Christmas in the Sea of Clouds (or the Swiss & French Family Reno-Weber)
“Up here, it’s paradise. Down there is Switzerland.”
Christmas was our first booking as we started this adventure. Theresa had a vision of skiing in the Alps. I had a vision of a sauna and a hot tub in a cute little mountain town. Even our wildest ideas could not have matched the reality.
But before we got to enjoy, he had a few karmic hurdles to jump through. The transition a Cold War-focused Berlin to a Holocaust-focused Dachau to Bavaria's iconic fairytale castles was jarring.
Switzerland's fortress-like mentality, like Malta's, had constantly shifting requirements. A day before we left Germany moved from the nice list to the naughty list as a country of origin, and we suddenly need PCR tests immediately before crossing the border and antigen tests immediately after. We scrambled to comply, PCR tests becoming increasingly expensive and time-consuming to get as the demand increases.
A late train pushed us off the trans-Europe rail lines and onto commuter rails (which we sorted with only a couple stops in the wrong direction). Rather than hard-eyed inspectors examining our documents with scanners that always make me think of some dystopian dictatorship of the future, a friendly conductor right out of a Swiss children's program helped us on our way. We ended up hopping off in Zurich, changing our rental car reservation (yeah technology) and driving the rest of the way.
Our Swiss hone was a chalet built in1766. Our delightful hostess, Angie, stressed several times the need to get chains for our tires, and she was right. The roads were hilariously windy and steep, if much better maintained and with more polite/cautious drivers than be Balkans or Crete or Sicily. In our driveway was mostly where we needed them, as evidenced by this delivery truck which didn't make it and had to be towed out.
Very glad this wasn’t us
Side effect of 18th century-era housing: not built for tall people.
The next few days were exactly as dreamed, snow-covered vistas of the Alps, dinners mostly in, with one memorable outing for “rosti" a local potato dish with one million variations, sort of like saying "salad" in the US. We went skiing two days, which was enough for one little Alp, and enough to get us warmed up again.
I think the highlight was the end of the second day. Ava, Sophia, and I hiked up after lunch to the "magic carpet" so that Ava could practice her S-turns (shortly before we converted her from boarding to the side of virtue and goodness). After a few runs, we decided to have crepes and hot chocolate at the cute little stand at the top of the course. Looking out over the breath taking view - onto what Ava called, "The Cloud Sea.”
Our hostess said to us, “Up here is paradise. Down there is Switzerland.” I could not have agreed more.
Christmas was a similarly delightful blur of snow-bordered winding roads, a cute town in walking distance, an easily accessible ski slope where we spent many happy hours exploring, and lots of cards/backgammon. My Mom and her friend Mona joined us for cooking, exploring the little town, and hot tub. We exchange a small number of lightweight presents. My mother cried.
Exactly as envisioned.
Or course, it’s an adventure, so it wasn’t without hiccups. The malaria pills that were shipped to us arrived the day after we left (after many, many hours on the phone with UPS). Our lovely landlord shipped them to us in Keyna, and according to the tracking software, they are still in transit. Our next stop was supposed to be Morocco, which closed its borders completely, leading to a frantic set of airline, housing, visa, COVID-related ad-libs that eventually got us to Barcelona.
