Locations

The City Whispers – Zurich Graffiti

zurich_graffiti_i_smallGraffiti speaks across the walls and streets and later I see it all at once in my heads. All the hope and hate and colors and concrete are there in front of my eyes. Shadows on the streets, whispers in the heads. I walked around Zurich shooting graffiti the other day. The excursion was slightly cold and very cool. I walked towards the old Lowenbrau brewery, just beside the river. I’d seen the place thousand times from the train, but never took the time to explore it on foot. just like I’ve visited Zurich a thousand days and nights without ever really walking around with a camera. There’s always things to find, new things to inspire and learn from. I forget this sometimes, but love finding it again.

zurich_graffiti-5I love graffiti because you never know what you’ll find. On the wall of Lowenbrau is a poster of Obama’s Hope, staring off into the future. On the opposite side on a wall a sticker reads, “911 was an inside job.” Across the river from the brewery I see the Star of David and a Swastika sprayed next to a sidewalk leading up to some houses. There’s an equal sign between them. Social commentary on the action of the Nazi and Israeli governments perhaps? Who knows, it’s open to interpretation, some might say intimidation. The next week there’s a story in 20 Minutes about anti-Semitic leaflets being stuffed in mailboxes, someone said it was like the 1930’s. Hope and hate a few minutes walk from one another. In between a 911 conspiracy. Who knew the streets of Zurich were so crazy and political. Is it everywhere – waiting to be seen with the right eyes at the right time? Then there’s the socialists, the hammer and cycle are often found on buildings, usually not too far from an anti WEF image. Thoughts in time, what’s the reason? The abstract works are the best, no specific message, just shapes and colors, your mind doesn’t need to translate the universal language, just enjoy the views.

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Zurich isn’t generally known for it’s street art. Berlin, Dresden, these are the cities which come to mind. There you find fantastic visions around every corner. In Zurich the streets are clean, the punks are few, and political demonstrations are anomalies, except for the 1st of May. But if you walk the streets and take a few turns you’ll find the voices on the walls. Images that were once in someone’s head and got translated to poems of the pavements.

The abstract comes out, the aliens faces, the eyes staring back at you and then looking across the city. The graffiti reminds me that Zurich is an inspiring place. Everything looks clean and orderly, but there’s also revolt inside the Stadt. There’s dissension, there’s hope, there’s inspired art. For some reason this fills my heart with joy. Sometimes I think that a city without graffiti doesn’t have a soul or just has nothing to say, or is under a social boot. I don’t think I’ve been in my any small mountain village in Switzerland and not seen at least a small sliver of street revolt on the door of a Kiosk or the side of a train. It’s not always in your face, shouting at you like a Coke advertisement, but the voices are there if you go listening for them.

zurich_graffiti-4Ah, but who is saying what, you wonder. Not everyone is talking to the walls with spray cans, you only hear the most determined voices. That’s fine, I’m not looking for SAMO’s ghost or Van Gogh’s ear lobe. There’s Andy Warhol in the Kunsthause and galleries around Zurich, but I love graffiti because the environment is always changing, and part of the art, the texture of the images changes with the lighting and the season. You never know if it”ll be there the next time you walk by. I think of fleeting moments in the time that can never be recreated or improved upon. Perfect.

zurich_graffiti-9Beware of cities which are too clean, without stickers on the lamp posts or writing on the walls. Beware of people who always clean off the walls with out hearing what they say. Not all graffiti is good, a lot of it sucks. I vomit every time I see nothing but tags. In Zurich most of the stuff around the train tracks is just kids writing their names in colorful ways, who cares. What I like is seeing a horse in scuba gear, alien faces below windows and giant lizards crawling up the sides of buildings. The coolest find by far was this piece of newspaper on the wall near Escher-Wyss-Platz. Basically it’s an astronaut painted on newspaper, with a map included. Pure imagination, priceless inspirations.

Tokyo Scribbles – Ginza the Luxury Godzilla

ginza-8Ginza is the Tokyo shopping district which makes Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich look like an outlet mall just off Route 66 in Arizona. Every major clothing marketer is there including the likes of Prada, Eddy Bauer, Levis and Apple. In addition, a number of camera manufacturers including Nikon, Canon and Sony have showrooms here, as well as sword shop selling hand-made Katanas. If you’re in Tokyo, Ginza is a cool place to walk around and gaze in awe. Gaze around in awe of amazing architecture, fantastically expensive clothing and visit all the camera show rooms you could imagine. You can buy any luxury good, and probably find a vodka mixed with glacier water imported from Antarctica if you look hard enough. But the looks are for free and digital pictures cost nothing to take.

