Thursday, December 18, 2008
Mi Casa
Notice the copious crash space. Yinz need to visit. http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/MiCasa
Monday, November 24, 2008
Uetliberg
It was a beautiful day for a trip to Uetliberg. Check it out: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Uetliberg . I also took a 90MB (34k * 3k pixels) panorama of the city, but I don't have anywhere to post it.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
G9, the sequel.
I found a Canon G10 on special yesterday for 610 CHF. Everywhere else in town has them for 830. I took immediate advantage, and then I headed out in the evening to try it out on some festive decorations. Here are the results:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/JelmoliChristmasWindows#
I'm pleased.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/JelmoliChristmasWindows#
I'm pleased.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Je ne comprends pas.
My strategy of pretending to only speak French to people who approach me on the street (who I want to avoid) has now failed for the second time, leading to two conversations that were just as uncomfortable and far more difficult than they would have been in English. The first time -- in Berlin -- I spoke with a gaunt, unshaven man for ten minutes or so about some march protesting Chinese human rights policy while the poor girl selling the tour tickets worked through a transaction with a foreign couple who didn't speak much English at all. After a while, I sheepishly admitted that I am American (and that I speak English). He said I didn't have an American accent while speaking French. +1!
Today I ran into someone at the ATM machines nearby. There are 5 or 6 of them, plus 3 or 4 larger terminals that you can use to do arbitrary banking stuff. The ATMs differ slightly in which currencies and denominations they dispense, and the guy was using the one I really wanted (which can dispense 20CHF notes, instead of only 50/100/200). I think he was just really drunk, but it's hard to tell. Either way, we had a brief, but similarly uncomfortable discussion, in French, about Obama. Of course we did.
Perhaps I'll give up this strategy and treat people with the respect they deserve. Then again, this has worked quite well, despite two strikes.
In the end, it's a pretty fundamental social question, and I don't have a good answer. Or any answer. But yinz are smarter and more worldly than I.
Discuss.
Today I ran into someone at the ATM machines nearby. There are 5 or 6 of them, plus 3 or 4 larger terminals that you can use to do arbitrary banking stuff. The ATMs differ slightly in which currencies and denominations they dispense, and the guy was using the one I really wanted (which can dispense 20CHF notes, instead of only 50/100/200). I think he was just really drunk, but it's hard to tell. Either way, we had a brief, but similarly uncomfortable discussion, in French, about Obama. Of course we did.
Perhaps I'll give up this strategy and treat people with the respect they deserve. Then again, this has worked quite well, despite two strikes.
In the end, it's a pretty fundamental social question, and I don't have a good answer. Or any answer. But yinz are smarter and more worldly than I.
Discuss.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
On Glühwein
I've observed a couple of novel concoctions since my arrival. At first, there was the Panache, a mix of beer and sprite that's fairly popular around here. I tried it once, and it was pretty unimpressive. Which is to say, it was sweet fizzy beer. If wine coolers were made for beer, a Panache would be one of them.
More recently, I observed a most terrible thing. Someone took a glass mug of red wine, poured some sugar in it, and put under the milk steamer for a while. Then they put something on the top, added an orange slice, and served it to someone. Insofar as I've spent some effort over the past two years to keep my wine away from heat at all costs, my mind was boggled. I asked a few questions about it, and ultimately left feeling I'd witnessed something quite unholy.
As it would happen, last night as I was walking by I noticed that Gerrie (Geraldine), the waitress who'd I'd grilled about it, was working. When we first spoke, Gerrie seemed a little incredulous that I didn't know what it was, and that us yanks would drink apple cider with cinnamon instead. At any rate, she's a fan, and so I told her I would try it and then write about it on the Internet.
The first indication that this would be a memorable experience came when she refused to show me the wine bottle's label. Oh yes. We have high quality product. The rest of the ritual progressed as before: wine in mug; add sugar; stir; heat until steaming; add some cloves; float an orange slice in it; place on a saucer with a piece of chocolate, a spoon, and a sugar packet; serve.
