Bellariastrasse, 8038
Six years ago, in late July 2018, we moved into a little apartment on Bellariastrasse.
Raunaq and I had arrived in Zürich three weeks prior, and we weren’t having any luck finding an apartment. We viewed 10 apartments together in person, and applied for all of them. Didn’t get one. With our temporary housing about to run out, I went to the 11th apartment viewing. I went alone because the appointment was during the workday, and neither of us were feeling optimistic about this particular apartment - partially because of the string of rejections, but mainly because the apartment didn’t seem that great from the online posting. It was in a neighborhood called Wollishofen that seemed “too far” from the city center, it was in an older building, and the pictures were mainly of the exterior (which is never a good sign). But we were getting desperate at this point, so I went to take a look anyway. Needless to say, my expectations were low.
I met the landlord, squeezed into the impossibly tiny elevator, rode to the third floor, opened the front door. And, quite literally, walked into the light.
If you’ve ever been to our apartment, the first thing you’ll notice is the light. Something about the way the light reflects across the white-tiled foyer brightens up the entire space. It creates this calming, peaceful sensation the second you walk in the door.
It took me by surprise, that light. And then, when I saw that all that sunlight came from the five large lake-facing windows in the living room, I knew that this was it. This was the apartment.
I immediately texted Raunaq, and we applied on the spot.
Within an hour of our application, I got a call from the landlord with an offer and rental contract. Raunaq never even got to see the place before we signed. But when you know, you know, right? It was meant to be. We ordered 700 kilos worth of apartment furniture from IKEA, and at the end of July, moved into our very own Swiss apartment.
We were there for six years, the longest either of us has ever stayed in the same place. And in those six years, there was so much I came to love about our little 3.5 room flat.
I loved its charm, that it wasn’t a modern apartment with a boxy modular design, but instead filled with personality, with rounded archways, crown molding, and parquet floors. I loved that there were shelves in every room, a place to put all our knickknacks and tchotchkes and random Lego figurines. I loved that the bathroom was split, San Francisco-style, because it reminded me of home (and also because it made sharing a single bathroom with guests so much more bearable!). I loved all of my different reading and writing nooks, rearranging the furniture and creating a new space for myself every few years. I loved that we could see both the sunrise and the moonrise from the living room couch.
I loved that we called the low-ceiling storage cellar in our bedroom the “Hobbity Hole.” I loved the sunny mornings when our living room was flooded with warm orange light. I loved the huge tree outside our front window (and was devastated when we lost it during a massive blizzard, although I must admit our lake view improved tremendously). I loved that there was a working fireplace, even though we never used it because we put our TV there “just for the summer” and then never ended up moving it. I loved watching the sailing classes in the mornings, and the night ferries in the evening (that I called party ferries because of their neon lighting). I loved hearing the next-door neighbor come out every evening to call his outdoor cat, Wilson, to dinner (“Vilson! Vvviiiiilsonnnnnn!”).
I loved that it was perfectly positioned between Lake Zurich and Uetliberg, and while that location may not be responsible for my hiking obsession, it is certainly responsible for my lake life obsession. I loved walking to Landiweise and Saffa Insel, our own little island. I loved the neighborhood water fountain, built in 1906, where I would stop for a quick drink after late nights out. I loved that our local tramline was the 7, a tramline that is surprisingly connected to the rest of the city, and also one of the last to still use the old-fashioned cars (which yes, are very inconvenient for luggage and trolleys but still - the charm!). I loved that our local bus line was the 72, a bus with truly insane drivers that took us to our favorite spots in Kreis 4 and Kreis 5. I loved that Raunaq loved the neighborhood so much, he custom-made an “8038” hat to represent.
I loved that our 3rd floor neighbors became our friends, and that another set of friends moved to the neighborhood (to the same street, in fact!). I loved that when we lost the tree in front of the building, someone put a bouquet of flowers on the stump. I loved when I would run out onto the balcony to catch a vibrant sunset or rainbow, and see others on their balconies doing the same. I loved that we were able to host both sets of parents, my sisters, my 2-month old niece, and so many friends here (and am a little bit sad about those who never got the chance). I even loved all of the random sounds coming from upstairs, like the sound of a million marbles dropping on the floor, which would happen like clockwork every evening.
And most of all, I loved the feeling I got when I walked in the front door. That light never, ever got old.
Of course, there were lots of things I did not love about the apartment - we did ultimately decide to move, after all. The “charm” part of the charming older apartment began to fade, leaving space for the “old” bits to come into focus. Things started to break more often. The landlords drove me crazy. I became convinced that the upstairs neighbors were running an illegal laundry ring given how often they were using the shared machine. And eventually, we knew it was time for a change.
But this is my love letter, my goodbye. And when you say goodbye, you don’t remember the bad times. You remember the good. And there was so much good.
