One of the strangest cities I have ever traveled to is Zurich, Switzerland. I went on a whim, a midway stopping point between visiting my family in Calabria, Italy and a friend in Bamberg, Germany. At first glance, Zurich is quiet and reticent, but its reputation as Europe's prim and proper financial hub overshadows the city's truly unique, artistic culture. If you know me, or if you read my (old) blog enough, you'll know I am an artist, a lover of art, and a Dadaist through and through.
Dada is an art movement that found its roots in Zurich in the early 20th century as reaction to the first World War. It often mocked society and pushed back against the political propaganda of the day. Dada provided political and social commentary that manifested itself in a kind of conceptual art that called into question the very nature of the art and objects themselves. In Zurich and around Europe, artist began creating not for visual aesthetics, but instead to force viewers to confront what was going on in society and to question it. Dada art, in a very real sense, encouraged viewers not to take what is presented to them at face value, but instead encouraged them to question and ch
allenge every last detail of what is around them. This sense of independent thinking and being underpins much of the city's personality today and is nowhere more present than it is at the Cabaret Voltaire, the very cafe where the Dadaist movement was founded now over 100 years ago.
1. Cabaret Voltaire: Go For the Art History
"Dada is a new tendency in art. One can tell this from the fact that until now nobody knew anything about it, and tomorrow everyone in Zurich will be talking about it. Dada comes from the dictionary. It is terribly simple. In French it means 'hobby horse'. In German it means 'good-bye', 'Get off my back', 'Be seeing you sometime'. In Romanian: 'Yes, indeed, you are right, that's it. But of course, yes, definitely, right'. And so forth." - Hugo Ball, Dadaist Manifesto
Russian communist revolutionary,
This cafe is a Dadaist's dream because it's where the movement itself began when Hugo Ball read his Dadaist Manifesto. It's where the lunatics came to preform, socialize, and philosophize. Now, the cafe is just as unusual as it was when Hugo Ball dressed in paper cylinders and lobster claws. When I walked inside, I was surrounded by cheese socks, a fake fire, and made-up words. When I approached the counter to ask the bartender what people usually order, he said with a deadpan face, "absinthe." So at one o'clock in the afternoon, I sat in at the Cabaret Voltaire with an absinthe in hand. I didn't get far before I began to wish I had ordered coffee instead, but it honestly didn't matter to me what I was drinking because I was so excited to be in the Cabaret Voltaire. I sat down and pulled out the copy of the Dada Manifesto I had printed off back in the States before my month-long European adventure began. I began to read and it felt like I was there in 1916 reliving the very scene. I could even picture Hugo Ball standing there dressed in his cylindrical pieces, resembling something between a robot and upside down ice-cream cone.
Aside: Upon leaving Cabaret Voltaire, it was my intention to stroll down the snow-brushed cobblestone streets to find the Russian Communist Party's leader Vladimir Lenin's house, which I had noted in my itinerary before the trip as Spiegelgasse 17. I stood on Spiegelgasse staring at numbers 16 and 18, with number 17 nowhere in site. And until writing this post, 7 years after my trip to Zurich, it had been a mystery as to why I couldn't find Lenin's house. Well, I just looked it up again, and found that Le, beautifully decorated with an old fashioned cash register, twinkling lights, and heaping piles of macaroons in every color. nin lived with his wife Nadeshda Krupskaja at Spiegelgasse 14 in Zurich, not 17, (*eye roll to my younger self*).
2. Odeon: Go For the Political Hisotry
Possibly Zurich's most well-known cafe is Odeon. It's where Lenin sat with Kamenev and Trotsky to discuss tactics for what would later become the Bolshevik (or Russian) Revolution, which ushered in the rise of Communism and the Soviet Union. Hugo Ball, Sophie Taeuben, Tristan Tzara, Emmie Hennings, Richard Huelsenbeck, as well as other prominent Dadaist poets and artists gathered here as well, showing just how intertwined politics and art had become in Zurich. Albert Einstein and Benito Mussolini also visited the cafe, and the list goes on, making it a must-see spot for anyone visiting Zurich.
The beautiful and cozy Art Nouveau cafe was bustling with people even when everywhere else in the city was silent. When I first arrived, it had just begun to snow and the cafes red signage stood out against the whitened sky and black coats and briefcases that filled the streets. Crammed between tables, I sat down to take in the scene and the diverse crowd that came to gather. It was the perfect spot to sit unnoticed, sipping a glass of champagne as night began to settle in.
3. Conditorei Péclard im Schober: Go For the Pastries
The name of this place is a bit confusing. Some refer to it as Peclard, some Schober. I have found that they are interchangeable, but I technically I think that Peclard is the name of the pastry shop that is housed in the cafe Schober. But for all practical purposes, they are the same place.
The downstairs must be Peclard, the pastry shop. It is beautifully decorated with an old fashioned cash register, twinkling lights, and heaping piles of macaroons in every color. It is small and a perfect place to come alone. Little tables are set in a white-washed back room with windows overlooking a small outdoor patio oasis hidden away from the street. It was perfectly quaint as if it here meant for businesswoman to come alone before work to sip a coffee and pastry while pouring over the day's paper.
The upstairs of the cafe is quite different, a place for family and friends to gather and sip the cafe's world famous hot chocolate, though I do not recall it living up to the hype. The dark room was adorned with dim lights, exposed wood beams, and burgundy velvet chairs, which I snuggled up to write a few post cards before catching the train to Bamberg, Germany.
