I’ve tried on many occasion to be quick, but it’s like my shoes have lead soles, or it’s like walking through water.
Perhaps I should just stop finding excuses and admit it’s old age and I am slowing down!
I’m guessing that in using the expressing the quick and the dead, I’ve got one foot in the grave.
But when you use the word quick it generally means moving fast or doing something at a rapid rate.
It could also refer to someone who picks up knowledge rapidly, that is to say, that boy is quick, maybe quick as a flash.
I’ve been cut to the quick. An interesting expression which basically means you’ve been hurt very badly.
It also makes reference to the more sensitive side to us, hence the above expression.
It has a more literal meaning, referring to the quick, under your fingernails, and you know how much that hurts when you cut the nail too short, or remove the nail from the quick.
And like most of us, I’ve been caught more than once in metaphorical quicksand.
It doesn’t pay to go near or test out what real quicksand is, but if you have to, make sure you tie yourself to an anchored rope first.
What starts as a search for a missing husband soon develops into an unbelievable story of treachery, lies, and incredible riches.
…
It was meant to remain buried long enough for the dust to settle on what was once an unpalatable truth, when enough time had passed, and those who had been willing to wait could reap the rewards.
The problem was, no one knew where that treasure was hidden or the location of the logbook that held the secret.
At stake, billions of dollars’ worth of stolen Nazi loot brought to the United States in an anonymous tramp steamer and hidden in a specially constructed vault under a specifically owned plot of land on the once docklands of New York.
It may have remained hidden and unknown to only a few, if it had not been for a mere obscure detail being overheard …
… by our intrepid, newly minted private detective, Harry Walthenson …
… and it would have remained buried.
Now, through a series of unrelated events, or are they, that well-kept secret is out there, and Harry will not stop until the whole truth is uncovered.
In all the investigation of Melbourne of 1915, the more I realised that if we never go looking, we will never find out what history is, what was good, what was bad, what were the prevailing attitudes of the time.
IT gives credence to a few odd sayings I’ve heard over time, ones that are viewed with a great deal of distaste these days, but fifty, seventy, eighty years ago, they were part of what we grew up with.
The thing is, women had it very tough. That saying you hear a lot, even these days, is ‘it’s a man’s world’, and to a certain degree it is. Back when I was looking, women could only work until they were married, when it was expected they would stay home, and, dare I say it, attend to the man’s needs.
I have a schoolbook of my mother’s, which she used in 1942, and the back pages are filled with notes on how she was supposed to attend to her husband’s needs.
I showed it to my granddaughters, and they were totally gobsmacked.
This is the thing about the past, and it can be a problem for writers who, if they do not know about the past, can make some fatal flaws in their writing, assuming today’s standards applied back then.
Also, back then, society was very judgmental about a woman’s virtue, and there was very little she could do without society frowning on her or turning her into a pariah. This was much the same until the sixties, when a lot of that went out the window.
Back in 1915, wow, straight laces and very well behaved.
However, I suspect, what went on behind closed doors was a different story.
It is hard sometimes to keep the lid on what might be called justification of your position in a company where there are many naysayers and little support from those who are supposed to be working together towards a single conclusion.
Not work against you, or have their own agenda, not only to further their career on the back of your mistakes but take the credit for all your hard work.
Every company has them.
I’ve worked in a few where this has happened, but the deciding factor of whether they’re successful or not is when they have to stand on their own two feet when the source of their reputed good work suddenly is unavailable, and the shit hits the proverbial fan.
What is it called? Art imitates life.
Benton is the proverbial leader who takes credit, but when it comes to the crunch, can’t pull the rabbit out of the hat.
I guess in writing this little piece, I was subconsciously getting back at someone from a real, but now distant, past.
Perhaps there might be a little more about one of the places I worked cropping up from time to time.
It’s not so much writing about what you know, but writing about what happened, and what you might have wanted to happen. Invariably it never did, because these credit takers are a cunning lot, and sometimes lay the foundations for getting out from under when there is a disaster.
Unfortunately, I’ve been there too.
It’s called cutting your nose off to spite your face.
Be that as it may, I let this little vent run and see where it goes.
…
It was my responsibility since I’d recommended it and then won the support of management over his objections, and following that it had become a point of continual contention, a petty war neither of us was going to win.
I tried to keep the joy out of my voice. He’d also vetoed my recommendation for a full-time network engineer as my alternative, making my job become single-point sensitive. There was no one to replace me if anything went wrong.
“Sounds like you’re having fun.” I had to work hard to keep the amusement out of my tone.
