Then Winter's Head Explodes

As every American and European alike knows, Europeans get a lot more vacation. In some cases, they also work shorter hours (for example, yesterday's Intl Herald Tribune reported on France's government encountering difficulties trying to re-lengthen its 10-year-old, 35-hour work week law, with half the problem being that the government itself doesn't appear to want it lengthened). In Switzerland as in many European countries, statutory minimum vacation time is four weeks but most employers grant five, as the holiday gods intended (by the way, were you aware that the statutory minimum vacation time in the USA is exactly...none? Most employers grant two weeks to employees of less than five years, but that's just from the goodness of their hearts). In any event, the U.S.'s Draconian vacation policies are a favorite "ice breaker" conversation topic raised by total strangers in Europe upon learning that we're American, a close second favorite topic only to U.S. foreign politics (usually the conversations last too briefly to include religion and sex...darn!).

Similarly where U.S. companies usually observe about 10 public holiday days per year, largely back-end loaded (Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas), Zürich employers for example observe about 15 holidays but largely front-end loaded (many religious days approaching and following Easter). I say "Zürich employers" and not "Swiss employers" because per the wonderfully decentralized Swiss system, the cantonal (county) governments call the shots so holidays apply on a cantonal not a national basis. Canton Zürich has already observed 6.5 holidays in 2008, with the absolute best being the '0.5' and uniquely the city of Zürich's...

Not a 10-minute walk from our front door and not 2 minutes from Steph's commuter train station, just off the southeast tip of Lake Zürich near where Hobbes and I prowl many mornings, lies a dirt fairground area called Sechseläutenplatz, named in honor of Zürich's spring holiday Sechseläuten (ZEX-zuh-loy-ten), celebrated on that spot for the past 100 years or so. On a mid-April Monday about five weeks ago, most Zürich employers granted the afternoon off for observance of the event--specifically, welcoming spring by exploding the head of Old Man Winter.

I took the top pic from outside the train station late that afternoon; the neighborhood was packed and the crowd is gawking towards the celebration Platz (you can click a pic to enlarge it). There had been a citywide children's parade Sunday afternoon which we watched briefly, followed by an adult parade earlier Monday with adults and children alike still adorned in their colorful historic guildhall dress costumes (left).

Stationed in the Platz is a two-story wooden pyre, an oversized version of the kind for burning someone at the stake. The victim on top is a 10-foot-tall snowman effigy, a symbol of winter called the Böögg (Böögg is a classic Swiss-German dialect word, there's no official written form so they just make it up; Böögg is a cognate with our bogeyman). Steph, Hobbes and I had seen Herr Böögg close up on Sunday (last rites?) near the parade; he's a giant, stuffed, intricately decorated and fairly jolly-looking traditional snowman (corncob pipe, button nose, etc.) with one major yet imperceptible difference--you guessed it, his head is full of fireworks! What better way to celebrate the last gasp of winter and inevitable onset of spring than by burning a giant snowman at the stake until his head explodes?!? I can't think of one (if you can I'd love to hear it).

Of course, the amount of time from the initial pyre lighting to full Böögg head-explosion foretells the coming summer's weather--the quicker the fireworks, the sunnier and warmer the summer (groundhog Punxsutawney Phil has the easy job, eh?). Bad news for summer 2008 as the defiant Böögg lasted over 26 minutes, apparently owing to some confusion with his head burning relatively quietly away from his neck but the neck then exploding. Scientific stuff, no doubt. Luckily as seen here, the Künzli Fleisch- and Wurstmobile made an appearance so that no one in the crowd waited 26 minutes without a sausage. And I can say that when those fireworks go, they are loud!

Chalk up Zürich's crazy Sechseläuten as one of those brilliant local-culture experiences only obtainable by living overseas. And in the end, who doesn't appreciate the afternoon off work to watch someone else's head explode for a change?

Is That Your Cologne?

