Zach in Zug

“The caged bird sings/with a fearful trill/of things unknown/but longed for still/and his tune is heard/on the distant hill/for the caged bird/sings of freedom.” ~Maya Angelou, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings”

April 16, 2013
The bedrooms in the house all had shades on the windows. They were effective at doing their job to keep sunlight out. As a result, waking up at 9am felt like waking up at 5am. There absolutely no light in the room.

I got up and took a shower before going upstairs. Mary and Dale had parent teacher conferences today so they were back in their room getting ready. Cole and Will were playing in the living room and I didn’t see Gabrielle.

The history book that Mary and Dale had shown me yesterday—called Swiss Made—was sitting on the kitchen table. I cracked it open to the chapter on chocolate. It was interesting to see how chocolate had been an important social and economic development in Switzerland. I also had no idea that companies like Nestle came from Switzerland.

When everyone was out and ready, we had Cheerios for breakfast before heading out. The plan was, that Mary and Dale would drop me in the town of Zug, before continuing on with Cole and Will to their parent teacher conferences. One conference was from 11:00-12:00 and the other from 12:00-1:00. They planned to drop me off in Zug, and then come back to pick me up around 2:15.

Zug is like the Delaware of Switzerland. It has the lowest corporate tax rate in the country so most businesses incorporate in this canton. It also sits on Lake Zug (almost every town in Switzerland has its own lake) which is at the base of some of the tallest Alps in Switzerland.

The drive to Zug was beautiful. We had to go over a number of vibrant green passes and switch-backed roads. We passed a rabbit farm that had floppy eared bunnies the size of goats (I’m not exaggerating…they were massive!)

As we entered the town, Mary said, “We like to count the construction cranes in a town to see how it’s doing. Construction is generally a good sign of a growing economy.” Zug certainly had plenty of construction cranes.

When we arrived in Zug, we picked a spot to meet at 2:15. There was a statue of some saint in the center of a little roundabout. We decided this would be a good spot.

“I can just hop out here too,” I said, not wanting to keep them from getting to school.

“Ok,” Mary said. “We’ll see you at 1:15.”

“Look out for the bike,” Dale said. His warning came too late. I’d already opened my door and the cyclist coming up behind us had squealed on his brakes.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as I got out of the car. He smiled and motioned for me to continue. I waved goodbye to the gang in the car, and they pulled away.

The first thing I saw was the police station. I figured that was a good thing to see when exploring a city alone (then again, in Terezin they proved 100% ineffective so maybe not.) Cutting through a little ally by the square, I found myself in the center of town—it was A center at least. There were restaurants all around, and beautiful view of the docks down by Lake Zug.

Walking towards the docks I passed an exhibit of some sort. I didn’t give it much attention on my way out onto the dock. From the dock, I had a breathtaking view. I’m very proud of the mountains I have back home, but these Alps put our mountains to shame. These are massive and jagged. Between their rocky summits and the porcelain water of Lake Zug, it again looked like I was walking through a painting.

I snapped a million photos before walking back up to the center. This was when I realized that the exhibit I passed was a bird exhibit. Like something out of a zoo, giant pens were filled with trees and birds of all different sizes and colors. There were large red parrots and graceful grey storks, along with little multi-colored critters that squawked in various noises. All around the exhibit were apple and cherry trees, all in full bloom for spring. It looked and smelled amazing.

I walked down along the walking trail on the lake front. The buildings throughout Zug were large and modern looking, but not in an industrial way. The architecture was still artistic and sculpted. Everything about the city seemed artistic, and I couldn’t get enough of those mountains across the water.

Around one side of the lake was a large water spout, spraying mist into the air. Ducks of every size, shape, and color played in the water and climbed on the rocks. Around this point, the trail passed through a colorful mosaicked underpass and around to the other side of the lake. On the other side, there were rows and rows of gardens and decorative flowers.

After walking a little further, I decided to loop back up into town. Crossing the street, I found myself in a large park with tons of kids playing. It’s funny to note the cities I’ve been in that have kids visible verses those that don’t I don’t see a lot of kids in Prague, nor did I in Munich, Salzburg, or Amsterdam. In Barcelona and here, they are all over.

