Rugged Switzerland

Most everyone has seen photographs of the Alps. However, the exposed energy and strength of these mountains and the terrain that surrounds them cannot be captured in a photo. It was not until I saw these peaks that I could truly understand Mary Shelley’s descriptions of her creature and his innate place in this landscape.
After visiting the Jungfrau, Chamonix, and other Swiss cites I can better understand how someone could be inspired to write a novel like Frankenstein. On the days when the rain fell or the fog closed off the world, movements in the distance become menacing. Even on clear days the sight of the desolate rock above the tree line allows for the idea that the only thing that could survive up there would be something supernatural. Humanity does not seem to be enough, our frailties become apparent against such a stark, natural plane.
This setting also inspires the idea that more is possible than any person originally thought. Sitting down around Lake Geneva and looking up at the mountains allows a person to see the beauty of the mountains and be awed by them, but the true Swiss experience comes from walking in the mountains. To walk in the rough terrain, to see the terrifying distance below, as well as the unforgiving heights above is a raw experience when a human can truly feel his/her separation from what is natural. With these views surrounding a person, the idea that strange and shocking things are possible becomes not only acceptable, but knowable.
Having seen the heights and depths of the stark, foreboding landscapes that Mary Shelley described, I can no longer see her words as Romantic techniques. Her creation seems to be an organic part of the landscape, an extension of humanities necessary absence in this region. The Swiss landscape seems to have been created for Mary Shelley’s creature.

Final Post-- Where is the Power?

One does not know what one is until one examines the “other”. Just as something or someone does not have power simply by existing, but is given power through others who create fear. Such are the ideas that Percy Shelly present in his poem “Mont Blanc.” The relationship between nature and the human mind is daunting and drives the literary content of this poem while Shelly works through his observations. The question of whether power exist in the mind or in nature drives Shelly’s poem as it also exist as a response to William Wordsworth and his views on nature.

While Wordsworth, in his poem “Tintem Abbey”, emphasizes the flow of life from nature to the human mind, Shelly does the opposite. Shelly makes an argument for the power that eternally exists already in the mind. Shelly writes, “My own, my human mind, which passively/Now renders and receives fast influencing, / Holding an unremitting interchange/ With the clear universe of things around” (37-40). While Shelly definitely does not deny the power of nature, he supports the idea that our minds give power to things.

Throughout the poem Shelly makes it clear that the power of nature has a hold over him, the power that he gives to nature. In the second part of the poem Shelly begins addressing the Arve River. Shelly describes a majestic yet dark world “Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down/ From the gulfs that gird his secret through /Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame” (16-18). As seen in the last quoted lines, Shelly takes on a particular technique that persists throughout the poem. By capitalizing the word “power” Shelly emphasizes the word and meaning even more. This technique is seen often in poetry and was especially made famous by Emily Dickinson.

The peak of the poem seems to come with the appearance of Mont Blanc. Shelly paints in words the process of the mind trying to encompass what the eyes see. Mont Blanc seems to include all of what the word “power” means. Shelly describes a powerful nature and mountain with “a mysterious tongue/ Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild, / So solemn, so serene, that man may be/ But for such faith with nature reconciled” (75-78). Shelly’s description of nature seems to be open and transparent, like it has the ability to be molded to the curves of the individual mind.

Shelly’s views on the human mind seem to have the power to be linked to nature, be killed by nature and triumph over nature. However, it is clear that Shelly thinks man is superior to nature because nature would be nothings without man thinking about it. In the last stanza Shelly reflects on a hidden strength that rules over things. Shelly’s power seemed to end up residing in the art that the mind creates. Where nature and man seem to create ambiguities, for Shelly and others alike art holds a deeper truth.

Final Post: Reflections on Coleridge's "Chamouny; The Hour Before Sunrise. A Hymn"

In Chamouny; The Hour Before Sunrise. A Hymn, Samuel Coleridge calling on God through nature. He asks himself to awake and then the mountains to join him in his calling of God. It is written, "Hand and voice,/ Awake, awake! And though, my heart, awake!/ Awake, ye rocks! Ye forest pines, awake!/ Green fields and icy cliffs, all join my hymn!" (Coleridge lines 23-26). He is calling on nature to worship God as he does. He refers to the mountain itself as his "co-herald" and asks that it "Wake, oh wake, and utter praise!" (line 33). He then asks several questions of who made the mountains and all of their glory, asking about its streams, the icy dens, jagged rocks, and in general, the mountain's very being.
Coleridge spends a great deal of time personifying the mountains. He gives them qualities of joy, fury, and strength (line 43). He asks who made these mountains, and who commanded them to be as they are. For this reason he personifies them, asking who allowed them to have these qualities. He refers to a mighty voice which is slightly confusing, because it is not entirely clear as to whether he thinks the mighty voice is God or nature. It is as if he wants to hear the mighty voice of nature, but he wants to hear it praise God for being created.
In the end of the poem Coleridge makes it fairly obvious that he wants all nature to sing with him in praise to God for creation. The last line of the poem, "Earth with her thousand voices calls on God!" (line 78) shows that he intends to praise God for Earth and nature-- but that he also wants nature to take part in praise for being created.

Refreshed and Restored

Now that I am back home, I must think about how the Romantic authors viewed their own homecomings to places like London and Paris. Leaving the fresh mountain air and breathing again the smog of the city, I feel connected to the idea of the mountains as a cleansing and transformative place. The act of travelling, almost as much as the destination itself, has filtered my thoughts and body, as well as my mind.

The Romantics were all about the travel, the process of removing oneself from "home" and going to a place of otherness. This causes the place of comfort and stability to be held in contrast to new and different surroundings. By seeing the ways the Alps differed from Cincinnati, I can see what the Romantics were getting at by trying to get back to nature.

The re-emerging views of nature as a sentient life force, as seen in Percy Shelley's "Mont Blanc," are part of the Romantics new manifesto. Percy shows the wilderness as having

"...a mysterious tongue
which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,
so solemn, so serene that man may be
but for such faith with nature reconciled."

Far from saying that modern Switzerland is still a wilderness, we could still see the rawness of the earth, untouched by the hands and machines of man. Coming home and flying over subdivisions and shopping malls, I can see how necessary it was for a removal from all we are familiar with to get the real meaning behind what the Romantics were saying. While I have been to parks and caves, I have never before spent so much time completely surrounded by all that Switzerland offered; forests, mountains, and streams completely true to their geologic birth.

