Music, the International Language

My mom was not super thrilled initially with this town, as there wasn’t much to see from the train station. On top of that, it was raining, and the hotel we had picked (on short notice) was a bit sparse and didn’t have many amenities.  They did have working internet - which is a plus in this age of travel - so we checked emails and headed out in the light mist. 

We ran into Americans 10 seconds into our trek to see the town.  They were from Oklahoma and were in town for a meeting.  One of the two worked with animal bones - I don’t remember what exactly she did, but she was there procuring an instrument that did MRI’s of animal bones.  Bless the Swiss and their ability to work with small parts-- watches, cuckoo clocks and the like.  

We continued into town, and as we came upon the main square, Rick Steves again did NOT let us down.  It was an absolutely gorgeous little town with beautifully painted storefronts and facades.  There were small botiques that lined the streets and sold a mix of Swiss kitsch and hand crafted goods.  We worked our way through the square to the tourist center to make plans for the following day.  I, as you might have guessed, was interested in ascending the Alps once again to see the view from above.  There were a couple different options as to where we could go, but I knew I wanted to go up.  

After securing our plan for the next day, we were on the age old quest to find someplace to eat dinner.  In fine Staffa fashion, we struck out several times, as it is (evidently) well known that NO ONE in Appenzell eats before 6.  The kitchens don’t even open until 6.  We left two different places before settling on one that in fact had humans inside.  There was a small group of older people gathered, though none of them eating.  We asked the waitress if it was possible to get dinner, and after glancing at her watch she basically said well... ok.... I guess.  We took our time looking over the menu as it was only 5:20 when we arrived.  I wasn’t sure if we wouldn’t get served until after six, or if she’d make an exception, but we went with it.  I got one of the Appenzell beers-- made with fresh spring water from the Alps-- and we waited.  She took our dinner order and brought us some bread.  We talked amongst ourselves, outdone entirely in decibels by the group of retirees that grew in size as it got closer to dinner time.  

And then it happened.  I’m not sure exactly how it started, but while we were talking, the group gathered started singing.  I thought at first it could be a prayer before eating, though no food was being served.  My parents and I looked at each other trying not to stare at the group, but intrigued by what was happening.  It was funny, as I had just asked my mom to take a picture of the group over my shoulder, as I thought they were so adorable (I have an affinity for adorable old men and their stories).  

They had gone from their jovial lighthearted conversation, to a solemn harmonized tune in an instant.  

 

                                     

We sat and ate and listened - it was a wonderful experience.  When the waitress came back around, we asked what the story of these singers was, and evidently they are a group of "free singers" who come every Wednesday to sing.  Sometimes there are 10, sometimes there are 25.  They have been known to stay until 3 in the am singing.  It was something we never could have predicted in a hundred million years.  

For a longer video, click Appenzell Singers.  It's worth it, trust me :)

After each song, the group would trail off and return to energetic conversation and joke telling mixed with some healthy drinking.  Out of nowhere, someone would start the next song, and the rest would chime in.  It had an interesting balance as there were only a few women in the group - and more trickled in as the night went on, but it was a prevalently male chorus eliciting a rich tone to their songs.  

We sat and listened for quite some time, enjoying the experience that we stumbled upon this Wednesday night in Appenzell.  When the group was done with one song, my dad got up, magic red cloth in hand, and wanted to 'pay back' the group for listening to them for so long.  For those of you who know my dad, you know what's coming... the magic trick.  Sidenote: my dad is one of those wonderful travelers who thinks that everyone speaks English in some way, and they all find him to be incredibly funny.  Let me just tell you, that his 'humor' does not translate all the time, and this was a prime example of it.  Translating through the waitress, he told the group that he wanted to repay them for the entertainment they provided, so he was going to buy a round of drinks-- pregnant pause for translation and eruption of applause.  Funny thing was, however, that my dad hadn't finished his statement as he intended to, he wanted to end with, "but it would be really expensive."  So now, he's got this group of elderly singers thinking he's going to buy them a round, and they think it's great - until he tries to explain to the waitress that he was not in fact going to do so.  

At any rate, watch here: dad's magic  (the files are too large to upload straight to this site)

They loved the trick, so he followed with another... go figure.  This guy was my favorite, watch his reaction to this next trick :)

Dad finished his trick, and decided that it was the right thing to do to buy the round.  The waitress went back, and we were back again on the hero's pedestal.  Once the drinks were poured, they started singing again, though this time it was a tribute to dad.

                                        

More cowbell? Nailed it.

