The Swiss are a rather silent people. On the train I've learned to turn my mobile to vibrate, and in the street my conversations - either in English or in French - are kept to a reasonable hum. There is the occasional motorbike through downtown, but the urban noise of Geneva consists mainly of a politely low din of armored Mercedes and the muted brakes of public tramways.
Walk a little deeper into the city, however, and one discovers the immigrant district of P??±µis. Here one finds a fascinating m?©¬?nge of African eateries and halal butcheries. On a Friday night, if you walk far enough, you just might happen upon that aural experience most rare in spanking-clean Switzerland: thumping music coming from giant subwoofers in tricked-out cars.
The first time I heard this phenomenon in Geneva, I was swiftly transported back to the days of my childhood, in which every high school boy worth his salt installed some big black woofers in the back of his ride and let the gangsta rap fly. Of course, at my school, the cars were more Volvos of Stockholm than the Peugeots of P??±µis, but that disturbing-the-peace cacophony of music made me smile nonetheless.
Perhaps the Swiss do know how to make a little noise? They are, after all, famous for putting bells around the necks of every animal in sight. Perhaps bumping car audio systems are the 21st century incarnation of a covert predisposition towards noisemaking.
But after a closer listen to the music emanating from the rolled-down windows along the P??±µis, I realized that my happy theory about Swiss loudness was as holey as Swiss Emmenthaler cheese. The people sitting in these cars are admittedly living in Switzerland - but they are not Swiss. Their language is not one of Switzerland's four official national languages; these guys speak Arabic. Their music has the undulating and vibrant coursings of Arab popular music, and the cards hanging from their rearview mirrors display Arabic expressions.
The propensity to make noise in the street is not something these young guys have learned in Switzerland. It is something they bring from home, from cultures outside of Switzerland and outside of Europe. On the train, the passengers making the most noise - and getting the most angry sighs and rolled eyes from fellow riders - usually speak Russian, Hindi, or English. And in the street, while the Swiss greet each other with three delicate kisses on the cheek, the Africans opt for hearty slaps on the back and joyous cries of salutations.
So while the traditional Swiss treasure their quiet alpine chalets and measured caf?© ?onversations, the world around this lovely country is getting louder and louder. The global din is fast becoming a roar as cell phone rings, Kanye West and debates over the war in Iraq pump up the volume of our daily lives. The definition of "globalization" is partially realized through the practice of noisemaking, from the music we consume 24/7 through our iPods to the competing barrage of cable TV news.
On the other hand, the "underdeveloped" world can be characterized by the silence of evenings without television and labor performed by hand instead of by machines.
This new global reality of decibels is perfectly demonstrated by the cultural volume of Geneva's large immigrant population. One way to delineate between the foreign and native populations is to gauge how loudly they talk in casual conversations. While the natives whisper to each other in the grocery store, the immigrants let their children cry noisily in H&M. True acculturation can be demonstrated when the immigrant stops shouting into her cell phone on the late-night bus and instead tells her friend she'll have to call her back.
This past September, Swiss voters passed a referendum allowing free movement of persons across their borders, in compliance with European Union measures. Opening borders means movement of people, of cultures, and of globalization - a globalization that brings the noise of the whole wide world captivated by the cacophony of modern technologies and communications.
While the U. N. and the multitude of national dress one sees in the streets are obvious signs of the global state of affairs of Geneva today, one can also walk down the streets of P??±µis to be reminded of the reality of the concurrence of international cultures. Swiss silence aside, Geneva is a pretty noisy place - noisy with the sound of globalization.
Julie Schindall is a junior majoring in music. She is currently studying abroad in Switzerland, and can be reached at Julie.Schindall@tufts.edu.
