Vladimir Kagan's Blog

A Visit to Worms, Germany

 

A Sentimental Journey Home

Copyright Vladimir Kagan May 28, 2012

The Heraldic Seal of Worm

 

1630 Map of Worms - the city where we was born

 

Home is where the heart is... It is amazing to say that Worms in Germany is still where a part of my heart resides... I was born there nearly 85 years ago... A medieval city nestled on the shores of the River Rhine, where Martin Luther stood in 1521 defying Pope and Kaiser with his famous Edict of Worms. Where the esteemed 11^th century Jewish scholar, Rabbi Rashi, held sway – It is home to one of the finest examples of early Romanesque architecture in Europe: St. Peter’s Cathedral - the Dom, Built in 1130 – 1181 and totally restored after the war. Worms is home to Germany's oldest (resurrected) Synagogue*, originally built in the 13^th century…It is home to the fabled Nibelungen Saga – “Das Rheingold”, which inspired Wagner’s Ring Series. Worms is nestled amongst unassuming flat lands that are home to Germany's finest vineyards. Worms was also home to many, many decent people (some, who cared for my family in time of need) and it was home to its abundant share of brutal Nazis. Like Dresden, the allies bombed the heck out of it and left 90% of it in rubbles.  Miraculously, most important landmarks, though severely damaged, survived and have been carefully restored. It is home to 83,000 people… And some sixty years later, my sister and I have met up with old classmates and folks who remembered our parents!

    *The original Synagogue in Worms was the oldest in all Geermany - built in 1234 – It was totally     demolished by the Nazis during the infamous Kristallnacht in 1939 - just months after we migrated to     America. The commune of Worms rebuilt it after the war. Jews in Worms date back to Roman times –     they came as merchants and settled in Mainz, Speyer and Worms. Today, Worms hasn’t enough Jews     to make a ”minion” the twelve people required for an Orthodox service.

     **There are people today, who cannot be reconciled to the fact that an entire nation can go Rogue…     Everyone knew of Hitler’s final solution for the Jews ‘Die Endlösung’. That the death-camps of Belsen     and Auschwitz were a fact known to all Germans. That the Holocaust was no secret. These people     would have preferred to leave the Synagogues in rubble as a permanent monument to the atrocities of     the Third Reich.

 

This was my third pilgrimage home; for my sister Tanya, it was only the second in forty years (after a brief two hour stop-over back in 1949).. It was an emotional decision for her. Was the reception going to be hostile?  It took five years of cajoling to convince her to make this journey. Tanya travels with an entourage - her ailing husband (whom she can not leave alone) a young woman caretaker, a driver and of course - me. The five of us, set off in a well-appointed Mercedes Van on our “mad-cap” adventure.

Our trip started and ended in Geneva Switzerland. To break-up a long journey, (560 km), we made some amusing stops along the way: A brief visit to the Kagan Club in Freiburg and our first overnight stop in Baden Baden . (I have described the drive in a sister article: IMPRESSIONS ALONG THE ROAD TO WORMS)

We arrived in Worms late afternoon with a thunderstorm rumbling in the distance. The city seemed smaller and more claustrophobic than we remembered... distances that were an eternity, walking on our small legs, now were only “ a hop, skip and a jump” from where we lived on Obermarkt 12. Coincidentally, our Hotel “Dom” was located right next to our old house, which had been bombed and rebuilt. The hotel was touted to be the best available in Worms; by our spoiled standards, it turned out to be more a mixture of a college dorm and a Monk’s retreat. (Years earlier I stayed in an active Monastery serving as a Hotel in Cologne). Our accommodations were very reminiscent: neat – efficient – minimal – spotlessly clean. The hotel had only one visible employee… the friendly receptionist – no porters, room service or the usual accoutrements that go with a modern luxury hotel. It did, however, serve the most delicious German breakfast complete with smoked salmon a wide selection of “wurscht – (sausages) und schinken”, cheese and crusty breads and pastries.

The square where we lived was now filled with trendy cafés, trattorias and gelato-parlors complete with umbrellas and outdoor seating replacing the food stalls that we remembered as children. Our greatest disappointment was the closure of the Cafe Lott, a landmark that had survived the Nazis, the war and the turmoil of another 60 years... The owner decided to call it quits last New Year’s Eve.

 

This is Obermarkt 12 - the house that replaced our home, complete with the residence built over the entrance to the courtyard leading to my father's workshop and Art Gallery. (the original was destroyed in an Allied bombing back in the 40s.)