The doubt and faith Shelley talks about is the idea that this planet on which we live lives under us. It is a breathing, moving, changing entity that has as equal a hand in our lives as any deity man has imagined. The Romantics saw in Switzerland a cathedral to nature, and made pilgrimages there to worship and study its power.

The Romantics

Now, what about Romanticism? How has Romanticism influenced our understanding of the Alps and our own view of nature?

The Romantics certainly did change the way modern man would view the Alps. We no longer concentrate on their "horror." We may contemplate their vastness and man's relative smallness by comparison, but we see their beauty and we see them as an adventure! How many hikers with special hiking gear have we seen here! Men and women do not run from the Alps; they run to them. I appreciate the Romantics influence upon our image of the Alps, and the whole paradigm shift. I do believe it would have been more interesting/life-changing to have read their works before our minds were already removed from the image of old myths and residual fear of the mountains. How we would have wondered...and contemplated the meaning of those words (of the Romantic poets). So, it is hard to say how much our lives would have changed if we were to have read their works 150 plus years ago. We might have agreed. We might have disagreed! Nevertheless, we are indebted to them at this time in history and to the writers before them who recognized the beauty in the Alps (the mountain flowers, streams, and pines). Due to the writings of such individuals, I do not fear the mountains, and I was able to approach them without fear (though I do see the potential danger in the glaciers). I am glad to have experienced the new truth of their loveliness and beauty. Aren't you? ;D

Suisse

I wanted to say that the Alps are ever as fresh with me today as they were a year ago! They formed a special presence--they and the fresh, Swiss air. Ah! What unexpected little treasures were to be found there, at least for someone like me. I hope to one day visit Lake Brienz (in Bern) which I saw from the train but never personally experienced! Its waters were so beautiful. I will surely go there!

The Adventure Part Four

Well as our trip comes to a close I am left changed and with many different thoughts and questions to think about. This trip allowed a wonderful balance of learning both hands on and textually. Through seeing what is and has been seen by many great writers and thinkers, I have been inspired to reexamine my own thoughts and ideas. I am very sad to leave, as I love seeing the splendor of the Alps every morning and evening. Though home is a wonderful thing to have, I have found that traveling is a wonderful home and I am very comfortable doing so. Two things have struck me most deeply throughout this trip. The first thing that strikes me is how people are inspired to write great works, be it literature, music, or poetry. In classes I am given advice on how to find inspiration for my writing. "Read other authors great works", "Read the classics", "Listen to great music", "Read wonderful poetry", "Attend poetry readings", etc. All of these are wonderful ideas to find inspiration for writing, however I am curious as to where original inspiration comes from. If I am constantly seeking inspiration through other individuals thoughts and ideas can any of mine truly be original. To be completely honest, I have had the worst writers block of my life for months. I am capable of writing, however, what I do write is just bad writing. I realized one reason is that when I try to write I first seek other writings or songs for inspiration and then my own thoughts are clouded by the thoughts of others. This has all dawned on me through this trip and by looking at the Alps I think of Byron and his inspiration coming from things that don't include words, such as emotion, religion, and nature. THAT is inspiring to me.
The second thing that struck me (and this is no surprise) is the awesomeness of the nature with which I have been surrounded for three weeks. I traditionally try to appreciate nature around me, be it a sunset in Bowling Green Kentucky or a starry night in the countryside of Indiana, I usually try not to take my surroundings for granted especially the sky. But here, it is just so amazing. So beautifully created and mapped out by God alone. Truly a work of art. While spending the day in a hot spring looking up and being surrounded by some of the most majestic mountains known to man... I was in awe of God's work. And so utterly thankful for it.
If God created the Earth so amazingly, imagine how he created us. Our individual selves are so awesome and amazing... our souls are metaphorically like the Alps in greatness. The amount of beauty put into the Alps shows God's work, imagine the work that could be in us.
I guess what I am trying to say is my list of "counting my blessings" has grown quite rapidly in these past three weeks.

I have of course been thinking about several of our discussions on evil and danger in nature and man-- some of those thoughts can be seen in my previous posts. I would like to take my last moments here to appreciate the beauty and good rather than dwell and contemplate the bad of the Alps.

Godspeed to Switzerland, until we meet again!

GOD BLESS!

Saying Goodbye to Switzerland

For the last day the shade seems to have been closing over Switzerland. As we prepared to leave and took care of last minute details, the mountains have been shaded in fog. I realized that contemplating the mountains has been one of the main focuses of our stay here. They have been our companions at every turn and their absence while on the lake was noticeable. The physical presence of the mountains deeply affected the writers who experienced this area and, after seeing them myself, I can understand why. The influence of the mountains is present in every activity, every moment of the day.
The mountains overwhelm your view, but they are never old. In each moment the light in the mountains change. The colors and shadows shift and reform as the day passes. Similarly we could see the changes in our thoughts on the literature while here. As we sat on the stones in the dungeon of Chillon and then on top of the mountain at Derborence the literature was put into a different light. We were no long passive readers, but active participants in the moment. Switzerland deepened the understanding that knowledge is like climbing a mountain. As we conquer a peak and feel that we know something, we are shown another higher peak.

Looking Outside the Body. . . Final Blog

I like to think of our study abroad trip to Switzerland as a reenactment. As we followed the same steps as the Romantic writers and poets, we seemed to be mimicking their same discovery. Since our group has been one of the first, if not the first to study abroad in Switzerland from Western Kentucky University, I see us all as pioneers. Like the romantics we had to see both faces of the Alps. Through our study we saw the Alps as both a healing entity and cruel destiny. C.F. Ramuz painted the mountains in dark words and stressed the cruelness of the mountains and hostility of nature. However, Johanna Spyri emphasized the healing power of the Alps in the classic, Heidi. Writers of the Alps went through individual journeys in discovering the sublime. What is sublime to one is not to someone else. According to the German philosopher Immanuel Kant our mind and how it is raised says what is sublime. This is the same journey we took on ourselves. Discovering ourselves through our relationship with nature and the power to transport ourselves out of the norm. Part of what made up the Romantic writers was the need to search for the sublime and understanding, analyzing, and critiquing the surroundings in order to put together the pieces to larger questions.
Our relationship with the mountains can be haunting and full filling. The experience we have had over the past three weeks was about making connections. One cannot understand themselves until they leave their normal environment. This is the tradition the Romantic writers began. Their writing began the tourism tradition in the Alps and took some fear out of the mountains. Yet the madness continues. We continue to make expeditions to try to understand nature and massive mountains. With the hopes of understanding the other, one feels that they can better understand themselves. This tradition continues like the tradition of writing. We build off of the writers we read; we continue the conversations. We answer questions, and then we state a dozen more. But it is this cycle that makes us crazy and makes us sane. We continue to write and read, study and travel. We are human and must look outside the body.

