Monday, September 05, 2005

5 September 2005

After hosting a little Friday night party for a friend’s going away (the expat population here is so transient that someone is always coming or going), I spent this past weekend in St. Moritz, a mountain resort town about 3-1/2 hours away by train. St. Moritz (or, as a friend mistakenly called it to his unimpressed coworker, St. Mor-tease) is a pretty town in the Alps, suitably packed with over-priced hotels, shops selling Prada and Rolex, and noticeably devoid of local residents. While we were there, my friend and I tried out a couple of restaurants (one of which played an inexplicable mismatched mix of music that included Stevie Wonder, The Who, Shakira, and Richard Marx), walked around the lake, and went to the top of Piz Nair, over 10,000 feet (3,000 meters) above sea level. And no, we didn’t hike up, and if you thought we did, you obviously don’t know us very well!

One thing that we noticed while we were there was that there were an awful lot of matchy-matchy couples of all ages, shapes, and sizes. Couples who were jogging together would wear matching running shoes and spandex shorts. Yes, there were many men in spandex shorts. Up on the mountain, couples were sporting matching, wildly-patterned windbreakers. Couples on bikes wore matching bike shorts and helmets. We even saw a couple wearing matching sailor hats.

Another thing that we noticed was that even for Switzerland, St. Moritz is very homogeneous. Zurich is probably the most diverse city in Switzerland, and my friend, who is African-American, and I, Asian-American, both stick out, my friend more so than I do, since there are always tourists roaming around, providing camouflage for me. St. Moritz was as white as snow, powdered sugar, copy paper, hotel sheets, and so on, so we definitely felt like explorers in an alien land, especially since we weren’t wearing matching spandex shorts and windbreakers. The hotel manager, who was rather garrulous, wanted to know where we were from, and he noted that St. Moritz does get some Asian tourists, but mostly Japanese, because “the Chinese tourists all go to Geneva,” apparently. I didn’t get that memo, but now I know.

While waiting to get information at the train station in St. Moritz, we were in line behind some tourists who were inquiring as to whether they might be able to go to a nearby city and back in time to catch their 5 o’clock train. The clerk said that the train there would take an hour and fifteen minutes, and that it was leaving at 2:45, getting there at 4, and that the next train back didn’t leave until 4:51. These apparently brilliant tourists asked if that would get them back in time for their 5 o’clock train. I was tempted to butt in and say that yes, it would, if they were able to bend space and time. In any case, they were quite shocked that they couldn’t make two-and-a-half hours of travel time plus sightseeing fit into two hours and fifteen minutes. Not to be defeated, they then inquired whether there were any “beautiful tourist sights” they might see nearby. Um, look outside, you’re in the middle of the Alps!!

One last thing, a huge weight has recently been lifted off my mind. We aren’t allowed to throw away cardboard here, as it has to go into recycling, but it can only be taken out once a month. Not being Swiss, I threw away my recycling schedule when it came in the mail, and so I never know when it’s cardboard day until I’m walking to work and see cardboard that has been flattened, bundled, and set out on the curb, and it’s too late for me to run upstairs, sort my boxes, flatten them, bundle them, bring them back down, and still get to work in time. I missed cardboard day for many months in a row, but had still been receiving packages and buying things that come in boxes, and so the pile of cardboard had been growing steadily.

The other week, I happened to be out and about around dinnertime and noticed that there were piles of boxes in the road, and was finally able to pack up all of my boxes and sneak them into someone else’s cardboard pile (thereby avoiding the need to buy stickers to put on each half-cubic meter of flattened cardboard to show that I had paid the requisite cardboard tax). Never has someone been so happy and relieved to recycle a huge pile of cardboard boxes. Missing trash days and recycling days makes it very difficult to hold steady in the constant battle against trash accumulation here.

Off to Ireland for three days this weekend, missing Knabenschiessen, but hoping to get a couple of good dives in!!

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