Puppets Singing Mozart – The Salzburger Marionettentheater

My hostel in Innsbruck was easily the worst I’ve ever had the misfortune to stay in. I won’t subject you to a whole ranting post about it, but suffice it to say… It had bedbugs. My bed had bedbugs. After two nights, my shoulders and legs were covered with some two-dozen huge red bites that itched like crazy. I still can’t really wear shorts or tank tops in public, because it looks like I have some horrific rash…

So after the trials of Innsbruck, I really, really needed a break. Unfortunately, I saw almost nothing of Salzburg but the inside of the laundromat where I washed every article of clothing I own, including my purse and my whole backpack. Bedbugs spread because their eggs stick to anything that comes in contact with them, like, I don’t know, my pajamas, lots of my clothes, my bra, my underwear, my purse, my jacket, my fleece… I had to purge everything before my skin would stop crawling at the thought…

But one thing I did catch in Salzburg was an all-puppet version of Die Zauberflöte at the Salzburg Marionette Theater.

The famousest aria of them all! The Queen of the Night II, performed by a puppet!

And one of my favorite duets, between Papageno and Papagena. Papageno gives Papagena until the count of three to appear, and when she doesn’t, he tries to hang himself. But before he does, the three spirits stop him and produce his Papagena!

Unfortunately, this was not an all-out musical production of The Magic Flute. I’m almost positive that everything, including the dialogue, was prerecorded and that the only performing going on was the puppeteering. But they did a great job! Of course it can’t be completely realistic, but the number of body parts that they manage to manipulate is amazing, down to the characters’ eyebrows!

The puppet-crew at curtain call. The whole thing was done by only five puppeteers!

There’s a lot more to do in Salzburg than I had time or energy for – Mozart’s house, a castle, a palace, a cathedral, many theaters and concert halls, and of course the obligatory Sound of Music tours, but all that will have to wait for next time! And there will definitely be a next time. 🙂
Oh, and speaking of trippy fantasy plots and singing puppets… these two videos from Labyrinth. That’s all!

 

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Yodeling and Beer – Tirolerabend in Innsbruck

So remember when I went to the lovely folk concert in Gimmelwald? The famous Tirolerabend in Innsbruck is the evil, commercialized twin sister of the one in Gimmelwald. It’s kind of the “don’t miss” thing to do in Innsbruck, though, and I guess it was a good way to spend the evening. “Tirolerabend” is so called because it’s in the evening (“abend”), and because Innsbruck is in the region of Austria called the Tirol, which is culturally very similar to Bavaria in Germany – you know, the beersteins, the buxom tavern-wench costumes for women, the lederhosen and green feathered hats for men…

They have entire department stores devoted to these sorts of costumes (mostly for women), and people just walk around Innsbruck dressed like this! Granted, I’m sure some of them are going to/coming from work, for which this is probably their uniform, but some of them were definitely just living their lives in regional costume…!

So since the whole city looks to be in a perpetual state of Oktoberfest, why not drink the koolaid and go to a concert of traditional music and dancing and beer?

Tirolerabend was actually pretty cool, considering how shamelessly it caters to groups of Japanese and American tourists. Well, the complimentary beer helped. But also, this particular family, Gundolf, has been putting on these folk concerts continuously since 1967, so I guess it’s even a tradition to go to a concert! And even if the performers were performing weird and traditional musical acts for a hundred-odd boorish tourists, the performers were still… performing weird and traditional musical acts!

The yodeling in particular was pretty impressive:

And my other favorite was the various dances performed by tall skinny men in lederhosen.
I’m sorry, I still can’t watch these without laughing…. They’re literally prancing.

I can’t decide if I prefer the guy on the right, who looks super femme and is really into it, or the guy on the left who has his top button undone and is somehow really going for “manly man…”

Annnnd one more video of the singing saw, which really does sound eerily like a human voice…

All in all a fun show, and it went perfectly with beer and sausages. Yummm.

I leave you now with two relevant and entertaining videos:

(be sure to listen at 1:47, as Snow White casually floats a high Eb. Like it’s no big deal.) (Oh dear, and also the blatant racism at 1:40… Womp.)