We set off early the next morning, for a new town, Appenzell.  We were originally scheduled to travel to Chur, but after some additional research and hectic hotel reservations, we were on our way to Appenzell.  Couple things to note here, when using Booking.com (which my family and I have for years) make sure there is NO cancellation fee when you make a reservation.  Sometimes they’ve worked in fees and charges for cancellation at any point, and that always screws the consumer.  Do your reading.  Second, When in doubt about a pending cost for canceling at the last minute, contact the establishment and fill them in that one in your traveling group has fallen ill and they need to get to Zurich to get to the doctor.  (this did not actually happen, but we were facing a 200 CHF fine for canceling).  We were assured that we would not be charged, and continued to plan for Appenzell.  

When reading about this particular city, the opening phrase was something to the effect of “the heart of cowbell country” which in fact it was.  I know there is some movie that promotes the line “more cowbell” but I don’t remember what it was for.  I guarantee you, no one in this region is searching for more cowbell - there are plenty to be found.  It’s a pleasant background tune to match the manure smell of the area.  I’m used to the manure smell, and usually it’s a bother, but this was different.  I was leaning my head out of the window of the train soaking it in - fresh Apline air, the bells, the scenery.  It was almost majestic.  There was a mix of lush green lands, rolling hills that bled into mountains, scenic Swiss cottages dotting the landscape, and cows.  Lots and lots of grazing cows.  You’d be surprised to note that they were perfectly normal cows - with some superpower that allowed them to graze peacefully at what seemed like a 45 degree slope.  Really, it seemed as if they should have two short legs and two long legs so as to balance comfortably on these hills.  It was really incredible to see.  I have over 200 pictures of the countryside - all of the same thing... cows, fields and cottages.  Enjoy.  

Laundry update...

So I joked when I returned home from the dry cleaner that I had given our laundry to a complete stranger.  Which, in essence, I did.  All I had was a small purple piece of paper that had a 17 written on it, and crossed off, and a 5 written below that.  THAT was my claim ticket?  Yeesh.  So, when it was a little past 5 the next day, I had my mom walk up the hill with me to the dry cleaner.  It was about a 20 minute walk up, with mom asking every stop light, "is that it?" pointing off into the distance.  Finally, we arrived at the small shop, and I smiled widely and presented my "receipt" (the purple paper with the 5 on it).  The woman, same as the day before, looked at it, was confused for a second, and then said, "Ahhhhhhhhhh. American."  She proudly removed our stack of folded laundry from the shelf and put it into a bag for us.  It was heavy and not as easy had I brought my own bag with, but they smelled like fresh cut flowers, so I was pleased.  No more 30 hours in the same clothes-sitting in a dirty plane seat- walking through the streets of Zurich- not changing before going to bed smell that they had possessed before.  I returned the smile and we were on our way.

It wasn't until later that night, after I had done some reading and some computing that I decided to sort out the clothes.  I torpedoed dads pairs of socks at him one by one, and gave him back his "warm" shirt (I would argue any shirt when layered three times can be warm) and went to give my mom back her pants.  I went to give her back.... wait.... where.... what?  There were no black pants to be found.  What the?  How was it possible that we did not get ONE item out of my big load of clothes back?  And why did it have to belong to my mom?  ARGH!  Why couldn't it have been something of mine?  By this point, it was too late to go back.  Dangit.  Dangit.  Dangit.  Friends don't let friends give their laundry to strangers.  #fail.

This is for the birds.

The next day, we got up at a leisurely time as it was still overcast, and no real rush to go anywhere.  I tend to pack the days full with tours, activities, shopping and sightseeing.  My retired parents, would a.) rather stop and play with dogs he finds along the way- wouldn’t matter where he went or ended up -- or b.) look at decoratively packaged chocolates to give as gifts or re-create on her own -- are not usually ready for the days I have planned, so this stop in Lugano was more their speed.  

Looking for ideas for wrapping :)

admiring the produce

You can't  tell the slope of this street - but it was intense!

We had spotted a Dotto (tourist train - which are my favorite thing in life) the day before, and there was a boat cruise, so you guessed what was on my plan for the day.  We started off with the train after admiring the shops on our way down to the lake.  The tourist train was not fast, but brought you to both funiculars that went up to the mountains on either side of Lugano.  Since there was overcast weather, there was no need to go up the funicular, but the trip on the Dotto was wonderful.  

