Neuchatel Night-Life

The street of Neuchatel after hours, with the lab crew
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The only problem with business travel is the business.

This week has been utterly enlightening in many ways: business, travel, and culture have all been challenging.  However, work is work, and we have had little time to ourselves. That's all right and proper.  That's what we are here to do.  But it is all the more exhillirating, then, to get invited by all the coworkers to head out into Neuchatel for a Friday night aftera trying day of work.

The Neuchatelois approach Spaniard stamina in their dancing, but seem to prefer to keep it under wraps...

Highlanders Pub... distinctly un-Swiss, but distinctly crowded, with a distinct amount of dancing.
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My roomate, John, rightly put it that Neuchatel has no nightlife.  And until Friday, we absolutely agreed.  The problem seems to me to be the language barrier.  There is no real hoppin' backpacker scene, and combined Neuchatel's pride in being the pride of the Swiss Romande (read: only French speaking), there is no obvious place to hang out in the evenings.

Our coworkers proved us wrong.

As I have mentioned earlier, Jason and I happen to be working in a lab with 15 women (and only us two guys).  This has been pointed out by everyone, including the managers and the girls themselves.  The downside, of course, is that most of the girls are taken, married, have children ect.

Paradox nightclub with Caroline, Delphine, Jason, and myself
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But no matter, because when we walked into the first pub Friday night, there was three guys (one of the boyfriends accompanied) and a gaggle of women.  We were definitely the cool guys.  We could feel the envy palpably in the pub.

The first pub was quaint and allowed us to have a terrible attempt at conversation in every language the continent has to offer.  Between everyone, we are able to communicate, whether in woeful Spanish, aweful French, or elementary English (even some decent Italian), and we seem to make it work.  We end up with headaches, but for anyone who has seen the film L'Auberge Espagnol, that makes it all the more fun.

Jason, Chris, and Delphine at Paradox
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We moved on to a hyper-cool cafe-bar, where we got into a discussion on world-pop music and met up with crazier fellows who were trying to teach us racial epithets in French (to the horror of the girls, and rightfully so).

French Fight

On the way to the third pub, one of the Swiss guys got into a rather nasty confrontation with a drunk passer-by.  It came to shoves, and almost to fists, and Jason attempted to break it apart.  Sadly, our accent can only make it worse (nobody wants Americans interfering), so we stepped aside to let it resolve and promised not to speak if we ever tried to break up a fight again.

No one got hurt, and eventually the drunk fellow left.  We ended up seeing them again at the next pub, but, as is so like a long night out, the two guys became friends.

We spent several hours at another pub (until about 2) dancing and moved on to a small, trendy dance club behind a heavy iron door until 4:15am, which puts the Swiss almost in Spaniard territory.

In the last disco, I made the controversial move of engaging in a pull with a coworker.  Weeks later, I would still be debating how solid a tactical decision that was, but at the time, it seemed like a spectacular idea.  The ramifications wouldn't be fully known until Monday afternoon, however.

Regardless, and unsurprisingly, we woke up way too late on Saturday and were quite late to do some day travelling.  Oh well, acceptance, they say, is the most rewarding of travel experiences, and we got that up to the ears on Friday.  Well worth it.