Gluehwein is not a complex drink, and it tastes basically like you'd imagine. The depth of the wine is gone, like you've left it out too long (or, maybe, like you've heated it up in a steamer). The flavor of the orange is pretty strong, and it begins to make up for the lack of body. I don't get the point of the cloves, other than to have something other than the taste to focus on while drinking. Anyone who claims that swirling a mug is all you need to keep a pair of cloves from going down is quite mistaken. I imagine that if I were stuck in an igloo, Gluehwein would be quite pleasant.
Which is to say, the results weren't as bad as I feared, but I'll be preparing some hot apple cider for a throwdown.
More recently, I observed a most terrible thing. Someone took a glass mug of red wine, poured some sugar in it, and put under the milk steamer for a while. Then they put something on the top, added an orange slice, and served it to someone. Insofar as I've spent some effort over the past two years to keep my wine away from heat at all costs, my mind was boggled. I asked a few questions about it, and ultimately left feeling I'd witnessed something quite unholy.
As it would happen, last night as I was walking by I noticed that Gerrie (Geraldine), the waitress who'd I'd grilled about it, was working. When we first spoke, Gerrie seemed a little incredulous that I didn't know what it was, and that us yanks would drink apple cider with cinnamon instead. At any rate, she's a fan, and so I told her I would try it and then write about it on the Internet.
The first indication that this would be a memorable experience came when she refused to show me the wine bottle's label. Oh yes. We have high quality product. The rest of the ritual progressed as before: wine in mug; add sugar; stir; heat until steaming; add some cloves; float an orange slice in it; place on a saucer with a piece of chocolate, a spoon, and a sugar packet; serve.
Gluehwein is not a complex drink, and it tastes basically like you'd imagine. The depth of the wine is gone, like you've left it out too long (or, maybe, like you've heated it up in a steamer). The flavor of the orange is pretty strong, and it begins to make up for the lack of body. I don't get the point of the cloves, other than to have something other than the taste to focus on while drinking. Anyone who claims that swirling a mug is all you need to keep a pair of cloves from going down is quite mistaken. I imagine that if I were stuck in an igloo, Gluehwein would be quite pleasant.
Which is to say, the results weren't as bad as I feared, but I'll be preparing some hot apple cider for a throwdown.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Halloween
Nothing to see here. Move along.
The biggest celebration I saw was at work, where we had a pumpkin carving contest, decorations, and themed food (the nuclear green "witches brew" was pretty good). The stores are in full swing for Christmas. We'll see how that goes.
The biggest celebration I saw was at work, where we had a pumpkin carving contest, decorations, and themed food (the nuclear green "witches brew" was pretty good). The stores are in full swing for Christmas. We'll see how that goes.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
More catching up
It was supposed to be an early night. So much for that. We're past due for updates:
Biel: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Biel
Bern: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Bern
Geneva: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Geneva
Paris: le sigh.
Rothenburg (and some Fall color for your enjoyment): http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Rothenburg
Zurich, Oktober edition: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Zurich102008
Florence: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Firenze
Biel: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Biel
Bern: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Bern
Geneva: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Geneva
Paris: le sigh.
Rothenburg (and some Fall color for your enjoyment): http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Rothenburg
Zurich, Oktober edition: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Zurich102008
Florence: http://picasaweb.google.com/ctuttle/Firenze
Monday, October 20, 2008
Zurich in September.
Wow. Blogger sucks spectacularly at editing a list of photos with captions. This is embarrassing. Well, this is all you get for now.
ETH Zurich and nearby, as viewed from Lindenhof.
The Limmat at Night
Grossmunster
A view of the Limmat / Lake Zurich from the top of Grossmunster.
Same day, different angle. The beige building in the center with green shutters and an obscured window is where I live (on the 3rd floor).
Some street fair near Banhofstrasse
ETH Zurich and nearby, as viewed from Lindenhof.
The Limmat at Night
Grossmunster
A view of the Limmat / Lake Zurich from the top of Grossmunster.
Same day, different angle. The beige building in the center with green shutters and an obscured window is where I live (on the 3rd floor).
