How to Experience Opera's Most Interesting Festival From Afar
It's festival season, and perhaps the most interesting one is in Aix-en-Provence, France. At the Aix Festival, directors take risks on classics, and new works are unveiled in spots as old-fashioned as a Baroque theater and as unlikely as a monolithic stadium off the highway. Audience members come from around the world, often laid back in linens and sandals, expecting an operatic adventure worth traveling for.
This year's Aix Festival, which continues through July 21, has been somberly tinted by the death of its general director, Pierre Audi, in early May. He had commissioned two productions that premiered during the opening weekend: an intimate, charged reimagining of Britten's 'Billy Budd' by the director Ted Huffman and the composer Oliver Leith; and the world premiere of 'The Nine Jewelled Deer,' a long but frequently beautiful collaboration among the composer Sivan Eldar, the director Peter Sellars, the artist Julie Mehretu and the author Lauren Groff.
It's too soon to know whether those shows will travel and take root. But other festival productions already have plans to be broadcast and streamed online, or even to be revived at other opera houses. Below are ways to experience them for yourself. (Some media may be restricted in certain countries.)
'Don Giovanni'
The festival opened on July 4 with a new production of Mozart's 'Don Giovanni,' directed by Robert Icke in his opera debut and conducted by Simon Rattle, leading the lush Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. Icke is known for his intelligent, liberal adaptations of theater classics, and he was similarly bold, if sometimes overflowing with ideas, in taking on one of the most difficult operas in the canon.
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Following Euros travel tips from Switzerland and Arsenal midfielder Lia Walti
No one has been a better ambassador for the European Championship in Switzerland than Lia Walti. A key part of Arsenal's midfield for nearly a decade, Walti is even more crucial to the Swiss national team. She captains the side and is one of the only women to have started every game in a major tournament for Switzerland. She made her debut at 18 years old and helped the country to its first World Cup (2015) and Euros (2017) appearances. However, last year, the 32-year-old took on a new role as an unofficial travel agent. Before the Euros started, Walti created an Instagram account, called @lias_switzerland, in which she went through the highlights of her country, including a breakdown of all eight host cities. Eventually, her Arsenal and Swiss team-mates got involved. This summer, Switzerland made it out of the group stage before ultimately falling to Spain in the quarter-finals. Before Germany's performance in the semi-final, Switzerland had the best defensive performance against the World Cup winners, holding them scoreless until the 66th minute. Despite the exit, Switzerland will have plenty of positives to take away, from record crowds to the inevitable hosting bump that England and the Netherlands saw in 2022 and 2017 respectively. In the run-up to Sunday's final between England and Spain, The Athletic made it to all eight host cities, each with its own unique view. However, for the sake of brevity and leaving a reason to come back, we have narrowed our list to four cities to highlight. Forgive us, Walti, for leaving off the following. Sion and Thun were charming excursions during the group stage. Geneva was bustling with life, chocolate and water spouts, but much of that experience was watching England and Italy go down to the wire in the semi-finals. Basel, a city known for its art and the thrilling quarter-final between France and Germany (made all the more exciting due to its proximity to both countries), will host the final. Walti suggests a swim in the Rhine, though the weather might not be so kind. Still, the cobblestone streets and stadium built to capture all the noise will be a fitting send-off. Alongside our football coverage, our writers found a way to turn climbing mountains, visiting fairytale-like towns and swimming in pristine rivers into football coverage. As Euro 2025 comes to an end, here are four cities that left a lasting impression on our writers. Lucerne Matches: Wales vs Netherlands, Poland vs Sweden, Poland vs Denmark Like a robust Walti challenge in the first five minutes of a game, Lucerne's beauty lets you know it's there from the off. Lake Lucerne is waiting immediately as you exit the railway station, a sprawling body of shimmering turquoise. Like so much of the water in Switzerland, it's outrageously clear, blue and inviting, and you do wonder what the Swiss must think if they rock up to a UK beach, the harsh, grey English Channel glaring back at them. As per Walti's instructions, I take a stroll along the promenade. Nestled snugly on the edge of the lake is a fleet of pedalos. Walti has, after all, suggested a river cruise, and this would be a cruise, of sorts. I skim The Athletic's expenses policy, but a section regarding the hire of pedalos and other recreational human-powered watercraft is notably absent. Making a mental note to raise this with HR, I take the journey on foot instead. Most