  

The view from our hotel room looking at the outdoor cafes that have replaced the market stalls of sixty years ago - normally is is a-buzz with young people enjoying an afternoon "kaffeklatsch"... ) I must have taken this photo very early)

   

For our first night’s dinner, we chose to go down to the Rhine; surely we’d find a suitable restaurant... and indeed we did. In the drenching rain, we stumbled into the Kolbe Brauhaus, a building dating from the 1800s that survived the bombs. Low ceilinged, filled with cheerful drinking patrons… we skulked in, somewhat hesitantly, and were given seating in a small dining room in the rear. Germans, with a few good beers in their bellies, become a noisy bunch… the ten people on the other table were no exception. Tanya was instinctively apprehensive “Do you think that they are friendly?” I assured her that they were. As the evening progressed, our neighbors became quieter and more interested in our little strange entourage; we spoke, English, German and Portuguese.  “Und where are you from”, they asked in German – They were amazed when I said “Worms!” This naturally opened up a lively cross-table conversation. One of the men introduced himself as Jean Frank, a retired judge who turned out to be a good friend of my friend, Elke Scheiner, who also happened to be a retired judge. By the end of evening, we were all close friends, drinking to each other’s health in three languages with good German beer.

Worms as seen from the Rhein with the tower of the Nibelungen Bridge in the foreground and the Dom in the distance... to the right of the bridge is the Kolbe Brauhaus, where we had our jovial dinner

 

My old school pal from 1932, Heinz Meisenzahl and I enjoying a morning coffee chat

The next day we started our tightly scheduled 36 hours in Worms with a hardy breakfast in our hotel. Elke, the perfect organizer, produced Ulrike Schäfer, from the Wormser Zeitung, the local newspaper, to interview us. There was Dr. Jörg Koch, the head of the Europa Union and a local historian, who full of interesting Worms history… as a surprise present, he brought me a photo of myself as a two year old ‘Cossack Cowboy’, riding a wooden horse that my father had built for me. The photo was signed: “Photo by Giesen”. (The next day, we met the photographer’s daughter, Ursula Orth-Giesen, who came to greet us in a wheelchair.) She was charming, bright, and still beautiful - deep in her eighties. Our initial welcoming party included my classmate from 2nd grade (1932) Heinz Meisenzahl and his wife Sybille; Heinz is a tall robust, giant, who greeted me with a huge bear hug. Willi Johannes and his wife Regina, one of our beer-drinking friends of the night before came to escort us around town and stayed with us for two days. There were other dignitaries and just plain folks with connections to my family. By lunchtime, our small group expanded to over a dozen happy people. It was a family reunion… Baerbel Miller, who migrated to Denver back in the sixties, had moved back to Worms to take care of her aging mother, 99 years old and still in great form with a vivid memory: she remembered my parents and my Father’s store “Kunsthaus Kagan”. (Baerbel had written down her mother’s ramblings, all of which turned out to be accurate.) Her family and mine were friends. They came and brought food baskets late at night, at great peril to themselves, in defiance of the Nazi’s ruling that there was to be no intermingling between Aryans and Jews. Barbara Wand joined our table and brought photographs of a Silver cigarette box her parents bought from my father’s store. (An excellent example of post-war German modernism from the Deutche Werstatt... (It was a tribute to my father’s amazing avant-garde taste.)

 

Me... age two riding on my rocking horse which was made by my father - This photo was a present from Dr. Jörg Koch, a history professor

Our delightful lunch on the Rhine with new and old friends

Baerbel Miller with her 99 year mother (Renate Bayer is looking over their shoulders) - Me joking with Renate - I threatened to move in with her and her face tells it all! I think that her response was "God Forgive!"

The silver Cigarette Box purchases from my father's store back in the 30's by the parents of Barbara Wand

There are many, many sights In Worms to entice the visitor. In our short stay we visited the Dom, The Synagogue, the Jewish Cemetery: (It took good Christian custodians to preserve it through the Hitler years) and Traudel Mattes, our non-Jewish guide to read the Hebrew inscriptions… (Very touching).  The Martin Luther Statue was a must stop - the Rhine bridge (that both of us remembered crossing on foot as children with our parents), the famous wine estate of the Valckenberg, (The Valckenberg were great friends of my parents in the 30s. I have a vague recollection sipping wine through a rubber tasting tube in their Caves. Their world-famous Liebfrauenmilch put Germany back on the map after the war).

