By Girija Madhavan
Tourists collect small souvenirs of their visit to enjoyable holiday spots. For me, our three-year sojourn in Switzerland is a treasured memory. It influenced my outlook and understanding of other cultures. In 1961, my husband was posted to the Indian Embassy in Bern, Switzerland. With our infant son we started from Mysore by train to Madras. We could run up to the steam engine at halts where the driver would give us sterile water from the boiler to wash feeding bottles. At Bombay, we boarded the Italian liner, ‘SS Victoria’. We touched Aden, sailed through the Suez Canal, halted at Naples and berthed at Genoa, Italy. A train through the Simplon Tunnel brought us to Bern. I recall my first sight of the blue-green river Aare, foaming white at the weir, circling the town of Bern. The old city had cobbled streets and a medieval tower. An astronomical clock, a musical mechanism and a great bell were added later. It is called the “Zytglogge” or “Time Bell.” The arcades had window boxes of flowers; red geraniums, purple petunias and blue gentians. In summer, Markt Platz was filled with stalls of vegetables and fruits; plums, greengages, peaches and aromatic apricots. Our apartment was on Muristrasse, a road leading to the Lake Thun, while a fork led to Lake Lucerne. The signpost read “Thun Lucerne.” An Indian visitor boasted, “I already understand some German; I know that Thun Lucerne means Turn Left”! Our neighbour, Frau Trudi Z’graggen became a life-long friend. She was from Basel. Her husband Alfred had the Swiss virtues of discipline and sense of duty.
