Swiss Beer Sucks

Just look how underwhelmed Jon is
to be drinking Swiss beer

Two months after completing my year in Switzerland, settling back into life in the U.S., I find myself really interested in how memory works. Particularly, how while I'm having an experience, it's hard to know what's going to have lasting meaning. Or how what feels like a crappy time in the present moment is sometimes recalled later with fondness. A lot of things that were hard or annoying for me abroad now seem like wonderful experiences in retrospect. Drinking Swiss beer is not one of those experiences.

A musician Juna played with on a professional gig (really good player and really good drinker, this guy) said he bet that Swiss beer must taste so good to us. Au contraire. In Switzerland, if you want a beer, you just walk into a restaurant or bar, order "a beer," and you get a beer. No questions asked. Every town has its own brew, almost always a lager that, I will admit, is almost guaranteed to be better than Budweiser no matter where you go. But "better than Budweiser" isn't saying much, and that's really as good as it gets (except for the VERY occasional and hard to find craft beer which I personally only ever saw in bottles). Usually, thankfully, there is also the option of some kind of wheat beer on draft, and that or cider is what I would order. Oddly, I've had better Swiss craft beers on draft in America than I ever had in Switzerland. So it exists. Somewhere.

Hoegaarden--not Swiss

The most fun part of discovering Basel's lager, Feldschlösschen, was performing the tongue gymnastics required to pronounce it, not drinking it. It's brewed in a magnificent factory that looks like a castle. But it still sucks. I could not wait to get home...for the beer. I celebrated my September birthday with a trip to a local Connecticut liquor store for 10 different craft beers. I did not drink them all on my birthday. But just the fact that I can go almost anywhere in America--even small town Connecticut--and find delicious American craft beer both in bottles in the store and on draft in restaurants and bars speaks to this country's beer superiority over Switzerland. Sorry, Schweiz, but we've got you on this one.

The American art of friendliness

Americans are known the world over for being too nice (and for having serious problems in our government, but I won't go into that). For Europeans it can be disarming that smiles and small talk are exchanged freely here and that customer service, not to mention the system of tipping, is even a thing at all. A friend of mine from Hong Kong also said to me recently that Americans really know how to have fun and find happiness in life, something that Chinese people just do not know how to do. While I would argue that America is one of the most stressed out countries in the world, I think she is right that the happiness-oriented culture is there. And because we value those warm fuzzy feelings, it makes us awesome at being friendly to each other, whether we know each other or not!

It also makes us expect a certain level of warmth or at least politeness in our daily interactions (which is why the Swiss Embassy people seemed so gruff to me when I first applied for my visa). So when I first got home, fresh off the plane, I experienced a larger scale version of what happened to me after our 10-day trip hitting Berlin, Amsterdam and Paris. Before the trip, I would whine about lots of little things in Switzerland. After the trip, I wanted to kiss the ground in the Basel train station, I was so happy to be back. There's a lot of truth to the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder. But also, objectively, living abroad gave me some real perspective on my country, for better and worse.

I will admit that something lucky about the timing of my flight meant that I hardly had to wait in any lines coming through passport control in Dulles which I know is unusual and colored my immediate impression of being home and it's not fair to say this actually reflects on America. But seriously, the man who stamped my passport said "hi"! And smiled at me! And made a little joke about how old my passport picture was! Then, as I waited for baggage, the man next to me joked about the plight of trying to find a nondescript black suitcase in the sea of black bags on the conveyor belt. Meeting up with my parents, as we walked past a group of sign-holding chauffeurs, one of them overheard my Dad wondering aloud where to pay for parking and told us we could pay on the way out. When we walked outside, clearly lost because we were a flight up from the parking lot, someone saw us and jovially offered directions. It felt great not to be invisible and to be so taken care of by everyone.

Leaving the airport and finding a place to stop for a bite to eat, I've never been quite so happy to see an American strip mall with the usual terrible parking scheme in my life. Wawa was our destination, and it was glorious. On the way in, another customer was on her way out at the same moment, saw us, smiled, and stepped aside to let us through. Then, although the donut shelf was empty when we came in, soon a big man in orange uniform and body piercings came out wheeling a fresh supply. Now, Juna has been mildly scolded in Basel for asking for a Berliner in a bakery on a Saturday, but in the U.S. we like our constant donut access. The donut man even noticed that we were waiting, smiled and told us he would be done in just a minute (I've been almost bowled over with no apology by grocery store stockers in Basel).