A few months after we moved in, I wrote one of my favorite blog posts of all time: The Surprising World of Swiss Apartment Life. It’s about all the curious quirks of Swiss apartment living, but moreover, about how where you live becomes more than just four walls. It captures a moment in time. And this apartment, like all my apartments did before it, is now a snapshot capturing six years of life.
When we moved here, I had no idea what our new Swiss life would look like. I had no idea I’d go back to school. I had no idea we’d quarantine here during a global pandemic. I had no idea that I would make friends that feel like family. I truly had no idea that mountains would become such a big part of our lives. I had no idea if we would even like it here. I had absolutely no idea that we would stay this long - not just in this apartment, but on this side of the world. I had no idea what we would experience, but we experienced it all here: in Switzerland, in Zürich, in Wollishofen, but most of all, on Bellariastrasse.
It’s a big chapter to close.
On the final day, I took a last walk through the empty apartment, marveling that it looked just as it did that first day, as though no time had passed at all. I laid my key next to the unused fireplace, and thought, “this was a good apartment.”
Goodbye, Bellariastrasse. You were a good apartment.
And now, a collection of some of my favorite apartment memories:
By December 2018, Raunaq and I agreed that we had made the critical mass of friends to host our very own Christmas party. Which, by the way, was not only the first holiday party we had hosted together, it was the first holiday party I’d ever hosted. It was a blast!
It was only months later, when I came home to a curious smell in our apartment. It smelled like - to put it nicely - someone had been farting up a storm. “What is that smell?!” I asked Raunaq, who was snacking on something. “Oh, it’s these Indian snacks,” he said. “You’ve had them, remember? You call them the ‘toots masala’ snacks.” Ah, yes. This snack in particular was dried lentils covered in chaat masala, a very delicious but very smelly spice blend. And then, it hit me: we definitely served these snacks at our party. And that means that our lovely Christmas party definitely reeked of flatulence the whole time. BAHHHHHH.
So, I’m taking the chance now to - pardon the pun - clear the air. If you are reading this and were an attendee at that Christmas party, and you remember it smelling slightly tooty…PLEASE KNOW THAT IT WASN’T US, IT WAS THE SNACKS!
The house across the street from us was a co-living space, and would often have lots of raging parties (that we never were invited to, rude). I happened to look out the window one night during one of these ragers, and saw this guy walk out the front door, pee in the bushes, and then walk right back in.
Ever since we discovered that absinthe originated in Switzerland (in Môtiers, to be exact), Raunaq has become a bit of an absinthe connoisseur. His favorite party trick is breaking out our special absinthe water carafe (which is topped with a green fairy, naturally), and making everyone a proper absinthe drink. One of the best times was when we had a few friends over for a low-key Sunday brunch, and it turned into an absinthe-fueled, Boiler Room dance party.
A pipe burst in the apartment above us, and our kitchen was flooded. It took a month to repair the damage, with our walls ripped open and a huge dehumidifier running day and night for weeks straight. But that’s not the story I want to remember.
The story I want to remember is the day the plumber came to assess the leak. The three of us were inside, discussing the repairs, when Kusi, the neighbor from upstairs, came down. Kusi had lots of cats, at least three, though honestly there could have been more. She had left her front door open, and while we were all inside talking in our foyer, one of her cats decided to make a run for it. The cat ran down the stairs and darted into our apartment in a black blur of fur. “Misty!” Kusi cried. She tried to catch Misty, but the cat was literally bouncing off the walls, running into all the rooms before barricading itself under the couch. Kusi then barricaded herself in our living room to try to trap the cat, all while yelling “Misty! Misty, no! Mistyyyyy!” The mental image of Kusi chasing her cat throughout the apartment while Raunaq, the plumber and I burst out laughing honestly made the whole water damage experience worth it (almost).
One Friday night, Raunaq locked me inside the apartment. He had already left, and I didn’t realize it until I was trying to leave to meet my friend. He was oddly flustered that evening, after his first day back to work from a 3-month sabbatical (the so-called ‘summer of Raunaq’). And so, he had locked the door from the outside while I was still home (mistake 1), and then accidentally taken both sets of keys with him (mistake 2). Needless to say, I was late for drinks. Don’t worry, he didn’t leave me there all night - he jumped in a cab and came home to release me. When I tell people this story, every person’s first response is always “What if there was a fire?!
For Raunaq’s 40th birthday, we had a big lakeside picnic party at Landiwiese. In classic Raunaq-and-Alex party fashion, we ordered 50 samosas from Aggarwal, the Indian grocery store in Kreis 4, and nothing else (planning drinks for parties is our specialty; food…not so much).
The thing about parties at the lake is that it is all fun and games until the sun sets, and then it is pitch black, which is a problem if you wait to pack everything up until then. I was, somehow, the most sober of our friends left standing at 11pm, and tried my very best to 1.) make sure nothing important was left behind in the darkness while simultaneously 2.) herd my very drunk friends back home. Not an easy feat, I tell you. The next morning, I went back to search for a set of keys left behind, only to find a trail of samosas leading, one by one, all the way back to the lake.