(and at around 1:55, Julie Andrews has a rather awesome yodel-y descant)

And that’s a good place to end because the next post will be from Salzburg (like Maria and the Von Trapps), and will also feature marionette puppets! Aufwiedersehen!

 

Deformities of the Hapsburgs

Switzerland was so incredible, I wound up spending about twice as long there as I had intended. I could have stayed twice as long again, but Austria beckoned!

My first destination in Austria was the mountain city of Innsbruck. People make an awfully big deal of the mountains surrounding Innsbruck, but after the scenery I had just come from in Switzerland, I thought Innsbruck’s little mountains pretty unremarkable. I guess I’m jaded. Or elitist.

But I didn’t need mountains, because now I was back in a city filled with history! I visited two royal residences in Innsbruck: the Hofburg Palace which was a seat of the 18th century Habsburgs, and Castle Ambras, seat of the 14th, 15th, and 16th century Habsburgs. One of the most interesting things I found was the Hapsburg Portrait Gallery in the Castle Ambras.

After gazing at hundreds of portraits of this massive and incestuous family spanning the 14th through the 17th centuries, I began to notice something… Most of these people were massively unattractive.

But I don’t think I’m being too harsh on their looks. Think about this: paintings, unlike photographic portraits today, are a great medium for hiding flaws, because each detail is controlled and reproduced by the hand of an individual who is being paid tons of money to portray the subject in the best light possible. For instance, we know that most people in renaissance and baroque Europe, even of the aristocracy, had terrible hygiene by modern standards, and that in the 17th and 18th centuries, for instance, perfume and makeup literally replaced bathing. I’m not kidding. Bathing went out of fashion, so if you smelled, you just kept deodorizing and spritzing (the reason that the French developed the reputation that one could smell their copiously-applied perfume long before you saw them). Nevertheless, most of these people look quite good in their portraits. No acne, generally shapely bodies, comely faces, etc.

But these Habsburgs, despite what must have been the best efforts of their court painters, still manage to look marvelously hideous.

I took photos of some of the choicest examples:

Maybe it’s hard to see, but if you look closely you can see that one eye is not only lazy, but also is sort of.. messed up in the pupil.

She too has one eye larger and higher than the other, a small but weak-looking mouth, and a pronouncedly hooked nose. And, well… let’s not talk about her outfit. In my opinion, the 17th century was one of the low-points of European fashion.

I don’t even really know where to begin… With her receding hairline, or her apparent rosacea?

I guess there’s no thing actually wrong with her, just that her face is unusually pointy, and again there’s something a little off about her eyes…

Now, I’m no expert on the Habsburgs, but I know several things: They were an enormous family, with several significant branches that eventually ruled most of the major courts of Europe; They were very adept at arranging strategic marriages to maintain and increase their power; at some point, they controlled so much of Europe that the only logical monarchs with whom to marry and breed were… other Habsburgs, and this is succinctly why the Habsburgs, peaking in the latter 16th century, started to show their inbreeding by producing heirs who were increasingly physically deformed and mentally unstable.

One of the most distinctive family traits was the famous “Habsburg jaw.” I’m sorry I can’t tell you precisely who this is, but you know he’s a Habsburg because, well… look at his freaking jaw!!!

And of course, when a man with a huge jaw breeds with a woman who has a large jaw…

Mariana of Austria

They produce a child with… an even larger jaw.

King Charles II of Spain, son of Mariana of Austria and Philip III of Spain.

I present to you King Charles II of Spain, possibly the most unfit ruler Europe has ever seen, and a tragic consequence of dynastic inbreeding. According to accounts, Charles II’s jaw was so large that he had difficulty chewing, and his tongue was so large and thick that it was difficult to understand when he spoke. But this was not all. Charles was also epileptic and physically deformed (of course you can see his face in the portrait, but his body was all out of sorts as well, due to a spinal defect), and, shall we say… slow. He did not learn to speak until age four, and did not walk until he was almost eight. Genomists have studied his ancestors and concluded that almost 25% of his genes were homozygous, about the amount that would be expected from the marriage of a brother and sister.

I’m so pleased by this picture: Charles II’s marble bust, in profile. I rest my case.

