Abundantly mountainous

Chronologically, this post belongs right after Gruyère, but I realized that I had totally missed posting about the Vevey funicular so I had to set that up before we got to this post. Because this post involves both a funicular AND a cable car. Up a bigger mountain. That is steeper. 

We left Gruyère equal parts confused and enamored with the touristy bizarreness of it (and with 50% of us seriously craving cheese).

 On the way home, we drove in and out of several little ski resort towns until the above wires caught our eyes. Before I had time to protest about being suspended hundreds of feet above a snowy, rocky death, Anthony had pulled into the parking lot and bought tickets to the top. The funicular ride was actually very beautiful, but when we switched to the cable car my knees started shaking a bit. It was less the height and more the swaying that occurred oh so very far from the ground.

As with our previous experience, the view at the top completely made the harrowing journey worth it.

We only had about fifteen minutes to run around and act like super tourists (No, but look at THAT mountain! It's the pointiest mountain ever! Look at the snow! It's as pure and white as baby angel dandruff!) before the cable car took its last descent for the evening.

The ride back was filled with kids. And they weren't scared, so I decided that maybe I needed to get over myself already. Or maybe those kids were just distracted by the delicious looking snacks their mom kept handing out. Did I mention that hunger was severely impacting my ability to behave in a normal manner at this time?

All in all a pretty adventurous spur-of-the-moment trip. Very worth it. 

Climbing a mountain, lazy style

I was pretty sure funiculars only existed in fanciful Victorian children's books; along with other mythical words such as 'zither' and 'perambulate.' But now I stand corrected. Funiculars are real, and in Switzerland the are a for-real way to get from the bottom of a hill to the top.

A few weekends ago, we decided to investigate this strange sounding contraption. There are two funiculars very close to us; one in Montreaux that is of the fancy Golden Pass variety and the other, a much more humble model in Vevey. After realizing that the Montreaux specimen was over a hundred francs (outrage) we chose the latter.

Introduction to method of travel: A funicular is like the world's slowest roller coaster only without the safety harnesses. See that cable in the above photo? That and the promise that the other funicular is still attached and balancing the weight are all that stands between you and quite literally plummeting to your death.*

Moment of truth, if you do not see the car coming up the other side, it's time to start reflecting on your life. Because it's over.

Once we arrived at our destination however, I promptly shut my mouth and took in the view. Since it was lunchtime and there happened to be a restaurant right there, we decided to take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and have some traditional post-funicular fare.

Which, in case you are wondering, includes such waistline-friendly items as Assorted Meats and Pot o' Melted Cheese. And bread. And wooden menus that looked like shutters (not food, but still cool).

Switzerland, home of the whomping willows. 

On the way back, we hopped off the train a few stops early and decided to walk home.

There are a number of winding pedestrian paths through the vineyards. During this trek, one must come to terms with one's level of athletic ability. Are you an over-achieving sporty type that prefers to run gazelle-like through the grapes? Or are you a sloth-ier human who must bumble along quietly recounting your delicious lunch of melted cheese and bread?

I am the latter.

There are a number of itty-bitty vineyard towns scattered throughout this area. I get the feeling that these will be great places to visit during grape harvesting time. I plan on bringing a thermos and filling it up with wine for the walk home. Filing this now under Greatest Idea Ever. Will report back in the fall.

There was a progressive dinner going on in the Lizard community. Lots of these little guys hanging out, getting some sun and trading stuffed mushroom recipes. I tried to make small talk with the individual in the above photo and he, honestly, was not that impressed. It was like middle school all over again.

* Not an engineer. This assessment of the mechanics of funiculars is brought to you by nothing other than my own personal brand of neurosis. I will say though that if there is one think on this earth that I do believe in, it is Swiss engineering.

A trip to the land of cheese

These photos are from a few weeks back. The day after we picked up our car we got drunk with the freedom to go anywhere we wanted without having to wait for a train or a bus. I've lived without a car for four years, Anthony for over six, so acquiring personal mobility is a pretty big deal. I am using the royal "we" here, as the car is a manual transmission so I am going to need some lessons before I can tackle the giant hill that is Lausanne. So far I can put the car into first gear, reverse and pull into a parking space. In the parking garage. When it's empty. I consider this outstanding progress.

We decided to head out to Gruyere. On the way we discovered the awesomeness of driving through mountains. Literally. If Anthony has gotten tired of me shouting "the miiiiinneeeesss of Moooorrriaaaa" every time we pass through a tunnel, he has not shown it. And that, internet, is why I'm marrying him.

Gruyere is pretty incredible from a distance. It sits atop a hill flanked by mountains on all sides. 

The town was lovely. Lots of little stores selling cheese. Lots of little restaurants serving cheese. The whole place smelled faintly of fondue, aka melted pots of cheese. Do you see where I am going with this?

