Grindelwald

It's no use. Making plans here is impossible. Reality does not match the information provided. I glance at the weather report for this morning. I'm told it's sunny. I look outside -- what are they talking about? I see clouds!

Then I turn my gaze toward the view of the church. Oh....! I see the summit of Fleischerhorn! The hotel's name translates to "Fleicherhorn view." This is why!

But not for long. The summit disappears behind the clouds very quickly.

At breakfast, I study the forecasts, the maps, the sheets printed out at home. Between bites of delicious food.

[Every day, at about the time I come down for breakfast, the construction workers  -- I think those who are working on the roof of the parental hotel next door -- come in and they put in their order for coffee. I like a cappuccino -- one says. They are served anything they request. They cant be Swiss -- they communicate with the hotel staff in English. All I can think is how respectfully they are treated here. I can't imagine our construction crews being invited for a cappuccino break on the house back home.]

 

 

 

Eva, who is an integral member of the family team that runs this place, comes up to my table. I have an excursion for you for today! (Her ideas are so good -- she is the one who gave me yesterday's walk -- that I listen with utmost care.)

It wont be a quiet place. There will be some people. But today is the day for it.

I see the issue here: if I just roam the Grindelwald valley, I will miss out on the true Alpine experience. I'll see some of the tall mountains, but most will be hidden from view. This is what happens when a tall one is that close to where you live -- you can't see much of what's behind. Add to it the problem of low lying clouds and you have what I had for two days -- views of the valley, views of the mountain base, but no real sense of the magnificent peaks that are the defining characteristic of the Alps.

But, but, isn't it cloudy up there? Because it sure is cloudy down here.

Eva shows me how to really look at the weather. You go to the webcam, not to the weather forecast. We look together: it may be cloudy down here, but there's sunshine higher up! At the moment. (Famous last words.)

It's also colder "up there." There is snow on the ground. People are skiing. I change my clothes to the warmest that I have and I head out. 

 

This is how it works: I need to take the gondola up to the so called First summit (at 2184m/7165ft; the village of Grindelwald is at 1034m/3392ft). From there, you can hike over to Bachalpsee -- a lake at an elevation of 2265m/7431ft. 

Here's what I have going for me: since it is the low low season, there are no crowds. I go up to the gondola, buy a ticket, get into a cabin and zip up. Yes, there are a few skiers that ride up for the snow up there, and there are a few visitors who want to "experience" the First's star attraction: it's called the First Walk and it's a narrow metal path (with a railing of course) that hugs a cliff, so that you can get a total panic attack in midair as you navigate the sheer drop. Everyone wants to do it! 

A light digression: by "everyone" I mean mostly Asian visitors. This is whom I see in Grindelwald. A few Swiss, a few other Europeans, lots of Asian guests. Conspicuously absent? Americans. We've buried our faces in shame. We dont have many vacation days anyway. Nor do we have secure nest eggs as our savings are being depleted as we speak. 

So, up I go to the First.  The gondola ride is long and I get to watch the scenery change from the windows of the small cabin: from patchy snow...

 

 

 

... through the clouds, to a snow covered terrain.

 

 

In my gondola cabin, I have two couples heading up to ski. German speaking. Maybe Swiss, maybe German, maybe Austrian, maybe from Lichtenstein for all I know. But what's interesting to me is that they look.... my age. On my hike today too, I will pass a handful of solo German speaking seniors. I think they like to come for the exercise, for the views, in this month when everyone is done with winter travel to the Alps.

 

Now, about the weather: in the two and a half hours I spend up on the hiking trails, I see it all: full clouds, partial clouds, no clouds, clouds on some summits but not others, clouds everywhere, clouds on the trail so thick that I cannot see anything at all. 

It is all very dramatic!

And beautiful.

Once again, let me show you my walk through photos.

I leave behind the small accumulation of visitors, here for the First Walk (do you see the walk around the cliff, culminating in a balcony "over nothing?" Would you feel it to be fun? Not me!). 

After an initial slushy ascent, my trail is very packed down and solid. Easy to navigate. Which is a good thing, as I did not bring my shoe cleats. Who knew I'd be walking in snow!