The next day, my Mom took me to Cracker Barrel for lunch. Shamelessly unhealthy, typically American, downright delicious. But the food isn't what struck me most (though I was ecstatic for the cornbread). Not only was our server super friendly, but four different people came up and made sure we got the jelly for our biscuits. Four.

Just yesterday I went to browse some bikes in a bike store. Cycling to get around on some of our Europe travels made me really keen to do more of that here. Of course, it's much easier to do it there, with more bike lanes and wider acceptance of cycling as a means of travel, but nevertheless. The relevance to this post is that I walked in to Bike Beat in Williamsburg and was immediately greeted by someone offering help. While Juna and I were in Leipzig and interested in renting bikes, we walked in to a bike store where three guys were messing around with stuff behind the counter and we attempted to make eye contact, but nobody acknowledged us until we pointedly asked for help. Then, they were perfectly helpful, but in no way did they compare to this Bike Beat guy who stuck with me while I test rode bikes for at least half an hour.

None of this is to say the service is bad or the people are rude in Switzerland or Europe. It's not, and they're not. They say danke and bitte, they smile when kids do cute things and they wish you a pleasant day when you check out at the grocery store. But Swiss people are incredibly efficient at pretty much everything they do, and they might get a little impatient if you don't keep up.

There's probably something deeply wrong with our American psyche if we are so nice that we apologize when someone else bumps into us (OK, I know I'm speaking broadly, here). But whether it's legitimately a value of mine or if it's just subconsciously ingrained into my system, I love our super sweet manners and openness to spontaneous conversation. I love how we wear our happiness on our sleeve and weave congeniality into our everyday interactions. I know I will never be as happy as a Swiss cow high in the Alps, and you're killing me, America, with the processed, preservative-packed foods!, but I will savor this home, sweet, home feeling, at least for now.

Day 9: Back in Basel

Writing this post after having just returned from a 10-day excursion through some major European cities, I am exhausted! I realize now that the reason my parents' trip worked as well as it did was that we often returned home, either to spend a day there or just to sleep. This is why I loved day 9 in Basel, the last day before they flew home. My Dad is a powerhouse of energy who strangely does best on almost no sleep, so even though we were exhausted from our Matterhorn hike, he and I still woke up at 7:30 to walk around the neighborhood. We live barely outside Basel limits on the edge of a really fancy community, and if you just keep walking in a general uphill direction, you'll find yourself surrounded by enormous gated homes all looking out over a fantastic panorama of the city. Also, people apparently keep some sheep up there. We walked for about an hour and picked up some pastries for everyone at Migros on the way home. Being there that early, it was the best time for pastries! We got some kind of apricot/quark (ricotta-like cheese) lattice-top pastry, a twisty chocolate stick-shaped croissant thing, an apple turnover and a raspberry/vanilla danish.

Having my parents here gave me the push in the butt I needed to do some of the great things in Basel that I'd never done (though I've lived here almost a year). So after breakfast and some tea at the Elisabethenkirche (my favorite Basel cafe), we decided to float down the Rhein. I like the German spelling of Rhein much better than the English Rhine. Rhein is stronger, much more fitting for the type of river it is. Anyway, the water was cold as hell with a fierce current but once we got in it was really a good experience. 

The thing that's necessary to know about floating down the Rhein is, if you are doing it recreationally (not for a workout) and also don't want to ride the tram/walk through the city in your swimsuit, waterproof bags are a must. I don't mean Ziploc, here. They are a really specific thing, these brightly-colored kind of fish-shaped bags that you have to seek out and purchase. They are CHF 20 for a small or CHF 30 for a large, I think, and definitely meant to be reused, if that seems expensive. We got a large and fit all four people's stuff in it easily. The problem was just that, since the bags kind of double as a float that you can hold onto and thus not have to work as hard, I wished we had more than one. They are not actually flotation devices, but they really do work! My Mom held onto ours and managed to keep her whole upper back and hair dry. Meanwhile, I found it quite a struggle, actually, to tread water for that long without a break. I hit a stride eventually, and figured out better ways to work with the current. But I think it would be much more pleasant with a float. You can get in and out of the river almost anywhere--there are frequent stairs down to the bank and chains to pull yourself out. But if you miss the last getting out point (Dreirosenbrücke, I believe), you're stuck treading for a very long stretch (I think almost to Germany).

