Also! Uf Wie­der­lue­ge! Merci!

Von Donal McLaugh­lin - Also! Uf Wie­der­lue­ge! Mer­ci – It’s almost time to use that phra­se oft over­he­ard on the Num­ber 5 tram. My final days in Bern are approa­ching. Six weeks ago, it felt like I’d pul­led the plug in a rather full bath: the water sin­king slow­ly around me, though the­re was ple­nty still to enjoy. Now, it’s a mat­ter of time befo­re that rude gurg­le & slurp that pre­ce­des the dis­ap­pearance of the litt­le water that’s left.

Once upon a time I was a keen pho­to­grapher. I’d car­ry the bag, the equip­ment; foo­ter about with len­ses. Nowa­days, I lea­ve all that behind.

I’ve taken a sin­gle pho­to­graph here.

What fol­lows are some of the other images, epi­so­des, I’ll take home:

ROMANDIE

* lost in the blues, mau­ves, lil­acs; the haze & mist oppo­si­te: FRANCE
* from the Lau­sanne train: what look like black chi­ckens across the ter­races on every hills­i­de each Wein­stock cut right back
* from Gli­on: the topo­gra­phy of Mon­treux below & Lau­sanne ahead; France impres­sio­ni­stic opposite
* the hau­te éco­le de valeurs humain­es pour jeu­nes fil­les we pass by car; girls play­ing net­ball, in white blou­ses & skirts; us laug­hing at the French for it
* sun­ri­se over the Rochers-de-Naye 150 mil­li­on years ago (cap­ti­on beneath a photo)
* abo­ve us, the first wasps, feas­ting on pus­sy-wil­low, as we read a descrip­ti­on of the Escu­la­pe Grass-Sna­ke; its pen­chant for lizards & rodents
* Good Fri­day in French; the long rea­ding in which the Bishop, bless him, play­ed Jesus; me lon­ging for more Scarlatti

BERN

* the infor­ma­ti­on panels I keep approa­ching which turn out to be 15 lines on Park­ord­nung; 10 on Verbot
* the dis­mant­ling of the Frau­en­wa­che at the Bun­des­haus: a huge red F, blue R & green U til­ted against the side of their van
* the first splas­hes of cher­ry blos­som on the hills­i­de below the Rosengarten
* that stun­ning view: the Alt­stadt from the Rosengarten
* out­side LOEB: hea­vi­ly armed poli­ce pro­tec­ting a win­dow-full of rab­bits (it loo­ked like) on what was the first anni­ver­sa­ry of the War against Iraq start­ing (I lear­ned subsequently)
* 2am, Gerech­tig­keits­gas­se: out from under the Lau­ben, a guy, mid-pee, una­wa­re of the poli­ce car arri­ving over his should­er; the syn­chro­ni­ci­ty of his zip going up & the win­dow win­ding down
* Eas­ter Sun­day in Ger­man; the Auf­er­ste­hung erst recht ser­mon in which Ger­man sound­ed anci­ent unli­ke Mozart’s Agnus Dei as we tur­ned for ‘Peace be with you’ – ‘Der Frie­de sei mit dir bezie­hungs­wei­se Ihnen!’
* my five-year-old nephew asking: ’Why is Switz­er­land always so peaceful??‘
* the same boy exclai­ming (at 10 on a week­day mor­ning): ‘There’s nobo­dy in this place, except us!’
* the same boy vowing to learn Ger­man, and then ‘the ali­ens’ lan­guage’ so that when he meets them he can say, ‘Calm down, calm down, it’s only a commercial!’
* Lan­gen­thal: spon­ta­neous­ly, half­way through my rea­ding, the pupils sing the Swiss Psalm for me
* Lan­gen­thal: the ques­ti­on from the girl at the front: ‘What’s your rela­ti­onship to the Vir­gin Mary nowadays?’
* from the train back to Bern: der Schim­mel ohne Reiter
* out­side LOEB: a bear attempts the tigh­tro­pe abo­ve the tram­li­nes while two legs all that remains of the last per­son to fail step off Per­ron 2 * Mar­zi­li: clouds of dan­de­l­ion seed fill the air; the cou­ple on the bench too engros­sed, sure­ly, to be play­ing she loves me (not)
* the pedes­tal wit­hout a sta­tue, just off Rat­haus­platz; the iron stair­ca­se to help you climb onto it & pose
* the cathe­dral by night the tower lit, as if from within
* the cathe­dral by night that gre­at blue light as, slow­ly, the lan­terns dim
* the cathe­dral by night in that first magic moment of darkness
* the thought of living oppo­si­te; of rea­ding ‘Mach’s na’ dai­ly

