Plucky Survivors See Europe Day 23: Genoa to Zurich

If I was going to play FMK with Italian cities, it would be F Rome, marry Venice, cheat on Venice with Florence, slap Milan just to see what it would do, and kill Genoa. 

Happy to leave the latter behind, I headed north again and soon found myself in the Alps, driving through some of the most stunning scenery on the planet.  Again, I say, the pictures don’t do it justice.  I was struggling with a more poetic way of saying “it’s really pretty” but all I could come up with is this: be it city or countryside, so many places merely take up space as if knowing the ground beneath them was there long before they were and will be there long after they are gone.  But this land seems to have been forged with a permanence that automatically bestows grandeur that is at once enlivening and humbling.

That’s probably all the chocolate I’ve just eaten speaking.  More on that in a moment.

Traffic moved quickly except just before the Gotthard Tunnel in Switzerland.  When it opened in 1980, it was the longest tunnel in the world at more than 10 miles.  Today it’s the seventh longest, but it takes about 20 minutes to get through it.  There was a major fire in the tunnel in 2001 that killed a bunch of people so ever since then, they regulate traffic through it, which involves sitting in a long line at a red light in the middle of the freeway.

Not long after the tunnel, there was some sort of major incident on the road ahead of me so Google Maps routed me off on a two-lane highway that ran right alongside Lake Lucerne, and it was so stunning that I was reduced back to just “it’s really pretty.”

I made it to Zurich at around 2pm and had another Adventures in Parking experience trying to cram PluckyMobile into the hotel’s underground garage, which seems to have been designed for golf carts, not Audi station wagons.

The Central Plaza Hotel is about as aptly named as you can get, right in the center of Zurich with the historic Niederdorf and Lindenhof neighborhoods just a few steps away.

My first stop was a late lunch at Brasserie Johanniter, a traditional Swiss restaurant.  I started with garlic bread, because that’s what you want when it’s 97 degrees outside, but shut up – it sounded good and apparently it’s very popular in Switzerland.  Has something to do with fondue, I guess.

Then I moved on to the spatzli with ham, roasted onions, and gratinated cheese.  It you want to be reductive, it’s mac and cheese with ham and onions, but a million times better.  The top was crunchy, the noodles were delicate and soaking with cheese, and the ham was so savory it practically popped out of the dish.  I could eat this at every meal.

Side story.  I had a good laugh with the waiter because I keep saying phrases in Italian like “grazie” instead of in German like “danke.”  It’s been hurting my head going from German to Czech back to German then a week in Italian and now German again, with French tomorrow. 

But when I said “grazie” to the waiter, he looked at me funny and I realized what I had done and said, “I mean, danke schoen.”  I said, in English I might add, “No, I was confused for a moment.  I am from Italy and for a moment I was thinking I had greeted you in Italian by mistake.”

By the way, when your waiter speaks Italian, German, and English fluently, it’s enough to make you feel really, really dumb.

I wandered around for the next couple of hours, getting back that goofy grin I had on my face when I was walking around Prague.  This area of Zurich is like a fairytale, with Swiss/European architecture, cobblestone streets, wide boulevards and narrow side streets, and tons of cafes, boutiques, and bars.  I saw a McDonald’s, a Starbucks, and an Apple Store, but the vast majority of the shops were places I have never heard of, so it felt authentic and “homemade.”

One photo of note… a big blue cow above a restaurant.  Her name is Heidi.  In original Plucky Survivors road trips, this would’ve been worth some major scavenger hunt points.

I did have somewhat of a mission on my wandering and that was to get a piece or two of chocolate from as many different chocolate places as I could find.  When in Switzerland, I say.  I had done a bunch of research to find the best ones but wound up finding even more and stopped at six of them.

And no, I didn’t buy something at all six.  I bought something at five of them.  The Lindt store was underwhelming and the sales lady was rude when I refused the sample she offered, even after I explained my nut allergy. 

I visited Vollenweider, family owned since 1943 and got a milk chocolate and liquid caramel square plus a raspberry crème heart.  Then it was on to Max Chocolatier, which has only been around since 2009, but is a small, family-run company that makes everything by hand.  From them I got the Rio Huimbi 42%, with milk chocolate ganache and fruity caramel; a Karamell & Passionsfrucht (caramel and passionfruit) in milk chocolate; and the limoncello, with white butter ganache.  Next was Madeline, where I got another milk chocolate caramel and a chocolate truffle; Laderach, where I bought a chocolate ganache heart and white chocolate truffle; and finally, Favarger, where I got a hunk of white chocolate raspberry plaques fine (chocolate bar). 

They were all fantastic, but I think I’m going to have give the crown to Max Chocolatier.  They use no preservatives and their chocolate changes seasonally, so they ensure the highest quality and the freshest product.  This was eyes-rolling-back-in-your-head type of chocolate, and I may have to order some when I get home.  They ship internationally.

I would be remiss if I didn’t give a runner up prize to the white chocolate raspberry from Favarger.  If that was around all the time I’d have a problem.

A looming thunderstorm sent me scurrying back to the hotel but as soon as it was done, I went back out and did some more wandering.  Guess what I found?  A casino.  It was lovely.  I didn’t win.

I am enchanted by Zurich and fully intend to come back someday when I can spend more time exploring the city properly.  But Plucky Adventures wait for no one, so tomorrow it’s off to Dijon, the final pitstop before a week in Paris.