Lift Up Your Hearts!

We slept late this morning but otherwise showed more effects from all our walking yesterday than from jet lag.  Janet gave up her bedroom to us and is sleeping on the couch, so she awoke early with her host family, but had no trouble falling back to sleep.  Fortunately she was awake when the call came from the airport:  Porter's suitcase had arrived and would be delivered between ten and eleven this morning if someone would be here to receive it.  Janet handled the entire conversation in German, by the way.

This is what I didn't know about the Swiss yesterday at the airport:  They don't deliver an item "sometime tomorrow between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.," and when they say someone will arrive between ten and eleven, he will.  In this case, right at 10:30.

So we had a leisurely morning, received Porter's lost luggage, and had the rest of the day to explore Basel.  Once again, I recommend you read Janet's version of the day, but here are my own thoughts.

We bought our Tageskarten and went everywhere via a combination of tram, bus, and lots of walking.  It's hard to remember that Basel is a city—Switzerland's third largest, in fact.  Although it is not as clean as I remember Swiss cities being in 1969, it is still remarkably so.  It is a peaceful place, and quiet.  While we were visiting I noticed the noise only once, and that was at a construction site.  No car radios blaring obscene lyrics over a booming bass.  No horns blasting.  No incessant radio/television noise, no background music, no Muzak.  Only an occasional street musician, and that's a pleasant sound and never loud.  Janet is right that the Swiss at first appear unfriendly as they go about intent on their own business, but I tend to be focused like that myself, so I didn't take offense.  There's a lot we can learn from the Swiss about city living, but I must also remember that, third largest city or not, it is still only about the size of Huntsville, Alabama, considerably smaller than Orlando, and only four times the size of Altamonte Springs!  There's more than one reason why it doesn't feel like a city.

We ended up spending much more time at the Münster Cathedral than Janet had planned.  Several days later, after spending most of the day at the Louvre, ours sensibilities glazed over and we learned to take our sights at a faster pace.  But this was very early in the trip, and there is much to see at the Münster.

The grave of Jacob Bernoulli, for instance.  The Bernoulli family was replete with famous mathematicians, though Jacob's brother, Daniel, is the one who makes airplanes fly and sailboats sail.

Erasmus is also buried there at the Münster.  Another one of Basel's famous sons is mathematician Leonhard Euler, but he is buried elsewhere.

The crypt was closed, but we could see some of the Romanesque frescos through the bars.  The sign said it is closed at certain times to protect them; as far as we could tell, this was one of the times it should have been open, but then again even Janet's German isn't always up to technicalities.

This is one of the two towers.  The other, behind, is shrouded in scaffolding because it is being repaired.  One or the other of the towers is always under repair, because of the red sandstone of which they are constructed is deteriorates rapidly. Note the sundial.

The stairs to the top of the tower are often narrow and difficult, and probably dangerous.  They certainly felt that way to me, though I'm not at my best when dealing with heights.  Nonetheless, for a small fee (and no liability waiver!) one is welcome to climb them, so climb them we did.

Graffiti isn't so bad when it's two and a half centuries old.

The tower was our favorite part of the visit!  The fact that such a thing can no longer be done in the U. S. (thanks to overly cautious insurance companies in fear of overly zealous lawyers) certainly added to the pleasure.  Here are some views from the top.

Next stop, lunch!  The Marktplatz features a daily farmers' market of sorts with colorful tents and luscious food.  We shared a lunch of wonderful sausage, cheese, and bread, as well as many samples along the way.  The vendors would cut off a sample and hold it out, expecting us to remove it with our fingers, which took a bit of getting used to, accustomed as I am to food handling being done here with gloves and single-use toothpicks, sample cups, and tasting spoons.  I wish I had been able to be bold (or subtle) enough to take a picture of one Swiss lady who was also eating her lunch at Markplatz, deftly cutting off slices and conveying them to her mouth with her pocketknife—a Swiss Army knife, of course!

Lunch was followed by a bus ride and a goodly walk to the Roman ruins of Augusta Raurica.  Yes, those Romans got around.  It was exciting for me because, unlike Porter and Janet, I'd never seen Roman ruins in person.  All of us were disappointed that much of the area had been restored, however.  Thinking—always!—like a homeschooler, I could see the educational advantages, but as a tourist I would rather have been able to be certain what was old and what was new.  I'm pretty sure the remains of the baths below are old.  The crane is new.

Here we're underground, in the well area.  It was cool and damp and felt wonderful to us because we were hot from hiking in the sun, but it did give me a hint as to how miserable it might be to be chained in a dungeon even on the best of days.

