On this week, during The Most Beautiful 3 Days of the Year, we ask „What makes an Auslander ?“ or, perhaps, „What makes a Basler ?“
On An Auslander from Bern, 5 years
There surely is not a person on this planet actually from where they are. Our ancestors followed the tides, and the sun, and the waters, & the moon to where they could live. A history professor of mine once said: “When you examine civilisations, consider geography.” Most specifically, he advised: pay strict attention to rivers. For, wherever rivers are, civilisations follow.
The next time your Auntie soared low enough in a plane to test his theory, she saw it proved true. Along rivers & their tributaries, nestled factories, farmlands, & homes.
“I came to Basel for a unique opportunity. There was nothing like it – is nothing like it – in all of Switzerland.”
“At first it was great. I felt really welcomed. Energy was really high. It was awesome.”
“And then it changed. Things got really funky.”
“I thought: I’m not so far from Bern. This is Switzerland’s city of art & culture. I open my door. I have a big table. I invite people to come in. At first they do, then nothing … I lost everything. I thought to myself: how can this be ? How can I connect to this city ? Feel the pulse of this city ?”
…
For Readers familiar with your Auntie’s friends, you may be thinking you know who this Bernese is. But, Darlings, bears do love honey. And so your Auntie’s been blessed to find many a freshly finished hibernating bear scratching his head, slightly grumbling near her.
And, given your Auntie’s old saloon girl nature, once these bears finish their first sip of mead, they share their stories of what it is like to awake in a world after months of sleep. To clamber to the river, swipe a fresh fish, open your eyes, & wonder where you are. How you got there. If you’ll stay. And … if anyone even cares.
This is the gravy soup of our despair.
And this is nothing to be ashamed of, Darling. This fear makes you human. And accepting it in yourself, allows you to recognise it in everyone … & then you’ll be able to find your strength in it.
Centuries of moons ago, your Rambling Auntie followed a river atop a proud stallion to a beer-soaked town with only one saloon. Immediately embraced, she invited green fairies, & blue bunnies, & all her other glittery friends to come join her. Come play. Come revel in the magical welcoming beauty of Basel.
Until boys in ten-gallon hats gathered. Drawled, “Darlin’ … this town ain’t big enough for both of us.” Then drew first & shot.
One by one, again, Magical Friends Fell. Like stardust. Your Auntie – The Darlin’ In Question – faced a posse who told her to work for free.
…
Mistaking a saloon girl for a prostitute is a rookie mistake. Truths: we adore pleasures. We live for fun & freedom. And, accustomed to being present to people in pain, we stamp out fear & greed … & then wipe the grime from our pretty pink boots.
We serve people who need someone to say to them, perhaps without words: you’re understood & cared about. And we both know you are strong enough to get through.
There is a reason both the whore & the saloon girl are from out of town.
When at our most vulnerable – socially, economically, politically, etc – our primordial truths pang strongest. Fears about abandonment, our needs for pleasure & acceptance, leave soft underbellies exposed. And, open to exploitation by people in power, becomes the very ammo that kills us.
The posse that kills us is our very Human need to belong which, when exploited, robs us of balance. Our strength. Constantly trying to win approval results in prostitution.
Us saloon girls, on the other gun-toting hand, take a swig of bourbon & give Cheshire grins. Then choose to reserve our most intimate selves for only others like us – those swimming in that primordial gravy soup – accepting & discovering humanity.
“Hardly anyone I know in Switzerland is fully Swiss. I’m not. And, in a town with so many people living or working across borders & coming here for school or work or other things, what does it even mean to be a Basler ?”
In the city that founded Humanism, perhaps that’s a good question to ask.
“The thing is: only Baslers can wear the mask.”
True. Yet, perhaps the thing is, Dear Auslander Like You & Me: only some Baslers fear they must.
For the rest of us, this truly is The 3 Most Beautiful Days … because everyone has to start somewhere …
Parzelle403: Unterer Heuberg 21, 4051 Basel. Freshly, homemade gravy soup served daily with every delicious onion chopped lovingly by accepting hands every evening of Fasnacht.
Monday: Hip Hop
Tuesday: Old Rockabilly & Soul
Wednesday: Funk & Reggae
Follow the river. Swim with the bears. Enjoy the soup.
Fearless masked Baslers welcomed, too.
XO
AS