Some street fair near Banhofstrasse
Saturday, October 4, 2008
A night out.
This evening I arrived home with the intent of going out to have a drink and then returning home to do laundry. The latter was undoubtedly thwarted, so it seems only fitting to speak a bit about Zurich's bar scene.
Before I begin, let's talk briefly about my daily schedule. I work on a team that is split between Mountain View and Zurich. As you might expect, we meet occasionally, and due to the 9 hour time difference, I have a few nights a week (Tuesday and Thursday, as it turns out) that regularly have meetings starting at 7pm or later. This isn't a big deal, and it's quite common, judging by how it's often more difficult to find a 7pm room reservation with video conference equipment than it is to find one at 3pm.
But I digress. This evening was one of the late ones, and after speaking with the kind folk in Mountain View, I took off, leaving the office at around 8:30. As it's the second night since I've moved to my new place, and since I did not set up mail forwarding in time, I went by my previous residence to make sure there weren't any letters sitting near the mailboxes with my name on them. Having seen there were not, I went to the nearest tram stop to grab a #9, serendipitously picking up a string-tied pile of cardboard boxes on the way.*
The tram ride home was uneventful, except for a few long glances due to my pile of folded boxes. I took the opportunity to practice my German by reading a flier about some fair-like festivities that are currently happening.
Upon returning to my apartment and depositing my boxes, I decided to go out in my bobshopping shirt, which I had worn for most of the day. It is awesome, and I've been growing tired of pretending to be European.
I left my apartment and hoofed it over to Niederdorfstrasse to have a look at the night life at a few places I've previously visited. The cafe bar with the live music was looking pretty ok -- and I've yet to go there -- but it's also closest so I continued on my rounds to see what else was going on. The bar at Nachtflug was full, and it looked like the stand-next-to-a-table spaces were somewhat full, so it was pretty hopping, too. [At this point it was 9:15 or 9:30, so that's kinda to be expected.] I then headed over past the back of Nachtflug, passing CK First on the way to have a look. The bar there was empty, though all the tables were full. Moving up the hill I took a look at Corazon, one of my favorites, and while there was one remaining seat, the staff was the same, I was feeling the need for variety, so I decided against it. Instead, I headed to CK First.
The proprietor -- or at least the main bartender -- at CK First is quite friendly. Based on his accent, I suspect he's from South Africa. Either way, CK First has about a dozen tables for four and a nice, but small, bar area, and some pretty good outside seating. You show up, have a drink, munch on some cheese puffs and pretzels, and generally have a good time.
This evening I had a Falken -- a Swiss beer -- and sat down on one of the bar stools to watch the football match between AC Milan and Zurich.** I got to talking with Julian, who is from Austria, and I was eventually introduced to Simone, the girlfriend of the bartender (a student of Hotel Management. She also occasionally helps out at Cranberry, the gay bar next door), Milan (the only straight bartender next door), someone whose name I forgot (???), and Christine (friend of Simone).
Julian and I had a nice talk about living in various places, working, etc. We spoke about Thailand for a while, and he had some good suggestions about where to visit in Austria, for which I'm quite thankful. Likewise, Simone and I had a long talk about the brokenness of McDonalds and our general misunderstanding of how someone could spend 13 CHF for a value meal, especially when more than a couple nearby shops rock some 9 CHF doner kebab.
My original plan was to have a beer or two and then retire to my apartment for some hard-core laundry doing. As you might imagine, this failed. The generosity of ??? was experienced in the form of two rounds of Xuxu shots (think semi-frozen strawberry daiquiri, and you'll be in the right ballpark). This was joined by a third round of beers and a round of shots ordered by Julian, who had turned a little too friendly.
Now, I should stop here and mention Alice, the former tech lead of my project, who has recently returned to Mountain View in order to be married. In one of her how-to-be-an-expat emails, Alice mentioned the dating scene with the ominous, "It's different ... you'll see." Which is to say, my expectations are probably unrealistic. That said, I'm not sure Julian's eagerness to buy drinks or enumerate the days he's in the bar can be accounted for anything but unwanted advances.