ginza-5Despite the concentration of camera shops, Ginza is one of the worst places in Tokyo to buy cameras and photo equipment, unless you’re a collector. The stores there are basically vintage Leica vaults – filled with all manner of limited edition gold plated 35mm Leica paper weights one could want. Rollie twin-reflex cameras and the occasional and Western-rare Fuji 6×8 medium format rangefinder are also floating around, but Ginza is really just focused on filling the needs of Leica and Rollei collectors. For cameras you have to head to Shinjuku (Yodobashi and MapCamera). ?On the weekends the main drag in Ginza closes down to cars and you get to walk wherever you like. This is especially cool when the sun goes down and you can capture excellent views of the buildings from the street vantage point, a location generally difficult to have in any city of the world on any given day.

ginza-4Like many parts of Tokyo, the architecture is new and snazzy and excellent for taking snaps, or even “photographs”. The weekends are also a nice time to do street photography, whatever the exact definition, if you enjoy taking photos of people on the street, a day trip to Ginza on the weekend will provide you with countless subjects. The Japanese population is generally well acclimated to having their picture taken, it’s a street photographer paradise.

ginza-2As with many districts of Tokyo, if you’re street shooting, you’ll have a lot of company. I was walking down the main drag, and a photographer caught my attention. He seemed overly excited, almost like a giddy school boy at a candy convention – and then I saw the object of his obsession. A woman was chilling by the street light and this guy was having the time of his life shooting her, she didn’t seem to mind too much – as if she were used to the attention, and just stood their posing and smiling. Even when a second guy showed up and started clicking away she just kept the pose. I took the photojournalist angle and photographed the guy shooting the woman chilling by the street post – being photographed by another guy. Naturally, and in unique Japanese photography fashion, I was sporting a Ricoh GR Digital with the optional 21mm add-on lens. The skies were deep blue and set the stage for fantastic portraits of the city.

ginza-6Most parts of Tokyo look awesome at night, but Ginza is special. The main street is extremely wide, and on the weekend when the cars are forbidden to drive there, you have fantastic views of the buildings. Grab a tripod and setup directly on the double yellow lines of the street, turn around in awe of the magical light spectacle around you, the view still haunts me to this day. Whatever you do in Ginza, don’t miss this sunset magic hour, the time when the sun is going down – and in that magic 20 minutes when the sky is blue, the city lights are up, and you have time to kill, this is the best time to do cityscapes and capture those sights you can only experience once during the short 24 hours squeezed into a normal day.

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Zurich Notes – Photo 07 Photography Show

Photo 07 is a photography show in Zurich, held once a year to highlight Swiss photographers and their work from that particular year.  So, actually the name changes every year; Photo06, Photo07, Photo08, etc.  It generally takes place in the Maag Event Hall near Hardbrücke, the cool Zurich club district.  In short, an old factory is rented out and hundreds of photos are put on display by the represented photographers for anyone interested.  A pallet of Faces magazine was sitting unattended for pilfering, the same as you’re likely to find at a Kunsthaus-techno party or other art-type exhibition around Zurich.  You can also grab free literature and promotional cards from the photographers.
There’s no real theme for the iconic Zurich photo show, the only qualification being that the photographs were produced during the year of the show.  This lends a broad subject matter, everything from photos that are “supposed” to be out of focus to tables bleeding black blood, fantastic aerial shots and high fashion.

This also means there’s no pretentiousness about the presentation of the work.  The goal of the night is to exhibit Swiss photography, network, hang-out, basically just chill and have a good inspiring time.  The work of a high-paid fashion photographer can be found next to that of high-adrenaline hobbyist.  It’s all about the images.  Of course, because the show highlights the work more than the artist, I can’t remember a single name of anyone who exhibited at Photo07.  So, it’s fortunate that a list of all of them can be found on the Photo07 site.  There you can find the contact info for Sandor Rozsas, who can produce sharp photos if kindly asked.  You can also find out about Oliver Oettli, who’s glamor works sometimes includes pink plastic dolls from IKEA.

The actual presentation of the works is left up to their owners and might range from well-matted to frame-less prints seemingly freshly removed from the cutting room floor.  The display surface was uniformly white Styrofoam – cut into giant blocks, which fit nicely with the concrete flooring and dark industrial setting.

The coolest and most enjoyable art is the type you can interact with.  And one of the first exhibits was a giant foam column with a permanent marker on hand for every anonymous person to draw or write whatever they felt like.  Naturally I produced a strange looking creature with large Alien-like head and human nose.