The Search for Delicious Cheese.

(Note to self, file this away for future biography title)

We wandered up to the castle and spent some time enjoying the view. Along the way we passed really traditional Swiss things like the Tibet museum and the H.R. Giger museum. Just to make sure you are up to speed on the setting, let me break it down for you. We've got a quaint old town with waitresses dressed like Heidi serving fondue to customers in the shadow of a building resembling a real, live cuckoo clock. Mere steps away we have a museum run by Tibetan monks complete with robes and prayer flags. RIGHT next door to that we've got a museum filled with stuff like this and paintings titled things like Birth Machine Baby.

All in the shadow of a castle. Switzer-land-of-enigmas. 

Opposite the Giger museum is a bar where all the furniture and decor are modeled after spinal cords and whale pelvises and whatnot (do whales have pelvises? I dropped out of pre-med prior to any sort of useful biology course so I'm operating under the Ignoramus Clause right now, allowing me to make sweeping generalizations on the internet after doing zero research.)

 Having been too big a wuss to ever see Alien, I was freaked out at the time but now I'm desperately curious and want nothing more than to go back and sip a cappuccino in the shadow of a futuristic shark jaw.

Back to pastoral scenery and the requisite "we were here" photo.

The whole time we were exploring, there was a glider drifting around the sky. It was a perfect day for it and the view from up there must be phenomenal.

After we had seen what there was to see, we headed back to the car determined to continue exploring the area.

But that's another post entirely.

Yverdon

After a busy week at work, we decided that Saturday needed to be a day of relaxation. So we hopped in the car and began driving into the countryside. 

We've been having days on end of rain so it was nice to see everything beginning to bloom. And mountains. Mountains have nothing to do with the rain, but there they were as far as the eye could see in either direction. I did my duty and took some panoramic shots that will join all my other well-intentioned panoramic shots in a folder on my desktop that is definitely NOT called 'unprocessed crap'. Because I am a professional and never use rude words to identify desktop folders that I am too lazy to sort through.

Cool cuckoo-type church steeple.

I want a donkey. Badly. LOOK AT THAT FACE. And the ears.....

And they come in Fun Size!

Someone can't keep his hoofs to himself and was taking a time-out in the far corner of the field. When my back was turned he trotted back to the momma donkey and started rehearsing for xXxrealdonkeysgonewildcollegepartypaloozaxXx.com. That girl donkey though, was so not into it and gave him a swift kick in the-

oh, right, my grandparents read this. Back to lovely old buildings!

This was in the center square of Yverdon, a cute little town in the middle of the farmland. We had a bit of lunch and walked around until we (I) began to get cold (about 5 minutes).

Terra-cotta has got to be the best roof material ever. And I am absolutely saying that because it makes my pictures look better. 

Guard cow. Came over to see what was up.

I want pet cows. I will name them Burger, T-Bone, Kobe, Fillet and Sparkle.

Rolling hill porn.

And we'll end this brief tour of the Swiss countryside with a castle. We wanted to go inside, but it was all like "I'm closed to the public" so we were all like "BYE." And then went home and ate pizza and watched The Last Waltz and marveled yet again at Van Morrison's bedazzled track suit. Here's hoping that your weekend was equally relaxing!

Facts of Life

Friends of The Internet. Please take a moment to consider the following urgent question:

Will smuggling one of these adorable creatures into my home cause me to lose my security deposit?

P.S. Currently only acknowledging answers that rhyme with 'snow' and are followed by the phrase 'do it! name it Fred!' or variations thereof.

P.P.S. Moments after this photo was taken, I became witness to some donkey on donkey shenanigans initiated by that grinning fool in the upper left. Hilariously bothersome.

On the way home: Palleroso

On our last morning, the sun made it's first real appearance of the trip (of course) so we decided to stop at the little hilltop town of Palleroso on our way out of the area.

We had taken the drive up the day before, but the heavy rain made it impossible (and zero fun) to walk around.

The astonishing thing about Palleroso was how new it looked (well, new in the context of something that is clearly very old). It seems that Tuscany is heavy with these little towns only most are in various states of melancholy, quietly waiting for their glory days to return. Memories linger. I think it filled both of us with a little happiness that someone is clearly tending to Palleroso and looking ahead.

We waved at another charmingly small little hill town from atop our charmingly small hill town.

Views from Palleroso

The church in the small center "square." 

And then we headed homeward. Something I learned about Italian rest stops, the bigger ones have great food! The above feast is our lunch, purchased from a chain called Autogrill. Granted, our rest stop meal on the way to Barga was much...humbler, but still, a small nugget of info worth filing away.

Thanks for re-living our trip with me. I hope your Friday lets you off easy into the weekend.