Down the stream in Basel

It’s been about twenty years since my last time in Basel, I hope they don’t remember me. I walk along the river Rhine and think back on the past two decades and how everything has changed, yet stayed the same.

Hanging around in Basel.

Some things never change, such as the brutally strong current of the Rhine. I cross the Mittlere Brücke and look down on young people drifting downstream on giant buoys, floating toward Germany like driftwood. It seems to be a popular pastime, but I can think of several better things to do. Like eating ice cream.

Along the Rhine.

Even though it looks fun to float down the river with a “wickelfisch” (waterproof bag for your clothing), I opt for a less perilous ride. For one Euro I board a line-driven ferry which takes me over the Rhine.

Mittlere Brücke crossing the Rhine.

Augustinergasse is a crooked postcard with colorful houses leaning toward the river, their facades holding laughter and secrets. The street leads me to the magnificent Minster, its twin spires clawing into the sky. Beyond its back gardens I follow the old stairs down to a crypt where Dompropst Ramstein lies in marble silence since 1367. Set in stone and time, he doesn’t move but still seems alive in the damp air.

I realize there’s comfort in something fixed, in knowing that some stones won’t shift, despite the perpetual flow of the river.