Crossing the Rhine by ferry. The water here in Basel is as greenish-blue as Bissier painted it (Fähre in Basel, 1928), but the sky is exclusively blue. In Europe, cranes tower over buildings, and the skyline is full of them. At the Messeplatz, the tallest building in Switzerland doesn’t equal the height of two cranes. The public restrooms are fully automated, and hose themselves down after every use. Mothers dress like daughters, girls like women, and a clothing store doubles as a café. Paying for my beer is an ordeal; the waiter speaks in Swiss-German, and I understand a word at most. Exasperated, I put my money on the table and let him take what he needs: an outrageous amount, I think.