I arrived in Zurich in a haze, not fully prepared to spend a 20 hour layover in the largest city in Switzerland. I did not expect to find myself impressed by the city’s artistic palate and approachability.
A smoky, windy mist meets my face as I emerge from the metro station in Zurich. Church bells ring precisely at 11:00 am, not a single one unpunctual. Escaping the Bise wind, I walk into the Law Library by Santiago Calatrava. Understanding my not-so-perfect German, a kind librarian brings me to not just a reprieve, a warm place to read a book, but a terra wonder. Wooden curves branching with books stretch to the ceiling, making me feel as if I am in the hollowed trunk of a massive tree.
These contemporary buildings mixed with the Baroque, painted in a thick layer of wealth, can only exist in timed bliss in Zurich. The city smells luxurious. Is that Chanel no. 5 or Chanel no. 19?
I spend the entirety of my budget on a small salad from Spar for lunch, and three chocolates (I bought two, but the chocolatier gave me another one for free). I am now ready to take explore the city, from the steel tram rails stamped into the street to the window flower boxes hanging below hand painted wooden shutters.
I’ve struck gold in Zurich, every museum and gallery I enter has free admission today. I continue to find silver, sapphire, saltwater pearls within the exhibitions themselves. In the first museum I visit, Kunsthaus de Zurich, I discover what is now my favorite painting, The Two Friends by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. I rest my eyes from the Chagalls and Cezannes in this temple of Capitalism (aptly named by a google reviewer) to wander into the Old Botanical Garden. I eat my 13 € bonbons, the cacao as rich and polished as Zurich itself.
Zurich has surprised me at every turn (aside from the expected high prices), the weather itself turns on a dime. Sun stretches over the Zurichsee, illuminating the glassy water. Churches with clocks have never looked more exquisitely unique than in this moment. The Bise wind whispers in dry slivers, “tschau, tschüss”.
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