That evening, I thought it would be neat for my parents to see for themselves how close the border to France really is, so we did the Chateau du Landskron hike in Leymen with them even though Juna and I have already done it. We took a picnic of roast chicken, brie, Alp cheese and wine from Drinks of the World, and picked up some local cherries we saw for sale along the trail. Maybe it was a bit silly to carry all this stuff, but it was incredible to eat such a sumptuous meal at a bunch of castle ruins. We saved some wine to take with us up to the top and toasted just before sunset, surrounded by this breathtaking panorama of France, Germany and Switzerland. I think this hike, the last thing we did before my parents left, was actually one of the coolest things we did on the whole trip. And we didn't even have to take a train--the 10 tram that stops near our house goes there (See my other post about this hike here).

Days 7-8: Lucerne, Pilatus, Matterhorn

 After Juna did the Lucerne Festival last year, I was very excited to see this Medieval city and it's famous covered bridge. We did walk the length of the bridge, appreciate its preserved paintings and feed some of the swans (according to Rick Steves, these swans' ancestors were a gift from King Louis XIV), but I felt this day was pretty rushed. I don't know if I would've done it differently given our situation and all that we wanted to see, but the city of Lucerne definitely deserves a whole day itself. We got there early, but still, most of our day was consumed by the Mt. Pilatus round trip. We didn't get to see the Lion statue commemorating all fallen Swiss soldiers, which I had also really wanted to see.

After we explored the lakefront a little bit, we got on the boat which was the first leg of the Golden Round Trip. Serenaded by an Alpine brass brand, we soaked in views of the lake and surrounding mountains that reminded me of Voyage of the Dawn Treader. We could easily have been in some volcanic island oasis, it was so pure.

The Pilatus trip came recommended by a neighbor. Beautiful as it was, though, I don't think I would do it again. Perhaps the Silver Round Trip, which didn't include the boat ride, ran more smoothly. But my problem with our trip was that they let more people on the boat than could fit on the cogwheel trains (the next leg of the journey), so a number of us were stuck at the bottom of the mountain, waiting 45 minutes for the next round of trains. I did a lot of preparatory research about this trip--looked at online timetables, asked folks at tourism offices if a reservation was necessary (they said it wasn't)--but nothing warned me about this wait, and I was really annoyed. I know I've said it before, but I don't like crowds. And we spent a long time waiting in a small space like a herd of cows for this cogwheel experience. Because of this unanticipated glitch in the schedule, we couldn't spend long at the summit if we wanted to do the Rodelbahn (toboggan run), see the Rosengart Collection and eat dinner before catching our train to Zermatt.

However, the ride itself was probably the best part. It's the steepest cogwheel in Europe with a 48% grade at its steepest point. My Dad, Juna and I spent some time discussing what exactly "grade" means, trying to recall high school geometry, but none of us turned out to be right. All we learned is 48% IS pretty steep!

After spending about 15 minutes at the summit, snapping photos in typical tourist fashion, we hopped on a cable car down to Fräkmuntegg where we did the Rodelbahn, a summer toboggan track. Waiting in line with a bunch of children, I wondered if this was going to end up being lame, but actually I found it exciting and my Dad was even a little nervous to do it! You control your own speed which in our case meant Juna sped off into the distance, I followed at a moderate pace, and my Mom, who came next, held up my Dad and the next two people in line after her by braking almost to a stop at every curve. In her defense, those things were hard to maneuver. But it was so cute watching them all inch down the hill in a little toboggan traffic jam.

You can see the Rodelbahn looking like a shiny silver worm way down there

Rodelbahn up close

Then we headed back to town via cable car and bus to see the Rosengart Collection in Lucerne. Angela Rosengart was an art dealer who couldn't bear to part with many pieces and amassed quite a collection, and a few years ago she opened it up to the public. In addition to many great Impressionist pieces there is a whole Picasso floor and a whole Paul Klee floor. It's not a huge museum, but it is very special and we probably could've used a bit more time there than what we budgeted (an hour). Then we had dinner at Fritschi, a place I read had the best fondue around (again, not a summer meal according to real Swiss). It was definitely good, but it is generally way too expensive to get fondue in restaurants in Switzerland--on average, about CHF 30 per person just for cheese fondue and bread to dip in it. I recommend doing the classic plain cheese fondue cooked with a little white wine, and not trying to get fancy with variations which tend just to obscure the cheese.

