Coming Home to Zürich

I flew back from Dublin on Sunday afternoon and something strange happened. For the first time arriving in Zürich felt like coming home. A big sigh of warmth and contentment. I'm at ease and all is familiar, comfortable, predictable. Motion requires no thought: I know where I'm going and how to get there. Train timetables and tickets, landmarks and streets—no surprises. And I'm eager to get there, to my house, to my kitchen, and then to sleep in my bed. Home.

That was the feeling, and I think it marks a turning point. But soon after I was reminded of just how tenuous the feeling of home can be. I met an expat, and of course we asked each other the obligatory question: How long will you be here? It's almost the first question we ask each other. Sort of like asking if it's a boy or girl. I usually don't make much of this question, but my husband and I got to talking about the future. Where would we be next year? Right here of course. Right? Well, no, not necessarily. I mean probably, almost certainly, but not necessarily. But then if not, what does that mean?

I've already thought about . . .  No I haven't. I've spent a lot of time not thinking about it. Sort of like the way most people in America are one major illness away from bankruptcy, but no one wants to think about it and everyone just goes on blithely making plans for the future. I say things like, "Next year we'll rent a cow! Next year we are going to Knabenschiessen!" Or, "Next year we'll take a week and go hiking in the Bernese Oberland!"

Home is where you make plans.

Of course, it's absolutely true that being with Tony is being home. We are the Tony-and-Kathy island in the middle of a weird and wonderful place. A little world, a universe of two.  But, as Adam Gopnik points out, it can be a lonely universe. The outside world does intrude, and it's full of people speaking a language I don't know and who, by virtue of this alien language, casually and unthinkingly block my abilty to eavesdrop, to chat casually with someone wating in line (every conversation is labored), to take in a PA announcement at the tram stop, or to gather a headline at a glance.

How do you make friends in a place where you are linguistically retarded?  Of course we have friends here, or at least potential friends. (Expat) work colleagues, other expats met through organizations and classes, and possibly our upstairs neighbors—also expats. But Swiss? Someone not only to share a meal but also to share their sense of place and belonging? That sense comes from entanglements in the lives of others, from belonging to the network of relations and obligations that just happens when you grow up in a place. Any anthropologist worth her salt will tell you, as long as you stand outside the web of social obligations, you're just a visitor.

Home is where you belong.

And maybe that's why I have, and I think many expats have, this doubled sense of home. Home is here, where we are now. But home is also somewhere else. The other home has a network of connections and associations that are older and stronger than the new. Social, familial, even financial obligations. A personal history of associations and sense of how things work that precedes sentences like, "At home we always . . ."

On the other hand, to go back to salty, anthropological wisdom, there are lots of ways to make connections and lots of kinds of connections. (I'm pretty sure it was Levi-Strauss who said that.)

On Friday I got a prescription filled at the pharmacy down the street. The transaction proceeded in German for quite a while (yeah!), and then I stumbled (I just could not understand this one question). So we switched to English. And that was when the light went on. Frau Gantebein introduced herself as the owner of the pharmacy, welcomed me to the neighborhood, and extolled the virtues of Seefeld. I heartily agreed with her on the joys of Seefeld. When I complimented her English, she remarked that she speaks English because a very good friend speaks it. Interesting. And nice. Made me feel, you know, sort of at home.

Green Zürich

This week the city of Zürich sponsored a celebration of environmentally friendly transportation, Zürich Multimobil.  As usual, we had no idea this was on and just happened into the event on a afternoon walk. First up, fun for the whole family in self-propelled train cars, racing a short track on the Limmatquai.

Next up, a miniature steam engine train ride for the kids. The green balloons also had messages (environmental good wishes?) attached and were periodically released by the kids. I'm not so sure about the environmental soundness of releasing balloons, but, you know, it's for kids.

Next we headed to the Lindenhof and found the Orienteering Run. After being shouted off the course, we stopped to take a few pictures.

The coolest event was last on our walk. On Rennweg we found the Skateboard Slalom, complete with DJ. You gotta love a place that includes skateboarding as part of a green event.

Sprüngli am Paradeplatz

After a while you start to settle in to a new place. You begin to construct an idiosyncratic pathway through the city, connecting points into lines and lines into the oddly shaped orbits that define your daily life. Two points in my orbit are Orell Füssli and Sprüngli am Paradeplatz.  I can't seem to stop at one without the other.

