Creative welding courses for beginners

Iris read the voucher text three times, as if the word might still transform into "brunch" or "yoga class" – but it remained "welding class." She knew Markus had put a lot of thought into this gift, and somehow it was great: powerful, unusual. Welding! How often had she peered through her grandfather's workshop window as a child? That fascinating light and the idea of shaping something of her own out of metal with her hands – if it weren't for those sparks. And the electricity… nothing she'd ever felt comfortable with. Now she's standing there: fashionable protective overalls, protective gloves, and a welding helmet. Markus' promise to accompany her to Zuchwil and her curiosity to get to the bottom of the magic of welding ultimately prevailed. It's Iris's turn. The first weld. She takes the welding torch, her hands tremble – hopefully no one will notice – takes a deep breath, puts on her mask, and off she goes. The first arc, the first weld seam – everything is bright, loud, insistent, a pool of weld... The second attempt – calmer. On the third: a slight smile under the welding helmet. She's no longer trembling. The fear subsides, and a sense of comforting joy and pride spreads. Markus – meanwhile, on a private city tour through Solothurn's thickly foggy old town. In the crypt beneath the baroque St. Ursen Cathedral, he learns the secret of Solothurn's number from legendary city guide Marie-Claire Egger: "Eleven churches, eleven towers, eleven fountains, eleven staircases – simply a whim of the city's architects?" "Not quite," whispers Mrs. Egger softly. "There's a story," Marie-Claire tells us with a little more emphasis: "Viktor, the youngest son of the then tenant of the Hotel-Restaurant Baseltor, was also involved in the construction of the cathedral – a hard-working craftsman who, on November 11, 1785, was still working late into the night in the crypt beneath the cathedral, finishing the underground support pillars. The next day, he didn't show up for work as usual, and no one saw him the next day either. No trace of him was ever found again – but on one of the pillars, they found carved: 'E L F'. Nothing more..." Mrs. Egger points to a beam between two stones – a few fine notches. Coincidence. Sure. But it really does look like a carved E. Maybe an L next to it. Or... He takes a few steps back when he feels a slight sway and a cracking sound from the darkness. Not an echo – more like... as if someone had just shifted their foot. But there's no one there. Only the small, old lantern, which suddenly flickers briefly. "And you know," Marie-Claire says suddenly, "our cathedral bells never ring twelve times. Always eleven. As if the city wanted to remind us: perfection is not the goal. Only the in-between is real." Later, over a shared aperitif in the Dock, they have a lot to tell each other – including during dinner in the Salzhaus. And last but not least, over a nightcap at the 'Türk', an anecdote from Iris's welding experience comes up every now and then – for example, why welding helps. Or from Markus, a new quirk about where the Solothurn number 11 can also be found. When Markus opens the door to his hotel room at the Roter Ochsen, the cathedral bells are striking eleven o'clock. He looks at his watch, puzzled...