Ignorance, thy name is Bubble Boy.

Ranting and rambling ahead.

Now, don't get me wrong. I like most people. I'm not a people hater.

Regardless where they're from, how old they are, what they do for living... If I can have a proper conversation with them, I like them.

But there are those few who rub me the wrong way and probably don't even realise themselves they're doing so. They are too ignorant/young/inexperienced to see the flip side of the coin, unable to understand things are often not only black and white but there are many shades of grey (I'm NOT referring to the housewife porn book here) in between. Those who judge for the sake of judging.

Usually these traits melt away with time, life experience, travelling and age. You get a certain sensitivity towards people. You ask a question, they answer, you take their answer on board and build up the friendship from there. You try not to step on their toes so you poke the ice with a long stick. Gently. This way you learn the boundaries what is ok and what is not. It's a beautiful thing, international and cross cultural relations.

But there are some, not many but still a few, who remain in the ignorant bubble (I'll just call them Bubble Boys and Bubble Girls) no matter how old they are, how much they've travelled and who they've met (had they met Gandhi & Dalai Lama they'd probably tell you only that Gandhi was bald and Dalai lama likes red and yellow).

Unfortunately for me, I have such a Bubble Boy in my class. I knew I would have to remain cool and collective the moment I first talked to him. Not a facial expression in sight and the tone of voice remained monotonic. Like a robot, Arnold style.
Uh-oh. 
For a very animated girl with forever-changing-facial expressions and lively tone of voice, I had some alarm bells going off with these signs. I knew we'll never be the best of buddies but I tried not to judge too hastily as life has taught me that some of the most sarcastic gems hide behind these monotonic stone faced acts.

Unfortunately, my gut instinct was correct. There was no hidden gem.

Here are some things Bubble Boy has flashed in the last few weeks:

Finnish=Russian, no?

(According to him) I'm a Finn, therefore I speak Swedish/Danish/Norwegian (he forgot Icelandic from the mix) and my own language sounds like Russian because it's related to Russian. Even when I spoke Finnish to him, he insisted it sounded Russian. Ok. Houston, we have a serious problem. He wasn't even joking. (insert tears here...the lingos couldn't be further apart.) He still insists Finnish is related to Russian, I just don't know it.

He asked. I answered. He didn't take it on board. Epic Fail with the tone deaf Bubble Boy.

Learning foreign languages - Easy peasy lemon squeezy, don'tcha know!

He also insists he is fluent in Spanish after spending one month in Spain. Yet he can't understand the Spanish lady in our class. But Spanish is "like sooooo easy", according to him. Best month he ever had. Dos cervezas, por favor. Spanish rules, yippee-ki-yay y'all.

I think our standard for "fluent" is a little different.

Eurotrash. Can't even speak proper English. 

He keeps talking to me as if I didn't speak/understand English.
Maybe Bubble Boy's girlfriend can't speak English well enough. Therefore, no foreigner can.
.....But I have many certificates telling me that I'm near native. How was I ever able to study at an Australian University? Work in English?
I know I make mistakes and I'm far from perfect and I'm nowhere near his fluent Spanish (Ha! See? Me does sarcasm, many time. And yes, I just did it again. Did you notice? Did you like it? Was it as good for you as it was for me?). But come on.

When I was blowing my nose this morning (I have a cold), he asked me if my nose was being "bad". BAD??? My nose is GOOD, it just happens to be runny, mister.

As I tilted my head without replying out loud, we got our signals even more crossed.
My head tilt was to indicate "You ARE kidding, right??" and he took it as "She doesn't understand, poor girl. Explain it to her again in simpler terms".

So he repeated....Sloooooowly. Dooooo....youuuuu.....haaaave.......a.....baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad......nooooose.......? (as he grabbed his nose between his index finger and thumb to demonstrate blowing of a nose).

I had to compose myself (inside, I died just a little) and with a smile replied that my nose is not bad, it's just biiiiiig and runny.

-No comeback. Other native speakers laughed.

"You say tomato, I say...."

According to him, I cannot call myself a "housewife" as I have no kids. I'm a fake (yes, seriously he told me this with a straight face).

To challenge his logic, I presented my situation.
We live in a house + I am a wife = Housewife. 
Housewife + kid(s) = Stay-at-home-mum. 
Yes? No? Tick the box, Bubble Boy.

-No comeback.  Just a blank stare.

The bubble that is Switzerland

He loves it here. His girlfriend is here, mountains are beautiful, life is good.

Here's the thing. He has been here for a month and he has had the ready-to-go network that is his girlfriend, her family and her friends. He doesn't have to pay rent as he stays at her place. She takes him around Switzerland in her car. They've met this summer so love is fresh and everything is lovely. The family owns property so they can stay at ski chalets for free. He's on a tourist visa so no obligation to pay for the local healthcare system. All he needed was to plug'n'play. Good on ya, mate.

I've lived here for two years and knew no one here. I was completely uprooted with no safety net. If we want to go somewhere, it'll cost us dearly (travelling, eating out & staying at hotels). As I don't work, I don't meet people. Well, those I meet in the streets aren't exactly my kind of people. They usually want something more than just a friendship, if you know what I mean.

When he first asked if I liked Switzerland and I answered "it's not an easy place to live" he took it as if I hated it here.

I never said that. I kept on repeating that it always depends what your background is, what your values are and where you're coming from. I come from Finland (via some other countries as well). Someone coming from Iraq/Spain/Portugal probably sees Switzerland differently as I do. I know things could work differently, more efficiently and faster because I have witnessed it in my own home country. Switzerland has its quirks and one of those is the love for old fashioned pencil pushing and paperwork. This is just a fact.
Also, where I come from, everyone is entitled to certain things (like healthcare) whereas here it depends how much you annually pay how good a treatment you will get. Want to  have a senior doctor treat you at the hospital? That'll be extra, thankyouverymuch.

And yet, daily he refers to me as "the Switzerland hater". And I keep patiently correcting that I never said anything of the sort but yes I think it is like going back in time a few decades comparing to where I came from. He tells me in his monotonic voice I can't be right because his girlfriend disagrees with my view.

What's that? The girlfriend who is Swiss? And has never been to Finland? Ah yes. My apologies, you're completely right! What was I thinking. Such a selfish, ignorant, stupid girl I am. Sorry I was trying to give a little perspective, to show things aren't simply this or that. There is the "in between".

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small....

Oh lordy. Give me strength. Not all are able to develop, mature and take their head out of their...erm....bubble. Yes, bubble. I could've used the word "ass" but I chose not to. You know why? Because I am above it. 

You can take a man out of the far-away-country and toss him around the globe but you cannot force him to open his eyes and his mind. You cannot force him to have his own opinions. You cannot force him to see all the colours of the rainbow. That there aren't always simply "right" or "wrong". There's also "depends". My truth is not everyone's truth. It's only my experience and view. And just because it doesn't fit Bubble Boy's view, it doesn't mean it's incorrect. It's just different. 

Sigh. Travelling for some people is like pearls for pigs. They'll never learn to poke the ice with a stick. They'll drive on top of it, Top Gear style with a Jeep, and then wonder why they crashed through the ice.