The Raclette Rant
Cheese. Chocolate. Cute Chalets. Living in Switzerland should be easy. ...
Construction. Cranes. This calls for a party.
There's no doubt about it. The Swiss love construction projects. They are written about in newspapers. Cranes are decorated at Christmastime. And construction schedules are posted on billboards, which the Swiss people read as if they were god's gift to entertainment.
Maybe the Swiss just have so much money they don't know what to do with it other than renovate what doesn't appear to need renovating. They have so much money to burn that they dig up the square in front of my apartment each morning and then repave it the evening, only to redig it the next morning, repeat, repeat. And so goes a Swiss construction project.
Not a day has gone by in the last few years, that I haven't passed a crowd of people examining the construction schedule for the renovation of the clock tower near my house. For over a year, the citizens of Baden have been discussing the project with excitement and pride while I've been staring at the scaffolding with scorn. But if I ever have any questions about it, my neighbor has the answers.
“They're taking only one-fourth of the scaffolding down before the construction festival because they still need to paint the left side of the east clock face,” she’d inform me if I dared ask about the fate of the view from my living room.
The festival to celebrate the end of the endless construction project that still not 100% finished is on Saturday. According to the newspaper, the festival is to thank the residents of the area for putting up with 400 days of 6 am jackhammering. But this is where I think their logic is wrong.
If you want to thank me for putting up with a year and a half of banging and clanging, another 24 hours of noise is really not the way to go. The clock tower already dings every 15 minutes, 24 hours a day. But according to the festival schedule, live music will last well into the night this weekend and if the last fest is any indication, the rock and pop stage will be right below my balcony featuring the worst music known to man—Swiss-German rapping.
In any case, I'm not going to be here to find out. I'm going to France. So I can sleep.