ZURICH

* the queue of May-the-First radi­cals at the hole-in-the-wall of PostFinance
* near the Gany­med sta­tue (Bür­kli­platz): the fran­tic flap­ping of seagulls, inches abo­ve the water, as here, the­re & ever­y­whe­re (but not whe­re the gulls are), fish small fry leap out of the water. the ele­gant supe­rio­ri­ty of the swan
* out­side the Gross­müns­ter: the punk with the Mohi­can hair­style, shou­ting: ‘SURPRISE Stras­sen­ma­ga­zin: die intel­lek­tu­el­le Ant­wort auf Playstation!’
* bus-stop at Cen­tral: a 50-some­thing with pig­tails dis­turbs my enjoy­ment of Wil­helm Tell: ‘Dein Schwei­zer Staat hat die Dame auf­ge­for­dert, das Land zu ver­las­sen.’ She nods in a direc­tion whe­re I can see nobo­dy. ‘Das ist dei­ne Schwester!’
* Sprüng­li: a mother lifts her todd­ler from a bars­tool at the win­dow & turns towards the bar. we hear some­thing crack. the sau­cer beneath the sil­ver cream-jug is now in bits on the flo­or. what mum doesn’t see is the cream spil­ling sil­ent­ly from the jug the boy still holds and I don’t tell her

SOLOTHURN

* the Lite­ra­tur­ta­ge: the rea­dings, the chit­chat, the book-stall
* the river, the cathe­dral, the cafés
* but also the Seil­bahn from Ober­dorf to Weis­sen­stein; tho­se won­derful wide-open two-sea­ters (‘bist du schwin­del­frei?’); the wai­ting-your-turn at the Mit­tel­sta­ti­on; the whoosh befo­re off you go; the views across to the moun­ta­ins; the mar­vel­ling at the tech­no­lo­gy of yes­teryear; tech­no­lo­gy for which you feel fond­ness

WEG DER SCHWEIZ 

On the eve of the EM in Por­tu­gal, I walk the Weg der Schweiz, tog­e­ther with ano­ther Scot. It’s not the most chal­len­ging long­di­stance walk we’ve done, but we do it for the sym­bo­lism. Inau­gu­ra­ted in 1991, to cele­bra­te 700 years of the Swiss Con­fe­de­ra­ti­on, the trail goes round the sou­thern­most part of Lake Lucer­ne. From the Rüt­li-Wie­se, it leads via See­lis­berg, Bau­en, Flüelen, Sis­i­kon & Mor­schach back to Brun­nen. The 35km are divi­ded into 26 sec­tions, desi­gned to cor­re­spond to the 26 can­tons with each allot­ted a length of path pro­por­tio­na­te to its popu­la­ti­on. Every 5mm of the trail repres­ents a Swiss citizen.

I sen­sed befo­re we star­ted that I might wri­te some­thing; that I could use the rou­te as a frame­work. Sure enough, a draft now exists. It’s not fic­tion. More a tra­ve­lo­gue. 50,000 cha­rac­ters (or 8,000 words) I wouldn’t have writ­ten other­wi­se. A bonus.

FOOTBALL

From the Platz der Aus­land­schwei­zer in Brun­nen, the offi­ci­al end of the Weg, we head straight to a pub for the Croa­tia game. Pre­dic­ta­b­ly, the bar has the Swiss flag ever­y­whe­re; the staff are in Swiss-style Tshirts. All we need’s to paint our faces.

