The ILR credit internship office lied to me — they told me that most Swiss residents could speak English and I would not have any trouble getting around. From the moment I landed in Geneva, Switzerland, I was surrounded by signs in German, Italian and French. While I do have a little background in French (okay more like seven years), I am nowhere near being fluent and one of my high school French teachers once remarked that I had the worst accent she had ever heard.

Gorges to gondolas: Foreign ­correspondent Elizabeth Manapsal (top center) is living it up in the E.U.

But upon arriving in Geneva, I had one too many bags and not enough hands and had to beg a Swiss person in my broken French to lend me francs since I stupidly forgot to exchange my money before I left home.

I was genuinely disoriented the first few days I was here. I had yet to encounter a single person that spoke English and going to the grocery store was a nightmare. I bought meat based on what color it was since I could barely remember the word for turkey (une dinde) and chicken (un poulet). I was just hoping I wouldn’t walk away from the store with pigs’ heads for dinner.

Despite this and getting lost several times around Geneva, I am slowly getting more comfortable. My French language skills are already improving, as there is a reduction in the dirty looks people give me when I try to speak French. While a lot of Swiss residents may not be fully fluent in English, they know a little bit, just as I know a little French. So when talking to strangers on the street and trying to get directions, we often try to meet in the middle, each of speaking a little of each language.

Being the middle is essentially what Switzerland is about — it is smack dab in the center of Europe and it is known for taking neutral stances on certain issues. Switzerland is not even a part of the European Union.

But to actually experience Europe, I have had to travel outside of Geneva and into neighboring areas that have more of a distinct culture. Geneva is almost like any big city in the U.S., except that everyone speaks French — it’s a melting pot of people from all different backgrounds, religions and experiences. It’s different in that people are much more reserved and quieter than other international cities. I am usually in bed by 11:30 here as opposed to 2 a.m. in the States. I love being in the middle of Europe, but after breaking down the language barrier, I wish there was something com­pletely new to fully immerse myself in.

One immediate difference I’ve noticed between the two cultures is people are actually polite to one another on the streets (except when they find out that you are American).

In elevators, people always say “Bonjour” when you are entering and “Bonne journée” when you are leaving. It’s a starling contrast to Cornell, where most people barely acknowledge each other walking down Ho Plaza. I can understand why some people perceive Americans as oblivious at times.

But electing Obama has significantly helped America’s image. The Swiss and Europe in general cannot seem to stop commenting about Obama. Thanks to him, people are actually willing to have conversations with Americans now. Many people flat out have told my friends and I they would not be speaking to us if Bush or someone of similar character was still in power.

However, outside my 10th story office at the International Labour Organisation, someone did still spray paint a message on a wall saying “YANKEES GO HOME.”Some Europeans perceive Americans as boorish and arrogant.

I was on a train to Zurich from Geneva when my friends and I started up a conversation with some boys around our age who were in the Swiss Guard. He asked us where we were from. We said the U.S.

He responded, “Oh, I never want to go America. Everyone there thinks they are the center of the universe and they just have no concept of the world outside the U.S.”

Thankfully, I was able to convince him otherwise by the end of our train ride. He said, “I can tell a lot from people’s tone, and you guys seem really nice.”

That message took the sting away a little bit when I was called a superficial American by a 35-year-old man wearing a purple leather jacket outside of a club, because “I didn’t talk like the nice girl from North Dakota.” I wasn’t looking for this man’s friendship anyways.

Most of the Swiss residents I’ve encountered have been very friendly, with the exception of a few people who are not too fond of Americans. But they shouldn’t be so quick to judge. After all, Geneva has more in common with the U.S. than it realizes.