Banking in Switzerland

The U.N. has almost everything one needs in case of earthquake or mass disaster or living in Switzerland.

There are like 6 sections to the UN Geneva complex. (Fret not, I'm not revealing anything that you wouldn't learn on the public tour.) There's Pregny Gate, through which every visitor or newbie must pass for security purposes. There can be many minutes of hold-up if it's a conference day, so I'm told as I escaped with great luck somehow and made it through in 20 minutes. Once the paperwork was all settled and my horrible photo taken, I haven't been back since, now I get to enter the main gate, the Nations gate, the one in all the photos with the rows of flags.

After Pregny, there's the Salle des Assemblées (Assembly Hall). I went through on the first day as I was lost and trying to cut across the grounds to get to the UNECE building. Nice people gave me bad directions. And I was shocked at how much French was required to ask for these directions and how good my French must be since they answered me in slurred, friendly French instead of clear, "you're obviously a foreigner" French. Anyway. I've been back to this complex a few times since as it houses main conference rooms, art displays, the lunch cafeteria in the basement, and the grand Delegates' Restaurant on the roof.

After the Assembly Hall, there's the Aile de Commission Assemblées-Bibliothèque (Assembly-Library Wing), which I had the pleasure of visiting the other day. Amazing library with high ceilings, the old book smell, and round, sturdy, yet cushy, leather chairs low to the ground. And, the books. Well, don't let me tell you that I wish my internship was cataloging.

After the Library is the "New Building," which I have yet to see. I can see it from my supervisor's office. I saw it from the rooftop restaurant. I have yet to enter, although we are highly encouraged to meander on breaks and explore when we have free time. I will, I will.

Then there's the Secretariat ("The department administered by a governmental secretary, especially for an international organization"), in which is housed a variety of people doing a multitude of things. I walked through it once to find a bathroom. I didn't really notice the names or titles. There are several "Portes" on these buildings and they're useful for finding the entrance to certain buildings. This one has Porte 1, which also leads to the basement shopping - watches, perfume, food, liquors, clothing, and, yes, chocolate all on discount. It's rather like back in the military days with the commissary. Not the greatest selection, but still slightly cheaper. Not the biggest room, but big enough not to die from suffocation or claustrophobia... although small enough to want to jab a few people in the back... yes, I'll have an entire entry dedicated to patience as the theme of not only my entire f'ing life, but also of this entire city of Geneva.

Finally, there's the Aile de Commission Assemblées-Conseil (Assembly-Council Wing). And behind Porte 6 is a nice world of convenience and where I work. Ground floor has a travel agent, tourist office, bookstore/kiosk, post office, photo booth for passport photos (I made some damn nice ones in black and white, too), and a bank.

So, I walked in with the necessary materials, sat down and opened a UBS bank account. Since they needed a safe, official address for delivery of documents I gave them the UN one and picked up all the info today. And, man, is there a lot! The credit card / debit card, the pin for that, the how-to do e-banking book, the access card to do e-banking, the pin for that, the access card e-banking machine reader, the instructions for that.

Yes, I said reader. If you've been in Europe lately, you'll notice they have these super cool wireless credit card readers that they bring to your table at the end of a meal. Now, you never have to hand over your card to the waiter/server/bartender/host. You flash it, or show it, or peek it out of the bill-bearing-book. They come over to your table, take your card, and either swipe it like this one:









or insert it like this one:





They hand you the latter and you enter your pin (as the server and your table guest kindly turn their heads), you view the "Code Bon" (I have yet to see it in English), the receipt prints, a-ok!

So, when I got my UBS reader in the mail, I started wondering how much money I could get off of unsuspecting foreigners by charging them randomly in the street or at cafes. Would it work? Could I pose as an undercover bank operations manager, checking people on the street to verify that their chips work?

