking at other countries as you see things the locals may not. ‘Wood for the trees sort of thing…’

There are mainly three types of drivers around here. Those from Geneva canton whose plates start with GE, those from Canton Vaud, whose license plates unfortunately are preceded by the initials VD (which is obviously not quite as mirthful to Francophones as it is to us Anglophones!), and French drivers from my ‘Departement’ whose plates end in 74 denoting the ‘Haute Savoie’ region.

Geneva drivers are fairly representative of Swiss drivers and the national psyche in general in that they tend to be very (sometimes overly) efficient. Be a second too slow off the lights when they turn green and they are soon leaning on the horn. ‘The light is green, you should be going!’. Commit a minor offence such as drift into what they now consider to be their lane on one of those ‘3-into-2’ merge roads, and they will sound their horn at the transgressing driver with the same outraged indignation as if you had just suggested copping a quick feel of their sainted mother (the fact that the car concerned may sport a yellow (French) license plate seems to be an added incentive to double the length and intensity of any klaxoning to show their wounded feelings). No doubt the French comfort themselves with the idea that their nuclear ‘’Force de frappe’ could be much more usefully engaged targeting that pesky Genevois bureaucrat in the green Audi!

People from Canton Vaud are of an altogether different genre. This Canton is the one that runs along the north shore of Lake Geneva (the south shore being the French side is called the Cote D’or or ‘Golden coast’) and is where the Swiss well to do live. These folks are all the investment bankers and wealthy industrialists of the region and boy do some of them have the attitude to go with it. Check the plate of the Porsche roaring ahead of you at the lights only to come cutting back in front a micro second later and it’s probably from Canton Vaud. The BMW blasting down the fast lane of the auto-route and flashing at you when you don’t get back in the medium/slow lane fast enough…Canton Vaud. It’s as if they all have this genetic ‘I’m rich/important/Swiss - get out of my way' attitude. I occasionally have visions of gilded 18th century carriages carrying the upper classes galloping through the cobbled streets and scattering the proletariat before them. Feel free to throw in the term ‘Peasant’ at the end of the ‘make way’ statement now and again. ‘Beggin’ your majesties pardon Milord…!’

French divers male and female , by contrast, come into this world with the inborn knowledge that they are the true legitimate heirs to the great Juan Manuel Fangio. They attack tights bends with the same ‘brio’ as the master himself, leaning into the turns of the local auto-route off ramp with the gusto Fangio would as he twisted around Le Mans. People using the pedestrian crossings are sometimes seen with the same bewildered amusement one would have if seeing spectators walking across Daytona mid race.’ Dammit granny, I had to stop for you – do you know that you obliged me to drop a gear?!’ Moped and scooter riders of both countries seem to be on apprenticeships to Honda racing and wring impressive performances from their tiny 50cc engines!

Generally though, they are predictable and don’t do anything too stoo-pid, not like Arab drivers in Iraq or the United Arab Emirates whose road manners, skills and attitude are of another dimension.

Dubai taxi drivers?! That’s another story for another day…

I left work yesterday at 5pm. I had done everything and was heading out. I drove contentedly past Lake Geneva and the elegant buildings as the sun was setting casting golden rays across the water, and the Jura mountains glowed warmly in the afternoon light.

What a beautiful place I thought to myself. I am so lucky to be here (I also worked damn hard for it too!). Yet an hour earlier I had read an article that popped out at me on the BBC news website and it cast a tinge across the drive.

A chopper had gone down near Camp Taji and it was not looking good for the occupants. I looked for names hoping I would not see any fellow contractors I knew. From what I could make out, it was mostly military personnel on Ops.

You spend a year with these people - contractors and/or service personnel, eat with them, crack jokes or grizzle about the heat/the dust/the mud. They look after you on chopper flights at night across 'Indian territory'. You don't just walk away and forget it all never happened.

There's a lot of emotions I have about this and I won't go into them here - it is private. Suffice to say my thoughts that evening were with others, not just myself.

L'Or blanc est arrive' ! (The white gold has arrived!)

I went to La Clusaz last Saturday as it was the first weekend after our recent major snowfall - and boy was it popular! Everyone was off to the mountains to go (mostly) Alpine skiing to get some of that white powder.

I went around the easier (Green) circuits a couple of times to warm up and then I thought I was ready for the harder stuff - the red circuits! They are a lot longer and the track went over the crest of a ridge before going down the other side to the valley below. It was fantastic! A long winding descent that was fast enough to have me going 'whooooooaaaaaaa…' most of the way down, yet still be in control and able to enjoy it.

It was awesome, but the only drawback with cross-country skiing – unlike ordinary skiing – is that you are expected to make your own way back up as there are no chair lifts!! D'oh! So I skied back up in a herringbone fashion zigzagging my way steadily higher and higher.

The scenery was just fantastic and every now and then I would stop to admire it (and truth be told to take a breather from climbing that big-ass mountain! Phew!). The circuit was a long route of about 9.6kms so when I got back to the start I was pretty durn tired!! I gave my skis and batons back to the hire place and the guy asked 'Had I finished?'. I gave him a weary but very happy smile and replied 'Oh yeah!' Now I'm gonna get me a Vin Chaud (warm herb wine) from the Brasserie - soak up the scenery and toast my accomplishment.

I've been taking small black 20 litre day pack for the last few weeks to put in my snacks when I stop for lunch in the forest, a spare fleece, water bottle and maps etc. Last year no one used to ski with these but these last few weeks I've noticed more and more folks wearing them. Most were using these trendy spandex leggings and tight tops with the usual sponsor logos. Now there are more folks going Classic Nordic style without the fancy 'Gucci gear'. I was introduced to the sport by Norwegians who thought the 'condom suits' as they call them and the fancy gear were hysterical. Show up in the remote mountains wearing that stuff and the locals would nod and smile. They are fine for racing but for a day in the back blocks?... Perhaps we've started a trend back to the origins of the sport!

I'm going back again this weekend for another go and am booking myself on the Nordic Skating -style cross-country skiing for March. It's going to be awesome. Roll on the next snow fall!