Friday, June 26th, was Bill’s last day of in person classes for the summer session at the C.G. Jung Institute. He would be spending the entire day in a seminar, with a smaller group of students. Meanwhile, I was going to do what I’d been doing all week… sitting by the lake. 😁

We went down to breakfast, and I decided to try something that wasn’t an egg dish. I went for French toast. We were met at the restaurant by a familiar face… the same guy who was running breakfast in the Stübli last fall. I noticed he gave us power shots made with beet juice. This was something I remember he did in the fall, but Friday was the first time we had power shots during our most recent visit to the Sonne Seehotel.

As for Bill, I think he might have had another serving of the Arme Ritter, which he said was his favorite breakfast item all week. I, of course, would not touch it, because it included truffles. But we had the usual etagè, bread, juice, water, coffee, etc., as well.

Because I’d made a habit out of skipping lunches, I did miss the protein from the eggs, later on in the day. That’s the only reason I’d wish for a slightly larger portion of French toast. What I got was only about three bites worth, which seems a bit strange, given the size of the egg dishes. However, the French toast was delicious and expertly prepared.

After Bill went to class and I did my usual writing, I went down to the lake. There was a middle aged couple there, and a younger woman in a bikini. I thought they were together, because the young woman was lying on a lounger on the same row of four loungers with them. She had dumped a bunch of her stuff on the one lounger that wasn’t occupied.

I was a little disappointed, since the staff had removed the umbrellas and there was a lack of shaded loungers. As a very light colored person, I burn easily in the sun. But, they were there first, and fair is fair. I moved an unoccupied lounger closer to a chestnut tree and took a seat. The canvas barrier was still up, because there was a wedding taking place at the hotel later. That made the garden a bit crowded with lounge chairs, most of which had no shade cover.

After a little while, the young woman got up from her shady spot, and moved to a lounger in the sun, still leaving her stuff on the other two loungers she had occupied. I tried to ignore the inconsideration as I looked on… reminded of people who show up early to the pools on cruise ships and mark their territory with books, towels, clothes, etc. Then, they go do their thing, and other guests feel like they can’t use the otherwise unused lounger in a prime spot.

At one point, the woman got up and left, but her stuff was still on three loungers. I was feeling pretty annoyed, but more on behalf of other people who wouldn’t be able to find shade. By that point, the sun had moved, and my lounger was in a shady spot. I also had a better view of the windows of my room, which made it easier to tell when the housekeeper had been there. I could see if the window looked different from where I was sitting.

The couple, who were there when I arrived, were still occupying two other shaded loungers. The man got up and left, leaving his attractive blonde wife sitting there alone. After about a half hour or so, she said, “Excuse me. Are you going to be sitting out here for much longer?”

I said, “I’m just waiting for housekeeping to clean my room.”

She smiled and said, in an accent that sounded vaguely British, but was probably continental European, “That other lady asked me to watch her things, but we’ve checked out of the hotel, and we have to leave.”

My eyes widened and I said, “You mean she’s not with you?”

The lady shook her head and said, “No. She said she’d be right back, and asked if I’d mind her belongings because she’s already checked out of the hotel. But I have to go, myself.”

Not really wanting to be saddled with the responsibility of watching some strange entitled woman’s stuff, but still feeling kind of bad for the kind woman who had done her a favor, I said “Well, I don’t think anyone will mess with her things.”

I had been watching all week, and noticed that the garden generally wasn’t occupied by anyone who didn’t belong there. I’d seen people’s stuff left out there, completely unbothered, for hours. I’m not saying that I would confidently leave my own stuff there, but I had a feeling the entitled lady’s stuff would be okay.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and she mentioned the wedding that was taking place at the hotel, which made me glad we were leaving on Saturday, instead of Sunday. Finally, she said goodbye, and I sat there for a few more minutes alone before the entitled lady reappeared. She was wearing a dress and a big smile.

“Oh… thank you so much for watching my stuff!” she said, in European accented English.

I kind of nodded at her, because at no point had I told anyone that I was accepting responsibility for watching this weird lady’s bags. Furthermore, I was pretty irritated by her incredible sense of entitlement, and complete lack of consideration for other people.

