The aptly-named Edelweiss Air transported us via direct flight from Vancouver to Zurich. Having previously extolled the virtues of the Vancouver airport, I will limit my commentary to the following: It Rules. Especially when it allows for direct flights to Europe.
"Cactus", the pack rat acquired on last year's road trip to Moab, was a bit miffed not to find himself in first class, but made the most of his trip nonetheless.
A mere 10+ hours after take-off (and after all the other rigamaroll) we were once again listening to church bells in Neuenkirch. Here's where Hans was baptised...and his father...and his father's father....and, of course, our own Jan. There's something to be said for tradition.
After a short afternoon nap, we were off to the "badi" (swim area) at Lake Sempach, where the guys had their first chance to paddle board.
I watched Rafe and thought, "If a novice 9 year old can do this, why can't I?" So I gave it a go. And I'm still wondering..."Why can't I?" Ahem.
Hans's younger sister, Tina ~ who works as a radiologist at the ski resort in St. Moritz in the winter (hey, life's rough in the land of cheese & chocolate!) ~ operates the badi in the summer. Every lake has an array of places where people can swim, hang out, eat, and generally enjoy summer. Like everything else in Europe, it's so much more civilized than the options State-side. Among other things, these public areas actually exist, whereas in the U.S. one either has private lake access, knows someone with private access, or sits at home watching the rubber ducky in the inflatable pool. By contrast, the Swiss share public spaces and as a result, they're all better looking, happier, and richer. Or so it seems.
The weather when we arrived was unusually hot and humid and Hans's mother wanted everyone to spend a lot of time together at the badi. And so we did. We communed with other people, we ate grilled meat and more grilled meat, and we consumed vast quantities of pommes frittes (french fries, which are considered in Europe to be genuinely refined cuisine and no wonder...they sound so much more exotic in another language).
The younger boys messed about with their same-age cousins.
The older guys messed about with their same-age cousins.
Hours were spent on the tramp.
A photographic tribute to Rivella, the purely-Swiss soft drink revered my children and all good Swiss children. Rivella is produced from milk whey, so it does have some nutritive value. Still, when I heard a flight attendant describe it to a fellow passenger as, "very healthy", I had to laugh aloud. She clearly didn't appreciate my amused reaction, but with standard Swiss diplomacy offered the addendum, "It's healthier than Coca Cola". Which, I grant, is true. But it's still odd stuff.
After a couple of days lake-side, we went for a hike (okay, a small walk) with Hans's parents.
Editorial note: I told my children to "look natural" for this photo op. Clearly, in the case of Per, it didn't work.
"Hiking" in the Swiss Alps is an altogether different pastime than hiking here at home. In the States, you don't see people practicing ridiculously labor-intensive farming methods in order to maintain ridiculously-small farms. That's because unlike in Switzerland, they don't receive ridiculously-large sums of money to do so.
And while a hike in the Cascades involves some homemade sandwiches, Switzerland offers the ever-present spot for refreshment, replete with good cheese & meat and an array of beverages.
Hiking, walking, call it what you will...this communal civility is the norm for the Swiss when they head for the hills.
I was fascinated by this man's ability to carve delicate edelweiss flowers in a matter of minutes. He told us he'd been temporarily paralyzed and, while recovering in a rehabilitation clinic, taught himself this pastime. He gifted me with some of his work ~ to be featured later in this travelogue.
Those first few days found us back at Hans's home, where his brother Daniel now lives with his family.
This has always been my favorite view from Neuholz, the family farm ~ looking out back toward the neighbor's place and, in the distance, Mount Pilatus.
We stayed right in the neighborhood, renting an apartment in the upper two floors of this farmhouse owned by a family Hans has known his whole life. It was ideal in that we were only a couple of minutes from Hans's parents' apartment in the village, and an easy walk from his siblings' homes in the area.
The view from our place.
The main living area ~ a room with a view.
Our bedroom...bright, airy, simple. I really loved it. Thanks to Andrea, the actual B&B operator...she's a gem. Speaks perfect English and serves as a great host.
Also early on we went to Luzern, an easy 20 minute drive from Hans's home village.
I confess: I frequented the Starbucks here.
Mr. Bean ~ er, Luke ~ on holiday with Per & Jan.
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