 

The only TRUE Liebfrauermilch, still produced in Worms by the Valkenberg family

Ursula Orth-Giesen having a laugh while looking at instant photos taken by Elke Scheiner, with the Lord-Mayor and me looking on

I did a nostalgic visit to the Dom and stood in solitude listening to the six o’clock ‘Glockenspiel’ that seemed to last an eternity. We all visited the restored Rashi Synagogue the next day, Regina Johannes, was so moved by the experience that she sang “Amazing Grace” in the empty cavernous space. Her beautiful voice resonated in the superb acoustics of this ancient building. Equally heart-warming was our visit to the ancient Jewish Cemetery, "Heiliger Sand" where there are over 3,000 graves, the oldest dating back to 1100. Attesting to the long history of the Jews in Worms. They came with the Romans and stayed.

 

Our wonderful guide, Traudel Mattes, dressed in a Jewish woman's dress and turban worn back in the 16th Century -

Tanya and I posing in a fabled indent in the Synagogue wall, a reputed miracle that happened when a pregnant woman was walking the street and a cart came careening down the narrow street and the wall gave way.

The stark and dimly lit Synagogue interior - a beautiful example of the simplicity of medieval architecture

Women were not allowed to sit with the men in the main Synagogue and had a separate wing of their own

The 1000 year old Jewish cemitary  called The "Heilger Sand" where over 3,000 people are burried. 

Our entourage at the cemetary looking at the oldest grave dating from 1100 AD. 

Frome left to right: Regina Johannes, Elke Scheiner, Tanya, Willi Johannes, Dr. Hanna Karaka, me, Albano (our great driver) and Traudel Mattes

 

Tanya and me at our "official luncheon" with the Lord-Mayor of Worms - Michael Kissel, a friend of seven years ago

 

The giant, Volker Gallé with the two diminutive Kagan "kids" - Gallé is the Art Coordinator for Worms

 

"the boys" Heinz Meisenzahl , Vladimir and Gerhard Holzer having a chat at the Hagen Statue which celebrates Siegfried tossing the Rheingold into the river. 

 

Tanya and me with the Lord-Mayor Kissel

St. Peter's Cathedral, the beautiful early Romanesque Dom restored after severe damage in the last war. I love the strong simplicity of the arches and the domed ceiling

Tanya and me at the Martin Luther Monument... (my sister has a baby photo of both of standing in the same location  80 years earlier!) This strong modern monument was built in 1868 by Ernest Rietschel, a celebrated sculptor of the time

The War Memorial, built in the 30's to honor the dead of the First World War. (We remembered it well from our childhood and were duly frightened.)

 

The next day, our triumphant return was celebrated with a small official luncheon hosted by the Lord-Mayor of Worms, Michael Kissel. (I had met and befriended him seven years earlier)… it was a reunion of old friends. Another guest at our small gathering was Volker Gallé, the official art coordinator for Worms – (he looks every inch the part). My sister’s friend, Hana Karaka, who grew up in the neighboring city of Mannheim, flew in from Geneva, to join us for the weekend. (Hana is a heart surgeon, who saved Tanya’s life two years earlier). Mayor Kissel offered her the position of Head Doctor at the Worms Hospital… (she gracefully declined.) Michael drove me through the town and its suburbs, showing me the progress his administration had achieved during his first seven-year tenure. (He was recently re-elected to another seven-years. The city is fortunately to have such a jovial and efficient administrator). In the car, we discussed my inner feelings about the hidden casualties of the war: While my American contemporaries can proudly produce dusty photo albums of themselves and friends, brimming with smiles and laughter, posing in elegant new uniforms, or draped on the wing of their victorious bombers, my German friends, who also served in the war, have to hide this memorabilia in fear that it might give the wrong “body-language” and appear to be in praise of the past. (I escaped military service… just lucky timing). Heinz, a year older than I. at age 17 was drafted into the SS… the most notorious service of the German Reich… No choice. He managed to survive by eluding Gestapo agents looking for deserters and escaped into the hands of the American troop. There are thousand of similar stories and only one on one friendship’s can wipe out these deep wounds.

 

Our visit to Worms was a revelation for my sister Tanya, who came with apprehensions and left with deep affection for all the wonderful people who made our short stay so memorable… Tanya and I have resolved to make this an annual “return of the natives”.