Rewinding to the first week in April, Steph traveled to Mainz, Germany that Wed-Fri for work. Although it turned out that Mainz--a kind of nearby little brother to larger Frankfurt--was in its own right a lovely enough small city situated on the Rhine, we had already planned to capitalize on her German locale by spending the weekend in Cologne, another 100 miles or so further north. Of course, Cologne--or Köln in Deutsch--has a Hyatt and we only ever stay in cities with Hyatts.

I boarded a train Friday around noon, intent on spending the next five hours absorbed in German studies. Unfortunately the normally reliable vaunted Swiss-clockwork train system failed me and, missing my high-speed train connection in Bern, I instead wound up on a slower regional intercity train, extending the total trip 6.5 hours. Hmph. More time to master German, eh? Despite my ticket reservation on that other missed train, I soon realized that booked European train travel is nothing like air travel--after missing your "flight", you shouldn't panic (I did at first) and really don't even need to look for help (I didn't); simply find another train traveling roughly the same direction and plop down, the conductors don't care one iota.

Steph kindly waited in Mainz and boarded my same slow train around 5pm, and even more kindly had purchased two large beers for us to ease the remainder of the trip. The route from Mainz to Köln was surprisingly lovely, traveling along the Rhine with castle and vineyard hillside views much of the trip.

Despite our perception of the minds of some (usually older) Europeans harboring what I'll call an "image problem" for Germany from You-Know-What sixty-odd years ago, and some vague distaste on the part of some Swiss-Germans towards their northern neighbor, I wholeheartedly disagree with the quibblers and say Germany rocks! In direct contrast to what I believe is probably an increasingly-outdated German stereotype, I find most Germans openly friendly, social and generally happy, with of course a firmly appreciated and obviously natural enthusiasm for quaffing beer.

Köln was an accordingly enjoyable city. Its major draw is the absolutely phenomenal Kölner Dom, or cathedral. We're generally not avid church gapers throughout our Euro travels, although of course we appreciate them, but Cologne's is unbelievably striking--one of the largest churches in the world and described by UNESCO World Heritage as "an exceptional work of human creative genius" (couldn't agree more). It blows Notre Dame out of the water. Like any great eye-goggling scene, pictures only do it partial justice, and the shifting perspective presented by the scale and depth of its various buttresses, spires and incredibly intricate facades can probably only be fully appreciated close-up.

Köln's #2 draw (in our minds) is it's unique local beer, Kölsch, a light pale ale (most German beers are lagers) ubiquitously available in Cologne's ample downtown bars and restaurants. Classically served in tall, slender glasses of only 20 centiliters (~7 ounces), the rule of thumb is that the waiter or bartender keeps providing them unasked until you say "Nicht mehr!" (or "¡No más!" because you can't remember what country you're in). After checking into the hotel Friday evening and heading out for dinner and post-dinner drinks, we later counted Saturday morning that I had unwittingly imbibed 14 Kölsch (although it hurt my head to count that high, Steph had behaved more responsibly). Part of my distraction at the bar had been a genius, life-sized, mechanically-animated two-"man" oompah band with tuba and accordion playing German drinking singalong songs by request all night--and the packed bar loved to sing along.

Downtown Cologne's Old Town was quite pleasant (although as we're learning is not uncommon in many larger European cities, its Old Town was actually "newly" rebuilt in the 1950's to look old after being demolished by WWII bombing); other downtown streets provided tons of shopping at much-better-than-Zürich prices; some restaurants offer classic German food with many more serving perfectly contemporary "regular" multicultural fare. Everything during the weekend was quite enjoyable except the weather--spring hadn't yet sprung and we contended with mostly cold winds and drizzle.

By the way, perhaps against common assumption, the "namesake" product cologne was virtually nonexistent (or at least went completely unnoticed by us). Perhaps a case of said product being prouder of the city than the other way around. Big points on our scorecard for our Köln excursion, and we're not forgetting to pinch ourselves since so many diverse and engrossing locations are a mere half-day's journey away.

And now, the always important pictures and travel map:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=2hd8fyj.c9q86a0r&x=0&y=-94qwue&localeid=en_US