I love Sprüngli and lunching among women of a certain age (that is, my age). It's one of the few comfortable places to eat alone, the Swiss being very social diners.

 In good weather I try (but usually fail) to find a shady sidewalk table. So I head up the stairs to the big dining room, take a quick sweep for a good seat (or at least one that's open). In no time at all a fast-moving waitress in an old-fashioned, black and white uniform arrives. She's all business and it's best to be ready to order. Back again quickly with food and drink, she leaves the check and zips away, coming back after a suitable interval to check on things.

This is the kind of service where the Swiss excel. It's democratic, brisk, simplified. There's no host or maitre d' to act as gatekeeper, seating the right people in the best seats and directing others to the shadowy recesses of the restaurant. Here, as in many restaurants in Zürich,  you seat yourself. Unlike Paris, there is no prescribed sequence to the meal: aperitif, then 3 courses with wine, and then coffee--but always and only after the meal! Here, if you want just a salad and coffee,  no lifted eyebrow or moue of disdain will be seen.

In Paris, the price for experiencing the seamless grace of a waiter practicing his métier is to be constrained to act out the ritualized part of the diner. In Zürich, the freedom from these constraints is paid for by the tendency for brisk to become brusque and simplification to verge on neglect.  But this is not the case at Sprüngli, where speed and and friendly efficiency are the watchwords. And the waitress always checks back to see if I need anything else.

I almost always do.  Truth be told, the savory foods are just okay here. Lunch is really an excuse to get a Chocolat Chaud (that's how it's listed on the menu, not the Swiss German heissi Schoggi).  As I tackle two solid inches of whipped cream floating on top of the chocolate, I remember reminding myself last time to order ohne Rahm (without cream). Ah, well. Perhaps on the next orbit.

The Freitag Expedition

It's really important for friends and family to visit. Otherwise the poor expat never gets to do all those fun, touristy things that we secretly love: walk around Old Town (again), go to the Zeughauskeller (again), climb the Lindenhof (again), fondue at Le Dezaley (again).



This time a friend's visit was the inspiration (excuse) for a trip to Freitag, the home of the very cool, locally-produced Swiss messenger bags made from recycled materials like truck tarps, seat belts, and airbags.

Rising over the highway near the Hardbrücke station, the stacked containers that make up the four stories of the retail shop (plus observation deck) are emblematic of the product: high concept, industrial sensibility, recycled materials. Plus, you know, it's just cool.








When we first visited Zürich, I thought, "I must have one of these bags. I'll be the only one with a Frei.. no. Wait. Everyone has one of these things.''  But that's because (1) they're eminently practical in this rainy climate and (2) they're made in Switzerland, which is a trump card for the Swiss just about every time.

Messenger bags, handbags, murses, wallets. A surprising range of products can be made from old tarps.  All very industrial. And they even have a kind of tarp-y smell. I'm letting mine air out for a while.

I Still Believe: The Health Care Reform Speech

President Obama laid out his plan for health care reform yesterday before a joint session of Congress. The President took the high ground, despite heckling and jeering from Republicans, and made the case that health care reform is a moral issue, not just an economic one. As discussed previously, his plan is basically the Swiss model with an American twist. Full speech video is below.  (Full text is here.)

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Guest Bloggy

Today I'm guest blogging on One Big Yodel, the fabuous blog by Chantal, who, among many posts and articles for various publications, also writes the laugh-out-loud funny Expat Adventure column for The Swiss News. Check out One Big Yodel for more about the expat life.

Rote Fabrik: The Boho Side of the Lake

Last night I finally got to go for sunset drinks at Rote Fabrik, and now I see why the employees at a certain tech company favor the place for the after work apero. The place is the definition of laid back: A scattering of picnic tables on the lawn look out over the lake behind the old Red Factory; the food and drink are cheap by Zürich standards; the lake is beautiful, and everyone just chills. This is not the Gold Coast (the sunny east side of the lake). No suits, no wannabe pop stars, no obsessive body culture of any kind.

Just chill. Wander into the cavernous bar/dining room for a drink and back out to the lakeside. Admire the sailboats. And everywhere, bathrooms too, there is technicolor graffiti. Order dinner. Here it's best to stick to the basics. As Tony says, the Spaghetti Bolognese is just like something your friend might make for you on a Wednesday night. The wine is just like the wine your friend might serve if she was really good at finding excellent, value-priced wines.  Oh, and it's cash only, pay as you go.

