For any feedbacks or comments, please use our contact form

The Zug Post in the news, watch the video here

Paradise (apparently)

After a week of living in our new house, my neighbour Lidia, a second generation Swiss of Italian origin, knocked on my door. With a suspicious expression, she whispered in French: “Excuse me if I’m disturbing you but we met two days ago, I’m your neighbour from house number 1, nearest to the railway station. We need to speak; could you come to my house soon as possible?”

Yes, I had seen her before. I had asked myself how anyone could live so close to the railway lines.

If a passenger absent-mindedly threw a carton out of the train window it would have landed right in her garden. And if the train driver were distracted and made a mistake coming into the station, he would have ended up in her living room.

“Certainly, do you want to come in? Would you like some tea?”

Hospitality is sacred in South-Italy, and I try to keep up the tradition.

“No thank you, I would prefer it if you came to my place, I really need to speak to you urgently.”

I left my children with Fanny and followed her to her house. The living room was spotless and orderly; a strong smell of cleaning product hung in the room. I settled myself comfortably in one of her brown sofas. The room was practically empty. No pictures, no ornaments. I didn’t feel at ease. But I was happy; I thought that Lidia might become a new friend.

Lidia questioned: “The girl that comes to you every day, does she help with the cleaning?”

“Yes, you know I have two small children and the house has four floors, so I need a bit of help…”

I was trying to use a slightly confidential tone, thinking I was speaking with another mother who would understand me. She retorted quickly: “I have three children and I have never needed any help, I’ve always done everything myself… anyway.. I need to tell you that the girl who works in your house has been committing obscene acts in front of the windows of my house. My children and I saw her and her lover kissing passionately in his car from the living room window. My children could see everything! I would like you to talk to her or the next time it happens I will call the police. Are they legal? I’m sure that he, the coloured boy, is an illegal immigrant. Am I right? If I call the Police, they will check their residence permits and if they are illegal they will both be thrown out of the country immediately.”

Fortunately Fannie had her papers in order, since she had a Spanish passport. As for her boyfriend, I had no idea. I started to get worried; I felt a cold sweat as the advice of Francesca, the daughter of my mother’s friend, returned to my mind. “Deny everything; deny everything to your neighbours.” (And I had not trusted Francesca…) I should not have needed to worry; our babysitter was legal, but maybe not her boyfriend. But I didn’t want Fanny to be unhappy on account of my nosy neighbours.

Then I said to myself: no, Lidia was Italian, only second generation Swiss, and we Italians couldn’t imagine doing something like that, denouncing somebody… no it was unimaginable. I tried to seem friendly, nice and scandalized at her story and said to her: “I can’t believe that they were kissing in her boyfriend’s car in front of your house. That’s terrible; I will talk to her immediately and make sure it doesn’t happen again. But how old are your children?”

“My son is 16 and my daughter 20.”

I thanked her and went away incredulous and agitated. Once I was back home I talked with Fanny and she assured me that in the future she would be more discreet when snogging with her Nigerian boyfriend. I suddenly felt spied upon by my neighbor, an Italian housewife. Was it possible that her children, in the flower of youth, had nothing better to do than peek at Fanny through the living room window? What an odd family and Lidia, compatriot, was wretched. She hadn’t even asked me where I came from in Italy. And why had she continued to talking to me in French?

Flo Regina
www.paradiseapparently.com


Culture Clashes - Please Comment

Reading Flo Regina's article 'Obscene acts in public places' I am reminded of how difficult it is can be to  integrate into a new culture with very different values and prejudices.

I would like to start a dialog here about our experiences of living abroad.

What has your experience been?

Please share with us, your good and bad moments, and any advice you think would be helpful to those following in your expatriate footsteps.

You can send your comments to welcome@zug4you.ch - with your permission, we will publish them in this section.


back