I’ve been plotting a Zürich to Lisbon road trip for the better part of six months. In its original form, it was going to be something of a delivery mission to transfer fragile objects from various lockers in my Swiss apartment to shelves and assorted surfaces in the Portuguese capital. It would be a three- to four-night journey with stops at various wineries and a night here and there with friends in and around Marseille. It was also going to be the first grand tour for the Toyota Land Cruiser and the plan was to turn it into a 10-day adventure.
A couple of months ago, however, it was decided that the diary wasn’t going to allow for such driving decadence and a new plan needed to be hatched. Do we skip the road trip altogether? Perhaps it’s better to let a gentle shipping company deal with the fragile objects? Or what about a one-way trip and basing one car in Lisbon for a stretch? After a bit more diary consultation and a conversation with the little Suzuki Jimny that’s been living a very comfortable life on Zürich’s Gold Coast, we landed on this past Saturday as the departure date for a three-day, two-night drive to Lisbon. Here’s a brief play-by-play peppered with a few observations:
Saturday 07.45
The plan was to be on the road at 06.30 but the most magical dinner the night before at Alex, across the lake, meant that the start wasn’t quite as sharp. Nevertheless, Zürich was in holiday mode so we were quickly on the highway. Destination: Geneva.
Mats played navigator and chief steward on the journey. As the Jimny is rather basic on tech, there was no need for a deejay. Radio would have to do and thanks to a bit of Chérie FM, France Inter and Los40, we did just fine.
France might be home to some of the world’s most admired retail brands and Spain to some of the world’s best chefs but you’d never know it based on the roadside hospitality offering. France and Spain have some serious work to do when it comes to polishing this part of their tourism infrastructure. There’s much to be learned from the Swiss, Austrians and Japanese in this territory. Toilet seats would also be a nice touch.
The Jimny’s speedometer shows the number 180 at the top end but the car is most comfortable at 110km/h or slower. At the last minute, we decided to cut the trip to one night and the most sensible (and perhaps most comfortable) stop was San Sebastián. We rebooked the Hotel Arbaso and, based on a Google estimate of 11 hours on the road, made plans for a lovely dinner around 21.00. In the end we dined very well but closer to 23.00; the total drive almost 14 hours.
Sunday 10.00
On Sunday morning we made a grocery, wine and coffee stop at Lukas Gourmet Shop in San Sebastián. If you’re not familiar, it’s worth a small detour. It’s just the right mix of the daily and more refined essentials that every neighbourhood needs. The extra boxes of wine helped steady the vehicle for a day on the road.
The Jimny is not the most aerodynamic vehicle in Suzuki’s line-up but it’s certainly cute to look at and under the right circumstances a treat to drive. Highways are another matter. Under windy conditions it’s essentially a cardboard box atop a skateboard and blows all over the place. Passing trucks and buses in 90km/h crosswinds near Burgos proved one of the trickier parts of the journey.
Who has Europe’s best highways and infrastructure? It must be the Basques. The region not only has exceptional roads and impressive tunnels, they’ve also done a decent job of keeping much of it graffiti-free, which is saying something in Europe these days.
Who has the worst highways? Salamanca. Shame on you. Absolutely dreadful.
After a 10-hour drive we reached Lisbon last Sunday at around 20.00. The Jimny is now adjusting to a slightly different pace from Zürich and enjoyed its first jaunt down to the beach. Soon we’ll do a spin around some neighbourhoods I’ve been wanting to scout. Beep-beep!
Travelling to Zürich or Lisbon? For everything that you need to know and everywhere that you need to go, consult our City Guides.
First, an apology. For all of those who travelled from near and far for our Merano summer party last Saturday, I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to put in an appearance. If you give me a moment, I’ll explain my absence. Also, if you’re a lover of cats or find them devious, self-centred and just plain wrong, you might want to look away now.
