So Long, Farewell

We really did have to leave Switzerland. Although on our drive out of the country, we discussed ways to get our daughter Swiss citizenship. For instance, as soon as I go into labor, if we head for the border (we already have the road sticker, so we wouldn't even have to stop), and I give birth in Switzerland, would that do it? What exactly are the rules on that sort of thing. I don't know that a whole lot of Western Europeans are running for the Swiss border to have children, so perhaps there are no rules governing this concept. I suppose we should just stick to our original plan of going to the hospital on base. But I'm not giving up the dream of a Swiss chalet. We could spend winters on a sailboat in the Caribbean and summers in a log cabin Switzerland. Ah, the dreams of the childless. About six more weeks until reality comes home to roost.

Lucerne's Chapel Bridge, Europe's oldest wooden, covered bridge.

Leaving Grindelwald Valley, we put Lugano into the GPS (our intended lunch stop) and headed out, driving through more gorgeous vistas. At one point, we passed a suspicious road sign that listed about six different mountain passes and their status (open or closed). We were going too fast for me to read the whole thing, but I noticed only two passes were closed. Surely out of six available ones, we were on the road to an open one. Right? We drove up, up, up, waterfalls everywhere, past the snow line, and in multiple places, past road barriers that were lifted up. Good news. Until we were almost to the actual pass. And the road barrier was down. We'd been driving up this particular mountain pass road for 45 minutes. Thankfully, the views were so gorgeous that doing the same trip in reverse was not a huge hardship. And it meant we got to see Lucerne. Checking our map and considering we didn't make note of which passes were open and which were closed, the best route seemed to be for us to stick to the main freeway all the way up to Lucerne for lunch, then come down the freeway into Italy. But by the time we reached Lucerne, we were tired of being in the car...and not only were we not out of Switzerland, we were two hours out of our way in the wrong direction! We took the Lucerne picture (truly, a gorgeous city), ate lunch, and got back on the road to Verona, where we'd planned to stop for the night. Verona of Romeo and Juliet fame. Unfortunately, Verona was about 30-40 minutes out of our way, and in hindsight, we wished we were just making for home. But we had hotel reservations that could not be cancelled and the thought of driving well into the night vs a nice dinner and hotel stay meant Verona won out.

We pulled into our hotel just before dark and heard the most unearthly screeching. Just horrid. And loud. Then a peacock walked around the corner. That made the screeching almost bearable. I've never stayed at a hotel with a pet peacock. I must have taken as many pictures of it as I did the Alps. I was even able to forgive it's shrieking when it began at 6am the following morning, mainly because it's peahen was out and about, so the peacock walked around for an hour with all his feathers displayed. Giving me a good photo op was worth the shrieking wake up call.

As far as Verona goes, it's a very nice, pretty city. There is a large amphitheater, and the night we were there, some sort of pop concert was taking place inside it. We walked around the pedestrian zone, took a picture of the wall of love letters at Juliet's house (from the one in the movie "Letters to Juliet" - if you saw the movie, both the wall and the letter answering club are real), and found one of the prettiest piazzas in all of Italy (Piazza d'Erbe). We were just really ready to be at home, so I'm afraid we did not enjoy Verona as much as I'd hoped...and we were both sad to no longer be in Switzerland. And a shrieking peacock woke us up at dawn.

Did you know peacocks could fly?
I didn't, but I saw it with my own eyes.