“Fun nothing.” His tone was reaching that exasperation point. “There is no one else.”
“Why did you approve my holiday if I can’t have one?” I’d stretch his patience just a little more.
“You promised me the network was stable.”
“It is, and has been for the last six months. I’ve said so in my last six-monthly reports. You have been reading them, haven’t you?”
Silence. It said all I needed to know.
I had a choice sentence to deliver, but an ignominious thought popped into my head. He could probably use this against me, and would if I gave him the opportunity. Perhaps I should shelve my differences with him for this morning.
Aside from that, there was a shooting, and we didn’t get one of those every day. Not that it would probably amount to very much. During the previous week, the office grapevine had been working overtime on the rumour Richardson was having a relationship with one of the ladies in the Accounts department. It was just the sort of scandal the data entry staff thrived on.
A shooting and a network failure. I didn’t know which was worse. Perhaps if it was Benton they’d shot, there might be some justice…
I decided not to argue with him. “Give me an hour.”
“Half. Aitchison wants to see you.”
Werner Aitchison was head of Internal Security and a man who took his job seriously. Enough, that is, to annoy my staff, and me. He was ex-military intelligence, so ‘they’ said, but he appeared to me like a man out of his depth in this new age of communications. Computers had proliferated in our company over the last few years, and the technology to go with them spiralling out of control.
We dealt in billions via financial transactions processed on computers, computers which, we were told often enough, were insecure, and easily taken control of outside their environment. Aitchison was paranoid, and rightly so, but he had a strange way of going about his business. He and I had butted heads on many occasions, and we may have had our disagreements, but we were good friends and colleagues outside work.
Just in case Benton was accusing me, I said, as sincerely as I could, “I didn’t do it.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. He has requested a meeting with you at 10 am. You will be there.”
“I said I would come in to look at the problem. I didn’t say I was staying.”
“Let me know when you get in.” That was it. No ifs. No buts. Just a simple, ‘Let me know…’
I seriously considered ignoring him, but somewhere within me, there was that odd sense of loyalty. Not to Benton, not to the Company, but to someone else, the man who had given me the job in the first place, who had given me every opportunity.
We managed to arrive early at the airport. Rather than wait three hours for our flight, we decided to try and get on an earlier departure. This will depend on our ticket type and whether there are seats available, preferably together.
We line up in the service queue, which by its very description means you have a long wait as service is mostly between difficult to impossible, depending on the request. We wait for twenty minutes. There’s a long queue behind us. Our request is taken care of quickly and efficiently making it almost seamless, certainly painless. I’m sure our request was one of the very few easy ones the staff will get.
Today, it seems it is our lucky day. The transfer to an earlier flight is free, and there are two seats available together. All we have to do is alert the pickup driver at our destination that we are going to be an hour earlier. Done.
Checking in bags is usually the bane of the traveller’s existence. No matter which airport in whatever country you are departing from, the only difference is the length of the queue; from incredibly long with a half-hour wait to the head of the line to up to an hour. Our queue is 15 to 20 minutes.
One assumes this is why intending passengers are asked to go to the airport two hours ahead of their flight. There are times of the day when the queues are horrendous, and that not only applies to Heathrow.
And if you are late, just panic.
And if your bags are overweight, be prepared to have your credit card hammered. Especially if you’re flying Air France from Venice to Paris.
Now it’s time to relax. There is an hour before we have to be at the gate, so just enough time to get coffee and a doughnut.
And be horrified at what shops charge for simple items like sandwiches. I think $10 is very expensive. But if you’re hungry and forgot to eat before getting to the airport, then be prepared to pay more than you usually would for the same fare.
It’s also time to observe our fellow passengers, and there is always the one who has a last-minute dash for a plane that is just about to leave, passengers with panic-stricken looks. We all know what happens if you miss the flight even as you’re downing that last cocktail in the airline lounge while thinking, yes, they’ll hold the flight for me!
Apparently not, these days, because airlines want to keep their ‘on time’ record.
Even so, there are still three more calls for the missing passengers and then nothing. If they missed the plane, then their problems are just beginning. It’s the same feeling you have when your name is called out before the flight starts loading. Only once have we been called up and given an upgrade, and once in the US, to be told we could take another flight because our flight was overbooked. Business class was greatly appreciated and was worth the extra hour we had to wait.
The next bottleneck is the scanners, and sometimes the queue here is very long and moving slowly because the scanners are set to pick up belts and shoes, so people are scattered everywhere getting redressed and putting shoes on. Today, being a weekday, the queue is not so bad.