Some moments I remember:
* the natio­nal anthem: the play­ers hol­ding hands, the fans arm-in-arm; that get­ting a laugh, for some reason
* a refe­rence in the com­men­ta­ry to your mana­ger (72) insis­ting he’s 71!
* Jakob Kuhn: ‘unser Vater’, a fan tells us, poin­ting to a clo­se-up on screen
* that long high ball, 20 minu­tes from the end, whe­re it’s come from’s unclear, even in the replay on its way towards an emp­ty Swiss goal; Stiel, rea­li­sing he’s been caught, out, sees it boun­ce befo­re him & over his head, still goal­ward. us free­zing as we watch his fran­tic cha­se, too far away to be able to help; even when he gets a hand on it & vague­ly stalls its momen­tum, the ball con­ti­nues ago­ni­s­in­gly – next thing, we’re laug­hin & chee­rin, though, for we can see the danger’s clear; Stiel, having stumb­led for­ward, is now behind the ball; flat out on the ground, just about, he halts the ball with his forehead.
* ‘Foot­ball not a game for a girl’s boar­ding school!’ (SF2 commentator)
* Eng­land-France in Zurich: a big screen in a sta­ti­on bar (IMAGINE), Eng­land a goal up; wat­ching France score twice in inju­ry time
* Eng­land-Switz­er­land on Neu­en­gas­se: folk gathe­ring round any Stras­sen­ca­fé with a tele­vi­si­on; a bar-owner with CHAPUISAT across his should­ers try­ing to clear the road; threa­tening to turn the game off
* an hour into your second game & ano­ther player’s red-card­ed: the hard­ly bru­tal Swiss now prop­ping up the Fair Play league; the Swiss the tournament’s bad boys!
* rea­ding Fuss­bal­le­ri­sches with Beat Ster­chi, up next to the Rosen­gar­ten; the two tel­lies in the cour­ty­ard: Switz­er­land-France on top of England-Croatia
* the fan spot­ted at the Zyt­glog­ge that night: his huge metal con­trap­ti­on sup­port­ing nine flag poles & three huge cowbells
* the clo­sing stages against France & the Swiss dream fades. we shrug & pon­der what might ‘ve been, espe­ci­al­ly with Eng­land winning.
* Aber wenn etwas im Fuss­ball kei­nen Platz hat dann der Kon­junk­tiv (SF2)

PEOPLE ON TRAINS 

* the girl oppo­si­te, rea­ding ABITUR WISSEN Deut­sche Lite­ra­tur (viel Spass, Mädel!)
*the yelp as the buf­fet trol­ley runs over a dog’s paw; the blue of the trol­ley; the blue of the poor guy’s uni­form; the blue of the air as the dog swears
*the woman oppo­si­te, on the train to Zurich, falls asleep over the speech she’s pre­pa­ring (Lie­be Kol­le­gin­nen -); her back­ground material’s entit­led: Finn­land – Land der Eman­zen, I see

BIFERTENHÜTTE

With a Swiss fri­end I climb to the Bifer­ten­hüt­te & cross fields of snow in July! We arri­ve in Brigels / Breil to see (my first) street­signs in Romansh. The long walk in & steep climb up – but the­re are but­ter­flies & flo­ra to reward us.
* the Bifer­ten­stock; its V; the slo-mo cloud drif­ting over that V
* the last of the snow, now lit, now not, by the litt­le sun that gets through

TRANS SWISS TRAIL 

Not con­tent with the Weg der Schweiz, we walk part of the Trans Swiss Trail: Days 29 & 30. From Luga­no to Mend­ri­sio. Not con­tent with that, we return the fol­lo­wing weekend & walk Iso­ne-Luga­no & Mend­ri­sio-Chi­as­so. From Chi­as­so, we cross the bor­der and head for Como.

