Faits divers

Summer is in full swing here in Central Switzerland. It feels like our first real summer since moving here two years ago. People are back to pre-pandemic life and the lake is buzzing with tourists and locals. Compared to last summer, the weather is heiss. Hot, hot, hot!

We are fortunate to enjoy a bit of cooler air in the evenings with temperatures that are generally a couple of degrees lower than many of our neighbouring cities and countries. My father-in-law in Lyon, France, reports temps topping 39 degrees Celsius, while we are sweltering at only 30-32. Fortunately Raymond has air conditioning in his apartment, although like most French people he uses it sparingly. But at least he can keep cool through the worst hours of the day.

I took the boys out for a walk this morning just after six a.m., when it was still cool enough for them to enjoy sniffing around. They are coming up to 10 years old and, like many seniors, suffer from health problems. Even younger, Frenchies do not do well in the heat so we are careful to keep them as cool as possible.

Not a lot happens in our postcard of a Swiss town. But a couple of Sundays ago a fait divers* saw Brunnen in the news. As we relaxed by the lake, variously known as the Vierwaldstättersee, the Lake of 4 Cantons or Lake Uri, a helicopter cut across the sky to a mountain top and hovered there before taking what looked like a suspicious plunge towards the other side of the lake. In the meantime, we heard the ‘pam pom’ of sirens. Nothing so unusual in that as choppers often bring people who are injured or ill to waiting ambulances.

It turned out that while we were lounging around on our beach towels, a car had gone off the road that runs alongside a rocky cliff on the road to Brunnen and plunged 50 metres into the lake. For several days it remained introuvable, until a week later it was found by a camera boat at nearly 200 metres depth. Needless to say there were no survivors. The wreckage was impressive.

*Fait divers: ‘Brief news stories, as those typically found in some French newspapers, that are sensational, lurid, etc.’

We were treated to some spectacular fireworks off our terrace on August 1st, the Swiss national holiday. I was spoiled, as it also happens to be my birthday. Especially as it was accompanied for the first time by a visit from our grandson. Which called for champagne. And cake!

Happy brithday, old girl!

We are soaking up as much of ‘Sommer’ here in Brunnen as we can. Sadly, it will be our last. I mentioned in an earlier post that we will be moving next year, but I’ve been waiting to have the official date in writing before sharing more. As with most construction projects these days, there have been delays due to the pandemic and supply shortages related to the war in Ukraine. Our builder has assured us we will have the schedule in writing by mid-month but I’m not holding my breath. Best guess is we’ll be moving by early March. Hard to believe as this is what it looks like now:

I will be sad to leave our current location but there are a few things I won’t regret. Our beautiful view here is offset by the noise from a road just below. And my inability to speak the local lingo is definitely not fun (I’d finally started to get a little momentum going last year but when we decided we’d be moving, my motivation to learn German went AWOL).

Our new home will be located in a small town above Lake Geneva in the Lavaux wine-growing region above Vevey, just a short drive from Montreux with its famous ‘smoke on the water’ jazz festival. Also known as the Vaud Riviera, it is famous for its terraced vineyards, which have been classified as a UNESCO world heritage site.

Best of all, we will be close to family on both the Swiss and French sides of the lake.

A suivre…

Fasnacht

It started with a bang. Make that a boom. A very loud one, like cannon fire. At 5 o’clock in the morning yesterday. Immediately followed by the wild and crazy strains of marching band music echoing through the streets.

I buried my head in my pillow and wondered, what the what? But then I remembered: it was the official start of Fasnacht, the Swiss version of carnival.

It seems that the dates of Fasnacht vary widely and the biggest carnival, in Basel, actually starts much earlier in February. But here in Brunnen we follow similar traditions to nearby Lucerne, starting on Dirty Thursday and finishing on what I always called Pancake Tuesday:

So yesterday afternoon I went to investigate. It didn’t take long to figure out that this was a very big day around here. Many smaller shops were closed for the celebrations. All through the streets I saw parades of school children and people, young and old, in crazy get ups. Green hair, full face makeup, colourful costumes of all kinds. Walking down a quiet sidestreet, a small boy dressed in a miniature police uniform and carrying a bag of confetti politely said, “Gruëtzi!”

The main street was blocked off and filled with people dancing to band music. Stands were set up and tables laid out where people sat drinking beer and snacking. Oddly, donuts seemed to be a big thing. Although I think these were closer to the apple fritters or ‘beignets’ than the donuts I grew up with.

There was confetti everywhere on the street and clouds of smoke emanated from one float where I believe they were going to burn the traditional carnival ‘bonhomme’.

It’s funny to see the normally sedate Swiss cut loose. Not being able to communicate much in the local lingo I kept a low profile; frankly, not being dressed up at all made me feel like a party pooper. But I loved watching the joyful tomfoolery of it all. And I appreciate how deeply the local traditions are embedded in the culture here.