Fear and loathing in Gryon, Switzerland

I feel so insignificant when compared to these mountains. Sitting and looking out the tiny windows of my impromptu meditative study room, the chalets on the opposite mountain remind me how small I am; remind me of my tiny existence when compared to these vast and jagged hillsides. I've missed so many things being here:, people, ideas, my animals, and 24-hour-service, but I have also gained. I've gained the chill feel to an evening dinner under the mountains with the fellowship of great friends and teachers; I've gained the excited late night scramble of train schedules and study sessions where my fellows students and I scour some specific romantic idea or memory or another; I've gained the soothing sound of water pounding from cliffs, wind in the pines, and meditation to the inhalation of smooth and sweet Alpine air...

Three weeks come and go more quickly than one can prepare for. One can read the material, prepare for the worst, communicate as often as possible and still be surprised. In the presence of such sublimity, such profound and unexplainable beauty, little is left to the imagination. I feel all and every minute of my journeys could not have been planned, could not have been sought for originally. Every endeavor I've encountered here, I've taken on the whim, and I am glad for that. Sure, some excursions have been planned and monitored, but for the most part, all our off-the-cuff plans have been the most rewarding. Having no phone, no parents, nothing but 20 francs, a few dried pieces of bread and chocolate, two pictures of your lover and animals, and a map explaining your limits as far as European public transportation goes is as free as it gets. Coming from an environment of straight-lined, narrow passages, I appreciated the freedom the Alps provided. I appreciated my moments of solitude, my moments of survival, however minute they appeared to others, and I especially enjoyed my other 11 comrades of travel with whom I met and became close.

I came to the Alps expecting great changes, refreshing air, and the best study of my lifetime. Reading specific literature written for this land, inspired by this land, and standing in exact locations of some of the greatest writers to live great to be intimidating. I found myself wondering if I was lacking some sort of creativity supposedly inspired by the very mountains I happened to be staring at, or if I were perhaps in the wrong place at the wrong time. But now I know the Alps are very personal. You're supposed to be a little mixed up and confused in these environments. Those big giants are supposed to intimidate us. Hell, they've been here longer than we can imagine, and they'll outlive us by centuries, most likely. How could they not wield the power? How could they not determine our destinies, our expectations for the future? The people of these lands have suffered because of this very sublime we praise. They have known the turmoil, the aching faith of this harsh land. Yet I still feel uplifted when I look out my skylight and see these pine tree felted hillsides.

The Mountains and all their glorious splendor...

When we arrived here in Gryon, my eyes never looked at my feet. My neck was sore, looking up at a sight that I have never experienced. The air was thinner than what I was used to, the sun was closer to my face, the feeling of insignificance washed over me. I was merely another life form, come to stay on the mountains for a few nights. Nothing like the trees, the sheep, the grass, the snow, the fog, that is supposed to be residing on the mountains. For once, it wasn't natural for me to present in an area. These mountains were their before us, they are here during us, they will be here after us. 

Traveling across Switzerland, seeing the Mountains, the Lakes, the Castles, the Waterfall, I can see why these Romantic writers would be so inspired to lay words down on paper, in such a combination that placed themselves into Literature books. We went to the Prison of Chillon, to Waterfall where a character fell to his death, we climbed to the edge of a demolished village. Seeing the imagination come to life is in itself, an experience that few have had the chance to enjoy.

Many write about how beautiful, how brave, how pensive, the mountains are. However, those are the thoughts of travelers and a few natives. Most of the natives know the history, know the lives under the mountain, know what has happened under their feet. Coming off the hikes, the Swiss look at us as if to say "Why would you do that?", they climb the mountains everyday, not for recreation, they have to, it's their home. After reading Kant, the idea of the sublime, makes a student realize that the mountains are just their, they have no life force, no soul. The Swiss have their own opinion, travelers have theirs.

The mountains are not here for our recreation, they are here as a habitat to creatures that are meant to survive on them. Those where life is not meant to thrive, the mountain lets it be known.  The Mountains are indeed beautiful, indeed strong in stature, indeed frightening, moving, inspiring, fearless. But, those ideas are of just another traveler.

The mountains and all their glorious splendor...

Overall Impact of the Swiss Alps

Where do I start? I can completely see how the Romantics were inspired by the beauty of Switzerland and the Alps. A lifetime wouldn't be long enough to take this all in, let alone three weeks. I have absolutely loved it here: the lifestyle, the people, the food, the nature... everything. The mountains are the most glorious thing I have ever seen. The Alps never cease to take my breath away no matter what time of day I gaze upon them. One of my favorite things about this trip has been that every night when I go to bed and every morning when I wake up, the first thing I see is this stunning landscape.

I could stare at the mountains for hours and it would never get old. Each time I look at them, I continue to be in awe. Though, I still haven't captured the idea of the mountains being evil like we discussed in some of our texts. To me, they're intimidating and humbling, but not vindictive. Maybe if I would have visited or lived here when some of these writers did, I could understand, but the main thing I CAN relate to is how inspirational the mountains are. I have thoroughly enjoyed every second of this study abroad. I don't want to leave, but have to return to real life.

Munich, Germany

This past weekend Adrianna, Morgan & I went to Munich, Germany. We stayed with a German family whose son is a friend of Adrianna's. I thought that Switzerland and Italy were culture shocks... holy cow- Germany was the biggest of them all! The German language is practically impossible to guess and the lifestyle is so unlike America.

Our first night we all went to a festival (kind of like a mini Octoberfest). There were so many people, loud music, and beer. People danced, sang and stood on the tables in a way that was refreshing. I feel like in America, we are all so worried about what other people think and too consumed with stresses of life to cut loose and have fun. The Germans are the definition of fun and entertainment- no matter what time of day.

The next day we shopped... ALOT! Munich is full of inexpensive places and beautiful buildings. We were all amazed by the fact that every time we turned around there was an old, majestic building with all these new, modern shops in it. After walking around and shopping for hours, we went for lunch at an authentic German restaurant called Hofbrauhaus (HB for short). This place was HUGE and full of German culture and tradition. They served the beer steins and had a live band. Beautiful architecture, big tables, and amazing food all accompanied our true German experience. It was delightful.

Sadly, after a couple more hours tooling around, our day came to an end as did our Germany adventure. I really was surprised at how much I enjoyed the culture. I was expecting mean, cruel people (like Hitler) and dirty streets and buildings. I was completely wrong. I really was blown away by how wonderful everything was. I would love to go back one day so that I could spend some more time in this beautiful country.

