Perfection

A maternity leave in the depths of winter in Canada consists largely of outings where preparation for said outing is often longer than the outing. Boots, jacket, car seat, snow suit, tiny boots that tiny feet keep pushing off, tiny hat, tiny mitts, car seat straps, diaper bag, purse, blah.

On a recent outing, I browsed the housewares aisles in need of absolutely nothing, and came upon a particular item. It was a red cast iron pot, something I'd been vaguely desiring for a while. However, the clincher for me was the label: "Swiss Made". Well then! Swiss made, how could I go wrong? I threw it into the cart without a second thought.



This made me think of our travels in 2008, where we'd come upon random things labeled "Swiss" in countries that were definitely not anywhere near Switzerland i.e. Nepal, India, Vietnam. The Swiss Family Hotel in Nepal, the Swiss Bakery, the Swiss Bus, the Swiss Restaurant. Why the obsession with the Swiss? Well, my behaviour above is the reason, I suspect; the world knows that Switzerland's reputation is built on quality, quality, quality. The Swiss Family Hotel must be the best hotel-With-Bathrooms-As-Showers in all the land. The Swiss Bakery must have the best Cornflakes-Masquerading-as-Apple-Crumble in all of India. The Swiss Bus is the best Bus-With-Goats in the city. The Swiss Restaurant... you get the point.



We fell for it every time. And my pot is awesome, thank you very much.