I unpacked my bags in a small, old apartment in the old town in Zurich and I remember wondering if I had made a mistake: I had just returned from an engaging conference atop a Swiss mountain and I was wondering if it was a good idea to have extended my stay in Zurich. I was a bit tired to think and the tightly packed space in the apartment was not helping. I stepped out to walk, bumped into a friend from the conference completely by chance, had a glass of beer, had a meal with a few more colleagues who had attended the conference and were returning home, and then returned to my apartment refreshed but not entirely convinced of my decision to stay.
I woke up the next morning wondering if I should just meander to John Baker, a local bakery, not bothering about which tram to take, where to take it from and where to get down. My hostess had said that one could walk to many places in Zurich. The location by itself was strikingly simple (compared to many others in Zurich in terms of view) but I felt an immediate connection: it was a corner store in a quadrangle of shops that stood out as the only store open early in the morning with soft orange light pouring over the golden brown shapes and textures of so many breads and sweet treats neatly piled in front of baker’s work tables; people were working in various stages of baking and serving: dough was being kneaded and molded, trays were being pulled out of the oven, cakes were cooling in their tins while others were being cut to display, and simultaneously the store staff were serving a continuous stream of people; the outside area had a few wooden chairs and tables surrounded by a few delivery boxes on wheels that could be attached to bicycles; and the service was professional and sometimes came with a smile to an English speaking me in an otherwise Swiss German speaking environment. I sat down comfortably with my breakfast treats and slowly started to type on my laptop as I caught sight of a delivery man who winked at me with a smile as he whizzed past. I felt like I wanted to stay longer, at the bakery and in Zurich. I was now convinced that a few more days would be just fine.
What makes for a happy place in a foreign location when emotions are tired and the mind wants to go back home? I don’t think it is just amazing views and nice people because there was plenty of that in Zurich outside of John Baker, the bakery.
I came back the next day, the bakery was closed, and so I came back the following day, and there were more smiles; one person said, “you really like this place…”; and the next day I returned, a person busy at the work table momentarily stopped what she was doing to make eye contact and we wished each other good morning. Zurich has a lot of attractive bakeries, I walked passed a few, I even gazed from outside and thought of probably visiting in the afternoon but I didn’t feel a strong enough urge to start my day there. John Baker, it was for me till my very last day in Zurich. I liked the sense of evolving friendliness, the taste of the bakery products and the feeling of comfort to write in a corner amidst the waves of people walking across from the nearby train station to go to work, many stopping to grab breakfast to go in a brown paper bag, and my own see-saw of thoughts of whether to stay longer or to plan for the day ahead.
I want to say that my childhood experience of visiting bakeries in Madras including the image of a tricycle with a box filled with bakery goodies cycling around the neighborhood, and my own attempts to find a bakery in most places I’ve lived and visited in the US has reinforced and now influences me when I search for a comfortable spot in a new place.
Earlier at the education conference in Burgenstock, I was seated at a dinner table with people from different countries including China when I said that my preference for Chinese food started with my childhood introduction to Chinese food in India; someone immediately said, “...but that is not Chinese food”, I agreed and replied to their agreement that it was nevertheless a starting point that led me to try Chinese food later in life. I met a gentleman at a museum in Zurich who had lived in India who wondered if Indians might feel comfortable sharing fondue with others given the caste system in India - we agreed that while that may be true for some it may not be for others (it wasn’t for me) presumably because of our own childhood exposures to different eating styles.
Is it important to expose children, consciously as part of an educational curriculum or casually outside of curriculum, to food from other cultures? Does it matter that they may be exposed to the foreign-version of a culture’s cuisine (Indian version of Western baked goods in India, Americanized-Indian food in the US or Indianized Chinese food in India as examples) that will be different from the native version (pastries in the West, Indian food in India and Chinese food in China)?
What makes for a happy place in a foreign location when emotions are tired and the mind wants to go back home?