A perennial expat muses about her recent move from Zurich to Munich and her travels around Germany, Europe, and the world. Currently: bracing for Oktoberfest.
You'll find the answer (well, one possible answer) in this article about the dire shortages faced in Switzerland in the lead-up to the Euro 2008 (soccer championships).
Article found via A Swiss Story.
Having spent two years in Switzerland, I know exactly where to find such things.
More cowbell from zurika on Vimeo.
I think I've finally done it: I've gotten "grüezi" out of my system. After merely a week, I'm able to walk into a shop in Munich and not automatically blurt out the Swiss greeting. It's actually not too hard here, since the standard greeting in Bavaria is "Gruβ Gott!", which starts out a bit like "grüezi" anyway, making it possible to start out with one and then make a save half-way through and change it to the other without sounding like too much of a confused loser. OK, that last part may or may not be true - for all I know I sound like a confused loser all the time here. At least the Bavarians are nice about it. :)
I've also managed to break the Swiss habit of saying "merci" instead of "danke", although I admit to letting an "en guete" pass my lips once or twice this week. Now as long as I can remember to say "Fahrrad" instead of "Velo" and "Schokolade" instead of "Schoggi", I should be all set.
After two years here, I finally made it to the Lindt & Sprüngli chocolate factory in Kilchberg, just outside of Zurich. You can't actually go inside the factory (which may or may not be run by Oompa Loompas), but you can (1) walk by it and breathe in its insanely chocolaty smells, and (2) visit the factory outlet chocolate shop.
30 minutes later, and all my Christmas shopping was done.
The factory shop has limited opening hours, so check the schedule before you go. To get there, take bus 165 from Bürkliplatz to the Schooren stop, about 10 minutes away. The bus runs as infrequently as every half hour during the day; check out sbb.ch for specific schedule info.
Posted from Thalwil.
As it turns out, the Swiss are pretty good at it, too.
So tonight we went to a Wir Sind Helden concert. Now don't get me wrong - Wir Sind Helden is definitely one of my all-time favorite German-singing bands. Right up there with Xavier Naidoo and the late great Falco. But I'm not such a fan of standing in a smoke-filled crowded room listening to really loud live music while drinking 7-franc Miller Genuine Draft (an atrocity which I'm sure would never happen in Germany, but the Swiss' taste in beer is a story for another post). At least I had the good sense to hit up the coat check counter at the beginning of the encore, thus saving us an hour-long wait...
When we weren't pulling our hair out trying to plan travel this weekend, we were off enjoying some lovely winter-like activities. Zurich is a fabulous place to be in the winter, assuming you like, um, winter. I am sorry we will be leaving before the real winter starts, but at least we are getting a little tease now.
Fondue season was declared officially open on Saturday. I think raclette season is right around the corner. Sure we'll be bringing our fondue pot and raclette grill with us to our next home, but what if these treats don't taste as good when you're not physically located in Switzerland? Best to eat as much melted cheese as physically possible while we're still in the country, just to be safe.
On Sunday morning we woke up early and went ice skating at Dolder. Environmentalists are unhappy with the fact that Zurich's outdoor rinks have opened despite unseasonably warm weather, since it's awfully inefficient to make all that ice. But if Al Gore can travel by private jet, I certainly get to take a little spin around the ice every once in a while. It was glorious. The rink was pretty deserted for a weekend, with the exception of some intense curling (matches? games?) going on in a roped-off section of ice. Given that it was before noon, we resisted the Gluehwein on offer in the snack bar, but it was tempting...
The wintery weekend was topped off with some roasted chestnuts. Now I'm just crossing my fingers that Coop will start selling Zimtsterne before we move away. Sometimes it doesn't take very much at all to make me happy.
They spread it on sandwiches by the gallon. They slather it on pretzels by the kilo. But apparently, the Swiss are just not consuming enough butter.
