Swiss and Switzerland

ChatGPT had the following to say about this place:

The paper factory in Biberist (just outside Solothurn) operated for over 150 years and supplied Switzerland with printing paper, packaging material, and later high-quality specialty papers. At its peak, it employed several hundred workers and shaped the entire region.

Shut down in 2011 — and slowly reborn
After the factory closed, the huge site didn’t vanish. Instead, it entered a long-term transformation into a new district for:

• guided industrial-heritage tours
• artist studios and creative spaces
• cultural events
• small tech and production companies
• exhibitions about the paper-making process

Visitors can now walk through parts of the old plant, see original machines, and get a sense of the enormous energy and water systems required to run a mill of this scale.

I can’t honest remember if this is the river Aare or the river Reust – but it doesn’t really matter because almost all rivers in Switzerland are named either the Aare or the Reust!  Anway, it was taking one fall day in Solothurn:

ChatGPT had to say this about the place:

• It sits at the far end of the Verenaschlucht, a narrow, shaded gorge just outside Solothurn, known for its mossy bridges, water channels, and quiet hiking paths.
• The small complex includes the St. Verena Chapel, the St. Martin Chapel, and the hermit’s living quarters.
• For centuries, the site has maintained a tradition of having a resident hermit or caretaker — historically a religious hermit, today more of a spiritual custodian.
• Even now, one person still lives there, tending the site, ringing the bell, keeping candles lit, and caring for the visitors who come for reflection or prayer.
• The place blends nature and spirituality — water trickles through the gorge, candles flicker in the stone niches, and it feels almost outside of time.

Actually called the Bundeshaus, this is where the Swiss government meets. As with most things in Switzerland that look old, it only looks old. The building was completed in the latter part of the 19th century.

It was built in 1545-46 by the Swiss Renaissance sculptor Hans Gieng.

I guess you could be forgiven for thinking that this was a huge space man – which I originally did – until I realized that in fact it is a race car driver, in front of an automobile store in Biel.

This is the view looking out of the office in the Rolex building, just adjacent to mine (my office, not my building). Just to the left of the steeple you can see the Mont Blanc, on a clear day.

A slightly different version of this snap,

 

Continuing the series,

 

One of the most interesting qualities of the Swiss is that they are reserved: not necessarily shy or introverted, just deeply reluctant to do anything that would make themselves stand out.

Perhaps that’s why, in a country with dozens of rivers, they’ve decided to name most of them . . . the Aare!

The Aare starts as glacier meltwater near Grimsel Pass, then twists, turns, dives through lakes, splits into canals, merges again. And everywhere it goes, it’s still called the Aare.

In any other country, if a river split, one fork might keep the name while the others get new ones. But not here. In Switzerland, nobody wants to stick their neck out and declare, “I shall now rename this offshoot the… Neo-Aare.”

Nope. Just like its quieter cousin, the Reuss, the Aare is composed of various rivers, ditches, canals, and flows . . .  all politely calling themselves . . . the Aare.

While the Swiss politely avoid drawing attention to themselves by naming every river “Aare” and quietly pretending forks don’t exist, the Bavarians took a very different approach, most likely with some Slavic encouragement.

In Bavaria, no river escapes without a unique identity: The Regnitz, Pegnitz, Rotnitz, Pulsnitz. Each and every puddle gets its own title and backstory. That’s the Slavic influence for you: “nitz” everywhere, like the ancient Slavs looked at a stream and thought, “You’re special, little puddle. You deserve your own name.”

Meanwhile, the Swiss were still debating whether it was too forward to label their water at all.

I took this snap of the famous Engelbrunnen fountain in the town center of Biel, although to be honest the light was pretty poor:

I don’t know the details, but it looks 100% exactly identical to the famous fountains in Bern, created by Hans Gieng between 1542 and 1549 – and since Biel is so close to Bern, I am assuming this one came from him as well. Interestingly, the fountains in Zurich and in Bern originally used spring water — but today use this water as well, as an emergency backup in case anything happens to the main water supply. The Swiss love to be prepared!