Blog

Seeing that the weekend was over, and that Mark and Susi were back to work as usual, today it was up to me to keep myself occupied in Zürich. I didn't particularly have any sights left to see in the city: however, since my new ATM card is being sent here by courier (after I lost it), and since it hasn't yet arrived, I basically have to stay here and wait for it. So today, I decided to explore the city on my own a little bit. Sadly, my effort to go and visit both the Science Museum and the Kunsthaus (art gallery) were thwarted (not open on Monday — apparently, this is common for museums in Europe); however, I did find a nice coffee shop in the technical university, with nice cheap hot choc (and a heated interior, away from the bitter Zürich cold) inside. Plus, I saw a bit more of the city than I'd bargained on encountering.

I lost many valuable items when I got robbed on the train last week. One item that I particularly missed was my Wenger Swiss Army knife, which uncle Mark brought me as a present, on his last visit to Sydney 7 years ago. When Mark heard about the loss of the knife, he insisted on remedying the situation, and on doing what all good Swiss uncles with Aussie nephews do: he bought me yet another army knife. This time, a Victorinox, and one of the fancier and more full-featured models. Hopefully I'll get many years of good use out of this baby, just as I did out of the previous one.

When uncle Mark and I visited the Tinguely museum in Basel today, we saw some extraordinary mechanical artwork in action. The largest of Tinguely's machines, in particular, was quite a sight to behold. Check out the video.

For something completely different, today uncle Mark took me on a little excursion out of Zürich, west to the city of Basel, in order to visit the unique and fascinating Tinguely museum. And to see the special exhibit that was on there. And for a nice lunch. And just to see beautiful Basel. Susi couldn't make it — she had something else on for most of the day — but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless.

No visit to Zürich would be complete without a visit to its most famous chocolate shop, the Sprüngli. And Mark and Susi would never let my visit go incomplete: so naturally, this afternoon we popped in to the establishment, for an experience of true and utter decadence. The highlight of the visit was the Luxemburgerli: divine little "buttons" of chocolate, best eaten fresh (i.e. within 24 hours of them being made), and filled with all manner of artery-clogging richness. Also incredible were the Truffles: each of these balls of chocolate comes in a variety from milky-white to dark brown, and is variously filled with rum, cream and liquid chocolate. The truffles kept me nourished for well over a week after.

Ask any German, and he/she will tell you that food doesn't get more Deutsch than Bratwurst. But ask my uncle Mark, and he'll tell you that the Swiss variety of the famous European sausage is even bigger and even better. I can't yet compare; but so far, the Swiss one has been pretty good. At the famous Berghaus-Keller restaurant in central Zürich, they cook up a mean veal bratwurst, served hot and fresh with a delicious helping of kartoffel-rösti on the side (baked mash potato). Also goes well with a nice big Swiss beer (my first ever).

After six weeks of backpacking around Europe, this afternoon I arrived in the lovely Swiss city of Zürich (on the Cisalpino express train), to have a small "holiday from the holiday", and to spend some time with my family here. I got a lovely warm welcome: I stepped off the train, and there was my uncle Mark, standing right there on the platform, and wearing an unmissable Akubra hat so I could spot him! Mark drove me over to his plush dental practice, where he showed me around the establishment; then we were joined by Susi, and the three of us returned to their apartment, for a delicious home-cooked welcome dinner, and a long (and long-overdue) catch-up chat. Looks like I'm going to get very spoilt here, and that I'm going to have a fun and relaxing time in Zürich as well.

Although he grew up just like me, in Sydney Australia, my mum's brother Mark hasn't lived there for more than 25 years, since he wandered off around the world, met his Swiss-dwelling wife Susi, and became a qualified dentist. My uncle Mark and auntie Susi have now lived in Zürich for over 10 years. This is the first time I've been to visit them, and also the first time I've seen them, since they last visited Sydney about 7 years ago. It was very nice to see them again, after all these years, and to enjoy their hospitality while here in Switzerland.

On the train to Zürich today, it wasn't until I was less than an hour from my destination (and hence well inside the German part of Switzerland), that I noticed that the overwhelming majority of my fellow passengers were speaking in German. And it was only then that a scary realisation dawned on me, and hit me rather unexpectedly: this is my first time in the German-speaking world! And guess what: my German absolutely sucks! The last time I studied German, it was nearly 10 years ago, and I was too busy throwing paper aeroplanes around the room to have paid attention to the teacher. So apart from counting to 100 and saying a few basic words, I basically can't speak a word of the language. This is the first time on this trip (and in my life), that I've been in a country where I can't even begin to guess what people are saying around me, in the official language of their land. And it's really quite scary. Ach shizer!

Exactly one month after arriving in Italy, today I said goodbye to this crazy but lovable country, and headed north to the colder, more efficient, not-quite-as-fun world of Central Europe. Once again, I had to battle with my dear friends at TrenI-frikking-talia in order to get anywhere — boy, will I be glad to see the back of them — but even in the face of a nationwide train strike today, I managed to cross the border, to cruise through the majestic snow-covered peaks and still lakes of the Swiss Alps, and to reach my uncle and aunt in Zürich by the afternoon. Italy, it's been a pazzo four-and-a-half weeks, but I'm afraid it's time to say "ciao baby".