So, here's the set-up:





Super security, folks. So, I only get my e-banking access if I can figure out how to insert the access card (the grey card in the photo with the gold chip; not the credit/debit card) into the reader and then log on to the website and simultaneously answer both questions from the reader and website and enter in answers from them both into the other. Now, I feel bad. I should be wiring hundreds of millions of dollars over instead of the meager amount I moved over for the summer.

Oh, and I don't get to keep the account after the internship. How could would I be? "Oh, this? It's just the monthly statement from my Swiss bank account." So Bond! But, if the UN keeps me on as a consultant until I get my first real UN job... then, I could. Yes, I'm trying to plot my whole internship around how I get to keep the Swiss bank account. If you have suggestions, send 'em over.

The roar from afar that is Euro Cup

It is 85F in Geneva. The sun has turned me a golden brown and I'm no longer burning red under it. Although at the top floor of the old building I feel hot and the breeze is not enough. It is summer...!!

Well, finished the last weeks of May in a blur and a half-assed happiness. Given more time, I would have done better in everything. Now, I just hope I passed. Grades are available this week, but they're not mailing them out. I just so happen to have to go back for a business meeting (about the Global Public Policy Network Student Conference this fall) this coming Fri-Mon so hopefully I can end the awful suspense and receive full confirmation that I did, indeed, suck this past semester. I realize now why my prof from first semester said my paper could be publishable. I spent so much more effort inside that theme and on paper. Second semester there just wasn't adequate time to delve into each subject.

Sigh.

The last three weeks were littered with days like this: Econ 1b class, 1st year meeting (review), Amartya Sen, Matt in town, dinner with Cuba group. Or, Bridget visit, Global paper due, Econ exam review, GPPN meeting with Anand, Conflict Management paper review meeting, dinner with Bridget. Now, my ex-co-workers will confirm that I thrived in our schizophrenic days where one minute it was a volunteer training, a lobby visit, hiring interns, tracking legislation, health care meetings. But this year has felt more schizo and more multi-tasked than I felt before. And many of my friends left without announcement, possibly never to be seen again - off to summer internships and then another school in our dual-degree program next fall. My heart felt torn and my mind wiped out.

So, work happened and my mind moved and friends came. Matt and I had baguette lunch with his traveling friend, Bart, down by the Seine where it was less windy and a bit more sunny. Bridget came and, after 15 years, it only took us 20 minutes to settle back intohttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif each other as friends. We let ourselves sleep late and do our own thing during the day. She visited Rimbaud and I spent quick hours at school. We met for dinner and laughed over the über American tourists. And when I was free all day on Saturday, we went through and around and into Paris. The back way to the Sacre Coeur (thank you, Josh and Sarah!), such a perfect day, into the Museum of Montmartre to see the history of absinthe but to leave wondering where to find it.

[The giant roars as Spain kills 3 goals in 5 minutes... sorry make that Spain 4 and Italy 2 .. in the last 7 minutes - good lord!]

Up the back way to the Sacre, around its outside, through a lovely garden, down a side street into the rain and scamper under the cover of an awning of a little bistro. The nicest bartender ever. I'll go back for a salad and beer sometime soon. The corner of Rue Custine, Rue Labat, and Rue Ramey.

We left after a few hours and beers (me, drinking beer in the middle of the day, in the middle of finals prep - I felt giddy and heady and ooo what fun!) and meandered through the street to all of a sudden end up in African market land. Literally, turned a corner and there were glorious bodies of shimmering fabric, hands full of sacks of groceries, children tottling before or after, the smell of chicken roasting, saffron. Bridget is more comfortable than I am, after confronting her shyness of African women (I told her I thought that it was perhaps that they carry such mystery and magic, power and essence within layers of beautiful robes; she told me that they do have the power - they do the accounting, they portion out the shares, they labor in the field but they have the purse strings). She leads me into the fabric stores to show me the multitude of designs and colors from floor to ceiling stacked high. And then, we go on a walk through the Rue de la Goutte d'Or and then to find a bathroom.

