The first time I invited some Swiss colleagues round for dinner, it took me a while to realise what was happening. We’d been chatting for twenty minutes after the meal, the coffee had been served, the conversation was flowing, and suddenly one of them glanced at his watch and said he had things to do. Five minutes later, they’d all gone. I was left with the dishes still to be cleared away and the feeling that I’d done something wrong.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. In Switzerland, when the meal is over, the gathering is over. The after-dinner chat as we understand it – that natural extension where people carry on talking, discussing things, sharing dessert at a leisurely pace and where coffee lasts an hour – is not part of Swiss cultural norms. Here, the meal is just the meal, and what comes afterwards is something else. They are two distinct moments. Over the years, you learn not to expect it. But it never quite feels entirely normal to you.
This has practical consequences in many areas. At work, business lunches end up being as efficient as a management committee meeting. At social gatherings, it takes much more effort to reach that informal, relaxed atmosphere which, in Spain, comes naturally with a glass of wine. And in personal relationships, you have to spend your time differently, because a long dinner lasting until two in the morning isn’t something you can take for granted. What you do gain, in return, is that when someone arranges to meet you for lunch, they know exactly how much time they have and arrive on the dot. It’s all very well in theory until you start missing those three hours spent at the table on a Sunday.