Cow Field Blunders

Last full day. Big sigh. I did NOT want to leave Switzerland. Nathan, however, awoke with a terrible migraine. Our wonderful hotel hosts sent me up from breakfast with a tea tray for him once he awoke. The day was predicted to be sunny in the morning and storms moving in by afternoon. Since any light or movement hurt Nathan's head even more, I elected to go on a morning walk alone to give him time to recover. So far, we'd spent all our time over in the Lauterbrunnen Valley, but Grindelwald Valley, our base, had some pleasures of it's own. From our hotel, I could walk to a cable car that went only a short way up the mountain, and from there, our hotel host had informed me of a nice walk down to town. I headed off for the cable car station, finding views of a stunning glacier along the way (didn't even know we could see a glacier right from town). At the top of the cable car lift I found the two trails down to town, one quite steep and straight down, the other an obviously more meandering route. One problem. The gentler trail immediately began in a cow field...a cow field containing several large and vocal cows. I tentatively began walking along the path, but then the cows turned and seemed interested in me. So I ran (walked very fast) to a little fence built as an overlook to the luge that was also accessible from the cable car stop (I so wanted to ride that luge!). One particular cow came up to the fence I was behind, whereupon I realized the top of the fence I was using as my protective barrier reached only to her knees. The fence came to my chest, however, so I was at a distinct size disadvantage. At this point, all the cows had moved right into the path I was to walk down, so I walked back up to the cable car stop, intending to find someone I could ask about this path. The cable car attendant assured me that this path was indeed the correct one. Now I know in my head that cows do not attack. We lived on a dairy farm for a year and walked through the cow field numerous times - and I never got over the fear. They are just such massive animals, and I just think, "One bump and I'm down and trampled."

Now Nathan and I had spent the last two weeks quizzing a doctor friend of ours about various activities I could or could not do on vacation. "Can I go on a waterslide? Can I go white water rafting? Can I go horseback riding?" And so on. He continued to patiently tell us, over and over, "What we want to avoid is trauma to the abdomen." (Funny aside: Our first morning eating breakfast, our hotel host, who had already quizzed us on my due date, girl or boy, etc., suggested one particular valley where we could go base jumping. Base jumping! He walked away, and Nathan and I cracked up, saying, well, base jumping was not something we even thought to specify on our list of do and don't questions). So now, here I am in the Alps, alone in a cow field with extremely healthy cows who seem to want to approach me. This seems like a recipe for trauma to the abdomen. I didn't know whether to wish for other hikers to weather this field with me or to be thankful no one was around to see me walking along and muttering over and over, "What we want to avoid is trauma to the abdomen. If a cow bumps me, does that count? That seems like it could cause trauma, and what we want to avoid is trauma to the abdomen." I had been able to see the gate for the end of the cow field from my perch behind the "protective" fence, so I knew the path was short, or shortish. I just walked quickly and prepared my alternate route in the event the cows really began to approach me. I would know when they were coming up from behind since the cows really do wear bells. We bought one to put on Scully, but it scares him.

There are plenty of "Sound of Music" moments

Following my successful journey through the cow field, I breathed a big sigh of relief and continued on my pretty, little walk overlooking the gorgeous, green valley below. Until about 45 minutes later when I came to yet another cow field. This one had an electric fence that went ACROSS the trail. Just one fence line, so not a large fence, but in order to continue down to the valley, I would have to lay down on the ground and crawl under the electrified line, and then I would be in another darn cow field. This walking path was quickly losing it's appeal. I stood there for awhile, staring at the one, tiny little fence line, and began muttering to myself again. My alternative was to return to the cable car station, a steep walk uphill, and I'd still have to go through more cows. Crawl I did. Under the line, then, rather than staying on the path, I edged the fence line as far away from the cows as possible, made it to the other side of the pasture, and thankfully found only a similar, one line fence rather than a more insurmountable barrier. At this point, I was ready to be done with this path. It was only supposed to be about a 75 minute walk, so I knew I was really close to the end. I could only imagine what might come next. Actually, I didn't. It was a stream. A running stream across the pavement that I had to ford. It was just shallow enough to ensure slippery footing. Again with the muttering. Normally, none of these obstacles are a big deal, but at a time when my movement is a little impaired and my footing can be uneven, they were a little more challenging. Why, oh why, of all the walks we'd done in Switzerland, did this one have to be the one that Nathan was missing. The one time I really needed assistance...and cow bait.