After walking through the avant-foam maze of faces of colors you end up near on the other side of the cool-factory ambiance and can chill in the lounge – by the bar.  The perfect setting to sit back and reflect on the experience you’ve just witnessed.

Photo07 was a cool experience, situated conveniently in between Christmas and New Years, the show is an excellent reason to wander into the crisp December Zurich night.  I’m looking forward to Photo 08 in Zurich, and might even submit a portfolio to the show.

Lazy Tokyo Weekend – Mt. Fuji

Mt. Fuji, Fuji-san is possibly the easiest and most awestruck climbs I’ve ever done.  The term "climb" is a stretch when describing Fuji-san.  A winter ascent up the iced face might warrant crampons and axes, but a summer/fall experience falls into the hiking category.  The pathway is wide and primarily maintained with heavy machinery, and during the official climbing season, you can buy food and drinks along the way.  I climbed Fuji-san the third weekend of September, just after the close of the official climbing window of July 1 to August 27.  I’d been in Tokyo for about two weeks and my body and soul were screaming from some escape from the manic metros and crowded Shibuya streets.

Mountaineering has historically had a certain man vs. nature connotation.  Climbing magazines like Rock and Ice or Climbing sometimes use the terms assault to describe a person ascending to a mountain summit.  Popular culture uses terms such as conquer when to romanticize the act when a climbing team attains the summit of Everest.  But to say that one has attacked or conquered a large body of earth such as Fuji-san by the simple act of standing on the summit is like saying that the mosquito which buzzes near your sweaty head has made you it’s bitch.  Even the Swiss Alps with their cable ways and hotels and huts have not been conquered by mankind.

Despite the explicit traces of humankind and the rampant tourism and gimmicks associated with an ascent of Fuji-san, all the reverence and sacredness of the highest mountain on Japan, forged in the ring of fire, and risen from the sea like a God of old…none of these things are diminished by the fact that you can buy Fuji-Inspired custard snacks.  The gimmicks don’t make the mountain anything less than it is, one of the beautiful places on Earth.

I left Tokyo early in the morning.  Normally one can catch a bus from Shinjuku, but I waited too long to reserve a seat and had to find my way there by train.  I pick up a rice ball and yummy looking lemon drink.  It had a funky taste, something in between sour and fire.  After downing half the can I looked and noticed that the funky lemon can of liquid was 7% alcohol.

You can start the hike near sea-level, but I, like nearly everyone else started from Kawaguchiko-guchi Go-gome (Kawaguchiko Fifth Station).  It’s a bus stop and tourist trap, and signifies the start of the trailhead up to the summit.  The 5th is like any other tourist pit between the Mystery Spot in Northern Michigan or the Edelweiss-inspired shops in Grindelwald selling Swiss chocolate and cheese and kitsch.  You can get a can of fresh Fuji-san air at the 5th station, just like you can buy a sealed can of cosmic mystery in Sedona Arizona.

The most popular product is the walking stick.  During the summer you take the stick with you and get it stamped at each station.  I opted not to pick one up, partially because it would be hard taking back to Zurich, also because I was tired of spending Yen, but primarily because I would have entered into a Samurai fighting fantasy and ended up hitting someone by accident.

The real draw of Fuji-San is that everyone who can reasonably walk can make it to the top.  If you’re not in prime altitude condition, you can bring along an oxygen canister (available at the 5th station).  I highly recommend visiting Fuji in the early fall, there are fewer transportation possibilities, but there are far fewer people and the shops along the trail to the peak are closed.

The hike up Fuji-san is uneventful at first.  You begin to rise from the forested slopes and move over some rock, passing huts here and there.  You wonder why you’re ascending and wasting time on this man-conjured joke until the moment you pass through the cloud curtain and see the world falling away below you.  At this point the Zen begins to set in, and you are propelled upwards with a deep sense of wonder, each step a prayer to the deity whom you are set to meet on the summit.

There are a number of station up to the summit, I have no idea when I passed which ones, I really didn’t care.  All I needed to mark my ascent was the continued view of my vantage point getting ever closer to the sky.

In the Ying of the Yang, there is no sunrise without a sunset.  The many visitors will do a night hike and arrive at the summit for the sunrise, and the mountain is a bustling highway at 5:50am.  But at 5:50pm there are only a few souls, those who haven’t found a hut for the night or already descended.  I can’t recommend the sunset enough.  The popular gimmick is the sunrise, but in my experience it in no way matches the calm magic of the sun falling behind the summits.  The clouds gather in full at the slopes and form the perfect curtain for the shadow of the mighty one to be projected upon.

