The Most Beautiful Place in the World

       My excuse for not having written in three weeks is that we had company. Never mind that the company was only here for one of those weeks, that I had plenty of time for pleasure reading during that time, or that I wasted at least as many minutes on Facebook as it would have taken me to write a blog. I don't have another good excuse, so I'll play the company card.
       I enjoy having company. First of all, having guests makes me feel like I belong here. After all, I usually have a better handle on local attractions, restaurants, transportation, etc. than visitors from other countries. Sometimes I even speak more French than they do. Guests also provide an excuse to pull out the traditional Swiss recipes: tartiflette, raclette, fondue. And having people to entertain means that we get to do entertaining things, such as climb the steps at Saint-Pierre Cathedral, tour the chocolate factory in Gruyères, and eat ice cream at least once a day. Another of our favorite things to do with guests is to use the Carte Journalière train passes, which allow the holder to go anywhere on Swiss public transportation during a 24-hour period. This time, we took the train to Lauterbrunnen, a town in the Bernese Oberland famous for (probably) having inspired J.R.R. Tolkien's drawings of Rivendell. It's true, anyway, that Tolkien hiked there and that he drew pictures of the mountains and waterfalls surrounding the Lauterbrunnen Valley that look uncannily like the pictures he later drew when creating Middle Earth.
       The Lauterbrunnen Valley is the most beautiful place I have ever visited. They say that it has 72 waterfalls, and I can vouch personally for at least half that many.

The Valley

       Lauterbrunnen is beyond Interlaken, a 3 - 4 hour train trip from Geneva, depending on the route. On the way there, we took the more scenic (longer) route, which chugged through Alps for most of the way. We arrived at the Lauterbrunnen train station in time for an early lunch. I was glad I had packed picnic stuff, because the grocery store was closed for one of those holidays that were originally part of the church calendar, but are now just excuses for everyone to take the day off.

The view from the bench where we ate lunch. 

     We bought drinks (and pastries, of course) at a bakery, which was open despite the holiday. The Dutch woman behind the counter advised us that the best thing to do with the few hours that we had in the area was to walk to Stechelberg, a town about 4 miles down the valley. She didn't mention that the famous Trummelbach Falls were on the way, but about 40 minutes out of town, the yellow "Wanderweg" sign directed us to a detour leading to those falls. I had read that the falls were inside a mountain and reached by a lift of some sort. I couldn't quite picture what that meant, but we decided to check it out. A short ride on what was basically a slanty elevator took us about halfway up the falls; then we were on our own with steps. The falls are, literally, inside the mountain. They are a sight that is unique, powerful, and a bit scary. I was glad the kids were old enough to be smart about staying away from the edge. 

Inside the mountain with Trummelbach Falls

The power of the water was amazing.

And the noise

Looking down on a waterfall

Looking up to the daylight

       I wondered at first how people had discovered the falls, seeing as they are, indeed, trapped inside the mountain itself. When we exited, however, it became obvious. The noise of the falls, thunderous up close, was clearly audible from the outside as well. 

       After the detour, we continued our walk toward Stechelberg. The sun was shining -- as it had not been in Geneva for close to a week -- and we paused to take some photos with the locals.

Johanna poses with her new friend.

The cow was not interested in looking at the camera.

       Although Stechelberg is not a big place (pop. 255, says Wikipedia), we had a bit of trouble finding the local ice-cream store. Some friendly Brits led us to the right spot, and we bought large sundaes to celebrate the walk, the sun, the cows, the falls, and the day. Then, time becoming short (and some legs becoming sore), we boarded a yellow Post bus back to Lauterbrunnen and the train. Eric wondered if the people who live in the valley appreciate the splendor with which they are surrounded. He thinks that, to them, it might become simply background noise.

They might be looking at Staubbach  Falls, one of the highest waterfalls in Europe, here.

The wildflower-filled fields added to the beauty.

Cows graze at the bottom of another fall.

I don't believe it for a second.

The Kind of Week it Has Been

       You know the kind of week when you go to the store to buy a stick of gum for a science experiment, only to realize that sticks of gum are a rare commodity in Switzerland (gum here comes in pellets). Then you arrive back home to find that actually, that experiment isn't for two days, and what you really need is an egg.

       Or the kind of week when you drive 45 minutes to the big sports store and learn, upon reaching your destination, that May 1 is a national holiday in France, and the store is closed.

