Zurich

In Zurich, the European North meets the South. Here are the industrial elements, the newer brutalist structures alongside the angular yet elaborate gothic heritage, the heavy road and tram network, the high-rise offices. Also here, the sun-drenched lake, the winding steep cobbled streets, shuttered villa-like houses with balconies, the intricacy and luxury of a small town rather than gritty metropolis. The blend of geographical references (Germany, Holland, Italy, Spain) is reflected in the presence of an array of languages: German, Swiss German (which takes much from French), English, Italian even. Are they quite sure of their own identity, or is their identity the perfect combination of all of Western Europe, sitting as it does somewhat in the middle?

There is an ornate aesthetic and architectural heritage, tempered by a contemporary language of stripped back design and functional living. But through it all, remains colour. There is an abundance of bold colour in Zurich, from buildings of brightly different hues standing next to one other, to the artful notes of currency. This might lie in subtle contrast, however, to the apparent conservatism of the sporty, self-controlled, Swiss (I am told). But relaxed leisurely atmospheres are found, of course. One night I found myself in a small, leafy square surrounded by a rainbow of buildings, themselves with different coloured shutters, called 'Rosenhof'. Never have I admitted to myself liking 'restaurant spill-out', that term appropriated to death by practitioners of urban regeneration in England, which struggles of course to have a climate suitable to such a thing. There was a young Bossanova band playing on an incredibly balmy night, to a crowd of both restaurant goers and people lounging on stone steps with their own food and drink.  I suppose I'm trying to illustrate my point, albeit through recounting what must sound like a horrifically clichéd anecdote. On the other hand, the city centre around the train station and 'main' shopping streets, dominated by busy roads and large stores, feels industrial, and impersonal. 

Zurich is a city of water: a river, a lake, a canal, even imaginative and sculptural water fountains at most corners. Next to the water are countless places to enjoy it, whether swimming piers, bars, open-air cinemas, restaurants, sports courts; even in winter, I hear, the Swiss are greatly embracing of the outdoors and water's edge. A refreshing change to the critically under-utilised water resources in other cities (read: London).

Before this descends (ascends?) into a travel blog, I will call quits. Zurich is the best of a lot of European culture, in my opinion, not to mention landscape. But there are elements of the gritty romanticism of Paris it lacks, along with the enabling diverse expanse of London, or the charged atmosphere of Barcelona; elements which are somehow needed to feel as if you are part of a true city.

City Break

A quiet street, shop shutters drawn, barely anyone in sight. Lights off, doors locked.

No, this is not a sleepy ghost town; it's summer in Paris. Everyone makes it clear that the residents vacate the city of love in August, but it doesn't hit home until you see it; even friends of mine who have lived there for years still voice surprise at the annual - and mass - evacuation. It's eerie, and it's highly frustrating. The places I want to go are closed. Shops have handwritten notes in the window, announcing their 3 week break, and 'bonnes vacances!'

This accepted month of holiday from the metropolis, the Sunday of the year, the urban pause so widespread in Paris it feels like an institution - well I find it peculiar, but I also admire it profoundly. I cannot imagine a business shutting in London for a month because 'it's the holidays!' There's work to be done, surely. But because there seems to be some kind of pact in France, it's clearly feasible and businesses survive the break. It's quite a captivating thing, the city that goes on holiday. The normal stress is put aside, dissolved. Is it pretending work doesn't exist, though, or is this really how life, and business, should be conducted? Does living in a city require an annual block month's break away from it? Or is it simply that work cannot and should not be continual, that we need to remind ourselves of the bigger picture?

There is always a certain atmosphere associated with summer: of freedom. And this sort of freedom relates to the outdoors; an outdoors which is often stifling, polluted and short on green space in cities. This freedom to escape the continual urban affair and the work that necessarily goes with it is a beautiful antidote to the anxieties of the capitalist system, to the belief that money and business must always come first.

Cities are wonderful places but a break can never be a bad thing. A good city should facilitate, expand and diversify your life and your ambitions; it is a place to inhabit, not that inhibits. Cities are not machines and neither are we; so shut up shop and vacate the streets for a while. 

Bonnes vacances.