I arrived home at 11:40 or so, took an inventory of my clothing, washed a pair of socks and boxers in the sink, and took a shower to wash off the smoke. Insofar as meeting people, I'd call it a successful evening. I'm also a big fan of CK First's very chill atmosphere, though I'll have to strategize for when I head there again.
(*) The cardboard made sleeping on a duvet on the floor about twice as comfortable.
(**) It was 0-0 when I arrived. AC Milan ended up winning 2-0.
Before I begin, let's talk briefly about my daily schedule. I work on a team that is split between Mountain View and Zurich. As you might expect, we meet occasionally, and due to the 9 hour time difference, I have a few nights a week (Tuesday and Thursday, as it turns out) that regularly have meetings starting at 7pm or later. This isn't a big deal, and it's quite common, judging by how it's often more difficult to find a 7pm room reservation with video conference equipment than it is to find one at 3pm.
But I digress. This evening was one of the late ones, and after speaking with the kind folk in Mountain View, I took off, leaving the office at around 8:30. As it's the second night since I've moved to my new place, and since I did not set up mail forwarding in time, I went by my previous residence to make sure there weren't any letters sitting near the mailboxes with my name on them. Having seen there were not, I went to the nearest tram stop to grab a #9, serendipitously picking up a string-tied pile of cardboard boxes on the way.*
The tram ride home was uneventful, except for a few long glances due to my pile of folded boxes. I took the opportunity to practice my German by reading a flier about some fair-like festivities that are currently happening.
Upon returning to my apartment and depositing my boxes, I decided to go out in my bobshopping shirt, which I had worn for most of the day. It is awesome, and I've been growing tired of pretending to be European.
I left my apartment and hoofed it over to Niederdorfstrasse to have a look at the night life at a few places I've previously visited. The cafe bar with the live music was looking pretty ok -- and I've yet to go there -- but it's also closest so I continued on my rounds to see what else was going on. The bar at Nachtflug was full, and it looked like the stand-next-to-a-table spaces were somewhat full, so it was pretty hopping, too. [At this point it was 9:15 or 9:30, so that's kinda to be expected.] I then headed over past the back of Nachtflug, passing CK First on the way to have a look. The bar there was empty, though all the tables were full. Moving up the hill I took a look at Corazon, one of my favorites, and while there was one remaining seat, the staff was the same, I was feeling the need for variety, so I decided against it. Instead, I headed to CK First.
The proprietor -- or at least the main bartender -- at CK First is quite friendly. Based on his accent, I suspect he's from South Africa. Either way, CK First has about a dozen tables for four and a nice, but small, bar area, and some pretty good outside seating. You show up, have a drink, munch on some cheese puffs and pretzels, and generally have a good time.
This evening I had a Falken -- a Swiss beer -- and sat down on one of the bar stools to watch the football match between AC Milan and Zurich.** I got to talking with Julian, who is from Austria, and I was eventually introduced to Simone, the girlfriend of the bartender (a student of Hotel Management. She also occasionally helps out at Cranberry, the gay bar next door), Milan (the only straight bartender next door), someone whose name I forgot (???), and Christine (friend of Simone).
Julian and I had a nice talk about living in various places, working, etc. We spoke about Thailand for a while, and he had some good suggestions about where to visit in Austria, for which I'm quite thankful. Likewise, Simone and I had a long talk about the brokenness of McDonalds and our general misunderstanding of how someone could spend 13 CHF for a value meal, especially when more than a couple nearby shops rock some 9 CHF doner kebab.
My original plan was to have a beer or two and then retire to my apartment for some hard-core laundry doing. As you might imagine, this failed. The generosity of ??? was experienced in the form of two rounds of Xuxu shots (think semi-frozen strawberry daiquiri, and you'll be in the right ballpark). This was joined by a third round of beers and a round of shots ordered by Julian, who had turned a little too friendly.