 

 

A road trip through Switzerland and Germany

Impressions on the Road to Worms

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, May 20, 2012

 

A 1,100-kilometer road trip is not your every day venue, especially when you are traveling with an entourage that included a ninety-three year old gentleman with dementia, two old dodders in their eighties (my sister, Tanya and I) a driver and caretaker… additionally…I still needed to convince my recalcitrant sister, that this was going to be an OK trip. Our destination was Worms am Rhine in Germany, where both of us were born.

I had spent many hours on Google plotting routs, layovers, points of interest and our overnight stays. This had to be a well-planned pilgrimage - it took weeks to get it accepted. On the day of our departure, I had to delay the morning exodus for a business meeting that lasted till noon… by then it was time for the obligatory sit-down lunch… We finally set off at 2 PM - for the first 300 kilometers of our trip.

 

Leaving Geneva on a sunny afternoon - Geneva's famed fountain spraying water into the sky - A pair of scootering tourists enjoying the lake with Mont Blanc in the background 

Driving through the Swiss midlands is a joy…these valleys are bordered by the magnificent Alps on the right side (with the pristine snow’s of Mont Blanc and the Berneser Oberland always on the distant horizon) and the Jura chain running parallel to the highway on the left The myriad tunnels that snake through the hillsides are marvels of engineering; the industrial landscape outside of Lausanne quickly gives way to pastoral countryside with exquisite examples of regional architecture, which changes mile after mile as we barreled toward Basel and the German border.

 

Imaginative examples of Swiss industrial architecture along the road to Basel

A fruit tree orchard elegantly covered in gauze to keep the birds out - A freshly plowed field with distant clouds and mountains in the background

Our first planned stop was Freiburg and a visit to the KAGAN CLUB. Freiburg is located in the foothills of the Black Forest. The club was founded and named after me when the owners bought my furniture to decorate the Club’s two floors on the 18^th and 19^th floor of the tallest building in Freiburg. In Freiburg, no building is allowed to be taller than the famous Münster - Cathedral…. Our visit turned out to be a huge disappointment because the club was a ghost of it’s former self. Kagan furniture had been replaced with commercial substitutes, the walls desperately needed a paint job… lunch and dinner were no longer served… The Club was turned into a Disco, where besotted dancers don’t see the filth. (I had always predicted that the club was named after me to avoid embarrassment, should it fail... no one knows who Kagan is!!!) My prediction of anonymity became all too true. However, pretty hostesses and the splendid views never change. Tanya and I enjoyed our ten-minute walk-thru.

 

The dilapidated sign at the entrance to the Kagan Club - Two pretty hostesses at the Club with me

My sister, Tanya and I standing in from of the magnificent view of the Black Forest and Freiburg's Münster (Cathedral)

To savor the best of Germany, and cut the driving distance, we planned to spend the night in Baden Baden. Baden Baden is one of Germany’s favorite watering holes, renown for its hot springs and pampering spas. We chose to stay in the Brenner Park Hotel and Spa, a classic relic of years gone by. (Well worth the price of admission when someone else is footing the bill).  Our stay was all too short, but we needed to stay the course and stick to our itinerary.

Elaborate sign at the entrance to Baden Baden

A street clock on the way to our hotel

 

The glamorous swimming pool at the Hotel Brenner Park - that's me in the middle of the pool!

According to Google, Worms is only an hour and a half away from Baden Baden … what was not factored into this calculation are the interminable German STAUs… predictable locations for traffic jams! (We encountered a serious jam that stretched 19 kilometers!) These delays are predictable, because of massive road and bridge construction… Unlike American highways, where there is the occasional exit for a quick escape, here there were none… It gave me ample time to admire the original calligraphy and the diverse home base of the trucks that were creeping along in the right hand lane. Add to this frustration a rather boring landscape of plowed fields and the distance became considerably longer. We arrived in Worms at dusk.

 

 

 

 This ominous sign means "Traffic Jam" in German... and we were in a lulu of a jam!

            

 

Colossal traffic jam on the Autobahn

Entertaining myself with the graphics on the stalled trucks

Worms, unless it is your destination, is a quick bi-pass on the Autobahn. Of course, for us it was the final destination. You can read all about Worms in my sister article: RETURNING HOME – A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY. Our stay in Worms was all of 36 hours, but we left with enough memories to make the time feel like a week. 