I didn’t want to get into an altercation with this strange woman, so I didn’t tell her what I was thinking. Instead, I took a short dip in the lake… you know, to cool off. 🙄🤬

More time passed, and a couple more people showed up. They took the loungers vacated by the first couple. Soon, late morning turned into early afternoon. The garden filled up with people hoping to escape the heat of their hotel rooms. The entitled lady, stripped back down to a bikini, continued to sit on her lounger, working on her laptop computer. Her stuff was still strewn on two other loungers, one of which was in prime real estate for shade.

I heard an American accented man enter the garden, accompanied by one of the hotel’s receptionists. He had his wife and two daughters with him. They looked like they were probably of Italian descent. None of them were dressed for swimming, but obviously, they were too early to check into the hotel.

The man said, laughing, “This is where they bring you the Piña Coladas…”

Obviously, he was joking, but the receptionist must have thought he was serious, because he said “No, no one will bring you drinks here. You must go to the Biergarten.”

Meanwhile, the man’s wife was looking rather uncomfortable. She kept walking around. I didn’t know if maybe she was uncomfortable because of the lack of shade, or because she just felt unsettled, in general.

The family awkwardly sat there for a short while, but then abruptly left the garden. A few minutes later, the two teen girls with the older couple reappeared. Both girls were wearing bathing suits.

It was at that point that the entitled lady turned to me, a big, friendly smile on her face, and said completely shamelessly, “Hey… would you mind sharing your WiFi password with me? Mine doesn’t work anymore.” She paused for a moment, clearly realizing that it’s weird to ask strangers to share their password, and added “Or is that not okay?”

I told her the truth, which was “Actually, I’m not using WiFi.” And I wasn’t. I was using cell service from an eSim that I bought for my tablet.

She smiled sheepishly, and went into the lake. I looked up at the window for my hotel room, noticed the shade was pulled, and decided I’d had quite enough of her bullshit. I packed up my stuff and left, marveling at that woman’s nerve. Clearly, she’s used to manipulating people into doing her bidding, and taking advantage of most people’s kindness. Fuck that!

As I was leaving, the American wife had returned, dressed in an expensive looking cover up. I gave her a smile, and she smiled back. Hopefully, the entitled loser didn’t con her out of her WiFi password. 🤬

***

I went back into the room to wait for Bill. The housekeeper had drawn the shades on all the windows, which kept out some of the sun. I decided to take a couple of photos of the steps one must climb to get in and out of our junior suite. Again… this is not the best room for people with mobility issues. No joke– I think Bill and I are getting to a point at which these kinds of steps might be problematic for us! But… it is an old hotel, and the building is historic…

When Bill got back from his class, we decided to have dinner at the Pavilion Restaurant, rather than look for something in town. That turned out to be a good choice for a few reasons. Again, because I knew there was a wedding party going on, we decided to go down there early. It was at that point that another weird situation developed.

***

I put on my trusty blue dress, and Bill gussied up a little bit with a clean t-shirt. 🤭 It wasn’t really necessary to dress nicely, but all week, I’d noticed the well-to-do clientele at the hotel. So many of the women wore cute dresses and expensive shoes. I didn’t want to look like a slob… although that might be a lost cause.

Bill and I greeted the same waiter who had laughed at me on Sunday afternoon, when we first arrived at the hotel. Just before we sat down to our first meal there– which happened to be a late lunch– I had grumped at Bill that I needed to pee. The waiter had overheard it, laughed uproariously, and pointed me in the direction of the restroom, where there were four little girls already in there, completely occupying the space. I felt like I was watching a clown car, as the four of them tumbled out of the bathroom. I remember saying, “Anybody else?” before I took my turn.

That guy hadn’t waited on us on Sunday. Instead, his colleague did. The colleague bore a striking resemblance to Prince William, the Prince of Wales. The other guy, also tall and balding, had a slightly less refined appearance. For dinner on Friday night, he greeted us with gusto, and invited to sit down.

I took a seat on the vinyl upholstered bench, obviously custom made for the restaurant. It probably cost a lot of money. I liked it for its lack of armrests, so my wide hips could be free. 😏 Our waiter brought us gin & tonics made with Hendrick’s gin, and garnished with cucumber and black pepper.

