Swiss Retreat—a trip report of interest to few
Jun 26th, 2006, 09:24 AM
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Swiss Retreat—a trip report of interest to few
Unless your travel memories are made of things like the sounds of birds, trains, small boats rocking near their buoys, and silence, or the colors of dusk after a rain, sunrise on distant villages, blue hydrangeas, and the shadows cast by a vine-covered pergola, you will be bored to tears. In addition, it won’t hurt if you like art. This report cannot serve folks who want to know what to do there or will we have fun. I wasn’t even going to write it, and then I remembered a couple of people for whom I have great respect mentioning that we really are obliged to pay back (or rather pay forward) in some way for the countless hours of information and vicarious delight we receive at this wonderful forum. (Special thanks to swandav, Ingo, and schuler, who have shared my love of Switzerland and boosted my morale more times than I can say with their writing.) So here goes.
I looked up the word retreat to see if I should use it here, and my favorite dictionary (Oxford American) used phrases like withdrawal into seclusion and away from worldly activities, and I thought yes. That’s what I did. More or less on the spur of the moment, I made a plane reservation to Zurich, e-mailed my beloved Albergo Panorama on lago Maggiore to see if my room was vacant for five nights, and tried to remember what I packed in my small carry-on the last time I gave myself a rest curelette (read tiny rest cure), four summers ago.
I was apprehensive when I found that my seatmate was a man who fancied himself a dazzling conversationalist. I don’t know how much coffee and candy he had consumed before boarding, but boy, were we a mismatch. My first mistake was trying to answer his questions with single-word answers and no eye contact. “What brings you to Switzerland?” Answer “escape.” Pandora’s box. Thinking back, I should have used a less evocative word, but I don’t believe there is a reply that would have short-circuited his enthusiasm. I suppose he is one of those “people persons” I hear about but cannot altogether relate to. He wanted to know absolutely everything about my life and to share with me everything about his. I said that one of the things I respect most about the Swiss is their disinclination to pry into the lives of others or conversely to spew willy nilly the intimate details of their own. He agreed, and I said “couldn’t you just pretend that I’m Swiss?” He didn’t get it.
Much to the relief of all in the neighborhood (including a Swiss lady who was close enough and whose facial expression said that she was sharing my penance), as soon as dinner concluded, I made it clear that I intended to sleep and left him to play with the gizmos provided for those who can’t. J.
I looked up the word retreat to see if I should use it here, and my favorite dictionary (Oxford American) used phrases like withdrawal into seclusion and away from worldly activities, and I thought yes. That’s what I did. More or less on the spur of the moment, I made a plane reservation to Zurich, e-mailed my beloved Albergo Panorama on lago Maggiore to see if my room was vacant for five nights, and tried to remember what I packed in my small carry-on the last time I gave myself a rest curelette (read tiny rest cure), four summers ago.
I was apprehensive when I found that my seatmate was a man who fancied himself a dazzling conversationalist. I don’t know how much coffee and candy he had consumed before boarding, but boy, were we a mismatch. My first mistake was trying to answer his questions with single-word answers and no eye contact. “What brings you to Switzerland?” Answer “escape.” Pandora’s box. Thinking back, I should have used a less evocative word, but I don’t believe there is a reply that would have short-circuited his enthusiasm. I suppose he is one of those “people persons” I hear about but cannot altogether relate to. He wanted to know absolutely everything about my life and to share with me everything about his. I said that one of the things I respect most about the Swiss is their disinclination to pry into the lives of others or conversely to spew willy nilly the intimate details of their own. He agreed, and I said “couldn’t you just pretend that I’m Swiss?” He didn’t get it.
Much to the relief of all in the neighborhood (including a Swiss lady who was close enough and whose facial expression said that she was sharing my penance), as soon as dinner concluded, I made it clear that I intended to sleep and left him to play with the gizmos provided for those who can’t. J.
