Pretty neat, huh? How often in the US would you be able to say "oh, I'm heading across the state (let along the COUNTRY) for a party!" But anyway, that's what I did.
The ride for the most part was pretty uneventful. I do love the landscape we rode through, though, and it was only the second time I had ever done so. Until Bern or so it was hilly, and wooded, alternating between industrial stuff and farms. Then it starts opening up, and by the time you get to Kanton Fribourg you are looking out over expansive rolling hills sprinkled with farmhouses and small villages, covered with the lushest green grass you have ever seen, and beyond to a spectacular view of the snow-covered mountains in the distance of the Berner Oberland.
Then, just before arriving in Lausanne the train goes into a tunnel. When it emerges again, the landscape changes completely. Suddenly, you're at the top of an entire slope of stepped vineyards (I think the German word- Weinberg- wine mountain- says it better) cascading down to the sparkling waters of Lac Leman, the far shore of which is at the base of majestic mountains, craggy and snow-capped, extending off beyond the horizon. I think it is one of my favorite views in all of Switzerland!
During much of the train ride I had to pull myself away from the outside to study for an exam coming up. (I was noticing, thankfully, that the text was much easier for me to read than it had been a few months before.) When we stopped in Bern two girls got on and sat across the aisle from me. They were chatting away- loudly- and, language and accent aside, it was very clear they were American. Which was cool for me- I think my ears perk up whenever I hear anyone speaking American English as their native tongue. It's kind of relaxing for me. But at the same time it was in a strange way embarrassing too; I could understand why so many of my friends had told me that a common stereotype of Americans is that we are superficial and openly- although insincerely- friendly.
I didn't say anything for a long time- I just listened a bit from across the aisle. Not intentional eavesdropping, more that it was difficult NOT to hear, kind of like looking at a sign and trying NOT to read it, their words just floated so much more effortlessly into my consciousness than those in another language. Something I don't think you notice until you're away from it.
When they sat down, their conversation went something like this:
"...so, like I was saying...Omigod, where are my sunglasses? Oh! Like, I thought I lost them somewhere, but I forgot, like, I gave them to you. Like, I would've been SOOO mad if I lost them... ya know what I mean?"
"Hmmm... Ya know, I don't know if you can really believe what they say in these celebrity magazines. Like, sometimes it could be true, but sometimes it is, like, SO not true."
"Oh, I know exactly what you mean! Like, when they talk about who's together with who, I mean, sometimes I think they just make this stuff up!"
And so on. Total ditzdom. Not that it's all that horrible or anything, just that they were talking so loudly, and I hadn't heard a stupid conversation like that in a long time.
Well, I thought, maybe it's an age thing. I couldn't tell exactly how old they were- maybe they are college freshmen, just graduatedd from high school and are travelling through Europe before they head to school in the fall. Maybe it was a graduation gift? I hadn't had too many conversations with Swiss or German 18 or 19 year olds- most of my friends are about 5 years older.
So I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt- for my sake more than anyone's, in all honesty. I didn't want to think that there was sa legitimate basis for the stereotypes- the shallow part, I mean; I'm actually quite proud to be a nationality with a reputation for being friendly, regardless of what they think about us being overly so.
But no sooner had I done so, than one of the two girls burst out, "But, I don't WANT to turn 23! 23 is, like, so OLD! I mean, then I can't say I'm in my low twenties anymore- I'll be in my mid-twenties!" The other tried to console her, telling her that 23 wasn't really all that old.
So went that assumption- they were the same age as me! Oh well, what was I going to do about it, and anyway, they WERE kind of funny to listen to! :)
When we passed through the tunnel just before Lausanne, I pointed it out to them- the view was on my side of the train, and it was heading towards dusk, so I didn't know if they'd see it otherwise.
We chatted for a while- we had to change to the same train in Lausanne, and so could talk until they got off in Vevey.
Turns out they were business and communication majors (just graduated) and were taking part in a five-week program in which they and several other students from around the world spent one week in each of five European countries, hosted by a major company in each nation. Each week they were given extensive tours of the companies and had time to make whirlwind trips to see the sights there. This was their last week and were visiting Nestle. They were heading back there after a day hiking in the Berner Oberland.
It was pretty neat to be able to talk to them for a bit. Their experiences were so different from mine. They were hurried across the continent so quickly that they scarcely had time to remember what country they were in! And their impressions were so different from mine; for example, I was struck by how beautiful Prague was, and they talked about how dirty it was!