The path finally ended, and I walked back into town. Nathan's migraine had lessened, and I, trying to be a good sport for the afternoon, suggested an afternoon bus ride reputed to be a quite scenic ride. Thankfully, the tickets were expensive, and upon further discussion, we found that we both just wanted to relax in the hotel room for the afternoon. This plan worked out because shortly after we ate lunch, the skies opened up in a cracking good thunderstorm, which we enjoyed from our covered balcony while napping and reading. While we would have enjoyed one more sunny day to enjoy some more hiking, our bodies and feet were aching, and we'd been away from home a long time.

Best Day of Hiking Ever

Our forecasted sunny day dawned, and we headed back over to the Lauterbrunnen Valley (only a 15 minute drive) to take the cable car up to Murren, another car free, mountain town, this time on the opposite side of the valley. Hikes from Murren provide the views of the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. On our trip the previous day to Wengen, we'd actually hoped to hike a ridge line on a walk reputed to be one of the best in the region...only to find the route was still closed due to snow...in June. Not something we expected, but at an elevation of 7000 feet, we should have. We wanted to do a walk called the North Face Trail from Murren - actually, from yet another "town" (hamlet) a cable car ride up from Murren. Stopping in at Murren's Tourist Office, we found that one part of the North Face Trail was open - not the one we'd planned to hike, but we'd take what we could get. Riding the cable car up even higher, we stepped off at Alpenhubell and into glorious mountain views. The Jungrau mountain was front and center, right in our faces, the entire hike.

I'm 26 weeks along here.

Switzerland has these handy, yellow, directional signs that point your way toward towns, toward specific hikes, etc. Sometimes they just say "Wanderweg," which means walking trail. While these little signs are normally quite helpful, the North Face Trail signs gave us some confusing moments. The trail has a few split offs where you can walk to different towns, walk a different trail down, and so on. The trail we were following ended, or so we thought, at the front door of a house. We thought we'd missed the trail and gotten on a long driveway, so we backtracked, picked a different split, and that trail just petered out fairly quickly. Our only other option was to follow yet another split that headed up. We did not want to go up, so we headed back down the "driveway," and in walking on and over the front doorstep to peek around the corner, found the trail did in fact continue...along the side deck of the house, down some stairs, and then back on the real trail again.

We reached Murren in the amount of time the trail signs had listed (oh yeah, those handy walking signs also list distances and/or hiking times to the destination - so efficient!), and we were quite proud of ourselves since we've tended to become slow pokes. Although we had aching feet, we were just not ready to give up those views and call it a day, so we headed out from Murren on a family friendly trail (mostly flat and mostly paved) to the next village down the mountain, where we could catch the cable car down to the valley and our car. This second trail had views of all three of the biggies in this mountain world, and we had a slow pace with lots of stops for "photos" (i.e., rest). Even now, when I look back over our photos, I cannot get over the beauty of this region. Nathan called this his best day of hiking ever...high praise indeed.

Finding Paradise

Back to our vacation that now seems like it was eons ago, we based ourselves in the small town of Grindelwald, the next valley over from Lauterbrunnen Valley. We loved the town, and while a couple of the guidebooks I read listed it as crowded and touristy and kitschy, we found it to be a lovely, friendly town with plenty of restaurants from which to choose, some nice places to sit and enjoy the mountain views, and very friendly people staffing the hotels, restaurants, and shops. With our three day trip, we mostly planned to do hiking and hoped to do one day trip, possibly to Lucerne, as well.

This area of Switzerland is what you see on postcards and brochures. Towering, snow-covered, Alpine mountains and gorgeous, green valleys with wood chalets dotting the landscape. At this time of year (early June), waterfalls cascade down all the mountains and hills. The most famous mountains of this area are the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau, with a nice little legend to keep their order straight - The Ogre (Eiger) is kept away from the Maiden (Jungfrau) by the Monk (Monch). The Jungfraujoch at the top is heralded as the Top of Europe because it's the highest railway station in Europe, reached by railway and cable car. Servicing the valleys in this region are comprehensive, clean, scenic combinations of trains, cog rails, and cable cars. And Switzerland is EXPENSIVE! To go to Jungfraujoch costs something like $200. Some of the other, most scenic cable car routes were $100 and up per person. Since we just wanted to do some walking, we decided we'd get great views wherever we were and we could skip seeing the best of the best, i.e., heading to the tops of the mountains. And we were not disappointed.