Now, I should stop here and mention Alice, the former tech lead of my project, who has recently returned to Mountain View in order to be married. In one of her how-to-be-an-expat emails, Alice mentioned the dating scene with the ominous, "It's different ... you'll see." Which is to say, my expectations are probably unrealistic. That said, I'm not sure Julian's eagerness to buy drinks or enumerate the days he's in the bar can be accounted for anything but unwanted advances.
I arrived home at 11:40 or so, took an inventory of my clothing, washed a pair of socks and boxers in the sink, and took a shower to wash off the smoke. Insofar as meeting people, I'd call it a successful evening. I'm also a big fan of CK First's very chill atmosphere, though I'll have to strategize for when I head there again.
(*) The cardboard made sleeping on a duvet on the floor about twice as comfortable.
(**) It was 0-0 when I arrived. AC Milan ended up winning 2-0.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Lausanne, Geneva, Biel, Bern
Lausanne is a nice town-and-a-half on a few steep hills. The old town is up top, and seaside Ouchy is below, the gap filled with largely nondescript but pleasant buildings and parks. A metro rail, which just opened, joins the two. It's a lovely place; I'm sure I'll go back to explore some more.
Likewise, Biel seemed pretty nice, all things considered. Judging by the map, the city is fairly small, and green hills rise rapidly at the borders. Looking down the streets, you see a nice juxtaposition of styles, majestic old buildings sidling up to glass and steel. But they are tasteful, and complemented by the canals and green space, the downtown feels balanced ... small but lively.
After arriving in Geneva I took a few minutes to turn on the GPS, wait for it to find itself, throw on some sunscreen, and take a photo of a city map. Having oriented myself, I headed down the hill towards the water.
A few blocks later, I noticed someone sitting on the sidewalk near a bed sheet with random household goods piled upon it. At first, I thought that the side street, which was blocked off, was being used by some local peddler taking advantage of a festival to offload some crap. There wasn't much interest -- only a few dozen people were in the street -- but I wanted to see why the road was closed, so I turned.
Next to the first sheet there was another, again filled with thrift store goodies, and another, and another, all the way down. Maybe everyone got the memo that festival side streets are good for vending?
Oh no. The entire "festival" is actually a yard sale. It's probably 12 square blocks, covering both sides of the streets, spilling into the parks, and even filling the spaces under playground slides with old clothes, as Timmy and Sarah (er ... Pierre and Marie) frolic above. Only food booths and the occasional performers could hold back the tide. It's something else.
Ah, and I left the best for last. God save you if you ever get stuck in downtown Bern.
Downtown Bern is a dreary, depressing, soulless city. By mandate all buildings are the same gray, blocky institution. Those familiar with California drainage channels would find similarity here, the tall rectangular faces broken up only by columns encroaching on the cobblestone roadway and the characteristic long eves, built to protect the very sandstone that likens the city to a storm drain. The town is in serious need of a designer. Instead, they have fountains.
Bern's quaint fountains, like little bows, gave the artists something to do after the reformation put them out of work. There's a bagpiper, lady justice, some bears dressed as knights, and even some more colorful ones, including a statue of an ogre, eating children.
My favorite fountain is a recent, modern addition, a piece of particular controversy amongst the Bernese. It's essentially a steel pipe a few feet across with a plate at the top. Water descends through channels attached like a screw to the outside of the pipe, spiraling down. These same channels also harbor dirt and moss, so now the top of the fountain has patches of grass and moss growing on it. It's awesome. I'm closer to posting pictures, but still not there yet.
Also, for those following along at home, it seems other people decided to go traveling this weekend, too. So Paris is the new Florence.
Likewise, Biel seemed pretty nice, all things considered. Judging by the map, the city is fairly small, and green hills rise rapidly at the borders. Looking down the streets, you see a nice juxtaposition of styles, majestic old buildings sidling up to glass and steel. But they are tasteful, and complemented by the canals and green space, the downtown feels balanced ... small but lively.
After arriving in Geneva I took a few minutes to turn on the GPS, wait for it to find itself, throw on some sunscreen, and take a photo of a city map. Having oriented myself, I headed down the hill towards the water.
