Our hotel turns out to be on a hillside overlooking the lake, with a long sloping lawn leading down to a venerable residential area. We feel a little over our heads in the Hotel Zurichberg, which Debbie’s hosts are treating us to. The room comes with a kind of catalogue of the designers who produced the furniture. For instance, I am apparently seated on a “Charles Sofa” by Atnonio Citterio, half watching General Petreas defending the indefensible on my BEO Vision 6 while enjoying complimnewntary fruit set out on my Atlas Table from Jasper Morrison. The desk, incidentally, is finished with linen lacquer by Italian reformed drug addicts from the Fondazione San Patrignano. We are still trying to figure out how to operate the lamps. The whole place makes us feel lumpy.