Saturday/ rain

I changed hotels today (to the cheaper Zürich North Marriott Courtyard).  I thought I might fly to one more city, maybe two, but flying costs money, effort and time.  So I decided I will stay put in Zürich until I go home to Seattle on Wednesday.   I do plan to make day trips by train to Basel or Bern, or both.

Here’s the weather map for today (from the Tages-Anzeiger, Swiss daily national newspaper published in Zürich).  Temperatures are in °C (high 40s/ low 50s °F). These maps are a good way to brush up on one’s geography of where the cities are! It tells me Basel and Bern are within reach by an hour or two on the train. Gotthard (with its new base-tunnel for trains) and Logano in the south, alas, are a little too far – more than two hours one way.  So are Geneva and St Moritz.   St Moritz, famous for its ski slopes, made me look up the words to ‘Where do you go to (My lovely)?’ by British singer-songwriter Peter Sarstedt. I see Sarstedt passed away in January, age 75.
There was light rain all day, and into the evening. This is Bahnhof Oerlikon, close to my new hotel in Zurich North.  The station was remodeled in 2016. The neon yellow panels lit up by the roof lights are stand out nicely in the dark of night, especially for travelers like me, that are new to the area and the station.

Words for Where do you go to (My lovely)? -as recorded by Peter Sarstedt, 1969

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there’s diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are

You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do

You go to the embassy parties
Where you talk in Russian and Greek
And the young men who move in your circles
They hang on every word you speak, yes they do

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed?
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

I’ve seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back, and on your legs

And when the snow falls you’re found in St. Moritz
With the others of the jet set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don’t

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed?
Won’t you tell me the thoughts that surround you?
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

You’re in between twenty and thirty
That’s a very desirable age
Your body is firm and inviting
But you live on a glittering stage, yes you do, yes you do

Your name is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a race horse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, ha-ha-ha

They say that when you get married
It’ll be to a millionaire
But they don’t realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed?
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

I remember the back streets of Naples:
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, they tried

So look into my face, Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside

I know where you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
Cause I can look inside your head

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