Some people were shocked when the Swiss council last week announced the official end to pandemic restrictions, with the exception of masks on public transport, in care homes and healthcare settings. But with the Omicron variant now waning and hospitals not especially overwhelmed, it was decided that now was the time to get back to some semblance of normal. Pretty sure somebody chose the date with carnival in mind.

I know it still tough for some, and I can only hope this is the beginning of the end of this miserable virus. But for all the crowds out enjoying Fasnacht yesterday after two years of restrictions, it felt like a party in more ways than one.

How about you? Ready to celebrate?

P.S. Shout out to WordPress for the quick support in posting the video. I have a plan that lets me share video content but needed help in understanding (or remembering?) how to do it!

Comfort and joy

Do you remember the television special, ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’? The Vince Guaraldi soundtrack made it into something truly special. And as I get ready to celebrate another holiday all these years later, listening to ‘Christmas Time is Here’, I feel nostalgic. Not sad but melancholy.

Christmas feels bittersweet to me now. The feeling grows with each year that passes. As if the weight of all those Yuletides past, the joys and the sorrows, good times and bad, cast a shadow on the present, no matter how happy.

Last year was a sad Christmas. Recovering from Covid, my husband and I spent it without any family other than each other. Food had lost its taste but the dog’s farts still made my eyes water (how is that?), I had no energy and little appetite for any of the usual things. But it was oddly relaxing. The pressure was off. Zero expectations meant that any joy that did come along was unexpected. Oddly, it was sort of fun, or at least memorable.

Two years ago, pre-pandemic, in another lifetime, we were all together for Christmas in Canada. Family, friends, childhood holiday traditions revisited. It was joyful but exhausting. Yet, especially in hindsight, I am so glad we went ‘home’ for Christmas in 2019 because life is short and who knows when we will do it again?

This year, if the French trains cooperate, we will celebrate Christmas together at home here in Switzerland with our children and their grandfather. No matter how bittersweet, I will raise a cup of cheer and savour every last drop.

Tidings to you, dear blog friends! May your fondest wishes come true as we ring out this crazy old year. Bring on 2022!

Der Schnee

One of the things I love about living here in Central Switzerland is that we get a real winter. Something about the snow — der Schnee — always raises my Canadian spirits, especially in the run up to Christmas.

Even a sprinkling of the white stuff on the mountains casts everything in a new light. You see all kinds of details that you never noticed before.

There are twinkling lights on the balconies and across the valley, making it feel like a winter wonderland. Even the fog has it charms!

Part of the fun here is knowing that no matter how much snow falls, they are up to the job. Our town has a veritable army of snow removal trucks waiting in the wings with their engines revving. By November, they’ve installed bright orange poles all along the edges of the roads to clearly demarcate where the plows need to go. Even our small street is already plowed by the time I take the dogs out at first light.

Oh, the marvel of Swiss efficiency! (I do miss things about France, but snow removal is not one of them).

And when the sun comes out and bounces off the mountain tops it’s just, well…soul-satisfying.

At this time of year, as we head towards the winter solstice, you have to get out early in the afternoon to catch the sun’s last hurrah before it slips between the mountains. Then you get to huddle indoors as darkness creeps and even pour yourself a glass of something to enjoy from the warmth of cozy indoors.

If you are really blessed, you may even have a furry foot warmer or two.

What’s your favourite part of winter?

Schön

There is something magical that happens when the clocks go back. Don’t get me wrong — I’m no fan of the switch, whether to winter or summertime (although if I had to choose, it would be winter, which feels somehow more natural to me).

But since we moved here, I’ve noticed that the late fall season has something special to the light, and the time change somehow moves me to get outside just as darkness falls in all its splendour.

I experience a secret thrill in walking outside and seeing all the lit up windows. They are like tableaux vivants, welcoming frames of life seen from the street. I see a lamp or a screen or shelf with books. A coat on a hook or silhouettes of people in a kitchen. It gives me a feeling of being welcomed and warm. Perhaps it is close to the Danish idea of ‘hygge’.

So out and about I’ve strolled in our little town for an hour or so twice this week just as the sun set. The moon and the sky do some amazing things this time of year. I wish my camera could capture all the nuances.

I have a recent iPhone but haven’t really figured out how to do all the fancy stuff with the camera. I tried time lapse but that was just a blurry video. Then somehow I lucked into a night mode that worked.

There is something almost eerie about the fact that the dry leaves still cling to the trees in the light of the streetlamps. Nature hasn’t yet fully battened down its hatches; the grass is still green. I know it won’t last long. Soon it will be too bitterly cold and wet to be out for a walk at the end of the day.

Plus, there’s all the magic of living in a very Swiss town with its safe street life and painted façades. I still struggle with the language and doubt I’ll ever be fluent but I am picking up and decoding more words. One easy one inspired the title of this post: schön. Lovely, beautiful, good.

And that is how I’m feeling now. How are things with you?