Two and a Half Weeks to Preview a New Life

30 October 2026

A trip to a Swiss grocery store seals the move. When I considered moving to Switzerland, I had so many mixed feelings. I mean Switzerland is known for skiing and hiking (I don’t like either), cheese (pass), chocolate (let’s talk fair trade), oh and hot cheese dishes (what?!). And yet, because I fell in love with a Swiss man eager to return to his roots, Switzerland became the best option for us to build a life together. So, in October 2024, I spent two and a half weeks in my future homeland. Despite getting married earlier that year, my husband and I had started our marriage as a long distance couple, him in Switzerland, and me in the United States. After not seeing each other for six weeks, we had two and a half weeks to talk without worrying about the time, to enjoy dancing in the kitchen while making dinner, to enjoy the silence and remember the intangibles of our connection. During those two weeks, I got a little preview of my life in Switzerland and learned the small, mundane details about my soon-to-be new town. First, I visited the library (of course). As soon as I walked in, I felt strangely comforted by the librarians consistent shushing of children, the elderly seeking shuffling about, and the people of various ages studying for exams. Libraries are an essential part of every community; I’ve always loved them and I knew as scared as I felt, that I would find comfort there. What was I scared of, you ask? Everything. I felt scared of how deeply I loved this man that I was even considering this move. I felt scared of how often I would feel alone despite that love. I felt scared of having to start again with friendships and identity and carving out a space for myself to be seen and heard. The irony of course being my fear of being seen, but that’s a story for another day. The size of the “English Books” section came as a real surprise. Three shelves. Ok, maybe I needed to rethink the “library as comfort” concept. A few days later, I continued my exploration of town with a run to the grocery store. Secretly, I hoped to understand exactly why Swiss people love cheese so much. The grocery store held no answers, and only produced more questions. Why do all high school aged boys (no matter the country) hang out in front of the store? Why didn’t the store carry chicken thighs? Why was the bread section so small? Why couldn’t I weight my fruit at the counter? In my sea of questions, I didn’t even stop to consider that my lack of Swiss-German fluency would still be an issue or that procedures for paying might be different. As I arrived at the front of the till and spread out my groceries, I put up grapes as the last item. As I stood there, the clerk nicely, but firmly said something to me in Swiss-German. I said, “sorry, sprechen Sie English?” (do you speak English?) “Nein.” (No.) came the firm reply. She did not speak English. She repeated herself in Swiss German and we stared at each other. Blink. Blink. Finally, someone behind me said “weigh” and I understood I had to weigh my grapes before she could scan them. I shuffled over to scale past the counter, weighed the grapes, thanked her profusely, and quickly left. What a humbling moment of error and linguistic inadequacy. It was exactly what I subconsciously wanted, to understand the awkward moments and intricacies that come with moving to a new country and not speaking the language. To be reminded that the universality of English doesn’t apply in all walks of life. Going to the grocery store quickly became my favorite activity. I would look for reasons to go, eager to interact in an ordinary way, without romanticizing the move, but instead, meeting the challenges head on and learning from them. Those two weeks, I learned to weigh my fruit, I learned the word for receipt, and I learned the importance of understanding nonverbal communications. I spent two weeks as an outsider, a visitor obviously confused and trailing behind. And it felt …not great. At the same time, it was the most aware and awake I felt in a really long time. In America, I felt so sure of myself in most situations, even if a little numb, and in Switzerland I was so clearly unsure of everything, but felt more alive. Could I build a life here? Could I happy here? I realized, there was only one way to find out. Thanks for reading “Becoming An Immigrant, Again!” Originally published July 21, 2025 on Substack.