I thought about descending after the sunset and finding one of the huts to stay at for the night.  The cost for one of these runs around 60-80,000 Yen, and for some reason I just didn’t feel like putting myself back into the confines of walls and windows.

The cold was creeping over the ridges and rocks like it always does in an alpine environment after the sun leaves.  We get used to the comforts and confines and forget how vulnerable we are in the world.  I alternated between sitting and trying to sleep for a few minutes near rocks and walking around the volcano craters to move and stay warm.  This also allowed me to see the sky as I never had before.  The moon rose and set and the sky was filled with stars and at other times guarded by clouds.  It was quiet and cold and I’ll never forget the wonderful sleep depravation on the summit ridges and volcano rims of Fuji-san.

I was shivering at 4am when the first night hikers crested the over the last gate and began looking for the best place from which to see the rising sun.  You can see the sunrise from everywhere, but I opted for the more popular location, along with most everyone else.  The view is filled with cigarette smoke and the light of cell phones screens burns into the eyes as you wait for the sun.  The sunrise starts very slowly.  The sky lightens, and slivers of red start burning themselves into the atmosphere.  Eventually the red eye looks out across Japan and rises up above the clouds which have come to gather around the lower slopes.

The trip up and down Fuji-san was a wonderful experience.  It was a trip in the most spiritual sense, the way from Tokyo, finding the train, getting to the 5th station, watching the sun set and the stars revealed, the moon set and the sun rise and the eventual return to Shinjuku.

For the inexperience mountaineer Fuji-san is a colossal trek, an adventure of one’s lifetime.  For the lazy sometimes seasoned mountaineer such as your humble narrator, Fuji can be done as a day trip if desired.  One just needs to make sure of the transpiration issues.  Camping is officially prohibited, but like in the Swiss Alps, if you do and no one else is around, there’s no one to tell you to stop.  A number of travelers set up tents on the summit during the night, although I think this is only in the off-climbing season.  Either way, I highly recommend it for those in Tokyo seeking an escape from the manic rhythms of the city.  It is a majestic climb, no matter your skill level or previous mountain experiences.

Specifics on the climbing routes up Fuji-san can be found at the SummitPost page.  Photos and images from this trip were produced with the awesome Ricoh GRD digital camera.

Ricoh GRD Review
Ricoh GRD and Strobe Lighting

Zurich Scribbles – King’s Kurry and Indian Palace

My parents were in town, which means I was eating out with them every other night.  We happened to have a taste for Indian, and took in a few of the Indian restaurants in Zurich: King’s Kurry and Indian Palace.

King’s Kurry is popular throughout Zurich, and is generally recognized as the place to get Indian food.  It’s located at Freyastrasse 3 (map), near the Wiedikon Bahnhof.  The interior is really cool, probably the most exotic Indian place I’ve visited between Zurich and Detroit.  The ceiling is sky blue, the knives and forks look like cool futuristic surgical tools and the bowls look pieces belonging to a collection from MoMA in New York.

Like in every Indian restaurant, King Fisher beer is on the drink list.  You can get all the tasty favorites like tandoori, palack paneer, samosas, dosas, chutney, mango lassies, and pakoras.  As an experience, King’s Kurry is top notch.  The lassi comes with a K drizzled on top, the cool triangular tandoori plate, the curved-handle bowls; all pretty cool and for sure made the meal a memorable one.

Ordering at King’s Kurry was also an experience, the waiter seemed to talk to at a rather quick pace, and when the topic of appetizers came up, in the confusion – it seems we ordered samosas, nan and rice.

Apparently we’d actually ordered the King’s Plater.  A nice collection of pakoras, tandoori chicken, fish, chutney, and dosas.  This offered a nice collection of different tastes, it was a bit much as the main meal was still coming, and the pakoras were cold.  Apparently it also came with a price tag of 55 CHF, which we discovered when the bill came.  If we’d known the price we would have just indulged in a side of samosas.

Talking quickly and bringing out a side dish is not uncommon is some places.  It’s especially common in places like the el Greco restaurant on Zakynthos (in Greece).  At el Greco they dropped off some oiled peppers as a side order and then charged us 2 Euros on the bill.  This way the restaurant makes a little bit more off of the tourists who will be gone the next week.  2 Euros is ok, 55 CHF is a bit much for a blind-sided appetizer.

It’s more a matter of principle than the cost, you shouldn’t have to order and then carefully check every single charge to make sure you’re not buying something unexpected.  So long as the extra charge is small, it’s ok.  As a tourist you want to be carefree and enjoy your time.  For the restaurant it’s a question of long time customers versus short term profits.

