One Night In Zurich...

There’s an old saying in sport that “what goes on tour stays on tour”. And I’d like to preface this entry with that remark to ease the minds of those concerned and protect the good (looking) people of Zurich.

Our final night on this adventure was spent - as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now - in Zurich. Those that have been paying attention over the previous weeks will know Switzerland is a multi-lingual paradise; and Zurich is a stronghold of the Swiss-German dialect. I’ll fess up now and say that my German is worse than my French. I know a little Afrikaans but German… well, every word seems to be a dozen consonants broken up by one of those vowel things with an Oompa Loompa above it. One word I now recognise in German is “fetische” – that’s because our hotel was in the red light district of Zurich.

There was little time for my favourite hobby of watching American TV shows over-dubbed in foreign languages but I should quickly mention that Schnipp/Tuck was hilarious and German Big Brother makes British Big Brother look like Australian Big Brother if ya-know-what-I-mean? If you don’t I know a German word to describe it.

Having dumped our bags and discovered our hotel was a whips crack away from Switzerland’s version of K Rd it was off to a traditional beer hall for a Bavarian feast and, you guessed it, beer. Whilst struggling with some sort of sausage omelette which was more meat than egg we were harassed by a Hen’s Night that offered a rare insight into another Swiss-German tradition. The poor bride-to-be had spent her afternoon baking phallic shaped biscuits which she then had to sell to innocent bystanders on her final night of freedom. The catch being she was not allowed to buy her friends a drink with money from her own pocket but instead get her mates suitably sloshed with her biscuit-baking profits.

I should have bought a biscuit because it would’ve been the cheapest thing on sale in all of Zurich. One of two lasting memories of Zurich is that it’s the most expensive city you’ll come across. 20CHF (Swiss Francs) will buy you a gin and tonic – that’s over $20NZ! A five minute taxi ride to the other side of the lake to Club Aqua cost 15CHF and it was 30CHF just to get in! If Zurich is the most expensive city I’ve come across it’s also the most beautiful… or more precisely the women are the most beautiful in world (that being the second lasting memory of my 18 hours in Zurich). I figure the only way the locals can afford to live in Zurich is by becoming a chiropractor, thus earning a small fortune from tourists who put their necks and backs out from repeatedly turning to look at girls. Alas, a good majority of Zurich girls were in said club and at over 30CHF a pop there was no way Mal and I were paying to go in. My only hope was to play the “DJ Bobo” card. But fearing the bouncers may ask me to speak German or, worse still, dance like Captain Jack Sparrow we turned around and walked all the way back from whence we came.

Walking 10 miles through the dark, medieval streets of Zurich isn’t that bad. It’s a good chance to relearn your Roman numerals whilst playing “Guess How Old The Building Is…” Fun as that was it didn’t compare to hanging grimly to a bank manager on the back of a scooter, racing from club to club through Zurich’s back alleys, with Mal trying to run alongside. Malcolm and I have been in some pretty hairy moments on golf carts before but with all due respect to the Ngamotu Links in Taranaki this mode of transport had a Continental charm all of its own.

And with that it was time say so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodnight… oops - arrivederci, and au revoir. Next week: something a million miles away from the sassy sophistication of Switzerland. Obviously not literally a million miles away but tenting on a Welsh beach hasn’t quite got the allure of la Suisse.