Back from Basel

I wrote before that I expected some head-scratching in Basel. I was right. I did play golf at a Swiss club in France, where they speak German. Once I overcame my linguistic confusion, the golf courses were splendid and the welcome warm and friendly. There are two beautiful courses with views over Basel or the Black Forest and the Vosges in the distance.

By our standards, the weather was crisp and cool, with even some rain. I loved it—a welcome respite from the Cyprus summer.

Basel was insistent that it be Swiss-German rather than Swiss-French, in a gentle, understated Swiss way. I speak French and German and observed at one point that German and French people must find Switzerland an odd place, as the Swiss versions of their languages are very distinct, especially the German. Still, the people were all charming, and it’s something to see them slip from one language to another without missing a beat. It seemed everyone had English and Italian, too.

We meandered down from the Minster in the Old Town, crossing the Rhine on a sturdy bridge. The sun glittered on the fast-flowing river: a bucolic scene. My heart stuttered as I saw a head bobbing along in the current. Had someone fallen in? Then I saw another. And another. There were loads of them. All having a jolly time, it seemed.

Barbara, a longtime Basel resident and our host, laughed. “Wickelfisch.” I made a note.

In the late 1980s, a chemical accident badly polluted the Rhine in Basel. Being Swiss, the Swiss shook their heads and set about cleaning up the river, re-fishing it, and making it central to city life. Tilo Ahmels launched the Wickelfisch, a dry bag that doubled as a float.

Assuming that you work upriver from your home, once you clock out, you slip your clothes and wallet into the bag, seal it up, trapping air inside, and throw yourself into the Rhine, which transports you downriver with the bag acting as a float. At “your stop”, you strike out for the shore, climb out, grab a cold beer from the “buvette”, and drip dry in the afternoon sun. Then you open your Wickelfisch, slip your kit back on and stroll home for supper with die kinder.

I’m guessing that this is predominantly a summer activity. I imagine that the Rhine gets a wee bit fresh in the winter. I found it curiously jarring. Swiss people strike me as very self-assured. Occasionally, they can come across as a tiny bit too sure of themselves. Everything is regulated, controlled, and organised. And then, I discover that Switzerland is happy to have citizens floating down the Rhine, a working river packed with commercial barges and cruise ships.

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