 

Driving into Worms through the old Rashe Tor - A passage in the restored city walls

Departing Worms in the late afternoon, we braced ourselves for another 300 Kilometer drive to Basel. However, by then it had become teatime! And what better place for a small detour than Heidelberg? (My sister Tanya had become a seasoned traveler and was game for all comings and goings.) Heidelberg is a beautiful University town located in the steep valley of the Odenwald along the shores of the Nekar River. (Back in the early thirties, my father had an Art Gallery there… I remembered it well. The city was not destroyed in the Allied bombings; therefore Heidelberg retained its old-world charm. We found a delightful coffee house for a leisurely afternoon Cappuccino.

 

This detour brought us to Basel considerably after dark, where we struggled for an additional hour trying to find the Hotel Les Trois Rois, which is located on the edge of the Rhine. We drove down one-way streets, dodging trams, all due to typical male-chauvinist stubbornness! (Our driver’s refusal to ask directions as he had been there once before, and was determined to find it on his own!) We arrived somewhat frustrated and too late for dinner. But breakfast made up for our disappointment as we sat watching an endless parade of barges steaming up river within an arms-length off our table.

 
A double-hung chandelier dropping through the five-story deep stairwell at the Hotel Les Trois Rois

A river barge chugging upstream on the Rhine as seen from the hotel dining room

  Basel was to be our culture stop: first a visited the Fondation Beyeler for a personal look at the Jeff Koons show (see my sister Article: AM I CRAZY OR JUST OUT OF TOUCH?) However, it being a Monday, the other cultural institutions were closed. However, the Vitra Museum in Weil on Rhine, was just across the German border and we found ourselves once more in Germany. Unfortunately the museum, which owns a dozen pieces of my furniture, (carefully stored in the basement) was closed for renovation. I found my longtime friend, Mathias Schwartz-Clauss, the museum’s curator, who welcomed us and led us to the Vitra’s newest addition, The Factory Museum and Retail Shop recently designed by the world renowned architectural team of Herzog & de Meuron. This is a showcase for Vitra’s expansive collection of modern furniture, (much of it manufactured under license from Herman Miller in the States.) The building functions beautifully from the inside… A tribute to the architects listening to their client’s needs. However, the exterior, at first glance, looked like a random stack of recycled industrial buildings painted in a drab black, which slashed across the bucolic countryside. Upon closer inspection, these radical criss-crossed shapes did create fascination silhouettes and unexpected openings to the green fields beyond. We spent most of the afternoon there… Tanya was saving Germany’s economy by buying everything in sight and I photographing the images used in this article.

 

This is Frank Ghery before Bilbao at the Vitra museum in Weil am Rhine

the new Vitra Museum shop and display area designed by the Basel architectural team of Herzog & de Meuron 

A parting shot 

the photo above is an outdoor bench at the New Vitra Museum by Herzog & de Meuron 

 
This is a photo of the outsdoor bench that I built in my Nantucket house some 14 years earlier!

No one was unhappy with our delayed return to Geneva… we had enjoyed a late lunch in the Vitra’s cafeteria and ultimately an even a later dinner back home in Geneva.

 

All of us have become seasoned travelers and are now ready for any new adventure thrown into our path.

 

 

 

Jeff Koons Exhibit in Basel - Switzerland

 

Am I crazy or just out of touch?

Copyright Vladimir Kagan May 17, 2012

 

I had recently been invited to the opening of the Jeff Koons’ exhibit at the venerable Fondation Beyeler in Basel, Switzerland. The Beyeler is one of the mainstays of the Avant-Garde Art movement in Basel: Art Basel is its by-product and Art-Basel Miami its younger sibling.

 

I have not followed the “Hip – Pop-Art - Avant-Garde” movements in art and am therefore a neophyte in this gendre. My closet encounter was through a client who collects and boasts friendship with Damien Hirst, whose art consists of dissected animals and humans preserved in formaldehyde… Enough to turn your stomach, unless you are a student of anatomy. (I also have a surprising number of friends who consider Hirst’s work to be a message in art…. I have tried, but failed to see it).

 

Jeff Koons is another “anatomist”, but not the pickled sort. He is prolific beyond belief. He probably is a consummate artist with unimpeachable skills. But what is most evident in his work is the art of making money… It is said that he is the most successful artist alive today.

