The Fatherland

I occasionally find the smell of cow shit welcoming. Now, if I had a choice between manure and pies or cow excrement and dryer sheets, I would choose the latter in both cases. I'm not entirely deranged. Maybe it has to do with some of my favorite people living in places that are often rife with the odor of methane, but as I rode through Switzerland with my family and the faint whiff of farming feces would drift by, I found myself, though I wouldn't say filling my lungs with the pungent smell, at least letting the scent tickle through me.

I began my adventures in the fatherland, very early Wednesday morning without any traces of cow smell in the air. My night bus pulled into Zurich at five in the morning. I was somewhat alert despite being kept awake for the last hour of the ride by two passengers behind me who thought it was a good time to have a conversation in Slovak. I disagreed. After an hour of passive aggressively moaning at the people behind me, I got off the bus in an empty Zurich.

Early morning confirmation that I was, in fact, in Switzerland

After wandering around for a few hours waiting for things to open, I stumbled into a Starbucks for the free wifi and an extremely expensive hot chocolate. Normally, my visiting such a place would not be of note. Certainly there are things to be said about my half successful attempts at Swiss German. I shall not say them. Instead I will focus on the fact that when I told them my name was Jes so they could write it on my cup, I was later handed a hot chocolate with a Jes with only one s. I gave them no indication of how I spell my name. The Swiss just get me, man.

The rest of the day included a visit to the Landesmuseum, which is the Swiss National Museum, and a bit of a tour of the city from my cousin, the filmmaking monk. At the end of day, he took me to the train station so I could make my way to Ruswil, where I was staying with my aunt and uncle. Armed with mental images of the maps my uncle had sent me, I arrived in Ruswil without much difficulty. With a belly full of raclette, I gratefully fell into bed to catch up on sleep after my night bus adventures.

The next day, I went to Luzern with my aunt and uncle. We wandered around the old city, went to an old church, and had a snack on a cafe/boat called with Wilhelm Tell. We also went to see the Lion of Luzern, which I distinctly remember being very excited to see when I went Switzerland when I was twelve.

As almost anything one reads about the lion will tell you, Mark Twain described my dear lion friend as "the most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world." Unfortunately, Twain wrote that in A Tramp Abroad and not in Innocents Abroad, which I have to read for one of my classes. This sad fact means I likely can't use the lion to sidetrack us from discussion. Pshaw!

My final day in Switzerland, we went to Bern. I had a visit with some more of my family that spoke English, with the exception of my cousin's ten month old son, who could not speak. I am not usually a fan of the midgets, what with their crying and pooping and generally not being as in control of themselves as cats while still being less cute, but I will concede that my cousin's kid was actually pretty cute. Not like my cat, or anything, but okay.

After a lunch of Alpen Macaroni, which is one of my all time favorites, I went into Bern with my aunt and uncle. We went to the parliament building and then went to hang out with the bears. By which I mean we watched them romp in their hillside enclosure. Stephen Colbert has taught me of the dangers of bears, no matter what my mother thinks about how cute they are.

Saturday morning I flew back to London from Switzerland with probably more chocolate than I should have. Fun fact: the Swiss eat more chocolate per capita than any other peoples. So really, the lumps of chocolate I just consumed while writing this was just me doing my part for the fatherland.