 

The view changes from minute to minute...

The trail goes up, the trail goes down, then up again. The clouds shift.

My path goes over slabs of snow that look like they're about to break away and form a new republic! (See that wee person on the trail with her dog? The wee person is actually around my age and she passed me with wicked speed!)

(the trail is to the far right, Grindelwald is below the clouds)

(the trail continues, visible again to the right of the photo)

I pass this one senior doing... I don't know what. But he has the essentials! Walking sticks and a teddy bear!

 

I have no idea what this speck of a person (in the middle of the photo below) is doing, but he or she is definitely off trail!

 

(looking back...)

The lake at last. Slushy and inaccessible. (There is a sign that basically says DANGER.) It took me over an hour to get here.  And I'm so glad I did! It's such a stunning landscape.

Selfie time!!

 

 

Those sun glasses saved me. The light up here is piercing!

 

I turn around and head back.

There's my trail! To the left this time. Does it look to you like the clouds have grown denser?

 

 

Ummmm, where am I?? Thank goodness for the purple sticks. It's easy to feel disoriented in the clouds. 

 

 

 

Phew. Glad to be out of the clouds. They felt rather ghostly...

 

 

 

Time to go down. I have the gondola all to myself this time. And where have the clouds gone? I have no idea.

By 2:30 I am down again and very ready for a coffee break! The gondola depot is right next to Grindelwald's best coffee roaster -- a lovely place called Eiger Bean. The sun is out, I buy a piece of plum cake to go with the latte and I take it all outside.

 

This is when life feels so good! Face the sun on a March day, enjoy a coffee, a cake, mmmmm!

And here's the thing: Grindelwald looks really beautiful against the now more visible mountain peaks. 

I ask one of the hotel brothers -- how long would you have to stay to be guaranteed sunshine? Because if you come for three days and it's cloudy, well, it will still be beautiful, but it will be exponentially more beautiful if the clouds recede. 

He thinks about it -- depends. In March, things change quickly, so you never know. Maybe five days?

I think about all those visitors up on the First Walk. I am certain most are not here for more than a couple of days. Lucky are those who are here today!.

Just to get a sense of how different it all is, depending on the weather -- remember the first picture I posted yesterday, from my walk? The one still in town, with the closed daffodils? Here's the same house, the same field of daffodils, but now with the fully visible mountain behind it:

In the evening, I go down to Onkel Tom's Hutte. Again, I'm just following the brothers' bookings for me. I deeply appreciate the fact that they put some thought and variety into this. Onkel Tom's is casual and in the high season it would be tough to plan on a meal here (they frown on reservations). And even today, the 8 tables are packed solid (locals come out of the woodwork when the holiday crowds diminish). But, it's a family run place and somehow my hotel family called the Hutte restaurant family and I got a seat for dinner.

 

 

 

 (She is definitely part of the Hutte family. So friendly and kind to me, even as I'm from that side of the ocean...)

 

Onkel Tom's is a pizza place but as they explain (on the menu), they are not a fast food pizzeria. They take great pride in creating a pizza for you. And what I also love is that they have salads. Large ones, made with the European lettuces that never seem to sag under a dressing. Ed and I eat huge (and I mean huge) salads every day and I miss these when I travel. It's nice to indulge in one tonight.

(my own pizza  -- it's called a small, but it is hardly small!)

 

 

As I eat my salad and my pizza (both so delicious!), I think about Primrose, my Chicago grandgirl. It's her birthday today -- a fact that would be hard to forget when I am in Europe. I call her Primrose after all, because when she was born, I was in Paris and the city was filled with blooming primroses. Hard to believe that that was a good many years ago! I'm sending love across the ocean, but I"ll see you soon sweet child! Happy happy birthday!

(my favorite photo of primroses here, in Grindelwald)

 

Though the weather forecasts for Grindelwald have changed dramatically from day to day, one thing has remained constant -- the prediction for rain tomorrow. We'll see how that goes! I suppose a price must be paid for a string of lovely days!

with love...