He was also, of course, sterile. But this didn’t keep him from trying to produce an heir with two wives. Those poor, poor ladies… D:

Here’s another gem, Charles II’s great-uncle, Don Carlos of Asturias:

Here we have another mentally unstable individual with pronounced physical deformities. He died before he could succeed his father Philip II to the Spanish throne. According to his ancestry, he had only four great-grandparents, where he should have eight, and only six great-great grandparents, where he should have sixteen. Womp womp. 😦

And to finish off, I want to stick to my guns and reassert that the 17th century was a fashion-tragedy. I love historical costume and fashion, but even I have to ask, “How did people ever think this was attractive?!”

Some gems:

I should probably put something here about “Those poor people, it’s not their fault their family waged war in the marriage bed and didn’t yet know about genetics. They’re a product of the times – it’s not their fault!” So, okay, I acknowledge that, but these people also had it all: they were born fabulously wealthy and everyone had to do what they said. It’s a much better fate than if they had been born poor, where they would be ridiculed and probably considered the village idiot, would be unemployable and probably end up homeless begging for their food. Of course I know being king is not an easy task, and the wise man is probably he who doesn’t want to be king. So let’s not get into the discussion about the relative merits of a system that grants absolute power to an individual simply because they were born to the right parents, even if they’re the least qualified person in the world for the job of ruling… Oy vey.

And all that being said, I would still pick being a princess over any other possible occupation.

More posts on the Habsburgs and Austria coming soon! They’re a fascinating family!

OH bonus, totally forgot about that awesome time when 30 Rock parodied the hyper-inbreeding of the Habsburgs:

 

From Switzerland With Love

After a few days in Grindelwald and the trip to Jungfraujoch, both of which were pretty touristy, I treated myself (again, I’m just always “treating myself,” aren’t I?) to a sojourn in the teeny tiniest village I could possibly find that still qualified as a “village.”

This was Gimmelwald. But it’s nothing like Grindelwald. The tiny town is situated on the edge of a cliff overlooking a valley (the village on the valley floor is called Lauterbrunnen and is big enough to have a train station, at least). Gimmelwald is only accessible by funicular, in true Swissalpen style. There are only about 20 houses in the whole place and, according to Rick Steves, almost everyone in the town has the same last name of Brunner (and yes, the lady with whom I booked my accommodation was indeed named Brunner).

For sale at the “Honesty Shop,” one franc per egg!

I stayed at the  “mountain hostel” and met some really nice American girls to hang out with. Within fifteen minutes of my arrival, one of them gave me the following instructions regarding dinner: “Walk straight down the dirt road, about five minutes. You’ll pass cows on your right, but if you go past the goat hutch you’ve gone too far. When you see a little wooden house with purple flowers in the windows, ring the bell. A woman named Helga will sell you sausage and cheese.” I couldn’t resist, but did exactly that. Helga Brunner wasn’t at home, but her cousin, Rolf Brunner was, and he showed me their cheese-curing room.

The cheese he had to sell me was one and two years old – this year’s cheese was still too young (you can see it on the shelves!). He let me taste each, the “Jungkase” or “young cheese” and the old. The old was much stronger, and the young already hard and crumbly but still smooth-tasting. I opted for the jungkase.

The rind of each wheel of cheese is stamped with a number, according to the order of its production.

He also sold me some beef sausage, and together that made a perfect dinner. Thanks, friend Rolf!

You’re welcome, Steffibunny!

After this, a couple of us took the cablecar up to the next town (Mürren) for a “Volksabend” or “Folkloric Evening,” which turned out to be a free concert featuring traditional dancing, yodeling, playing of the traditional alphorn, and twirling of the Swiss flag. This was particularly enjoyable because, unlike the tourist traps in Salzburg and Innsbruck, the people performing at this evening were part of real societies preserving their historic culture. For instance, we saw the “yodeling choir” and several traditional dance troupes. These are all locals who participate in these clubs in their spare time just for their own enjoyment, not as a gag for rich tourists.