Up Where the Air is Rarified

Looking back on our three weeks together as a studious bunch of people, I have to make sure to follow the path set down by the Romantics, the seekers of the Alps' knowledge, that came before. They came to this wilderness in the sky looking for deeper meanings to the functions of the world, yearned for more vertical height between them and the plebeian men and women toiling fruitlessly for some other being. The Romantics, Byron, the Shelley's, Wordsworth, and others, wanted to get above the clouds of industry and consumerism, and move to the restorative mountains, in their majestic glory, to wipe their lungs and minds clean.

But the mountains are like all other incarnations of the Divine; they are beautiful and deadly, healing and intimidating, fertile and desolate. The people who spent millenia eking out a living in the crags and narrow valleys thought the Romantics were crazy. Who would want to climb a mountain? For fun, nonetheless. That was one of my first thoughts upon deciding to come here: I will not climb anything unless something above is worth getting or something below is worth escaping. But climb I did, and for no real purpose other than putting one foot in front of the other.
In the course of my study, I have scaled two Alps, crossed rivers, ridden innumerable trains, swum in Lake Geneva and the Adriatic Sea. I have heard the moo's and baa's of cows and sheep, and used earplugs to drown out the racket of their bells. But I feel like the mountains have taught me something each day. Whether it be the fierce strength of independence or a grand love of cheese and chocolate, I feel a connection with the Romantic view of Switzerland. The mountains have power, and the air is clear. With each firm in my mind I am ready to return home with a new view.

Fear from the Feet of the Jungfrau

Peals of thunder tear through the sky,

Snow capped mountains, appear and reappear

Through the clouds of grey and white.

The Jungfrau, majestic, terrifying, arise above the clouds.

Waterfalls, spread across the mountainside, cascade

down, finding their ways into the river that

Can be heard at a constant rhythm. The

Mountain, omnipresent, stays beautiful, terrifying,

Lifeless.

Natives fain away because its fear. The Jungfrau

Overpowers that natural human instinct to expand.

To climb to the top, to achieve that feeling of 

Conquering, is diminished by fear that is invoked 

Into our souls.

We cannot conquer the mountain, it will conquer us,

It will out last us. Isolating itself from the rest of the world,

Closer to the Divine, the natural Babel of the world. 

People are not meant to achieve that level, thus the Mountain,

The Divine, cuts us down, letting us know its power.

......................................................................................................

Deep dark deathlike solitude

These days I find myself wondering if I take everything from the Alps that I must. I find myself literally documenting moments, feelings, realizations in my journal and to others. My good comrade Chad and I have been meditating together; having wholesome discussions on the Alps, what they mean, what they signify to ourselves and those who have come before us. Lately, we've been discussing Percy and Mary Shelley, Lord Byron, and the ideal of some higher power in relation to these beautiful creations brought before our very eyes. We discuss what it means to be alive and young just below Mont Blanc (where  Mary Shelley's creature retreated during times of persecution), and just below the Jungfrau (where Manfred considered diving to his certain death). At the end of my nightly contemplation I find I relate to both the creature and Manfred: I understand the mountains becoming modes of solitude, methods of escape.

How could these mountains not be considered refuge? How could this fresh air not provide necessary means for health, for understanding, for hopefulness? Personally, I came here seeking these same truths. I understand Shelley's creature's plight, I understand his need for seclusion, for aloneness, his need for acceptance. And it's easy to become lost in these caves, these mere rocks with snow.

However, these mountains provide more for me than romance and great, clean air. Just the other night, a few of us fixed dinner together. We popped a few corks, ate amazing soups, and watched the sunset reflect from the Dent du Midi. The sheep's bells were going nut and the rain had just put the most perfect chill to the air. There wasn't much but great conversation, the smell of fresh roses, and the occasional twitter of the BVB's horn signaling another trip up the mountain, another trip down...

The Adventure Part Three

Today we had a wonderful discussion about Byron's Manfred since we are staying the night in view of the very mountains in which much of the dramatic poem took place. The paradoxical idea of living a life for individuality and pursuing truth and understanding inwardly versus accepting and seeking life and fulfillment outside of ones self is a constant theme of the traditional Byronic hero. The constant question seems to be should one find solace simply in ones individuality, or is that even possible? Can happiness and fulfillment be found without contributing to society, by denying it and living in nature? Surely a person cannot thrive in nature alone-- is there purpose to a seemingly purposeless life? But can one positively contribute anything to society without first contributing to his or her self? These were the questions of the evening while staring up at the beautifully intimidating mountains and wondering about the sublime. What is nature and what is it in man? What of the evil of this world that Byron was so clearly aware existed-- does it have an affect on nature at all, or can nature even be given a quality such as evil? Nature is nature and thus has no human characteristics, is evil a human or living characteristic? These questions are seemingly overwhelming, yet hold the focus of Manfred.

Tonight while discussing, I realized something while staring at a waterfall very high up in the Alps. We call these waterfalls and mountains beautiful and powerful, but think about that waterfall that you personify with the term "beautiful". If a person were standing on that cliff about to fall he or she would be scared, or nervous... the water simply falls with no care. Why? Because it is water... it has no human characteristics. Does this mean we cannot see beauty in it? No, certainly there can be beauty with in nature, but I can't help but to think of Kant's thoughts about the sublime. I will end this without getting into a new discussion over Kant's work and ideas. This is all for now, God Bless! Let the adventure continue!

Such A Pretty Ugly

On Monday, we went to the Chateau de Coppet, the house of Madame de Stael. In her day, the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Mme de Stael was one of the brightest minds in Europe. She hosted salons that were able to pull some of the great thinkers away from London and Paris, bringing them to the Alps for some fresh air and new ideas. The house above, which she inherited through the death of her first husband, was more like a prison than a castle.

Mme de Stael's mind was so full of newness that it was threatening to others, especially the little mind of Napoleon Bonaparte. It was said that "Napoleon has four enemies; Russia, Prussia, England, and Madame de Stael," and the truth can be seen when looking at the history of her house. This was not a place of comfort and refuge, but of exile and abandonment. Mme de Stael was forbidden to enter Paris, the heart of Western Europe, and therefore had to be enough of a mind to draw others to her home on the lake.

Even thought it was not the life she wanted, Mme de Stael made due with what she had and established herself as a sight to see in Switzerland. Her salons brought together the minds that shaped Europe and shook the foundations of imperialism. She knew who she was and what the human mind was capable of, and with that power helped shape the thought of Liberalism in Europe.