Loading is painless and reasonably organised except when the passengers in high-numbered rows try to board by the front door instead of the rear door and clash midway in the plane. After they untangle themselves and get to their seats, we’re ready to go.
This flight still has a manual safety demonstration, which most people ignore, but it is slightly better than the video demonstration. Let’s hope we don’t go down over the water. I’ve charted my path to the emergency exit, and l have quite a few people before me. I guess there’s more than one way to be last off the plane.
Sometimes you get to pick who you get to sit next to, especially if you are travelling with your partner, which this time I am, but in a three-seat arrangement, you have no control over who takes that third seat. We are lucky this time because it will not become a tight squeeze, but unfortunately, our fellow traveller has a cold and in a confined space for several hours, it could turn out to be a problem.
But, in the end, the flight is smooth, and the snacks are edible. Unfortunately, there is no liquor service like the full-service rival, but that might be a good thing. No air rage on this flight.
Time flies, pardon the pun, and we have arrived. Even though it took forever for the baggage to be delivered, we still got home early.
An outline of the premise of the story, in what I would call a pitch to an editor…
…
The Powder Keg Conference: When Irony Meets Incitement in the Republic of Azmar
The world of international politics often serves up a certain dish of absurdity, but occasionally, the ingredients align for a truly catastrophic meal. We are witnessing such a geopolitical culinary disaster right now, brewing in the fictional Republic of Azmar.
Azmar is, by all measures, a textbook example of modern authoritarianism: a military dictatorship, financially and politically shielded by a major superpower, and helmed by President General Kroll, a man whose personal wealth seems to increase inversely to his country’s freedoms. The regime’s human rights abuses—disappearances, rigged judiciary, suppression of dissent—are not simply allegations; they are an open, festering secret among global watchdog organisations.
And yet, this week, Azmar is throwing a party.
The Irony Convention
In a move that strains the very definition of chutzpah, the Kroll regime is hosting the Global Summit for Progressive Human Rights Advancement.
The contrast is dizzying. While political prisoners languish in overcrowded, secret facilities, the capital city has been scrubbed clean. Banners proclaiming “Justice Through Dialogue” hang from lampposts. The state-run media is ecstatic, broadcasting endless interviews about Azmar’s commitment to “international transparency.”
The goal, of course, is not dialogue. It is legitimisation. The conference is a Potemkin Village, a meticulously constructed facade designed to convince foreign investors and, more importantly, the regime’s international patrons that Azmar is a stable, reforming nation.
And perhaps the most volatile element of this stagecraft? The roster of attendees.
The Ethical Tightrope Walk of the Keynote Speaker
The event has attracted truly renowned figures: Nobel Laureates, celebrated international lawyers, and veteran human rights defenders. These are people whose careers have been defined by fighting the very abuses Azmar exemplifies.
Why are they here? For some, it is the genuine belief that dialogue must occur, even with the devil. For others, it’s the hefty speaking fees and the promise of a global stage. Whatever the motivation, their presence offers the Kroll regime exactly what it craves: a veneer of institutional approval.
When a celebrated author stands at the podium, criticising abstract concepts of oppression while simultaneously shaking hands with the architect of that oppression, the lines between principle and pragmatism blur dangerously. Their words, intended as a critique, are instead absorbed into the regime’s propaganda machine: “See? Even the world’s greatest thinkers endorse Azmar’s path forward.”
It is a tense, ethically compromised theatre. But the real drama is about to erupt just outside the conference hall.
The Return of the Ghost
For years, the domestic unrest in Azmar has been a low, continuous rumble—a simmering resentment against Kroll’s corruption and brutality. The memory of the previous government, the democratically elected administration deposed in the violent coup fifteen years ago, lingered like a ghost, kept alive only by hushed whispers.
That ghost has just materialised.
Simultaneously with the arrival of the international luminaries, news has swept through the Azmari underground that Elias Mendieta, the long-missing son of the deposed and disappeared president, has returned home.
Elias Mendieta represents everything President Kroll is not: legitimacy, democratic mandate, and the promise of a free Azmar. His return is not just political news; it is a profound symbolic act. It transforms simmering discontent into active incitement.
The Collision Course
The timing is either impossibly unlucky for President Kroll or perfectly calculated by Mendieta’s supporters.
Think about the dynamics now at play:
Maximum Global Focus: The world’s major media outlets and human rights organisations are all focused on Azmar due to the conference.
Maximum Internal Tension: The regime has poured all its resources into maintaining a facade of tranquillity, meaning security forces are stretched and focused on keeping the peace in the capital’s diplomatic quarters.
