El mundo es un pañuelo

The world is a handkerchief as my Columbian flatmate in Geneva used to say, the AIESEC world is particularly small, and Bern has never been anything else than just a village.

I had my first working day as a volunteer. Given my skills and former work experience I logically ended up in the tourist information center in the railway station. I chose to work at the desk, informed Indian tourists - who were rather indifferent about the town's main event - where Rani Mukherjee and Abishek Bachchan had shot their latest bollywood movie, helped an old couple to get their postcards sent away and discussed with an old American tourist about his idea of stealing one of the little UEFA-flags that are mounted on all the buses and trams in town. He was very fond of his idea, but I am not sure if he did it in the end.
Once the game started the crowd moved towards the public viewing zones, the office emptied and the shift became a bit boring, allowing me to swap between my computer screen behind the desk, which kept me updated on the score and the TV room in the backoffice, where most of the staff was watching the game appreciating the free time.
In a nutshell, the workload was rather calm if not boring - until this short Spanish AIESECer with his three pieces of luggage on the back arrived through the door, exhausted and obviously lost. I recognized him immediately and said smilingly "Hola!"
After a silent second of surprise he stated the sentence that was already written in capital letters in his confused look: "SABI? WHAT THE FUCK?"
I explained him my newest job role.
"Bern is a very small place, you better get used to it." I advised him on the town that is meant to become his workplace for a year starting from now, while trying to call his fellow AIESECers who could liberate him of his luggage problem. As I could reach none of them, he finally decided to leave towards the fanzone with all his bags to meet them.

"You knew the guy? Who was it?" the colleague at the counter next to me asked. I explained him.
"Did you explain him the way to the city limits?" he laughed sarcastically.
"No!" I answered, there was no need. As usual I just did my job.

Shortly after this the Czechs showed Switzerland that the luck was on their side. I was also asked to spend the last bit of my shift at the info counter in the station's main hall. So I spent two hours sitting in a truck sized football, informing tired mid fifties when to catch the first train home, advising worried teenagers how they could make it home with the last train before the curfew,
watching drunk youngsters messing up the railway station and observing a loud parade of not very sober Dutch fans making their way towards the public viewing area.
I loved it!