cities would be content with just a lake, but Lucerne goes above and beyond. The lake is set against the backdrop of the Rigi and Pilatus mountains, and is surrounded by buildings with turrets and spires, shuttered windows and red wooden beams — the sort of places I'd assumed only existed on Christmas cards. Lucerne's like your one mate who somehow always looks effortlessly good in photos, whatever the angle. Next on the agenda is the Museggmauer, and I walk there via the Kapellbrucke, which Walti has reliably informed us is 'the world's oldest surviving wooden bridge'. Dating back to the 14th century, the bridge arches are decorated with paintings depicting scenes from Swiss history — many of which have been restored following a fire in 1993. The lake is on one side, the Reuss river on the other. It's prime photo opportunity territory and it is bustling with visitors. The Museggmauer is Lucerne's medieval city wall and consists of 'nine towers you can actually climb'. With my legs feeling fresh following a lack of pedalo action, bring on the nine towers. A sign outside the first tower — Mannliturm — explains that you can only climb three of the towers right to the top, before adding ominously: 'Visit at your own risk.' Undeterred, I attack the first staircase with purpose, but the spring in my step has waned as the staircases just keep coming. One fellow tower enthusiast pauses on the descent to stretch her quadriceps muscle. A young child, no older than three or four, exclaims 'phew' after scaling one particularly steep, narrow set of stairs, shaking his head and wiping his brow with all the world-weariness of a man 50 years his senior. It's 125 stairs to the top, but when you reach the summit, your shortness of breath and that twinge in your thigh are instantly forgotten. It's an amazing view. I thought Lucerne was stunning on the ground, but from up here, it's quite frankly showing off. I meander back along the city walls and around the lake — taking one last, lingering look at the pedalos — before heading for the train home. Ali Rampling St. Gallen Matches: Germany vs Poland, France vs Wales, England vs Wales I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest Walti did not make her hiking recommendations for St. Gallen with the idea of it being barely 10C (50F) and raining. But here I am, at the top of a mountain, waving at some non-plussed cows and wondering how to warm up my toes as they cold-plunge in my boots. 'Chill in Drei Weieren (the scenic ponds above the city) or take in a panoramic view with a hike up to Freudenberg.' These were Walti's challenges I accepted on a Tuesday morning ahead of the Group D match between France and Wales, armed with a peanut butter Cliff bar and then-dry socks. I'm lactose intolerant and (an attempted) vegan, meaning Walti's recommendations for bratwurst were a no. While I can't speak for a sunny day, a grey and rainy one still does this hike to the top more than enough justice. I meander out of the old town's cobblestones and climb flights of wooden stairs, whose tops disappear into thick fog. The effect is Led Zeppelin (Gen Z, Google this). Upon reaching the top, there is St. Gallen below, a compact Christmas town to pack up and build under the tree in December. At the top, there is a pond with lily pads, the rain parachuting down atop their pink flowers. Beside it, a makeshift pool with diving boards, designated lanes, and bleachers for a swim competition. At this point, I'm pretty rain-drenched, so I figure chilling in that water is overkill. But my iPhone weather app (rookie error) tells me the rain is clearing up, so I decide to move into the forest and scale the seeder paths to the top to see the fuss about Freudenberg. The miles-high pine trees offer some reprieve from the drumming rain. I should mention at this point, I'm clearly the only human dumb enough to make this journey in these conditions. Companions consist of one scampering squirrel and a few flitting birds the size of my fist. As the rain continues and fog begins to roll through the branches, the woods feel enchantingly brooding. I have a theory that green looks better against grey, its effervescence more stated. In St. Gallen, I feel I have enough evidence to christen my theory factual. Eventually, my climb leaves me staring at the treetops I once craned my neck upwards to consider. The rain is belting it, little rivers sluicing through my trails. I wish I had more photographic evidence, but I opted against waterboarding my only form of communication in case of emergency. To make a long story short, there are non-plussed cows at the top of St. Gallen, and the view is enrapturing, even in the cascading rain. As far as the Abbey library, another of Walti's recommendations while in St. Gallen, goes: stunning and, more importantly, dry. 10/10. The Abbey is not really a library but a literary oasis. Apparently, it's won 1,000 library awards. If you want to pretend you've traded yourself into the town's local monster to secure your dad's safety and then sing to some talking humans-turned-pieces-of-furniture, this is arguably as close as you're going to get. Everything is gilded. There is a globe the size of my bathroom back home. It is prettier than everything I have ever and will