The river Limmat opens up before me as I drift away from the busy square. It runs through the center of the city, into Zurichsee, and bridges cross it every few blocks. The bright blue never fades, even in the rain (which I experience later on my trip), and the swans and boat taxis are ever present. On sunny days, people scatter along the walkways near the river—sunbathing, eating gelato, playing instruments. Mirroring the Fraumunster, on the other side of the bridge, is the Grossmunster, an equally-large church with double towers protruding in front. There is music on every corner; an older gentleman stations himself on one corner of the bridge for many of the days I am there, letting his accordion ring out across the water. 

…

I leave Zurich walking backward, staring as long as I can at the city with a heart. Somehow I am nervous I’ll never see it again, even though I’ve already booked the same hostel for the last few days of my two-week jaunt. I spend the train to Chur staring out the window at some of the more rural areas of Switzerland. Small homes are spread thin across the countryside. I picture spending summers there growing vegetables, and imagine winters with dustings of snow and loved ones all gathered round. But the warm envelope of Zurich still calls me back to it.