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.