Weekend In Venice

On our free weekend, in true Romantic style, four of us traveled to Venice. We had a wonderful time and got to see the beauty of the medieval city. We were able to go to the Swiss/Italian boarder with our travel pass and then only pay to get to Venice. It was a great city and a great weekend.

Ancient Ice

Today we traveled to the Chamonix Pass in France and went up to Mere de Glace. This is a very famous place because of a passage from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and also because of Coleridge's poem, "Hymn Before Sunrise in the Vale of Chamonix." As we read this poem in the streets of Chamonix we discussed Coleridge's insistence that this sight intensified his belief in God. While Percy Shelley would later disagree, I believe Coleridge had it right. As we studied in Kant, the mountain truly shows us nothing, it is just a mountain. The meaning comes with our interpretation of the mountain.
In seeing the mountain we see the grandeur that God has created. While man is God's creation, how does he stand beside a mountain? The shadow the mountain casts over humanity is so deep that he/she can become aware of his/her insignificance. Man becomes only another voice praising God along with the mountain.
Similarly, the glacier creates the same awareness. The time that the glacier has existed and the power behind its creative force in moving down the mountain is humbling. A human life looks both grand and small next to this amazing force. Humanity is capable of imagination and creation and is therefore grand, but a human's life is fleeting and pass much more quickly and quietly than the glacier.

William Wordsworth's Themes of Travel

William Wordsworth did not end up writing about his experiences traveling through the Simplon Pass until about 15 years after his journey. Like many writers, the time between occurrence and unbias perspective is crucial to the creative process. His perspective added for crucial themes throughout The Prelude. Conversations of old and young, school and travel, and the growth of the poetic mind dominate Wordsworth observation and descriptions.
Wordsworth plays on the ideas of young verse old and naive verse wisdom. The whole idea of thinking about the young and the old is interesting because throughout The Prelude Wordsworth seems to be arguing against a traditional schooling with books and lecture and finds he can learn more from traveling. While it may seem like it is immature to go away from books Wordsworth seems to think the opposite. “Twould be a waste of labour to detail the rambling studies of a truant youth” (line 110). In other literature wisdom and maturing seems to be associated with a traditional way of studying. However, Wordsworth seems to defend the spirit of a youthful student yet the perspective of the older man he is writing from. Either way he found that, “In living nature, (he) had there a guide” (line 119).
Throughout The Prelude, Wordsworth seems to defend the benefits of breaking away from books and going off on your own. The passion of the poet comes partly from this solitary relationship with oneself and one’s setting. Wordsworth wrote, “On wandering of my own, and now to these/ my poem leads me with an easier mind” (line 333-334). Wordsworth obviously found a healing power and teacher within nature. He seems to be describing a spiritual and poetic freedom that can be compared to Clara’s physical rebirth in Heidi. The mountains are interesting because of the vast impressions they have made on different writers. Some view them as an evil and natural force, and others seem them as teachers.

Yesterday, the group went on an alpine hike from Solalex (1,460 meters, 4,791 feet) up to the Pas de Cheville (2,038 meters, 6,686 ft), a high mountain pass which marks the border between the canton of Vaud (in which this study abroad program takes place) and the canton of Valais.
While walking up through these Swiss Alps, the group encountered a solitary marmot jumping about by a river, and cows in the high pastures munching on the bright yellow buttercups as their bells jingled, creating an alpine symphony.

Above the treeline, there is not much besides the huge rock of the mountains and fields of wildflowers. However, a small reminder of human civilization exists at Anzeindaz, the tiny village of five buildings that served as the halfway point of our hike. Amidst the emptiness of high alpine nature, one can still have coffee and something tasty to eat, thanks to the fortitude of the Swiss. After a brief rest in Anzeindaz, we continued along the stream, coming across patches of snow in late June. As we walked higher and higher we could see a correlation between the increased altitude and vegetation, as new species of fascinating and brightly colored wildflowers appeared out of the rock.

At the top of the Pas de Cheville, we stopped to eat a lunch that we had lugged up a vertical clumb of 1,891 feet, more than a third of a mile. We ate on the hills created in 1714 when the side of the mountain collapsed, utterly destroying the small village of Derborence. Somewhere far beneath the tranquil, flower covered hills on which we lunched lie the bones of cows and people and the chalets where they once dwelt.

Adventure Part Two

Traveling through the Simplon Pass on Monday, it was easy to see how this would inspire William Wordsworth to write. I also can somewhat relate to him seeking education and knowledge through his travels and life rather than at the university. (Though, if you're reading this, Mom and Dad, I'm not dropping out of college.) Even though our group took a bus up the mountains to get to the pass, it was overwhelming. Seeing something so much bigger than yourself, bigger than yourself in every way was one of the most moving feelings I've ever had. Something about seeing something so huge, both physically and ideally, brought me to every big feeling I've had... every huge moment I've experienced. Perhaps I subconsciously wanted to know I had something that great. Simultaneously to my thoughts on inadequacy towards these overpowering mountains, I was taken back to thoughts of our groups discussion last week about nature. As I tried to get every bit of this experience on film, ever click of the shutter of the camera brought me back to that discussion. While I sat there pining over these large mounds of rock, tree, snow, and ice, giving them credit for something which they had no control over, which is of course just existing, I realized that nature did not care about me. I could climb all of the mountains, hike every beautiful valley and all it has to offer me is a breathtaking view and the humble realization of my utter smallness. They didn't think anything of me, in fact they don't think at all. They simply are. There is something beautiful and sad about that. It is beautiful that without any thought, they are stunning and create emotion as big as they; but it is sad that all of these people are giving them praise and worship for their mere existence. It is overpowering for a person to realize a lack of control, but this is humbling to realize God's power. And though this poem was not assigned to this trip, Gerard Manley Hopkins' God's Grandeur comes to mind. The very first line I think summarizes all that I have tried to explain in this piece, "The world is charged with the grandeur of God."

The Path Less Traveled

I meant to post yesterday about the Simplion Pass. I wish I could put into words the beauty and splendor that I witnessed as we rode the bus up to the Pass. It was incredible seeing the snow capped mountains that stood thousands of feet up in the clouds. I can't imagine how someone could not be inspired by gazing upon the beauty of these sights. My eyes were wide and glued to the window the whole way up. I have never in my life experienced something so breath taking.

Once we got off the bus, it just kept getting better. The air was so crisp, fresh and cold. I wanted to spend all day just starring at the mountains. Everytime I looked out at the lovely landscape I saw something I had missed before. It was so humbling to be that close to such gigantic, magnificient nature. I am still in awe of what my eyes saw. No wonder so many artist, writers, etc. are inspired when they come here! The mountains make you want to be all that you can be and truely live life to the fullest.