After dinner we caught the train from Lucerne to Bern, then from Bern to Visp, where we finally transferred to the train to Zermatt, home of the iconic Matterhorn. Here was an instance where the only train we could take was part of a panorama route. It was the last leg of the Glacier Express, which my Dad had read about in Lonely Planet books and wanted to do, but in full takes seven hours. So I vetoed that. It was a lovely ride, though, at least before we lost daylight. We arrived after 10 p.m. at the Jugendherberge, or youth hostel, Zermatt, which I booked in an attempt to make this Swiss vacation more affordable (a seeming paradox, I know). I stupidly assumed Zermatt would be so small that no matter where the Jugendherberge was, we could easily walk there. But since it was late, Mom and Dad wanted to take one of these funky little taxis for CHF 25, and, seeing how many long, winding, uphill back roads we had to take to get there, we were really glad we did. We settled in to our clean, cozy family room with bunk beds and our own bathroom (CHF 196) and woke up at the foot of the Matterhorn, ready to hike.

Not to pick favorites, but this was really the best hiking we had experienced thus far in Switzerland. We took the funicular from Zermatt up to the 5-Seenweg, or the 5 Lakes Trail, which promised medium difficulty, panorama views of the Matterhorn, and lots of wildflower and animal sightings. I agreed with everything except it was way more than medium difficulty in many parts. I think when Swiss trails are categorized as medium, it basically means anything that doesn't require mountain climbing equipment. But it was worth it. Even though past 10 a.m., the Matterhorn stayed pretty cloud-obscured, we hardly noticed. We were glad we got a few shots of the peak in all of its jaggedy majesty earlier on, though. We rode a raft across a lake teeming with tadpoles, ate lunch by a lake with crystal clear reflections of snow-capped mountains, splashed in surreal stream-covered plateaus that looked like ocean sandbars, and, when the weather turned towards the end, almost got stampeded by a herd of mountain goats. OK, we didn't really almost get stampeded, but we did see the goats running down the mountain and onto our trail after a big thunderclap and thought (even hoped) they might run through us. They stopped before actually mowing us down, though. At this point I thought it would be a good opportunity to approach them, but the alpha male with beard and big horns stared me down and made a move to charge me. I admired his protective instincts but didn't stick around to see how far he would actually act on them.

The Matterhorn day turned out to be a great day. We had a leisurely hike, managed not to get struck by lightning and had plenty of time to eat dinner and get back to Basel at a reasonable hour. I even got my perfect cow shot. Even though plenty of people gave me this advice when I was planning the trip, I really had to see it for myself--don't try to do too much in one day. I don't regret doing Lucerne and Pilatus because we got to see a lot of great stuff, but I paid the price of feeling rushed and and constantly worried about getting to the next item on the itinerary. Mom, Dad and Juna all insisted they didn't feel this way, though, so who knows? In the future though, I think I will prefer to pick one thing to do and, as Rick Steves says, savor it.

Days 5-6: Zillis, Andeer, St. Gallen

View from the train towards Graubünden

It only takes a little over three hours to get from one end of Switzerland to the other, but the differences from region to region are marked, somehow. The language varies from German to French to Italian to Romanisch, but even more interesting to me is how, in such a tiny area of land, there is so much geographical variety. Sure, it's all mountainous and there are no drastic climate changes (unless you count the fact that the Alps have a polar climate all year round), but from West to East, Basel to the Berner Oberland to the Graubünden region, there are subtle variations in the flavor of the place. That's why I was so glad my parents were willing to spend so many hours on the train so we could see as many regions as possible. 

The reason for going to Graubünden was because Juna and I hadn't seen much of the Eastern part of Switzerland yet and there seem to be several thermal baths in the area, which is something else we wanted to do. So the plan was to find a nice bath that was near some nice hiking and make it work. Conveniently, I found a trail that started from Thusis, where we'd have to take the train anyway, then led towards Zillis, the village where we'd stay overnight (technically the bath was in Andeer, another closeby village), and passed a spectacular gorge and suspension bridge along the way. The path was called Viamala, or Evil Way, because it was once a traders' mule trail but before the suspension bridge was built was highly dangerous to navigate. But for some reason that didn't tip me off to the fact that the hike might be strenuous. My Mom broke her ankle about a year ago, so we were trying to avoid difficult terrain and steep inclines. Well, this trail had plenty of those things (sorry Mom), but she did great!

After picnicking on this river, we embarked on our hike

That's the same river! This overlook gave me vertigo

Had we known how hard the trail would be, we never would have attempted it. But the rewards were definitely worth it. We passed castle ruins, saw cows (beginning my hunt for the elusive perfect cow shot), walked across a thrilling suspension bridge, played Pooh-sticks over a dramatic ravine, and finally descended into the famous Viamala Gorge (for something like six francs each).