Bridget tells it better than I have:

########

"vote football (a story)"

walking through a beautiful arab and african quarter of paris, we were
in search of a bathroom - fast. past bakeries and mosques we could not
be deterred because that's how bad lauren had to go. little old men
sitting on stools in front of big city old doors. selling something or
maybe just passing the time like in the old country. kids holding
dad's hand as they strolled the narrow walkways. elegant fabrics
sneakily pouring out of the tops of storefront doorways. we walked on
in a general direction toward something on the horizon. a field of
train tracks below gave way to a space in the skeye that told us which
direction to follow to gare de l'est.

the skeyes was dimming and it wasn't looking good for umbrellaless
urban-explorers. finally we reached a choice in the path where the
decision was immediately obvious. continue down the narrow street or
take a set of steps down to a mini-courtyard that seemed to be
bouncing around a soccer ball. we took the steps and when we arrived
at the bottom, a group of young boys ignored us very well. we were in
the way of their soccer game but they weren't going to make it
obvious. they were copying some of the best moves that they saw from
their favorite footballers on t.v. and seemed to be in a hypnotic
state about it. two white ladies in search of a bathroom could not
compare to the obstacle that their defense offered them.

until... until, i without thinking ran up to them deciding i wanted to
play too. i guess i was feeling 10 years old and didn't think of
obstacles either. but when i approached the kid with the ball, his
eyes got big, he retreated from the ball and shrank in physical size
to an image i could barely see. i realized right away what happened.
being young black immigrant african boys in a mostly white parisian
culture didn't leave a lot of room for safety. they were protecting
themselves EVEN if they had to leave their probably most prized
possession behind: their soccer ball. they were ready to run from ME!
a weird white lady and leave their game - their dream...

it felt like crap. i felt like crap. such a huge worldly pain, regret,
and guilt crept over me and i too cowered away in the opposite
direction.
trying to reconcile embarrassment, racism, pain, oppression, and all
of the embedded junk that goes with it, i got lost in my head feeling
really weird and uncomfortable. lauren still had to go to the
bathroom. but she watched the whole thing happen. and by the time i
got within whispering distance to her, all i could say was: 'those
kind of experiences are important to have to.' she replied with the
obvious, that they thought i was going to beat them up or take their
ball or something like that - i don't remember exactly. but then she
said the most memorable, 'that's why you have to try again.' i think i
said 'WHAT?' still recovering and imagined being in recovery mode for
a few days or weeks... she said 'you have to try again' and
simultaneously realized that the public library just across the street
probably had a bathroom. she began to disappear in that direction as i
mulled over her comment.

hmmm. what the heck. so i went back to the game and gently, in my
nicest french, quietly asked them if i could play. they stared and me
and were of course weirded out. who is this lady? and what does she
want? i couldn't have answered the question either, so i am glad that
it was their eyes and not their mouths that asked me. they were
hesitant, but finally the leader put me in the least desirable
position on the court yard bumpy rocky 'field' that was starting to
get quite slippery from the french drizzle. i became their goalie.
which freed them to show off their best footwork even on pavement that
may as well have been ice.

with my back to the steps, i was guarding a space between a railing
and a wall. it was too big for the number of amazingly dexterous kids
running at me in the rain, but i didn't complain. i just strapped my
backpack on tight. pushed up my sleeves, and awaited the plummeting of
goals over my head, through my legs, under my arms, and too far for my
slippery reach in both directions.

eventually they started calling me madame and told me to take my
backpack off so i could be more comfortable. a few smiles started to
creep up on their pro-footballer faces and a few times their was as
much laughter falling as their was rain. we were lucky to be semi
under cover and only the ground was really getting wet - which i
repeat was NOT easy to maneuver. it felt like a game of broom ball on
the frozen over baseball field of a mid-western town. with just a
soccer ball and a bunch of friends these kids knew how to have fun
despite their surroundings. they found a field half the size of a
tennis court with buildings on two sides, steps on one, and a street
on the other. it was clear they had been playing there for awhile.
because they knew with exactly how much force they had to kick the
ball in order to pass it to a distant teammate but not kick it as far
as the street. i was the only one who ever kicked it into the street.
big faux pas. big eyes.