ever own. The rest of St. Gallen is charming. Quaint and intimate streets melt into each other before rising high into old, quintessentially Swiss buildings. To walk through the old town is to walk through not just history, but peace. It is difficult to imagine feeling stressed about a water bill here. Megan Feringa Zurich Matches: France vs England, England vs Netherlands, Sweden vs Germany, Sweden vs England, Germany vs Spain 'What you can do today, do tomorrow. Go for a swim, have a drink,' read a sign in the industrial quarter, to the north-west of Zurich's city centre. Mission accepted. I jump into the deep, greeny-blue water of the Limmat river. Its temperature is not the freezing kind that takes your breath away, but a cool tonic to the blazing heat. Watch out for rogue bits of foliage, and after rainfall, the current is strong, making swimming upstream a real workout. When you go with the flow, however, you feel like superwoman propelled by the river's force. Indeed, some Swiss residents use the current to commute to work. Using a waterproof bag as a pillow, they float down on their backs, passing by other locals who are reading, sunbathing, doing yoga or playing volleyball on the adjacent river banks. It's a very outdoorsy, chilled vibe. Lifeguards are on hand and the river is closed to swimmers when the current is deemed too dangerous. I can't quite erase the image of taking a breath to the side as I front crawl, putting my head down and seeing a floating whitish grey blob with a long tail inches away from me. Walti failed to mention the prospect of encountering a dead rat in the river, but I suppose that's the beauty of swimming in the wild. I was in Zurich for much of the tournament because it was closest to England's base, and that encounter with the rat did not deter me from returning every day. Overall, a top recommendation and a tournament game-changer. Replenish your energy stores in one of the bars and cafes lining the river. Keep walking and you pass through Altstadt (Zurich's old town). The bells of the majestic churches Fraumunster (Women's Minster) and Grossmunster (Great Minster), located on either side of the river, ring out while small motor boats covered with beige and blue jackets bob up and down on the water. There's a charming miniature bronze model of the old town, which gives you a sense of the city's scale. Walk up the wide, cobbled streets to Linderhof gardens, where locals play on gigantic chess boards and the view below captures the old town and river leading to Lake Zurich, another haven for swimmers. Charlotte Harpur Bern Matches: Spain vs Portugal, Switzerland vs Iceland, Italy vs Spain, Spain vs Switzerland I owe Bern an apology. For some reason (not worth me beginning to justify now I've realised I'm wrong), I always imagined Bern to be a boring, businesslike capital city, a la Brussels, and thought the main Swiss attractions were to be found elsewhere in the country. But no! Bern is one of the most striking, elegant capital cities imaginable. Especially in the sunshine and with Italy and Spain fans bringing extra colour ahead of their Group B finale, all blues and reds, to the city centre. On a day like this, you simply don't want to be inside. So forgive me for ignoring Walti's tip of Einstein Haus and the Einstein Museum, which I'm sure are wonderful, but I walk past. I'm largely committing to Walti's first tip: 'Strolling through the arcaded Old Town — 6km of covered walkways and medieval charm.' This is my natural approach to a new city, just wandering around, and I've clocked up 8.4km by the time I head towards the stadium so I'm confident I've completed a good proportion of those 6km. The old town is magnificent, full of grand buildings, elegant shops, and restaurants that feel calmer than their equivalents in, say, Florence or Munich. There's minimal traffic. It is almost encircled by a meander of the Aare river, making it feel like an island city. The river, like many in Switzerland, is impossibly blue because of the glacial flour in the water coming down from the Alps. Having swam in the river back in Zurich on several days so far, I don't feel much desire to 'swim in the Aare river — or float with the current like a local', although I deeply admire the locals' faith in the waterproof bags that they throw their wallet, phone and sunglasses into, before sweeping around the bends, swimming more to stay afloat than to actually propel themselves. Strolling up the Kramgasse, one of the main streets in the old town, I reach another of Walti's recommendations almost accidentally. 'Visit the famous Zytglogge (clock tower) and watch the figures dance on the hour.' I arrived at 2:53pm. This was quite promising; cometh the hour, cometh the men. I'm sorry to say that it was somewhat underwhelming and 200 or so fellow tourists assembled to take videos, then looked around at each other, wondering if that was it. But, peeling back towards the river, I come across a scene that sums up this tournament: an Italy supporter and a Spain supporter, sitting on some stone steps in the shade, having a beer together, and just admiring the view. Michael Cox This article originally appeared in The Athletic. Arsenal, International Football, Women's Soccer, Culture, Women's Euros 2025 The Athletic Media Company