Their butter levels have become so dangerously low, in fact, that the Swiss Butter Council* has decided to intervene. To increase local butter awareness, the SBC has implemented an aggressive ad campaign to let the public know about how very natural eating copious amounts of butter really is.**
Thanks to TQE's recent buttery post for reminding me to bring this important subject to my readers' attention. Now go spread butter on something and eat it. Or your skin will turn unnaturally brown. Or something.
* OK, so I made this part up. There is no such thing as the Swiss Butter Council, at least as far as I know. The people behind the campaign are the mysterious butter.ch folk. Be sure to stop by their site and play the buttermeter game. Increase your butter levels today!
** At the very least, it's more natural than wearing metallic bikini underwear.
We spent the day before the cow fights in Sion, a lovely little Valais city not far from Martigny. The main attractions (beyond the charming downtown walking district) are multiple picturesque hilltop castles which overlook the city. Gluttons for punishment that we are, we hiked up to two castles (one of which is technically a church... shhhh, don't tell the word police). The views of the city and the distant snow-capped Alps were enough to bring a tear to your eye and make you a tiny bit sad you were about to move away from Switzerland.
And then we headed back down into the city to sample copious amounts of the local wine.
Ranoma's victory (in the 500 to 600 pound category)
Martigny Cow Fighting - Ranoma's victory from zurika on Vimeo.
Two cows escape the ring
Martigny Cow Fighting - the escape from zurika on Vimeo.
It's fall in Switzerland - you know what that means, right? Time for the farmers to start entertaining themselves (and others) with their cows. Not to be outdone by last year's desalpes, this past weekend we headed west to watch Cows Fighting in Martigny.
What's that, you say? You're not familiar with cow fighting? Well then, allow me to explain a little. Keep in mind that this whole event transpired in French (and not just any kind of French, but Swiss Farmer French), so I'm still a little hazy on some of the details. But I can tell you about what I saw.
We arrived at the Roman amphitheater around noon, bought our CHF 30 tickets, a couple of beers, and some roasted chestnuts, and went to find our seats. We were just in time for the semi-final rounds, which consisted of the following: 8-10 farmers each led a cow into the ring; at the announcer's 'go', said farmers unbridled their cows and retreated to the sidelines (from which they cheered on their bovines while intently watching the action); the cows would randomly strike up battles with each other, butting heads and locking horns until one cow got intimidated/scared/bored and backed down; the announcer occasionally called out for either (a) two particular cows to be brought together and encouraged to fight or (b) a particular cow to be bridled and led off the field (similar to a couple receiving a shoulder tap during a dance competition, I imagine). Eventually it was determined which cows would advance to the finals, and then the next group would come in.
The finals resembled the semi-finals except that the last 5 remaining cows in each category (naturally, the competitors were separated by weight class) received prize bells and had official pictures taken by a horde of photographers. Plus the winner got a classy red ribbon tied around her body. And, of course, bragging rights.
Luckily we were provided with programs, so we knew not only the names of the fighting cows, but also the names of their trainers, er, farmers. In one round we watched Picatchu (one of two Picatchus, actually) battle to victory. In another, Papillon stole it from the early favorite, Bataille. On a pretty regular basis, a cow or two would decide she wanted no part in the fighting, and would barrel out of the ring, with five or six farmers clinging to her, trying in vain to direct her trajectory. We were pretty amazed that we didn't see any major injuries (although one battle was forfeited based on a cow's bloody nose). More photos here.
Midsummer Night’s Knitter asked me a bit ago if I had any advice for someone moving to
. It has its faults (like how it perpetuates scary myths about Swiss apartment house rules) but overall it’s pretty useful info to help you feel more prepared.I’m sure I’ll think of more to add later…
Last Sunday afternoon we headed down from Murren and went to visit the Trummelbach Falls. This is a series of waterfalls roaring through a mountain, runoff from the melting glaciers of the Eiger, Monch, and
Trummelbach Falls are reachable via bus (7 minutes) from Lauterbrunnen, and admission is CHF 12 (definitely worth it, despite what the disgruntled German tourists in front of us in line may have thought when they found out the ticket price).