Jun 26th, 2006, 09:37 AM
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We landed at my favorite airport, the Zurich flughafen. Delta was late. No matter. Lots of renovations in the four years since I was here last. You won’t be surprised that I liked it better before. Didn’t there used to be a little airplane hanging from the ceiling? Where’s the grocery store? Oh well. Nothing could dampen my happiness. A quick stop at the sbb travel office to purchase my Swiss Pass, a few steps down to the waiting train, the 9:47 direct to Lucerne, pushed the green button to open the doors, quiet, clean, ahhh, bliss.
By 10:49 we were pulling into Lucerne’s station. My plan was to make a stop to visit the Museum Sammlung Rosengart. Left my half-empty maroon carry-on (you remember, the old kind that you actually sling over your shoulder made slightly tacky by a strip of bright green poster board I’d stapled around the strap ten years ago in order to recognize it quickly – silly moi, mine was the only bag not black on the entire plane! Folks, if your checked bag is not black, you’ll save yourself some time) in the ‘left luggage’ room downstairs (room 23, if you need it). The lockers are undergoing renovation or something. With hands free again (well holding my straw hat some of the time with my left), I bought a bratwurst and roll from a stand, with mustard only please, and stood there like Burt Wolf (brat with the waxed paper in one hand, roll in the other. Dip, bite, bite, repeat). Confession number one of many: I couldn’t really bite a hunk off of the roll; Burt has stronger teeth than me, so I had to cheat a bit and tear the roll into a few pieces first. Obviously a faux pas, but couldn’t be helped. The bratwurst was wundebar.
The Rosengart is only a couple of blocks from the station, a fine old building in which is housed a really excellent collection of mostly 20th century art (a few late 19th). I commented to the lady in the bookshop that all of the pieces were hung with great respect and in such a way that each complimented the other rather than competing, if you know what I mean. She answered that Mrs. Rosengart herself prescribed exactly how and where each artwork should be hung. After researching both the Rosengart and the Lucerne Picasso museums, I had chosen the Rosengart for my wishlist because it offered a fine selection of Picasso paintings plus a huge group of drawings, watercolors, and prints by Paul Klee. There were only a few people in the museum. It’s a place where there is time to stand or sit in front of any piece that calls your name for as long as you wish.
My favorites were Picasso’s “Jacqueline dans l’Atelier” (a reminder that reproductions can never give you the evidence of the adventurous process that painting was for Picasso), a smaller beautiful and colorful portrait of Jacqueline from 1963, and a few paintings that I’d never seen reproduced anywhere, one called “Personnage Rembranesque et Amour” from 1969, 5’ x 6’, lush reds, yellows, mauves, blacks, painted with incredible energy and confidence (duh).
On the second floor (what we would call the second), there was a small group of pieces by Pissarro, Vuillard, Seurat, Monet, and Marini. One very tiny study for Seurat’s La Grand Jatte (titled “Etude Pour Le Grand Jatte Le Chien Blanc”) was my serendipitous moment of the day. What a drop dead gorgeous little painting (perhaps 7” by 12”)! The only other artwork from the second floor that stopped my heart for a time was a small sculpture by Marini called “Piccolo Cavallo”. A charmer. Plaster, I think, painted over. Vontobel-art, a source for reproductions, lists it as gypsum.
Down to the basement for the Paul Klee collection. More than 100 small pieces. Some beautiful examples of his inventiveness, his exploration of line, his luminous (absolutely luminous) watercolors, and one 3” x 4” (that’s right) painting called “Katzen Familie” from 1913 that took my breath away. The postcard I bought of it is just about as large as the painting, but of course, it is only a shell of the real thing.
J.
By 10:49 we were pulling into Lucerne’s station. My plan was to make a stop to visit the Museum Sammlung Rosengart. Left my half-empty maroon carry-on (you remember, the old kind that you actually sling over your shoulder made slightly tacky by a strip of bright green poster board I’d stapled around the strap ten years ago in order to recognize it quickly – silly moi, mine was the only bag not black on the entire plane! Folks, if your checked bag is not black, you’ll save yourself some time) in the ‘left luggage’ room downstairs (room 23, if you need it). The lockers are undergoing renovation or something. With hands free again (well holding my straw hat some of the time with my left), I bought a bratwurst and roll from a stand, with mustard only please, and stood there like Burt Wolf (brat with the waxed paper in one hand, roll in the other. Dip, bite, bite, repeat). Confession number one of many: I couldn’t really bite a hunk off of the roll; Burt has stronger teeth than me, so I had to cheat a bit and tear the roll into a few pieces first. Obviously a faux pas, but couldn’t be helped. The bratwurst was wundebar.