 

Grindelwald

1. Morning Nose Stuck in  Computer

Not that you asked, but here's some advice about brain power and adding years to your life: as you age, it's crucial that you find the time to do the things you love to do. Even if you think you should give them up because, well, you're old(er). Adjust, as your abilities shift! But don't retreat, don't move away from exploring all that you love, however you may have to redefine it. Okay, that's a two line summary of an article I read (along with the comments to it) in the NYTimes today on aging and how to forestall cognitive decline. (I'm providing a gifted link here. If you read it, do go to the Readers Pick comments. They're illuminating and they challenge some of the article's conclusions.)

This is so obvious, right? Your first reaction may well be duh... tell me something I don't already know. And yet do we really live by this premise? Do we walk the walk? In fact, I'm not even sure if we talk the talk. This is the way I often speak about my trips: how many years of travel do I have left anyway? I foresee the end. And when I feel frail or vulnerable, I think of that end coming sooner rather than later. 

This, I think, is a mistake. The attitude of "can't do" is widespread in media sources, in the very fabric of our culture: look at all the things you can't do as a senior! When I come back from a packed travel day, I think -- "that was probably too much" rather than "wow, I could do all that! how awesome! let me do some more!" A commenter reminded us all of Chagall, who became infirm and could no longer paint. He adjusted and did art in other ways -- using scissors for cut-outs. Adjust, continue.

One little factoid from the article stood out for me: research indicates that at least 40% of dementia in our society is preventable.  Isn't it grand that perhaps doing things you love may keep you sharp just that much longer?

I read the above during breakfast at the Fleischerblick in Grindelwald, Switzerland. I have five days of hiking still before me here, and I'm working on shifting my perspective from "wow, that's the last time I'll be doing that" to "wow, that was awesome, let me do some more."

This is a refreshing focus for me: away from politics, onto hiking. But I have to admit it -- I started my meal with reading and talking about the news of the day. The staff here knows not to mention politics, especially to Americans, but I'm reading about how Europeans are being insulted and beaten up right now in the discourse of my country's leadership, and I find myself bringing this up just to make sure they know that we are horrified. That I am horrified. I invite their reaction. [Today, one person asked me -- why do you vote in this way where someone can win without having majority support? Most of my answers always come down to these words -- it's complicated. Why do so many people support what's going on in your country? It's complicated.  Why did they vote for him? It's complicated... I try to explain, but in fact, it is complicated.]

 

2. In a Fog

The morning began with fog sweeping into the valley. My windows would offer a panoramic view if only the clouds would lift. Currently, I can only see a few chalets up the nearby hill.

Breakfast at the hotel is lovely. They are just days away from closing for the season. The staff will get five weeks off starting in early April (and then again seven weeks off in November and part of December -- the second dead season in the Alps, so another closure for the hotel). There is just a scattering of guests. I see two couples from China. And I hear one pair speaking English.

I'm told that summer is even more hectic here than winter. People come from far and wide to ride the cog rail to "the top of Europe," to gaze at Alpine meadows and listen to the song of cowbells. (Summer brings more guests from around the world, winter brings more of the Swiss who are crazy about winter sports. On the weekends, the Swiss come up from the big cities to get away from it all.) 

I eat solidly, adding Grindelwald eggs and local Swiss cheeses to the usual.

 

 

3. 28 Chances to Understand the Mysteries of the Mountains

 

Here's how little I know about life in the mountains: I can't even guess where the mysteries are. What to expect, what to question. And I've spent quite a bit of time in them -- in Poland, in France, Italy. In the U.S. too, though not as much in the big ones. And in Switzerland. And still, I'm a babe here. An old babe, to be sure. Taking baby steps of discovery, every day I am here.

A very helpful hotel person gave me advice on where to hike today. The fog is lifting, but low lying clouds remain. They're constantly moving, and she tells me there's hope that some will burn away into nothing. Maybe she just wants to infuse me with optimism, I don't know. In any case, I'm leaving my umbrella at home.

The goal is to take a trail to the Hotel Wetterhorn. The hotel is at the end of the road that comes from Interlaken, although it's not entirely true that it is "the end" because in the summertime, a bus actually picks up a narrow single lane from there that goes even deeper into the mountains, climbing another few miles for those who live up there, or those who want to get closer to steeper hiking trails. My own trail zigzags through the hills and ends at that hotel. From the hotel, I can take any number of trails in any direction for a "there and back" kind of a hike.

