The Joyce of Zurich ROSLYN DEE

An odyssey to the great man’s adopted city in Switzerland

THE view from the rooftop terrace of my hotel is spectacular. Straight down below me is the city’s beautiful opera house. There, in the near distance, is the spire of the Fraumunster church while, just across the river is its east-bank equivalent, the Grossmunster. Beyond, you can see the start of the most famous street in Zurich - the Bahnhofstrasse, celebrated for its designer shops with eyewatering prices but also for the sheer grandeur and length of the street itself. And then there’s the lake, of course, the vast expanse of water that lies at the heart of the city and

from which all manner of activities spring, especially in summer. Even when I visit in mid-February, boat trips are a particular attraction.

I don’t quite know what I was expecting on my first visit to Zurich but it wasn’t what I got. Maybe because of the whole banking vibe, I was anticipating more of a skyscraper city, a place much more clinical and lacking in character than the reality. For, in truth, Zurich is a beautiful city - fairly small in size, its lovely Old Town’s medieval treasures divided by the river, but with an overall elegance and atmosphere that give it a particular appeal.

And then there’s its cafe society tradition, something that stretches back down the years but still endures to this day. I discovered the famous Sprungli cafe on my first afternoon, right on that oh-so-chic Bahnhofstrasse, and returned to it twice more before I left for home. Nor was I the first Irish citizen to enjoy the delights of Zurich’s cafe society.

‘You’re from Ireland, aren’t you?’ the breakfast waitress enquired on my first morning when I was tucking into fresh fruit and yogurt followed by perfectly cooked scrambled eggs in the lovely diningroom of the Hotel Ambassador a l’Opera. I was, I confirmed.

‘Well,’ she continued, ‘you must visit Cafe Odeon. James Joyce used to meet his friends there.’

Ah, yes. James Joyce. His is a presence that still looms large in the Swiss city that was his home for some years and to which he returned to live again just shortly before his unexpected death in January 1941. To be honest, he is one of the reasons for my visit. Not because I am a particular expert on his books,, but because the man fascinates me, and I have always wanted to visit his grave.

First up, though, on my first morning, I need to get a feel for the place. And walking-tour guide, Elizabeth, with her encyclopeadic knowledge of the city, is just the one to help me. We set off towards the Old Town - on the Grossmunster side of the river - and she regales me with historic tales and details as we walk. The architecture is charming here (it reminds me of parts of medieval Tallinn) and the narrow cobbled streets steep in parts, but there’s plenty to take in. We pass the building that houses the James Joyce Foundation and Elizabeth stops dead in her tracks. I had contacted them in advance so I knew that they were closed at weekends but Elizabeth is determined to see if she can get us in. We get as far as the second floor, but, sadly, no further. Still, it’s wonderful to see that Joyce maintains such a prominent presence right in the heart of the city.

Across the river we go and into the Fraumunster church. With its striking green steeple this is one of Zurich’s most prominent landmarks. Built over the remains of a 9th century abbey, this is more parish church than cathedral. Unshowy it may be inside, but that only serves to set off the magnificent stained glass windows - the work of the artist Marc Chagall back in the 1960s.

Back on Bahnhofstrasse we catch a tram and then, from there, we jump on a funicular that rises steeply to deposit us at the university, on a higher level of the city, and from where the views are breathtaking.

Later that afternoon, having bid auf wiedersehen to Elizabeth with a farewell coffee and cake in Sprungli, I find myself eating again, this time ensconced amid the comfort and luxury of the Baur au Lac hotel, one of the city’s most historic hotels. This time it’s tea that’s the magnet - afternoon tea, to be precise, all itsy-bitsy sandwiches, little tufts of scones and the most delicate of pastries. And all washed down, in my case, with three different teas, each one subtly different, but the perfect accompaniment for the delicacies. A delightful way to pass an hour.