Swiss Family Grass

One of the benefits to exploring a country as small as Switzerland is that the drive time or train ride between destinations is relatively short. You can cross the entire country in a few hours drive time, and many of the ‘must see’ destinations are close to each other.

With another of Heidi’s excellent breakfasts in our bellies, we departed for a day of sightseeing.

First stop was Liechtenstein. As one of the smallest countries on earth, Liechtenstein’s main draw is the castle belonging to the royal family. Frankly, I was expecting more. First of all, you cannot go into the castle. Second, major renovations are currently being done on the exterior, so the view isn’t quite what one would expect. For a quick stop off the autobahn, the visit to the castle is a five-minute detour, max!

With a simple entry onto the freeway we were once again travelling in Switzerland, and we headed to St. Gallen to find the restaurant of a Swiss friend of Dad’s named Markus. Markus runs several establishments in Switzerland. He has a few bars, social clubs, dance clubs, and restaurants scattered throughout Switzerland. We decided to try the restaurant US MEX, to see how Mexican food fared in Switzerland. At first, we were unable to locate the restaurant. But, it didn’t take us long to find the place. A quick stop of a young pedestrian on the street provided directions to the correct street. With a point of finger, we were on our way.

When we arrived, there was a handful of guests dining on Mexican fare and having what appeared to be a relaxing late lunch. We asked if Markus was in and the waitress replied that he was not. Less than five minutes later, Markus came trotting down the stairs. Markus passed us initially, then did a double take and swung around to our table. He said, “I just sent you an e-mail.” Next, he asked us if we ordered, motioned to the wait staff that we would all be dining in the back room, and waved us back to a large, well-lit dining room.

We passed the afternoon with conversation of politics, the price of gas, smoking bans in Europe, and more politics. Markus gave us a few protocol pointers, and sent us on our way with full stomachs and for me, a yearning to spend time with others willing to break social taboos and talk about the ‘not so easy subjects’. I’ve always thought politics and religion could be discussed frankly. I have never seen the need for avoiding subjects that may lead to debate. I guess I’ve always felt that if you are willing to engage in conversation about “sensitive” subjects, then at the very least you are a critical thinker, able to argue your point while attempting to have a grasp on your counters’ philosophy.

Out time with Markus passed quickly, and we left to return to Uetliburg for dinner with Heidi and her family. As we drove out of St. Gallen, Markus had a good laugh as he watched us drive the wrong way down a one-way street.

When we returned to Heidi’s house, a phone call from the shipping agency informed us that our van would arrive tomorrow. We made arrangements for the shipper to pick us up at the train station in Basel and drive us to the shipping yard.

The following morning we had breakfast with the ladies; Ruth (Heidi’s sister), Alice (their mother), and Heidi.

Next, Heidi drove us to the train station for the two and one half hour ride to Basel. Petey stayed behind with his new best friend Heidi, known to Petey as “the lady who gives me yummy wet cat food”.

The train ride to Basel was picturesque. We travelled along Lake Zurich before turning toward our destination. For the most part, the occasional town broke up cows and countryside. One of the most striking developments along the ride was a massive nuclear reactor. The reactor looked as if it had been dropped from the sky, with no method to determining the location of its’ resting place. Now, I’m not saying that nuclear reactors look normal anywhere, but this particular reactor rose from the ground of idyllic little Switzerland, smack dab in the center of a village. Not far out in the country, or in a deserted mountainous region, as one would assume. Instead, the reactor looked like a prop from a toy train set, resting near the tracks with a quaint village on the ground, dwarfed by its’ massive shadows. A gentle, (or not so gentle) reminder that the globe continues to be dependent on nuclear power.

We were met at the station by the shipper, a French man who drove us a total of 50 yards to the storage facility where the van had been unloaded. It took us about an hour to complete and inventory and re-pack items that had been stored inside the van for shipment. The shipping agent told us to remember to purchase an autobahn permit (or play stupid if we were pulled over by the police). Then, he looked at Andy strapping our bikes to the front of the van and asked if we planned to drive with the bikes on the front. We replied yes, and he mentioned that he thought it was illegal to drive with bikes loaded on the front. His advice for us? Same as before…play stupid. With those parting words, we were on our way.

Little did we know, that little comment would start what would become weeks of people telling us the same thing. First, as we drove through Zurich on the way back to Heidi’s, random pedestrians on the streets suffered from whiplash as they swung their heads around to look at a van with bikes strapped to the front. Some even shook their heads in disgust or made a face of complete surprise. Our laughter at our current predicament (do we try to find another bike rack to purchase or keep driving with the bikes strapped to the front) was only broken up by the sudden appearance of a number of Hassidic Jews. There were Jews walking the streets everywhere. And, just as quickly as it began, it stopped. It was hard for me to believe we had just stumbled on a Jewish neighbourhood in Switzerland, but my surprise was short lived as they had gone as quickly as they had come. It was like we had travelled into some type of time warp, a wrinkle of time and space that lasted only for an instant. We were brought back from our moment of perplexing people watching when we were waiting at a red light and saw a strip club on the street named ‘PASCHA’s”. The club had a peek-a-boo, complete with the customary sultry red-lit window. We laughed and tried to grab a picture before the light turned green. It’s a rare occasion when you find an establishment bearing the name of my sister. And if you do, the name is usually spelled differently.

We drove on the autobahn back to Heidi’s, with me praying that we would not get a ticket for lack of the freeway permit. When we pulled into Heidi’s driveway, she looked over her balcony and stared at the bikes. The first thing she said to us was, “You drive with the bikes on the front like that?” With a shrug of the shoulders we said, “That’s the way we do it at home.”

We had a farewell dinner with Heidi and her family, and dusk was marked with one last beautiful sunset. If I ever move to Switzerland, it will be to Uetliburg.