Tourist in Switzerland

by JOSEPH WECHSBERG

IF you happen to arrive at the Swiss border in the morning, don’t miss the thrill of your first breakfast in a Swiss dining room. Good strong coffee, which is strictly a “parallel market” treat in Italy, Switzerland’s neighbor number one. Crisp, white rolls, all but a sad memory to the people in France, neighbor number two, where the bread now tastes like one part maize, one part cement, and one part about-time-we-had-another-government. Butter and eggs and jam and milk — most people in Austria and Germany, neighbors number three and four, will swallow hard and ask what those things taste like. All this served on china, silver, and gleaming white linen, in the grand manner of a country which has given birth not only to Pestalozzi and Gottfried Keller but also to César Ritz.

Almost immediately after crossing the border there is striking evidence of opulence and prosperity in the heart of an impoverished continent. The heaps of rubble and half-ruined houses are replaced, as on a magical revolving stage, by picturesque chalets which seem to be slightly overgrown music boxes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you could fold back their roofs and listen to the melody of “The Blue Danube” (musical compositions are one of the many things the Swiss have to import). The desolate fields of Austria, the neglected roads of Germany, have vanished and you see well-paved highwavs reminding you of American roads without a middle lane, and neatly cultivated fields and gardens, with every little space being used.

On the sunny slopes of the Valais Alps, grain is grown at an altitude of 6500 feet above sea level. Somewhere you’ve heard — correctly — that Switzerland is really a poor country because it can feed only three fifths of its people and depends on imports for the rest of its foodstuffs. Of its 15,950 square miles, only three quarters are productive, and one third of the arable land is used for stockbreeding. This makes for interesting photographs and beautiful cowbell sounds every morning and evening, when the cattle are being driven to and from the pastures, but also for the less publicized fact that during the war the rich Swiss had to ration bread to half a pound per day per person.

All morning long, pillows and sheets are stacked up in the windows of the houses for airing; no Swiss housewife would omit this ritual, which is said, not quite logically, to guarantee good sleep at night. Most Swiss probably sleep well anyway because they can take their rest with a clean conscience. Very few people get murdered, robbed, raped, or beaten up in Switzerland; and since not many citizens are prosperous, the Swiss don’t have to resort to the despicable tricks of inhabitants of poorer nations, who must steal, swindle, bribe, or murder their way through life. There is no illiteracy in Switzerland, and everybody reads a great deal. They have more newspapers in proportion to population than any other country, and publish over 3000 new books a year, which is not bad for 4¼ million people. (At the same rate of publishing, American publishers would have to bring out some 95,000 new volumes a year, which would be awful.)

Everybody is well or at least comfortably dressed, and even in the poorer districts you won’t meet people with worn-down heels. There are hardly any slums or beggars. The city of Zurich, population 351,444, has over 400 millionaires, although, with taxes what they are, it is almost as difficult to become a millionaire in Switzerland as in America.

Visitors from countries with lower living standards claim that the Swiss have become rich in two world wars by doing business with both sides. To this the Swiss answer that they have adapted the principle of permanent neutrality, “out of profound conviction,” renouncing any kind of powerpolitics. The profound convictions have paid off handsomely. In 1943, when the rest of the world was getting poorer by the second, the Swiss National Bank had gold reserves of over four billion Swiss francs — enough to cover the total circulation of bank notes.

It is said that the biggest building in a Swiss village is the school. This may be true; but the biggest building in a Swiss city is a bank. In Berne, the big banks stand near the palaces of the governing bodies, perhaps not quite accidentally. Swiss banks are veritable citadels of capitalism, arrogance, and stone, and in their subterranean vaults there are hidden billions of undeclared savings from practically every European country where the citizens distrust their own banks and dislike their income tax collectors.

Life is back to the complete peacetime basis in Switzerland, although some foodstuffs are still rationed. Food has always been good in Switzerland, in a robust way, with staggering portions of Rosti (fried potatoes), big hunks of meat in heavy gravy, and delicious bits of patisserie. You can get a good meal anywhere for six francs ($1.50). The world-famous Swiss chocolate is again to be had, in small quantities, but you can’t take out more than one pound and you can’t send any by mail.

Swiss hotels are still the best on earth, no matter whether you go to a first-rate palace like Zurich’s Baur au Lac or to any of the smaller second-class inns. The difference is one of luxury, not of quality. At every tourist office you can get the official hotel guide, which contains all classifications, prices for rooms and meals, and reductions for one-week and two-week vacations. The prices are always strictly adhered to.

For 15 francs ($3.75) you can get a good, clean room with hot and cold water, a view of the Jungfrau or Matterhorn from your balcony, shoes cleaned every morning, and three substantial meals. The same arrangement will cost about $20 by the week. A uniformed porter will pick you up at the railroad station — if it’s a long way, the hotel has an autobus there — and from this minute on, you will get the kind of old-fashioned service which is dying out fast in today’s two worlds — quiet, friendly, efficient service with a smile. There are places which cost twice and possibly three times as much, but they are perhaps less attractive; the kind of people who like to throw out money today are not always the most pleasant company.

Swiss railroads are an everlasting source of wonder to the tired, soiled traveler on Europe’s brokendown tracks. Ninety per cent of the 3645-mile road system is electrified. In a couple of years steam locomotives will be curiosa in Switzerland. No dirt, no cinders in your eye. About six hundred trains leave daily from Zurich Hauptbahnhof; everybody seems to commute all the time.

The Swiss Federal Railroads issue season tickets which are available for 8, 15, or 30 days, and valid for unlimited travel over 3000 miles of rail and lake steamer routes. All mountain lines and funiculars grant reductions of from 20 to 50 per cent to holders of season tickets.

There are three classes, but no one travels first class except railroad officials who don’t pay, and Americans who don’t know . In every Swiss railroad station there is a restaurant where you can get a meal. The First and Second Class room has white linen, the Third Class room has checkered tablecloths; the food comes from the same kitchen.

You can phone to every Swiss city by simply dialing a prefix. No inland call is more expensive than 70 rappen (18 cents). If you call up the operator and ask her to, she will wake you the next morning, This may be necessary, as the Swiss have an unfortunate habit of getting up early. All over Switzerland people wash and brush their teeth at seven. Bank presidents, professors, and directors are at their offices at eight. In Paris or London you will be fortunate to find such people by ten o’clock. Hard work and long hours have been one of the few secrets of how the Swiss have raised their country to so high a level of prosperity.