Doesn't  the Lauterbrunnen Valley look like utter Paradise!

Our first morning dawned a bit cloudy, so we headed to Trummelbach Falls, a place where tunnels are carved out of the mountainside, and you can see various waterfalls of the glacier melt from the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. They are beautiful and thundering and we spent an inordinate amount of time playing with the camera to capture the beauty.

Then the sun came out and we headed up a mountain via cog rail to visit the car-free, mountain town of Wengen. Sadly, we found out after our return home, when Nathan posted photos on Facebook, that some military friends from long ago were staying in Wengen that exact day! What are the odds? We did not run into our friends - instead, we took a short walk through town, then headed down to the valley and our car via a hike down rather than the railway. The hike was a bit steeper than I expected in some places (not in the below photo!), and with my center of gravity having shifted to the front a bit, I had to take more care than usual on the steeper parts. But our walk was filled with great views, and we enjoyed picking out the beautiful chalets that would work for our vacation home. The hike down from Wengen just whet our appetite for more of those views, and with a sunny day forecasted next, we were looking forward to Day 2 in the Swiss Alps.

Cross Country Skiiing - One Time and One Time Only

My new profile picture says it all. I don't think we need to discuss the issue further...except I would like to note that the background of that picture is a hill. I thought cross-country skiing was across FLAT land. I will post the same picture at the bottom of this post since I don't intend for that to be my profile picture forever.

So moving right along past Day Three, on our final day in Chamonix, our group once again split up. The guys decided against another ski day and instead did the trip up to Aiguille du Midi. K. spent the day exploring town further and resting, and I took a cable car trip up the other side of the valley, using the Brevent lift. I found this to be far, far more terrifying than the Aiguille du Midi trip. That cable car was large and packed with people. Even though we could see just how high up we were, the snow beneath the car gave the illusion of a soft landing, and with all those bodies around, again, an illusion of safety...I might be able to bounce off of one them in the event of a disaster. Not so on the Brevent lift. It's a small, gondola type car which I had all to myself as we went up, up, up over a clear-cut path littered with spiky, tree stumps. There was just no place for my mind to go for reassurance of possible survival. I was quite breathless upon arrival at the top, especially as a paraglider went flying by at close range.

The day was sunny and incredibly warm at the top of the mountain. I roasted in a ski jacket and fleece pants, and the lounge chairs set up for folks to sit and sunbathe at the edge of the mountain made perfect sense. I was also intrigued by the number of people up at the top of the mountain walking their dog around the ski area. These were not patrol dogs, just regular people who apparently put their dog on the gondola and took him/her up for a little jaunt in the snow. But then, dogs were everywhere in Chamonix, even in nice restaurants and bars. France is clearly the place for me and Crazy Dog, but Crazy would have to learn some manners, like the French dogs have. Several of them even carried their own leashes! Meanwhile, back in Naples, our nutso ran away from his BFF's house when a maintenance man left the gate open. He apparently galloped about in a mud field somewhere, or perhaps just the gutters with all the other Neapolitan strays, until our friend's landlord found him and drug him home, with mud covering him up to his stomach. Scully once again earned his nickname, even though at this very moment, he is lying peacefully in his dog bed, looking so innocent and cute. He had a hard morning patrolling our grounds to keep them safe from Sinbad, the one-eyed cat, who cleverly taunts Scully from atop our fence.

But back to the Brevent ski area...following a little wander around, I braved another cable car - this one stretched between two mountain peaks and is a pretty, red box that slowly moves horizontally and slightly up while dangling over absolutely nothing at all. At the top was yet another nice, sunbathing area, a couple of men with a yellow lab who were straight out of an L.L. Bean catalog, and the most panoramic restaurant yet. I'd intended to ride some other cable cars and/or the train that connects the villages throughout the valley, but one look at this restaurant threw my schedule out the window. It was irresistible. Before taking a seat, I availed myself of one of the lounge chairs, planning to read for awhile. However, it was quite disconcerting to sit back in a lounge chair on a bright, sunny day and see only snow-covered, mountain peaks while listening to the clicks of skiers stepping into their bindings. I didn't last long before heading over to the restaurant.