After finishing on the train, we returned to some of the places we’d passed while on the train, but this time we were prepared.  We had stopped at the grocery store and bought an ENTIRE loaf of bread for my dad to feed to the birds.  He had been looking forward to this activity since the night before.  We’d sworn we would remember to snag a roll from breakfast and bring it with, but we all forgot.  So, a trip to the grocery store was a necessity.  My dad rarely asks for anything while traveling, he just kind of follows in tow.  When he expressed an interest in connecting with the birds, we knew it was a must.  Since we had time before the boat came, it was perfect.  He was in his happy place - the best part of the trip for him thus far.  

The boat ride was nice.  It was a bit rainy still so we didn’t get off where we had originally planned, but that was okay.  We cruised around lake Lugano and got to admire the hillside homes and small villages each time asking, “how in the heck do they get there?”  There was no evidence of roadways connecting the different villages, so it must be by boat. 

Lugano

We had to stop at a grocery store to get food for the train ride the next day.  If we haven’t met, (though why would you be reading this if we hadn’t met) you don’t know that I’m a bit of a control freak.  I need to be able to have some semblance of control over when I can use the bathroom and when I can eat and drink.  As a result of this, I always have a snack in my bag for a day of touring, and I carry a plethora of beverages with me on public transportation-- many times with a sandwich just in case (it’s the inner Hungarian in me).  I also need to have a back up drink in case I finish the original drink - so I won’t be empty handed in case a situation may arise.  My mom said to me at the grocery store, “nothing looks appealing, I’ll just risk it” and I had a small heart murmur on the spot.  I quickly responded by packing the basket full of things as if the apocalypse were coming and I had to feed a family of 10 for the future.  She rolled her eyes and we headed home. 

Laundry in Lugano

Since we had some down time that afternoon, I decided that I was going to try and get some laundry done.  Not an absolute necessity, but would be convenient to get my jeans cleaned and the clothes I traveled on the plane with.  My dad also wanted his socks washed, and my mom threw in a pair of pants.  I looked in the hotel information, and they would gladly do my laundry - for 8 CHF a shirt (almost $9.00) and so on, so I decided I’d find a laundromat.  I had googled the word for laundromat and punched the word into my apple maps app-- and two showed up nearby.  So off I went, this time UP hill away from the lake, into the more residential area of Lugano.  After about a 15 minute walk, I came upon the first address I had retrieved.  No luck - closed on Mondays (as many shops were in this country).  So on I forged-- continuing up hill.  After about another 5 minutes, laundry bag in hand, I came to the second address I had.  There was one lady inside and she didn’t speak a lick of English.  I showed her my jeans and the package of laundry detergent my mom had given me.  I pointed at myself,  made the action of putting coins in a machine and proceeded to make a washing motion -- which I don’t know if you knew this, but it’s vigorous movement of your hands while swirling a pair of jeans around on the countertop -- to which she responded “no possible.”  Hmmm.  Okay... clearly this was a dry cleaner, and they HAD to wash clothes too, right?  She looked at me and said, “moment.”  Out from behind the counter she pulled a large blue Ikea bag and put all my clothes (and dads and moms) into the bag.  She weighed the bag and told me it was so much money per kilo.  I had 3.5 kilos, and it would cost me 28 CHF ($30).  Great, sure, yep, let’s do this.  I paid her in cash; she denied my Visa (despite the fact that there was a Visa sticker stuck on the front of her cash register) and she wrote 17h (5 o’clock) on a piece of paper.  I said “ok” and off I went.  As I was walking back down the hill, I began to wonder, “did she mean pick things up BEFORE 5 or AFTER 5?  Would I actually get the clothes back?  Would I be able to find the place again tomorrow?  Would she be the one to help me, or would someone else not speak English and have no idea what I was doing there?”  Oh well... hopefully I’d get the laundry back the next day, or I’d have no pants other than the leggings I was wearing.  #fail. 

She called everybody and their brother to see if they could speak English to me - how nice.

This was the shop.  I took a picture so I could make sure I remembered where it was :)

Are You a Rule Follower? I AM!

Our hotel in Lugano was in the mid point of the hill - the funicular bringing people down to the lakeside leaves from the train station, 100 feet up.  So, we could walk 100 feet back up to go 300 feet down, or just amble down the winding streets lined with shops.  You guessed it, we shopped.  On our route, we passed a residential building with a guard dog dutifully watching those walking by.  Of course, my dad has to stop and engage with the dog.  Luckily, the german shepherd found him to be a non threat, and didn’t react to his advancements and whistles.  Oh dad... always with the animals.  

We eventually got down to the lakeside and wandered for a bit before landing at our safe place, McDonalds.  We thought we’d get a “cheap” dinner and seek out something more Swiss or Italian the next day as it was already afternoon.  The joke was on us however as we AVOIDED the wraps that burned us in Lucerne and ordered McChickens and a burger.  Grand total 35 Swiss Francs, or approximately $40.  yeesh.  One good thing about having purchased something at the lakeside McDonalds is that you’re given the code to the bathroom that is otherwise locked to non-patrons.  All three of us took our turns punching 2-2-1-0 to access the customer only bathroom.  I suppose you could consider it a perk for our $40 meal.  

As we sat and finished up our meal, there was a group of 5 women who came in from the outside just to use the bathroom.  As they were not customers, they did not have the code.  We watched as they looked discerningly at the code pad on the door, looked at each other and tried punching in random numbers.  They looked around confused, and didn’t know what to do  After about 3 minutes, a man (a customer of the establishment) came and punched in the code to use the mens room.  Again, quiet mumbling and looks were exchanged among the women.  All the while, my mom is saying that we should give them the code to get in.  For some reason, I had a visceral reaction to this, and insisted that it was NOT okay to hand out the code to those who had not paid to use the restroom.  Right?  I’m right aren’t I?  I have purchased my share of small items at McDonald’s and other fast food places around the world, knowing that with that purchase came the ability to use their restroom.  Why couldn’t they buy a Coke or something small to justify their usage?  While this is happening, a restaurant worker went into the mens room and came out - we cf course thinking he was checking for cleanliness or something.  Then, out of nowhere, my mom gets up and goes over to punch in the 2-2-1-0 for these ladies.  WHAT?!  How could you betray those of us who have purchased something?  Funny thing is, the code no longer worked.  The McDonalds employee CHANGED THE CODE!!!!!  HA!  Now you can’t breech the bathroom you free-loaders.  Victory was mine.  The bathroom remained for customers only... for now anyway.   

Hotel Federale, Lugano

When we arrived in Lugano, we referenced our Booking.com map of where our hotel was - and it looked super convenient from the train station.  It was the next block over, with just one small turn to make.  However, maps are only 2D and don’t show the elevation and change that occurs when your hotel is in fact one block away, but 100 feet down.  As we exited the station, we could read the name of our hotel, on its roof.  Hmmm.  Following the lead of the crowd, we started down the switchback ramp that led us to the front door of the hotel.  I ran with two big luggage pieces knowing that all they could do is crash into the railing - but evidently it was pretty funny to watch from behind -- my pink bag bouncing on my back as I trotted down hill chasing two suitcases.  

This is a video I took of the steep nature of the ramps I rolled the luggage down - at race pace :)

Zermatt to Lugano. What a ride!!!

We left Zermatt early and headed off to Lugano - another out of the way excursion for most Americans traveling through Switzerland.  It’s in the far southern tip of Switzerland, over a large portion of the Alps- less than an hour from the Italian border.  It took us six hours and four train changes- but at this point, it’s all a part of the experience, right?  We have a pretty good working relationship with each other in terms of navigation of train stations and getting our luggage on and off.  It’s easy enough when the luggage rack is near the door and is empty, but proves to be more of a challenge when other people have chosen to transport luggage on the same train as we are.  The nerve of some people.  

It was a long day of travel, but with each train change, the terrain changed a bit and we went from snow capped alpine peaks to tree covered mountains with palm trees at the base.  We went through a 10 mile tunnel, and over and through some of the most beautiful lands we’ve seen.   

all aboard the Glacier Express.

Pretty sure if I were these cows, I wouldn't stand on the airport runway...

Yup - this is my life. 

yeah - the selfie in full effect.  Bless the Alps. 

What's in a Language?

On one of the train rides we were on, I was talking to my mom about the culture of Switzerland.  What was I going to buy for souvenirs for the folks back home?  Army knives?  Probably not.. Cowbells?  Doubtful.  What else was “Swiss”?  Cheese?  Chocolate?  It’s interesting the history behind the country.  There are three main languages spoken- French, Italian and German (Swiss German, though High German would work I suppose).  Not to mention the amount of people who speak English too.  I was surprised at the fluidity with which the Swiss transitioned between languages - greeting with an Italian “Buona Sera” followed by a French “Merci” after a purchase, and a German “Aufwiedersein” as we left.  Now, obviously those are the easy phrases that anyone can pick up.  But, when asked, many spoke all three languages semi-fluently if not with full fluency.  What an incredible skill, one that I envy with all my heart.  Quite frankly, I felt more uncomfortable linguistically on this trip than I have in a long time.  I felt in a constant state of language confusion -- what do I say?  Which do I choose?  I was often so confused that I either answered in garbled English or soft Hungarian.  Really?  Hungarian?  Oh well.  What can I say? (do you see what I did there- say... what can I say-- this post is about language!!!)

