Beast

Saturday held high expectations; a lot had to be done. Last Wednesday afternoon, I got home to find that my bike, Lester's bike, had been stolen. It was taken from outside the flat, from the same post to which it had always been locked. The problem was twofold: I had lost Lester's bike and also had no bike to use, the latter actually more distressing than the former. Luckily, the traveling bike market that visits different areas throughout the year was due just down the street from my flat on Saturday. I had originally planned to leave early in the morning for a hiking trip, but I knew that getting a replacement bike was critical, so I altered my plans.

So Saturday had to work like this: wake up, shower, eat, go find a new bike, stop at the grocery store for hiking foodstuffs, go home, pack, and arrive at the train station--all of that by 10;39, 11;39 at the absolute latest. I did find a bike, a blue Cilo racing bike that was 160 chf, a price that seemed the norm for the kind of bike Lester had. I rode it home and stored it safely in my room with no time to enjoy or even further examine the purchase. This weekend was to be about hiking. I went to Pilatus the previous weekend, but I only did about three hours of actual hiking, and it was pretty tame, mostly gradual incline. I really wanted to take it to the next level this time around, so I chose an ambitious two day route through the Alpstein region, which is east of Zurich by about 2.5 hours.

Stefan had helped me plan my trip, which was based around the middle point of the hike at the Alpine hut where I would stay on Saturday night (more on that to come). So, after the hectic preparations and stressful packing, as I had never really packed for a hiking trip before, I arrived at the train station for my trip to Bralisau, the town at the base of Hoher Kasten, the first peak I would climb on the trip. The train ride was marked by ominous clouds that seemed to be following the route I was taking from Zurich to the mountains. Right when I arrived in Weissbad the rain had become strong enough to keep the dozen or so fellow hikers huddled under the protection of the platform. It was in that 5 minutes of downpour and hesitation that I missed the hourly connecting bus to Bralisau, which left me about an hour walk from the trail head. It was already 2 pm, and I had no idea how long my hike would actually take despite the rough estimate of about 4.5 hours, which did not include the missed bus, so I was anxious, especially with the iffy weather. So instead of waiting around for the bus, I trekked off through a riverside trail to Bralisau, arriving about 2 minutes before the bus that I could have waited for. I felt fine then and was still getting used to the added weight of the pack, but about half way up Hoher Kasten I wondered whether or not adding an extra 3 km of walking before the climb was a good idea.

Up to Hoher Kasten

The weather seemed to change every ten minutes, with bright sunlight fading quickly to dark, ominous shade. The hike began with a gentle climb along a well marked trail and soon narrowed and became much steeper, winding up the face of the Hoher Kasten. It wasn't too challenging terrain wise, but it was tiring. I still had not gotten used to carrying the pack, so with the added incline it was a tough beginning. It took about 2 hours to get up the summit at 1780 m, about 1000 m above where I began. I had a quick lunch while enjoying the view before consulting a chef at the summit cafe about the rest of my route. He suggested a slightly altered plan for my original because it was already 5 pm, and I had a long way to go before arrival at the mountain hut. It was drizzling at that point and the weather looked to worsen, so I reluctantly decided to go with the more conservative route not wanting to do anything to jeopardize Sunday, which I knew would hold the best part of the trip.

Taken from the peak of Hoher Kasten. I would make it to down to Bollenwees that night, and then to Altmann, and eventually Santis, on Sunday

Right as I began the hike down to the base of the valley, the drizzle changed to serious rain. Not even 5 minutes after finishing my break at the top, I had to break again to change gear for the weather. I hiked down the difficult trail and by the time the trail started to level out, the rain subsided. The remainder of the hike to Bollenwees, the location of the mountain hut, was through a valley in between two ridgelines. The trail varied in steepness and was peppered with cows all along the way that I assume belonged to the handful of farmhouses that called this massive landscape home. At one point, I had to really go out of my way through some thick forest to get around a group of about 7 of the guys who looked to be enjoying the thin but flat trail as a spot to relax. From the moment I left Hoher Kasten to about 10 minutes before Bollenwees I was completely alone for that 3 hour stretch. It was eerie but a lot of fun at the same time. Its exhilarating to not know exactly where your destination is, not know how long it will take to get there, and not know if the weather or the light will stay favorable for the rest of the hike. Luckily, the Swiss hiking trails are marked better than Italian roads, so I knew I'd get there at some point, even if it was late. Shockingly, I had even remembered first to pack a headlamp when I left Philadelphia and more impressively had remembered again to bring it along for the hike, so at least I had that.