Our last night in Chamonix was lighter fare after the many pounds of melted cheese consumed the previous days. We loved our wintertime visit to the Alps and hope to do another weekend trip in the summer for some hiking among that gorgeous scenery...cross-country skiing, however, will most likely never be attempted again.

Glacier Walks & Melted Cheese

Mer de Glace Glacier, 4.3 miles long and 656 feet deep

Following our trip up Aiguille du Midi, K. and I headed down the cable car in order to catch the Montenvers train up to Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice). The nearly empty train wound it's way up the mountain, giving us perfect glimpses of soaring, alpine peaks and Chamonix town far below. Arriving in mid-afternoon meant our follow-on trip in adorable, little red gondolas down to the glacier was peaceful and uncrowded (very unlike our trip down from Aiguille du Midi, which resulted in a small brawl with a large, drunk fellow who'd taken a liking to K.).

This was a first glacier trip for both of us, and we were awed. Mer de Glace moves at a rate of 1cm per hour (!), and each year, "they" (the mysterious they) carve an ice cave inside the glacier. As we took the gondola down, we were able to see the curve of the glacier in the distance, with just a hint of that color that seems a  mix between sea glass green and cerulean blue, depending on how the light hits it. Just below us, were several crevasses and the entrance to the ice cave, which we had almost all to ourselves. I fell in love with the curvature of the ice, the way it seemed to flow and whisper.

One of the things I loved in Chamonix were some of the vintage posters. On our final night, Nathan and I visited a photography shop and fell in love with some of the postcards showing photos from the late 1800s/early 1900s of explorers, both men and women, walking about on the glacier, generally without rope holding them together, the women carrying parasols, looking for all the world as if they're out for a Sunday stroll. One postcard clearly shows that parasols were for more than sun protection as the women used these for the men to help them across a crevasse or while walking along a narrow ridge - clever girls, weren't they? These vintage photos are contrasted with our trip to the glacier, where K. and I saw several hiking groups, all roped together on the glacier or, off the glacier, weighted down with packs carrying rope, pickaxes, carabiners galore, and so on. We found the painting to the right adorning the outside of a Chamonix bank, and later found a postcard of it displaying the original photograph, which was taken by Georges Tairraz in 1908 of an ascension of Mont Blanc.

K. and I met up with the guys back in town, running into them strolling down the street in their skiwear. They'd been to the pharmacy since Nathan had hurt his ankle in a fall. Nothing too serious, but ibuprofen and a compress was needed. Cocktails were in order, so we had an apres-ski get together at a local bar (in France, a bar is an actual bar, not a place for coffee) before heading off to another delicious dinner.

Day Two was a lazy day of hanging about town, exploring the shops, eating every couple of hours. It was France, home of the best croissants in the world, nutella crepes, gorgeous patisseries, yummy baguettes, and a selection of cheeses to make one swoon. Chamonix is in the region of Savoy, home of such delights as Raclette, Fondue (good fondue, not the stuff made with Velveeta), and, a new discovery, Tartiflette. This dish is very similar to a potatoes au gratin, but to my taste buds, which have been eating octopus salad, fried dough balls, mozzarella, and spaghetti with clams for the last four months, I thought I might actually pass out from pleasure over Tartiflette - potatoes, cooked with cream and bacon and onions, then covered with Reblochon cheese and baked. The reblochon cheese is phenomenal. I must eat more Tartiflette. And to my aunt, who asked in a comment a few posts ago if I'd gained weight since moving here, I now have what our friend K. calls a "cheese baby." My cheese baby was a delight to conceive over other meals, too, such as Raclette, where the waiter brought a small, cast iron, charcoal grill to the table for us to melt our own cheese, then pour it over sausages and potatoes.

