In continued my “no hiking day” trend, and instead of taking a day hike up to the top of the peak behind the hut, I am sitting on the deck in the sun (writing in my journal, later to be blogged), gazing at the Matterhorn, sipping on some sparkling apple cider. There is not a cloud in the sky, and the sound of distant cow and sheep bells can be heard coming from the valley.
We really only have another day and a half in Switzerland. It’s gone incredibly fast.
Some observations that I don’t want to forget:
Although the ads say that happy cows come from CA, I would have to disagree. They come from Switzerland. Although they still look really bored, the cows here all have bells and get to graye in tall green grass and flowers, while looking at views of spectacular peaks. Harris Ranch would be the Folsom Prison of the cow realm.
Over 50% of all tourists here are from Japan. They travel in swarms with bucket hats, umbrellas, and if there is a chance of showers, full brightly colored Goretex. They are very prepared. Some of the places we have been to have flown both a Swiss and a Japanese flag. I think there is such a strong connection between the two countries because of the colors and simple shapes on their respective flags.
You don’t have to tip in restaurants, so as a result, waiters and waitresses don’t put on a smiley face if you ask questions or make requests that may or may not be “stupid.” (Asking what a word means in English, or requesting dressing on the side).
The sheep/goats/yaks/hybrids get bells and are herded through the city streets and up hiking trails to higher grassy areas for the day. And then they get herded back down. The half black half white (front half and back half) goaty yaks walked down the main street in Zermatt every morning and afternoon. Some of the babies would get distracted and fall behind, only to get collected by the sheep herder. Aunika wants to be a sheep herder when she grows up.
There are other sheep that we encountered that look like they had a long white tight perm, black knee pads, and curly horns. They looked like a cross between a sheep, alpaca, and Dixie (Aunika’s german wirehair that has a beard).
None of the hotels we’ve stayed at have supplied sheets. There is a fitted sheet, pillow, and duvet or wool blanket. We were prepared with our silk sleep sheets, but if you didn’t know about this trend, it would be unfortunate. Also, there are no double beds, but two twin beds that are pushed together with a gap. Most of the hotels have a bathroom and shower for the whole floor, not in each room. Most all of them have offered breakfast. A table was reserved for us in the morning, and the standard bread, jam, cheese, yogurt, museli, cereal, hot cocoa and tea has been offered.
All public transportation is painfully on time. On our train from Adelboden to Frutigen, we made a stop and around 25 girl scouts from Ohio attempted to board with all their bags in the rain. Sensing that we would be delayed because of this, the driver told them to leave their bags and a later car would pick up their bags and deliver them to the station. I do not know if they were successful or not.
The most popular soft drink here is Rivella, which contains “milk serum.” It is absolutely disgusting.
All trails are very well marked with a white/red/white striped paint mark on occasional rocks and informative yellow markers on poles which tell the estimated time to various destinations. The problem is that they are indicated in Swiss hours, which are about an hour faster than regular hours.
In the grocery store, mayo, ketchup, mustard and tomato paste come in aluminum squirt tubes.
Nutella, jam and a variation of Laughing Cow soft cheese is served with bread at nearly every meal.
No one appears to be thirsty. When tap water is requested for the table, small juice glasses are filled, one for every person. Refills are often granted, begrudgingly.
When passing people on the trail, everyone says hello in their own language: German, French, Italian, English or something less recognizable.
No one wears shorts except for us. Capris are popular, though, for both men and women.
No one wears trail runners or hiking shoes except for us. I’ve seen grandpas, chubby women in jeans and nuns all wearing hiking boots. Although the rest of their outfits weren’t suited for hiking, their feet sure were.
The Swiss all carry very small day packs, if anything at all.
They keep their houses and yards impeccably neat and tidy. This is especially obvious in their immaculate wood piles and manicured gardens.
The cars are all small and I have only seen two SUVs. No Hummers or Escalades.
The door keys and locks are all smooth. Instead of a jagged edge, most keys have smooth sides and various round dents on the face. The doors all have a lip so you can’t open it with a credit card. In one hotel, they had an electronic key card. The doork knob would spin in any direction and not catch until the card was inserted. David had a room to himself. He had unpacked, grabbed stuff for his shower and shut his door. When he tried to get back in, the key didn’t work. The guy from the front desk had no luck with his master key, and it was apparent that eh had no back up plan when he suggested that we add an extra bed to our room. When we explained that all David’s things were in the room, he went next door to Kjirsten’s room to see if he could climb out the 4th floor window into David’s room. Luckilz the key just started working again for no apparent reason.
Aunika has an odd case of one-off hiccup-squawks. Since she gets everzone’s attention, we require her to tell us a fact after each one. Her sources are often in question, though, as she has claimed that pineapples and cotton come from trees and that our solar system is called the Milky Way.
I finally understand Kjirsten. She thinks peaks and views are like Pokemon: You gotta collect them all.
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