The trail leveled out and after two farms I finally arrived at Berggasthaus Bollenwees around 7.45. The hut/inn was bustling with hikers, most of whom already enjoying a traditional Swiss mountain dinner with an Alpine brewed beer. I walked in and somehow from my appearance they knew my name before I even uttered a word. In hiking gear I don’t really know how one looks American, because honestly hiking attire is pretty universal, so I’m hoping it was because I was alone and from the looks of things most parties came in larger groups. I had reserved one bed the night before. They took me first to the Trailroom where there were about 75 pairs of boots and various hiking clothes hanging to dry. I followed suit, leaving my boots, socks, and first layer to dry. They then took me up to the bunks, which were exactly what you want after a long day’s hiking; dry, comfortable, and cheap.

Alpine fuel

I went downstairs to the restaurant area and ended up enjoying a fantastic and hearty Swiss traditional meal alongside three Germans who were doing a similar trip to mine. We talked about the trails and a little bit about life in general before they retired and I sat with some tea and recorded the day’s events in my notes. Two strong beers and a day of hiking was plenty to send me to bed at 10.30. I got an alright night’s sleep and woke up kind of tired but ready to go on Sunday.

The view from breakfast

The quads burned like never before on Sunday morning, so I was forced to stretch everything out before even brushing my teeth. I knew that the meat of the hiking was yet to come, but at that point had no idea that it would make Saturday look like a walk in a Central Park. I scarfed down the nasty free breakfast that came with the room and then made myself three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from packed in supplies before setting off for the second leg.

Looking back after the first 90 minutes on Sunday;I began on the opposite side of the lake at the waterside mountain hut

Panoramic 1: on the scree during the 3 hour alone time after Bollenwees

[You can click on all the pictures, but be sure to click on the ones that say panoramic, as they are wide pics spliced together from 4-5. Much easier to see zoomed in]

Sunday turned out to be just one of those epic days that you know you’ll never be able to truly explain to anyone, ever. Pictures will fail to grasp the perspective, depth, and vastness of it all, and words are don’t speak mountain. So rather than try to explain the landscape, I’ll go with the excitement, fear, and unease that was almost paralyzing. I won’t go as far to say that I did anything special by Swiss standards or by hiking standards for that matter; there were other people along the trail—old, young, weak, strong—but you could tell that this was their backyard. I had basically 2 days of “hiking” experience to that point, one of those days being the previous day, and I was completely out of my element.

Leaving Bollenwees began by walking around the adjacent lake at the end of which began a slow climb to the first of a few short rolling hills. The trail was already steeper than Hoher Kasten, and I wasn’t even doing anything yet .Sucking wind after an hour, I carried on, climbing constantly with every step. By 10.00 am, I was completely alone, hiking along the scree (small rocks leading up to mountain) of one of the ridge lines in the valley. The trail became obscured by high grass that interrupted the rocks every few meters, and was becoming extremely steep. I spent plenty of time climbing on all fours up what felt like completely vertical sections, with little foot holes bored into the trail by years of hikers. I hadn’t really been scared of anything up until that point. I don’t know if I’m scared of heights; I don’ think so, but it was on that approaching climb that fear entered the picture. A slip or a misguided step resulting in any kind of fall could be very dangerous. The gap between my location and level ground was widening rapidly. To one side was the face of the ridge and to the other a fall that would certainly be unstoppable down rocky, dreadful terrain. There was a trail but it was at most 2 ft wide, enough to manage walking but insufficient to support any blunder of step.