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Fans Think Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce Are Engaged Thanks to Zooming in on a Very Specific Photo
Kay, so you know how you were minding your business yesterday afternoon and then your phone exploded thanks to Travis Kelce casually posting never-before-seen photos of his and Taylor Swift's romantic summer? Honestly there's a lot to unpack here, but fans were quick to notice that both Travis and Taylor accidentally revealed their phone lock screens. Here's Taylor's, which sleuthing tells us is potentially a photo from their trip to Italy (Trav was wearing the same checkered sweater in pap pics taken of them on a boat): And here's Travis', a much easier-to-see pic of him and Taylor—featuring Taylor holding up her hands. And naturally fans are convinced that she's showing off an engagement ring: I mean, listen. Is it possible? Yes. But there's also speculation that Taylor could be wearing Travis' super bowl rings in the photo, which would also make (probably more) sense. Either way Travis and Taylor have been dealing with engagement rumors pretty much since they got together. Back in May, a source told The Daily Mail, "Everyone is just waiting for Travis to ask her parents for her hand in marriage, her parents will say yes, and they can't wait for them to get engaged. Nothing seems to be imminent, but it will 100 percent happen. Taylor and Travis are treating this relationship as their last relationship, and when they get engaged, when they get married and when they start a family, it will be exactly when it is meant to happen." You Might Also Like Here's What NOT to Wear to a Wedding Meet the Laziest, Easiest Acne Routine You'll Ever Try Solve the daily Crossword
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Following Euros travel tips from Switzerland and Arsenal midfielder Lia Walti
No one has been a better ambassador for the European Championship in Switzerland than Lia Walti. A key part of Arsenal's midfield for nearly a decade, Walti is even more crucial to the Swiss national team. She captains the side and is one of the only women to have started every game in a major tournament for Switzerland. She made her debut at 18 years old and helped the country to its first World Cup (2015) and Euros (2017) appearances. Advertisement However, last year, the 32-year-old took on a new role as an unofficial travel agent. Before the Euros started, Walti created an Instagram account, called @lias_switzerland, in which she went through the highlights of her country, including a breakdown of all eight host cities. Eventually, her Arsenal and Swiss team-mates got involved. This summer, Switzerland made it out of the group stage before ultimately falling to Spain in the quarter-finals. Before Germany's performance in the semi-final, Switzerland had the best defensive performance against the World Cup winners, holding them scoreless until the 66th minute. Despite the exit, Switzerland will have plenty of positives to take away, from record crowds to the inevitable hosting bump that England and the Netherlands saw in 2022 and 2017 respectively. A post shared by Lia Wälti (@liawaelti) In the run-up to Sunday's final between England and Spain, The Athletic made it to all eight host cities, each with its own unique view. However, for the sake of brevity and leaving a reason to come back, we have narrowed our list to four cities to highlight. Forgive us, Walti, for leaving off the following. Sion and Thun were charming excursions during the group stage. Geneva was bustling with life, chocolate and water spouts, but much of that experience was watching England and Italy go down to the wire in the semi-finals. Basel, a city known for its art and the thrilling quarter-final between France and Germany (made all the more exciting due to its proximity to both countries), will host the final. Walti suggests a swim in the Rhine, though the weather might not be so kind. Still, the cobblestone streets and stadium built to capture all the noise will be a fitting send-off. Alongside our football coverage, our writers found a way to turn climbing mountains, visiting fairytale-like towns and swimming in pristine rivers into football coverage. As Euro 2025 comes to an end, here are four cities that left a lasting impression on our writers. Matches: Wales vs Netherlands, Poland vs Sweden, Poland vs Denmark Like a robust Walti challenge in the first five minutes of a game, Lucerne's beauty lets you know it's there from the off. Lake Lucerne is waiting immediately as you exit the railway station, a sprawling body of shimmering turquoise. Like so much of the water in Switzerland, it's outrageously clear, blue and inviting, and you do wonder what the Swiss must think if they rock up to a UK beach, the harsh, grey English Channel glaring back at them. Advertisement As per Walti's instructions, I take a stroll along the promenade. Nestled snugly on the edge of the lake is a fleet of pedalos. Walti has, after all, suggested a river cruise, and this would be a cruise, of sorts. I skim The Athletic's expenses policy, but a section regarding the hire of pedalos and other recreational human-powered watercraft is notably