Sundays

On the left you see the view that we have where we are living currently. It's out there, it's rural, it's country life at its best. The bells of the village church greet us, the smell of cow dung reminds us that this is, well, as I said, rural. And its a hell of way to the next outpost of civilization (i.e. a city).

And the best day to enjoy the country side is Sunday. Sundays are beautifully lazy. There is nothing to do, because shops are closed and the next larger place, Aarau, is too far away to justify the effort of getting there. And so you enjoy the joy of doing nothing. Except maybe reading the Sunday newspaper and of course having a great breakfast. On the left you see Esthers siblings and their partners doing what I just described. Nothing. On a Sunday, of course.

At one point though the itching starts. How can you sit around for a whole day? I guess in former times they could, but now, after sitting in front of your computer for the whole week, you can't. And so you go for a walk. Which is also very Swiss and very popular. God I hated those walks when I was young! Why can't we just stay inside and play? No, walk. Fresh air, a little bit of exercise and all that s**t. The problem with those walks was the following: they were unofficially classified as "Spaziergang", which translates to walk. And not as "Wanderung", which would be a hike. The difference? On a hike, you would take some food with you, chocolate, bread, an apple. On a walk, you don't. And what happens? The walk is indistinguishable from a hike! Same duration, same distance. You are starving! Maybe, bust just maybe, somebody had sweets in their pocket, that helped. But it was still terrible. In the meantime things have changed. And so we leave the house, walk through fields of wheat and poppies to the next forest or hill.

Walking is a serious business in Switzerland, by the way. They gridded the whole country with a tight network of trails. Every 15 minutes, there is signpost, indicating the next bus or trains stops, villages, mountain peaks and so forth. Impossible to get lost (but ask Esther, hehe).

I think this one of the things I somehow missed. The part of the Swiss country that is not know to tourist: rolling hills and beech forests. They are gorgeous. Because they are Swiss beech forests they are heavily managed. There is a forest floor (empty), trees (beeches, as I said), and that's it. Well, beech forest, what do you expect? No such thing as a fern tree in-between. Funnily enough thought, this renders those forests very elegant. The trunks of the trees are grey and slender, they raise to a green canopy and create a feeling as if you are standing in a large cathedral. In the summertime, the smoke of a wood fire (check my entry on cervelats!) will drift through the forest, sunrays cut through the clouds and you hear the faint sound of laughing children. But not now, I guess the weather is not right.

And so we return to the village, pass tidy houses with tidy gardens (and comment on them) and return home for coffee and cake.