Actual doom

Little did I know that I had not seen anything yet even worthy of “scary”. I was still surrounded 360 degrees by mountains at eye level, and only on one side was there a fatal slide to be had. The first omen of actual fright came about along in the form of a crevice about 3 ft wide and 15 ft long, a gaping black hole hiding amidst the grass and rocks. I stopped to look down, hunched on all fours barely sticking my nose over the edge. Endless darkness. I was alone and had been for about 2 hours at that point, and nothingness was everywhere. Granted, you would have to really want to fall in the hole to do so, but if for any reason you did, game over. I had no idea how deep it was, but if you survived the fall you’d be in for an even worse fate.

On a tiny flat section en route to Altmann, with Santis, my final destination, in the background

Panoramic 2: view from tiny flat section

The hike continued and as I got higher the view got even more impressive. My uneasiness was balanced by an urge to get higher because I knew the whole Alpstein area would open up to view with more altitude. My goal was to climb two mountains that day: Altmanns* (2412 m) and Santis (2520). As I finished the climb out of the valley, I had already reached about 2000 m, and both peaks came into view. I got to a grassy patch on the ridge line that marked the top point of that trail, from which you could reach altmanns. As I looked up and followed the trail, I actually thought that it would be unwise to proceed. It was the only way to Santis and my route home, but I considered returning back the other way and completely changing plans because the next leg looked too dangerous to me. Luckily, at that point, a Swiss guy was on his way up and I stopped and asked him for some suggestions. He assured me that it would be alright pending careful steps and close attention, and he agreed to lead the way. My apprehension was not unwarranted. The scariest part by far was the 5 meter stretch across a patch of snow that was at about a 45 degree angle. I did slip once but luckily did not lose balance. A slide would have resulted in serious injury at best. Once we reached the saddle, I was really proud to have finished that section. I can’t think of the last time I’ve felt proud of myself in the moment; usually that feeling comes in retrospect, but it was with me live on the saddle. Again, by normal hiking standards, maybe it was nothing special, but holy hell was it special for me.

On the saddle by Altmann. The guy gives it some scale; he was about 15 feet away from me.

Panoramic 3; view from the saddle

At that point I had reached one of the mountain summits of the two I wanted to complete that day. It was about 1 pm and my plan was to eat lunch at a post in between the two peaks at a place called Rotsteinpass. In order to get there, I had to descend back to 2100 m, which felt like a straight drop from the saddle as I looked down. The truth wasn’t far from that. The hike down was aided by permanent ropes attached along the rock face, without which it would not be possible without rock climbing equipment. The trail was narrow frightening, but with careful attention to each step it was doable. Its bad enough that you’re basically going straight down.

Panoramic 4; on the way to the Altmann descent. Check out the people on the right hand side. They give it some scale.

Descent to Rotsteinpass: Straight Down Part 1

Descent to Rotsteinpass (hut): Straight Down Part 2

It’s the fact that you’re doing this at 2200 m that’s the real issue. So, when that was over, lunch at Rotsteinpass was much deserved. I knew that I had gotten through the most difficult part of the day; the approach to Santis, the highest peak in the region, would be physically tiring, but I doubted would rival the snow and fear of the Altmann approach and descent.

After recharging with more cheese, bread, peanut butter and jelly, I rested in the combination the warm sun and cool breeze. The combination was perfect for a short nap, a chance to stretch out and enjoy the scenery without worrying about the stability of my next step. At 2, I left Rotsteinpass for Santis, which was just a fantastic 1.5 hour hike. It actually had its fair share of unexpected scary moments, but ultimately offered some of the best views of the weekend.

En route to Santis. I stopped to say hi to that guy. I guess he took it to the next level by chilling there, but he was sitting on the trail, so thats where everyone goes.

On the tiny ledge leading to Santis. You can't see it here, but my back is against a the side of the trail for a reason

When I finally reached the summit of Santis, which regrettably has a tourist center there complete with restaurant and hotel, I was exhausted but stoked about what I had done. From there, I could trace parts of my hike from afar, and it was incredible to see how far I had come. I also had a great view of the entire Swiss Alps to the south, including the mountain that I skied a year and a half ago. Granted, I needed the help of a map, but it was there. I sat at the café and enjoyed a much deserved Appenzell beer, basking in my immediate surroundings and the fact that I was in one piece with an amazing mountain experience under my belt.

