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Published: November 29th 2007
deck the halls...and courtyards
plodding around during the day, i got to see the goings-ons...such as the airlifting of xmas trees down into courtyards scattered around the city.In Baden, we had taken the town's one taxi (ok, perhaps overstated. but we literally called a taxi twice, and got the same guy.)...hiked for four hours worth of kilometers, taken a local bus, then took a local and regional train...only to arrive in Zurich, needing a tram to transport us to our Platenhof accommodation. The crisp night ride through the city was Spitze (tops!)...we then slept, a lot.
The morning light brought into focus the almost hodgepodge architecture here. It feels German, and yet, Italian...or French, and yet, something altogether new. Almost every building has a different feel to it: slightly different structure, angle, window, banister, staircase, lighting, railing, relief, rooftop, chimney, etc.
I’m beyond happy to be in Germanland, the Deutsch music to my ear (even if delivered with a funny accent here). The baked goods are nothing superspecial, some weird cross between German, French and Italian, with nothing being exceptionally good - except those treats with “waldbeeren”, or forest berries, involved. The rest of the food is to be desired, or left unordered, as the prices are astronomical.
The best meal I had was an Indian thali in a place of great, grand historical significance:
cityscape
one of my favorite buildings in Zurich the oldest vegetarian restaurant in Europe!
While I feel so geographically and tenderly close to Germany, there is enough to trigger post-traumatic stress disorder of the Italian sort. As most of you know, my time there was difficult: cold, confusing, lonely and harried. The accelerating and decelerating putzing of the scooters around Zurich’s main avenues flashback cold nights of walking to and from bus stations, hungry, exhausted and baffled by the Italian culture.
At the same time, the storybook images of Zurich, watching small babies be bundled up and prammed around the city in subzero temperatures, locals yodeling their bakery orders, and students gathered in circles sipping to-go espressos…well, there is something I miss about Italy’s rawness, its fire.
Where's the bite?
Posters are plastered here or there, and there’s certainly a city vibe, but all so premeditated.
No signs to rally political spirit, no underground music or art scene evident, not a single Che Guevara t-shirt. It took me two days to find proper graffiti, and one more day to find the bohemian section of town with scandalous, sacrilegious modern “art.” Other than that, life here is insularly pleasant.
I guess this is
skate or bust
our precious dolderbahn, a fenicular that took us up to the ice skating rink - which was a serious 3-rink operation, and indoor curling to boot! linked to Switzerland’s neutral past, which even I have taken advantage of (recall my run for the border while living illegally in Italy). I need to learn more about its history, and more importantly, the people’s history: what have they fought for - how did they swing neutrality?
What saves Switzerland from my stronger criticism on its complacency is its europeaness: there’s more simplicity, more class, and less consumerism. Just its physical scale demands modest and precise action: narrow roads=small cars, cobble sidewalks=small steps, store-front shops=small items, steep mountains=small journeys.
And its future? As the international banking city, the irony rested in my reading “Banker to the Poor” while there…will there be Swiss micro-credit I wonder?
And the weather? As grey as these photos look.
Time to go see how France fairs, take 2…
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