absent. Making a mental note to raise this with HR, I take the journey on foot instead. Most cities would be content with just a lake, but Lucerne goes above and beyond. The lake is set against the backdrop of the Rigi and Pilatus mountains, and is surrounded by buildings with turrets and spires, shuttered windows and red wooden beams — the sort of places I'd assumed only existed on Christmas cards. Lucerne's like your one mate who somehow always looks effortlessly good in photos, whatever the angle. Next on the agenda is the Museggmauer, and I walk there via the Kapellbrucke, which Walti has reliably informed us is 'the world's oldest surviving wooden bridge'. Dating back to the 14th century, the bridge arches are decorated with paintings depicting scenes from Swiss history — many of which have been restored following a fire in 1993. The lake is on one side, the Reuss river on the other. It's prime photo opportunity territory and it is bustling with visitors. The Museggmauer is Lucerne's medieval city wall and consists of 'nine towers you can actually climb'. With my legs feeling fresh following a lack of pedalo action, bring on the nine towers. A sign outside the first tower — Mannliturm — explains that you can only climb three of the towers right to the top, before adding ominously: 'Visit at your own risk.' Undeterred, I attack the first staircase with purpose, but the spring in my step has waned as the staircases just keep coming. One fellow tower enthusiast pauses on the descent to stretch her quadriceps muscle. A young child, no older than three or four, exclaims 'phew' after scaling one particularly steep, narrow set of stairs, shaking his head and wiping his brow with all the world-weariness of a man 50 years his senior. Advertisement It's 125 stairs to the top, but when you reach the summit, your shortness of breath and that twinge in your thigh are instantly forgotten. It's an amazing view. I thought Lucerne was stunning on the ground, but from up here, it's quite frankly showing off. I meander back along the city walls and around the lake — taking one last, lingering look at the pedalos — before heading for the train home. Ali Rampling Matches: Germany vs Poland, France vs Wales, England vs Wales I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest Walti did not make her hiking recommendations for St. Gallen with the idea of it being barely 10C (50F) and raining. But here I am, at the top of a mountain, waving at some non-plussed cows and wondering how to warm up my toes as they cold-plunge in my boots. 'Chill in Drei Weieren (the scenic ponds above the city) or take in a panoramic view with a hike up to Freudenberg.' These were Walti's challenges I accepted on a Tuesday morning ahead of the Group D match between France and Wales, armed with a peanut butter Cliff bar and then-dry socks. I'm lactose intolerant and (an attempted) vegan, meaning Walti's recommendations for bratwurst were a no. While I can't speak for a sunny day, a grey and rainy one still does this hike to the top more than enough justice. I meander out of the old town's cobblestones and climb flights of wooden stairs, whose tops disappear into thick fog. The effect is Led Zeppelin (Gen Z, Google this). Upon reaching the top, there is St. Gallen below, a compact Christmas town to pack up and build under the tree in December. At the top, there is a pond with lily pads, the rain parachuting down atop their pink flowers. Beside it, a makeshift pool with diving boards, designated lanes, and bleachers for a swim competition. At this point, I'm pretty rain-drenched, so I figure chilling in that water is overkill. But my iPhone weather app (rookie error) tells me the rain is clearing up, so I decide to move into the forest and scale the seeder paths to the top to see the fuss about Freudenberg. The miles-high pine trees offer some reprieve from the drumming rain. I should mention at this point, I'm clearly the only human dumb enough to make this journey in these conditions. Advertisement Companions consist of one scampering squirrel and a few flitting birds the size of my fist. As the rain continues and fog begins to roll through the branches, the woods feel enchantingly brooding. I have a theory that green looks better against grey, its effervescence more stated. In St. Gallen, I feel I have enough evidence to christen my theory factual. Eventually, my climb leaves me staring at the treetops I once craned my neck upwards to consider. The rain is belting it, little rivers sluicing through my trails. I wish I had more photographic evidence, but I opted against waterboarding my only form of communication in case of emergency. To make a long story short, there are non-plussed cows at the top of St. Gallen, and the view is enrapturing, even in the cascading rain. As far as the Abbey library, another of Walti's recommendations while in St. Gallen, goes: stunning and, more importantly, dry. 10/10. The Abbey is not really a library but a literary oasis. Apparently, it's won 1,000 library awards. If you want to pretend you've traded yourself into the town's local monster to secure your dad's safety and then sing to some talking humans-turned-pieces-of-furniture, this is arguably as close as you're going to get. Everything is gilded. There