So this is it. On my last day in Switzerland, I had a choice to make. What to do with my last day. I did not want to go to Zurich again, although it was close and cheapest to get to by train, and several others were planning to go there with the Swiss buddies. I had already spent a full day in Zurich the first weekend and had seen all that I had wanted to. Instead, I felt drawn to go back to Bern, the capital city. I had maybe spent three hours there when our group had initially passed through on the trek across Switzerland and it bugged me that what I did see of the city was not much more than its touristy facade. Did I mention it had been raining heavily as well? So it wasn't even a very good facade. No. I wanted to take my time in a city for once.
There was one drawback (ok, two): first, the cheapest train tickets I could buy were just shy of CHF 100, round trip. This brings me to the second drawback: no one wanted to go with me because the train tickets were outrageously expensive, not to mention the supersaver tickets would only be valid on the specific train at the specific time they were purchased for, which added an entire new level of stress to the endeavor (train stations are confusing if you have never encountered one before and cannot read or speak German).
So I steeled myself for the outrageous and bought the tickets.
There was one drawback (ok, two): first, the cheapest train tickets I could buy were just shy of CHF 100, round trip. This brings me to the second drawback: no one wanted to go with me because the train tickets were outrageously expensive, not to mention the supersaver tickets would only be valid on the specific train at the specific time they were purchased for, which added an entire new level of stress to the endeavor (train stations are confusing if you have never encountered one before and cannot read or speak German).
So I steeled myself for the outrageous and bought the tickets.
That was one decision I do not regret. Going alone to Bern was so refreshing after being in a group constantly for three weeks. And even though it was weird not hearing the sound of my own voice for the entire day, I had a good time and believe I accomplished my goal of breaking past the touristy facade that left me feeling so icky before.
I woke up and it was a bright, sunny day, forecasted to be in the 70's. I enjoyed breakfast alone, just me and a bunch of Swiss dudes down in the cafeteria at seven in the morning. I am now going to take a moment and rage about the coffee. I seriously cannot get over the coffee. I know you're probably confused because I don't even drink coffee. But for some reason, I tried it and the rest is history. I don't think it was especially good, but it made me happy. I don't know what it was. The Ovaltine, maybe? Whatever. I miss it.
After breakfast, I got to the train station a half an hour early for my 8:25 a.m. IC train. I found the proper platform, and even figured out where to stand for the 2nd class car so I would not mistakenly board a 1st class car and have an awkward, naive-American moment with the ticket staff when they came around to check tickets. Proud of that one.
After breakfast, I got to the train station a half an hour early for my 8:25 a.m. IC train. I found the proper platform, and even figured out where to stand for the 2nd class car so I would not mistakenly board a 1st class car and have an awkward, naive-American moment with the ticket staff when they came around to check tickets. Proud of that one.
The train comes and I get a nice spot on the second level. It's only an hour and a half ride from Winterthur to Bern, and it goes quickly. I cannot see much in terms of scenic Swiss countryside, even from the upper level of the train. I discovered that taking the train is a lot like driving on the highway in the U.S. The tracks are built through parts of town that can't afford to do anything about it, and there are plenty of privacy barriers and concrete walls, most if not all of which are plastered with graffiti. I am not joking when I say that there is probably not one clean slab of concrete to be found anywhere along those tracks, except for maybe in the tunnels where you can't see anyway. But one funny thing I noticed about the graffiti was the tag "HELLO TRASH" everywhere. I googled it, but its meaning is still a mystery to me.
Finally, I arrived in Bern, pulled out my map, and tried to figure out where I was. But first I attempted to find a wash closet, a.k.a. bathroom. And boy, did I find one. It was called Mr. McClean, cost CHF 2 to enter, and was worth every franc. It upheld its name so well that I would have felt comfortable sleeping on the floor next to the toilet. It was so clean due to the staff who were there to clean each stall after it was used once. Little traffic lights above each stall indicated if it was occupied (red), had just been used (yellow), or was clean (green). This was why it was such a shock to come back to the airport bathrooms in Atlanta. Like the Swiss gentleman I met on the bus after the farewell dinner told me, "Everybody comes here and just says that it is so clean. So fucking clean."
