Sunday in Zurich: finding familiarity in the unfamiliar

The alarm went off at 7:00, and I was up and ready by 7:30 - though I had nowhere specific to be. Old habits. I watched the city wake up from my hotel window, the streets gradually filling with people heading to church or Sunday markets. The morning light was gentle on Zurich's orderly streets, everything bathed in that particular autumn glow that makes even ordinary buildings look like they're posing for photographs.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel (decent coffee, excellent bread), I decided to take advantage of the morning to explore the ETH Zurich campus. I'd read that Einstein studied here, and something about walking the same halls as one of history's greatest minds appealed to me.

I arrived at 9:50, ten minutes before the main building opened to visitors. The campus sits on a hill overlooking the city, and while waiting, I took in the panoramic view. The architecture is this perfect blend of 19th-century grandeur and modern additions - much like the institution itself, honoring tradition while pushing boundaries.

When the doors opened, I spent about an hour wandering the corridors, pausing to read plaques about famous alumni and notable scientific achievements. Standing in the physics department where Einstein once studied felt surprisingly moving. These spaces where great minds have worked contain a certain energy - as if the walls themselves absorbed some of that brilliance over the decades.

Afterward, I took the Polybahn funicular back down to the city center. It's a charming little funicular railway that's been operating since 1889, carrying students and professors up and down the steep hill. The ride takes less than two minutes but offers a delightful perspective of the city's rooftops.

Now I'm sitting in a café near the Limmat River, watching Sunday unfold around me. There's something about Zurich that feels oddly familiar despite being new to me. Perhaps it's the efficiency, the cleanliness, the sense that everything works exactly as it should. The streets are immaculate, trams arrive precisely on schedule, and even the Sunday morning café service runs with clockwork precision.

The Zurich Wine Festival is happening today - its final day actually. I've spotted several signs around the city and overheard conversations about it. I'm considering heading over after lunch, though wine tasting before noon feels a bit indulgent, even for a Sunday.

It's currently 11:50, and the temperature is a brisk 8°C according to my phone, though the forecast shows it warming up to around 14°C later today. The sky is mostly cloudy, but there are patches of blue appearing. I've learned to appreciate these small weather mercies after 54 days on the road.

I'm still processing yesterday's visit to the Titanic exhibition. Those personal artifacts - a pair of spectacles, a leather wallet, a child's toy - they've stayed with me. There's something profoundly moving about objects that survived when their owners didn't. They become more than just things; they're vessels of memory, tangible connections to lives suddenly interrupted.

Perhaps that's what travel is about at its core - creating connections. With places, with history, with strangers who become momentary companions. Fifty-four days in, with 446 still ahead, I'm beginning to understand that the map of this journey isn't just geographical. It's a web of these connections, stretching across continents but also across time.

I plan to spend the afternoon exploring the Old Town more thoroughly and perhaps visiting the FIFA World Football Museum. I've heard mixed reviews, but I'm curious about how they've presented the global history of the sport.

Tomorrow, I want to spend more time by Lake Zurich if the weather improves. There's something about large bodies of water that helps me think clearly. And I still need to find a good spot for traditional Swiss cuisine - the hotel receptionist recommended a place called Zeughauskeller that apparently serves excellent Zürich Geschnetzeltes (sliced veal in cream sauce).

For now, though, I'm content to sit here a while longer, watching Zurich's Sunday rhythm unfold around me, feeling simultaneously like a visitor and somehow at home.