is a globe the size of my bathroom back home. It is prettier than everything I have ever and will ever own. The rest of St. Gallen is charming. Quaint and intimate streets melt into each other before rising high into old, quintessentially Swiss buildings. To walk through the old town is to walk through not just history, but peace. It is difficult to imagine feeling stressed about a water bill here. Megan Feringa Matches: France vs England, England vs Netherlands, Sweden vs Germany, Sweden vs England, Germany vs Spain 'What you can do today, do tomorrow. Go for a swim, have a drink,' read a sign in the industrial quarter, to the north-west of Zurich's city centre. Mission accepted. I jump into the deep, greeny-blue water of the Limmat river. Its temperature is not the freezing kind that takes your breath away, but a cool tonic to the blazing heat. Watch out for rogue bits of foliage, and after rainfall, the current is strong, making swimming upstream a real workout. When you go with the flow, however, you feel like superwoman propelled by the river's force. Advertisement Indeed, some Swiss residents use the current to commute to work. Using a waterproof bag as a pillow, they float down on their backs, passing by other locals who are reading, sunbathing, doing yoga or playing volleyball on the adjacent river banks. It's a very outdoorsy, chilled vibe. Lifeguards are on hand and the river is closed to swimmers when the current is deemed too dangerous. I can't quite erase the image of taking a breath to the side as I front crawl, putting my head down and seeing a floating whitish grey blob with a long tail inches away from me. Walti failed to mention the prospect of encountering a dead rat in the river, but I suppose that's the beauty of swimming in the wild. I was in Zurich for much of the tournament because it was closest to England's base, and that encounter with the rat did not deter me from returning every day. Overall, a top recommendation and a tournament game-changer. Replenish your energy stores in one of the bars and cafes lining the river. Keep walking and you pass through Altstadt (Zurich's old town). The bells of the majestic churches Fraumunster (Women's Minster) and Grossmunster (Great Minster), located on either side of the river, ring out while small motor boats covered with beige and blue jackets bob up and down on the water. There's a charming miniature bronze model of the old town, which gives you a sense of the city's scale. Walk up the wide, cobbled streets to Linderhof gardens, where locals play on gigantic chess boards and the view below captures the old town and river leading to Lake Zurich, another haven for swimmers. Charlotte Harpur Matches: Spain vs Portugal, Switzerland vs Iceland, Italy vs Spain, Spain vs Switzerland I owe Bern an apology. For some reason (not worth me beginning to justify now I've realised I'm wrong), I always imagined Bern to be a boring, businesslike capital city, a la Brussels, and thought the main Swiss attractions were to be found elsewhere in the country. But no! Bern is one of the most striking, elegant capital cities imaginable. Especially in the sunshine and with Italy and Spain fans bringing extra colour ahead of their Group B finale, all blues and reds, to the city centre. Advertisement On a day like this, you simply don't want to be inside. So forgive me for ignoring Walti's tip of Einstein Haus and the Einstein Museum, which I'm sure are wonderful, but I walk past. I'm largely committing to Walti's first tip: 'Strolling through the arcaded Old Town — 6km of covered walkways and medieval charm.' This is my natural approach to a new city, just wandering around, and I've clocked up 8.4km by the time I head towards the stadium so I'm confident I've completed a good proportion of those 6km. The old town is magnificent, full of grand buildings, elegant shops, and restaurants that feel calmer than their equivalents in, say, Florence or Munich. There's minimal traffic. It is almost encircled by a meander of the Aare river, making it feel like an island city. The river, like many in Switzerland, is impossibly blue because of the glacial flour in the water coming down from the Alps. Having swam in the river back in Zurich on several days so far, I don't feel much desire to 'swim in the Aare river — or float with the current like a local', although I deeply admire the locals' faith in the waterproof bags that they throw their wallet, phone and sunglasses into, before sweeping around the bends, swimming more to stay afloat than to actually propel themselves. Strolling up the Kramgasse, one of the main streets in the old town, I reach another of Walti's recommendations almost accidentally. 'Visit the famous Zytglogge (clock tower) and watch the figures dance on the hour.' I arrived at 2:53pm. This was quite promising; cometh the hour, cometh the men. I'm sorry to say that it was somewhat underwhelming and 200 or so fellow tourists assembled to take videos, then looked around at each other, wondering if that was it. But, peeling back towards the river, I come across a scene that sums up this tournament: an Italy supporter and a Spain supporter, sitting on some stone steps in the shade, having a beer together, and just admiring the view. Michael Cox
