 Next day we meet up with Maya's sister for an afternoon walk in the forest of Charte de Boudry, an hour drive from Yverdon which could've been shorter if Daniel hadn't been kind enough to let me have the experience on the infamous Autobahn. I thought I'd gotten my groove back driving a stick shift in Iceland. THINK AGAIN. Matter of fact, KEEP THINKING. Don't just do things, THINK before you do it. THINK HARD. Especially when driving. All the beautiful things I saw; like the flowers and the streams and the butterflies and the canyons but I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, but the KIDS - these two adorable creatures that came along with us. One is a talkative rascal that never lets my lens catch him without a smile and a pose. Another is a shy pixie that never leaves her moms side, but did not whimp out on this pretty lengthy walk that worked my ass to sore. I love the sound of French language, especially spoken by children as I mentioned in my earlier post from Paris where I spotted a few Asian kids chatting with each other in French, but that probably is just that I don't understand what they're saying. Once I find out they're throwing fits and being unreasonable - nah they'd still be adorable. They win. Especially the boy, the future-model who was at one point trying to tell me about the video games he plays through Maya as a translator, kept melting my iron-frozen heart every time he goes "YEAH" in American accent. I completely lost my shit when, at the end of our hike, we got to the sign that read "STOP! Cafe du Pont" even the shy princess started yelling "STOP! Cafe du Pont!" which led all of us to scream "STOP! Cafe du Pont!" and the best part of it is that once you start you cant "STOP! Cafe du Pont!" then chuckle like back when you used to goof around yelling something like "STOP! Cafe du Pont!" Maybe its that my stay was too short. Out of all the places I visited on this trip, I had the least amount of stress in Swizterland. I'd like to think that I have grown tougher, but in truth it was Maya, Daniel, Laura and all the people that I got to meet and guided me through. Especially my Circlesong friend; after 5 years of almost no contact she gives me this gift of knowledge, hospitality and, above all, sincerity. The last night here and the morning that I got on the train back to Germany, we discussed some tough topics that, at the points in our respective lives, are unavoidable. In reality we had barely talked, since during those 6 days in Circlesongs we were just two among a few hundreds trying to take in as much of Bobby McFerrin brilliance while avoiding some awkward new-age beliefs and finding comfort in each other's company. Five years later, neither of us was not as playful and goofy as we were then, but that comfort was still there. Once in a while, very rarely for me, you find someone like that.  Once last view; As the train heads towards Biel, thinking about the people and the places I just left, I caught a tiny glimpse of the Alps with a man in a lone boat floating on Bielersee. Kind of reminiscent of the infamous Fredo on Lake Tahoe shot from The Godfather II, but not sinister with the same feeling of serenity which I couldn't help but associate with the twilight of a mans life. To be perfectly honest, I saw myself. I have told people when I die, I wish to be cremated then my ash be thrown into the air from Keys View in Joshua Tree, with Bohemian Rhapsody in its entirety blasting from the portable PA, hopefully attendees laughing, singing along and head banging. I realize that it is illegal, so now my wish is my body to be left on a boat floating on whatever lake I will find myself close by at that point, ideally with a view of mountains nearby, with Bohemian Rhapsody in its entirety blasting from the portable PA, hopefully attendees laughing, singing along and headbanging. I realize that this also is illegal. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Mountain in Alps, or a lakeside of Neuchatel. Or anywhere in Switzerland. Maybe it's that my stay was too short. Or maybe it's that everything that I ate and drank took me to the flavor city. And maybe it's that every walk on any of these streets and pathways offered something breathtakingly beautiful. Maybe it's that a little bit of history I learned about this country fascinated me. Or maybe that every person that I met was courteous, sincere, smart or all of the above, and maybe there are similarities between the Swiss and my people.   