This is exactly how I remember my childhood before Christmas. Including the organ music, played in church interspersed by the priest preaching in high-german the retelling of the story of Maria and Josef. I could swear I heard the exact same mass as we hear here in the beginning. I remember those then bedazzling lighted stars and symbolic Christmas tree light displays. I remember the magical, festive, red Märli-Tram that took us kids for a ride among pretty angels in white frocks we can only get a glimpse off here.
I remember crowded Jelmoli, the huge department store with the running stairs that brought us up to the second and third floor, to a humongous selection of toys, eventually Barbies too. I remember those nets that conveniently carried our purchases before the pretty plastic kind replaced them. I remember the crowds, more so even inside the Trams than the department stores. Scarry at times for a small kid squeezed among adults.
I remember the Salvation Army singers collecting coins on Bahnhof Strasse. Never liked them, not then or now. What is missing is the guy selling roasted Maroni (chestnuts) right nearby. A small bag full in one's hand spread delicious warmth on a cold winter day.
I remember crowded Jelmoli, the huge department store with the running stairs that brought us up to the second and third floor, to a humongous selection of toys, eventually Barbies too. I remember those nets that conveniently carried our purchases before the pretty plastic kind replaced them. I remember the crowds, more so even inside the Trams than the department stores. Scarry at times for a small kid squeezed among adults.
I remember the Salvation Army singers collecting coins on Bahnhof Strasse. Never liked them, not then or now. What is missing is the guy selling roasted Maroni (chestnuts) right nearby. A small bag full in one's hand spread delicious warmth on a cold winter day.
There are people, lots of them in heavy coats, with women wearing woolen shawls and hats. People offering their opinions only when asked and put on the spot. One pretty woman confesses that she is not in the mood at all for Christmas as she is going through a very difficult time, while the other pretty woman complains the decorations not being to her taste and the third about the weather failing to bring on the mood for her. Meanwhile, one guy does not mind the artificiality of the Christmas decor but welcomes being taken out of the daily humdrum, but the other guy reminds us that Christmas should have not be about shopping but should have a focus on the birth of the Savior. All of their answers given in great sincerity upon a bit of reflection. All of the people are so Swiss in their appearance, their attitude and I could not even say exactly why.
I remember the smoke-filled restaurants with the waitresses dressed in black wearing a money belt from which they gave us back change when we payed our bill of course always in cash and added a then common 15% tip for their service. Those often elderly waitresses were then called Fräulein (Misses, a rather disrespectful to grown women term that since has long been abandoned.)
I remember the popular music of those times too. And I remember those streets with their businesses, many still going strong more than half a century later. Modissa was a women's clothing store my Mom cleaned for a while in the early morning hours. It's also a store we got some of our dresses and sweaters from. Bally was the store for our shoes and boots, always.
Unggi, my uncle not by blood, worked at the main post office near the main train station and took me to where those packages were processed right before or after his retirement. Packages were always so carefully packaged and tightened with ropes many times over for safety.
I remember the smoke-filled restaurants with the waitresses dressed in black wearing a money belt from which they gave us back change when we payed our bill of course always in cash and added a then common 15% tip for their service. Those often elderly waitresses were then called Fräulein (Misses, a rather disrespectful to grown women term that since has long been abandoned.)
I remember the popular music of those times too. And I remember those streets with their businesses, many still going strong more than half a century later. Modissa was a women's clothing store my Mom cleaned for a while in the early morning hours. It's also a store we got some of our dresses and sweaters from. Bally was the store for our shoes and boots, always.
Unggi, my uncle not by blood, worked at the main post office near the main train station and took me to where those packages were processed right before or after his retirement. Packages were always so carefully packaged and tightened with ropes many times over for safety.
Yep, I started my life in those times and times they are changing, some, but some things do stay the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment