Sept 20-21
We're leaving Beaune and heading to Switzerland today. I am feeling contemplative and quiet. The experience has taken on a different flavor for me, if you will. Some of it is prompted by Stephen's guidance and most of it is just me. For the first several days I found the humor in events, and people and challenges. Now however I find myself immersed in the meaning of this experience. Not all of you will comprehend that, because it’s not something you can fundamentally understand by “thinking” about it.
Don’t assume for a moment that I’m attaching meaning to events and interactions. Rather I’m extracting the meaning that is already present; I’m receiving it as a gift. It’s a hard way to live in the world, to be present in that kind of way because it comes with a lot of happy tears, and tears of simple gratitude. My sister Vicki will understand fully and no words would be necessary between us, just a look of recognition. I miss you sis.. So there have been quite a few tears as this experience carves and taps something deep in me. That will be my greatest souvenir.
I have so many photos, as all travelers do. Internet connectivity has been a real problem the whole trip. Our group is gelling and becoming like a friendly community. We know one another’s names now, as well as something about each other, and we dine together and stroll and we talk and laugh quite a lot.. For me there is far less worry now about negotiating the challenges of the city, the language, the currency, the time change. It’s nice to be part of a group right now. It’s a relief not to be stressed.
As we leave France and journey to Switzerland, the landscape changes dramatically. I am in the back of the bus and I can’t see over the seat in front of me and it’s bugging me. I want to see what is ahead. The colors change to a deep green. Deep valleys with quaint buildings come into view. I see white cows. A low lying layer of fog mists the base of the mountains. Are those the Alps? Stephen begins to tell us of Switzerland so in my heart, I leave France behind and I’m excited to embrace this beautiful place.
Stephen shares with us a deeply personal story about a loss he suffered. He weaves the details with the emotion and even he is overcome. I look around me, and many in our group have eyes brimming with tears. Loss is a universal experience. I am honored by his trust. My heart breaks a little and I weave and link my human experience with his. We all did.
At a lunch stop in Lindau, we encounter another interesting restroom experience. It's the "human hygiene" vending machine. I don't know who named it human hygiene, it was really the XXX adult shop vending machine. We all crack up and grab our cameras. Talk about a way to lighten the mood! Hysterical! I'm sitting on the toilet, and Julie in the next stall announces, "Look out everybody, there's a big ass spider hanging from the light!" I look up and sure enough, there is a spider the size of a quarter suspended a few feet above our heads. I grab my camera.
Back on our Lindau walk, Steve points out a church that says "Soli Deo Gloria" on it. "Glory to God alone." This strikes a cord in me of course, and rips my heart out. I'm not here by accident.
We reconvene as a group and do our "buddy check" as the weather turns from drizzle to downpour. Many in the group bought cheap umbrellas in Lindau, and some were cost and space conscious and bought plastic ponchos, which look like 30 gallon garbage bags with hoods. Awesome! Bev and Charlie and Mike and his wife Harri are all walking around in their rain splattered ponchos laughing and joking and I didn't get a pic of that, darn it. This foursome consistently has us cracking up. Stephen never wears a jacket and he's too cool for an umbrella or garbage bag, plus he has his leather sandals on as always, so he gets drenched. He's unflappable however and he just gets more animated. Love it!
Soon we arrive in Laterbrunnen, Switzerland. It’s magical. I pass signs pointing to Zurich and I think of Andy, the guy I sat by on the plane to Amsterdam. He was heading to Zurich to hike alone in the Alps, and I was wishing I’d get to see him again; he was so ambitious and fun. I hope Andy is safe and his dreams are coming true. I worry that he didn't have warm enough clothes, but that's the mom in me, always protective.
Stephen shares with us a deeply personal story about a loss he suffered. He weaves the details with the emotion and even he is overcome. I look around me, and many in our group have eyes brimming with tears. Loss is a universal experience. I am honored by his trust. My heart breaks a little and I weave and link my human experience with his. We all did.
At a lunch stop in Lindau, we encounter another interesting restroom experience. It's the "human hygiene" vending machine. I don't know who named it human hygiene, it was really the XXX adult shop vending machine. We all crack up and grab our cameras. Talk about a way to lighten the mood! Hysterical! I'm sitting on the toilet, and Julie in the next stall announces, "Look out everybody, there's a big ass spider hanging from the light!" I look up and sure enough, there is a spider the size of a quarter suspended a few feet above our heads. I grab my camera.
Back on our Lindau walk, Steve points out a church that says "Soli Deo Gloria" on it. "Glory to God alone." This strikes a cord in me of course, and rips my heart out. I'm not here by accident.