 

I went to Basel to see the show. The museum’s entire spacious galleries are devoted to exposing these larger-than-life, children’s toys… One or two per room to gives the viewer ample time and space to absorb this incredible triumph in art. There are balloon wiggles (the type you buy from street vendors in the park). There are porcelaine dolls usually found as cheap prizes at the fun fair. He’s obviously gone to the Five and Dime, the local thrift shop and the roadside secondhand shops to rummage for toys, jewelry and Disney ceramic statuettes to glorify them as his idea of art.

 

This is one of several giant balloons each dominating a single gallery

I had to sneak this photo from around the corner as I was admonished by the guard, not to take photos!

I don't remember if these dolls came out of a Cracker Jack box or the fun fair?

Koons is an amazingly skilled. craftsman.. this Baroque mirror is a gem

This was my favorite piece in th exhibit - not because she was nude - but I loved the sense of humor

A startling piece of craftsmanship - alone, in another environment it would really hold its own

And when you are through paying homage to his blown-up toys, there is an entire gallery dedicated to the adoration of the modern vacuum cleaner.

 

The deification of the vacuum cleaner

Has Koons slipped off the edge? Hell no! He’s poking fun at the gullible art world, while he sits at home comfortably puffing his pipe for more dreams to fulfill.  

 

I ran into Koons’ work some 12 years ago, at the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. There he was commissioned to create a giant puppy out of flowers… when I say giant, I mean five stories tall! That was a very impressive achievement technically, keeping the flowers alive, watered, pruned and replaced as needed. This phase of his work was not neglected at the Beyeler, where he created an equally impressive Swiss Cow on the exquisite grounds of the museum.

 

My  first encounter with Jeff Koons was at the Guggenheim in Bilbao fifteen years ago

Jeff Koons repeated his engineering feat in the Beyeler Garden - this time - A Swiss Cow

 

The beautiful garden of the Beyeler Fondation Museum 

After Ernst Beyeler’s death the Fondation Beyeler is now run by the city of Basel and a group of esteemed curators. My Sister and Brother-in-law knew Ernst well and exclaimed, “Poor Ernst must be turning in his grave”

… I hope, for his eternal peace, that he is not.     

 

The Lure of The Swiss Alps

The Twenty-Four Hour Gstaad Cure

Copyright Vladimir Kagan May 7, 2012

 

If there were any place on this earth where I would rather be for 24 hours than Nantucket, it would be Gstaad... So here I am!

 

The Roessli Post Hotel where my family has stayed for eons.

Not the glitzy Gstaad of Gucci and Hermes shops... not the Palace Hotel, but the Bernese Oberland, that starts for me, immediately after leaving Bulle* and emerges into the foothills of Gruyère, (the fabled castle fortress perched on top of a hill, overlooking the vast valley below). Gruyère’s fame comes not from its historic role but from the cheese produced in the region and named in its honor. From here, the road winds up a gentle curving road that steepens as you drive deeper into the foothills of the Alps. You pass through village after village, without an inhabitant in sight… each dominated by its beautiful church and the ubiquitous Guesthouse Restaurant.

Before you reach the Alps, you drive along picturesque Lake Geneva - looking toward Montreux

 

So far, we have traversed French-Switzerland – Vaud, but a mere 10 kilometers beyond, we emerged into “Das Saanenland”, the picturesque little village of Saanen that is only 6 kilometers away from Gstaad. This is the beginning of the Bernese Oberland, where French is abruptly abandoned for Schweizerdeutch (Swiss-German)... a lilting throaty German, incomprehensible to most proper Germans. (I've learned to fake it)... but you have to be born here to speak it properly… I love its singsong lyrical sound that goes so well with the laid-back unchanging spirit of the Alps.

 

 

The Gruyère Castle high up on the hill - "my gateway" to the Bernese Oberland

 

Our first stop was Les Moulins, a tiny “pass-thru” hamlet that is home to my friend Frédérique Chapalay, a farmer in the summer and ski instructor in the winter. He is the salt of the earth… fit as a fiddle at age 50-something… a self taught linguist who speaks French, German, Italian, and perfect English. He tends his 26 cows unassisted and finds time every day to climb into the high Alps to ski the last snows of spring.

My friend and ski-instructor for the last twenty year, Frédérique Chapalay - tending his herd of prized cows

The road (at dusk) now winds gently upward past Château D’Oex, and Rougemont. (The Swiss are geniuses at building bypasses to preserve the original character of the these ancient villages)

 

Susan and Charles Jefford, who so gallantly allowed me to cajole them into taking this nostalgic trip with me. they had no idea what they were getting in to!