The Rosengart is only a couple of blocks from the station, a fine old building in which is housed a really excellent collection of mostly 20th century art (a few late 19th). I commented to the lady in the bookshop that all of the pieces were hung with great respect and in such a way that each complimented the other rather than competing, if you know what I mean. She answered that Mrs. Rosengart herself prescribed exactly how and where each artwork should be hung. After researching both the Rosengart and the Lucerne Picasso museums, I had chosen the Rosengart for my wishlist because it offered a fine selection of Picasso paintings plus a huge group of drawings, watercolors, and prints by Paul Klee. There were only a few people in the museum. It’s a place where there is time to stand or sit in front of any piece that calls your name for as long as you wish.
My favorites were Picasso’s “Jacqueline dans l’Atelier” (a reminder that reproductions can never give you the evidence of the adventurous process that painting was for Picasso), a smaller beautiful and colorful portrait of Jacqueline from 1963, and a few paintings that I’d never seen reproduced anywhere, one called “Personnage Rembranesque et Amour” from 1969, 5’ x 6’, lush reds, yellows, mauves, blacks, painted with incredible energy and confidence (duh).
On the second floor (what we would call the second), there was a small group of pieces by Pissarro, Vuillard, Seurat, Monet, and Marini. One very tiny study for Seurat’s La Grand Jatte (titled “Etude Pour Le Grand Jatte Le Chien Blanc”) was my serendipitous moment of the day. What a drop dead gorgeous little painting (perhaps 7” by 12”)! The only other artwork from the second floor that stopped my heart for a time was a small sculpture by Marini called “Piccolo Cavallo”. A charmer. Plaster, I think, painted over. Vontobel-art, a source for reproductions, lists it as gypsum.
Down to the basement for the Paul Klee collection. More than 100 small pieces. Some beautiful examples of his inventiveness, his exploration of line, his luminous (absolutely luminous) watercolors, and one 3” x 4” (that’s right) painting called “Katzen Familie” from 1913 that took my breath away. The postcard I bought of it is just about as large as the painting, but of course, it is only a shell of the real thing.
J.
Jun 26th, 2006, 09:40 AM
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So. What a great way to spend my first couple of hours on the ground. (Yes, Ingo! The Rosengart was free with the Swiss Pass! What a kick!) This is not to say that I didn’t have my eyes glued to the train window from Zurich to Lucerne, thinking, for example “Zug and its lake, when will I find time to stop in rather than pass by?” My next move – onto one of the “4 cantons lake’s” paddlewheelers (yes, I got lucky) to see if the water is still so green. Did I say I was on my way to Lago Maggiore? My travel MO in Switzerland is not always the most direct. Truth be told, it was Wednesday. On Wednesdays, the Albergo Panorama is sort of closed (well, if you’re already there, you have your own key). The chef doesn’t cook on that day. He and his team do the week’s big shopping from morning until late afternoon. Axel asked me if I could dawdle a bit and arrive late. No problemo. Dawdle is what I do best.
Where was I? The lakeboat. Swisspass first (my big splurge) gets me up on the top deck in the shade, breeze blowing, schoolkids’ outings on the bottom deck (I’m a teacher, spare me). A tall cold bottle of Ramseier Sussmost. Say what you will, this stuff is one of my Swiss treats. It’s how I spell refresh. You’re probably thinking, she forgot to pick up her bag in room 23. Well almost. The second part of my lakeboat plan is to check out after many, many years (I think I was last on these particular green waters sometime in the late 70’s) the lake towns of Weggis (S!), Vitznau, and Gersau, before landing at Brunnen to re-train for the remainder of my journey south. All three seem to have condos bigger than I’m used to including in my vistas, but they are pretty, nevertheless. I was, by this time, getting kind of dozey, so I didn’t make any on the spot notes to contrast the three towns. Sorry. I can say that I would not select Brunnen, but it’s never been on my short list anyway.
