Lucy Jenkins

I’m sat on the train heading to Basel from Geneva, when I notice the announcement and the information board inside the train is now in German. You may not know that Switzerland has two *official languages – French and German. The Röstigraben (Der Röstigraben in German or the barrière de rösti in French) is an invisible barrier between French-Speaking Switzerland and German- speaking Switzerland. But it’s not just the languages that are spoken in both areas that are different. The politics and traditions are also different. As the train makes it way towards Basel, I look forward to the chance to practise my German for the day.

I’m visiting Basel as part of a trip with the *Erasmus Student Network (ESN) run by students from Geneva University. The train ticket cost 15CHF (£13.37) which is a lot cheaper than normal train travel in Switzerland! I arrive at Geneva station at 6:40am on a freezing cold Saturday morning and make friends with two students from Geneva University. Laura is from Belgium and Soraya is from Germany and we spend the three-hour journey getting to know each other.

Once we arrive at Basel station, we get a group photo and are left to explore the city. We head to the nearest coffee shop to get a hot drink. Afterwards, we visit Bider und Tanner, a very popular independent bookstore that is a *bookworm’s paradise with a wide selection of books in different languages. Whilst reading the *blurb of a German novel, I overhear one of the booksellers speaking Swiss German to a customer and enjoy listening to its beautiful sound, even though I don’t understand it.

We then make our way to the beautiful old town with its impressive views over the river Rhine and enjoy lunch at a pizza restaurant. Following lunch, we spend our time visiting high street shops as well as the wonderful German Christmas market. Here, we find lots of wooden huts selling anything and everything from Glühwein (mulled wine), Bratwurst (fried sausage), and flavoured nuts, to dream catchers, jewellery, and dog treats! The atmosphere is full of fun and festive cheer, you can see that people are really enjoying being out and about after two years of Covid disruptions.

One of my personal *highlights of the Christmas market was seeing the huge Weihnachtspyramide (Christmas pyramid) as it reminded me of my dear German nan who handed down a normal-sized one to my dad, and then to myself. It’s a wonderful, traditional Christmas decoration with carefully crafted wooden pieces on different levels of a carousel. Each level has a different nativity scene. The flames from the special candles that surround the bottom of the carousel power the *propellers that make it turn.

Leaving behind the busy Christmas market, we make our way back to the station after a long and cold day exploring the beautiful city of Basel to catch the train back to Geneva.

Buongiorno a tutti!

So, I’m back in the UK, and I’ve had a chance to think about my time in Italy. Today I’ll be talking about one really *memorable moment: teaching a 23-year-old Italian man how to turn a kettle on!

I already knew that kettles weren’t common in Italian homes, but I hadn’t realised just how alien the idea of a kettle is to Italians.

So, why do we use kettles and Italians don’t? I decided to do some research into the *origins of the kettle to find out!

First of all, the word ‘kettle’ comes from the Old English* word ‘cetil’, and it can be traced all the way back to the Latin word ‘catillus’, meaning a ‘deep pan or dish for cooking’ (OED, 2022).

There is evidence that kettles were being used, even before the word itself was created! For example, *archaeologists have found a bronze vessel* used to boil water that dates back to *3000BC!

Different sorts of kettles became popular in different places around the world as water was boiled to make it clean. Iron kettles were most common as travellers, soldiers and families would use these to cook food and boil water (Aqua Libra, 2020).

However, in *Ancient China, people would improve the flavour of water by adding tea leaves, which resulted in the creation of tea!

As this tradition became more common in Chinese culture, porcelain* kettles were made specifically to make tea with (In The Kitchen, 2017).

The British were influenced by these traditions and our love for the kettle comes from our *obsession with tea.

When tea was first brought to Britain from Asia in the 17^th century, it was only drunk by the richest people in society. But, as time went on, tea became more available, and so did the equipment used to make it. So, by the late 18^th century, copper kettles had started to appear in British homes.

In the 20^th century, the stovetop kettle arrived in British homes, along with the whistling kettle, which would let out a *piercing noise to let you know that the water had boiled! Eventually, these kettles were replaced by the modern electric kettle, which is what most of us use today.

So why didn’t kettles become popular in Italy? Because tea itself never became popular!

Italians love coffee and coffee culture, which has grown more and more popular ever since coffee first arrived in Venice in the 17^thcentury.

At the start of the 20^th century, the strong coffee known as espresso was invented in Milan, which lead to the creation of the first coffee bars that you can now find all over Italy (Neighbourhood Coffee Roasters, 2022).

So, while we Brits were boiling water for tea in kettles, Italians were making strong coffee in moka pots*, which could be used on a stovetop much like a traditional kettle in the UK.

A kettle may be a rare sight in Italy, but I’ve yet to visit an Italian home without a moka pot or an espresso machine.

With all this in mind, should I really be surprised that a fully-grown Italian man could not work an electric kettle? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

The night of the 11^th – 12^th of December 2022 marked 420 years since a historic battle between *Protestants and *Catholics in Geneva.

