Around the Rhine
Day 1: Zürich Arrival
Our flight from San Francisco touched down in Zürich at 3:45pm, precisely on schedule — and of course, a Swiss International Air Lines flight would be accurate to the minute. After a tedious and sweaty wait at passport control, we made our way to the baggage claim. I spotted our bags and jogged to save them before they disappeared back into the maw of the luggage carousel. I was excited to get into the city.
The taxi ride into Zürich was a comfortable, 20-minute trip in a newish van to the front door of our hotel. We could have taken a train or tram for much cheaper, but after an international flight, with a good deal of luggage and little grasp of German beyond the phrase
Ich möchte hier trinken (“I want to drink here”), I felt it would be best to skip public transportation and ensure we could get settled quickly and safely.
The Hotel Rütli is named after the famed Rütli Meadow on Lake Lucerne, where in 1291 the leaders of the Swiss cantons of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden swore a loyalty oath that founded the Swiss Confederation. Located on the east side of the Limmat river, in the pedestrian-friendly Altstadt, or Old Town, it is an easy walk to all of the city’s main sights.
The hotel itself was pleasant enough — the feel of an old building resurrected with modern European interior design. The most troubling aspect of this design, however, were the in-room bathrooms, which did not contain fans and were separated from the bedroom by a thin wall of frosted glass. This meant that a husband (for example) who uses the bathroom in the middle of the night will be subjecting his wife (again, just for example) to sudden, bright, white light flooding the bedroom. Now fully awake, the wife in this scenario (which, once again, I must stress, is purely theoretical), will be a captive audience to every last noise that emanates from said bathroom with perfect acoustic clarity.
After a quick rest in the room, we decided to venture out to see the grand Swiss city of Zürich and its people on a Saturday night — to soak in the local nightlife, to hear the strangeness of the native language, and to experience the customs that are unique to this corner of Europe. And so, we gathered our things and set off confidently on our adventure… and stopped about 18 seconds later, having managed to walk across the narrow street and into a Scottish bar full of British ex-pats.
Not the most intrepid start, I’ll admit. Really easing into the whole Swiss thing. In our defense, we both drank Swiss beers.
After a bit of liquid courage, we left the bar and continued down the cobblestone street toward a couple of well-rated Swiss restaurants. We peeked through the windows of Raclette Stube, which looked warm and homey in the chilly November night air, but it had customers lined up at the door. The second spot, Walliser-Keller, was only a half-block away and had a pleasant dining room, so we gave it a try.
We enjoyed a terrific appetizer of assorted meats, cheese, nuts, dried apricots, and pickled vegetables. This was followed by perhaps the best cheese fondue I have ever tasted. Called the “Half and Half,” it was in fact a mix of three cheeses from Western Switzerland: Moitié-Moitié, Vacheron, and Gruyère. Paired with a Merlot from the Rhône River valley north of the Matterhorn, it was a simple and comforting meal of creamy goodness. Just the thing after a long day of flying.
After dinner, we circled the immediate area a couple of times. Things were beginning to get spirited on this Saturday night, as crowds formed outside the bars and the surprisingly abundant head shops along the streets. We bought some beer and water for our room, then walked down to the Limmat. There we spotted one of the iconic swans that grace the river. It glided towards us casually, hoping for a handout, a solitary character on a darkened stage.
Back at the hotel, I hopped into bed and called our son Danny on Facetime, excitedly communicating extraneous details about Zürich from our limited, three-block perspective. He listened patiently and smiled, his face a serene picture of a young adult who has the house to himself for two weeks.
I expected to rest well that night but instead had a miserable time trying to get to sleep. Aside from the annoyances of the bathroom, I was jet-lagged and burning up — dehydrated from the journey, the alcohol, and a cold I had been fighting. The air conditioning system seemed to be cranking out heat no matter how I set the dial. So on this chilly November night in Switzerland, I opened the windows. A quick breeze cut its way into the room. Relief. I crawled back into bed just as a man shouted in the street below, followed by laughter from someone else and more shouting. But this lasted only for a couple of hours, or, for the sleepless, precisely 7,200 seconds.
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