i have to say, i did make a few saves and got quite sweaty in the
short time that i played, but for the most part it was evident that
these boys were the football heroes, and i was not.

lauren came back at some point, but i didn't notice her for quite some
time - being so immersed in my game. when i did look up she was
smirk-smiling from behind her camera. on a high note i left the game
and joined her, watching from the sidelines. she said after she went
to the bathroom, she had a chance to vote in the library. the question
was: should immigrants be allowed to vote in local elections? an
interesting juxtaposition of experiences... it sure would be nice if
the parents of these kids could have a voice in the decision making of
their community. i can just see these boys as professional footballer
casting their ballots ten years from now.


#########


The photos are in progress. I'm right now working on the ones from my friends the Family Sarnowski visit back in the end of April. Yes, that far behind. But... now I have time, my friends!!

**this was finished on 23 June - I'm not ready to talk about the internship yet, but today was a good day at the United Nations.**

What have I done and who do I thank

1) Thank the Chinese.
Global Imbalance:
My dad wrote, "Is this at all good news???" First, it's strange, delightful, and very cool that my dad is asking me questions. He's always known more than me - and he will always know more about all things scientific or mathematical, and probably financial - so for him to ask me about something makes me very proud. (Not that he's never asked, mind you. I'm also very lucky to have parents who teach me and simultaneously acknowledge that they've learned from me.) Anyway. After a month of reading and many, many, many group meetings I think I have some substantial input on this question. Granted, if I wanted to have real input I'd have to go for a PhD in econ.

Here's what I wrote back:
"Good and bad. ... you're 1 day late on this link though - I gave my presentation y'day. ;) We've got a shared docs folder for each of our class presentations so I've saved this article there. Thanks for sharing!

It's a very long explanation which I'm going to attempt to write about on the blog. Essentially the USD needs to depreciate because of the drastic global imbalance between US and several other surplus countries (esp China - hence our push that they appreciate the Yuan and have better, more flexible money market), but this depreciation will hurt us adn the world because of a catch 22: USD is world currency and the most invested market. So, our $ goes down, our exports go up (we make money for our "store" called USA), our consumption goes down (we can't buy as much with our weak dollar), China's imports to us go down, we shrink our deficit, they shrink their surplus. But this also means that stocks, Treasury bills (that the chinese purchase with money from selling their exports to us) lose value which means their investment starts to mean less, which means people will move their money to another market - Euro? This means, we lose jobs in the US, lose production, lose the reign of world currency. And that's only a small portion of it. A lot of our deficit is owed to oil imports because it's an inelastic good - the price might go up but our consumption remains the same. Also, China's culture of saving (leftover from the Asian crisis & history of instability) means they won't consume our products as much = they aren't spending down their huge surplus. Also, our culture of spending/consuming since the Great Depression. We were starting to save as a country between 40s-80's but then hit the tech boom/production boom/investment boom and started spending more than saving, relying on credit more (I factor in here!). Who's carrying our credit addiction? The Chinese, the Asians, the oil barrons. And the great fear is that at some point our market is going to tank from partying hard for so long. When that happens it could be disastrous to the world who has invested in our markets - domino effect. So, we need to devalue the dollar a bit, we need to save more (yes yes what you've been saying ALL my life; Addendum: "You Can't Take It With You"), the gov't needs to tax us more, it needs to stop spending so much (twin deficits = foreign trade & budget!), we need to tighten our belts. And those countries who've been gluttonous in saving need to go on a shopping spree a bit.

So... i can write that now after about a month of reading and group meetings. i'm going to tally up my hours spent on this subject because it's insane how much i read just to understand global imbalance, current account balances in general and then to understand the US's position on how to address it. Man! the group meetings were interesting, too. 2 Indians, 1 Iranian, 1 USA, 1 China. Very interesting interactions, dynamics and learning."