Rote Fabrik, a red-brick former silk factory that was owned by the city, started its counter culture life in the 1980s as an artists squat.



Following street protests and riots to save the factory, a collective appropriated the property in late 1980. The Rote Fabrik collective went legit in 1987 and applied for a permit and arts funding. If it lost street cred, it gained a vibrant arts and education program, including theater, visual arts, and music.

Forget about the shiny, shiny Gold Coast. Check out the Rote Fabrik on the Boho coast.

Wine Fest in Meilan

This weekend was the Great Wines of the Zürichsee festival in Meilan, and we were eager to go. One of the first Swiss wines we tried after arriving in our new home was a Blauburgunder (aka, Clevner, Pinot Noir) from the Zürich region, and it was really good. Aromatic, elegantly lean, very food friendly. Grand Cru Brugundy? No. But it was as good as many Pinots being made on the West coast of the US and in New Zealand.  We knew there was strong potential to discover good wines, and perhaps a winemaker or two that we liked.  Plus it was also a truly local event with wines just from the Zürichsee region. Tony has hiked through the vineyards of Stäffa, where many of these wines are grown. And the event was free!

 The event itself was held in the Löwen, right across the street from the dock in Meilan. It's a beautiful venue, with carved, painted wood ceilings and big windows looking out over the lake. About 15 winemakers had gathered in the large Weinpavillion room upstairs. Yes, the actual winemakers were pouring, not something that always happens in the tasting room.

We each grabbed a glass and a Spuckbecher (crachoir) and started to work our way around the room.

Right away we found that things worked a little differently here. In most tasting rooms and festivals we've been to (US and France), the winemaker has chosen a flight of 4-6 wines to pour, from lightest to biggest. No so here. The winemakers seem to have one of everything from the most recent vintage(s) and you have to choose the wines you wanted to taste. Once we realized this, we knew to grab the often-lengthy wine list first and avoid confusion.

The first winemaker's wines tended to green, stem-my or vegetal flavors, not good but not a surprise. The Zürich wine region is right at the limit of climate conditions for vinifera grapes, a little rainier and and a little cooler on average than the minimum usually needed for successful ripening. However, with so many micro-climates available here, it seemed likely that other vineyards might be more successful.

The wines in cool climates tend to be a little more acidic as well, the classic example being German Rieslings. Unlike the green notes, acidity can be a very good thing indeed.

In addition to all of the usual suspects (Pinot Gris, Pinot Blanc, Pinot Noir) there were many varietals on offer that are unique to Eastern Switzerland, or at least quite uncommon elsewhere. Many of the winemakers were presenting one of the region's most popular grapes, the Riesling x Sylvaner, a hybrid developed here in the 19th century that ripens early (good in this climate) and has a very fruity profile.  The ones we tried tended be soft and off-dry. Okay quaffers. We've also previously sparkling wines made from this grape and these have been quite good, a great substitute for a Prosecco. Most of the winemaker's in the room had a sparkling wine on their list. Unfortunately, the sparklings were not on offer for tasting (unlike the rest of the wines) at most tables.

Another hybrid, Freisamer (a Pinot Gris x Sylvaner cross), was also on offer at one table. This was a spicy white with a big mouthfeel and off-dry finish.  There's that off-dry description again. Most of the growers are making wine for local consumption and it seems that Swiss often prefer sweeter wines.

A number of winemakers also offered Räuschling, a very traditional grape in Eastern Switzerland. A higher acid profile than the Riesling x Sylvaners and a quite floral nose. A lovely white wine for an aperitif. Apparently this grape matures late, which makes it a challenge to grow here.  It's nice to see that it has an audience.

The next new varietal we tried was a Diolinoir from Erich Meier, a red wine that we loved. As befits a Pinot Noir cross (with the Dioli Rouge), the nose is dreamy with layers of black and red fruits. Balanced and with a very dry finish (although not a very long finish), this was one we actually ordered on the spot.  We also liked his very structured St. Laurent (a Pinot Noir relative). His Riesling was a sprightly wine with apple and kiwi notes. We ordered some of his sparkling wine too, confident that this would be good as well.

Erich Meier turned out to be our absolute favorite winemaker at the show. We were charmed by Eveline Heusser, who named her sparkling wine for her daughter Clarissa, and we learned a lot about wines of the region from Didi Michel (Schipf), but Meier's wines were the standout of the show. The good news is that Meier was giving out invitations to a tasting at his winery this weekend. We are definitely going!


