Nest

Nest. Bird. Home. Safety. A common chain of words that people associate together. Maybe that’s why devices in Google smart home ecosystem are called Nest. Contrary to a common belief, a nest is not necessarily a cozy safe haven for young birds. As they grow older, hungrier and louder, it’s easier to attract predators. Not to mention parasites sharing their home with nestlings. Parents want their young to leave the nest as soon as possible. Young birds want to wait until they are able to fly. When their wings are not developed enough, fall from the nest can be fatal. For some birds it’s advantageous to fledge prematurely – when they cannot fly well, but they can survive the fall. Fledglings are not yet fully functional adults and still need support from their parents. Parents can find different shelters for each offspring and thus reduce the chances of losing them all at once.

I didn’t believe I could fly when I was 18. I was testing my wings on overnight travels around Central Europe, slowly exploring the world around my nest. Staying at home became uncomfortable, so I impatiently waited until I could fledge to university. I picked Olomouc in Czechia, 150 km away from my village in Slovakia. Not too far, not too close. Similar, but still a different country. As time went by, I traveled to my first nest once per week, once per two weeks, once per month. I learned to fly a car and even now, driving makes me feel free like a bird in the sky. I understood that I could not build a home alone, I needed people that sing the same tune.

Many years have passed. I flew all across the world, created many homes. I don’t feel a strong connection to Slovakia, I would rather describe myself as a European citizen. My reasons to emigrate were personal, not just economical. The best way to describe them is “not feeling home at home”. Not happy about the environment, not fitting. Now I find myself in a cozy city of Zürich, not far from a lake and a forest, with the same climate as Slovakia. In a way this makes me feel like a child again; it was great to grow up surrounded by nature.

Since I moved to Switzerland, I have met one Slovak man at work and one Czech woman in my art class. Let’s be honest, I also didn’t make any special effort finding my fellow-countrymen. Until now.

This is a story about my first contact with the Czecho-Slovak community in Zürich.

Every ~3 months there is a CZ-SK party in Kloten. I found the events on Facebook, but I was either out of town or too lazy to go. Why so? Kloten is a village lying in the shadow of enormous wings of Airbus A380. In simple words, Zürich airport is in Kloten. It takes me 30 min to reach the airport, one hour to reach the club in Kloten. After one year I finally collected enough curiosity to move my ass beyond the airport. The goal was to find new friends and hear some stories. For example, what makes people leave Slovakia and come back? Why Zürich?

It was an unusually warm late September night, but I still decided to put on long leggings with Slovak patterns (see the title image). There was nothing about the dress code in the party invite. However, retrospectively, if I compare myself to other women at the party, my comfortable attire was completely off. I got off a regional train in Kloten and I planned to walk to the Floor club. In front of me I immediately noticed two loud Slovak women in their 40s. They were hard to miss, imagine high heels, miniskirts and shiny gold Valentino handbags. They were clearly drunk, sipping on Red bulls and ready to party. I started thinking how to avoid them. Hmmm, shall I slow down or pass them? We’ll meet at the party anyway…

I overheard their dialogue:
“How far is the club?”
“I’m not sure, around 10 minutes walking.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? We’re not going to walk that.”
“Let’s try to hitchhike! Maybe we’ll catch someone driving to the party.”

The women started enthusiastically waving at the first car passing by. The car stopped and opened the window. One woman leaned in. A Pretty woman scene happening in front of me!

Believe it or not, the driver was Slovak, heading to the party!
The woman yelled: “I hope you’re not going to screw us over! Are you really going to the party?”
“Yes, don’t worry, I got you, jump in!” the driver replied.
As a Latin proverb says, Fortune favors the bold.

