Zurich - Trip to Bad Ragaz

Bad Ragaz - By the Spa

The weather at the moment is like April – sometimes rainy, sometimes snow, sometimes sunshine, sometimes constant rain. Anyway, on Saturday it was a glorious day. When it’s sunny here, it’s amazing. Everything is so sharp and looks so clean. I think you don’t get that same sharpness in Hurghada (probably due to some latent sand being in the air).

Caterina had invited me to join her on a trip to the spa at Bad Ragaz. To my surprise, I realized that I’d never been there, even though it’s not so far away. When I used to go skiing in winter (which I gave up because I was no good at it and didn’t enjoy it), it was often the same train as to Bad Ragaz and I was always surprised how many people stayed on the train, presumably going to the spa.

My favorite philosopher (the German Idealist Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling – who has the same birthday as my friend Holger, which shows how good I am at choosing friends) is buried in Bad Ragaz. I’ve published articles on Schelling and have translated his work Clara. When I lived in Freiburg for two years, I put aside some time to make a pilgrimage to all the places Schelling used to be and this included, of course, a trip to Bad Ragaz to see his final resting place. However, that was roughly back in year 2000. How time flies. I don’t think the weather was particularly good on that day. The German Idealists also often did “cures’ at spas, but I never went into the spa at the time I searched for his grave. I think I was too intimidated and in any case I hadn’t brought any swimming gear with me.

Fast forward now to 19 years later and I’m on the train again to Bad Ragaz. This time, it was to visit the spa, which is really quite famous. The train was fairly busy, but the trip went smoothly, taking into account that, as usual, I’d not bothered to pack my mobile phone (and I forgot to pack a book as well, and my camera…). Caterina and I met by wandering up and down the train looking for each other. Caterina said she’d tried to phone me, which shows that she still needs to know me a little bit longer, since wandering aimlessly in the hope of seeing the person I’m looking for is more my style.

We walked to the spa, and conveniently Schelling’s grave (well, the cemetery) was en route. The walk was much quicker than I expected from having studied the map at the station, so it must have been quite large scale. Bad Ragaz itself was astonishingly clean, perhaps helped by the blue sky, the snow-covered mountains, and the wealthy clientele that come for their spas.

Schelling’s monument was immediately on the right as we went in and was one of only two large graves in the cemetery. It, too, looked very clean and I don’t remember it being like that, or so big, but perhaps if it was a grey day at the time, it all took on a muted appearance. On this day, Schelling's grave gleamed white in the sunshine.

We walked on and debated going into the old spa, which I assume is where Schelling would have gone. However, from the outside it looked more like a medical spa (in keeping with the German Idealists) and I was not keen to ruin what was a lovely day. So, we walked further to the Tamina spa.

It’s in a huge white building with large oval windows and is also a hotel. Caterina had to phone home to make sure her son was OK with the babysitter, so I was left to negotiate the changing rooms on my own. This was fine, although at first I could see only men and did wonder if I was in the wrong bit, but it turned out to be unisex and it had just been coincidence that all patrons were men.

I can recommend the spa; there’s also a sauna area (extra cost) and we took part in one of the spa rituals which involved coming out halfway through and rubbing salt and pine leaves over yourself and then going in for the next round afterwards. It got a bit too hot on the second round and around a dozen people left, so they opened the doors for a while. I decided to go out at that stage and the guy running it asked me if I was OK. I was the only person they asked, but I know my face goes alarmingly red when I’m in a sauna and also that I sweat a lot more easily than most people, so I probably did look a sight.

We ended up staying there the full day – we left Zurich at 1030 and returned at around 2130 – and I couldn’t believe that I’d never been to the spa before after all these years in Zurich. It just shows you that there’s always more to explore!

Zurich - Bohemian Rhapsody

Not Quite Bohemian Rhapsody

Although I was busy with my tax return when I came back, I still felt the need for a little break and I was in the mood to go to the cinema, which is something I can’t really do in Egypt.

To my delight, I realized that Bohemian Rhapsody was still playing. It had come out just as I was leaving Zurich in October last year and was a bit annoyed that I’d probably miss it, but 19 weeks later and it was still showing. I had to go and see it before it disappeared.

I wouldn’t normally spend an entire blog reporting on a film, but I grew up with Queen and was always a fan, so they feel like part of my life. I even went to see them live in the 1970s, I think it was in Croydon (not a massive venue in London) which, looking back on it, is itself quite extraordinary given how massive Queen became.

