I am in a hotel in the town of Waldshut in southern Germany. Waldshut lies directly on the German – Swiss border, marked on the south side of the town by the Rhine. The taxi ride from Zürich is extremely pleasant, sunny, livened by the (German) taxi driver’s conversation although he mistakenly identifies Manchester as the home of the Beatles when I tell him where I’ve flown from.
The view from my hotel window over the Rhine and the fields suffers from having the Leibstadt nuclear power plant in it. When it first comes into view the driver reminds me of some interesting expressions the locals use to describe the Swiss.