I was a bit frustrated at how long it took me to find Mr. McClean (as well as how long it took me to figure out how to get out of there. Turns out it was the same way I came in. The glass, waist-high gates were automatic when you approached them from the inside.), so I speed walked out of the train station and started heading for the old city center. I come across the parliament building along the way. There was a neat little market happening in the square there with lots of flowers and produce for sale.
I had planned to visit the apartment where Einstein had lived during the time when he was developing his special theory of relativity. However, before I got there, I found myself at the history museum, the whole second floor of which is dedicated to the man. So I went there instead, taking advantage of the student discount. I tried watching the "relativity theory in four simple steps" module. I still don't understand. Ha. Also, did you know that Einstein, although unreligious for the most part, identified strongly with the Jewish culture and heritage, so much so that he was offered the position of president of Israel in 1952?! However, he turned it down citing that he did not know enough about the world of politics to accept the position. President!
In the afternoon I visited the Rosengarten. It was quite the hike to get there (we're talking San Fran or steeper), but worth it. After taking some pictures, I found a spot on the grass and people watched. Then I just explored the city. I put my feet in the River Rhine, admired the bridges and the color of the water, wandered some backstreets, and found a path along the river with no safety rail, just the occasional stone staircase leading into the water, which I followed until I got back near the train station.
It takes me an hour to find and decide on a place to eat. When I do, they don't speak English very well. But it worked out that I wandered looking for food for so long because the restaurant did not start serving food until the time I got there anyway. I order a water with no gas, and the waiter smiles and says, "you mean withOUT gas." Yes, same thing. I couldn't tell, but I think he was laughing at me for something, whether it was something I said, or the fact that I was American, or my hair (I had a pretty good Wilma Flintstone bun on top of my head because of the heat and I did not realize how ridiculous I looked until I saw my reflection in the window across the sidewalk). It was kind of awkward because I still do not understand what was so funny. Whatever it was, it was amusing to him and his coworker. The chicken caesar salad I ate was probably the best I've had. Maybe it was the sun, but I was famished and ate the whole thing. I swear they could have used an entire head of lettuce to make it. Two French girls got seated at the table next to me and ordered Red Bulls. The best part was how the waiter served the drinks in tumblers with straws. It made me realize what an odd color Red Bull is.
By the time I headed back to the train station, a storm appeared to be rolling in and my third and final remaining camera battery had just breathed its last. The train station was hopping when I arrived there. It seemed to be the place to be on a Saturday night. To add to the atmosphere, there was a DJ from a radio station right in the middle of it all, playing dance music for everyone below the arrival and departure boards. That's something I wish we had in America.
I wouldn't have minded talking with a stranger to pass the time on the train ride back, but the young man sitting across from me was too intent on using his hand-held device with headphones the ENTIRE WAY to Zurich, where he got off. But before he did, he made himself a cigarette and didn't even offer me one. Oh well, I'll forgive him.
I get back to Winterthur around 9:00pm, stop at the gelato cart (spontaneous!), get some tiramisu gelato for myself, and proceed to catch the number 7 bus back to the guesthouse. When I board the bus, I am pleasantly surprised to see a good number of my fellow American engineering students on the bus as well, back from their own day trips. The whole way back we swap stories and relax. No one wants to pack to get on the plane the next morning. But alas, all good things must come to an end. And I think I could not have asked for a better ending.
By the time I headed back to the train station, a storm appeared to be rolling in and my third and final remaining camera battery had just breathed its last. The train station was hopping when I arrived there. It seemed to be the place to be on a Saturday night. To add to the atmosphere, there was a DJ from a radio station right in the middle of it all, playing dance music for everyone below the arrival and departure boards. That's something I wish we had in America.
I wouldn't have minded talking with a stranger to pass the time on the train ride back, but the young man sitting across from me was too intent on using his hand-held device with headphones the ENTIRE WAY to Zurich, where he got off. But before he did, he made himself a cigarette and didn't even offer me one. Oh well, I'll forgive him.
I get back to Winterthur around 9:00pm, stop at the gelato cart (spontaneous!), get some tiramisu gelato for myself, and proceed to catch the number 7 bus back to the guesthouse. When I board the bus, I am pleasantly surprised to see a good number of my fellow American engineering students on the bus as well, back from their own day trips. The whole way back we swap stories and relax. No one wants to pack to get on the plane the next morning. But alas, all good things must come to an end. And I think I could not have asked for a better ending.