The Bernese Oberland – the reason why I fell in love with Switzerland in the first place

Switzerland won my heart over in January 2005, on a trip we planned at the last minute for the long weekend of Three Kings Day (I was working in Italy, where we actually got the day off of work for it). My husband and I were both tired and stressed, but we managed to find a good hotel deal in Interlaken, so with little additional research we hopped on a train.

We spent the next four days in a snowy, Alpy wonderland that filled us with absolute joy just to be there. We bought regional transportation passes and spent the entire time exploring the cluster of tiny Alpine villages known as the Bernese Oberland. We traveled on cog-wheel trains, gondolas, and funiculars to the little towns, admiring the views and rejoicing in the snow. We ate fondue in adorable, rustic taverns, and drank beer in flimsy, busy tepee ski bars. We trudged around in our winter clothing that hadn’t been used in a long, long time. The trip was dubbed “best vacation ever” about 30 minutes after arriving, and held true to that title the entire time we were there.

Since moving to Switzerland, we have been back to the Bernese Oberland several times, but really not enough given how much we love it. I suppose everything loses a little bit of appeal when it becomes more accessible. Nonetheless, I couldn’t be more thrilled that we are spending the next week there, in an apartment we rented with some friends and my brother. Given how much snow Switzerland has gotten in the past couple days, I’m downright giddy for this trip to begin. It’s all I can do to not shriek with joy and dance around like a maniac. See you in a week!

Tags: Alps, Bernese Oberland, Interlaken, Switzerland, winter

The monks, the Jungfrau, and the mystery trip

This past weekend we were told to pack a bag and show up at the train station at 7:50 Saturday morning. On our packing list was hiking boots, a towel, and clothing for temperatures from -3 to 30 degrees Celsius (26 to 86 degrees Fahrenheit). The mystery trip was organized by the owner of the company where Scott works. Trips to the unknown have been biannual requirements for the employees for several years, but this is the first one where spouses were also invited along.

We were slightly disappointed to find out that the mystery destination was the Jungfrau, one of the highest peaks in Switzerland, only because we had been there before. Surprisingly, most of our traveling companions (who are almost all Swiss) had not. Apparently the Swiss think themselves too sophisticated for the ‘Top of Europe’, dismissing it as a destination for silly foreign tourists (like us).

When we changed trains in Interlaken, our group was joined by a Buddhist monk whom was good friends with the organizer of our trip. The monk had a small entourage of monks, nuns, and monks-in-training with him, many of whom were on this trip to find out how they do in high altitude environments. They are planning to climb a holy mountain in Tibet later this year. Their group included a 6-year-old boy dressed in a monk’s robe, with a waist-length braid of hair sprouting from the top of his otherwise shaved head. I was fascinated.

We switched trains a couple more times before arriving at Jungfraujoch, at 3500 meters, billed as the highest point in Europe reachable by train. From there we had sweeping views out over the glacier and the snowy Alps. We had lunch and then wandered through the Ice Palace and up to the Sphinx observation deck for more sweeping views of snowy Alps and glaciers.

I was fine with the altitude (while many of the Swiss and some of the monks complained of dizziness as soon as we arrived at the top). Fine, that is, until we started the uphill hike through the sand-like snow. In those types of situations, my body likes to have oxygen. Although the hike lasted for less than an hour, I felt like I had been walking all day by the time we reached our destination, a small hut decked out with some sweet snacks and beverages for our group. The return (downhill) hike was a piece of cake.

We then took the train down to Kleine Scheidegg, a small skiing outpost that consisted of a couple hotels and a handful of bars. We spent the late afternoon watching a World Cup game in the bar, and then had dinner with the group. Scott and I snagged seats at the monks’ table, as we were curious to pick their brains a little bit.

We spent most of the meal chatting with a young monk-in-training from Massachusetts. After learning a little bit about his life at the pagoda and what brought him there, I got to my real question: what’s up with the little kid monk? The answer was not disappointing. Turns out, he is the reincarnation of a monk. How do they know that? One, the master can recognize him. Two, before the old monk’s death, he had gone to a certain woman and asked her to be his mother. So when this woman bore a son, she immediately brought him to the pagoda and put him in the care of the head monk (as had been pre-arranged). And there you have it.

After dinner we caught the second half of the Italy – US game and then fell into bed exhausted. The next day we enjoyed another scenic hike (at an altitude where the air still contained oxygen in reasonable quantities), had lunch, and then headed back to Zurich. All in all, a very enjoyable mystery trip. I hope spouses will be invited along for the next one, too.

Tags: Alps, Bernese Oberland, Europe, hiking, Switzerland, travel

I know, I know, you’re tired of hearing about snow. Tough.

We just got back from a glorious long weekend in Mürren, an excessively adorable little skiing village in the Swiss Alps. To get there one must take an incline railway to a cog-wheel train to the town. Once you get to the town itself, the only way to get your luggage to your hotel is to drag it through the snow (which we did), or go get a giant sled from your hotel to put it on and push (much easier). Luckily it was only about a 5-minute walk to our hotel, even though it was completely across town.

We spent the majority of the time skiing on the fluffiest snow I’ve ever seen. The lifts were a few meters away from our hotel, and we could ski all the way to the front door. Scott had a blast snowboarding off-piste in knee-deep snow, and I was delighted to have so many different long easy slopes to choose from.

On the third day we rented little wooden sleds and sledded down to Gimmelwald, a village that made Mürren feel like a bustling metropolis. The Swiss do sledding the right way—none of this trudging up a hill to ride down for all of 5 seconds. We sledded on two different groomed runs, each taking about 20 minutes, and then took efficient Swiss public transportation (a ski gondola or cog-wheel train) back to where we started.

We also ventured up the hill to Piz Gloria, a revolving restaurant 3000 meters above sea level which offered, of course, breathtaking views of the snow-covered Alps. Apparently this revolving restaurant rose to international fame in some James Bond movie. The side of the gondola, all pamphlets about the restaurant, and every item in the gift shop made sure that I was aware of this James Bond movie connection (although they weren’t diligent enough to make me remember which one).

The après-ski locales offered by Mürren did not disappoint. The best meal we ate (well, the best one that didn’t consist primarily of melted cheese) was at Alpenruh. The casual atmosphere didn’t adequately prepare us for the elegant food and service we received. The view and the white Glühwein are also not to be missed.

We aren’t usually the types to vacation in the same place twice, opting instead to explore new places, but we have already talked about going back to Mürren. I think we’re even considering going next weekend, before the ski season ends… although maybe we’ll just stay home and rent a James Bond movie. I’ve never seen one.

Tags: Alps, Bernese Oberland, Mürren, skiing, sledding, Switzerland, travel, winter