I am in Switzerland.
I travelled by train, the first time I’ve done so between countries. It seems like an entirely different mental experience when compared to flying. Flying is very clear on the difference between the Point of Origin and the Destination: you begin at the point of origin, are ushered into a long metal Purgatory tube in which you are forced to eat terrible food and watch worse movies, and you are, after a specified period, at the Destination Holding Area. You show some Destinational people at Destination some papers and, after they’ve uhmed and aahed (or whatever the regional  equivalent of ‘uhm’ and ‘aah’ is), you are told you are now officially at Destination - why not try some of Destination’s famous flans? Or perhaps go watch a traditional Destinationish dog fight? It’s the perfect time of year for it, what with rabies almost never being a problem in the summer. Take the kids! Make a day of it!
Travelling by train between countries feels like more of a gradual assimilation process. After a little while you realise that the houses whizzing by have changed a little, though you couldn’t say how exactly. At some point you realise that the conductor’s deep booming announcements have changed from one language you can’t understand to another you can’t understand (which simultaneously makes you feel both worldly and worried that you not only going to miss your stop but somehow the entire country within which your stop is located.) And then, suddenly, you’re on a platform somewhere and the guy selling cheap train station coffee uses an set of words you don’t know to greet you that differs entirely from the unintelligible greeting coffee sellers in the train stations at your Point of Origin (which you swear you were at only a little while ago) use and you realise you’re at your Destination.
I guess I don’t feel like I’ve ‘arrived’ in Switzerland, so much as I feel like a deep feeling of Switzerland has quietly stolen over me.