But the reason most people go to tiny, picturesque Gimmelwald, is as a stepping stone to the local summit, the Schilthorn. The Schilthorn itself is nothing much to look at, kind of bald and barren-looking actually, but it’s the view from the top that make it one of my favorite places I’ve ever been. I would come back here before I went back to Jungfraujoch, in a heartbeat. One of the biggest attractions up there is the Piz Gloria, a 360-degree rotating restaurant. It. Was. Incredible.

Apparently, part of From Russia With Love was filmed here, and they offer a James Bond Breakfast Special: The biggest breakfast buffet you’ve ever seen (in true Swiss style – coldcuts, cheeses, breads, butter, soft-boiled eggs, muesli, and some scrambled eggs and sausage) at the center of the circular restaurant, and also bottomless coffee, AND a glass of champagne, just to make you feel completely glamorous. So two Americans from Ohio and I opted WAY in, and sat for almost two hours just sipping, eating, chatting, and watching the mountains from eye-level. It might be the best breakfast I’ll ever eat.

After that, we all hiked back down to Gimmelwald! Well actually, I let them get about a 20 mintues head start, because I really prefer hiking alone. I’m not antisocial or misanthropic, just that when I hike I tend to be a follower, not a leader, and I go into “horse-mode,” and just follow the butt of the person in front of me without making my own way. So I said, “no offense!” and waved the other two girls on their way, and spent a few extra minutes hanging out on the observation deck.

Needless to say, the views were unbelievable. The day was almost cloudless, so you could see as far as Italy in one direction, to Germany in another, and to France in another.

The Schilthorn boasts “the best views of Jungfrau,” and I think they’re right. You can see them perfectly lined up here: Eiger, Münch, and Jungfrau.

The hike down is not too long, 1600 m difference in altitude from top to bottom (that’s about 4,800 feet!), and it took me about 5 hours total (with a lot of breaks though, and at a leisurely pace). That sounds like an awful lot to me, but this chart on the Schilthorn says it’s true! It didn’t feel that hard, but my glutes were feeling it for days afterward haha.

Gimmelwald-Murren-Birg-Schilthorn

Here’s the view from the top down:

You can see part of my trail, that teeny thing at the bottom!

I can’t think of a better way to spend 5 hours. The top of the trail was still snowed-in, so the first half hour was spent slipping and sliding over snow-slash-glaciers, but after I descended a little, the trail was clear.

I told you the Schilthorn itself wasn’t that pretty…

One of the best things I found on the way down was a glacial lake. It was completely clear, and had this subtle blue tinge. Half of it was still frozen as snow, and it was SO clear that I actually filled my waterbottle from it.

Even in my bottle, the water was spotless, and tasted great!

All the publicity for the region claims that the hiking around the Schilthorn features some of “the most beautiful alpine scenery most people will see in their entire lives.” And I absolutely have to agree.

This is like The Lion King, if The Lion King happened in Switzerland instead of Africa.

Yes, my camera really took this picture. Yes, this is a real place.

My leg muscles may have remembered this hike for a few days, but I’m pretty sure I will remember it forever.

Jungfraujoch – Top of Europe

No trip to the Lake Thun area would be complete without a visit to the highest train station in Europe – the Jungfraujoch. Nestled in the saddle between the Münch and Jungfrau peaks, at 3,500 meters (11,400 feet), it was [imho] well worth the outrageously expensive train fare (180 Euros, but slightly less with a Eurail pass). I know, a number like that for a train ride almost makes my heart stop (that’s like, a week’s worth of hostels, or a month’s worth of Starbucks… yes I could easily spend 180 euro on Starbucks in one month. Don’t judge me.), but if you’ve already come so far, why not go all the way? Besides, who knows when/if I’ll ever get the chance again?

At night, I could see the train station and weather center from the Niederhorn:

That little black dot in the depression between the peaks – that’s Jungfraujoch.

After coming down from the Niederhorn, I finished my boat trip across Lake Thun and took a train from Interlaken to the little town of Grindelwald (yes, like the elder-wand wizard from Harry Potter), which is a little toursity but still very cute, and situated in some gorgeous scenery (when it’s not too fogged-in to see it):

From Grindelwald you take a special, privately-operated train to the top. The ride itself was… kind of a disaster, but also kind of funny. It was made terrible and hilarious by the HORDES of Indian tourists. Now, this is not racism. This is an honest assessment of several hundred of collectively some of the rudest people I’ve ever met, and I would say the same of them if they were Chinese, or Spanish, or American.

