Crank up the Basel
Our final day in Gimmelwald was spent mostly playing pool while we waited for our clothes to dry in this special room with clotheslines and some sort of dehumidifier (in other words the fucking slowest way of drying clothes I’ve ever seen, taking eight hours just to do two loads).
Caught a gondola to a bus to a train and finally arrived in Basel around 21:30 or so. Our hostel, the YMCA, is located literally less than a minute from the train station, making it easy to find (or so you would think). It actually took us a good fifteen minutes to realize that it was on the opposite end of the station from where we got out. Surmounting this intellectual Olympus, we finally rolled in to where the cowboys and police men roam and checked out our digs. For an eight bed dorm it was unusually comfortable, and the place definitely has character (each wall being split down the middle between obnoxious colors, and all of the furniture in a minimalist, modern style), this of course justifying a few extra franks on the bill.
It wasn’t long before we got back out to the train station and asked around for some places to celebrate Swiss Day. One group of three girls on bikes explained that they were quite unpatriotic but they were going to a cool outdoor bar that we were welcome to join them at if we decided to nix the pursuit of red and white. And so we did.
Took the tram to a wide alley, the walls of which were decorated with graffiti (mostly Swiss save the occasional sprinkling of English words like CRACK, GHETTO, or G THANG). Occasionally there’s a loud hissing sound from the other side of the wall followed by the combustion of a lone firework in the sky. Even the coop, Switzerland’s main supermarket chain, sells them. The alley took us to a skate bowl located in the middle of an old, abandoned-seeming parking lot.
We crossed a portion of abandoned tracks over to a bar in the distance, playing some filler electro music and crowded with people of all ages. We’re introduced to some other friends and all is well. I look over at Ben to see some middle aged woman patting him on the chest and shoulder and I inquire what happened. Apparently, he had been grabbing his beer when he was stricken with a painful sizzle on his underarm; the bitch had burned him with her cigarette.
Shortly after we decided to check out the rest of the scene, beginning with a heavy metal club outside of which people tended fires made in garbage cans and wheelbarrows. Ben and I enjoyed the company of some other locals, who explained to us that Switzerland used to have similar cannabis policies to the Netherlands; it was only four years ago that it became illegal once more.
Once we had our fill of them we made it over to the nearby electro outdoor dance floor, which was bordered by a wall of wooden platforms of the kind forklifts fit in to so that heavy material can be lifted. Very cool.
Then we all sat down and chilled out, talking about American music and movies, etc. Ben, eager to escape the forty minute walk we were doomed to by the no longer running trams, asked one of our friends how he was getting home. Once he explained that his friend was giving him a ride, we knew that we were in. It was only a matter of time before we were cruising with the window down and the Jurassic 5 up.
In Switzerland it’s very common to whistle at, blow kisses to, and shout at girls that you pass; these dudes were no exception. I would like to hear of even one case in all of history where making kissy faces at a girl from the car window has lead to any action.
Got home late, ready to sleep in after an eventful first night in Basel
