Lake Lunches
Since temperatures went down to the higher twenties after quite the heatwave, I like to go to the office a few days per week again and spend my lunch break at the public bath close by. After changing, I go for a quick dip, just a few strokes in the water. If it’s not too crowded, I take a break on the swim raft to take in the scenery. Boats tied to their buoys, the towers of the churches in the old town, the blue and white blinds of the noble «Eden au Lac», swans, swimmers, and stand-up paddlers around me, the hills and mountains in the distance.
The conversations of the other people sitting and lying on the raft center around experiences and struggles at work, reminding me that most of us flock to this bath from the offices around the lake for our lunch break. Like a one- to two-hour-long invasion onto its wooden planks. I am sure that the old ladies that spend their full days here know when we will be arriving, bracing themselves, maybe spreading their towels a bit wider to claim more space. They always occupy the best spot, right next to the water on the women’s side of the bath where they can bask in the sun the full day. They arrive early, leave late and spend their day chatting away, sleeping, and swimming. I catch many of them reading the newspaper that bears the same logo as the building that I work in. They rent a locker where they keep their towels and bathing suits so they don’t have to carry them here from their apartments in the affluent Seefeld neighborhood. They seem like a close group that has been coming here for years. While we all know by now how unhealthy their way of tanning is, their wrinkled, leathery, sagging skin with its deep bronze color is a rather beautiful sight against the blue of the water and the sky. Instead of SPF 50, they have bottles of tanning oil lying next to their towels.
After my swim, I fetch my book and lunch from the locker. While doing so, I am always very careful to not drop something and lose it to the water between the planks. The gap is just wide enough to swallow a phone and other essentials if they land in an unfortunate way. Sometimes I hear people talk about the things they lost while getting changed. A housekey, a belt, a favourite necklace; or even the key to their locker so the pool supervisor had to come and open it with a bolt cutter to retrieve its contents. I always imagine the ground of the lake below the bath strewn with all those lost keys, phones, and pieces of jewellery. Do divers come and retrieve these treasures or is it for future generations to uncover these relics baked into the mud long after we, the bath, and even the lake are gone?
I always pick the women’s side of the bath where women of all shapes and sizes lie sprawled across their blankets in groups or alone. The vibe here reminds me of Japanese public baths, where the intimacy of being naked in a room full of other women is met with a pleasant atmosphere of acceptance and anonymity. Even if you run into people from work, there is this silent agreement to just nod in recognition and then keep to yourself.
Since I spend most of my day talking, in calls and meetings, I do enjoy those solitary lunch breaks with a book and some music. I eat, I read, and I doze for a second before I head back to the office after what always feels like a mini-vacation. To me, these lake lunches are one of the ultimate perks of living in Zurich. Something I think I will never take for granted, even when my skin is as wrinkled and leathery as that of the old ladies who come here every day.