We reconvene as a group and do our "buddy check" as the weather turns from drizzle to downpour. Many in the group bought cheap umbrellas in Lindau, and some were cost and space conscious and bought plastic ponchos, which look like 30 gallon garbage bags with hoods. Awesome! Bev and Charlie and Mike and his wife Harri are all walking around in their rain splattered ponchos laughing and joking and I didn't get a pic of that, darn it. This foursome consistently has us cracking up. Stephen never wears a jacket and he's too cool for an umbrella or garbage bag, plus he has his leather sandals on as always, so he gets drenched. He's unflappable however and he just gets more animated. Love it!
Soon we arrive in Laterbrunnen, Switzerland. It’s magical. I pass signs pointing to Zurich and I think of Andy, the guy I sat by on the plane to Amsterdam. He was heading to Zurich to hike alone in the Alps, and I was wishing I’d get to see him again; he was so ambitious and fun. I hope Andy is safe and his dreams are coming true. I worry that he didn't have warm enough clothes, but that's the mom in me, always protective.
Upon arrival to our destination, we board this fast moving bright yellow train. It’s different from anything I’ve ever seen in the US and I love it immediately. Everybody is laughing and smiling. We are happy! The train jostles us around while we take in the view, which is amazing. The air is crisp and clean. When the train stops, Stephen shows us on a big map where we are. He takes care to point out a town called Mannlichen, which he thought the dirty minded folks would appreciate. I do. He keeps us prepared and oriented. Of course I am disoriented, but whatever, he's not a magician.
Soon we arrive at Hotel Faulken in Wengen, which is even more amazing. A wonderful family runs it and we get settled in quickly. I carry my 38 pound backpack up the stairs to the 3rd floor and can’t get my door unlocked with the old fashioned brass key. I try and try and can’t figure it out. It strikes me as funny and new, and I laugh. This is just plain fun. Even the door locks are an adventure! The door eventually opens sort of by accident and my room is incredible. I have two beds with giant white duvets and a window that opens to a spectacular green vista with cottages in the foreground and the Swiss Alps in the background. There are no screens so I open the windows wide and stick my head out. Incredible! Maybe I’ll sleep in both beds, just for the hell of it. Why not?
Soon we arrive at Hotel Faulken in Wengen, which is even more amazing. A wonderful family runs it and we get settled in quickly. I carry my 38 pound backpack up the stairs to the 3rd floor and can’t get my door unlocked with the old fashioned brass key. I try and try and can’t figure it out. It strikes me as funny and new, and I laugh. This is just plain fun. Even the door locks are an adventure! The door eventually opens sort of by accident and my room is incredible. I have two beds with giant white duvets and a window that opens to a spectacular green vista with cottages in the foreground and the Swiss Alps in the background. There are no screens so I open the windows wide and stick my head out. Incredible! Maybe I’ll sleep in both beds, just for the hell of it. Why not?
We meet downstairs, and everybody is excited. Stephen tells us about the plans and many activities we can choose from tomorrow. Steve asks how many people want to take the gondola to Kleine Scheidegg and do an easy hike? Everybody does, I think, but they don't trust his description of "easy." There are more options and we hear about them all. That night we share dinner in the dining room starting with a cheese fondue tasting. It was so delish. Had we only had more and more and more fondue, we’d all have been more and more and more happy. Yum! But we are happy anyway.
The next morning after we pull ourselves out from under our duvets (which some found too hot) we rise early for adventure day. We stick together like super glue now, like family. We train to Kleine Scheidegg and the hike is fun and so Stephen gets a brownie point. We get the option afterwards to spend 110 Euro to venture higher into the Jungfrau the “Top of Europe.” I am feeling cheap so I decide not to go. Carl Jung, the Swiss psychologist and psychiatrist, pops into my mind. I think about his theoretical concepts, and decide that the combination of Jung and Jungfrau is some sort of sign to me, and that I should permit myself to enter into my Jungian place of introversion for a few hours. All the extroverts go LOL! Most have a great time, but some wind up suffering a little from the wind chill and altitude. Still everyone seemed glad for the experience.
I head back down on the train and into town with Cindy and Johnny, and it’s a bit of a ghost town. Primarily there are empty restaurants and athletic stores. We eat some weird food, not too memorable. There was mayo and mustard in big tubes, like toothpaste. Hopefully we will get a good dinner. That night we aren’t disappointed, when we share a buffet dinner feast. Holy cow, these people can COOK! Tonight more duvet, then off to Munich!
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