But you pay for those things, and dearly. Rent is exorbitant, and I rarely spend less than $100 on groceries, and I go more than once a week. And although we've certainly taken full advantage of our Swiss Rail pass, it was an incredibly expensive investment at the outset. So yes, life is nice in Zürich, but only if you can afford it.
The one exception I've consistently noted is the very affordable (or, often, free) facilities and classes and playgrounds for children. Mom and Dad have to pay dearly for their entertainment, but it's very inexpensive to keep a child happy. Not to mention the Swiss public schools: I've been really grateful for all of the extra tutoring the kids have been getting, and the kids have wonderful extracurriculars: music, art, handicrafts, swimming, gym, not to mention those lovely field trips. I think it's wonderful, the way the Swiss so clearly prioritize their children.
Today, I got to see another section of the population that greatly benefits from the Swiss priorities: my Integrationskurs, this morning, visited an old-age home. And not just any home: this was a state-run home, located in the very poorest district of Zürich. For those who can afford it, living at this home costs 126 francs/day; for those who cannot, the home will accept what you can give, and, in return, they will give you what is considered the very minimum standard of living for Zürich.
The thing that I found most striking was that everyone is given a private apartment, until the very end of his life: the Swiss value privacy very highly, and they believe that a space to call one's own is a bare necessity. And those rooms were equipped with that wonderful Swiss sound-proofing: the halls were silent, odorless, and decorated gorgeously. Clearly, this standard of privacy and aesthetics isn't supported through Medicare and Medicaid, and how I wish it were.
Granted, your room will be quite small, about the size of a college double, but it will be furnished or not, as your needs require, and it will be dusted and swept for you weekly or more. You're not promised a kitchen in your room: only half of the rooms have private kitchenettes, which you'll receive only through luck of the draw. Everyone else has access to one of several public kitchens, where you'll have your own refrigerator and freezer, equipped with a lock for protection from marauding senior citizens.
Not that you need a kitchen: you're served three meals a day, with a breakfast board and a choice of entrees for lunch and dinner. You can take these in the dining room, or you can have your meal brought up to you, if you prefer.
Your board also includes full, free laundry: your clothes and sheets will be collected from your room and returned to you, in a few days, clean, pressed, and mended. They only ask that you let them sew a little name tag on anything you ask them to clean, every sock and handkerchief. Your first and last name, both, because it seems everyone in Switzerland is named either Müller or Meyer.
If you're able and interested, they have all the activities you might expect to find in a retirement home: card tournaments, exercise classes, outings, handicrafts, gardening, movie nights in a really lovely auditorium. They have a salon on site, for haircuts and nail trimming. In your bathroom, you'll only have a shower, because climbing in and out of a bathtub is too dangerous for some, but, interestingly, they also have general-use soaking tubs that you can reserve, fully equipped for senior access, with an electronic lift chair if you need it. All Swiss are entitled to their bubble bath.
There's a doctor on call, and you're given (again, included in your $126/day) whatever level of medical care you need, from serving you your pills with your meals to giving you the full attention of an attendant, who will care for you, in your room, until the end of your days.
And on the rooftop is one of the finest views in Zürich, with the Limmat right in front of you, and the steeples of the city poking out behind. Most of the residents are able to get out and about: of the 180 in residence, about twenty were essentially housebound, and for those I imagine that view is a great comfort.
The director talked at length about the challenges of language that she faced. The home is located in the so-called Workers quarter, with a high immigrant population. (To be eligible for this standard of care, you need not be a citizen of Zürich: most of us aren't. You do, however, have to have at least a C-level permit, and you have to have paid taxes in Zürich at some point in your life.) The director has focused on hiring an international staff who can, among them, speak ten different languages.
When you reach the age of 65, you're eligible to apply for residence in one of the state-run homes. The waiting list can be up to three years long, so many people do register as soon as possible and then defer until they feel a move is necessary. I saw several residents waiting for dinner who could easily have been just 70, and they looked really happy: two men were chuckling at our group as we walked down the hall, saying "Grüzi, grüzi, grüzi," to each of the dozen of us in our group as we passed by, one of them giving me a playful wink and a grin.
I could be wrong, but (apart from the level of privacy and aesthetics, which is sorely lacking in America) I'm under the impression that American minimum standards of care approach most of what I'm describing. Although I was interested to hear impressions of some my classmates from Israel and India and Spain, where providing such comforts to all senior residents is just unfathomable.
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| I was jolted back into the realm of the young and able when I returned home: Ella cartwheeled all the way to the community center (over a quarter mile) |
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| And we collected acorns and leaves and library books. |
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