A few blocks later, I noticed someone sitting on the sidewalk near a bed sheet with random household goods piled upon it. At first, I thought that the side street, which was blocked off, was being used by some local peddler taking advantage of a festival to offload some crap. There wasn't much interest -- only a few dozen people were in the street -- but I wanted to see why the road was closed, so I turned.
Next to the first sheet there was another, again filled with thrift store goodies, and another, and another, all the way down. Maybe everyone got the memo that festival side streets are good for vending?
Oh no. The entire "festival" is actually a yard sale. It's probably 12 square blocks, covering both sides of the streets, spilling into the parks, and even filling the spaces under playground slides with old clothes, as Timmy and Sarah (er ... Pierre and Marie) frolic above. Only food booths and the occasional performers could hold back the tide. It's something else.
Ah, and I left the best for last. God save you if you ever get stuck in downtown Bern.
Downtown Bern is a dreary, depressing, soulless city. By mandate all buildings are the same gray, blocky institution. Those familiar with California drainage channels would find similarity here, the tall rectangular faces broken up only by columns encroaching on the cobblestone roadway and the characteristic long eves, built to protect the very sandstone that likens the city to a storm drain. The town is in serious need of a designer. Instead, they have fountains.
Bern's quaint fountains, like little bows, gave the artists something to do after the reformation put them out of work. There's a bagpiper, lady justice, some bears dressed as knights, and even some more colorful ones, including a statue of an ogre, eating children.
My favorite fountain is a recent, modern addition, a piece of particular controversy amongst the Bernese. It's essentially a steel pipe a few feet across with a plate at the top. Water descends through channels attached like a screw to the outside of the pipe, spiraling down. These same channels also harbor dirt and moss, so now the top of the fountain has patches of grass and moss growing on it. It's awesome. I'm closer to posting pictures, but still not there yet.
Also, for those following along at home, it seems other people decided to go traveling this weekend, too. So Paris is the new Florence.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
That's how I roll.
This weekend, I took a spin around Switzerland. The trip was a great success, but not without it's transportation and other mishaps, which tend to happen when you don't plan at all. So here's what happened on Saturday. Pictures and more notes will follow.
Monday / Tuesday: After last weekend's transportation failures, resolve to leave Zurich for the 19th/20th.
Wednesday: Met Renee, a bald dude from Amsterdam, at the Wednesday meetup. His favorite city in Germany is Munich, which also happens to be close. Bonus.
Thursday: Lengthy reading of travel books and viewing of train schedules. Florence, Berlin, Paris, and Munich are on the not-Switzerland list, Lausanne, Geneva, and small nearby towns (e.g. Zug) are on the local list. Having waited this long, chances of a TGV ticket are small, and overnight tickets would be difficult, since I have to do laundry on Friday morning, and getting those reservations relies on going to Zurich HB (Hauptbahnhof / main station), which would probably take an hour.
So, Munich? Nope -- Oktoberfest starts this weekend! This is awesome, but there are no vacancies. Also, I suspect Oktoberfest is a festival best shared. Next year. I go to bed thinking about Lake Geneva.
Friday: Up early, doing laundry and working from home. In between, I give a hostel in Lausanne a call, thinking I could stay two nights and do some day trips. "I'm sorry, all hotels in Lausanne are fully booked." Fascinating. Oh well, time to go to work.
I take off from work around 6, ready to try out my crazy new online banking card and to make some real travel plans. What about ... Bern? It's in the book. 1 hour away by train, online reservations, done. Bern on Saturday. In fact, I go so far as to scribble the following "Itinerary of awesome" on the back of an envelope:
0) Rock out in Zurich Friday Night
1) Lausanne 6:00 train (~2h)
2) Rock out in Lausanne.
3) Lausanne -> Bern train (~1h)
4) Hostel in Bern.
5) Check out Bern & Environs (a.m.)
6) Geneva for festival (1h?)
7) Check out Geneva PM.
8) Geneva -> Zurich train (3h) Late.
See? That's organized.