  
Gstaad's little church in the middle of town... empty streets at this time of year

The Jefford, showed me with great pride, my son Illya's painting of the same scene, which they has acquires years earlier!

Me... the only person for miles around

It is very off-season in Gstaad... the snow hasn't quite melted and the trees are just trying to blossom. Main Street is empty and shops are closed except for the coffee houses and Early Beck... the region's fabled "conditerei" (bakery - there is one in every village).

 

This glorious Alpine area is all about cows: Its worship of cows borders on the religious (think India). Festival are built around their departure for summer pastures and their triumphant return in the late fall... bedecked with flowers and huge ceremonial bells. There are special Feasts and dances to celebrate the "prettiest" cow in the region... (Being canny Swiss - it is always the richest farmer's cow that is selected as he must also sponsor the party replete with a local band, yodeling, abundant food and gallons of wine.)... To be invited to one of these festivals is the ultimate arrival.

 

Frédérique's newborn "babies"

Cow's abound everywhere... as bronze street sculptures or in our hotel as a scrawny cow... I couldn't believe that that was a Swiss cow... it wasn't. It was a commissioned work by an American sculptress: Sandy Graves... she obviously didn't understand what Swiss cows are all about!

Cows are central to the local economy (aside from tourism). It’s the double cream and mountain cheeses that have sustained the local farmers for generations. These robust farmers live in virtual isolation all summer; tending their cows in high pasturelands... rugged contented people that do not change from generation to generation. Their farms and pastures are handed down from father to son. And no matter how far some of these sons and daughters might stray from the farm, they collectively return for harvest time.... pitching in to cut the scented grasses that will dry into the life-sustaining hay. They harvest the fields with compact motorized equipment and when the slopes become too steep, laboriously by hand with scythes... This backbreaking work goes on from early morning till night when the last strands of grass are cut and left to dry. The dried hay will sustain the cows all winter long. And so the age-old cycle begins: the cows give milk, which is turned into Cheese on the mountains in the summer and farm co-ops in the winter. This is a 24/7 process - no holidays, vacation nor sickness or death will leave these cows unattended. The process is romantic (Erica had written an enchanting poem extolling this time-honored procedure… I have added it for all to enjoy) There is a poetic symmetry to this process; the cows eat the scented wild-flowered grass - digest it - turn it into milk - their excrement is carefully stored over the winter to allow it to ferment and in early spring, is spread on the fields to fertilize the scented grass that the cows will eat. An eternal cycle. These aromatic manured fields are part of the ritual that draws me to the mountains annually... my special perfume!

 

On our way home, we visited my friend, David Maude-Roxby - an artist, living with his wife Patsy, in this storybook 17th Century Chalet

A beautiful old door opening to the cellar of the Chalet - the ancient front-door lock 

A wheel barrel designed to cary hay standing in front of David's barn

As I have been in Switzerland for the past five weeks... twenty-four hours had to be found to make this pilgrimage - a tonic for body and soul.

 

 *(A small industrial city on a high plateau in Vaud, Switzerland)

 

 

 

AN ALPINE ODE

By Erica Wilson-Kagan - August 2008

 

Hiya, hiya say the crows

Swallows shoot like arrows close to the bright green grass.

The sound of cowbells hangs in the air

Like the misty mountain clouds

Dropping white veils amongst the dark green pines.

Far away in the valley runs the whistling Bimmeli

Brown and white like a toy train with seven coaches.

 

Is it raining?

Yes, you can tell by the dappling movement in the puddles

And the quiet dripping on the sheltering roof.

Nothing is slower than watching grass grow, they say

But here you can really see grass spring.

First meadows of yellow and white flowers

Like fallen sunlight

Are cut and spread to dry beneath the bright blue sky

Then gathered safely into the barn

Next comes the pungent perfume of the spread manure

And curtains of falling rain

Above your head the sky could be the sea

Almost instantly bright sun reveals

Blankets of furry green spread over the rolling hills.

An inch a day?

Two inches?

Who can tell.

Imperceptible like the movement of the hanging clouds

There for one moment - gone the next.

Unchanging then the cycle goes

Cows eat grass

Give milk

Nourish grass

Eat Hay

Give milk

Nourish grass.

The hours - the days - the seasons pass

With measured repetition

Switzerland - the land of clocks

For all the world seems timeless.