Kind of reminded me of Ruby Falls. OK, not really.
And now for a more beautiful side of 
Murren is so idyllic it almost makes me weep. There are no cars in this little 400-person village nestled cozily into the side of an Alp, and the only way to arrive is via one of two big ski gondolas. We spent Saturday afternoon wandering around the village and taking pictures, with a brief stop at Coop (yes, even in this remotest of outposts there is a Coop) to stock up on happy hour essentials (i.e., beer and snacks). Then it was back to the hotel to sit on our balcony, consume our consumables, and soak in the view. Next we visited the hotel pool, which was full of various jets and bubbly things to massage and stimulate various parts of your body, and also had a panoramic
We watched sunset from the balcony, then headed down to the hotel restaurant for dinner (which wasn’t bad, but I would not recommend the vegetarian cutlet thingies). The next morning we went out for a hike (after a lovely hotel breakfast and another dip in the pool).
We decided that although it’s not quite as perfect as it is during the winter, Murren in the summer is pretty gosh darn lovely, too. More summer Murren pictures here.
So today I open my mailbox to find a brochure from the good old SVP (the Swiss political party of black sheep infamy). I decided to flip through and see what new and improved bigoted scare tactics they were using in the run up to the election. I didn't have to flip very far.
This young man was featured on page two, alongside a story about how very, very many foreigners are criminals. Did he scare you?
A few pages later was this woman, along with statistics (obviously designed to alarm the reader) about how the Muslim population in Switzerland has been growing exponentially in recent years. Under a list of 'facts' about the Left (the SVP's political opponents), I found these fun facts: not only does the Left want a multicultural society, but if we leave it to them, soon they'll start handing passports out to everyone!
I'm sure there were plenty of other juicy tidbits contained in this 8-page SVP ad, but I had to stop reading. It was making me sick to my stomach.
In this part of the world, you’ll notice that many people’s mailboxes sport stickers that say things like “no advertisements, please”. That’s all it takes to avoid a box full of Werbung (ads and leaflets). Mass mailings from political parties and charities still come through, but nothing else. Less junk, save a few trees… who wouldn’t want that? In fact, almost everyone seems to take advantage of this easy way to opt out of junk mail.
The other day we received a piece of mail from Swiss Post itself. The envelope contained a sheet of mailbox stickers (in a variety of convenient sizes) which all say “Werbung? O.K.!” The accompanying letter was an impassioned plea for the implementation of the stickers on our mailbox, containing lines such as “maybe you’ve changed your mind about receiving Werbung” and “perhaps it wasn’t even you who made the decision to halt the Werbung flow, and you just inherited your ‘no ads’ sticker from the previous occupant” (in fact, this is true in our case). The letter attempted to make Werbung sound like something you were missing out on, something that would make your life fuller, more complete. It made me laugh. Hard.
I’m dying to know if anyone actually placed the “Junk mail for me, please!” stickers on their mailbox after receiving this letter from the Swiss Post. I’m also tempted to stick them on other people’s mailboxes, or perhaps even on our mailbox, right before we move out. (kidding!)
If you hang out with any foreigners in Switzerland these days, sooner or later the conversation is likely to turn to the SVP’s current ad campaign. You know, the one where the white sheep are banishing the black sheep from their country. The posters are up all over Switzerland, and the ads are featured in newspapers daily. One would think (hope?) that the people responsible for such ads were some fringe radical right extremist group, but in fact it’s the largest political party in the country. The SVP claims that they only want to kick out criminal 'black sheep' (and their families), but the graphics tend to leave a different impression.