Tourists represent shot-term gains, they’re there, spend a lot of money (hopefully) and then leave.  Locals represent long-term revenue, so if you screw with them you screw with your ability to make a consistent profit month to month and year to year.  At King’s Kurry, half of us were tourists, half were foreign locals, who probably will never go back.

The tandoori was good, it came on a large black triangular plate, if you’ve been heavily medicated, the tandoori will probably induce visions of UFOs and Martians coming to abduct you.  The tandoori was yummy, but not much better than what I’d cook at home with tandoori mix.  The rice was some of the best I’ve ever tried and the nan was also quite kick-ass.  I ordered the palak paneer with three chilies, and it was at my limit of hot. This is absolutely outstanding for Zurich, where most places are mild for the European palate.

After a sampling of the King’s Kurry experience, the taste in my mouth makes me feel that presentation was more prominent than quality.  I’m not an Indian chef, but I can dish out a chana masalla or dal without much of a second thought.  I guess this is generally true, it’s easy to cook an awesome meal at home, you go out for the atmosphere.  In the US I go to Indian restaurants because the food is generally not that expensive and usually quite tasty.  Considering that it’s made of basic ingredients and wait staff are usually all related, it makes sense that it should be cheaper.  Otherwise I cook Inidan at home because it’s fast, healthy, and cheap.  For Zurich it feels like a lot to drop a wad of cash on a palak paneer, plus rice, plus nan.

When faced with the prospect of a future visit to King’s Kurry, I’d rather drop 250 CHF on a new dishes, a cook book, and recreate the the experience in the apartment.  Then the dinner would be more personal, and I wouldn’t leave wondering where all the money went.

Indian Palace left a completely different taste in my mind, although not the most originally named – Indian place (there’s many in Detroit) is my choice for going out in Zurich.  Inidan Palace is located at Schaffhauserstrasse 129  (map) near the Milchbuch tram stop.  The prices are about the same, a little less than King’s Kurry, but I enjoyed the experience far more.  I ordered palak paneer with potatoes, and the dinner was served in small bowls with a candle below to keep everything warm.  This is where King’s Kurry and India Palace diverge.  At India Palace the focus was on the excellent savory things we were eating – not on what the cutlery looked like.

Also like every Indian restaurant in the world (that I’ve been to) both places offer an Indian buffet during lunch, which is the thing to do if you want tasty Indian food in Zurich without dropping a wad of cash (usually the buffets are around 20 CHF).  A rather extensive list of Indian restaurants in Zurich can be found here.

Juliette Lewis and the Licks

A number of artists bring a certain power to the stage, but I saw Juliette Lewis and the Licks bring it to the people during their show at Rohstofflager in Zurich.

Most times you see a lead singer they’re a magnet for female groupies.  The groupies buy the $40 concert T-shirts and when the singer starts clothing line and she wears a white hat on-stage the groupies buy the $20 knock-off at H&M and support her make-up line.  During a show, the  groupies scream and drool when the singer takes the stage and set the energy level for the venue.

Lewis has the rather unique quality of inspiring a rabid following of male groupies, who jump through the crowd-sea with American Indian feathers around their heads – you see them rising above the waves on the shoulders of those below them.  The scene is hip, it’s energetic – visually as well as emotionally commanding.  The thing is, it doesn’t feel like she’s been molded to be a sex symbol or to embody any particular message, she exudes the pure-rocker aura that marks groups like The Doors and the White Stripes.

As a singer Juliette is sort of interesting in that, you don’t get the feeling that she sings because her manager wants a certain look – like with a Britney or a Spice Girl.  She’s already made her mark on the Silver Screen and you don’t get the feeling that she needs to be a star.

Interaction between an artist and the audience is tough, so much so that Pink Floyd: The Wall was written after  Roger Waters spat on a fan after a show.  Juliette is kick-ass in this way, during the Zurich show she surfed the crowd and was interacting on the level of a unique rock-star totally connected with the audience.  After the initial surfing someone’s hands where apparently too intimate because at 21:25 Juliette addressed the crowd:

"When I go out there, who’s the little fucker that tries to grab my tits?"

Her energy is something you don’t see during a main-stream multi-thousand dollar production by Justine Timberlake or even less known groups like The Spores from LA.  I checked out The Spores show when they were in Zurich.  We were packed into a maybe 40 person bar and just 5 feet from the stage.  Despite the puppet show and close proximity to the artists, I was just standing there, enjoying the music, but not being moved by it in my core.  I also had a headache and wasn’t in the mood to have the limits of my ear drums tested, but good shows should rise above such Earthly trappings.