Panoramic 5; view from the last stop

The beer at the end of the beast

On Saturday I started at 700 m in Weissbad, hiked up to 1780 m at Hoher Kasten, then back down to 1400 m to the Bollenwees hut. On Sunday I began at that 1400 m, hiked up to 2400 m, back down to 2100, and finished at 2500 m. All in all, a total of about 2500 m of ascent and 700 m of descent over the course of 22 km.

Switzerland does mountains.

Happenings

Luzern

I thought that the chapter system would be the best way to catalog Zurich, but as it turns out there is a bit too much repetition during the week to warrant such a technique, so it looks like I'll write more often about specific outstanding events as opposed to the daily things that have settled down into a routine with work. I will post something about what is going on at the office, but for now there have been a couple of highlights of late that are worth talking about.

But first, there is one part of the routine that is exciting. After work has been an opportunity to go to the Letten, which is the swimming spot along the river that runs through Zurich. Its a popular place in the city where it seems like everyone goes after work for a swim, drinks, and bbq. Its a really unique scene, a strange mix of urban and what I used to consider a strictly non-urban activity. The river through Zurich has a relatively strong current. If you swim against it at about 75% effort, you can remain in a the same spot for a bit, but it quickly becomes a workout to avoid drifting backwards. Everytime I get in the water I try to increase the amount of time I fight against the current, but the temptation to let it carry you down the river towards the swim platforms usually gets the better of me pretty quickly. Beside the platforms and the area where people lay in the sun there are two beach volleyball courts where you can find plenty of macho Swiss guys who are under the impression that there is a crowd of about 1000 people watching their remarkable athleticism. In reality, its only guys like me, who get there and wait the long wait for a slot in the courts. My roommate Stefan and I usually play 1 or 2 games and intersperse a swim or two in between during the waits. It stays light out in Zurich until about 10 pm, so frequently we'll be there until 9.15 before heading back home.

The ride back is on bike, which is the preferred method of transit for so many Zurchers. The drivers here are used to the presence of bikers, and I would say that I feel pretty safe going along the streets. There are plenty of bike lanes and a lot of times the routes that I take are on streets where there are few cars. Its certainly no more intense than biking through NYC. So when the weather is nice, I rush home from work, change into my trunks, and bike to the Letten. We get our spot in the lineup for volleyball and walk back upriver to the bridge, where you jump off and begin the 10 minute float. Then volleyball, another swim, and home. Its a great way to spend the evenings. The only holdup has been the unreliable weather that has prevented us from going as frequently as we would like.

Montreaux Jazz

This weekend had two highlights: The Montreaux Jazz Festival and a day hike to a mountain near Luzern called Pilatus. On Friday afternoon, Amanda's friend Luis who lives in Zurich and also studies architecture at the ETH called me saying that he had a spare ticket to the festival that night. I left work a bit early and got home just in time for a quick change and a snack. We began the 2 hour drive to Montreaux around 7 and ended up missing about an hour of the first show, but we caught 4 great tunes performed by the Swedish ACT All Stars, a collection of Swedish jazz musicians that I think are part of the recording label ACT. That night, they were lead by trombonist Nils Lungred, a fixture of the ACT All stars. The few tunes we saw were awesome and ended up being an important foil to the next show that we saw that night. The Swedish All Stars played a mix of contemporary feels but the connection to the jazz attitude could be found in each part. As I said, their music provided perfect contrast to the more hard rock and funk oriented wailing of guitar great Jeff Beck, who played with Vinnie Colaiuta, one of the biggest names in the drum world. What a treat; I had no idea that Vinnie would be playing the show, so when I walked in and saw his unmistakable setup I knew that I was in for a great drumming spectacle. They also had a girl bass player who stood about 5 feet tall and looked to be 17 years old. She was amazing; to play with the guys who were on stage with her is unthinkable--totally paralyzing, but she held her own and grooved on with impressive ease amidst the substantial virtuosity around her.