Maximum Ideological Threat: Elias Mendieta, the embodiment of popular resistance and democratic history, is now mobilising supporters in the streets.
This is not a political confrontation that will play out in press releases. This is a dramatic, high-stakes collision.
If Mendieta attempts to make a dramatic public appearance, the regime faces an impossible choice:
Option A: Allow him to speak. This instantly delegitimises the conference and risks igniting mass protests that could turn revolutionary.
Option B: Arrest or silence him violently. Doing so while Nobel Laureates are debating “the future of free expression” literally blocks away would shatter the carefully constructed facade and invite global condemnation, potentially forcing the major power propping up Kroll to finally step back.
The Republic of Azmar has prepared a gilded stage for a dialogue on human rights, but what is truly about to commence is a revolution.
What could possibly go wrong? Everything. And we are all watching the fuse burn down.
…
The names and the places are fill-in’s but everything else is on the rollercoaster with no brakes!
Beyond the Gaudi Glow: 5 Barcelona Gems Off the Beaten Path
Barcelona. The name conjures images of soaring Sagrada Familia, vibrant Las Ramblas, and the sun-drenched beaches of Barceloneta. And while these iconic sights are undeniably spectacular, there’s a whole other layer to this Catalan capital waiting to be discovered by those willing to venture a little further. If you’re tired of jostling for elbow room and crave a taste of authentic Barcelona, this list of five things to do on the road less travelled is for you.
1. Get Lost (and Found) in Gràcia’s Bohemian Labyrinth
Step away from the Gothic Quarter’s throngs and find yourself in the charming neighbourhood of Gràcia. Once a separate town, Gràcia retains its distinct village feel with a network of narrow, winding streets, hidden plazas, and a wonderfully bohemian atmosphere. Spend an afternoon simply wandering. You’ll stumble upon independent boutiques, artisan workshops, and inviting cafes where locals gather. Don’t miss Plaça del Sol or Plaça de la Vila de Gràcia – perfect spots to sip a coffee and people-watch. In the evening, Gràcia truly comes alive with its array of tapas bars and intimate restaurants, offering a more local and affordable dining experience.
2. Ascend to the Untamed Beauty of Parc del Laberint d’Horta
While Park Güell gets all the glory for its whimsical mosaics, Barcelona’s oldest garden, Parc del Laberint d’Horta, offers a more serene and romantic escape. This neoclassical gem boasts a breathtaking cypress maze that’s a delight to navigate. Beyond the labyrinth, discover neoclassical sculptures, hidden grottoes, peaceful ponds, and stunning manicured gardens. It’s a tranquil oasis far removed from the city’s hustle, perfect for a leisurely stroll, a romantic picnic, or simply a moment of quiet contemplation. Pack a book and let the gentle murmur of fountains wash over you.
3. Uncover History and Art at the Sant Pau Recinte Modernista
Often overshadowed by Gaudí’s more famous works, the Sant Pau Recinte Modernista is a UNESCO World Heritage site that deserves its own spotlight. This former hospital complex, designed in the early 20th century by architect Lluís Domènech i Montaner, is a masterpiece of Catalan Modernisme. Wander through its beautifully preserved pavilions, adorned with intricate tilework, stained glass, and stunning sculptures. The sheer scale and artistic detail are astounding, offering a fascinating glimpse into the era’s architectural innovation and a poignant reminder of its philanthropic past. It’s a place that inspires awe and contemplation in equal measure.
4. Immerse Yourself in Local Flavours at Mercat de Sant Antoni
While La Boqueria is a vibrant sensory overload, the Mercat de Sant Antoni offers a more authentic and less tourist-centric market experience. Recently renovated, this grand market hall is a haven for local produce, fresh seafood, and regional delicacies. Come here for breakfast, sample some empanadas, pick up ingredients for a picnic, or simply soak in the lively atmosphere as locals go about their daily shopping. On Sundays, the surrounding streets transform into a bustling book and antique market, adding another layer of discovery to your visit.
5. Hike to the Iconic Bunkers del Carmel for Panoramic Vistas
For the most breathtaking, unobstructed views of Barcelona, skip the crowded viewpoints and head to the Bunkers del Carmel. These anti-aircraft fortifications from the Spanish Civil War offer a dramatic historical backdrop to arguably the best panoramic vistas of the city. While the climb can be a bit of a trek (or a short bus ride up), the reward is immense. Watch the sunset paint the sky in fiery hues, with the entire cityscape spread out before you like a miniature wonderland. It’s a favourite spot for locals to gather with friends, enjoy a picnic, and simply admire their beloved city from above.