[No additional editing has been done to the above. I'm sure it needs some but I've moved on from global imbalances. If you have questions, please feel free to direct them to me.]

1a) My memo to Shell in 1995 concerning their options in addressing a possible crisis in Nigeria.

1b) In our Scenario Planning class, we look at the future of Cuba. You can view our slide presentation here. (Guess who did the layout? Photos are from a million people/places all over the 'net. Hope I don't get sued. If you have the Mambo Kings album, the sound might work for you, as well. Or, just imagine "Guantanamera" for the first 4 slides. "Yo soy un hombre sincero / De donde crecen las palmas / Yo soy un hombre sincero / De donde crecen las palmas / Y antes de morirme quiero / Echar mis versos del alma / Chorus: Guantanamera / Guajira Guantanamera)

1c) An interesting article on the Sciences Po MPA in Le Monde (French) here. Quoted are two of my classmates, Sean who is West Point grad and retired early after being in Iraq for a while, and Preeti who is a lawyer from India.

2) My trip to Geneva was awesome. Ditched out of class a bit early to make it to Gare de Lyon. Of course, the metro all of a sudden had problems at Concorde, which sent a bit of panic through me. But thanks to my years of second-hand military training, I had given myself enough time in case of emergency. Luckily, the problem was fixed and we carried on to the station. At GDL I got my e-ticket from the machine and eying the long line at the Info booth, asked a woman if she knew where I'd get the TGV schedule to Geneva. Another testimony to the incorrect assumption that French are rude or unhelpful, she pointed out the big board in front of my face (without ridicule) and said that 20 minutes before departure, the gate would be available but that they either left from this large platform or another one across the way. Twenty minutes is not a lot of time between realization and finding one's seat, ahem. Thankfully, my train left from the main platform.

Sat next to a guy reading "Sur la Route." Yes, exactly, "On the Road" by Kerouac. Very good sign for me. I started to do some reading in preparation for the up-coming group presentation on Global Imbalances (see above, or see this PPT here; appendix is here). But then, the guy sitting next to me asked if I worked in Geneva and we began a really nice conversation. He works in GIS mapping and spoke s much English as I do of French. I learned that what I thought was mustard between London and Paris on the Eurostar is actually colza (used as an oil or biodiesel).

The older woman sitting across the aisle from us also chatted me up after my seat companion debarked. She's the wife of a retired career UN guy, with an apartment a few blocks away from me in Montmartre. She gave me her number in case I ever needed anything in Geneva. Totally nice.

Got to town. Bought a croissant in the train station just to absorb everything. I had time and it was still daylight and was drizzling a bit. Located the automatic bus fare machines and found #5 easily to head off to Home Saint Pierre, the Lutheran hostel for girls and women. (Normally I don't gravitate to sex-separation for my activities or accommodations, but this was the cheapest and most available at 28chf, which is roughly $1=1chf.) I thought Paris was pretty international - although I tend to hear more French, English, Russian, German, and then other Nordic languages and then other EU languages - but Geneva, of course, in its internationalism, I hear more of everything and then more of languages I've never heard before. I felt at home in this soupy mix.

I got off the bus at Place Neuve where men were playing giant chess in the drizzle. This is the old town of Geneva, all the way up the hill. Cobblestones like Paris. Old walls, old façades. I got a bit lost and asked a Latino-looking guy if he knew where the church St Pierre would be. He didn't, but answered me very nicely in French. I called the hostel and the very German sounding woman told me how to get there. I took a left and down stairs instead of a straight and right. Anyway. Found the place, checked in (her warmth left a little to be desired but I'm not young, nor am I afraid of new places), and went over to the dormitory for my bed. It feels a bit more lonely to have just a bed, like it's barracks or something. But I chatted up the young women there and discovered that one of them was from Paris, Sciences Po doing research for her thesis.