Rohstofflager was an awesome venue for the Licks.  It’s situated in the gritty industrial-club district of Zurich.  It’s a place for people to pack in and get crazy or chill out and soak up the vibes.  My girlfriend took to taking awesome photos while I recorded the night with my sketch book.

 

At the Licks concert I was way back by the bar and later up in the balcony with my girlfriend, far away from the madness of the stage-front; but still felt totally connected to the music, which I was hearing for the first time.  It’s not just the music, at the show you also get her personality, those bad-ass energetic attributes which made her popular in movies like From Dusk Till Dawn and Natural Born Killers.

If the Licks are coming to your town I highly recommend checking them out.  Juliette Lewis and the Licks are the real deal, pure bad-ass kick-ass rock vibes, just like the Shaman intended.

The Day of My Mortality

In honor of my Birthday the Swiss Weather Gods said unto the Swiss Weather Lookers,

"He’ll no doubt want to take the day off for his birthday and climb the mountains around Zurich.  This can not be allowed as he needs to write his dissertation."

It’s been snowing in Zurich every day or night since Monday, and will probably continue until Saturday.  The Avalanche Warning in the mountains around Zurich is a nice 4 out of a possible 5, and the highest I’ve seen around here.  So it was for sure the right decision that I took off work last Friday to snowshoe above Kandersteg.

The Laughing Lemon

Whipping by hand
I tend to write a lot of drivel about heading into the Alps, there’s no method behind it all, it’s just what floats around in my head. But it seems like a good time to digress and focus on more important topics. I’ve often thought about taking up chocolate science as a career, but much like joining the CIA, it just doesn’t seem to fit me. I’ve also harbored ideas of being a wine connoisseur and knowing how to taste the subtle differences between a pinot and a merlot, but like writing as a career – I’ve generally lacked the desire or drive to get serious about the subject.
That’s where the Laughing Lemon comes into play.
It sounds like the coolest cocktail you’ve ever heard of, but the Laughing Lemon is actually a cooking school in Zurich. I learned about the Laughing Lemon from Jack (he invited me to the Swiss wine class) who’s dating Kara, who is friends with Kate, who grew up in Ohio, but I met her in Michigan, and then we ended up sailing through Greece with Allison, who’s from Hawaii, and was dating Kevin, who cheated on her, and now I’m dating Iris, who was born in Virginia but grew up in Germany, and went to New York for college where she met Kevin and Evan (who’s wedding I attended in July) the non-sequitur thing is that it’s not the same Evan, and this Kevin is no relation to the one who cheated on Allison. Oh, and the Jack who invited me to the wine course is no relation to Jack McNulty – who runs the Laughing Lemon with Silvia Gautschi McNulty. The point here is that the Laughing Lemon offers a Chocolate and Wine class – which I signed up for without a second thought.
I took the class on a fine Thursday night last Fall. We started off learning about the history of chocolate in Switzerland and various facts like: soldiers used to eat high-purity chocolate to stay awake when on guard duty. Then we started tasting an array of chocolates with different cacao contents. Everything from the bitter dark madness to the white too-sweet-to-be-delicious variety. Then came the wine. We learned how to pair different wines to different chocolates. I can’t remember what goes with what, but it’s all written up in the information packet that one is provided with.
Then we got hands-on
Truffles are some of the coolest things that I had now idea how to make, and the creation of chocolate mousse has long befuddled my brain. So it was a bit of a godsend that we learned how to do both that night. Dipping in melted chocolate, whipping egg whites and gently folding the chocolate in so the mousse has the right texture, we went over all the little things that always intimidated me about chocolate creations in my kitchen.
We ended the class with a tasty-amazing-yummy dinner, consisting of rabbit cooked with peppers and dark chocolate used to thicken the sauce. Chefs who do this stuff for a living will tell you that an alternative thickener is blood – I like idea of using chocolate. For dessert we ate the truffles and mousse (goes well with prosecco/champaign), in addition to slices of truffle cake (I think it pairs well with a mild-bodied red wine).
All in all the Laughing Lemon cooking school is one of the coolest things to do in Zurich, rivaling a club night at Kaulfleuten, summiting the Glärnish, or even jamming to Karaoke from Hell at Mascotte on Tuesday night.
But the test of any class is not what you learn during the lecture, but what you’re inspired to do after you go home. I got inspired to bake a chocolate truffle cake.
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They’re simple things to make; nothing but chocolate and butter and sugar and eggs.  Melt chocolate in a double set-up, it’s not rocket science.  However, not having an electric mixer of my own, a chocolate truffle cake is more work than you’d think. Egg whites just don’t whip up easily (like when Martha does it on TV) when you’re going it all manually with a whisk. In the end, it didn’t look like the one in any cookbook, but I’m not dead yet and still have time to perfect my technique.

