Adultery

by Paulo Coelho

I live in a country that has decided to happily shut itself off from the world. When you decide to visit the villages around Geneva, one thing becomes immediately clear: there is nowhere to park, unless you can use an acquaintance’s garage. The message is: don’t come here, outsiders, because the view of the lake below, the majestic Alps on the horizon, the wildflowers in the springtime, and the golden hue of the vineyards in autumn, all are the legacy of our ancestors who lived here completely undisturbed. And we want to keep it that way, outsiders, so don’t come here. Even if you were born and raised in the next city over, we are not interested in what you have to say. If you want to park your car, look for a big city, full of spaces for just that. We are so isolated from the world that we still believe in the threat of major nuclear war. All Swiss buildings are required to have fallout shelters. A deputy recently tried to annul this law, but Parliament stood against it: Yes, there may never be a nuclear war, but what about the threat of chemical weapons? We must protect our citizens. So the costly fallout shelters continue to be built, and are used as wine cellars and storage spaces while we wait for the Apocalypse.

As discreet as the Swiss are, there are two situations when they become unrecognizable. The first is in traffic. If someone lingers a fraction of a second to start his car after the light turns green, we immediately start to honk. If someone changes lanes, even with a turn signal flashing, he will always get a dirty look in the rearview mirror. The second concerns the dangerous event of change, whether it’s our house, job, or behavior. Here, everything is stable, everyone behaves as expected. Please don’t try to be different or suddenly reinvent yourself, because you’ll be threatening our whole society. This country worked hard to reach its “finished” state; we don’t want to go back to being “under renovation.”

Coelho's impression of the Swiss society