The most liberating thing was the climb to the top of an Alp. Bobbie, Will, Chad and I climbed to the top of one of the mountains. Just when I thought the views couldn't get any better... nature suprised me. I tried to take it all in with each step further up the mountain. We actually made great time and got to the top by following a goat path. It was a hard climb, but yet again, inspiring. The fact that I can say I climbed an Alp is awesome! If I can do that... I can do anything I set my mind to. And, it go better.

Once we arrived on top, I could't believe my eyes. It felt so liberating. I felt like I was on top of the world. Truely inspiring. I wish I could put into words the feeling that swept over my body as I stood on top of the mountain. I wish I could put into words the splendor and magnificience of these mountains, but no words would do it justice. It's once of those things that you have to experience first hand to fully grasp.

The artist who wrote poems, stories, songs, painted pictures and so on of this lovely country are incredible. Although these things can help people imagine this place and the feelings one would feel... nothing is like the real thing. I understand why these sceneries were so influential to them because they were to me too! The Simplion Pass is a place that could renew any heart, body, mind and soul. It's so hard to believe that mountains can be that powerful, but they truely are.

Hello everyone! I am trying to upload specific photos, but not all my photos are revealing themselves on this computer! What I will most likely do is post more pictures or video when I get back ;)

This mountain site is the Simplon Pass. We took a bus up to this place yesterday, so we were right beside the mountains! The stone monument you see in the background is a giant Eagle (we also took pictures standing right beside it). It was quite a site standing above the tree line and looking out at the mountains with the fresh-laden snow caressing their tops...

One thing I have desired to do while I am here is to better understand the perplexing dichotomy between the "horrific mountain" and the "beautiful" mountain. Surprisingly, the Alps were not always perceived as enchanting and beautiful. In the Renaissance and medieval mindset and up until the Victorian Age/Romantic period, mountains were perceived as dangerous, cold, and as a barren place dwelled by carnivorous wolves and mischievous sprite-like spirits. As Andrew Beattie remarks, the mountains were "agriculturally barren and aesthetically repellent [. . .]" (116). He even goes so far as to say they were seen as "an unfortunate blemish on the face of the earth (!)" (Beattie 116). The mountains were, certainly, not willingly climbed like today (with the exception of chamois hunters, smugglers, etc. traveling up there at that time). A new perception in the view of the Alps began with Conrad Gesner in 1492. He went searching for a dragon that supposedly dwelled on the mountain. On his return home, consequently, he wrote in quite a different tone about them. He wrote about the clear mountain water, beautiful mountain pastures, and the lovely fragrance of the wild flowers. This was very new. Other writers did follow his lead, but it was, truly, a very gradual change. It was not until the The Victorian Age (19th century) that the mountains were no longer perceived with "unmitigated horror" as Leslie Stephen, a biographer of the Victorian period expressed (Beattie 118). Perceptions of the Alps, then, have irreversibly changed. There is still an interesting duplicit reality surrounding the mountains, however!.

Regarding my own perceptions of the Alps, I have seen only their loveliness, but that's also probably because I am seeing them from below. This remained true for the Romantic poets (18-19th century) who wrote about the mountains as well (William Wordsworth and Lord Byron, for example). Some of the poets captured their sublimity (their being so much larger than man and so beautiful, leaving him with a overwhelming sense of his own smallness coupled with an inutterable feeling of Awe). They wrote about the beauty of the mountains and the "innocence and congeniality" of the Swiss peasants, but they did so without a full understanding of the actuality of things. They neglected the hardship those who lived on the mountains endured, and the prevalent "every man for himself" attitude that permeated the hearts of so many individuals who worked to keep themselves alive and warm on the mountains. This reality was explained best by Mrs. Middleman, a woman who grew up on them.

With these different yet simultaneous truths of the mountains--their beauty yet, perhaps, also their horrific potential intrigues me. I wonder if I will see anything I cold classify as "horrific." We are expected to hike this Thursday. Perhaps I will be able to tell you if I discover anything along these lines. This is not to say that I want to (because I don't!), but it does seem like a really interesting contrast. Let us see. Ciao! :)

Traveling Up

Today we went up, up, and up. We took a bus from Sion and drove around several mountains until we were up at the Simplon Pass. This is the passage that Wordsworth took when he traveled across the Alps and into Italy. In his poem "The Prelude," Wordsworth discussed the idea of awareness of the moment that we are experiencing. As he points out we are rarely aware of the importance of an instant when we are in it. Much like this crossing of the Alps, there are rarely signs to tell us that this is a significant time.
After walking in this pass there seems to be more to this loss of focus than just human inattention. In a place with so much bare stone it would seem that change would be a small part of the landscape, but that is not the case here. The whole landscape seems to change from minute to minute with the movement of the clouds and the changing light. Through the camera lens it felt like a hundred different pictures could be taken of the same mountain side.
This constant change does not excuse the lack of attention for the moment, but the light in the mountains seems to create an alternative world in which to lose one's self.

I Scaled an Alp

Today we went to the Simplon Pass, a historical barrier between Switzerland and Italy. Our reading followed the trails of a young Wordsworth, who came to tour the area in his early 20s. Coming here at such a time engraves the visions of the stone in memory, and Wordsworth was able to call upon his mental pictures to write his Descriptive Sketches, Book Six of which was our main text for the excursion.
Wordsworth came rambling through the Alps after the studies of his truant youth, and while it can be hoped that we in the class take our academics more seriously, there is something that only travel can teach. Getting out into the Great Big World, realizing there is so much planet outside our front doors, is something that both excites and humbles.
Since Wordsworth did not have the luxury of planes to shorten his travels and raise his blood pressure, he had to backpack across Europe to get to Simplon. While his other travels must have been just as fascinating, I can only attest to the power of the pass. Nature sovereign in our hearts, Megan, Chad, Bobbie and I decided to go for a stroll, one that soon became driven by our desire to conquer an (baby) Alp.
No more than a mole hill to his relatives, our mini mountain was more than just a thrust of earth. Above the tree line, through layers of depleting oxygen, past my own point of giving up, our peak was an apex in our minds. Parking lots and monuments and hotels behind, we set off across the fields and bogs, determined to get "there," a mythical place that only shows it's glory when reached.
I fell, twisted my ankle, and had to take 6 puffs of my inhaler. But the biggest obstacle in following the goat paths was my own free will, the one that demands flat ground and low altitudes. Breaking through was frustratingly easier than I have led myself to believe, and once I started putting one soggy sock in front of the other, the peak was only half a panic attack away.
The climb was so much of the journey, the first step in a million, but I forgot all prior time when I sat, finally, at the top of our Alp. I fully realized in our moment of meditation how we, according to Wordsworth, could hardly look back on the pleasure none the less sweet from a shade of melancholy.
I conquered more than an Alp. I went many of the paths less travelled to reach a spot where man was the size of ant, habitation could not be seen for an entire line of sight. I could hear the wind in the pines, and nothing else. The shame of the journey is that it was all to brief, but like Wordsworth, I will be able to mine this experience my entire life.