I have to also mention the cocktails available in Chamonix. Each restaurant had their own house cocktails, which usually involved some sort of fruit liqueur  or syrup with either white wine or champagne. All delicious...but my absolute favorite is a traitor to Nathan's hours upon hours of perfecting the best mojito, which he learned to make during our station in Key West. Hotel Le Morgane, where our friends were staying, had a swank bar in the lobby, decorated in gray tones with fuzzy chairs and tree trunk coffee tables. One of their specialties was a twist on the mojito - lots of sugar in the bottom of the glass, then fill the glass with fresh mint (lots and lots of mint), then just pour in the champagne and stick in a straw. Voila! If I can get some fresh mint growing around this house, we will change the name (Nathan's a bit hurt that I would like this "mojito" better than his, but it really doesn't resemble a mojito in the slightest) and add it to our cocktail offerings for dinner guests. I think I'll call it Alpine Dream.

Ascending the Needle

We've just returned from a six day trip to Chamonix, France, a long weekend intended to be a ski trip but which turned into an eat-our-way-through-every-melted-cheese-dish-available. We went with our friends, D.&K., who are leaving in under a month, so we had to pack in as much fun as possible. From Naples to Geneva, there is a cheap and quick flight to Geneva, Switzerland, where one then catches a 1.5 hour shuttle to the Alpine town of Chamonix. Unfortunately, our flight was delayed over three hours, which led to us missing our shuttle and another delay in Geneva of two hours for the next one. Our quick, weekend jaunt turned into an all-out, full day of travel. After settling into our respective hotels (we stayed at La Croix Blanche, our friends were at Le Morgane), we headed out for a delicious meal which set the standard for the next four days of incredible food. In four days, we didn't have a single, bad meal, and for me, I didn't even have anything mediocre. Every dish was amazing, even down to the simple, fresh bread and goat cheese sandwich.

Friday, our group split up, with the guys heading off to ski Le Brevent while K. and I headed up the cable car to Aiguille du Midi (Needle of Midday), a height of 3842 meters (12,605 feet). Thrilling, terrifying, amazing, exhilarating. We packed into one cable car, which held about 40 people and quickly watched the town of Chamonix recede into the distance. Then the transfer to the second cable car. I later learned that these cable cars have the highest vertical ascent in the world. At the top, we found a building setting atop a mountain peak. And by setting atop, I mean the building is directly on a spire peak. The connection to the next building is over a short bridge with nothing under it. Parts of the building hang off the edge of the mountain. Stairs to various terraces are metal, ice-covered, and see-through, so that we could get a good look at the great nothingness below. But the views...what can I say...we were quite literally on top of the world. And the Alps just stretch out into the distance as far as you can see. As K. observed, "these are nothing like the Rockies." At a rough guess, I took approximately 150 photos of Alps peaks, which all look beautiful and "same, same, but different" - much like the 401 pictures of sunsets that also litter our various photo albums. We got an up close view of Mont Blanc, Western Europe's highest peak (over 4800 meters), and got to watch skiers head down an impossibly steep, slippery ridge, carrying skis, poles, and packs, to launch themselves into the Vallee Blanche ski area - an area that is not groomed, not patrolled, and prone to unseen crevasses and avalanches.

Underneath all the padding, this is me, venturing out as far as I'm willing past the big, "Don't go here" signs. The photo above shows the actual skiers walking down this same ridge to reach the top of the "ski" area.

K. and I had a quick lunch in a small cafe with panoramic windows overlooking the majesty, then spent half an hour trying to find the lift to the actual top of Aiguille du Midi. We finally found someone to ask, and luckily for us, the fellow who operated the lift was standing nearby. He'd closed it due to lack of use by the morning's visitors. After a short wait, we headed even further up, where we got a great, overhead view of the building we'd just been tromping around. I have a little vertigo just looking at this photo!

Over the next few days, I'll put up more information about our trip. The rest of the trip, while not quite as scream inducing, was nevertheless, a fantastic, restful time and the fulfillment of a dream of Nathan's to ski in the Alps.