The Swiss Ace

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As I landed in the Chennai airport, i could not help but envy Roger Federer. It was not because he had won the Wimby title; on that count I was actually glad that finally the world of sports brought me some cheer post IPL and EPL, but because of what the few days in his homeland taught me. No, this is not an attempt to foul mouth India, but rather a painful insight at what might have been.



The strict rules in France meant a day was lost travelling to the home of the most gorgeous tennis player I’ve known-Martina Hingis. Luckily, the scenic landscape would buffer the toil. But a lot had to be said of the fabulous bus and the man behind the wheels on making the journey a lot less harsh on the body. That and dumb charades with my new mates there. Having a kid (relative to the others' ages) meant fun. Being among the eldest in the "juniors'" section was new, uncomfortable but cool.







We had 3 cool engineers who could name virtually everything that crossed us on wheels, a future bureaucrat with a wide outlook with whom I had several meaningful discussions, which was new, given every time I spoke politics, my friends would doze off or kick me and finally the kid, our not-so-subtle SBOAian out to spread his wings next year. The two gals on board were quiet and silent spectators. But when one of them took a dig at yours’ truly, I was proved wrong.





Hotel Terrace, Engelberg was just that, situated at a valley comfortably 100 feet from the ground, it was as good as I could have hoped for. Not as quaint as CDG Only Suites, it was still gorgeous in its own spacious way and its faster wi fi. After a quiet dinner the gang insisted we go to the disco. And sure enough, not willing to expose my dancing skills that resembled a frog electrocuted in the middle of dissection, I discreetly stepped away as the DJ played Bollywood hits and most people there did the jaing-jingu-jaing-jaga-jangu-jang steps. And post this, I was elevated by the gang to another level-that of a senior citizen. At that time it seemed a better option than to be remembered as the deep fried frog.





The next day was all about Mount Titlis. The cable car ride was steep but pleasant. After walking through ice caves, braving frost bites and Yetis, we got there. As we fought/played with eyes before trying the awesome winch, we found that that place had more Indians than Swiss. After “India…India” chants, we got back only to find two of our own had betrayed us. As the brotherhood forbids me from going into detail, we’ll just say, I’ll never have the courage do to the heroic acts attributed to my mates whose conquests add beauty to their FB pages.











A brief look at the bad things about what i am now confident will be my honeymoon destination, that if I get married. It is a known and often emphasized thing that the output should cost more than the input. Obviously, the Swiss guys missed that class. How else would you explain having to pay half as much to pee than to buy the water? Also i noted that water was thrice as expensive as petrol. Thank God our politicians didn't notice that on their way back from stowing away all that black money in the banks there. That and the fact that it was most definitely my country were the downsides for an otherwise fabulous country.
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From the heart</td></tr></tbody></table>



Between the freezing cold of Mount Titlis which was just as good as the Rohtang pass in India, and the warmth that embraced us in Lausen, we went to a place called Interlaken which the guide said was a waterfall. It was a lot more than merely being that. We were greeted by the sight of guys jumping off parachutes from helicopters that had us wondering if all that these guys did was enjoy life. The lift traced a slope as the man in charge said it was a private property open to tourists. Apparently, they had cut through a mountain to give that true sense of astonishment that had till then eluded me.
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Awesome!!</td></tr></tbody></table>



True, the paintings in Louvre were spell-binding. But this was something beyond words. As we watched Mother Nature in all her glory and fury flow through the rocks uninhibited, I was truly mesmerised by the sheer beauty of it all. With every droplet that bounced off the sturdy rocks, the amazement grew as we were taken into the heart of the limit conquered by humans. The spectacular sight cannot be reduced to words and such a treacherous act or rather even an attempt at that sacrilegious act of reductio ad simplicatis (forgive my dog Latin) would mean I’d rot in hell or even worse, marry an OGcian.
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In memory of the soldiers that perished with the uncanny resemblance to a guy married to an obstetrician.</td></tr></tbody></table>



After what seemed like 3 hours, the drug wore off and I fell asleep as our bus crossed borders to reach Germany. The bus ride, as mentioned earlier, was surprisingly pleasant. Earlier, on the way to the waterfall, a discussion on our education system arose after an innocuous statement wherein we came to terms with the fact that our schools are showing a deteriorating quality. When a friend mentioned that their syllabus has not been revised for decades and they still studied the stuff fit for museums, I was surprised. But another story had me shocked.



Dig this, a kid asks about square roots of two and three. But when posed a question on the root value of the next number in the series, he has trouble. That and the already known theory where a guy who can crack codes and hack systems has a poorer GPA than a girl that has trouble shutting the system down shows how the British still enslave us with their systems that, though out dated now, are duly followed and put us off track. True story…


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Rhine</td></tr></tbody></table>



In Germany, the cuckoo clocks and fossil watch made my day. Without much ado in Rhine, we got back to Zurich, just in time for our flight back home. Once inside, the 12 of us were left unattended by a rather forgettable air hostess. No complaints as I spent a great deal of time sleeping in the guiltily comfortable seat treated to IR’s melodies. After parting ways with the wonderful friends, I got into the last flight of an extremely memorable journey. Pathetic food, poor service and the memories of ‘what might have been’ made the hour long journey fly in a minute. Back in the familiar Chennai Airport, I was left to ponder a few things I had gathered from my short trip there.
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When the longer arm touches 12, a merry dance follows</td></tr></tbody></table>



With this I end my first attempt at a travelogue. Not sure if it was good, but it will be a long time before I go out on another holiday, for the fearsome picture of the Post Graduation entrance exams looms large and I am already reeking in guilt for the lost days, wondering how i am going to make up the lost hours. Hail our system that moans as to having a few specialists while ensuring that there are far more inadequacies in admissions to the very courses that it finds shortages in.

Lausen was different. Apart from the bridge, swans and more acts of heroism which by this time eluded only me and one bro, we called it a day as our parents went about shopping. To say that stuff here was expensive would be an understatement. Apparently, the guy adds the rent and the uniforms to the price. That and the innate nature to multiply by monetary factors magnified the expenses. After more games on the bus, we got back to our room with only one thing in mind- ‘These blokes are really friendly’



But the guys at Zurich airport proved me wrong as their attitude seemed to suggest that deep down there was some degree of unsorted complexity issues where we came across as 'people from the land of snakes and elephants'. And I should sadly add that what our guys do there doesn't quite do any good to erase the stamp they have falsely associated with us. But as my friend said, things are changing. I can't wait for it to happen, and happen fast.

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