It was a no-brainer that I would like the film because with their music it just couldn’t fail in my eyes. Even when there’s a Queen night on the X Factor, I’m still struck, even now, at the diversity of their music.

The film jogged a lot of memories for me; I was astonished that it was Capital Radio that first played Bohemian Rhapsody. That was always “my” radio station as I grew up and I most remember it for introducing me to Kate Bush. They played Wuthering Heights non-stop when it first came out (so it felt). I didn’t like it on first hearing, but it grew on me and I ended up being an ardent fan of Kate Bush as well. It strikes me that Capital Radio was very forward-looking when I look back (err, that’s rather strange wording, but never mind!).

I liked the way the film played out the tension between Freddie Mercury’s confidence and vulnerability, although it never really examined the hole in FM’s life that tortured him in his lonesome hours or why he wanted to deny his cultural background (unless it just passed me by, which is possible!), so there was a certain lack of depth. However, this was a film and not a documentary, I guess.

Afterwards, I read that the film has been described as homophobic, but I didn’t really interpret it that way (critics seem to think it depicts FM having been led astray into homosexuality, but there were hints at it earlier in the film, so I really don’t think that was the message). I was surprised that on the one hand, he seemed easily manipulated, and then on the other hand, he was so stubborn over what the music should be and his own talent (the group wasn’t going to be talked into what they didn’t want to do musically).

There’s something uplifting and satisfying about seeing the life of someone who feels they are meant to do something (ie, music, in this case) and seeing them follow it doggedly. There was a strong message about the importance of music to FM and to Queen. Of course, you don’t know how much of what actually happened is fictionalized in the film, but for all of FM’s brazen confidence about his music, I was impressed in the film how he was also portrayed as not being overbearing in the group and to accepting the others’ compositions and work with no acrimony (that seemed to be between the others in the group). And that good music would overcome any argument. The music always came first. It's made me realise that I no longer listen to music nearly enough.

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Zurich - Back Again

This is Not Sahl Hasheesh!

Well, it’s the yearly shock to the system as I return from temperatures in the mid 20s to temperatures below 10 degrees centigrade. I’m a bit late with the blog this week because my first job on returning is always to get my Swiss tax return done and once I get started, I need to finish….

The weather really wasn’t that bad on the first few days I was back. I’m usually not too bothered by colder temperatures at first because there’s a certain novelty value to it after five months away, but it was still too cold to sit outside. Nevertheless, I could see some blue sky, so it was fine (the snow came a week later).

As usual, it’s different things that strike me on returning each time, so on this occasion I was somehow struck by how large Zurich is. I remember that this is how I felt on moving from Horsham to Zurich when I first came over to Switzerland. Most people feel (even complain!) Zurich is small, but those must be city people; once I’m used to Zurich, it feels manageable, which I like, but there’s plenty to do here, so I don’t really ever get the impression that it’s small.

Maybe it’s something to do with travelling in on the train to meet up with someone that made it feel large this time; after all, anything that requires a train journey isn’t such a small distance. But I think it’s also the large buildings that I passed on the train, the many shops as I got into the main station, and the plethora of public transport that all help to add to that impression.

Also, for some reason, I was particularly struck by how dark my bedroom is at night. I wake in the middle of the night and I struggle at first to see anything other than black. In Sahl Hasheesh, the fountain by my bedroom is lit up at night, so some of that light filters through my curtains. It doesn’t bother me at all (there’s something reassuring about having some light), but now that it’s not there and I just have darkness, it feels quite strange.

On my first night back in Zurich, when I woke during the night and gazed into the darkness, I just couldn’t figure out where the door was in my bedroom. I couldn’t even work out where I had the lights by my bed. I stretched over to put one of them on and I couldn’t work out why the bedside table was so high. I finally found the switch but I still hadn’t plugged the light back in to the wall, so it didn’t work. I tried the other side and then, with the light working, I saw that I didn’t have a table on the side I’d originally tried, just some drawers on which my lamp was stood. The door turned out to be the opposite side of the room from where I thought. How can you forget such things in just 5 months? Or even just a few hours, since I’d seen the room when I went to bed.

I was also surprised that the sound of the planes in the morning was really not that bad; I think it’s maybe only bad during the summer when I have the window open (and then it’s deafening but I get used to it and can even sleep through it – not sure if this is good for me from an evolutionary perspective, though).