Poem in response to When the Mountain Fell

This is a poem in response to C.F. Ramuz's When the Mountain Fell.


A man could not
make his hands paint
so he colored in words--
a darker shade of gray and white fingers
and told about when the mountain fell.

Nature is a cruel mouth
on the mountain
he wrote.
Some say a healing power exists
between bent fingers carefully speaking
and that a high breeze could cure an ill face.
Then why do we still feel like prisoners on the mountain?
Is it because it could easily kill us
and death is unsettling.
Up there, down there.
The mountains have their own way of making the dead.

Chillon

Yesterday we arrived at Castle de Chillon, seeing the castle is indeed intimidating, a brave fortress protruding from the water demands your respect upon seeing it. Walking across the bridge, I can feel the history soak into my skin, feeling of how many people had been there before me, that were asked to come there, not paid their way in just to see the history. Walking down towards the dungeon, there is a feeling of death that surrounded my mind. Having read, "The Prisoner of Chillon", the feeling of sadness and hopelessness, knocks down my mind like a wave of disparity. 

Sitting down on those rocks in front of the column where Fracois Bolivard was chained to for six years, I could only imagine the feelings that he must have felt: despair, boredom, anger, sadness, morose, suicidal. Byron tried to capture what this man must have felt when his brothers' bodies were laid in front of him--to rot, to decay, as he remembers his memories with them. Or when Bolivard had a chance to see the outside world and he sees the water and the landscape; then he turns around and sees what he has to live with, what he has to go back, he doesn't have a choice. 

I was only in there for twenty minutes maybe and I could feel the death and agony that must have gone on in there. Just being there cannot even give us an inkling to what that place must have really been back in its prime. What it must have been like to be a prisoner, Byron does capture those attitudes of just one prisoner. 

Also, I need to correct a mistake that I have posted on hear. Due to my history of Music and fireworks, I have become partly deaf in an ear and heard Udo Middleman incorrectly. I had posted that the Swiss can reserve a grave in Gryon for 3 years when in fact it is indeed 30 years which is a big difference. Sorry for any inconvenience that I may have caused. 

I'm not a Swiss hillbilly

I've been spending time at a local Internet cafe/bar just about every night since we've been in Gryon. It's a place called L'espace and the bartender/cook is a very gentlemanly fellow named Sergio (sp?). Apparently, L'espace was brought to Gryon with the intention of keeping the younger generation around town in the evenings. So mainly it's a local hang out, but it's not so bad. Chad and I usually hit it up to get some wi-fi action after our daily excursions, and when we leave the locals all yell goodnight. It's a bit smoky, but it's free internet and a place close by to spend hours outside the hostel. Last night we met a lovely woman named Rosie who worked with the Gryon tourist office. Her extreme kindness lightened my heart, and she commended me on my brew selection, which happened to be a Duvel at a time. She asked us to relay a message to someone who works in the hostel, and she had a great sense of humor. I told her we were from the United States and Chad mentioned we were from Kentucky, which is a state in our country. She laughed and slapped the man's back who was sitting next to her and said simply, "Oh, I'm no Swiss hillbilly! I know what states in the U.S. are." She proceeded to tell us about her life and career working and living in Hong Kong, Paris, and even somewhere in Spain, I think.

Gryon night life may be sparse, but turns out the people are friendly. It's not hard to find a warm, bright place to spend evenings, and the American music is another nice touch that makes me a little closer to home when I'm so far away.

And now for some pictures.

(Lake Geneva)

(Castle de Chillon)

(Outside the coop after our first shopping excursion)

(Lord Byron's signature carved into a pillar in the dungeon of Chillon)

Until next time,

Bobbie

Castle Chillon

Today we went to Vevey to tour around the market. There were so many different people and things being sold- it was amazing. I find it hard to communicate and get around without knowing French, but many of the Swiss try and speak English. The food is wonderful and anything you could possibly want is offered. After touring the city we took a boat ride to Chillon. The group went on the top deck at first, but soon got kicked off due to the fact that we weren't first class.
Castle Chillon and read the "Prisoner of Chillon" in the dungeon of the castle. It was very chilling to be in the same place as the prisoners. There was true understanding of the sadness that Byron was expressing in his poem. After reading the poem we were set free to roam as we pleased. Bobbie and I toured the castle together. Sadly, both of our cameras died, but the magnificence of the castle was breathtaking.
Finally we stopped at Montrauex which was a nice, seemingly luxurious town. We took the train back to Barbelouse to eat at a pizza place. It was really good, but the cold, wet weather along with full bellies made us all tired. The castle was definitely the best part about the day to me, but I also love just walking around the towns and experiencing the culture.

Vevey and Chillon

Today we traveled to Vevey to the Saturday market. It was incredible to see the mingling of so many people and cultures in one place. I loved the variety of things they had and the dedication to buying fresh, homegrown products, so different from the American supermarkets.
We then traveled on the lake boat Vevey to Castle Chillon on Lac Leman. We gathered in the dungeon and read Byron's "The Prison of Chillon." We could hear the breaking of waves on the lake as we read. Sitting on the cold stone floor as we read brought a new experience to the reading.
Exploring the castle was beautiful and interesting because of the ancient furnisher. There was intricately carved trunks and tables and beds on display. The Swiss attention to detail is astounding and incredibly evident in everything they create.
The history of the castle and its occupants made Switzerland's dedication to neutrality clearer.