Swedish Allstars

The show was really a rock concert with funk and fusion inflections thrown in, mostly by the drummer, and I don't think Ive ever head-banged along with rock junkies at a concert as much as I did to Jeff Becks seriously epic electric guitar. At the same time, I also kept asking myself "this is a jazz festival...the famous and storied Montreaux Jazz Festival?". The knowledge that Prince was upstairs headlining the final weekend show in the main theater only added to the wonder. But I was hearing Jeff Beck in "Miles Davis Hall", so I soon realized that I was asking myself a dumb question. After the show we checked out the two clubs that come alive in the AM hours at Montreaux, which have a combination of DJs and live music and are free to all to enter. The atmosphere around the festival was easy going and lighthearted; even the overcool euro-dudes seemed pretty smiley, which was a shocker. I've found that they're usually too busy pursing they're lips to ever look happy. The hairstyles of these guys I still don't understand. Europe would be in uproar if a global gel shortage struck.

Anyway, the Saturday after Montreaux was a recovery day because Luis and I drove back right after the festival and got back to Zurich around 4 am. On Saturday night I went to a housewarming party for one of Stefan's friends and met some nice people. It was there that I finally bit the bullet and decided to just go out and find a good hike. Stefan suggested Pilatus, which is the mountain right by the Swiss city of Luzern, located southwest of Zurich on the way to Interlaken and the Alps. I had learned my lesson from the week before and went home from the party with ample time to sleep and recover from a much wiser beer intake level than I had gone with the previous weekend.

Approximate beginning; I started down at the lake

About 1/3 up

On Sunday morning, I packed my backpack and rode my bike to Zurich central station, grabbed a ticket to Luzern, and enjoyed a bit of "Shantaram" on my ipod as the Swiss countryside flew by. The short train ride got me to Luzern around noon. After a quick stop at the grocery store for a cheap mountain lunch and some instructions for the trail location from the tourist office, I headed off to the trail head. I started at about 400 m elevation and hiked up to about 1500 m. The trail was a combination of gravel path and forest path. It wove in and out of the woods and offered some stellar views of the surrounding Swiss landscape, which can somehow be as flat as an undisturbed glacier lake, as graceful as a gentle green pasture, and as mountanious as the mind could ever imagine a place being all in the same moment. Even as you feel the hot summer sun on your back you're reminded of the amazing altitude changes marked on the horizon that is still dotted with snow covered peaks in the hottest of the summer months.

Almost halfway, channeling Winston

The hike continued and I spent about three hours completely alone in the quiet of the trail, with only a few other hikers passing by from time to time each absorbed in his or her own experience. My hike ended about 600 m from the 2100 m altitude peak, where there began another more difficult trail to the top. I elected to take the lift up to the top for time reasons, as I wanted to see the view with ample sunlight and enough time to comfortably get down and back to Luzern. The view from the up there was as one could imagine; I found myself up with those snow covered peaks, directly above the place where I felt that hot summer sun which had now been replaced in a matter of moments with a brisk cold wind akin to one atop a ski run in January. I bundled up and broke out my bread and cheese while enjoying the view and the the changing clouds that seemed to crash into the very edge on which I sat, breaking into pieces and reforming on the other side as the wind whipped around the rocky peak. Its fun to be alone on the top of a mountain with a sloppily made cheese sandwich and the quiet.

At the top

South

East

I took the cable car down to the base and then the train back to Luzern, where I did a quick tour of the city center and noted some of the architecture, per usual. I was sore and happy, covered in the salty remains of a day's hard earned sweat that's been frozen onto you by a cold wind. I resumed another 45 minutes of Shantaram on my ipod and once again watched the Swiss countryside zip by out the window. Back in Zurich, I made a quick dinner and settled in for a good night's sleep. The Phillies won their 8th game in a row back home, Philadelphia played hosted the US victory over Panama in the semifinals in the Gold Cup, and I was truly happy in Zurich. A great day.

Jean Nouvel's Culture and Congress Center in Lucern...

the coolest cantilever I've ever seen?

