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Published: October 15th 2006
The Hotel Mittighorn
Probably misspelled, but it was Walter's. (Don't tell him the sphegetti was gross)
All is peace and love in this Paradise called Gimmelwald.
Everywhere but at Helmut's. Helmut runs a hostel and a hotel there. I made a big blunder, allowing the tourism office at the Bern train station make a reservation for me, and they arranged things at Helmut's. I was told the hostel was full, so the reservation was at the more expensive hotel. So I am hiking from Murren to Gimmelwald, and the first thing I come to in Gimmelwald was home sweet home! The Mittaghorn hotel, run by Walter. Nothing fancy, but quaint as can be. Big beautiful cows, with bells around their necks peering through the windows! This place was heaven. Some places, you know when you arrive you belong there. Such was the name of this place.
There was only one slight problem. My reservation was for another place, TWICE as expensive, down the road. Hmmm. Although I know I have arrived home, things aren't totally settled yet. Better explain this situation to the other place, then get settled at the Mittaghorn.
So I leave my large pack at the Mittaghorn, and head down the hill to the place where my reservation was, and to back out
As a child, I remember my dad telling me a story about a giant that was soo cruel that his garden froze all year around. When spring time came, everywhere the blooms were out, except in this giant's garden. This was how I felt as I approached this hotel.
Now I know what most readers may think: I made a reservation, and I am under obligation to stay there. But I just couldn't. It wasn't because it wasn't beautiful, it was. Even more so than the Mittaghorn. But it wasn't home. And with one night to spend in this paradise, I wasn't about to budge.
There to meet me was Helmut. With a fake smile he led me to the room that was prepared for me. Bleeaauuugh. As beautiful as it was, my heart sank. So I level with Helmut that I just don't feel like it's the place I should stay. This was paradise alright, but Helmut wasn't a happy camper. All of a sudden his countenance changed, and he became a monster. I stood my ground. He told me I was obligated, that he had had the chance to rent the room to others, but
The Hotel Mittighorn
I had it reserved. It was then I agreed to pay him a portion of the price of the room. I hastened the conversation, gave him the money, and left him standing there seething, thinking, another blot for the American tourist. But I just couldn't stay at Helmut's.
I went back to the Mittaghorn, and joined in with the happy family that was there. Oh, the spaghetti wasn't anything to write home about, MEATLESS at that, old Walter really wasn't much of a cook, BUT IF YOU TELL HIM THAT I WILL CALL YU A LIAR!
That night, and the next morning was what travel is all about. Kids herding the goats. Cows looking through the windows!!! Meeting people from all over the world... Australia, USA, other countries in Europe, South America. Ohhhh, did we have a time.
I am so addicted to travel.
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