FRONTI NULLA FIDES

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< place no trust in appearances >

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Ferns and roses

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A well-known Basler columnist took this information as stuff for a wonderfully witty essay which almost reads as if it were a ‘Letter to Zürich’ written from a little brother. A little brother however, who has outgrown or rather never saw the need to show-off or scream about its own worth. Basel is seldom mentioned in such ratings and more often than not, passes as invisible but this doesn’t seem to bother the Basler at all or in any way shake their self-esteem. There is a wonderful word that comes to mind. On Isola Bella it’s omnipresent, everywhere you look – on the gigantic lemon- and orange-tree flower pots, on the coat of arms, on the stone pathing, in the woven wall tapestries there it is – the symbol of three intersecting rings and above it written, carved in stone or woven in coloured threads - the word, Humilitas.

Humilitas, the Latin root of our modernday word humility, meaning not only the idea of being humble but also connotating the concept of an intrinsic sense of self-worth. To be ‘grounded’ or ‘of the earth’ are other possible interpretations because of the word’s connection to the word, ‘humus’ (earth).

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As for Basel, speaking to a fashion designer recently about the city and its self-confident and undeniable presence in Miami, the plee for independant coverage in journalism (BAZ) etc. I concluded, ‘For me, it feels like Basel still belongs to the Basler’.

I like that!

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http://www.marmite.ch/das-fragebuch/

Have fun! By the way, the Berg Kartoffel, a special variety of mountain potato from Flims, we tasted at Andrin’s a couple of months ago and wow – that was something else! So we’ll be planting them in the garden this year -  and have already planned a summer tasting party - Can’t wait! Roll on spring and summer…

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Early in the morning, in a sheltered corner of the garden – when the sun makes snow and ice melt to water on pussy willows…

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Leading up to the old Sylvester celebrations in Appenzell, a young boy listens while his peers sing ancient songs in a local Beiz in Hundwil… sends shivers down your spine. The boy’s gaze reflecting the timeless mood of the evening with its archaic remnants of oral tradition where sounds more than words speak across the centuries and melodies get passed on from one generation to the next – in this neck of the woods, it’s an exclusively male domain.

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Ring out the old, bring in the new…

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