First of all, they came in massive groups. I’m talking tours of 50+ people, so that when they’re walking anywhere it’s like being caught in a stampede. There’s the guide in front with his little flag or sign or whatever, and then 50 or 60 people charging blindly ahead, pretending you don’t exist, and certainly not caring if they elbow you in the stomach, or step on your toes, or actually knock you over, which actually happened to me when I got caught in the middle of a group. Obviously, an apology or even a “Pardon me” would be out of the question.

I ended up on a train car in which I was the only non-Indian person present, except for one Swiss couple. But there were no seats in the car. The Swiss couple and I were standing. Now, I’m not trying to be a biddy, but I didn’t pay 150 euros to *stand* on my train ride up the mountain (this is of course the company’s fault, not the tourists’. Also, you should understand, this is a very steep ride as trains go, so the incline makes standing on this train actually pretty difficult). So I’m looking around for somewhere to perch, and the only place is one of those folding seats near the door. There was an Indian man sitting in one, and across from him was sitting… his camera bag. There are people standing on this train, and his camera bag was occupying a seat. I indicated to him that I wanted to sit there (he didn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Hindi), but he refused to move his bag. So I picked it up, handed it to him, and sat down. My indignation was making me rather ballsy.

A little while later, I hear someone’s cell phone going off. It’s at full volume, playing really loud, waily Indian music. I just assumed it was a ringtone, so I didn’t really care. But then it kept playing. And kept playing. It evidently wasn’t a ringtone. Some man a few seats over was just playing his music at full-blast (nor was he showing a video to a friend or anything, the phone was just sitting on the windowsill playing at full volume). I hate to be so prickly, but think about this: I’ve paid 150 euros to be on this train, it is my airspace too, and while I actually kind of like Indian music, I don’t particularly want to listen to it while I’m in Switzerland on my Swiss adventure to the top of Europe. So I walked over to the man and indicated (again, the language barrier) that I would like him to turn his music off. And he did, which was very good of him. But when I got back to my seat not 30 seconds later, the camera bag was back! So I picked it up again, and again handed it to its owner, and sat myself in the seat.

A little while later came the cherry on top of this whole train ride. Along the ride, which is mostly underground through a tunnel in the mountain, are a couple stops where the trains going up stop to let the trains pass that are going down. At each place, the train stops for a few minutes, and there are windows in the rock wall where you can look out over the scenery. So we’re at one of these stops, and the whole thing is just marvelously, pristinely beautiful. The snow outside the window is blinding white (actually though, they don’t let you take the trip without sunglasses because lengthy exposure can cause sunblindness), and we’re looking out over this uninhabited landscape – no humans whatsoever, not even a footprint in sight.

If it doesn’t look “blindingly white” in the picture, it’s only because I took the photo through a window that was not “spotlessly clean.”

So we’re stopped here, and the train doors are open. There is a trash can about 10 feet from the door of the train. As I sit watching, an Indian woman gets up from her seat carrying a banana peel. She goes to the door of the train and stands between the Swiss couple (who were also sitting/standing at the folding chairs opposite the door). She throws the banana peel through the Swiss couple, in the general direction of the trash can. When the peel inevitably misses the can… she goes right back to her seat. This woman just threw the trash on the ground of this pristine, spotless train stop in the untouched wilderness. I know it sounds dramatic, but… it felt quite obscene. And it wasn’t just me feeling this way – the Swiss couple looked horrified (No wonder, their country is probably the cleanest in the world after the Scandinavian countries.). So I guess the only thing to do was to get off the train and throw the banana peel away myself. Which is what I did. It took me all of 5 seconds, and it wasn’t very difficult.

