Like all of you reading this, I’ve been up early preparing for Swiss Independence Day. How do we do it? The bunting, the gathering of wood for the grill, the sausages, and, of course, gathering up the musicians. It’s never easy to find an accordionist who can play, S isch halt Vollmond.
After the morning ablutions, I drove over to the very wonderful Swiss bakery and bought croissant, weggli, and pretzels. Their croissant are easily the best in the city because of all the butter they use and what seems to be a whole wheat flour. The pretzels? Well, you might as well be in a village in Switzerland. They are that good.
The holiday in Switzerland isn’t marked by parades or jingo. Just lots of grilling or raclette and fireworks.
I spent a huge part of my early youth in Switzerland, and as such it makes me feel younger still each time I’m there or in thrall of its mountains. Those mountains certainly dwarf our petty, brief lives.