Buffalo

The best part of visiting your old home in Michigan when you live in Switzerland is getting the chance to taste the flavors that you can’t get in Europe. Although I didn’t hit up Taco Hell I did sautée Buffalo. Many people think I’m a vegetarian, possibly because I usually talk about chick peas and tofu curry when the topic of food comes up. The truth is I’m an omnivore (minus the fois gras) and buffalo is the only meat I really like to eat. I don’t hunt them in the wild and pull out their warm hearts to set their spirits free, but I do cook them with onions and whiskey.

Essential ingredient

First I sautée the onions in Plugra. Plugra is like the most awesome stuff to sautée in. It’s basically a high priced butter from Europe, something like a Western version of Ghee, but those in-the-know might correct me and it might just be over priced clarified butter. Plugra doesn’t need to be refrigerated and melts on contact with any heated thing.

Ingredients

Next drop in the buffalo, break up the meat and add whiskey. American or Canadian whiskey is needed, none of that blended foolishness from the islands.

Add sauce

Add barbecue sauce near the end. I also use Detroit Greek Town seasoning, meant to invoke the flavors of the Greek-ethnic restaurant/casino part of Detroit. The food from Greek Town is so good that it rivals the offerings I found in Athens. The seasoning is a bit of a gimick, but I use it anyways.

Add sauce

It helps to wear a tie and aviator sunglasses. Take your picture in front of dried New Mexico peppers if possible.

What to wear

Serve in a warm pita with yogurt cheese. Eat while watching Sex and the City or a comparable DVD like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or Malcolm X, the Road Warrior would also be a good choice.

Up close

Before heading back to Europe be sure to follow up by heading to the shooting range and popping off 200+ rounds of .22 ammo from your bolt-action rifle; because, to my current knowledge doing that in Zurich is as rare as finding buffalo in a Swiss food store.

Cooking United States Buffalo Whiskey

The Gonzo New Year

Editor’s Note: The following was recieved this evening from an undisclosed location in the postal code of Zurich, Switzerland. The return address was scrowlled with GONZO and sent C.O.D. We accepted the charge, of course, for our man in Zurich has always come through on deadline, but this may be his last submission to the magazine. Our fact checkers are working overtime to track down the details, but it appears as though our correspondant in Europe has taken a vacation from his mind after the first day back in the office after the start of the New Year. Any information you can provide may prove invaluable to his safe return as a regular contributer to this fine publication.

Gonzo

The first work day of 2007 – I woke with some sort of deep hatred for the notion of any industrious or worthwhile pursuits in life. Why did I get out of bed? I should have hid there under the covers, locked the door and pulled the blinds and ridden out the first waves of fear and madness as the Hell of the New Year began to loom right straight in front of me.

Recoil…throw the demon back into its pit and board up the door to its lair. But this won’t do, trying to skip the New Year is like trying to ignore your birthday. We invented the concept of time – but God Dammit, why can’t we just turn the clocks off and stay in bed? This is the year of paradox and regret, you see – the culmination of my PhD nightmare is set for a finishing date in July of 2007 and I’m responsible for getting myself into it. How will it all play out? How will the beast develop?

You dropped my fool soul on this Earth dear Lord, and now I have to deal with it. Now there’s my mistakes to account for – July, Oh dear Lord, why did I tell them I’d have my PhD finished by July!!!! Nothing is quite so difficult and revolting to the mind and nerves than trying to smile at 8 a.m. and say "Frohes neues Jahr" to everyone at the office. Why yes, "a Happy New Year to you as well." You fall in love and everything is going great, that’s the time to freak out you see – that’s when the hammer comes cracking down and splits the fool head all across your white wall.

No padding on these, no sir – I haven’t’ been committed yet and am still allowed to roam free with all the healthy heads though rooms with solid walls and door frames. Yes…Happy fucking New Year. I’m screwed and making a B-line for the responsiblility-free environment of the nearest asylum, what’s your resolution? I know a phychiatrist you see, she’ll check me into a fine Swiss Head-Hospital, no questions asked.

The Great Shark Hunt – The Death of Ruben SalazarAztlan – and the ’72 Campaign Trail. Oh, why God, why did I read those fool articles. Thompson’s (Hunter S.) words fill your head with violent musings of vile words and aggressive sentence structures. A cookbook for bleak outlooks and depressive premonitions.