Wrapping through streets wasn’t as interesting—there weren’t a lot of people out and about—so I walked back down to the lake front. On my way down, I found another exhibit, this one on different types of trees in Switzerland. I couldn’t tell if these different displays (the birds, the trees) were for tourists or for locals. They were all in German so I assumed they probably weren’t aimed at tourists. In that case, it gives me the impression that public education is important to the Swiss people.

When I came to Zug capital building, I walked around it a bit to take some photos. In one of the gardens, I found pink dandelions. Yellow was the only color I was familiar with, so I snapped some photos of the little flowers.

Across from the city building was the post office. It was another impressive looking structure so I crossed the street to take a photo of it. As I walked around it, I saw a long staircase leading up a steep hill.

That looks interesting, I thought, so I decided to climb it.

Walking up it I passed through a large green field. In the field was a white, black, and orange calico cat. Mary had pointed a few of these critters out to me on out hike the other day. Apparently, different farmers keep cats in their fields to keep mice and other rodents out. The cats can be vicious guard animals and very territorial of their fields.

At the top of the hill—or at least the part where the stairs leveled off—was a putt-putt golf course. It only had nine holes and none of them were very long (probably a “par 2.”) The walking path continued to a set of stairs that led down into another wing of the city.

Walking down the stairs and along the gutter in the road, I passed some beautiful houses and decorative buildings. I passed a school were a bunch of kids were playing basketball outside in the courtyard. Just beyond the school was an impressive medieval fortress.

I’d found one! A castle!

This castle was the Zug Burg. Burg is a German word for “castle” in the sense of “fortress” or “government building.” “Schloss” is the German word for castle in reference to a royal family’s home.

Unfortunately, the Zug Burg was closed for renovation so I call do was walk along its large, jagged grey wall and look up at the white tower inside. It looked like a birdhouse almost; at the top of a tall white column was a large wooden house. This entire structure was surrounded by the wall. That was the Zug Burg.

As I came to one side of the Burg, I saw a huge church with a large garden behind it. Walking through the garden, I found a large tomb with a huge statue on top. Initially, I thought it was Mary crying over the body of Christ, but I noticed that the man was basically clean shaven and balding. His side was pierced and he was wrapped in cloth the way Christ is normally depicted, post-crucifixion, but this didn’t look like Jesus; it looked like a 16^th century nobleman.

Around the front of the church, I found a crucifix. It was a large flowery cross with a relatively small Jesus on it. A skull sat at the base of the statue.

I wondered if I could go inside the church. No one was around, and this certainly was not a touristy town, but I figured it was worth a try. I walked up to the main entrance and tried the first door. It didn’t move.

Locked!

I walked across the steps and tried the second door.

With a loud creak, it swung open. Success! (Lizzy would be so proud!)

The sanctuary was a bright white room, with a beautiful arched ceiling and a colorful mural above the altar. The only stained glass windows were directly behind the cross at the front of the room. The other windows let in normal day light, while various paintings of Mary and Christ decorated the walls around the sanctuary.

As I walked in, I heard the sound of metal clinking into metal. Turning the corner, I saw an older woman emptying the collection plate into a small metal box.

She looked up at me and smiled.

“Are pictures ok?” I asked, holding out my camera.

She nodded, and returned to what she was doing. Within a few minutes, she relocked the box and walked back into the sacristy.

I walked around taking photos of the altar, the confession boxes, and statues. Some of the statues were gilded and glistened while others were wooden and dull.

As I snapped a photo of one painting of a wounded Christ, the door to side the church swung open. A woman wearing a green suit coat and skirt, and white high heeled shoes came stumbling in. She looked around a little as her eyes adjusted to the lighting in the room. When she saw me, she shut the door and came scurrying over.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” she asked.

“No,” I shook my head.

“English?” she asked. The way she pronounced it sounded like “ang-lush.”

I nodded.

“Can you help me?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “There is a woman here who might be able to help you. Do you need a Priest?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t need a priest. I just need a people.”

“Ok?” I said, a little hesitant. “What do you need?”

“Follow me,” she said, heading back for the door.

Well that escalated quickly…Everything inside of me told me not to follow her. This could be a scam. This could be a set up. I had no idea who she was, where she was going, or what might be waiting for me on the other side of that door.