Neuchâtel is somewhat of a tourist destination, a city not as modern as Zurich and probably more affordable than Montreux. You see why the minute you arrive; the city is home to hundreds of architectural treasures with magnificent Lac de Neuchâtel and the distant Alps as the background. The city hall where the current parliament holds meetings also offers an a hour-long tour educating visitors the historic significance of the building and their very direct political system. Maya used to work as a tour guide here, and hooked me up with a freebie by her old co-worker. The amount of knowledge shared by our two guides was overwhelming, but my main takeaway was that the Swiss citizens are very actively engaged in local politics. None of the members of parliament is a full time politician; they could be a baker, a school teacher, or a performing artist/theatre writer/director like Laura who has done two terms in the Parliament of Zurich. Maya is considering her future run for Neuchâtel. This does not guarantee that the system is free of corruption. Every governor gets a portrait after their term; either a photograph or a painting. One had a white dove behind him. The last governor had a black ominous cloud hanging over his head, presumably due to some controversy he was involved in. What balls on the painter, and the governor too for accepting it. Let's talk food now; take Rivella, a national soda; it's made of dairy whey which is a byproduct of cheese-making process. Some dude in the early 50s came up with an idea to make a soda out of something that was deemed a waste and dumped into rivers in the US, now it has the second biggest share in the Swiss soft drink market after Coke, and are distributed in Netherlands, Germany, France, Austria, Liechtenstein and Luxembourg. The taste of a sip while sitting at a table riverside of Limmat with the background of a local elderly country trio ripping on "Margaritaville" remains vivid in my mind. It was cemented when another elderly gentleman from the audience got up and air-guitar-battled a bald guitarist. An epic moment. The cheesecake (sigh) I had at BACKbAR (Maya's college-era favorite), random loaves of bread we picked up at a co-op, also the ice cream from a tiny shop behind the gorgeous alley in Neuchâtel were all memorable, but 2 meals stand out; various cheeses that we acquired at a farmers' market in Neuchâtel with the guidance of Daniel, a Sicilian French hiphop producer turned a painter who now resides in Yverdon-Ies-Bains with Maya. As one would expect from a French-speaking region, they have basically everything that Paris has and when consumed on a high-quality bread, sitting on a bench looking out to Lac de Neuchâtel was nothing short of divine. Wish I remembered names. Another momerable meal was a bit more labor-intensive; Maya had told me that I was invited to a barbecue for her best friend Pierre's birthday, expecting some grillin' in a backyard, potluck style. The first half was WAY OFF; we drove up the hill to a lookout above the town of Neuchâtel where we set up a campfire by unloading a hatchback full of logwood, then up a few dozen steps then a walk to the lookout. That wasn't enough apparently, so Pierre and Daniel went and chopped up more logs to bring up the hill. Pierre's girlfriend, an Argentinian Swiss with whom I had a conversation regarding the blurring identity of transplants (as we both have spent the same amount in our birthplaces and the current residences) chuckled and said "Welcome to Switzerland, we make you work for food." They even demanded that I play some guitar, so much so that they went back to their place to bring me one. The meal that followed, however, was worth every calorie that I had burned. Both moms of the couple brought in their homemade dishes which you knew was gonna be good, and they always say "oh this is so easy to make" which tends not to be the case, except most of these were. Gazpacho in cups, olive-oil-soaked bell peppers, dill-marinated salmon, mushrooms with tuna, quinoa salad and on and on. I had reached my limit by the time the Argentinian steak and fish-on-a-twig went on the grill, but I obviously couldn't resist. Then it started to make sense; I mean, when you have access to such a wide range of fresh ingredients, you really don't have to do much "cooking." Easy does it. Let the good thing be what it is; good.
There might've been a jam involving me trying to figure out the changes to Hava Nagila while Maya and the ladies sang three part harmony, but at that point there had been all the food that's mentioned above, beers consumed as water, wine and then some goddamn whiskey. What do you know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ that fucking guy always shows up wherever I go. Peace. |
AuthorSoundchaser and a two-time Independent Music Awards finalist. Show me the receipts of your donation to @dwcweb @ltsc.cdc or @la_littletokyo Small Biz Relief Fund and I'll gift any or all of my recordings. Categories
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