Now if the signs with the triumph of white (sheep) over black (sheep) isn’t enough wholesome Swiss fun for you, you can head over to this SVP site for even more xenophobic good times… in one game, you get to play a border patrol goat tasked with eating Swiss passports before they fall into the hands of the multi-color foreigners; in another, it’s your job to forcibly keep the black sheep from crossing the boarder into your country (but you can let the white sheep in).
I wish I were making this up.
[Note to my readers added 6-Sept-07: While I don't really have a policy for what can and cannot be said in the comments section, today I received an anonymous comment that was so disgustingly racist that I felt the need to delete it. It is hard to decide where to draw the line - I normally encourage debate and different viewpoints, but at the end of the day I do not want my blog used as a platform for anonymous hate speech. Feel free to share with me your thoughts on this decision, if you're so inclined...]
On Saturday night, Zurich’s museums opened their doors for the Lange Nacht der Museen, an annual affair that involves late-night openings and special events all over the city (with, of course, extremely efficient all-night public transportation connecting it all). We visited an impressive eight museums (out of 40) over the course of the evening, definitely getting our money’s worth out of the CHF 25 admission fee.
We started out at the Museum Rietberg, where we took in some Asian sculpture. Then it was across town to the Botanical Garden, which lured us in with its Slow Food exhibit. Given that we were hungry for actual food, we kind of hurried through the exhibit (stopping to sample many varieties of tomatoes at one display on the way) and headed to our next stop, the Museum Bellerive. In addition to a lovely Jugendstil exhibit inside, the courtyard of the museum was turned into a Bavarian beer garden for the evening. We filled up on pretzels, salads, sausages, and beer, took a quick spin around the inside of the museum, and then wandered towards the Chinagarten. A gift from one of
Next up was the Johann Jacobs Museum, a tiny place where you can learn all about coffee. Well, a little about coffee. A short tram ride later and we were at the Mühlerama, a popular destination featuring a (disappointing) chocolate fountain, baked goods, and an exhibition about fat in all its incarnations. After reading about
Next it was on to the NONAM, or Native American museum (who knew Zurich had such a thing?), which I will now always remember for (1) the hideously acted old western film they were showing in the courtyard, and (2) the hideous-tasting pumpkin muffin that we made the mistake of purchasing there. The evening’s grand finale (for us, anyway) took place at the Kunsthaus,
Yesterday afternoon we took a train to Walenstadt (about an hour from
After the boat ride, it was on to the evening’s main event: Heidi – das Musical, Teil 2. The large outdoor stage is right next to the lake, set up so the audience can enjoy the spectacular view as part of the backdrop (and also so we had something to look at when the story line started dragging). The musical itself, which was performed in a mix of High German and Swiss German, was OK. It told the story of Heidi in parallel with a story about the life of Johanna Spyri, Heidi’s creator.
I was most amused by the co-marketing going on around the musical. We received free Heidi brand ice cream on a stick just for attending, and there were samples of Heidi brand yogurt available at intermission. And on our way out, we were each handed a bottle of Heidi brand water which – I kid you not – promised to give us “Heidi Power.” Anyone know what that might entail?
My trip to French-speaking
We spent the evening in
Martigny is a tiny town nestled between a couple vineyard-covered mountains. It’s cute enough, but I doubt it would ever see much tourist action if it weren’t for the world-class art exhibits put on by the Foundation Pierre Gianadda. We were sucked in by promises of a large Marc Chagall exhibit, and weren’t disappointed. The exhibition space was… different. It kind of reminded me of a 1970s American church annex or community center. It was surprisingly crowded for a Wednesday morning, but the paintings were worth it.
The complex also has a large sculpture garden (featuring, among other things, a giant thumb and a giant breast). We wandered through this (the garden, not the boob) on our way to the second building which housed a Leonardo da Vinci exhibit, featuring models of the some of the great artist’s many inventions, including drawbridges, military tanks, and flying machines. His brilliance always makes me drool. And reminds me to practice my mirror-writing.
We headed back into town and had a late lunch under the chestnut trees on the main