Went off to look for dinner possibilities and ran into the Latino (Peruvian) guy from before. He and I exchanged emails and he pointed me to a nearby Italian restaurant, at which I was served yummy pizza and Swiss wine (not as yummy) by a Portuguese server who spoke Spanish, English, French, and Portugal Portuguese (she slightly scoffed clarification when I asked if it was Brazil or Portugal). Got to bed rather early and got up rather early. After all, I was going to the HOLY %&$# United Nations!!!!

Check-out was at 10am so I packed everything and took the 7chf breakfast at the hostel, left the luggage, hiked down the hill, found the same #5 bus, passed the train station, passed UN Concil on Human Rights (wow), stopped at the official Palais des Nations entrance (where the photos of all the flags lined up are taken), hiked quickly up the hill to the other entrance. Through x-ray check and to security to check-in. Some kind of delay with checking and emails and if they knew before and had he sent the notice. Meanwhile, this nice woman who kind of helped me know I was in the right line at the right entrance was rolling her eyes and being a bit too overly critical and impatient of the process for my liking. But my future boss came down to meet me, I got the ugly photo pass (worse than a driver's license), and he walked me over to the UNECE and our floor.

He gave me the grand tour and by that I mean I got to meet the woman with whom I'd be working quite a bit, as well as the chief of the department. I'm walking a fine line in my blog between what I can/should share and what I know would be inappropriate. So, nah nah boo boo you don't get all the insider scoop on the UN. Suffice it to say the building still reflects the time period when it was built and offices are rather bare, bland, and unlively. Of course, consider also the amount of official business that is conducted in each and I guess one can't have a big dart board next to one's desk.

I met with the intern coordinator, who happens to be from Minnesota and graduate of University of Wisconsin. And then met all the interns who were around at the time. Very nice folks all of them. Very comfortable and very funny. Me, dressed in my nice suit pants, kitten heels, blue blouse, and pearls all thinking, oo the UN better dress nicely. The interns, all dressed in jeans and tee-shirt or definitely summer wear. They told me it usually took an intern an average of a week to ditch the business wear for the casuals. I think I'd like to keep a step up on the jeans wear though - just because of my age, my interests in future jobs, and to be kind of in the 'real world' despite my laziness and love of everything comfortable and easy.

The interns are, of course, from all over the world but most seem to be hailing from Europe and then more concentrated in the Eastern block. The unique thing about the UNECE is its focus on Russia and the Eastern countries to I guess that's why the predominance of interns from those regions - translation is a big activity for them. Interns from all departments are located in this area on the Stats Division floor since I guess they have the most empty offices. I sat with and talked to a young woman from Germany who works in the Environmental Policy division. Just so happened she mentioned that she had a great roommate in the old part of town and that she'd be ending her internship in May and leaving and maybe I'd be interested in talking to her roommate about the flat. She warned me that the place wasn't new and had a 5th floor walk up (ha! mine in Paris is 6) and the roommate is creative and so is the place. It sounded perfect to me as she described it. Just so happened the roommate was free at 3pm to meet me.

Next, I sat with the social coordinator intern, from Latvia. She'd been at the UNECE for a while and was coordinating outings, happy hours, etc for all the interns to bond.

I went back to my future boss as it was noon, and we headed to the cafeteria of the world.


..... it's bedtime for me now.. I'll finish this tomorrow. School's kind of winding down. May means 3 papers, a French exam, an Econ exam and then also visits from friends all over the world. The weather has been amazing here lately, with highs in the upper 70s and a lovely breeze. The metro is starting to feel heavy in air so I'm preferring the bus. Pants are folded for shorts and skirts. Skin can breathe again. Parisians seem happier. I'm super excited for this month but also a bit wary of how to balance it all. C'est la vie.

Oh, and if you're interested in hopping on the export/import train, my birthday's the 13th. There are two links upper right side that point to fun things on Amazon that I like. I'd be happy to ship you anything you request from Europe.