Barcelona is a city that rewards curiosity. By venturing beyond the well-trodden paths, you’ll uncover its hidden heart, meet its friendly locals, and create memories that are truly your own. So, next time you find yourself in this Catalan gem, dare to stray from the guidebooks and embrace the magic of the road less travelled. You won’t be disappointed.
I was reading an article about the bible the other day, and what I gathered to be the writer’s intent was that the end result was an accumulation of many times retold and translated stories.
It sort of relates to another story I read years ago and reenacted with a few friends to check its veracity. What happens is the first person is given the correct story, then having memorised it, relates it to the second and then so on along a chain of ten people.
The end story related by the tenth person, when compared to the original, had only parts of the original story and for some reason new elements that somehow were misinterpretations of original story elements.
This perhaps could be put down to the individual’s upbringing and background, which always gets used in the interpretation of what they are told. We all use different methods to remember things, and this will always impact how we interpret and relate information.
It’s also the same when three different eyewitnesses to an accident will rarely agree on the details. Certain elements will be the same, but others will not.
When families recall events involving all of them, each will remember seminal events differently, and usually, from their perspective, it will revolve around where they perceive they fit in the family hierarchy. A stronger brother or sister will always see it differently from a weaker one.
My childhood memories are basically different to my brothers, and I suspect those events that he fails to recall are deliberately cast away because either they didn’t affect him, or they were so horrible, that he deliberately cast them out.
We all tend to do that. Some memories he has of the so-called old days I have no recollection of.
Memories are a choice. We choose to remember the good ones and cast out the bad. Was that the case when it came to putting the biblical story down on paper (or stone as the case may be).
However we look at it, remember it, or relate it, the old days, the days of yesteryear, will always be different. For me, the 60’s and 70’s were horrible, for everyone else, well that’s another story.
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
Uncover Bern’s Hidden Gems: 5 Offbeat Attractions for the Curious Traveller
Bern, the charming capital of Switzerland, often finds itself overshadowed by its more famous counterparts in Zurich and Geneva. However, this picturesque city has plenty to offer for the discerning traveller willing to venture off the beaten path. In this post, we’ll explore five unique attractions in Bern that cater to those seeking a more immersive and authentic experience.
The Federations Garden (Bundesgarten)
Tucked away in the heart of the city, the Federations Garden is a serene oasis that few tourists know about. This beautifully landscaped park is home to over 100 flower beds, charming walking paths, and several monuments dedicated to Swiss history and politics. It’s the perfect spot to relax and enjoy the tranquillity amidst bustling Bern.
Einstein Museum
While Albert Einstein’s connection to Bern is well-documented, the dedicated museum to his life and work is often overlooked by visitors. The Einstein Museum offers an engaging and educational experience, featuring interactive exhibits, original documents, and even a reconstructed version of the patent office where Einstein worked. It’s an excellent choice for science enthusiasts and those fascinated by the life of the iconic physicist.
Gurten Hill (Gurten)
For a panoramic view of Bern and its surroundings, head to Gurten Hill, a popular local spot. This hill offers several hiking trails, a playground for kids, and a beer garden with delicious Swiss cuisine. On summer evenings, the Gurten Festival takes place, featuring live music performances and stunning sunsets over the city. Don’t miss the chance to capture breathtaking photos of Bern from this unique vantage point.
Bern Minster’s Roof Tour (Dachrundgang)
Most tourists content themselves with admiring Bern Minster’s Gothic facade from the ground. However, for a truly memorable experience, take the guided roof tour, which provides unparalleled views of the city and its surroundings. The tour leads you through the steeple’s narrow catwalks, giving you a thrilling sense of being on top of the world. Book your spot in advance, as the tour’s limited capacity ensures an exclusive experience.
Tanner Row (Tuchlauben)
Step back in time and wander along Tanner Row, a charming cobblestone street lined with half-timbered houses dating back to the 12th century. This picturesque alley, once an important textile industry hub, now hosts a variety of boutique shops, cozy cafes, and traditional Swiss restaurants. The lively atmosphere and historic charm make Tanner Row an ideal spot for a leisurely afternoon stroll or a romantic dinner date.
In conclusion, Bern offers a wealth of hidden attractions and experiences for those willing to explore beyond the city’s main tourist trails. From serene gardens to thrilling rooftop tours, and from historic streets to science museums, there’s something for every interest and curiosity in this enchanting Swiss city. So why not take the road less travelled and uncover Bern’s unique charm for yourself?
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 