The New Girl in Town

“Hi, I am Helen. We got here a week ago”, said the woman I was meeting for the first time at the mums’ coffee morning. As I heard her say that, her apprehensive vibes touched a corner of my heart that I had been to before. I could feel what she was feeling. I saw the look on her face throughout the morning. She looked a little confused, a little scared, but also determined.

As she was bombarded with the information about Swiss laws, the time shops shut down, how cold or not cold the place can be, the half-card for public transport, the indoor places she can take her kids to when it is cold and what sort of outdoor activities she can enjoy with her family in the summer, she was overwhelmed and probably thinking in her head “how am I going to do this”. Her stuff was to arrive from the US in 3 weeks. She was living in a hotel and while her kids went to school in the morning, she struggled to do her grocery and get her electronics by trying to communicate in a language she did not know.

7 months ago, I was her. The first month was horribly tough. Shehrbano was just 8 weeks when I got here and very used to the Pakistani ‘godi’ style. I had to hold her the entire day, her sleeping schedule was not established and the unopened boxes that lay in the other room beckoned me with full force. But, I achieved very little each day. I was eager to organize the cupboards and get my kitchen running and it was frustrating to not be able to do any of it. For days, we did take-aways from restaurants. And mind you, Swiss food isn’t the most appetizing. One evening, when Faizaan came home from work, all 3 of us were crying. Bano needed mama, Minha needed mama and mama probably just needed her own mama.

The initial few weeks also strained the relationship Minha and I shared. Not just because there was a 3^rd person in the equation but because I had to do so much more than I had ever done. There was just too much I expected of her and, for a while, I forgot she’s still a child. I had to learn to become a stay at home mother responsible for cleaning, cooking, ironing, the laundry, doing the grocery and managing all of that with a smile. It was hard.

I did not know the way around. The ingredients familiar to me were not available. Those that were, I wasn’t familiar with them. The town was small, so different from the bustling Karachi. Everything shut down at 6. Aur Sundays to jaisey qabaristan ke barabar (welcome to central Europe.) I had to plan for the entire weekend when fetching stuff from the store on Friday, from the dabalroti to the pyaaz. I did not know anyone. The only interaction I had with human kind was when I said Gruetzi and Ciao Ciao at the cash counters. It was terribly lonely.

We arrived in August and though the tail end of the summer was lovely, the winter came soon. With the sun beginning to set at 4 pm, it got extremely depressing. Our trips to McDonald’s after school also stopped, thanks to the icy winds.

However, before I knew it, I was braving it out in the snow with the baby. Sometimes, even by choice to just have a stroll. I began to appreciate the scenic surroundings. And enjoying sitting by the water. The baby seemed less of a monster and, with the help of the Translate app, grocery less challenging. I discovered the chef in me and began to enjoy my own company. The uphill climb to get home became less difficult, despite having a baby, a huge ass stroller and heavy groceries. I found my favorite cafes, the dishes that I liked at different restaurants. I found my favorite woman at the cash counter at the local grocery store too. I found my favorite buddhi aunty on the streets. And the favorite buddhay uncle on the bench.

I started using the train on my own to get some time out with Bano. And sometimes without her as well. I finally felt some space in my brain clearing up to accommodate parents’ gatherings at the school or joining the mums for coffee mornings. I even got familiarized with a few faces and we started greeting each other on the streets. I found a few Pakistani girls in Zurich and over a few cups of coffee, I started to gel with them too. I now feel ready to go beyond just loving my Old Town and joining a book club or a hiking group.

And as I looked at the woman jotting down all the information in a diary, I realized I made it. I learnt how to love my new home, how to call it my place. I learnt how to miss Karachi and my family a little less. I learnt how to replace biryani with the doner box as my usual meal. With spending more time developing my blog, I learnt how to miss IBA a little less (well, with this I am still struggling). And I, the new girl in town, wasn’t really the new one anymore. Others had come to take my place and I had graduated. As I found myself giving her Schaffy updates and extending my help as well as my friendship to make her feel welcome, I said “you WILL make it” to the new girl in town.

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