There’s no guarantee you see, no real concrete words are on any books anywhere saying that anything will work out in 2007. And why – Oh why God did I complicate matters by putting in that application for the research stay in Japan? A two month stay in Japan, and the dissertation is supposed to be finished and submitted before stepping on the plane. What if I’m actually accepted and sent to Tokyo? I’m too crazy to turn down a trip like that. Let’s not face the Bastard, let’s jump off the ship before the iceberg and airlift ourselves away to Greece.

Sweet Home

The last time I was at the house I grew up in – my physical anchor in life, was just after my trip to California in March. After I visited Kate in SanFran, after the wine tour and the Wild Things T-shirt, and the excellent Thai dinner, I flew home to Detroit. Sometimes when you’ve been away for a long time, you want to get back to your roots. Recall things from the childhood dream and get a taste for what it would be like to be back in that post womb phase of your life. Climbing trees was a hobby of mine as far back as I can remember. If it was summer or winter I would often be found hanging and climbing in the front yard. My favorite tree was a weeping willow. It had died many years ago, but still had strength in its branches despite the little critters that ate it from the inside out. Its knots and branches were excellent training ground for what would later become rock and later ice. I even practiced with my ice tools on its decaying trunk. So it was with sadness that I learned it had been cut down. I had wanted to do the job myself, but my father had had other plans and a professional cut the beast up into manageable pieces. This was not good enough. It was my tree. I had become a part of it, it had trained me in my vertical escapades, and now I did what any tree climber would do to the teacher whom now lay butchered on the lawn. I finished the fucking job. My tool of choice was a double bladed axe my grandmother had given me for my birthday many moons ago. I twisted and twirled the double bladed Viking blade around my body like Connan the Barbarian. Behind the back, around the head, get the momentum going,

Thunk!

The chopping

I sliced through the decayed masses like fingers through warm butter over nan at a tandoor festival. The deed honed my arms and I felt one with the willow as I had years ago when I swung from and scaled its body. The end had come. I tossed the split pieced into the woods to nourish the next generation and silently thanked the Great Spirit for this tree that had nourished my climbing ambitions. Our circle was now complete.

California

Let’s backtrack, let’s go back in time. Let me explain some history, some events that I never wrote about. During late April and early March I was in San Diego for the SPIE 2006 Smart Materials conference. My presentation got finished the night before I gave it and I felt drunk the whole time. Not because I "was" drunk. No, no, there was some sort of jetlag sickness afoot. Every time I moved too fast my motor skills lost their grounding and I had to scramble to regain my balance. The coffee probably didn’t help; I was drinking large volumes of it to stay awake. Nine hours of jetlag seems like a good idea when Zurich is cold and grey. But it was somewhat grey in San Diego as well, so my soul saw no immediate justification for the turning of the inner clock on its head. Ah, but soon the conference was over with. Done, extinguished, and as generally happens I wondered what the point was. I stopped by the airport early Thursday morning to catch an Alamo shuttle and soon was getting lost somewhere around La Jolla – looking for Highway 1 and views of the fabled Pacific coast. I got on the main road eventually and things began to fall into place. Not on the philosophical or emotional, or even the metaphysical level (not that I know what those are anyways). No, nothing was solved and nothing mattered. I just felt at peace because I didn’t have to do anything. I made my way up to Big Sur. It’s a favorite topic on photography forums in reference to travel in California. Everyone wants to know what highway to drive up for the best views. Few ever ask about what trail to hike up. They say anywhere on Highway 1 is timeless, and they’re right.

Somewhere along Highway 1

But after the plane ride, sitting in conference talks, and now in a car seat for unforeseeable hours, I was desperate to feel squishy ground below my Chaco sandaled feet. Having no camping gear I opted for a day hike and found myself moving quickly up Mt. Manuel. The park pamphlet said it was 3000 feet high towards the sky. I was worried at first, I’m getting fat in my old age and rather enjoy doing nothing, but there was no need to question the need to explore. My feet were light and moved fast through the tree-lined trails. I pulled out my tripod and held it like a sniper rifle. I imagined myself as some sort of rebel in the jungle. Not the kind backed by the CIA of course, no, the true rebel, the one who had taken all the money and guns the CIA had given him, and then started his own covert agency. Or maybe something more akin to a Zapatista. I could have turned back when I saw there were still patches of snow on the trail. But I knew these thoughts to be craziness. I pushed on and reached the sunny top before my feet froze in the snow.

My View

The view, of course, was worth it. To the East were the snow capped peaks of California. To the West, a blue horizon and a peaceful Pacific wind. In between these vistas I found myself, my dirty feet, my soaked blue jeans and in my mouth the last satisfying bites of a tomato and avocado sandwich. Like Tyler said, "Nothing was solved, but nothing mattered."

The End View