Sounds good to me!

When I leave the village, the clouds are low enough that I don't really pay attention to the mountains. But as I keep going up, the clouds play with the rocky facade, revealing something to me, just a little here and there. And you'll see what I saw of the base of the highest mountains, never quite displaying for me, for you the entirety.

First, though, I look around at the structures that dot the landscape. Initially homes (this first one with emerging daffodils in the meadow), but very quickly it all changes: I walk a path that passes alongside farmsteads and barns. I smell it, I hear it. 

So, let's pause with the descriptions and look at my photo selection. Why so many from the hike? (I posted 28!) Well, because nothing stayed in place. Every time I looked up, I had a new perspective -- on the mountains just to my side, and of the Grindelwald valley below.

The mountains require patience and humility. Those who live here know it. Me -- I'm just learning.

 Okay, this view is very close to my hotel. It's still very cloudy.

 

And then I start smelling and hearing cows. I come across barns with proud signs announcing cheese. (I peak inside one barn.)

 

Next to one barn, there is a tiny shed with Alp and Kase banners slapped on it. Even after only a day here, I know what Kase is. 

 

 

 

I'm curious: I open the latched door and peak inside. A refrigerator! With (drum roll) local Swiss cheeses.

 

 

I pay attention to flowers, you know I do. I come across loads of crocuses. Most are still shut tight. But at least they're standing tall and ready for that burst of sunshine. [One thing I learn at dinner tonight is that in this corner of Grindelwald, there is no sunshine at all for two months out of the year. The Eiger peak (standing tall at about 4000 meters/over 13,000 feet) blocks it until about mid February.]

 

 

 

Primroses everywhere...

 

 

 

Glancing back toward Grindelwald, I see that the town is now obliterated by an intervening hill. But the mountains reveal themselves. A little. Here and there.

 

 

 

Cow stables. One after another. Gotta love that smell of cows, wintering over inside.

 

 

 

Now I look to my right: the wall of mountain. Take a photo, quick, before it disappears again.

 

 

 

Glance back to Grindelwald, take 2.

 

 

 

Look at that wooden hut. Then look up at that enormous wall of mountain. Right next to it.

 

 

 

This is what peak (sic) a boo looks like!

 

 

 

Back on the trail: as I go further up, the grass is that much less green. And yet, here's this one solo daffodil...

 

 

 

What draws your attention, the stream or the mountain?

 

 

 

Imagine living in that house...

 

 

 

Looking back toward Grindelwald, take 3: now there are two hills shielding the view...

 

 

 

The path takes me past a barn with many baa-ing noises inside. I pause. The farmer here gives me a nod. I ask -- do you speak English? Nein....  Yet somehow we come to an understanding. I want to see his sheep. He shows them to me. For milch? -- I ask. Nein.... Ah. Must be for meat.

 

 

 

He shows me his other sheep: English - American, he explains. (This would be the origin of the species I guess). Gross. Ah -- we are the source of the big sheep in this world. Too many sad double entendres there.

 

 

 

Schweizer! -- he says, pointing to the next pen. So, the Swiss gave us the black sheep....

 

 

Because I am enthusiastic, he beckons me to follow him to his yard where he keeps... two chickens. Seeking commonality of interests, I tell him we have six, then immediately regret it. Typical Americans,  always showing off that they have more...

 

 

 

Still, he smiles, finds two eggs, and offers to share his loot, passing me one of them. I explain that I cannot take it -- I'm staying in a hotel, but this is probably beyond our incomprehensible communication levels.

 

 

 

Such a warm guy. This is where he lives:

 

 

 

And across the path, there is another farmer. I can hear (and smell) that he has cows, but I don't disturb him. He's already double tasking: smoking a pipe and putting in a solar panel.

 

 

 

Look to the right -- more of the mountain is visible now...

 

 

 

Glance back to Grindelwald take 4: yet another hill blocking view of the town...

 

 

 

Whoa!....

 

 

 

Small hut, massive mountain...