Our story starts early last week in Lisbon. Mom and I are visiting a friend at her apartment for drinks and a catch-up on some work and social matters. The main reception room is an eclectic mix of modernism and crafts, the space is warm and welcoming and the Portuguese bubbly is perfect for a Tuesday afternoon. A couple of our host’s colleagues will join us a bit later, so for the moment it’s just the three of us and three animals – a dog and two cats. They shall remain nameless. The dog is small and curious and well behaved. One of the cats is busy grooming its crotch and the other is on my lap and looking for attention. I’m having none of it. “He’s the one in charge,” announces our host. “He kind of keeps everyone in check.” There is hair all over my navy shorts and now the cat is digging its nails into the seersucker as it tries to get comfortable. This carries on for about 15 more seconds until he realises that he’s not going to get anywhere and that a glass of Portuguese effervescence might end up in his eyes. Off he goes.
Mom and host are talking about ceramic lamp bases and shades and there’s a question about whether we should stay inside for drinks or venture out. “It’s so lovely here,” I say, “why don’t we just stay in?” Our host agrees and refills the glasses. This is a cue for the cat to go and jump on mom’s lap and start his routine. “He likes to visit everyone,” says the host. “But sometimes he can be a little bit naughty and scratch or bite.”
My mom smiles and I can read the speech bubble above her head. “And you allow this little beast to take centre stage in social settings?” She reaches for her glass but then jolts backwards. “Did he bite you?” I ask. “Mmmm,” my mother replies, pressing her hand. “Are you bleeding?” My mom nods and the cat is scolded in Portuguese by our host (as if that’s going to change its behaviour) and then she’s off to get some alcohol and a bandage.
We carry on talking for a bit but we have a 05.55 flight to Zürich in the morning and I can tell that my mom is uncomfortable and wants to go. We say our goodbyes, jump in a cab and head home. On the way, I inspect mom’s hand. It’s a little bit swollen and she says that it’s throbbing. Back at the apartment, I make an ice pack and have mom settle down on the sofa. We’re up and at ‘em around 04.30 (yes, we live very close to the airport) and somewhere over France I notice that mom’s hand and wrist is becoming more swollen. We touch down in Zürich and I drop a note to Dr Stucki, our family GP.
Headline: Mom bitten by cat
Body copy: Dear Dr Stucki, I hope all is well and your summer is shaping up nicely. We just touched down from Lisbon. Mom was bitten by a friend’s cat yesterday. It’s become quite swollen. Thoughts?
Within about 15 minutes Dr Stucki has written back and suggests a visit as soon as possible. We drop our things at home and head to her practice in town. By now the hand is starting to look puffy. Dr Stucki takes one look, her eyes wide, and says that she’ll do a blood test, administer a tetanus shot and go hard on antibiotics. “Cat bites, the worst,” she says. “Let’s keep an eye on it and let me know if it changes or gets worse.”
The following morning, I’m up early for a flight to Berlin and take a peek at mom’s hand before heading for the train. It’s considerably worse. In fact, mom’s forearm looks like a mortadella. Photos are taken and sent to the doctor and by the time I land in Berlin mom has been taken to emergency and there’s considerable concern about how rapidly the arm has become infected. I finish my business in Berlin, have a long talk with the doctor and head to the airport. He says that if the antibiotics don’t kick in then they will need to open up the arm and clean it out. He says that he’s concerned about an infection to the tendons. By 21.00 I’m back in Zürich and going straight to the hospital. Mom is in good spirits and watching CNN. I return the following morning to find the bags packed and mom ready to go. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask. “The doctor is going to come by and tell me that it’s all fine. Then we can go to Merano,” she says. “Ummmmmm, we’ll see about that,” I say, looking at her hand and puffy forearm.
A couple of hours later, the doctors give mom a semi “all clear” but she’ll need to stay on the antibiotic drip for another evening and can leave the next day. I return Saturday morning and consider, ever so briefly, doing the five-hour drive to Merano but mom needs to rest, so I move into nurse mode and we end up having a cosy Saturday evening at home.
One week on and I’m happy to report that mom has recovered, though her right (painting) hand is still a little tender. But she’s back swimming in the lake and back in front of her canvases. The moral of this story is very clear. Cats are generally bad news, not to be trusted and will never be celebrated in the pages of Monocle – this I can promise.
Fancy a friend in Lisbon that doesn’t bite? Our charming City Guide is just the ticket.
When do you no longer count (even exist) as a paid-up member of civil society? Is it when you move beyond city limits and check out from the buzz of the metropolis? Are you a non-citizen if your lifestyle demands that you require a car for your daily needs? Or is it when you hit your late seventies, your left knee goes and you’re suddenly less nimble? I’ve been considering this core question over the past few months as Zürich pushes ahead with more car-free pedestrian zones in districts that blend residential and commercial buildings, young families and lone pensioners, new cafés and old retail establishments.