LUGANO

* the thrill of the vege­ta­ti­on: the enti­re­ly woo­ded hills; the green of any mea­dows * the palm­trees; the cypres­ses; the warmth of the evening air
* loo­king across at Mon­te Brè; the one buil­ding atop it lit by the last of the sun * the sta­tue of one Gior­gio Washing­ton; the thought of one Gior­gio Bush
* lizards scoo­ting off, scar­per­ing into the under­growth, as we climb San Sal­va­to­re * from the­re via Caro­na to Mor­cote, at the tip of the Cere­sio pen­sinu­la: view after spec­ta­cu­lar view onto the lago, the hills

MORCOTE

* the des­cent: loo­king onto San­ta Maria del Sas­so as we nego­tia­te end­less steps; the palm trees & cypres­ses lining our path; the ter­ra­cot­ta roofs, the swim­ming pools
* that evening, the bats under the Lau­ben, swo­o­ping & swer­ving as we stroll
* the fer­ry across to Brusi­no, to approach the next morning’s ascent
* a gras­shop­per with bril­li­ant green mar­kings sett­les in posi­ti­on on my boot; shares my per­spec­ti­ve, as – feet up on the rai­lings – I look down on the place whe­re we slept

MENDRISIO

* in the sha­de: a dozen or so old ladies, lined up in their patio chairs, the full length of the old folks’ home; the only sound a pitiful lament – what sounds like a slo­wed­down bans­hee wail

TESSERETE

* the church tower: against the back­drop of mountains

SAN CLEMENTE 

*sur­re­al: 14 or 15 wal­kers – with 7 cud­che­wing llamas in tow!

SAN BERNARDO

* the fur­nace of 6pm suns­hi­ne & the view down onto the lake as we emer­ge after hours in the forest

PARCO DELLE GOLE DELLA BREGGIA 

* 80 mil­li­on years of geo­lo­gi­cal histo­ry: gor­ges, water­falls, ama­zing rock for­ma­ti­ons. teen­agers pre­pared to tack­le what are natu­ral flumes

FURTHER FURTHER IMPRESSIONS 

My first impres­si­ons (back in April) included a sec­tion ‘Slo­gans. Graf­fi­ti. Lan­guage’. Here’s what’s caught the eye (or ear) since:

Graf­fi­ti

* BIG BROTHER FUCK OFF
* ‘Tea­chers lie!’
* ‘Feminism’s our mini­mum demand!’
* ‘War is ter­ro­rism with a big­ger bud­get!’ * WAS WÜRDE JESUS TUN? (scrat­ched on a wall of the Bundeshaus)
* WIR BRAUCHEN KEINE (RELIGIÖSEN) FÜHRER (down by the river as the Pope’s due)

Head­lines

* Wel­che Aus­län­der wol­len wir? (FACTS)
* Kran­ker Papst begrüsst Jugend (at airport)
* Die Angst der Schwei­zer Fans: Kroa­ten machen aus uns Cepav­ci­ci (Blick)

Quo­ta­ti­ons (over­he­ard)

* ‚Spe­zia­list hat gsagt: Aspi­rin ist gut – für Herz und Dings‘
* in the queue for Zurich in Luton: ’What‘s 16% of 4.5 mil­li­on??’ The youn­ger of the two slips his cal­cu­la­tor out as his supe­ri­or con­ti­nues: ’Ima­gi­ne: one cus­to­mer is 44% of your busi­ness! I‘d want to know ever­y­thing the­re is and play every angle’
* the Lite­ra­tur­ta­ge, at the uri­nals: ‘aber das heisst nicht, das es mora­lisch rich­tig ist. Das ist immer das Problem-‘

Quo­ta­ti­on (read)

* ‚alles, was nicht auto­bio­gra­phisch ist, ist ein Pla­gi­at‘ (Almo­do­var quo­ting Paco Umbral in the Sonn­tags­zei­tung)

Virus Eng­lish

Back in March, I star­ted recei­ving stran­ge emails. For weeks on end, mes­sa­ges arri­ved from folk I didn’t know. One famous wri­ter sound­ed furious with me. Ano­ther we cal­led at her work­place. Turns out: such nui­sance emails are elec­tro­ni­cal­ly gene­ra­ted. I could belie­ve it – not least when someone called

Donal McLaugh­lin wro­te to Donal McLaugh­lin, asking ‘do you have an orgasm in the pic­tu­re?’ Wri­te about it! various folk urged. I might yet. For the moment, let’s ridi­cu­le the (not-)English.