Good thing the menu was in Italian, translated to German on the next line.  Evidently German is the language of the two that uses capital letters. 

I Can Barely Afford to Breathe Here!

We spent some time wandering and looking at the different architecture of the area - it was the Switzerland I had been hoping for.  Chalet like cottages, rustic outdoor decorations, flowers blooming from balconies- in my mind quintessential Swiss culture.  In this town however, there was an air of tourist trap about it.  It was expensive to stay this time of year, when only 10% of the slopes are open for skiing, and many of the hiking trails have been closed to prepare for winter.  There were “mid season” sales throughout the town, but we weren’t quite sure which season we were in the ‘mid’ of.  There were plenty of people in the town, but I can only imagine the wealth that pours through the streets during the busy ski season.  Seriously, the train station opened to a North Face store, which was bookended by a Patagonia and Cartier stores.  Really?  Where’s the tourist gift shop?  I can’t afford any of this stuff...  

Cowbells vs. Mountain Goats

What a blessing that we had gone up the mountain as soon as we did upon arrival.  The next day, we woke up to overcast skies - so much so that we couldn’t see the Matterhorn, which was visible from our hotel room the night before.  Mom and dad got up and went to church, and we met afterwards for another walk of the town.  Actually, I should clarify, mom and I shopped through the town (though things are REALLY expensive in Switzerland) and dad stood under store awnings, facing the mountains, looking for animals.  He claims he saw four mountain goats - and I suppose I believe him, but I found much cooler things in the shop that sold cowbells and chocolate :) 

Dad looking for mountain goats... 

Trying to communicate with a cat who clearly doesn't want to.

Ride to Zermatt

After a beautiful train ride (using the glacier express - one of the most scenic railways in Switzerland, and I would argue all of Europe) we arrived in Zermatt.  This is one of the most out of the way destinations one could find in Switzerland, at the same time one of the most picturesque as the Matterhorn towers above it.  It was a bright beautiful day, and as per the advice of our train conductor, we took advantage right away.  We scooted off to our hotel (a 100m jaunt from the train station) dropped our luggage, left dad for a nap and headed to the Gornergrat - the train that ascends from the town to a panoramic view of the Alps and the Matterhorn.  

It was 60+ degrees out, so we left the hotel with just our long sleeve shirts on.  We arrived at the ticket station, and I noticed the celsius reading of the temperature at the top of the mountain.  It said 6.  I didn’t know the exactly translation other than to say that that was cold.  I ran back to the hotel and grabbed jackets for us both - thankfully.  As we returned to the ticket booth, we weren’t exactly sure the process for boarding the train until a nice young woman said “you get on here, and have the opportunity to get off at different spots along the way.”  She was a scientist, in Switzerland working for two weeks.  She had done the Gonergrat before with her mother, but it was cloudy and they weren’t able to see much from the top.  She hailed from southern California, and had layered adequately for the journey to the peak of the Alps.  We had an enjoyable conversation on our way up, her filling us in on tidbits of information we didn’t know about the area.

At the top, it was cool, but we Minnesotans were ready for it.  I ended up peeling layers after a while and enjoying the sun at the top of the mountains.  We could see for what seemed like miles - glaciers, lakes formed from melting snow, peak after peak of alpine mountain. We were let off at a hotel - go figure, a hotel at the top of the Alps - with a view to die for.  Glad we weren’t staying there as it was a haul and a half to get anywhere, but it was a nice concept.  Beyond the observation deck, there was a higher area to view from - so Morgan (our new friend) and I decided we’d head up that way.  It was up a bit with a climb using a rope for assistance.  I figured that as a snow native, I didn’t need the help, but the sun mixed with snow made for a slushy slippery experience.  My New Balance shoes weren’t going to be enough to launch me up the hill.  Rope it was.  

Mom and Morgan!

From the top, there was again a wonderful view- can you go wrong at an altitude of 12,000 feet looking through the sunshine to the Alps?  As I came back down the rope-slope, I had to swat my right arm at something - what the heck?  I looked back at the critter that I had just encountered, and noticed it was something I had never seen before - prior to last night.  After dad’s encounter with the nun and dog, and the hummingbird moth, he googled a picture and explained how the critter worked - he had watched it for at least 45 minutes after all.  How in the heck was a hummingbird moth at the top of this mountain we had come up?  There wasn’t any vegetation, there weren’t any other animals - I had no idea.  But, it was like dad was up there with us - enjoying the sites. :)