While you folks in Boston are dragging out your down coats and beanies, the blessed residents of the alpine country of Switzerland are enjoying a beautiful Indian summer. As I sit here writing this column, the sun is pouring through my window, set off by temperatures in the seventies and a stunning blue sky.
When you think of Switzerland, what image comes to your mind? Thanks to a seriously dedicated tourism board (and more than a pinch of reality), Switzerland is often equated with rugged snowy mountains, pristine alpine meadows and clear coursing rivers. In the geological lottery, this country won big time.
And the Swiss people aren't stupid about the beauty of their country. They know they've got it, and they flaunt it. They build their houses low so as to not block the view, and refuse to put train tracks over the mountains (they blast out tunnels instead). While I live 15 minutes by bus from downtown Geneva, I can also walk ten minutes to a large pasture and be surrounded by apple trees and the familiar tinkling of bells strapped around the cows' necks (this country's love for bells will end up in every column, I swear).
Furthermore, the Swiss appreciation for the beauty of nature is not confined to the countryside. In Geneva, I have discovered a very unusual culture of urban aesthetics, something I do not believe I would ever witness in Boston. I like to think of it as the culture of gardening.
Now, believe me, I come from a family that prizes plants. I can proudly say that many childhood summers were spent watering the corn field, picking peas and cleaning up fruit under citrus trees. My mother, the green thumb of the family, certainly instilled in us a respect for bringing the beauty of nature into everyday life. Yes, the dining room table was often set with fresh-cut flowers, and yes, we thought they were pretty.
But it has become apparent to me that finding the flowers "pretty" does not come even close to how the Swiss approach their exalted flora. For days now, I have noticed a bevy of trucks and crates surrounding the small concrete island at the end of my street, which separates cars turning left and cars turning right. I was under the impression that the island was being re-concreted, or that they were fixing a sewage line underneath the asphalt.
But seriously, I should have known better than to have assumed they were doing something so practical, so aesthetically blind as re-concreting the island. This morning, amply bathed in the warm morning sun, I walked past the island, now void of trucks and crates. And what did I see? Freshly-watered topsoil and rows upon rows of young green leaves coming out of winter bulbs. Take it from me: Swiss people rip out concrete divider islands to plant flowers.
In downtown Geneva, when winter comes and the trees have dropped all their leaves, I am told quite seriously by several Genevois that municipal workers will be toiling away the cold months by installing plantings brought in from greenhouses. "You can never quite know when spring will really come," one of my friends told me, "because the flowers start blooming in January."
And while I may poke a bit of fun at the Swiss' serious dedication to natural beauty, I have to say that it's a lovely cult of civil aesthetics. Why decorate our public places with wrought iron and heavy stone when we can let nature do the work instead? In a country so obsessed with its organic food products and small-holding farms, putting nature at the forefront of its cultural aesthetics seems only proper.
Other cities and countries I have had the opportunity to visit this semester also have, for their part, a unique cultural urban aesthetic. Copenhagen oozed with colorful buildings and hordes of bikes, illustrating Scandinavia's vibrant and respectful northern culture. Paris' stunning cavalcade of stately offices and museums proved the French love for high art and culture. And Geneva, of course, stands as a platform for the world, offering a myriad of architectural styles seated around oh-so-Swiss parks and gardens.
As a young American student traveling around Europe, it is easy to get lost in the onslaught of magnificent public buildings and grandiose boulevards. But for all the massive city halls of Scandinavia and the limestone arches of Paris, I still have to hand it to the Swiss. Why spend decades building heavy stone towers and laying imposing brick buildings? In Switzerland, the people know how to live the good life - surrounded by flowers.