Picnicking and the hike took us longer than I allowed for in the itinerary, so we had to push the thermal baths to the next day. We took the bus to Zillis and checked in at the charming Gasthaus Alte Post, where we appeared to be the only guests. We weren't, but it was close. The woman who checked us in told us normal check-in things, like where and when breakfast would be, that we could pay when we checked out, etc. When I asked her what time check-out was, she said "Wann Sie Lust haben," which means "whenever you want." I thought that seemed luxurious, but I figured if they didn't have many guests right now, it probably didn't matter so much. We ate a delicious dinner at the restaurant downstairs. Their specialty was Capuns, which I have no other way to describe other than to say they are ham-filled doughy pillows wrapped in chard, garnished with thinly sliced ham pieces and served swimming in a savory broth. Juna and I both ordered these not really having any idea what they were, and didn't regret it at all.

Friendly cats abound in Switzerland

Breakfast the next morning was typically Swiss--cold cuts, array of cheeses, yogurt, milk, coffee, tea, cereal, bread with jam, honey and butter. I was excited for my bowl of frosted wheat and poured myself some of the only thing on the table that looked like it could've possibly been milk. It was so sour I was sure it must be Swiss tradition to drink buttermilk with breakfast. So when the lady who seemed to be the owner (different from check-in lady) came in to ask us how everything was, I asked if they had any milk. She pointed to the pitcher full of the heinous buttermilk. I told her that that milk was sour, she looked surprised, apologized and brought some fresh milk. All was well. She seemed to appreciate that we spoke a little German, and with her wiry gray hair and crazy teeth she reminded me of a friendly fairy-tale witch.

We went to explore tiny Zillis' main attraction, St. Martinskirche, a church whose ceiling is covered in hundreds of preserved panels dating back to the early 1100s (another five francs each). The panels depicted Bible scenes, some gruesomely, as well as some strange mythical creatures, one of which was part-elephant part-fish part horse. Poised in this somewhat remote village, against a beautiful mountain backdrop, this tiny church was so much cooler and felt more genuinely spiritual than some of the grander cathedrals I've seen in Europe. After St. Martin's, our plan was to hit the thermal baths and then come back to Zillis to shower before check-out, but while we waited for the bus, I saw the friendly witch running down the street towards us, albeit not looking very friendly. She told us check-out was at 10 and if we didn't want to pay for another night we had better check out. She also said we weren't supposed to take the keys out of the building (what?). It was kind of a scary conversation, especially because it was in German. The other lady had led us astray, so our plan was derailed temporarily.

After checking out, we headed to Mineralbad Andeer. It was neat to swim outdoors in warm water and be surrounded by mountains. It wasn't a huge resort, and maybe it lacked some of the water jet gadget things some of the bigger places have. But in keeping with my preference to avoid crowds, I thought it was perfect. We paid about CHF 26 each for two hours in the baths, which felt to be the right amount of time. Then we headed to St. Gallen and the Stiftsbibliothek, the very old library founded by the monk St. Gallen (St. Gall in English, but I prefer the German). It was fascinating, with intricate ceiling art and two floors of bookshelves housing hundreds of preserved books and manuscripts from pre-Renaissance times. The wheeled ladders you take to reach the higher books are reminiscent of that scene in Beauty and the Beast. But visitors aren't allowed to touch the books--indeed, we weren't allowed to use a camera or even enter the space except by skating across the wooden floor in slippers that fit over our shoes. But a few books spread open in glass cases showed the richly illustrated initials that began each chapter or the prayers monks would use to ask forgiveness for mistakes. I came away with a much heightened appreciation for the art of writing by hand. AND, there was a mummy, of all things. The Bibliothek closed at 5, which meant we were a bit rushed. I wish I had looked that up more carefully so we could've tried to get there sooner, but I mistakenly assumed it would at least stay open until 6, which is the norm.

Outside the library, we caught the end of a public book reading. People lounged in hammocks and bean bag chairs strewn about the square. Unfortunately most of the actual words escaped us, as it was in German. Then, passing an Italian restaurant on the way to the train station, our hunger got the best of us and we ordered a Siciliano pizza to go for a snack to tide us over until dinner. We didn't get to see much of St. Gallen, but the library was breathtaking and the pizza was mouthwatering. So I left with a great impression of the city. We also wandered into this cathedral right next door to the Stiftsbibliothek.