Maybe it was the fact that we had just crossed a tri-nation border, which includes Germany, France and Switzerland.

It was my first time in Basel and I came there on a bus with about 30 students and a couple of teachers from the Art Academy in Amsterdam. After crossing through the border, which in Europe is still a checked border, we arrived at night and made our way up and down the winding old roads to the hostel, which was nestled down by the river, next to an old church that was lit up in a grand fashion. After a bit of confusion on the check-in, we, naturally, dropped our things in the room, posse’d up and quickly got lost following a small path behind the church in search of the city.

I’m not sure why exactly, but when we finally climbed up a small incline and came to a high bridge overlooking the Rhine, I began to imagine what is must have been like in Basel during the second world war. Maybe it was the fact that we had just crossed a tri-nation border, which includes Germany, France and Switzerland. But it didn’t seem to far off to think that it must have felt good, or at least safe, to be on the Swiss side. I mean, what was it like back in those times? Did one just go about their business on a daily basis, having a cup of coffee or even just walking the dog, while hearing the faint sound of heavy artillery off in the not too far away distance? Did one pick a side or just pray that whoever was winning, just kept their armies a safe distance down that river? Must have been a strange time, indeed.