But I followed her.

Outside, we started walking through the garden. “My name is Silvia,” she said. “What is yours?”

Don’t tell your name…don’t tell her your name… I thought.

“Zach,” I said. No! You told her your name!!!

“I am from Kosovo,” she said. “You?”

Don’t say America, don’t say America…

“America,” I said.

Her face lit up. “You came just to Zug?” she asked.

“To Zurich,” I said. “My…my…I’m staying with my aunt for a few days.”

Great! Now I figured out how to lie…little late Zach!

“And how long are you in Zug?” she asked.

“Just today,” I said.

“Ok,” she said, finding a bench and sitting down. “Sit, sit,” she said. Her English was decent, a little broken, but her accent was thick.

“I have lived in Zug for three years,” she said. “I came here from my country. I worked for a big company, and took care of my three kids. They are…” she hesitated. “I don’t know the numbers in English.”

“That’s okay,” I said.

“I lost my job two months ago,” she said. “I’ve been looking but the economy here is not very good. I can’t find a job. Today my land lady tells me if I don’t pay the rent tonight, I have to leave tomorrow.”

“Ok,” I said, playing dumb just a little.

“My kids and I have no family here, and nowhere to go,” she said.

“Ok,” I said again.

“I just need 300 Francs to pay the rent,” she said. “Can you help me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t.”

“No?” she said. “Why not?”

“I don’t have any money,” I lied.

“No money,” she said.

“No,” I said. “It’s all at my aunt’s house.”

“But you are an American,” she said. “You can get money.”

(Actually that’s my government, I thought to myself.) “No,” I said. “I can’t. I have no way to get money.” I pulled out my pockets to show they were empty. My wallet was inside my passport keeper under my clothes.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I thought to Jesus, I came to church, and he gave me an American. Don’t you see? You are supposed to help me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I do not have any money on me. I don’t have any way to get money.”

 “But my kids!” she said, starting to cry. “I don’t ask for me. I ask for my kids. I just need…” she said something in German, and kept repeating the word over and over again.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said, feeling sorry for her. “I don’t know any German.”

She collected herself a little.

“So you really can’t help me,” she said.

A little lump formed in my throat seeing how torn up she was.

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Ok,” she said. “Will you at least think to Jesus for me and my kids.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Ok,” she said. “Thank you.”

We got up and she walked off. I went back inside the church to snap a few more photos.

I felt bad for her. Part of me genuinely believed her, but not enough to be sure. Either way, college students travelling around Europe don’t have the resources to hand over $300 to anyone. There are days I feel homeless trying to figure out where to get food and what not. I genuinely hope that Silvia and her kids are ok, but I didn’t feel there was anything I could do for them.

Along the street the church was on were some little Zen gardens and sitting areas, between more office buildings and shops. Many of the buildings had the same airbrushed paint designs that I’d seen in Munich. Switzerland has a great blend of cultures from Germany, France, and Italian and different parts of each tradition can be found in different parts of the country.

At the end of the street, I could see a large bell tower further up the hill. It looked like a huge, stone silo with a pointed wooden roof. I went to cross the street to get a better look. There were a few cars coming, so I waited for them. As they approached, they started to honk at me. The driver in the front started making frantic motions for me to cross. I waved apologetically and did so.

Apparently jay-walking was acceptable here.

As I snapped a few pictures of the bell tower, the bells started to chime that it was noon. In addition to this tower, the bell from the church I’d been in and a few others started to ring out as well. The funny thing though, was none of them were in sync. When it came time for the twelve chimes to indicate the hour, the different beats sounded like 20 or 30 chimes instead of 12.

Realizing I had about 90 minutes to two hours before Mary and Dale would be picking me back up, I decided to go track down something to eat. Crossing back over the street, this time I walked out in front of the oncoming traffic—which was still a good 50 yards or so away. Once again, the cars leaned on their horns.

I just can’t figure this traffic thing out!

Winding back passed the church and the Burg, I climbed back up the side streets and towards the Putt-Putt course. As I reached the top, I saw a sign that said, “Rosengarten Guggi,” with an arrow pointing further up the hill. I figured that meant “rose garden…something” so I went to take a look.