Ok, so that was my soapbox about insufferable tourists. I know there must be many moments when I myself am an insufferable tourist, but I do everything in my power to prevent it (sometimes when you don’t speak the language and people are yelling at you in Italian for reasons you don’t understand, it’s hard not to make a spectacle of yourself…). I think the necessary thing is to be conscious of common stereotypes about your country or ethnicity and to actively work against them. For instance, I don’t know how many times I’ve experienced the following reactions: “Wait, but, I thought Americans didn’t care about going to Europe and generally never leave America?” or, “Are you in Europe because you ran out of things to see in America?” or “Wait, you’re American, why do you know where the Czech Republic is?” (truly, this last one is word-for-word). I suppose I work against this stereotype by A. Being in Europe at all, B. Being generally interested in the history, food, culture, language of the places I’m visiting, and C. Trying to visit places most tourists do not, such as Ravenna, or Mantua, or Gimmelwald, or Rovio.

Ok, enough self-congratulation, I now feel *amazing* about  myself – let’s move on.

There was plenty to do at the “Top of Europe” – several viewing platforms where you could see not only both peaks (Münch and Jungfrau), but also the whole Grindelwald valley and Lake Thun (but it was a bit cloudy, so no great pictures of the latter). These of course made some great photo ops:

The observation deck at the top of “The Sphinx,” also a weather station.

Imperfect view of the valley below, but still a pretty picture!

The line to take a photo at this particular spot was pretty long… But pretty worth it!

I bribed a German couple into taking jumping photos… by also taking jumping photos of them. It was a win-win.

Now it was SUPER cold at that altitude, so it was necessary to come back inside every so often to warm up/wait for feeling to return to my toes. Unfortunately, this was a little difficult to achieve while walking through The World’s Longest Ice Tunnel… (or so they told us, but I feel like there must be a longer one somewhere. Possibly in Antarctica.)

A bit chilly.

But this is precisely why they were selling little bottles of cognac at the cafe!

Clearly, this is what high-Fstop DSLRs are made for…

There is also a huge expanse where people can walk out onto the snow as far as they want (apparently hardcore people do actually hike up here, so nearby there’s a mountain hut/pension where you can stay the night).

All the little people walking out on the snow…!

This is where the path eventually leads. To me it looks like (and is!) basically an ice-road going between the mountains, to who knows where!

There was also a fun-looking zipline over the snow that I didn’t try (I didn’t have gloves, and I didn’t feel like spending an extra 30 euros on a pair they were selling). Alas! But after being thoroughly chilled outside, I warmed up in the restaurant with a bowl of potato soup, some hot mulled cider/rum thing (they call it “Rhumpunsch”), and some Swiss bread and butter. Yum yum yummmmm!

 

Paragliding on the Niederhorn

(Click on the pictures to make them big and pretty!)

My first view of the Niederhorn was from the boat on Lake Thun:

There it is, that big triangular mountain in the middle!

And here’s how we got up it:

Once I was up there and saw the views, I just couldn’t bear to leave. I’d been looking for a place to rest and relax, and this was definitely it. The hotel at the top was decorated like a lodge (except modern and clean), excellent lunch and dinner were included in the price, and at night it was lonely and quiet, the better to wrap yourself in a blanket and lay on the deck and look at the stars. The summit (about 1900 meters, so not actually that high compared to some other place in Switzerland) has a panoramic 360 degree view of pretty much everything. You can look across the lake to the south and see the three famous peaks: Eiger, Münch, and Jungfrau (In that order, from left to right. I gleaned somewhere that the names come from folklore: the Münch (monk) guards the Jungfrau (the maiden) from the evil Eiger (ogre).

Jungfrau is a little hidden behind that cloud…

Or to the north you can look out over the edge of the Niederhorn to look down on the valley floor three thousand feet below…

This was probably my favorite view. I spent hours lying on my stomach right on the edge, just looking. At night, the clanging of the cowbells would rise up from the valley floor so clearly you could hear the individual bells, even though the cows were too far away to be seen. The mountains have strange acoustics…!

Every night I would watch the sun set to the west…

And the herds of friendly mountain ibex kept me company! I’m actually not kidding, it really was that idyllic…

I knew I’d pass my 22nd birthday while on this trip, but had been looking for a special way to celebrate it. When I got here on the 22nd, I knew I wanted to stay in this spot through my birthday on the 24th. On the 23rd, I spent an afternoon watching the paragliders take off from the top of the Niederhorn, and I knew: this is what I wanted for my birthday.

