When I told people we were going to Switzerland, the main question I got was “Are you going to the Alps?”
And when people weren’t asking, they were saying, “You’ve got to go to the Alps!”
Well, yes, we were going to the Alps, I would respond, but later in the trip, after we go to Zurich and Lausanne.
Now that we’re in the Alps, I have just one thing to say.
OK, I get it now.
It took five trains and four hours to get from Lausanne to Wengen, the last a cograil to make the final ascent. Along the way, mountains and villages appeared around curves and as we came out of tunnels.
And then we arrived.
We’ve been going hard since we arrived last weekend, walking upwards of five and six miles every day, a lot of it uphill, in temperatures ranging from “warmer than normal” to “just about surface of the sun.” (In case you missed any of it, there’s this, and this, along with this, also this, plus this and this.)
It’s a bit less steamy up in the mountains, and all the activity we needed was to watch what was going on outside our window, especially when a thunderstorm rolled through.
Ever since, the mountain and valley have been appearing, disappearing and reappearing, the sun, clouds, rain and fog combining for different patterns that seemingly change by the minute.
Even better, as we were going out for dinner, Suzi said she observed a bit of a Lake Placid vibe. While I’m embarrassed that I didn’t think of it — as the one who grew up a few hours from there — and it’s probably more that Lake Placid has a Wengen vibe, but that’s a pretty strong endorsement in my book.