When we departed we wished each other the best and continued on our ways, each a bit richer for having met and compared our experiences- at least I felt that way.
For as much as I can sympathize with much of the European criticism of our superficiality in many respects, I also think they're missing out on a lot by scoffing at our easy friendliness.
When I arrived in Montreux Aleksis was waiting for me on the track. It was nice to see him, and I was glad I could make it out for his birthday party! Aleksis is a cool person- possibly one of the most self-assured people I have met. He is not someone to worry about things- not due to not caring about it, but simply because he's always on top of things and just knows he has no reason to worry. I met him at the language course at the ETH before the semester started.
His party was in his family's wine cellar. This I thought was amazing. I had said the hillsides in this area are covered with vineyards. His family was obviously one who made wine from these grapes. The room seemed ancient, as though it was a cavern carved out of the hillside. And even though I'd never been to France, there was something about it that seemed distinctly French to me. The floor was made of big round cobbles about the size of a fist or two, polished and somewhat flattened from decades- or maybe centuries?- of wear. The ceilings were so high- maybe 15' or so- and with the party lighting they seemed to vanish above us somewhere.
Within this room were the two most enormous barrels I had ever seen! Each one was about 2m in diameter at the ends and closer to 8' in the center, lying on their sides. (yes, dumb inconsistency of measuring width, I know.) They were undoubtedly for making the wine.
The stairs down to the cellar were very steep, and above them was draped a large piece of fabric, painted so nicely with stars on it. Aleksis said he had come home every weekend for a month to get everything ready!
The party was great, although it was kind of a strange situation for me. Most of the people there were high school friends, meaning most of the conversation was in French. There were also a few other people who spoke something else as their native language- a guy from Aargau and one from Tessin- both friends from the ETH- and a girl from Austria Aleksis knew from an exchange year in Ecuador. (!)
So we spoke German together. With everyone else, it varied from person to person whether we spoke English or German together. (It depended on which they were more comfortable with, since both were foreign languages for them.) It really made me wish I knew at least a little French, so that I could follow the general conversations and so that I wouldn't have to make people stop and change gears to speak with me.
It was really funny at times. I would be talking to one person, in German for example, then turn and ask someone else a question, and he or she would give me a confused, blank look, or maybe say something in English, before I would realize we had been speaking in English and not German!
All in all I had a lot of fun. When the party ended we headed upstairs into the house, where Aleksis had everything arranged so that those of us from long distances had a place to sleep. I was given a room to myself, where I slept VERY soundly.
I woke in the morning to the church bells ringing outside. I remember the bells here were very tinny, and they seemed to ring forever! (I was really regretting not having started a collection of recordings of the bells wherever I went- these were so distinctive!)
When I went downstairs I was able to see for the first time what Montreux looked like from here. It was stunning. I just kept saying to Aleksis, "you LIVE here. So this is just normal for you!" Amazing.
After breakfast we went to visit Chateau Chillon. It is a beautiful yet imposing castle right on the shores of Lac Leman.
As a quick side note- there is a funny parallel in the names of the two big lakes on either end of the country. The non-local language uses the name of a city on the lake, while the local language has another name altogether, as if to say there is more than just that one city on the lake. In the northeast Constance (Konstanz) can be found on Lake Constance, or Bodensee in German. In the southwest Geneva is found on the Genfersee (Lake Geneva) in German, or Lac Leman in French.
The tour of Chateau Chillon brought us into the elegant rooms upstairs. One room had a series of vaulted ceilings, but just had white plaster surfaces. They explained to us how at one point there were all kinds of fancy decorations here. I don't remember why they were no longer there, but when they were restoring this room they thought very carefully about what to do. Recreating them would create a false sense of history. Omitting them entirely would lose some of the beautiful past of this room. So they came up with a solution to explain this past: they had projectors installed in the room that when turned on gave an ephemeral impression of the earlier ornamentation! Pretty cool.
It also brought us to the dungeon. It was dark, and dank and creepy, as you'd expect. But there were also windows here that had such beautiful views out to the Alps across the lake!
Lord Byron wrote about being a prisoner here. That is, it's a fictitious account, and that he wasn't actually imprisoned here. (I was a bit unclear during the tour.)
We wound our way up and up
through the hallways that looked out over the courtyard,
until we could see over the tops of the roofs!
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