I took these two pictures because I love unexpected connections.  Note the reference to Sebastian Münster's Cosmographia in the first picture, and the illustration it refers to in the second.  You see, I had heard of it before….  Not because I'm a well-educated person who naturally had learned about such a famous book, but because I love good mystery stories, and the Cosmographia features prominently in Dorothy Sayers' Peter Wimsey story, The Learned Adventure of the Dragon's Head.  Don't ask me to explain my memory; I can actually enjoy reading mysteries multiple times (if they were worth reading once) because I've forgotten so much of what happened, yet details like this one will stick with me clearly and forever.  This Münster, too, was a son of Basel, by the way—not born here, but lived much of his life and died here.  He really should be buried in the Münster Cathedral with Bernoulli and Erasmus, but if he is, I don't know about it.

On our walk to the ruins, we came upon this sign, which serves as an excuse to mention the often-wordless signs here.  It's quite a good idea when people might not speak the language, but of course one still must understand the sign language.  We are accustomed to a slash through the red circle indicating that something is forbidden, but in Switzerland (and maybe Europe in general) it's the red circle that is indicative of taboo.  For example, in the lower sign, an American might infer that dogs are allowed, whereas I believe it is really saying, no dogs except on a leash.  The top sign was a mystery and I interpreted it as saying, "Whatever you were thinking about doing, don't."  But it turns out it's more like a "No Vehicles" sign, not nearly so interesting.

Janet had arranged for us to have dinner with a couple from her church, but half of them ended up with the flu and, generous as they are, this was one thing they did not want to share.  So the other half took us on a tour of Riehen, their village, where we saw many things from mansions of those who made their money in Basel's chemical industry to beautiful scenes like this:

The Foundation Beyeler museum is in Riehen, and was featuring a special Edvard Munch exhibit, but it was closed at that hour and we never did make it back.  Ah, well, we did see fair amount of other art on this vacation….

A lovely bakery provided rest and refreshment.  Take a look at the coffee cups in this picture.  They represent a confection that's more dessert than drink:  layers of espresso, chocolate, cream, and caramel.

It was great to have the opportunity to talk with Nils, who is a native-born Swiss, though I understand that even so he is not long allowed to forget that he is from Bern, not Basel, and doesn't speak the language right.  :)  We learned a lot about Swiss culture, good and bad.  Question:  Why do Swiss people seem so pessimistic?  Answer:  Because they expect everything to be perfect, and are therefore always disappointed.  After a few days of experiencing the transportation system, I understood a little better.  It very nearly is perfect!  When they say a tram, bus, or train will arrive at 6:15, it does.  Being three minutes late is a shocking occurrence, and more than that a catastrophe!

Nils assured us that what I had experienced nearly forty years ago is still true:  the lovely public fountains in Switzerland are safe to drink from.  To someone from a state that is increasingly worried about its water supply, the idea of fresh water continually pouring out of the fountains and draining away seems wasteful, but it's wonderful to experience.  One of my less pleasant memories of my 1969 trip to Europe was of being perpetually thirsty, except in Switzerland.  We were cautioned not to drink the water in France or in Italy—though I was thirsty enough to break the rule in both places, and had no trouble—and it was never offered at a drink when we ate.  There were wine and coffee in abundance, which I suppose should have been a daring trip to a group of high school girls from the U. S., but I didn't like either and they certainly didn't quench my thirst.  Even on the rare occasions when we ate at restaurants instead of youth hostels and convents, it wasn't much better. Bottled water was not readily available, and ice nonexistent.

Oddly enough, I found myself thirsty on this trip as well.  Bottles of water met our needs well on our hikes, but mealtime was another story.  For all I know, Europeans are shocked at the waste in America because restaurants provide as much water as you want, even if you don't ask for it.  We ate in many restaurants and cafés this trip, and I believe only once were we provided a pitcher of water.  Water is considered a drink; you buy it as you would a soda, a beer, or a glass of wine, and it can be as expensive, too.  So I almost never had enough to drink at mealtimes.  It's easy to become dehydrated on vacation, I've found, and this one was no exception.  Except for our stay at the château in France, where our American-born hostess had installed a modern refrigerator with ice and cold water dispenser.  Ah, bliss!  But once again I am jumping ahead.

We capped the evening with a concert at Kartäuserkirche, a beautiful old church.  Sponsored by the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis (Janet's school), it was entitled Der Liebesschmerz:  Guillaum do Machaut und seine Vorgänger.  (The last part means "Guillaum de Machaut and his predecessors," but der Libesschmerz appears to be "the dear pain," so maybe Janet can suggest something more reasonable.)  At any rate, this was a concert of Medieval music and featured a singer and a host of odd instruments including a fidel and a dudelsack.  The featured work was Machaut's Loyauté que point ne delay.  It was a delightful piece, and quite a test of endurance for the singer, but really, the protagonist needs to get a life.  He goes on and on and on about his lost love—no, it's worse than that.  He's not really singing about his love, but about how the loss affects him.  Narcissus had nothing on this guy.

Here's another of those surprises Europe apparently has around every corner.  This lovely lady is positioned in front of a lovely picture of Basel in older times.  The painting is just sitting there, exposed to the elements, in a former boathouse.

Back home again, to collapse into bed after another full and satisfying day.  Not satiating, not yet….