It took me a few days to get back to cooking for myself again; for some reason, I felt strangely reluctant to make any meals at all, and also irritated that no matter how often I shopped, there was always at least one ingredient missing that I needed. After a few days, I was getting really fed up with going to the Coop. I’d done too good a job of winding down my storage cupboards before I left last time. On the other hand, I found myself delighting in every morsel of food I ate – the pumpkin soup, the panatone, the salmon in pastry, the cornflakes, the chocolate... Each time I had anything, I’d be struck at how delicious it was. I’ve not had that before on returning, but it was a delight!

El Andalous - Rodent Prevention

Kitten on My Balcony - Feeding on Rodents?

I still occasionally hear mice or rats running about above my kitchen and bathroom. They can’t enter my flat (phew), but on occasion I will hear them squeak and sometimes it sounds as if they are having a bit of a fight. Generally, though, it’s just the noise of their feet scuttling across that I hear. The preferred way of catching them seems to be the use of sticky mats that are laid out on the floor and then if  a rodent comes along, it gets stuck on the glue and can't escape.

When I heard the sound of feet scampering around above my kitchen at night, I called our rat prevention guy a few days running, but although I called him, I knew the rodents weren't being caught.  If they are caught, I usually hear the sticky mat as it's being thrust about as the rodent struggles to get free from it. Alternatively, the trapped rodent may just keep on squeaking intermittently as it's lying flat on the sticky surface, particularly if I start cooking and it can smell the enticing smells (poor thing!). Either way, it’s not very nice. Anyway, I didn't hear any squeals or the thumps of the sticky mat being dragged along the floor, so I gave up calling him every day. Why waste his time and mine?

Anyway, that’s an example of my lack of assertiveness. I told Stephen that I’d given up asking the pest prevention guy to check because I didn’t see what else they could do since they had the sticky mats everywhere but nothing was being caught. They’d said there were no holes for the rodents to get through (although obviously they are getting in from somewhere) or that, if there were holes, they were impossible to block because of the electrical wiring. The rat guy had also claimed it was impossible for the rodents to get above my bathroom (although I could hear them).

So, one day, Stephen came round with the rat guy and told the rat guy that he was useless and that he should lose his job if he can’t actually catch the rodents. This is all true, of course, but I felt embarrassed at seeing the guy being shouted at. It was what was needed though.

The next day the rat guy came round and checked. He asked me not to speak to Stephen again if I had rodents. I explained that it was true that something needed to be done because the rodents weren’t being caught and I was able to hear them above my kitchen every evening. Clearly stressed, Shizu (the rat guy) told me that he might lose his job and that we needed to keep my rat problem a secret between him and me. I again said that the problem nevertheless needed to be solved.

So, despite my initial embarrassment, I have to say that Stephen’s approach worked (thank you, Stephen!). The next day, Shizu went into the area above my bathroom. I have no idea how he got there, but I believe he did go there, because he said the area went right through to the air conditioning in my bedroom. This seems plausible, since when the rats were in my flat when I first arrived in El Andalous over five years ago (see those blogs if you haven't read them), I thought I saw a tail dangling down from my air conditioning unit. In retrospect, though, I do wonder if at that stage I was hallucinating with fear and sheer exhaustion through lack of sleep. Anyway, Shizu said he put some concrete over the areas in that bit above my bathroom where the rodents might be coming in.

He put some more sticky mats down in the area above my kitchen to trap any rodents that may still enter in and then the next day brought some concrete with him to try to block any holes in the area above my kitchen. He even brought his own ladder instead of using mine. Once he had stuck his head through the opening into the area above my kitchen and looked with a torch, he managed to find a hole (with a gasp of surprise) and blocked it. At this point I gave him a baksheesh (tip) for the first time to reward him for possibly actually making a difference. So, hopefully Stephen’s bad cop and my nice cop routine will send the right message.

The rodent noises stopped for a few nights but then I heard one enter from a different direction. I called him again, and he moved all the sticky mats so that they covered that entire area where I now thought they were coming in and then said that if he caught one, he would come back with some concrete and try to block where they were coming from. Unfortunately, I had to go into town the day he was going to come with the concrete and then the next day was my final day, so I’m not sure if he’s actually done that. I’ll no doubt find out when I’m next back in Egypt.

Anyway, this is a good example of what it’s like trying to get things done over here – you get multiple excuses and no action and really, to get stuff done, you need to act very angry. Egyptians are quite loud when they speak to each other and often sound as if they are having arguments, so I think this is possibly the only communication style that is respected by many.