Solothurn, like Bern, is both a city and a canton. I was in the city of Solothurn a few weeks ago and snapped some pictures of town and church life.
Today I will show you--per the fairly obvious title--church life.
The old city of Solothurn is really storybook picturesque; it is guarded on all sides by fortress walls and there is a river that, once upon a time, acted as a further defense. The bridge that you must cross over the river to reach the city maybe used to be guarded by fearsome trolls or helmeted soldiers, but now there's just a couple of hippies with flowing skirts and dirty hair asking you to sign petitions. If you make it past them, the town is your oyster.
When you first leave the train station and are making your way towards the old city of Solothurn it would be impossible to get lost because this is the view that raises itself on the horizon, guiding you to the centre.
In case the architecture isn't giving it away, Solothurn is a Catholic canton.
That means that get more statutory holidays every year than the more moderate Protestant Bern.
For some reason though, I did not go into the churches. I'm only realizing this now, and I can't figure out why I didn't go inside? Why did the thought never occur to me? Was it the heat, frying my brain? Was it because I was so hungry, I only cared to sit on the stone steps and chow down on my chicken sandwich? Or was it because, in the sage words of my sister Meg, "You've seen one church you've seen them all. Now, where's an H&M?"
I suppose I'll never know.
(Though I can recommend on good authority that the Solothurn H&M doesn't have nearly as many change room dusty bunnies snacking on your toes as the one in Bern does.)