Addendum: Today, the Monday following my hike, was punctuated by some of the best weather I've seen in Zurich. I got out of work at a reasonable hour, stopped at the grocery store, dropped off the food at home, and headed straight for the lake by bike, where I locked up and went for a long run along the water. It was finally clear enough to see the snow covered peaks in the distance over the Lake of Zurich that stretches south towards the Alps and the Swiss Italian border. Work wasn't too great today, but I've got a stomach full of carbonara enjoyed on the balcony and the dying light from a beautiful evening in Europe to keep my morale where it belongs.

Chapter One

New home

Departure: Philadelphia, 30 June, 6:15 PM
Arrival: Zurich (via London), 1 July 12:55 PM.

When I left Philadelphia, a lot of the uneasiness I had about leaving came from not having a place to stay in Zurich. Just before departure, I had an email agreement from a guy who hosted travelers in his apartment. There I could stay for at least a couple of days as I looked for a long term place, but it wasn’t until my layover in London that I actually confirmed that, learned the address, and decided on a time to meet him. It was hard to say goodbye to home after such a short period there after graduation. That, coupled with the drawn out stress of getting my visa back before my flight (got it with 36 hours to spare), the very real fear of having no apartment, and my complete lack of German literacy made for a shaky start and anxious travels.

Being in transcontinental transit in that mood was surreal, definitely different from the pure excitement I had last time when I left for Rome. It went pretty quickly in the end, and before I knew it I was buying my ticket into Zurich from the airport; then off the train, in the taxi, and finally upstairs in the apartment with Dominik, the host of the apartment-hostel. The situation turned out to be exactly what I needed: really cheap accommodation and a safe place to keep valuables, all with amenities of a lived-in apartment. It would be home base for 2 nights and three days as I frantically searched for my long-term flat.

Those days spent in limbo were quite difficult and testing. I was for the most part completely alone with the clock ticking before my first day at work. Luckily, the two places that I had arranged to visit via the student housing site I found online were within walking distance of my temporary home, so I did not yet have to wrap my head around the public transit to complete stage one of operation: Zurich. In the end, I looked at two flats over those three days—the only two options I could find—and ended up in one of them. As it turns out, I think I made the right choice: the flat is really nice inside, has a balcony, and the guy from whom I rented it is on a surf vacation to Costa Rica returning when I leave, so perfect timing and a perfect match.

Flat came complete w/ Endless Summer poster; this must be home

Bedroom; nice!

Balcony

Sound corner; I can play with all this

Lester, the guy from whom I rented the flat, was nice enough to leave a lot of his daily living materials for me to use. It was really clutch because I didn’t have to run out to buy sheets, pillows, towels, pots, pans, etc. All that is here, and as if that weren’t enough, he’s letting me use his bike in his absence. Everything in Zurich costs an arm and a leg…nearly had to pay 50chf (about 48 bucks) for a simple adapter to plug my computer into the Swiss outlet. The cheapest pillow I saw, and I looked, was about 75 bucks. So, all that stuff plus a free bike means not only avoiding getting one on my own but also free transit within Zurich for three months. You can bike everywhere, and I plan to.

New ride, complete with flat tire; really light though

So far I guess this sounds nice—pretty pictures, nice apartment. But when you're in a beautiful place and you still find yourself in low spirits, its gets even worse because it feels like you're really blowing it. Those first three days before I took those pretty pictures were nasty. No sleep, jetlagged, constantly sweating, not enough food, and total loneliness. The one real positive in my first three days before ultimately moving into my new flat was meeting Marco for dinner. Marco is a Columbia dad, and we were connected through his daughter Amanda (thanks Amanda!). Marco took me out to dinner on the first night and really did a lot to salvage my mood. I was running wide open on absolutely no sleep, close to no food, and I was pretty worried about getting integrated into what still is a totally different environment. Marco’s architect friend joined us for dinner, and I got some critical tips about day trips and architecture sites in Zurich and the surrounding areas. I had some sort of thinly sliced veal with a special Zurich style potato side for dinner. According to Marco, that dish is Zurich, and it was tasty. He and I will keep in touch I hope throughout my stay and think he'll prove to be the most valuable and helpful resource for me here. I’m excited to get to know him better over the coming months.