 

 

  

Clouds, mountains, huts... I reach pivotal intersection. I turn back.

 

 

4. Time for Tea... or Beer

I'd come to the Hotel Wetterhorn, I'd climbed beyond it, and I turned back. Now, again at the Wetterhorn, I decide to take a pause. Inside, in the restaurant. For a cup of fruit tea. I can always count on the Swiss to have a nice fruit tea on the menu.

I sit to the side, watching the two (Swiss) couples finishing up a lunch. Was it good? Do they come her often? I've noticed that Swiss diners are on the quiet side of the spectrum. The French used to be very quiet too, but that ship has now sailed -- younger people eschew the reserve.

 

 

 

Here, I get lazy. The Grindelwald final bus stop is just in front of the hotel. The bus is free for all who live here or are staying at a Grindelwald hotel (we all get special passes for the area, not that the driver cares about seeing it). It just pulled up and is ready to head down the hill. 

I hop on.

Here's a surprise: at a further stop, these dudes get on with their wet and slushy snowboards. And they have open beers. And they drink them. That's a first one for me! (They speak a mix of British English and German and they clearly know the norms.)

 

 

 

5. Downtown

I stay on the bus until it gets to the commercial blocks of Grindelwald. Ironically, this is when I see some of the high peaks.  How different it all looks when the clouds are pushed back!

 

 

 (Grindelwald, downtown, in the daytime)

 

 

I stop at the only open bakery in town -- the Grindelwald Bakery. Later, I learn that they make an award winning sourdough bread -- winner of several national competitions. Right now, though, I'm hungry for a coffee and something sweet. I tell the salesperson to pick her favorite. She points to the hazelnut croissant. Hazelnuts are very popular here.

 

 

 

I walk up the hill back to the hotel. You'll know I'm almost there: I have before me that white church...

 

 

 

 6. Dinner at Home

When I booked my stay here, I had read about the restaurant that is part of the hotel. I was intrigued. It's a young team -- the chef is from a new generation of talented cooks -- and I knew that there is some unusual mixing and matching of flavors taking place in the kitchen, even as the food is mostly sourced locally, with an attention to our more modern understanding of what makes for a good meal. Of course I was going to try the place  -- I just let them decide which night would be my Fiescherblick night. They reserved a table for me for tonight.

The first thing I do is arrive late. I have dinner reservations for 8 pm each night and I forgot that for this place (which serves a tasting menu over an extended period of time) starts dinner earlier. They'd made a  7 pm booking for me. At a minute before 8, the waiter comes up to my room asking if I am... alright. Heavy blush here!

The dining room is on the quiet side. Half of the diners speak French, the other half German. I can tell, because when someone speaks, I can hear them. So enters the American. Late for dinner. Blushing and throwing out apologies. Loudly, by comparison.

I thought I'd do the 4 course tasting menu, but after my blunder, I decide to do the full 5 (you can do as many as 6 if you come with a larger group).

Not only do I have no regrets but I am, in fact in a stupor of amazement. The food here is out of this world excellent. I haven't worn my food focused hat for a while now, but the evening did spin me back to the days when I cooked delectably (especially when I cooked at L'Etoile in Madison) and took groups on food tours (before it was fashionable to do this; now, they're a dime a dozen, which gives you pause...). I thought tonight that the chef took me, took all of us to new levels of creativity. The so called salad dish? It's the only one I'll post a photo of here. This one:

It's stunning and delicious -- various lettuces, prepared in different ways, over a pumpkin puree and even as I write this, I am not doing it justice. Which is why I wont describe anything more. 

The chef came out to chat  with me for a few mins afterwards. I know that at least one of the brothers who own and run this hotel spent years in Zurich managing fine dining establishments, which explains why the meal works so seamlessly, why the staff know the foods so well, why they seem genuinely happy to give you each new and exciting dish. But of course the talent belongs to the young chef. He hails from Interlaken so you could say he is home grown. I hope he stays here and isn't lured to some establishments in New York or London. Wait a year or two and you'll seem the place get its Michelin star. Then come back and tell me how right I was!

Full, happy, and feeling so much better...

with love...