Switzerland

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A long, reclusive stare; the young child had clearly never seen anyone different. I was in a small breakfast restaurant in a even smaller town in Switzerland. Four tables, packed together with strange 1950's themed tablecloth, collecting dust from the lack of hungry customers or the vacant life of the outside streets. His mother and father were cooking me up something from the menu that I had pointed to (ham and cheese...the only thing that looked somewhat familiar), as they did not speak English. The boy’s wondering gaze grew deeper when I murmured up a “hello.” Even this simple word he did not understand (or chose not to speak out of fright). After he half turned, startled from the strange words of this handsome (self-proclaimed) customer, he stirred the courage to continue his wandering gaze. Finally, the ice was broken; I made a funny face and the boy giggled. I then pointed to my soda and said “coca-cola.” After he studied the bottle, the strange man and then the bottle once more, he repeated in a broken tone “cocla-cloa,” and began to laugh. At this point I had grabbed his attention. I picked up my napkin and stated the name in which he repeated and laughed once more. After a long span of naming objects and having him repeat after me, we played a quick game of patty cake until my food came. I was very surprised to learn how little English is spoken in some regions of Switzerland and since my German (that particular region spoke German) was limited to a few movies and that one song from that band “Rammstein,” I had to do a lot of pointing and acting to get my way. At one point I was in a shop looking for shampoo and I found myself acting out a fake shower as if I was in a poorly cast Gillette commercial; I’m pretty sure the lady knew what I was talking about but chose to let me keep acting and laugh about it.

After a quick stop in Amsterdam (one in which I would have enjoyed much more if I was with my own friends...kind of like "the other" Vegas) I was on my way to Switzerland. A quick day in Basel and a day trip in Spiez, I would get to my final destination, Interlaken. The secret has been out on Interlaken way before I got there as it was filled with college students, adrenaline junkies and lots of Americans (sure...and Canadians). Biking through the windy roads and trails, hiking with some Canadian girls to Trumblebach falls, discussing Buffalo and American football with some brothers that grew up right where I went to college and of course, a great “80's” party on my last night. I had no 80's clothes so I went to the local thrift store and found myself very short shorts (with Mickey Mouse on them) and an ugly umbro tank-top (Im sure ill never live that one down).

A beautiful country, one filled with small towns, snow-capped mountains reflecting off turquoise blue lakes filled by tiny streams and waterfalls that filled the air with mist and a musical hymn. I found myself just sitting by the lake for hours, taking in the scenery and listening to all the sounds around me; the flowing streams, chirping birds and screams from the para-gliders up above. It was almost as good as any Radiohead album with the world as my "visual effects."

Switzerland was expensive...very expensive. It was so expensive I reluctantly cancelled my plans for Lucerne and made my way down to Italy. But, the air was fresh, the people friendly and the life was simple. The endless fields occupied by the desolate cattle, endless trails of woods thrown alongside the mountain ranges. In the end, I decided it would be the most beautiful place I had ever been....until I made it to Riomaggiore, Italy.

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