Lester was also nice enough to bring me along for his last night in Zurich before his trip. I met a lot of his friends and also got a chance to meet his flatmates who I’m living with now. Before that night I hadn’t decided on taking the apartment, but his friends were really welcoming and nice as we raged amongst the always appreciated but certainly trashy eurotrash, so that really cemented the apartment for me.

View from the balcony

On Saturday, after I finished moving all of my stuff into the apartment, my flatmate Stefan and I went to the river to go swimming and play volleyball. There is a lot of water in Zurich, which is great. The lake is quite close to my house and the river is alive with paths and little places to swim. The spot we went was not actually so little. It ended up being a huge riverside hangout spot that was completely packed with people roasting in the afternoon heat. We jumped off of the bridge into the river along with tons of other Swiss swimmers, and enjoyed the rapid float down with the current. This is common practice—to drop your stuff, walk up the river, jump in, and let the current take you back down to the floats where there are ladders and sun platforms along the edge. Awesome. Stefan and I lost our game of volleyball, but there is potential there and we will look to improve for our next outing.

About 6 minutes away on the bike; it's a lake!

I’ve done a lot more than I’ve described, but all of it has been panic stricken wandering. It is a huge relief to be settled and unpacked in a flat, and as I’ve found out through describing to people I've met the manner in which I got it, I am so lucky to have had things work out like this. Some of Lester’s friends have been searching for an apartment for months now and they still don’t have one. My worries were legitimate, but the chips fell in my favor for round one of this three month effort. Work starts tomorrow, chapter two forthcoming.

Around the corner, as seen from bike

Preface

The lure of returning to Europe, born from the memory of five great months in Rome, was strong enough to bring me to Zurich, Switzerland, in this case much less prepared and organized than I was a year and a half ago when I first left to live abroad. At that time, when I left for Italy to spend a semester in Rome, I was protected by the structure of an academic program, the reassurance of my home university, and a working knowledge of the language. This time around is quite different. I now play the part of the wandering graduate who in this case arrived in a place that wasn’t expecting him. There was no friendly Francesco at the airport holding a big sign with the guiding words “IES ROME” waiting to lead me to a special room where I would be introduced to classmates, roommates, and provided with keys to my already organized apartment. This time, as I got off of my connecting flight into Zurich, I was greeted with…I have no idea, as I do not speak German.

The story cataloguing the journey of how I got to where I am, here now in Zurich, is too dramatic, exaggerated, and ultimately embarrassing to explain in detail. Suffice to say that first, I applied and was accepted as a ThinkSwiss research scholar to go to somewhere Switzerland and do some kind of research in a field of my choice, that being architecture at the ETH in Zurich. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to even have the chance to apply to the scholarship and even more fortunate to successfully organize and produce an application that was accepted. Secondly, I battled and battled with the Swiss consulate and embassy to mastermind the ascertaining of a still inadequate visa that should have been much easier to get than it was. Thirdly, I battled and battled with the limits of the internet, my lack of German, the six hour time difference between the US and Switzerland, and the massive housing shortage in Zurich to finally end up in a flat with people of my own age in a price range that I could afford in a place that wasn’t three hours from my place of work and the nearest grocery store and bar. Basically, suffice to say, that somehow I am in one piece, and in Zurich today. (Thanks mom.)

The goal of this blog is to talk about the excitement, setbacks, and realities of starting a completely new existence in a foreign place without getting caught by the temptation of writing endlessly about all of the new “feelings” that I am “feeling”. By that, I aim to leave out the emotional sludge and instead focus on the difficulties and benefits of starting challenging work in a foreign city with no safety net. In my case, this adventure comes at the end of college, at the end of an era with great friends at a great school, right after saying the hardest of goodbyes—maybe even one to childhood itself. While I’m most certainly proud of being a five year old at heart, starting Monday, for the first time ever really, I actually cannot act like one, at least from 9-5. This volatile scenario will unfold in Zurich, (partly) on the Swiss government’s dime, at a pioneering architecture firm at ETH.