The day was heating up, so my satchel felt like it was heavier than when I started out. (Some of you may know that I’m a 62-year-old flatlander.) I had a minimally detailed map of Brunnen from maporama, I think. Better than nothing. I knew where I was and where the station was, but the on-the-ground view of things and a crow’s view of place (and always remember that it is much flattened) are two distinctly different things. I’ve a poor sense of direction. For example, whenever I get on a train, it is most likely that I will seat myself facing the wrong way, so that I end up riding backwards. I’d rather not.)
Just about that moment, the troop of school kids marched off the boat two-across and chanting, heading out as if with great purpose. So I followed them on the premise that they probably had had their boat trip and were now returning to base via the train. Yes. Not only did they save me a number of wrong turns, but keeping up with them moved me along a bit faster than I would have. The only time I had to backtrack was as we approached the station proper. Those of you who travel in Switzerland (or probably all over Europe) in towns big and small, will have noticed that your approach to the station often involves pedestrian tunnels or at the very least, walking routes which do not obviously appear to be going where you intend. Thus, while I made much better time getting to the train station vicinity, the boy scouts (probably) were going in a different direction from me, so I had to backtrack down an incline and through a tunnel to find the particular labyrinthine route to my own track. This is probably a small town thing, yes? Where your route to your track begins to diverge from others way before you are actually at the station. Regular commuters know that two blocks before they even see the station, they’ll take this little side street, then go under this track, then up some steps and voila, there you are.
The above paragraph is an example of the minutia that I find interesting when I travel.
Where was I? The lakeboat. Swisspass first (my big splurge) gets me up on the top deck in the shade, breeze blowing, schoolkids’ outings on the bottom deck (I’m a teacher, spare me). A tall cold bottle of Ramseier Sussmost. Say what you will, this stuff is one of my Swiss treats. It’s how I spell refresh. You’re probably thinking, she forgot to pick up her bag in room 23. Well almost. The second part of my lakeboat plan is to check out after many, many years (I think I was last on these particular green waters sometime in the late 70’s) the lake towns of Weggis (S!), Vitznau, and Gersau, before landing at Brunnen to re-train for the remainder of my journey south. All three seem to have condos bigger than I’m used to including in my vistas, but they are pretty, nevertheless. I was, by this time, getting kind of dozey, so I didn’t make any on the spot notes to contrast the three towns. Sorry. I can say that I would not select Brunnen, but it’s never been on my short list anyway.
The day was heating up, so my satchel felt like it was heavier than when I started out. (Some of you may know that I’m a 62-year-old flatlander.) I had a minimally detailed map of Brunnen from maporama, I think. Better than nothing. I knew where I was and where the station was, but the on-the-ground view of things and a crow’s view of place (and always remember that it is much flattened) are two distinctly different things. I’ve a poor sense of direction. For example, whenever I get on a train, it is most likely that I will seat myself facing the wrong way, so that I end up riding backwards. I’d rather not.)
Just about that moment, the troop of school kids marched off the boat two-across and chanting, heading out as if with great purpose. So I followed them on the premise that they probably had had their boat trip and were now returning to base via the train. Yes. Not only did they save me a number of wrong turns, but keeping up with them moved me along a bit faster than I would have. The only time I had to backtrack was as we approached the station proper. Those of you who travel in Switzerland (or probably all over Europe) in towns big and small, will have noticed that your approach to the station often involves pedestrian tunnels or at the very least, walking routes which do not obviously appear to be going where you intend. Thus, while I made much better time getting to the train station vicinity, the boy scouts (probably) were going in a different direction from me, so I had to backtrack down an incline and through a tunnel to find the particular labyrinthine route to my own track. This is probably a small town thing, yes? Where your route to your track begins to diverge from others way before you are actually at the station. Regular commuters know that two blocks before they even see the station, they’ll take this little side street, then go under this track, then up some steps and voila, there you are.
