Most of French-speaking Switzerland joined the confederation late. Fribourg was in by 1481, but Vaud only arrived in 1803, Geneva, Valais and Neuchâtel in 1815 (Neuchâtel while still, on paper, a principality of the King of Prussia), and Jura not until 1979, which makes it the newest canton of all. Under the French lies Franco-Provençal, the old patois of the Alps, and it left words behind: a panosse for the floor cloth, a pive for a pine cone, la chotte for shelter from the rain. German Switzerland leans in from across the Röstigraben, so you poutze the kitchen (putzen, to clean) and tell a witz. Then there are the numbers. Septante and nonante everywhere, huitante in Vaud, Valais and Fribourg, quatre-vingts in Geneva, Neuchâtel and Jura. Add the famously unhurried delivery, and a Romand can place a speaker to the canton before the first sentence ends.
A homemade sort of goodbye from Suisse romande, somewhere between 'à bientôt' and 'see you round'. It is built from 'revoir' (to see again) with the noun ending '-ance' bolted on, and has never made it into a standard dictionary.
Switzerland runs on four languages, and for a French-speaking teenager or young adult a spell living and working among German speakers, usually in Zurich or Bern, is close to a rite of passage. Parents still say it about their children much as British parents once talked about a year abroad.
Used in Belgium, Switzerland and just over the French border to the north, this is what a mediator does: step between two sides who won't speak to each other and quietly patch things up. It carries a slightly makeshift, improvised feel, more a bit of string and tape than a formal settlement, which fits a word, bidon, that elsewhere in French slang means fake or cobbled together.
In Swiss French, 'gruler' is an old dialect verb for shaking or shivering. Having 'la grulette' means you're trembling all over, whether it's the cold or nerves behind it.
In Québec and Switzerland this is simply how you wish someone happy birthday, quite different from standard French usage, where fête marks a person's saint's day rather than their birthday.
Order a café au lait almost anywhere and you get a shot of coffee topped up with milk. Cross into Suisse romande and ask for a renversé and the ratio gets properly turned on its head, mostly hot milk with just a splash of coffee poured on top, served in a clear glass with no froth in the way, precisely so you can dunk a croissant into it without getting a moustache.
no matter what happens, regardless of the situation
Heard along the Swiss and Franche-Comté side of the Jura, this is the local way of shrugging off obstacles: whatever gets in the way, the thing still has to happen. Someone might use it about a broken-down car, a stubborn client or a difficult in-law.
A Swiss French brush-off, the local cousin of envoyer au diable or envoyer promener. Tell someone to get lost and, in the mountains at least, you send them off among the fir cones rather than to the devil.
Said of a child, or an adult who ought to know better, refusing to speak and jutting out the bottom lip after being told no. Common currency in French-speaking Switzerland and across the border in Lorraine. It looks like it should be about friendship, since pote is mate in ordinary French slang, but a completely different and older word sits underneath.