On Tuesday morning I stumbled off the plane in Zurich after an overnight flight from Toronto, with a day to spend before climbing back on board another plane for another long flight, overnight to Johannesburg.
Why I would punish this 65 year-old body like this, I don’t know.
I took the train downtown, to the Hauptbahnhof, grabbed a bite to eat, and headed along the Bahnhofstrasse, popped into the Fraumunster to see the Chagall windows, crossed the bridge across the River Limmat beneath the towers of the Grossmunster, and so whiled away the morning with sightseeing and photographs.
By lunch time I was footsore and spaced out after only two or three hour’s sleep during the flight, so I found myself a table at a quiet little restaurant in a quiet little square and took my time over some very tasty pork and noodles – posing, to my amusement, as pork ‘ossobucco’ with ‘risotto’ and with an incongruous slice of grapefruit to the side. It was delicious.
Zurich – at least the Altstadt – struck me most on a chilly grey day with its quietude – its architecture and spaces not severe, exactly, but restrained, disciplined, a little prim perhaps, or perhaps dreaming of higher, more spiritual things, as befits a home of the Reformation.
This image, of the fountain in the quiet square where I ate my lunch, captures for me something of what Zurich evoked, in my mind and emotions. Perhaps this weekend I will have time to process and post a few others.