Eng­lish for Spam-mailers.
* ‘do you have an orgasm in the picture?’
(Cor­rect ver­si­on: are you having an orgasm in the pic­tu­re?)
* ‘do you have sex in the pic­tu­re?’ (Cor­rect ver­si­on: are you having sex in the pic­tu­re?)
* ‘is that yours?’ (mea­ning wife)
(Cor­rect ver­si­on: might this pos­si­bly be your lady wife?)
* ‘are you the naked one?’
(Cor­rec­tion ver­si­on: is that you wit­hout any clo­thes on?)
* ‘you can­not hide yourself’
(Cor­rect ver­si­on: you can­not hide)

and final­ly: LITERARY MATTERS 

*the joy of fin­ding fel­low Scots in book­shops: A L Ken­ne­dy, Also bin ich froh; James Kel­man, Spät war es, so spät ; of see­ing reviews in major Swiss papers
* the plea­su­re of rea­ding Swiss wri­ters & work I didn’t know: e.g. Walt­her Kauer’s Spät­holz; or Fran­co Supino’s Ciao amo­re, ciao, dip­ping into antho­lo­gies to get some sen­se of range
* Andersch: the exci­te­ment of dis­co­ve­ring that Gesam­mel­te Wer­ke are due (10 volu­mes, Dio­ge­nes, Novem­ber); being remin­ded even by the bro­schu­re of the man’s huge influence on me
* in a rail­way sta­ti­on book­shop: Andersch, as descri­bed by Frisch in a let­ter to Uwe John­son; an Andersch ‘trans­for­med’ (by ’76); with whom Frisch can con­ver­se with ease; in who­se com­pa­ny laughter’s pos­si­ble; a deve­lo­p­ment which ‘opens up the val­ley’ in which the two men lived
* Andersch: an oppor­tu­ni­ty to learn from his lear­ning from the past
* Dür­ren­matt: being grip­ped by ‘laby­rin­thi­sche Erin­ne­run­gen’ in Loetscher’s Lesen statt klettern
* Frisch: all the­se years later, final­ly rea­ding the Nach­ru­fe

MERCI

Ich möch­te mich bei den fol­gen­den Per­so­nen sehr sehr herz­lich bedan­ken. Alle haben zum Erfolg mei­nes Auf­ent­hal­tes bei­getra­gen – und ich weiss ihre freund­li­che und gross­zü­gi­ge Art sehr zu schätzen:

Peter Schranz und sei­nen Kole­gIn­nen in der Abtei­lugn Kul­tu­rel­les (für alles, wirk­lich alles); Beat Ster­chi (für das Dich­ter-Essen u. die Ein­la­dung zu lesen); Yeboaa Ofu­so (für u.a. Solo­thurn); Fran­co Supi­no (für Solo­thurn & Umge­bugn); Eng­lish Dept der Uni­ver­si­tät Bern (für die wun­der­ba­re Auf­nah­me – and a dream audi­e­ne­ce!); Mar­gret Powell-Joss & Wri­ters’ Works Bern (fort he kind invi­ta­ti­on to read); Gym­na­si­um Lan­gen­thal (fürs Zuhö­ren zur frü­hen Stun­de!); Regu­la Fuchs (für ein tol­les Gespräch für den BUND); Bar­ba­ra Mos­ca (Bri­tish Coun­cil, Bern) & John Car­die (Visit­Bri­tain, Zurich) – two gems pro­mo­ting Bri­tain abroad (cont­act via www.britishcouncil.org/switzerland, bzw. www.visitbritain.com/chde, & see for yours­elf!); und last, not least: Ste­phan & Lukas & Gere von ENSUITE (dan­ke für die Ein­la­dung, eure freund­li­che Auf­nah­me, sowie den Umgang mit den Texten!)

Bild: Chris­toph Habich (Mün­chen)
ensuite, August 2004