Now that's done, time to walk off the day. I run some errands, hoof it around town for a spell and check out a few places, and make it back early (9 ish). Then I whittle away 3 hours, and crash at around midnight. By this point, I had copied down copius train schedules between Geneva, Bern, and Lausanne in my pocket notebook, enough to ensure I wouldn't miss the last train and could also visit those cities in any order. I'd also selected my departure train, a 6:04 to Lausanne through Biel / Bienne, and observed I could get to Zurich HB on time by taking the 05:41 S2 from Wiedikon.
I think Saturday is best described as a timeline. So here we go.
By comparison, Sunday was much less surprising. I checked out Bern in the morning (more on that later), headed over to Geneva in the afternoon, and took an evening train back to Zurich. I'll have more once my camera recharges and I get some sleep.
Monday / Tuesday: After last weekend's transportation failures, resolve to leave Zurich for the 19th/20th.
Wednesday: Met Renee, a bald dude from Amsterdam, at the Wednesday meetup. His favorite city in Germany is Munich, which also happens to be close. Bonus.
Thursday: Lengthy reading of travel books and viewing of train schedules. Florence, Berlin, Paris, and Munich are on the not-Switzerland list, Lausanne, Geneva, and small nearby towns (e.g. Zug) are on the local list. Having waited this long, chances of a TGV ticket are small, and overnight tickets would be difficult, since I have to do laundry on Friday morning, and getting those reservations relies on going to Zurich HB (Hauptbahnhof / main station), which would probably take an hour.
So, Munich? Nope -- Oktoberfest starts this weekend! This is awesome, but there are no vacancies. Also, I suspect Oktoberfest is a festival best shared. Next year. I go to bed thinking about Lake Geneva.
Friday: Up early, doing laundry and working from home. In between, I give a hostel in Lausanne a call, thinking I could stay two nights and do some day trips. "I'm sorry, all hotels in Lausanne are fully booked." Fascinating. Oh well, time to go to work.
I take off from work around 6, ready to try out my crazy new online banking card and to make some real travel plans. What about ... Bern? It's in the book. 1 hour away by train, online reservations, done. Bern on Saturday. In fact, I go so far as to scribble the following "Itinerary of awesome" on the back of an envelope:
0) Rock out in Zurich Friday Night
1) Lausanne 6:00 train (~2h)
2) Rock out in Lausanne.
3) Lausanne -> Bern train (~1h)
4) Hostel in Bern.
5) Check out Bern & Environs (a.m.)
6) Geneva for festival (1h?)
7) Check out Geneva PM.
8) Geneva -> Zurich train (3h) Late.
See? That's organized.
Now that's done, time to walk off the day. I run some errands, hoof it around town for a spell and check out a few places, and make it back early (9 ish). Then I whittle away 3 hours, and crash at around midnight. By this point, I had copied down copius train schedules between Geneva, Bern, and Lausanne in my pocket notebook, enough to ensure I wouldn't miss the last train and could also visit those cities in any order. I'd also selected my departure train, a 6:04 to Lausanne through Biel / Bienne, and observed I could get to Zurich HB on time by taking the 05:41 S2 from Wiedikon.
I think Saturday is best described as a timeline. So here we go.
- 05:15: Awaken. Get dressed. Dilly-dally a bit, thinking that I needed to leave at 05:46.
- 05:41: Leave the apartment.
- 05:42: Curse, realizing that 05:46 is actually the arrival time of the S2 at Zurich HB. Start walking briskly to the nearest tram stop.
- 05:46: Arrive at tram stop. Observe an 05:50 #9 and a 05:56 #14. Lament that the #9 doesn't go to Zurich HB and the #14 won't make it in time. Ponder.
- 05:47: Start walking briskly to Bahnhof Wiedikon.
- 05:51: Arrival at Wiedikon. Lament that the next train departs at 06:16. Exit Wiedikon to see the arrival of the #9. Board.
- 05:53: Transfer to a #3 at Stauffacher. While on the #3, decide that I'll just take the next Lausanne-bound train, which leaves at 06:30-something.
- 06:00: Arrive at Zurich HB. Become sad that all the effort writing down the train numbers in the book was for naught, as the magic flippy board doesn't include them. Moreover, there are two trains leaving at 06:04 in the same direction. Choose wisely.
