A calendar notification reminded me today that our flight to Zurich is tomorrow. I had not bothered to update my calendar, which is full of dates and events for our visit to Switzerland during the next two weeks. Normally I would be packing meticulously late into the night before our flight. But these are not normal times.
The extent to which my life and plans are disrupted by this pandemic may seem inconsequential considering the global disruption. Nevertheless, not being able to go to Switzerland tomorrow as we had planned and were so much looking forward to leaves me wehmütig, something between wistful and sad or both.
I have been sulking about it and will probably sulk some more in the coming days and weeks, possibly until we get to go to Switzerland again. The thought of how long this stifling state of confinement will last is distressing. At least the one advantage of all this social distancing and shelter in place is that nobody has to hear me lament, except Martin.
Luckily as much as I wallow in self-pity, even I get bored with it quick. I should probably delete all the plans and events I had thoroughly entered into our calendars with alerts to remind us when we were to be where; celebrating Easter with Martin’s parents in Appenzell, celebrating with friends in Zurich, skiing the majestic panoramic landscape surrounding the Matterhorn during the day and enjoying the good life at Zermatt Unplugged in the evenings, etc.
But then again why bother with the tedium of updating calendars. 2020 is already marked in history.
Instead I’ll get lost again and finally finish Der Zauberberg, or The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann’s seminal work of literature about Hans Castorp, a young engineer who goes to visit his sick cousin at a luxurious sanatorium in the Swiss Alps for three weeks and ends up staying seven years.
The story is about Hans Castorp’s journey in which life revolves around a daily routine of extravagance, leisure, rest, and philosophical discussions on the meaning of life and death, all within the backdrop of spellbinding alpine landscape around the confines of the bubble that is the sanatorium.
It is a monumental examination of and reflection on society and the sources of destruction thereof. Does this sound eerily familiar? Then read on. It is one of those books for being “stranded on a deserted island” with. And in a way, we are all right now.
If the 900-something pages are daunting and you prefer more Magic than the weight of the Mountain, then definitely watch Paolo Sorrentino’s Youth with Michael Caine and Harvey Keitel, who are delightful as old friends on holiday in the Swiss alps.
A beautiful film of stunning landscape and scenery and just as stunning-looking people. And music, glorious music. We need more of that now too. It is a rumination on friendship, the past, the future, life and, yes, death too.
Incidentally it was filmed at the Schatzalp that was made iconic through The Magic Mountain, which found many readers who made pilgrimages, myself included although mine was a mere weekend’s stay just as intended.