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| Bisse de Claveau from Sion to St Leonard |
I’m not really aware of time passing when I live in Egypt, since each day is so similar to the other. Having said that, in February-March I’m wishing the sea would heat up; in August-September, by contrast, I’m looking forward to getting back to cooler evenings so I don’t wake up every night feeling too hot. But, regardless, each day is blue sky and sunshine (with the rare exception) and it’s a continual holiday. Time doesn’t really matter.
However, in Zurich, or maybe it’s whenever I’m working, I’m much more aware of time and the fact that it’s passing. I always need to have a watch, I always need to know what time it is, I need to know how much time things are taking.
A few weeks ago, we turned the clocks back. Ignoring the fact that in Egypt changing the clocks is a bit hit and miss (they seem to change their mind every year and then sometimes even within the year), even when they do change the clocks, it doesn’t make much difference to me. I might get less time on the beach, and I have to recalculate when the UK TV programs are on, but that’s about it.
Here, though, it altered my whole perception. Suddenly, I'm walking home from work in the dark and it makes me feel like I must have been in the office for ages. In that darkness, winter lurks in the back of your mind; you remember that it’s the time of year for heating, heavy clothes, and gluehwein. And along with this, of course, is the background realization that summer has now gone, that time is marching on.
It also changes my routine. My regular teleconferences on Tuesdays suddenly shifted on my calendar from noon to 11am because the clocks hadn’t changed in Australia. I’m reluctant to go to the gym if it’s already dark.
Another thing that makes me realise that time is pressing on is the change in the natural environment. Apparently, I’ve continued to luck out this year in Zurich. Not only did we have an unusually good summer, but the autumn colours are spectacular just now.
Here, though, it altered my whole perception. Suddenly, I'm walking home from work in the dark and it makes me feel like I must have been in the office for ages. In that darkness, winter lurks in the back of your mind; you remember that it’s the time of year for heating, heavy clothes, and gluehwein. And along with this, of course, is the background realization that summer has now gone, that time is marching on.
It also changes my routine. My regular teleconferences on Tuesdays suddenly shifted on my calendar from noon to 11am because the clocks hadn’t changed in Australia. I’m reluctant to go to the gym if it’s already dark.
Another thing that makes me realise that time is pressing on is the change in the natural environment. Apparently, I’ve continued to luck out this year in Zurich. Not only did we have an unusually good summer, but the autumn colours are spectacular just now.
I had wondered if I was particularly sensitive to the colours all around me because I haven’t seen autumn for a few years, but people tell me it is extra stunning this year. It’s a joy to look out my window and to see the trees; and along with that, there’s a sense of astonishment as to how it could already be so late in the year. The trees are another kind of clock.
To maximize my enjoyment of autumn, I went for a trek along the vineyards by Sion last weekend. The railway was doing a special 2-for-1 offer on their day tickets, so we were able to go to the Valais on a bargain ticket. I will miss being able to travel about so easily when I return to Egypt.
Anyway, it was November 1st and the weather was so mild that I was able to walk in a t-shirt and we were able to sit outside for lunch! It's hard to believe.
To maximize my enjoyment of autumn, I went for a trek along the vineyards by Sion last weekend. The railway was doing a special 2-for-1 offer on their day tickets, so we were able to go to the Valais on a bargain ticket. I will miss being able to travel about so easily when I return to Egypt.
Anyway, it was November 1st and the weather was so mild that I was able to walk in a t-shirt and we were able to sit outside for lunch! It's hard to believe.
The sky was blue, the sun was low and imparting an orange glow over the landscape. Mountains were all around us and we walked along the vineyards, which were staggered up the mountainside. The slopes were stepped with stone and slate walls bordering the small patches of ground in between for the vines (the stair treads). Looking down, the countryside was a patchwork of orange and red; on the flatter ground, a green golf course with fountains looked like something out of Camberwick Green (UK children’s cartoon-like programme from the ‘60’s).
Shops are closed on Sunday in Switzerland, so it’s a popular day for hiking. Consequently, we met a fair number of people of all ages and dispositions (babies in prams, serious joggers, pensioners, groups of youths) as we walked along. We were now in the French-speaking section of Switzerland so it was “bonjour” as we passed instead of the Swiss-German “gruezi”. The pace of life felt much more relaxed.
The route was signposted with informational boards, but I wasn’t observant enough actually to see a lizard, absinth, or a pomegranate. At various intervals, the vintners had cosy places where you could sample their wines and / or eat. However, the hiking path was quite narrow and at times the drop quite sheer. Walking along it sober was fine, but I’m not sure I’d like to risk it if I were inebriated .
Looking at all the work it must take to harvest the vines on those steep slopes made me appreciate why wine is so expensive in Switzerland. Ironically, though, when we stopped for a drink before getting the train back, the wine cost only just over 3 CHF. In Zurich, a glass of wine will cost around twice that amount (even more if you go for an expensive wine). It’s strange how very different the Swiss cantons can be (language, economics, attitude); it’s part of the marvel of living in Switzerland.
Additionally, visiting a different canton, particularly one where they speak a different language, makes you feel as if you’ve been away for longer than you actually have. Time is a funny thing.
Shops are closed on Sunday in Switzerland, so it’s a popular day for hiking. Consequently, we met a fair number of people of all ages and dispositions (babies in prams, serious joggers, pensioners, groups of youths) as we walked along. We were now in the French-speaking section of Switzerland so it was “bonjour” as we passed instead of the Swiss-German “gruezi”. The pace of life felt much more relaxed.
The route was signposted with informational boards, but I wasn’t observant enough actually to see a lizard, absinth, or a pomegranate. At various intervals, the vintners had cosy places where you could sample their wines and / or eat. However, the hiking path was quite narrow and at times the drop quite sheer. Walking along it sober was fine, but I’m not sure I’d like to risk it if I were inebriated .
Looking at all the work it must take to harvest the vines on those steep slopes made me appreciate why wine is so expensive in Switzerland. Ironically, though, when we stopped for a drink before getting the train back, the wine cost only just over 3 CHF. In Zurich, a glass of wine will cost around twice that amount (even more if you go for an expensive wine). It’s strange how very different the Swiss cantons can be (language, economics, attitude); it’s part of the marvel of living in Switzerland.
Additionally, visiting a different canton, particularly one where they speak a different language, makes you feel as if you’ve been away for longer than you actually have. Time is a funny thing.
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