The Land of Chocolate, Cheese, Mountains, and Three Languages I Don’t Speak

The true travelling has begun. After a month in Copenhagen – that much time in a beautiful, historic European city is enough to make me stir-crazy – I took a weekend to go to Interlaken, Switzerland, and go canyoning, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

My new favorite thing which I think America should adopt is the widespread use of the intercity night train. It’s pretty cool to go to sleep somewhere rainy and flat and wake up to sunshine and mountains.

I didn’t realize how much I miss mountains until I saw them again. Interlaken and everything surrounding it is absolutely gorgeous (or “gorges” if I wanted to go with a canyon joke, but that’s the kind of thing my dad would say so I’ll refrain). Here’s the link to my photo album to see all 93 pictures I took before my batteries died (I forgot to charge the replacements before leaving, or else I would have even more): http://www.flickr.com/photos/11691186@N05/sets/72157602132155608/

Switzerland is culturally divided into three parts: German, French, and Italian. Everything in stores is printed in at least two of those languages, often all three. Just like in Denmark, Swiss people all seem to speak English as well, making me again feel inadequate for being unable to speak four languages. Interlaken is in the German area near Jungfrau, “The Top of Europe.” My time there was limited, so immediately after checking into the hostel I asked the girl (warning: tangent ahead. Males have the term “guy” to fill the age gap between “boy” and “man” … what’s the term for women? I feel like if I said “woman” the implication would be that she was older than she was, but “girl” implies she was younger than she was. Anyway, after that tangent, I’ll just say that I’d guess she’s 21-22 and if anybody has a good term to use as the female equivalent of “guy,” I’d like to hear it) at the front desk for a good hike from the hostel. She pointed straight up what looked less like a mountain than a cliff with some trees on it and said, “there’s a restaurant on top of that mountain. The funicular that goes up there isn’t running, but there’s a trail you can take. It’s kind of steep, but the views are nice.” First, “steep” doesn’t do it justice. Second, neither does “nice.”

Day two is when I went canyoning. Canyoning (aka canyoneering), for those who don’t know, involves rappelling, jumping, swimming, and hiking down a river cut into bedrock (not the Flintstones’ city). For someone like me, afraid of both heights and water, it’s a great way to spend a Saturday. Given the water and rocks, I didn’t bring my camera. So, I apologize, this picture isn’t one I took myself. It is, however, from the canyon I descended, so I think I have the right to post it anyway. I considered photoshopping my face into it, but I don’t think I could pose with the proper, “holy shit, I’m going to die” expression that’s required.

A quick summary: Step one is rappelling 50 meters from a one-lane winding mountain road straight down into a river. From there, jump down into a pool where we received the warning, “tuck your legs. It’s pretty shallow, so if you don’t land on your back you’ll break something and helicopters can’t get to this part of the mountain.” I would have assumed the guides were screwing with our heads (after all, I’d certainly enjoy doing that), except that halfway down one of the girls hurt her ankle and the guides took turns carrying her the rest of the way. All told, it took about three to three and a half hours to descend – that’s all time in 34 degree water. Having a superb sense for irony, I made it safely down the entire river only to promptly slip and fall three steps onto dry land.

After getting back to Interlaken, I had a few more hours of daylight, so I took a ferry across Thunersee (Lake Thun). It was uneventful, but yielded more good pictures, so I’ll direct you back to my photo album instead of writing more on the subject.

One thing for UW people: I didn’t stay here, but the most famous hostel in Interlaken is Balmer’s. So I can take a ten hour flight and fourteen hour train ride, but I can’t get away from Balmer.

One great thing about souvenir shopping in a country famous for food: you can do your gift shopping in the grocery store.

I left Interlaken a bit early on my last day there (no hikes I could complete in the hours I had left) and spent the afternoon in Basel, where I had to change trains to get home. This is where I really wish I had my replacement camera batteries. Instead, I just stole a couple of pictures from the internet. The thing that amazes me about Europe is that even cities which are considered nondescript and are famous for chemical manufacturing more than anything else still have dozens of beautiful, historic buildings. I’ll bet that makes New Jersey jealous.

Ah, New Jersey. I’ve alluded in previous posts to people saying stupid things (i.e. “Los Angeles”), but I’ve had a few more encounters, so I think I’ll introduce a new recurring feature to my posts, titled “Are you trying to be funny, or are you really that stupid?” or “Oh, Jesus, I can’t believe you’re representing my country." Today’s featured subjects are four New Jerseyans I met while canyoning. I’ll attempt to recreate the conversations as accurately as possible. Really, I don’t think they need any enhancement.

The first one was between one New Jerseyan (NJ1) and one of the guides (G). We had to suit up in a cow pasture. This isn’t unusual, since almost everything in this part of Switzerland is either a pasture or a mountain that’s too steep to walk on.

NJ1: Oh my God, what did I just step in?

G: Looks like cow shit.

NJ1: Is that what that is?

G: We’re in a pasture. What did you think it was?

NJ1: A mushroom.

G: Um, no. Not quite.

NJ1: I can’t believe cows just poop anywhere. That’s so gross.

G: So, earlier, when I said to be careful not to step on landmines, what did you think I meant?

NJ1: Landmines.

The second conversation was between another New Jerseyan (NJ2) and the same guide.

NJ2: You know what’s weird? I haven’t seen any Swiss cheese since I got to Switzerland.

G: Have you seen any cheese since you got here?

NJ2: Yeah.

G: That’s Swiss cheese. All they have here is Swiss cheese.

NJ2: No, it didn’t have the holes in it.

Following the conversation the New Jerseyans had about how hard it was to find a McDonald’s in Florence, I’m afraid to ask what that guide thinks of Americans. I kind of wanted to pull him aside and say, “Just so you know, the rest of America looks down on New Jersey, too.”