The road towards the club was now dark and silent. I passed an industrial area full of car stores. The Floor club, with red light outdoor decoration, strongly reminded me of a brothel. Further research online confirmed the vibe, the club is regularly hosting Fetish de luxe events. The drunk women made it here as well. I entered the club and immediately felt uncomfortable. The music was blasting, so I thought: Shit, how am I going to make friends if they cannot hear me? That was challenge nr. 1. I considered leaving immediately. However, the song that was playing at the moment gave me a bit of courage (Načo pôjdem domov meaning Why would I go home?).

I ate maková štrúdľa and ordered a glass of soda. Challenge nr. 2: I couldn’t drink alcohol because of antibiotics. Alcohol would really help to make friends. Alcohol connects people. You got this Sandra, you will find a way!

I took my drink and joined the dancing circle. I waved at an older guy next to me, smiling as friendly as possible. He ignored me. Ok, nevermind. I tried dancing a bit and observing people. I was the only one dressed in Slovak patterns. Nobody seemed to notice my pretty leggings, or nobody cared. I often dress up for parties to give people a chance to compliment me and break the ice 😀 Well, this trick didn’t work. Next one.

I walked as far as possible from the speakers. There was a sofa and a table for a small group of people. It was occupied by four women and there was plenty of space to sit down.I asked the nearest woman if I could join the group. Nicely, politely. She gave me a surprised look and told me to hold on. She passed a message to a woman sitting in the middle.

After a short wait, the corner woman got back to me with a clear “No”. The queen commanded – I wasn’t welcome to the VIP space. I recognized her from Facebook, that was the organizer.

Wow, what the hell just happened? I returned to the dance floor and tried to calm down. Didn’t work. I hated the party. The music was in a language that I understood, but I had never heard it before. If I could request a song from the DJ, it would be “I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien, I’m an Englishman in New York”. I left Slovakia 15 years ago and I never stayed up to date with pop music. But I’m not even sure if these songs were made recently, I simply don’t like folk-pop 😀

I noticed a lonely guy sitting at the bar, looking just as confused as me. I made my way towards him, trying to find a friendly soul to connect with. As it turned out, he was Serbian. No wonder he looked confused! He only came for drinks; his buddy was a bartender. We shouted in English for a while, it was quite exhausting. He was cool until I mentioned how many languages I spoke. Then he suddenly became weird about it. In his words, it was difficult for him to learn English. OK dude, I’m better with languages, can you just get over it? He couldn’t. Soon he excused himself for the bathroom and I never saw him again.

I seriously needed another drink. Becherovka would be great, but I couldn’t. I was ready to leave afterwards, this party was a big failure for me. I resigned and decided not to make any further effort, just finish my drink.

A guy wearing a trucker hat said hello to me at the bar. His name was Fero and he worked as a welder in Zürich. I’d never met a welder before and there it was, my interesting story that I came for!

Fero studied civil engineering high school and left Slovakia to build houses all over the world. Recently he learned welding because they pay good money in Switzerland. Talking to him was easy, he was honest and authentic. And that’s exactly what he thought about me. Stress from the party vanished from my face. Mission accomplished; maybe I found a friend!

Afterwards I met two Czech guys who just moved into the country. They live in Kloten, just like Fero. There must be a reason why CZ-SK parties happen in Kloten and not somewhere closer to the center. What if many immigrants fly away from Slovakia and don’t go further than the airport? The Czech guy that I talked to worked for the airport. I tried to be nice and mentioned that I could say hi next time I’m flying somewhere. Not possible. He works in the logistics center. According to Fero, it’s hard to make it as an immigrant in Switzerland. The country needs workers, but there are difficult conditions for them to settle in here. For this reason, Fero is building a house in Slovakia from Swiss money.

Fero and I had a lot of fun on the dance floor. We both had no idea how to dance to folk-pop music, but it was great to be clumsy together.

I returned home after only two hours at the party.  Exhausted and mind-blown, I shared the stories with my boyfriend. He’s the reason I stayed in Switzerland, I want to share my life with him. He’s also responsible for furnishing our home with Google devices. Surrounded by Google Nest speakers, I can’t help but think – is it my time to nest?