We started looking at the menu, when all of a sudden, I heard a male voice say, in an obviously angry tone, “Your nipple. NIPPLE!” He growled something else at her that I didn’t quite catch.

That’s not the kind of thing one usually hears in a nice restaurant, so I looked up to see who had said it. I saw a middle aged man with slightly long, dark, wavy hair. He wore sunglasses, a black polo type shirt, and green shorts. He was tan, and looked like he had money.

With him was a beautiful young woman with long black hair that she’d put up in an immaculate French twist. She wore a blue and white cotton frock that looked expensive, and was perfectly pressed. I noticed that she didn’t have an extra ounce on her. She had perfect legs, with no cellulite whatsoever.

There was also a young man who looked like maybe the older teenaged son of the man. I don’t think he was the woman’s son, because she appeared to be too young to be his mother. She also had a little boy with her, who looked like maybe he was between the ages of 2 and 3 years old. I noticed he had a full head of brown hair, a mouth full of baby teeth, and big, expressive eyes.

The man stalked off, leaving the woman, the teen, and the little boy at their table. The teen looked embarrassed, while the mother seemed resolved. She said something to the toddler, who immediately melted down into tears.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on that kid’s face. It was a look of profound disappointment and grief, as he cried in the middle of the restaurant. The woman picked up her stuff and the little boy, and they left the restaurant to join the man, who was still scowling near the entrance.

Based only on what the man had snapped, and then the child’s reaction when the woman spoke to him, I surmise that the issue had to do with breastfeeding. I got the sense that maybe they were Americans, and perhaps the boy was not yet fully weaned. Like a lot of Americans, especially men, the man probably felt uncomfortable with his wife breastfeeding in public.

In Europe, public breastfeeding is not really a big deal. I’ve seen plenty of women feeding their babies in public. I’ve also seen a lot of little kids running around naked at Freibads. Nudity isn’t really a big deal in most parts of Europe.

I could be totally wrong about what it looked like I witnessed, but that’s what it seemed like happened. I felt really sad for the little boy. He looked like such a sweet kid. It’s not his fault his father (or perhaps grandfather?) has hang ups about breastfeeding, and thinks of women’s breasts as purely sexual, rather than a source of nourishment for his son. Or… so I assume, anyway. For all I know, he was grousing about the woman’s nipples for some other reason.

In any case, that guy probably doesn’t deserve that woman’s company. She was very young and pretty, and could do much better than him. But, for all I know, he was actually her father. He certainly appeared to be old enough. 🤷‍♀️

***

After that brief, but disturbing disruption, Bill and I turned our attention back to the menu. Since it was our last night, we decided to go all out. I started with a tomato and strawberry salad, followed by dorade. Bill had the wonderful scampi appetizer I had on Sunday, followed by veal. We started with the fresh baked bread, and accompanied dinner with a bottle of Weissburgunder from the Rheingau.

We enjoyed a very leisurely dinner. The waiter who had seated us told us a little about himself. He said he had come to Switzerland by way of Munich, having been born and raised in Lithuania. Bill and I visited Lithuania last year, and thought of it as a beautiful place. But then, we went to Vilnius… perhaps the rest of the country is not quite as developed. The waiter told us that everyone he knew had left Lithuania, so he hadn’t been back there in twenty years, and saw no reason to return. Frankly, I’m starting to feel the same way about my own homeland.

At some point, the Lithuanian waiter disappeared, and the Prince William looking waiter took over. I was struck in the difference between their approaches. “Prince William” was obviously more professional and refined. He told us he’d come to Küsnacht from Mannheim, which is not far from where Bill and I live. Now, next time I take a train past the Mannheim station, I’ll think of him!

Finally, it was time for dessert. I decided to go for the Caramel Brownie Sundae, with vanilla ice cream, caramel sauce, whipped cream, and chocolate. Bill had the strawberries, with Woodruff sabayon and almond crumble. Looks like it also had ice cream in it. The sundae was not what I had expected, but I really enjoyed it just the same!

After dessert, we paid the check and headed back to our room for our last night at the Sonne Seehotel.

I’ll write the final part to this series later… possibly today, or maybe tomorrow. It will probably be short. Stay tuned!