"Cows, goats...and Europeans"

I think I could live in Switzerland. The vibe is a homey one, people are friendly, the streets are clean (immaculate for the most part - a sense that one would be publicly shunned for littering), people are active and outdoorsy (the 2nd most active population on earth, next only to the Kiwis), public transportation is very efficient and well-used, I feel safe, I can find delicious organic/veggie food, and the chocolate really is that good...Living in Switzerland is quite contingent on also making a Swiss salary however (I would be below the poverty line here on my Lutherwood salary...) :)

I arrived in Lauterbrunnen on Saturday night, did some groceries, and then settled into my hostel and cooked dinner, alongside a likely well-intended American man, perhaps in his 50s, one of those people who seemed to garner quite a sense of fulfillment from hearing his own voice and imagining that I would want to spend my time here exactly as he had; he also lacked the self-awareness to actually ask me anything about myself, or consider that perhaps the difference in our respective statures (how's that for p.c. lingo?) could mean that we had different plans with regards to hiking in the Alps. He raved about the 1 hour easy stroll he had been on that day ("You really must do this"), informing me in hushed tones that along this walk I would see, "Cows, goats...and Europeans".

Little did he know, I in fact already had plans to spend the following day with a real-live European. Dani, who I had met at the Bern community, took the train to meet me in Lauterbrunnen on Sunday morning, and planned an 8-hour hiking route for us. With biting sarcasm, left-wing political ideals, great piercings, and gentle compassion and care, it was such a treat to spend the day with Dani. I looked at the proposed route - a 16km hike with a climb of over 1400m (from 800m to over 2200m), and then descending the same amount: act casual Liz, sure, 1400m, no problem, I do that everyday in Waterloo...
 
Lauterbrunnen is located in a narrow valley - when in town, one can see cliffs to the east and west, and snowy peaks to the south (including the famous Jungfrau, a peak of over 4000m). As Dani and I climbed out of the valley, we could see mountains in all directions.  Clear skies, cows, goats, and yes, my very own European. A memorable moment was when we sat down for lunch - Dani had said that he had made sandwiches, and I expected that he would pull out one for each of us.  He pulled out 7, in fact, of 4 different varieties: avocado puree, carrot/ginger, spicy egg salad, and mustard/olive/radish. Impressive, and suddenly my offering of chocolate, almonds, apples, and granola bars seemed quite weak. :)  At the peak of our hike, we were able to leave the trail in order to go hang out by a glacier for a while, watching the rocks on top that were poised to fall very carefully). As clouds began to come in above us, they also did below us, leaving us with a gorgeous view in-between these layers, and looking down into the "sea of fog" (the German language has a word for this, which we don't have in English), that had been our valley.

...

Below and above the clouds...

1400m, no problem, and these legs were sore when I woke up on Monday morning.  Requiring a no-less-beautiful but a bit less strenuous day for Monday, I had considered taking the famous train ride to the Jungfrau Bahn, the highest train station in Europe, with a beautiful view of the glaciers and the Jungfrau, and a price tag not for the faint of heart. Monday morning, I, with the help of Elizabeth and Stefan at the front desk of the hostel, decided that this money (a birthday gift - thanks, Dad!) could be spent on a few smaller things, equally beautiful, but without the expensive hype of this particular trip.   I was advised that many people find the view from the top of the Schilthorn equally, if not even more, breathtaking, as its position offers 360 degrees of mountain peaks (over 200 of them). The trip there also involves a few cable car rides (where at times, my positive self-talk went something like this: "If anyone can build a safe cable car, it is the Swiss". Repeat.) and the view was truly incredible. After walking loops around the terrace, watching swooping birds and paragliders, I decided to sit in the revolving restaurant, where I journalled for 1 1/2 hours (or, 540 degrees) and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu - a bowl of soup and a coffee (over $13).

I'm the one taking the picture, don't worry: View from Schilthorn

If there are any James Bond fans reading this, the cable car to the Schilthorn mountain was brought to the public's attention in the late 60s - Bond himself made this trek in "On her Majesty's Secret Service" (or so I am told, as I haven't actually seen a single James Bond movie I don't believe...) I managed to avoid all of the tacky touristy stuff pretty well, aside from the not-so-subtle "007" on my coffee mug...

Less than subtle

Monday also contained a couple of hours of leisurely walking (trying to gently coax my leg muscles back to life): the stroll back from the cable car in the evening, through the valley towards Lauterbrunnen, was so charming. Cows being herded, their bells ringing loudly as though they were church bells, waterfalls, the setting sun illuminating the autumn colours on the cliffsides...

And yesterday, more hiking, on a route planned by the lovely Elizabeth from the hostel, who became quite personally invested in my hikes (I think she took interest in me once she heard the route I did on my first day here - apparently this was impressive), to the extent that on Monday evening, when she saw me sitting at the laundromat from her apartment window, she came over to sit with me and help me plan my hike for the next day.  :)  The mornings are beautiful in Lauterbrunnen - the town has been enveloped in fog each morning when I have awoken around 8am, and by 10am, the clouds are starting to break up, but also still hovering over the valley, providing increasingly larger glimpses of the mountains and cliffs, until the blue sky and sun completely break through.  The hike was about a 5 hour trek - I walked up 500m (on the other side of the valley this time), and then took a cable car to help with the next 1000m (legs still a bit wobbly, and, this portion of the trail is known to be a bit dangerous and not recommended as a solo hike), for a gorgeous view of the northface of the Eiger mountain....

Morning clouds and fall colours

Dew and sunlight

Eiger Mountain

The Valley Hostel has been the perfect spot to hang my hat these past 4 nights -  incredibly clean, lovely rooms (with a balcony, even!), friendly staff, a gorgeous kitchen, and even cartoon cows and Swiss flags on my linen - the Swiss think of everything. :)  I head to Lucerne today, likely for 3 nights, and then it is on to Zurich.  Over this past while, I've really connected with my outdoorsy self, which I knew existed, but stays in hiding a good part of the time in Waterloo, as I go about day-to-day routines. I wonder if living close to water or mountains is in my future? Or, at the very least, if making hiking/camping (and so on...) needs to become a more intentional and regular part of life? I feel such a sense of peace and connection in these moments when I am surrounded by natural beauty, and outside of the noise of city life.

I've been thinking about the gift of solitude these past two days, as after the intense time at the community in Bern, and then my day of hiking with Dani, the solitary-ness of the past 2 days has felt quite pronounced. I notice how important this time on my own has become to me - I have always been an introspective creature, but carving out time deliberately to reflect and connect with myself has become even more vital (I ask myself, "Is travelling alone making me weirder?"). I crave this time, and I am fulfilled and energized by it. I feel as though the desire to connect with my inner-voice has been taken to a new level - that this is something that need not only be reserved for those deliberate moments, but can be a practice, moment-by-moment. I imagine that this is a life's work!  There are also moments where this solitude is challenging - I seek to run from it and distract myself from myself, times where I miss those closest to me so much that it actually physically hurts. I am reminded to stay present in the moment, and to offer care for myself very deliberately. In light of Thanksgiving, I am also reminded of all that I am grateful for - connections with others and solitude, the opportunity to be on this journey, the incredible beauty of my surroundings.  It is all almost unbelievable. 

Walking around in gratitude...
With love,
xo