The above paragraph is an example of the minutia that I find interesting when I travel.
Jun 26th, 2006, 09:43 AM
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Back on the train. This is as good a time as any to correct something I wrote in a post a month or so ago. Contrary to my memory, the train cars no longer seem to carry destination cards on them. Perhaps this only occurs when a train is going to split en route. The track banners (or whatever you call the changing signs hanging near the tracks) do change to reflect the next train to arrive at a particular track. And I still love the blue charts which show you exactly at which position along the track you should be standing for a particular set of cars.
The scenery between Fluelen and Bellinzona changes with every mile. Blink and you’ll miss something so unlike where you come from that your brain practically tingles with new grooves. The mountains, tunnels, bridges (over which I thank my lucky stars I am not driving) pass by, and the flora changes, the houses change, the language. In Cadenazzo, just before Locarno, I changed from train to bus (the one headed for Dirinella). The last train connection to Gerra had already left Cadenazzo for Luino at 17:52. We wound through neighborhoods and towns, finally to the lake and along its via cantonale to Magadino, Vira, San Nazzaro, and Gerra Gambarogno, where I got off at the Post Office stop.
Hot. No one about. The one little grocery store was closed for the day. The Albergo al Portico (the Panorama’s competition decorated with murals on the street side, but eliminated from my consideration years ago as soon as I found out that I could have my very own 3’ x 4’ sea-side balcony instead), open for business, was attracting a couple of cars with fanciful little awnings shading the open back windows, or were they hatchbacks with little striped awnings? Something to think about when I’m more awake. I’d already decided that for me, night life would include a shower, cheese and crackers, the bottle of lemonade I purchased somewhere, an hour or so to watch the lights come on across the lake, and bed.
Not to break the exquisite spell that I’ve cast upon those of you who travel two-star and savor every second, but I’ve got to tuck in a practical thank you here to two people, whose logos I cannot recall, who advised me re my cell phone decisions. I hope you’ll know who you are. The quad band world phone worked a treat. There were loved ones with whom I needed to stay in touch, and T Mobile never let me down.
I’ll write more when I can. No doubt the remaining days will require fewer words. You know how the first day is. Everything is just so Switzerland, you are almost delirious with the joy of the beginning. J.
The scenery between Fluelen and Bellinzona changes with every mile. Blink and you’ll miss something so unlike where you come from that your brain practically tingles with new grooves. The mountains, tunnels, bridges (over which I thank my lucky stars I am not driving) pass by, and the flora changes, the houses change, the language. In Cadenazzo, just before Locarno, I changed from train to bus (the one headed for Dirinella). The last train connection to Gerra had already left Cadenazzo for Luino at 17:52. We wound through neighborhoods and towns, finally to the lake and along its via cantonale to Magadino, Vira, San Nazzaro, and Gerra Gambarogno, where I got off at the Post Office stop.
Hot. No one about. The one little grocery store was closed for the day. The Albergo al Portico (the Panorama’s competition decorated with murals on the street side, but eliminated from my consideration years ago as soon as I found out that I could have my very own 3’ x 4’ sea-side balcony instead), open for business, was attracting a couple of cars with fanciful little awnings shading the open back windows, or were they hatchbacks with little striped awnings? Something to think about when I’m more awake. I’d already decided that for me, night life would include a shower, cheese and crackers, the bottle of lemonade I purchased somewhere, an hour or so to watch the lights come on across the lake, and bed.
Not to break the exquisite spell that I’ve cast upon those of you who travel two-star and savor every second, but I’ve got to tuck in a practical thank you here to two people, whose logos I cannot recall, who advised me re my cell phone decisions. I hope you’ll know who you are. The quad band world phone worked a treat. There were loved ones with whom I needed to stay in touch, and T Mobile never let me down.
I’ll write more when I can. No doubt the remaining days will require fewer words. You know how the first day is. Everything is just so Switzerland, you are almost delirious with the joy of the beginning. J.
Jun 26th, 2006, 11:31 AM
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jw!
I can't tell you -- !!
I can't tell you how joyous it is to read your report!