- 06:04: Both trains leave Zurich HB. I'm on the correct one.
- 06:4x: The smell of magic smoke fills the air. A minute later, train slows to a halt. We sit for a spell, and then go.
- 07:0x: At the following intermediate stop, we hang out for a few minutes while the train is repaired. I remove my map to see that the line through Biel is not the same as the one through Bern.
- 07:30: Arrive 17 minutes late into Biel, having missed my 07:16 connection.
- 07:35: Walk around Biel, which is pretty empty at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Enjoy a cappuccino and a croissant.
- 08:16: Resume Lausanne-wards.
- 09:15: Arrive in Lausanne. Buy an OJ and some AAs for the GPS. Snub the metro busses and hike up the hill to old town. Pull out Switzerland Through the Back Door and start walking the One True Path of Rick.
- 10:45: Taking a break from the orientation walk, hang out in a plaza near the Cathedral.
- 11:00: City History Museum opens, and I check it out.
- 11:50: Done with the museum. Finish the orientation walk.
- 12:00: Stumble upon a street market and a bunch of people looking at a cuckoo clock built into the front of the building. Observe the cuckoo clock display. Frown in disappointment. Check out the street market, the M2 concert festival sound check ("hey hey un deux un deux yesssss yesssss"). Have some pretty good doner kebab at Traiteur Bosphore.
- 12:59: Take a Ouchy-bound Metro train after having waited 15 minutes on a pink carpet. Rejoice that I can participate in opening-weekend festivites for the Metro without having suffered through its construction.
- 13:15: Arrive Ouchy. Wander about. Head over to the Olympic Museum, which turns out to be awesome.
- 15:15: Finished with the museum. Next stop: Chateau de Chillon. Wander back to the center of town, pondering whether to fight the line to take a metro back up. Decide not to. Start climbing.
- 15:30: Arrive Lausanne bahnhof. Based on departure board, decide to take a local train. (Versus an express train to Montreux, followed by a bus.)
- 15:33: Depart Lausanne on a local train bound for Villeneuve.
- 16:00: Arrive Montreux, right on schedule. Observe Chateau de Chillon is the following stop; stay on train.
- 16:03: Pass Chateau de Chillon at high speed. Curse.
- 16:05: Arrive at Villeneuve.
- 16:06: Observe map, noting that the S3 local train skips Chillon, and the S1 does not. Observe next departure is s1 at 1624. Mill about for ten minutes to decide whether to walk or train. Spend several minutes messing with the GPS to find out how far the walk would be.
- 16:15: Realize it's faster to wait. Take some pictures and board the train.
- 16:24: Depart Villeneuve.
- 16:26: Arrive Chateau de Chillon.
- 16:30 - 17:30: Tour Chateau.
- 17:52: Board bus 1 to Montreux. Grow uncomfortable as unsympathetic locals direct me to the ticket machine at the rear of the bus. More long glances as I drop a coin.
- 18:00: Arrive downtown Montreux. Walk around for a bit.
- 18:19: Depart Montreux to Bern, transferring at Lausanne.
- 19:56: Arrive Bern.
- 20:20: Check in to Backpackers Hotel Glocke. Notice that it's awesome. Clean up.
- 20:55: Arrive at Restaurant Vatter, recommended by the Good Book. Notice it closes at 5 P.M., not 11 P.M. Rick Steves: You're on notice.
- 21:00: Dinner at a nearby Italian place, instead. The charming Hungarian waitress speaks 4 languages and makes a strong spritz. The Calzone Italia actually looks like a pizza with just the side rolled up, and curiously all the toppings (spinach, tomatoes, salami, olives, and some cheese) are kept separate. It's tasty, though.
- 22:00: Tour through town.
- 23:00: Crash.
By comparison, Sunday was much less surprising. I checked out Bern in the morning (more on that later), headed over to Geneva in the afternoon, and took an evening train back to Zurich. I'll have more once my camera recharges and I get some sleep.
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