To celebrate the Genevoises (people from Geneva) defeating the Catholic soldiers, a yearly festival called ‘La Fête de L’Escalade’ takes place with a weekend full of events across the city.

At dusk, on a bitterly cold Sunday afternoon, I watched just some of the activities that celebrate one of Geneva’s oldest traditions.

There was a *procession organised by the city’s historical *re-enactment group with men, women, and children led by groups of drummers and *flautists.

People paraded on horseback or on foot, wearing historical costumes. They proudly carried flags with the *coat of arms of Geneva, fire-lit torches, *muskets, and ladders.

Although a ladder may sound strange, the festival name ‘L’Escalade’ comes from the French verb d’escalader (to climb), and the ladder represents the attacking troops who used ladders to climb the city walls.

Throughout the city centre, there were lots of stalls selling mulled wine (‘vin chaud’ in French and ‘Glühwein’ in German), roasted chestnuts (‘marrons chauds’ in French and ‘geröstete Kastanien’ in German), and bread with a special type of melted cheese called ‘raclette’ drizzled on top.

Keeping with the theme of food, all the supermarkets in Geneva sell a *cauldron (‘une marmite’ in French, ‘ein Kessel’ in German) made of chocolate which celebrates the moment a brave Genevoise cook called Catherine Cheynel threw a boiling cauldron of soup over one of the attackers! The cauldron represents the *resistance and the courage of the Genevoises.

The parade itself wound its way through the packed streets and lanterns were handed out to children.

The procession finished outside the cathedral where the choir sang ‘Cé qu’é lainô’ (He who is high), the hymn of Geneva in the local *dialect called Arpitan, which sounds a lot like the British national anthem ‘God Save the Queen/ King’.

The hymn, composed after the battle, has 68 verses and tells the story of L’Escalade and the victory of the Genevoises over the Savoyards (the Catholic troops of the *Duke of Savoy).

A bonfire was lit outside the cathedral where a large crowd formed. It was here that I met Alma and Mathias, a married couple who live in Geneva.

Together, we watched young men with red and white *sashes, joining hands and forming a circle around the bonfire to sing the Picoulet, a folk song dating back to the Middle Ages. It is well known around French-speaking Switzerland and sung during festivals. The Picoulet is a fun song, where a group of men stand in a circle dancing and singing about different parts of the body, like fingers, hands, and elbows…it was a great way to keep them warm during the festival!

Whilst in Geneva, it has been really lovely to have the chance to see such an important local festival which offers lots of fun for all the family.

Hi everyone!

I am a little frustrated and disappointed writing this blog today. After an English lesson I taught to a group of Italian school children, I found out that they think our much-loved cheddar cheese is the feeble*, orange cheese slice found on McDonald’s burgers in Italy. How embarrassing!

This made me think about how sometimes, the true meaning of something can get lost when it moves from one country to another. Just like our cheddar cheese in Italy!

The sharing of cultures is a wonderful thing – who doesn’t love trying food from another culture?! It means we get to learn about and experience different parts of the world and sometimes, it means we get to learn about places that we would never otherwise encounter.*

But, when an iconic* British food such as cheddar cheese is not correctly understood in another culture, and it becomes a slice of bright orange, plastic, McDonalds cheese(!!), what does it tell us about what happens during this process of exchange and sharing?

Let’s look at what happens when we bring things from one culture into another.

Take pizza as an example. In the UK we generally know that a Domino’s pizza is not exactly like a standard Italian pizza.

Although we appreciate what it is, we know that if we want to try an authentic* Italian pizza, we should probably go to an Italian family-run restaurant, or Italy itself. But if we saw an authentic, Italian pizza, we’d still recognise it as a pizza, right?

So Italian Pizza, and Dominos pizza, aren’t the same thing… but they’re both pizza. What a wild concept!

But, when we were talking about cheddar, my students actually protested* when I told them that the image in front of them was cheddar cheese. They told me that it couldn’t be cheddar because it wasn’t orange.

It’s clear to me that what they think of as cheddar in Italy is so far from what British people think of as cheddar, that it doesn’t really give an insight* into British food culture.

We’re seeing two different things!! Yes, we use the same name same, but are we really sharing a part of our culture, if what we see, and what they see, is a totally different thing!?

I decided that actually, the meaning of the word ‘Cheddar’ itself has been completely lost when it moves to Italy.

Although they may know the name of the cheese, very few people thataren’t from the UK know that Cheddar is the name of the place that the cheese comes from!

And, if this orange cheese by the name of Cheddar has no connection to where it originally comes from, how can we call it Cheddar cheese at all?

Can you think of any other examples of exported* foods that have completely lost their meaning when they’ve crossed into another country?

Or maybe you think that the sharing of cultures is more important than something getting lost in translation?* Let me know your thoughts and ideas in the comments.

Until next time, baci!