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Resources
German Wine Terminology. All in German but really helpful. I'll be doing my best to learn these terms before the tasting this weekend.

The Surprising Wines of Switzerland. The first comprehensive reference in English and an excellent introduction to the wines of the region.

Swiss Wine Guide 2009-2010. Produced by a partnership of Swiss wine industry groups, the third edition is available in English, German, French, and Italian.

In Search of the Perfect Dram. In Zürich?

I've just finished re-reading Iain Banks' Raw Spirit: In Search of the Perfect Dram and have been daydreaming about going back to Scotland, perhaps even following in Banks' footsteps across the Islands and the Highlands.  Strange serendipity, I just found out that I don't have to go that far for a wee dram of the old and rare. Instead I can head a few blocks north to Oberdorfstrasse to Glen Fahren.

I knew that the Zürcher are big whisky fans (that's malt whisky, no 'e', from Scotland). The Widder Bar's buyer/manager is a whisky fanatic and his single malt list is a thing of beauty. It's actually a great place to try a 30-year-old Macallan or any other fantastically expensive bottle you've always wanted to taste, because your little two-decaliter pour might dent your wallet but it won't break the bank. In any case, whiskies are pretty widely available here (in bars). Even the Globus Bar am Bellvue  has Lagavullin 16. The Swiss know their whiskies. I just didn't realize that whisky nirvana was only a few steps away from my door.  (Oh wow, oh wow. This is so cool.)

We actually spotted the shop while out walking and did double-takes when window display registered. About face and beeline for the door. The Lindenhof can wait.

Greetings to the friendly proprietor and we're off.  At least two shelf-meters of Bowmore ("If you can't find a Bowmore to love in love with...") and next to that a shelf full of Bruichladdichs we hadn't seen before. While Tony got all wrapped up in Bruichladdich reverie, I spotted the Laphroig shelf. Laphroig 30! I literally jumped in the air and waved my arms. Hey, hey! Look at this, Tony!

That kind of enthusiasm doesn't go unnoticed and the proprietor came over. American? Wait. I have something for you. While he's gone, we keep whisky spotting. Highland Park. Mmm nice. Jura? Nobody stocks Jura. Look at all the Talliskers! Macallan Gran Reserva. Wow. And the Bowmores again.

Now I used to be a died-in-the-wool, don't-try-to-sell-me-that Islay-stuff Macallan fan. And the older the better, please.  But once I had a wee dram of an Islay (probably a Lagavullin) while on a sailboat, I suddenly it got it. The salt air, the seaweed-salt tang and peat of the whisky. It all made sense. (We've actually made several sailing-induced conversions to Islay whiskies among our friends.) After that, I started to love these "strange, fierce, acerbic whiskies," as Banks calls them.

The proprietor comes back and with a big smile presents a bottle, saying, "Now you can forget about all these Scottish whiskies." Not much chance of that but we're willing to hear him out. He'd brought out a bottle of 24-year-old Willett Kentucky Rye Whiskey. The company had gone under in 1986, and Glen Fahran had recently bought up the last casks, he explained as he poured us a glass. It was remarkable whiskey: aged for two years in white oak, it had developed a deep caramel nose with nutmeg and hazelnut favors. I coughed a bit, not surprising at 69.4% ABV (138.8 proof), but the finish just went on and on. Okay. We'll take a bottle.

But we can't leave without an Islay. At the proprietor's urging we settle on the Bowmore Darkest. We pay up and by now I'm feeling a bit guilty about indulging in all this non-Swiss distilled product. But wait, just as we leave we spot a single malt from Appenzell. Who even knew such a thing existed?  Now we definitely have to come back. And of course there's that Pedro Jiminez Sherry Cask Bruichladdich to try as well...

And later that night...

By 11:00 PM Saturday night the rails were being laid and joins cut. We went downstairs and joined the fun. The Chef (boss) was a bit suspicious of our cameras until we took his picture.

 

 

The joins still need to be welded as of this morning.  But the trams started on time. Ah, well. Soon, soon...

Seefeldstrasse Construction: The Final Push

The big drills and trucks rolled in at 7:00 AM today to finish track replacement on our block. The house shook and rattled as the asphalt, concrete, and rails were broken up. By 7:00 PM the underlayment and fill for the new tracks had been laid and trenches were being dug for new piping.

The good news is that once the new tracks are laid (by Monday morning), the worst of the construction project will be over for our section of the street. Work is scheduled to continue on the street until November, however.