Adventure Part One

Thursday we spent the day on a tour of Gryon. The tour was wonderful and I now know something of the history of the village of Gryon and its people. The amazing part of the tour in my opinion was the guide. Mr. Middleman was our guide, and quite possibly one of the most brilliant people I've met. He teaches Philosophy at Kings College in New York City, but lives in and knows a great deal of Gryon. Mr. Middleman is also a preacher. I was privileged enough to speak with him about a couple things on the tour. I found the Church that he showed us, very interesting. It's tragic that such a beautiful place is actually only used a couple of times a month. There was actually scripture carved into the ceiling of the Church. Interestingly, because Gryon is in the Protestant part of Switzerland, the Protestant Church can ring its bells on the hour but the Catholic gets one little bell and is not given the ringing privilege. I hope to get to speak with Mr. Middleman again, hopefully for a longer period of time.
This morning, (Friday) we were honored to have a lesson from Mrs. Middleman, who was no disappointment with her knowledge. We discussed primarily a local author: C.F. Ramuz. She explained his very different view of life, death, and the Alps. It was a very interesting conversation with many different thoughts and opinions from the group. I would certainly love to meet with both Mr. and Mrs. Middleman again and have a discussion. I am so impressed with their intelligence and knowledge! Also, one of Mr. Middleman's students was named ADRIANNA! Can you believe that? It is spelled and pronounced the same as mine! Also, she just graduated with a degree in Philosophy! The irony!
Today we went to the city of Vevey, which was a nice change of pace from the quieter small towns on the mountain. It was fun adventuring through the city and figuring out the train schedule. I have also enjoyed attempting to pick up on the French language. Most people are very forgiving of my many failed attempts at their native tongue, but I am learning and find it rewarding when I "get it right". We walked along the lake this evening, and though it was rainy, it was beautiful and exciting all the same.
I hope to soon go rock climbing and paragliding, which I think will be great fun! I am so excited! Everything is an adventure here... and I can't stop taking pictures. My poor little Kodak is a trooper through it all (but it's only week one, cross your fingers for it)!
This concludes my first Swiss post, I'll write again soon. God Bless!

Switzerland and Freedom

We have finally made it to Switzerland, and we are finally getting past our jetlag to enjoy it fully. The mountains here are beyond words and simple emotions. They are just like a picture from a book, a line from a really good poem, or something you haven't even been able to create in your mind yet. I already feel a poem coming from deep inside the mountains.

Today we had a wonderful tour around Gryon. I found most interesting was the long tradition Switzerland has with providing an escape from society and place for freedom. It was interesting hearing about the use that travelers and traders made of the high mountain trails to avoid paying the taxes of the main road. It is because of this and the location of Switerland that I think has made it able to use tourism as its major income. Since there are no natural resources in Switzerland besides snow and water( and chocolate) visitors have become an important part of what Switerland is.

Yesterday, we arrived here in Gryon, of course everyone is exhausted, but happy to be here none the less. I dont think that I have ever been in a beautiful place in my life. I've seen mountains before but this place definitely wins. We had traveled to Villars which is just up the road from Gryon, that is more a touristy place. Where you can change money, get what you need essentially. Then we came back and had a wonderful dinner and then we went to bed.
Today, apparently I was the last to wake. But we went on a tour through Gryon, Bobbie, Will, and I had went through it last night and found that our walk was short. Apparently we had not gone throught the whole village. Our tour was done by Udo Middleman, who was a very interesting man who is also a professor at Kings college in New York City. But we did learn a lot about Gryon. What I found most interesting was the grave yard, there you can reserve a plot for 3 years while you're in it. But once that time is up, you're digged up, then your bones are placed into a into a cylindrical object where everyone elses remains are placed. But, looking at their graves makes me wonder, what kind of life these people led, what their child hood was like, and who still comes to visit them. Seems like an idea for a poem.

Our Swiss Neighobors

Today we walked around with enlightening history lessens about our host town. Gryon comes from a long line of independent Alpine people, but one of the endearing aspects we have witnessed even in our short time here has been the closeness felt with our neighbors. Udo Middleman had many wonderful pearls of knowledge to give to us, one of which being the sense of community the town has. The closeness forced upon man by the Alps has caused the inhabitants of Gryon, and Switzerland beyond our valley, to recognize the geographic and social closeness each has for the other.
The air in the mountains is clear from the polution of individualistic greed, neither does it have the acrid staleness of communism's idea that each man is just a cog in the machinery of the state. These people must be independent enough to stand on their own hard working feet, but must live with enough of the community in mind to sustain the power of "neighbor" that surrounds the villages.
This is just one of the differences that stands out between America and Switzerland. We have the smog of expansionism to stand between each other, while the pure mountain air allows the Swiss to breathe free among fellow men.

Michelle and Bobbie

Will, Morgan, and Adrianna waiting in the Newark airport for the flight to Switzerland.

Greetings from Switzerland! We have now been here for over twenty-four hours, had a good night's sleep, and are ready to get organized. We're going to be using this blog for students to make comments on our readings and excursions, write their impressions, and post their photos. This will be a mixture of personal postings for family and friends and more academic postings for the course: short essays on Wordsworth and Byron, the sublime, the idea of Freedom in the Alps, etc. Together we will create a documentary of our three weeks in the Alps.

Our journey began yesterday with an early morning drive from Bowling Green to Nashville, a flight to Newark, and then the overnight flight to Geneva. With our Swiss rail passes we boarded the train in Geneva, which departs from under the airport, and traveled directly to Bex. From there we took a smaller train up the mountain to Gryon, and then walked to Chalet Martin, the hostel that will be our home for the next three weeks.

This picture shows me and my wife Libby at the Continental counter in Newark, waiting to board the flight to Geneva.

I slept through breakfast...

...but I don't feel bad about the extra sleep at all. After a not-so-arduous journey, a day of jet-lagged exhaustion, and walking around the towns surrounding our hostel, sleep was the easiest thing to come by. However, I originally awoke this morning around 5 a.m. and cursed Dr. Davies for his jinx (after dinner last night he off-handedly joked we would probably be wide awake before the sunrise...he was right :-) )


My first early morning here was spent writing and meditating on the back porch of Chalet Martin while the sun slowly crept up over the mountains before me. After about an hour the sheep began to wake, and when I finally crawled back into bed I could still here the jingle-jangle of their little bells as they traipsed the hillside for their morning meal of sweet, Alpine grass.




(The sheep grazing on the hillside behind Chalet Martin)


(The view from one of our bedroom windows)


(The view from the back porch of Chalet Martin)

--Bobbie

Getting To Switzerland

Our trip felt very long and we were all so tired when we first arrived. But we stayed up to get changed over to the Swiss time. Today I woke feeling much better and after a nice long shower I feel human.
Today is beautiful and clear again. Much warmer than I thought it would be. The mountains are so wonderful and impressive. Every time I look up I kind of stop for a minute to stare.
We are going for a walking tour of the town of Gryon today. We are taking it kind of light until we all adjust.

Hello Everyone!
I just wanted to try making a post.
Only 12 more days! See you soon.