The idea of districts free from motorised four-wheel vehicles is hardly new but the notion that whole districts should see a ban on cars – particularly those that have emerged over the past century – requires a rethink. With the nearest parking a kilometre away, how do you get semi-mobile grandpa, who lives in the countryside, over to see the grandkids? And how are you supposed to get the ceramic-lamp bases to the shade-maker who relies on kerbside convenience? Zürich and many other cities are currently trying to railroad such concepts under the assumption that everyone is fit, 30 and working in the public sector rather than running a small business. Neighbourhoods need to be accessible to all, cars are quite useful and cargo bikes are not the answer for all forms of modern mobility.
In our July/August issue, dedicated to all topics related to quality of life (including our revised city rankings), Zürich still manages to win the overall prize for mobility (thanks to its right-sized airport, rail connections and overall investment in infrastructure). But it also runs the risk of becoming an urban oasis that’s restricted to two-wheelers and less accessible to those who might need to go very short distances on foot and then require four wheels for varied hops around town and further afield.
The city is currently being challenged on a few fronts by those who question the need for bike lanes that work well when the sun is bright and warm but are empty in chillier months. A city needs to be adaptable to the needs of citizens who are happy to pedal in the summertime but then require taxis or private vehicles when the winds are raging and the rain horizontal.
As you tuck into our summer double issue, we’re already at work on our September edition – one that is fully focused on mobility and making your way around the block, cross-country and all over the world.
To read more about the winning cities in our annual Quality of Life Survey, which appears in our bumper July/August issue, click here. Or better yet, subscribe so that you’re never out of the loop.
How do you spend your evenings when the city is baking, the air is still and it’s logistically impossible to head to the mountains or down to the coast? Do you find a shady terrace, crack open a chilled Super Bock and hope that the temperature dips below 25C before midnight? Do you crank up the AC, hydrate and stretch out on the sofa with the remote control in hand? Or do you opt for a more natural approach to cooling and open up your windows in the hope of a cool, fragrant cross breeze?
By the time I departed our Zürich office on Friday the temperature was 34C, the city was hopping with pedestrians and cyclists pouring into town, and even though public schools don’t break for another month it felt like the first official summer eve. Before leaving home I had lowered the awnings and closed most of the apartment windows, save for two left slightly ajar to allow for some airflow. On return the abode was remarkably cool (the building is a brutalist concrete affair from the late 1960s) and within a few minutes the stage had been set for a perfect Friday evening: a bottle of Oeil de Perdrix was opened and poured, curry cashews from Mercès in Barcelona in the bowl, NRJ Maroc was pumping out French beats from the radio and full prep for a barbecue was on the go in the kitchen. By the time dinner hit the table at 21.15, the mercury had dropped, a breeze had picked up and boats on the lake beyond were heading back to their docks. Over a chilled red from a lakeside vineyard we reviewed the past week (Ottawa, Toronto, Zürich, Abu Dhabi, Bahrain and Barcelona – all in six days) and the plan for the weeks ahead (Paris, Geneva, Copenhagen, Biarritz, Paris, London).
At 22.00, dishes were cleared, swim trunks pulled on and towels draped over shoulders. Our local bathing spot is a three-minute walk from the front door and given the warm evening I was expecting the lawn and stone walls to be filled with Zürchers knocking back rosé, chatting and canoodling. While I like the sense of community created by our little swimming set-up, I was happy to find the parkette quite empty – save for a couple who’d swum quite far out. Shirts off, we dove in, swam out and looked down the lake at Zürich twinkling in the distance. Perfection.
Back on the platform, the other pair of swimmers were drying off. We nodded and exchanged a few words of delight at the magic of such a simple pleasure. Our upcoming quality of life issue focuses on ten cities that each excel in a specific lane and though we might not have a winner in the swimmable category, it should be a focus of every city hall to ensure that citizens have access to a cool, clean body of water where people can take the edge off, clear heads and sleep well. If you don’t live in such a city, the Monocle apartment is available this July. Drop my colleague Izumi (id@monocle.com) a note if you’d like to book.