I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying every single little sensual detail -- the descriptions, the sensations, the conversations!! It's a vicarious feast!
I can't tell you how much I share your bliss on the first train in Switzerland!! aaahhhh. Relax now.
I can't tell you how overjoyed I am to hear and see your wonderful retreat!
Really looking forward to (lots) more!
s
I can't tell you -- !!
I can't tell you how joyous it is to read your report!
I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying every single little sensual detail -- the descriptions, the sensations, the conversations!! It's a vicarious feast!
I can't tell you how much I share your bliss on the first train in Switzerland!! aaahhhh. Relax now.
I can't tell you how overjoyed I am to hear and see your wonderful retreat!
Really looking forward to (lots) more!
s
Jun 26th, 2006, 11:46 AM
#8
Hi J:
Toll! Prima! Bravo! Mega Geil! Looking forward to hearing more.
Interesting comment about Brunnen. I think Weggis, Vitznau and Gersau are prettier too. However, Brunnen has a train station and is a wonderful place to spend a few hours by the lake. Walk from the ferry dock past the Waldstätterhof until the end of the path and then come back.
Looking forward to hearing about Ticino.
Toll! Prima! Bravo! Mega Geil! Looking forward to hearing more.
Interesting comment about Brunnen. I think Weggis, Vitznau and Gersau are prettier too. However, Brunnen has a train station and is a wonderful place to spend a few hours by the lake. Walk from the ferry dock past the Waldstätterhof until the end of the path and then come back.
Looking forward to hearing about Ticino.
Jun 26th, 2006, 03:50 PM
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No, I can usually tell snotty people at first glance and keep my distance.
The person was probally excited about the trip and all. I have seen people like that, but I I try and be a little more friendly to people as we take this *big* journey on planet earth.
The person was probally excited about the trip and all. I have seen people like that, but I I try and be a little more friendly to people as we take this *big* journey on planet earth.
Jun 26th, 2006, 04:25 PM
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Ahhhh, I think I'm in heaven reading your report. The green waters of the lake, pushing the button on the train, mesmerized by the scenery going by - absolutely delightful!
We had the joy of staying in a suite at the Park Hotel in Vitznau a few years ago. Oh my, what a hotel! It was a real splurge for us. It was over the Swiss national holiday, with dinner and dancing at the water's edge and fireworks on the lake.
Looking forward to the rest.
We had the joy of staying in a suite at the Park Hotel in Vitznau a few years ago. Oh my, what a hotel! It was a real splurge for us. It was over the Swiss national holiday, with dinner and dancing at the water's edge and fireworks on the lake.
Looking forward to the rest.
Jun 27th, 2006, 03:13 AM
#19
Marigross,
Will you be in Lucerne on the evening of July 4th? I've organised a city guide for my English students and still have space for more participants. Cost: SFr. 10-15 for a two hour tour.
We'd love to have some native English speakers with us.
Will you be in Lucerne on the evening of July 4th? I've organised a city guide for my English students and still have space for more participants. Cost: SFr. 10-15 for a two hour tour.
We'd love to have some native English speakers with us.
Jun 27th, 2006, 09:35 AM
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wow, sunstar, truly uncalled for.
The op has been tending diligently to family matters and postponing this trip for four years; I imagine the first moments on the plane were drops of unmitigated joy that the op only wanted to relish. The boorish interloper was more than just dense; he was a joy-kill.
Speaking as an introvert, I find that talkative people literally drain the energy right out of me. It's not benign. I protect myself against their "excitement" by being a lot more rude than jmw was. I applaud jmw's restraint and attempt at tact!
Go, jw, go!
s
The op has been tending diligently to family matters and postponing this trip for four years; I imagine the first moments on the plane were drops of unmitigated joy that the op only wanted to relish. The boorish interloper was more than just dense; he was a joy-kill.
Speaking as an introvert, I find that talkative people literally drain the energy right out of me. It's not benign. I protect myself against their "excitement" by being a lot more rude than jmw was. I applaud jmw's restraint and attempt at tact!
Go, jw, go!
s