       Or when you are halfway to the bank and realize that you can't deposit a check without your husband's passport.

       Or when the landlord tries to make you feel like the mold in the basement is your fault because you didn't leave the windows open (in the winter?).

       Or when you summon up all your courage to make doctor appointments for two of your children, having researched carefully how one says "check-up" in French (and written down your telephone number so you don't forget it in a panic). Then, when you take the children to the office, you somehow get shuffled out after a short (though pleasant) conversation and without the doctor even looking at child number 2. And, while it is perfectly acceptable that the doctor's English is limited (I realize that I am living in a foreign country), and that this, combined with your limited French, probably is what caused the lack of the check-up you had so courageously requested, it is a little odd, given the fact that the office advertises itself as "resolutely bilingual." On second thought, they probably meant French and German, so it isn't odd at all.

       That is the kind of week it has been around here. It's been the kind of week that makes me want to hop on a plane and head back to America . . . or maybe just hide under the covers for a week or so.

       I have been debating whether I should wallow in a simmering stew of pique or try to rise above the annoyances of life. In an effort to tip the scales toward rising above, and in the "glad game" spirit of Pollyanna, I am going to share a few people/things for which I am thankful. In order to preserve anonymity and to make the whole thing more whimsical, I have decided to give everyone an alias based on a school supply (I'm sitting in the office right now, so that's what I'm looking at). Because I am trying to appreciate French-speaking Switzerland, I will use the French words for the school supplies.

       1. Calculatrice, the woman who has helped with the ins, outs, unders, and throughs of homeschooling, fearlessly navigating mazes of red tape. She's been homeschooling here in Geneva for close to 20 years, and she knows all the tricks. As an added blessing, she has a daughter Johanna's age, and we have become friends. In this transient expat world, I am thankful for friends. She also recently introduced me to . . .

       2. The International School Book Room. This is a true bargain -- the kind that would actually be a bargain even in Cincinnati. Used literature, textbooks, travel guides, picture books, all for under 3 francs each -- or 20 for all you can stuff in a bag. An almost-new Algebra text for 3 chf? Rifles for Waitie for 1? I had to keep slapping my hands away to avoid buying more than I could carry.

       3. Feuille de Papier (see, I told you this name business would be fun), my running buddy. As all of us with running buddies know, an hour or two a week is better than therapy. Feuille is, unfortunately, returning to the US this summer, but we have shared aches and angst for more than a year now, and our Thursday runs are the highlight of my week.

       4. Stylo, the new(ish) youth pastor at church. Just when I was lamenting the fact that my kids didn't have coaches, teachers, or others outside the family to encourage and motivate them (because that is just not the Swiss style), Stylo shows up. Musician, athlete, man of God, and bearer of the coolest short dreadlocky hair ever. He's taken an interest in all the kids -- taking Drew and Johanna to work in the train station soup kitchen, coming over most Fridays for Bible study and silly games with Luc and friends, inviting Drew to a high school boys Bible study.

       5. Tableau, a woman from church whom I have known, slightly, since we moved here. She also home schools, though we had never really talked about it. Recently, we somehow started talking about how expensive French teachers are and how sometimes it might be nice for our boys to have someone else in their classes. It's grown into a tiny homeschool co-op for next year. She'll teach science (a subject that makes me tired), I'll teach English (her greatest fear), and we'll hire a French teacher and split the cost. It's an answer to a prayer I never even prayed, assuming that a co-op was out of the question here. Finally, someone who can think outside the box!

       Make fun of Pollyanna all you want, I have to say that I'm feeling better already. And, I haven't even gotten to my final item for the evening . . .

       6. My new Garmin Forerunner. Eric bought me this gadget for my birthday, and while I thought it was a nice gift, I had no idea how much I would love it. I can see my pace, my milage, the elapsed time, and the calories burned. At the end of each mile, it beeps with my time, and it congratulates me when I achieve a PR. Coolest of all, I can plug it into the computer and wile away time that I should be spending sweeping or something by looking at altitude changes, second-by-second pace, and other vital details of my last run. The fact that the Garmin is pink was, I think, supposed to keep at least some family members from stealing it. That has completely failed, as my run log includes runs from all three kids -- including the ones who were supposed to be put off by the pink. I just have to keep them from logging a 5k, or I will never get another PR.

The Garmin. No one else wanted to pose for a picture.