I mean… how could you not want this?

So I made a reservation for the day of my birthday…!

This is what I expected would happen:

After all, I’d seen probably 30 or so take off the day before, and the day of my birthday was clear and beautiful. Absolutely perfect! Except… my guide and I couldn’t get airborne. The winds weren’t quite right. So we hiked down a bit and tried again. Still no luck. So we hiked down further and tried again. And again and again. We tried six times in total, and at the end of 6 hours (he had told me we’d be out about 2 hours) we were halfway down the mountain, sunburned, thirsty, hungry, tired, AND my parachute had dragged me through a nice pile of cow dung on the fifth attempt. This was no longer my lovely birthday present, and definitely not worth the couple hundred dollars I was paying for the perfect paragliding experience… So the guide and I called it off, we hiked the rest of the way down the mountain (and he proceeded to hit on me and ask me to dinner while we discussed his wife and son… ummm… Awk. Womp womp.), and I took the cablecar back up to my hotel.

What should have been…

Magical Lake Thun

In the Milan train station, while waiting for a horrifically delayed train, I met a charming old British man named Phillip who had just come from Switzerland. Where, I asked him. Where should I do in Switzerland? (By this point, I had absolutely no game plan about where I wanted to go in Switzerland, I was desperate for suggestions).

Thun, he said. Go to Thun.

It sounded like something out of Lord of the Rings, but I he said it’s a charming village on a lake. Well that sounds perfect. So I wrote it down and thought no more about it.

Then in Lugano I met a tall, dark, handsome stranger who treated me to lunch. I was shameless about picking his brain as well, and what did he say? Thun! Go to Thun! And while you’re at it, take the boat ride down the lake from Thun to Interlaken, it’s gorgeous.

So it looked like all roads were leading to Thun – who was I to resist. So I booked a hotel that night in Thun and navigated the six different trains it took to get there (a landslide in the Lucerne district was making train travel complicated). And they were absolutely right! Thun was a quaint but bustling town (hardly a village, sorry Phillip) on the western end of Lake Thun (or as they call lakes, Thunersee).

A map of the Lake Thun region. On it, you can see many of the places I visited: Thun to the west; on the north side of the lake, Beatenberg (the city under the Niederhorn); Interlaken at the East end; and just south of it, Grindelwald; And it’s too small to be on this map, but just southwest of Grindelwald is Gimmelwald. Do I regret spending almost all my Switzer-time within this same 50km area? Not a bit, because it’s collectively the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.

I got there just in time to see this rainbow:

And just in time to catch the sunset view of the lake. Though the good thing is that actually, the sun was setting behind me, but the light on the mountains and the water was spectacular. Here follows an orgy of pretty pictures to click through (and click to enlarge!):

The next day, after my sojourn to Steffisburg, I returned to Thun and took tall-dark-and-handsome’s advice and got on the boat traveling down the lake to Interlaken. It was an absolutely glorious day. Standing in the sun could be too hot, but on the water with the wind blowing everything felt perfect. And looked perfect. Get ready, cuz here comes a second orgy of pretty pictures!

Our noble steed – the Beatus! (“blessed” – I like it!)

A castle, just chillin by the lake. It’s casual.

When the outside got a little too windy for my hair, I enjoyed a glass of wine and a spectacular view from the on-board restaurant. In Switzerland, wine is cheaper than coffee, so we crossed the lake a little more buzzed than caffeinated.

I always think videos are better than photos for conveying the scale of the space. Be sure to note the perfectly turquoise water and how it sparkles in the sun!

As I was enjoying the breeze on the deck, I leafed through some pamphlets of things to do in the area (all in German, but I looked at the pictures). One advertised some summit called the “Niederhorn”, and the picture had an ibex (the mountain sheep with the big curved horns) standing in front of a spectacular view. I looked at my phone, I had a couple hours to kill. Maybe I’ll take the funicular to the top, I thought. The pamphlet said “Beatenburg.” I looked at the boat’s destination label. “Naeste Halt: Beatenberg.” It was fate, I decided, so I grabbed my backpack, slapped down 4 euro on the table for the wine, and hopped off the boat!

To be continued…!