Strudel Doesn't Cross Borders

Switzerland is a country with majestic landscapes, tourist attractions, an abundance of natural treasures and resources, including what seem to be an endless amount of water, flowing and pooling at every corner.  When you arrive in Switzerland from Israel, where every shower or watering of the garden can lead to a crisis of conscience, there is no greater pleasure than a long hot shower in a hotel, knowing that the Rhine River is flowing torrentially through the center of town, and that water problems are sometimes only regional.  When visiting Switzerland, you start to wonder if Moses, when he was leading the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land, wasn't actually wishing to reach Switzerland.

In honor of our twentieth wedding anniversary, Betsy and I went for a bicycle trip in Switzerland.  Over three straight days we happily pedaled 160 kilometers along a stretch of the Rhine River.  Our route passed over the borders of three countries: Switzerland, Austria and Lichtenstein.  Crossing a border in Western Europe in the 21st century is practically a non-event, at least for the casual tourist. One moment you're in one country and the next moment you're in its neighbor. 

One of my greatest weaknesses since childhood is apple strudel.  Evidently, this can be traced to the oven of my late mother Zehava, whose golden, fragrant apple strudel was my desire.  During apple season, and at every holiday, celebration or birthday, I was treated to one of these exceptional confections which, after emerging from the oven, would last only twenty-four hours in the refrigerator before quickly disappearing, slice by slice, roll by roll.

When I married Betsy, she quickly recognized the magic power of strudel over her new husband, and since then she faithfully and lovingly carries on the family strudel tradition.

So when we decided to do a bicycle trip in Switzerland, knowing that it borders both Germany and Austria, the kingdoms of the strudel, it was absolutely clear to me that, between the kilometers of strenuous biking, I would be able to treat myself to the original European strudel, on its home turf.  My hopes for apple strudel were stellar but they quickly came down to earth.  As great as my hopes were, so was the disappointment.

From the first moment we landed in the Zurich airport, through the various train stations, and every welcoming, picturesque village that we passed through during our bicycle vacation, I asked over and over again, in my faltering German, at first out of curiosity in an assured voice full of expectancy, which would gradually trail off as the hope faded:  "Do you have any apple strudel?"

To my surprise and great disappointment, the answer I received again and again was "no".  I tried to figure out what the root of the problem was. Why can't you find a good strudel in Switzerland?  At one point, Betsy and I speculated that there was no strudel because the apple season hadn't started, but then we remembered that we'd seen plenty of apples everywhere.  There were also bakeries on every corner, displaying many other different kinds of cakes on their burgeoning shelves.  Just apple strudel was missing!

The answer to the mystery we got towards the end of our trip, from an unexpected source, in the Walzenhausen Hotel in a small village of the same name.  The village of Walzenhausen is situated at the slopes of a mountain range that towers over the Rhine River, and overlooks Lake Constanz, at the point where the river joins the lake on the Swiss side.  It's a small village, with only about 2000 residents, and we reached it with our bicycles on a small red lift that climbed the mountain for exactly 8 minutes and deposited its passengers at the front door of a beautiful spa hotel, whose restaurants and windows offered a breathtaking view of the lake and its surroundings.

We reached this delightful hotel after a tiring day of biking, sweaty and aching.  After a quick dip in the pool and the long hot (and guilt-free) shower, we understood that the hotel restaurant was the only place in this little village where one could eat dinner.  We sat down at a small table that looked out onto the exceptional view, and we ordered steamed asparagus and rice.  Food is extremely costly in Switzerland, and already from the beginning of our trip we realized that paying too much attention to the prices on the menu is not advisable as it can lead to a stomach ache even before the meal.

During our dinner, the hotel manager came to our table.  A European gentleman, meticulously dressed and comfortably self-assured.  He introduced himself and we exchanged pleasant small talk. When he heard that we were celebrating our twentieth anniversary, he explained with a small smile that he has two wives, his beloved spouse and his hotel, and the hotel comes first.

As we chatted, we found that he was very familiar with Israel and that in the past he had managed a hotel in Africa with an Israeli owner.  I asked him the question that had been bothering me for days: "why can't I find apple strudel in Switzerland?"  The hotel manager smiled and explained what to him was clear and evident.  "Strudel is an Austrian dish!  We are Swiss!  Why would we Swiss make an Austrian cake?"  Whoever wants Austrian strudel should go to Austria!"

And then it was clear. We weren't just talking about cake.  It was a matter of national identity and patriotic pride!

I thanked the hotel manager and he continued on to another table of guests, while I looked at my wife with satisfaction that only grew as I continued to ponder the subject.  Finally, we had found a place and topic that we Israelis could relate to with satisfaction with our lot.  Here in peaceful, picturesque Europe, the citizens and tourists - because of honor and national pride - must do without the most significant and important things such as apple strudel.  And for us, in the Middle East, the traditional foods cross man-made borders freely.

Hummus, falafel, pita bread and baklava. These are only a few from a long list of foods that extend across borders that visiting tourists can find in Israel, but also in restaurants and bakeries in the neighboring countries of Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon and Syria. 

Disagreements and conflicts we have aplenty. And water in dire shortage. Our rivers are barely streams. The borders are marked by fences and landmines, and to pass from Israel to a neighboring country is difficult and not open to everyone, but at least the food can cross freely! All hope isn't lost!

For comments: melamed.sagi@gmail.com   
June 2011