I didn’t actually see any flowers or gardens, but I found a bench on top of the hill, surrounded by shade trees and overlooking the panorama of Lake Zug.

It was beautiful.

As I sat, I thought about this whole notion of Swiss government and what I’d observed. It seems in Switzerland, the key to the peace, neutrality, and freedom that they have unendingly enjoyed for generations has been their strict economic policies and social discipline. If I think about this, it seems to reveal a great universal truth: true freedom requires accountability and discipline. If I look at my own trip as an analogy, the only way I can continue to enjoy the freedom of jumping around Europe is manage my money, keep track of my belongings, and make plans and contingencies for what I am going to do in each situation. Freedom is not just doing what you want when you want; its knowing how to do what you want to do.

I also started thinking of home. My thought was once again how will I ever go home? This is just too much fun!

After sitting for about thirty minutes and taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of the hills of Zug, I decided I really should go track down some food. Walking back to the steps, and down into Zug, I circled around back to that first courtyard. All of the restaurants had outdoor seating with menus on the table. I picked on up to check the prices before I sat down.

The cheapest thing I could find was 34 Francs!

This was as expensive as everyone said it was. I walked around a bit, checking a few different menus, but everything was in the same price range. It was funny, at one point, I found a restaurant that had a Pilsner-Urquell sign in the window (advertising that they served Czech beer.) I found myself thinking that reminds me of home before realizing, I was using the word “Home” to describe Prague now.

I finally found a restaurant that had a lunch special for 19 Francs. I had no idea what it was, but I ordered it. It turned out, once I saw the food, Switzerland really isn’t “expensive” per se, it’s just a good value. For 19 francs, I got a strudel (filled with carrots, celery, and cheese), a bowl of broccoli soup,  a pasta salad, and some bread. After tasting the food and looking at prices across the industries in Switzerland, the conclusion I could really draw on was that the Swiss value quality, and they expect to be paid for that quality. “Cheap” is not an option because they are not interested in producing “cheap” things.

After I finished eating and paid my bill, I went and wandered through the shopping district of Zug. It was funny to see that the sidewalks were raised above the street by about 3 or 4 feet. The shops were all at this level and there were steps at the end of the block to get up from street level to “walking” level.

I found a museum on the history of the fishing industry in Switzerland (although I didn’t go inside.) I also found a few beautiful clock towers with bright red clock faces and snapped some photos of them. In the end, since I had about 40 minutes till they came to get me, I decided to walk along the lake a little bit more.

As I walked, I came to a group of students (probably high school aged) who were carrying signs, playing instruments, and singing songs. While I couldn’t read the German on their signs, I could make out the word “Peru.” They were carrying around jars and hats. My guess is they were raising money for some human rights campaign in Peru. If this is true, it is the first act of charity I’ve witnessed in Europe.

The kids all spoke German when they weren’t singing, but all of the songs they sang were American 60’s tunes (such as “My Girl” and “Buttercup”.) When they sang, they sang in a flawless American accent.

Looping further down the lakeside than I had before, I found myself on another dock. This dock was significantly different from the others. This one was lined with yachts. Swans were swimming between them, splashing and playing in the water. Along the lakefront were magnolia trees with massive blossoms that smelled amazing. I took a seat on a bench so I could snap some pictures of the birds and the boats before heading back into town.

On my way back around the square, I bought some mango gelato from a street vendor. I noticed, as it was getting to be afternoon, there a ton of teenagers hanging out by the lake, eating ice cream or other treats while they chatted by the water.

Passing by the police station, I noticed a few more museums—one called Zollhaus and another Zytrum—but didn’t look too much into them. I sat by the statue I was supposed to meet  my group at and scrolled through my photos from the day. The sign by the statue I was at read “Gangerplatz” and I knew from my German lesson in Munich that that meant “Ganger Plaza” or “Ganger Square.” I kept one eye pealed for them, while the other looked back through the memories.

“We’re here!” I heard a little voice announce. I looked up from my camera to see Cole standing in front of me.

“OH!” I said. “I didn’t see you pull up.” He ran around the statue and I saw them parked by the curb.

Climbing in the car, we headed back to the house, sharing stories and jokes about the day .