Destination München

Wednesday, 26 December 2007

Today would be a long travel day as we made our way from Interlaken to Munich, with layovers in Lucerne and Zurich. Though most of the day would be largely spent on the train, it was hardly an unsatisfactory experience, especially thanks to the train ride from Interlaken to Lucerne which provided us with some of the most breathtaking scenery we would see during our 2 weeks in Europe.

As usual, there was no rest for the weary and we began the day quite early with our train for Lucerne leaving from Interlaken Ost some time between 8:00 and 8:30. The fact that we first had to catch the train from Interlaken West to Interlaken Ost meant the more punctual the better. So we all bid a fond farewell to the Hotel Rugenpark and trudged along the Rugenparkstrasse towards Interlaken West to begin the long journey to Munich. With the Robertson's having caught back up with us two days ago, our traveling group was one again, and it showed as we walked and rattled our way down the street towards the station with luggage in tow. As we walked along, we soon began to realize that we had lucked out with the weather yesterday because now the sky was gray and the fog and clouds thick.

We soon arrived at Interlaken West, where a short wait was followed by a short ride to Interlaken Ost, where we ended up waiting around for a good 20 or 30 minutes at least because we had erred on the side of caution and did not want to miss our train to Lucerne. It soon became clear from the gathering crowd that we also wanted be able to have a seat on the train as well. As our train arrived it seemed as though everything was going off without a hitch. We found first and second class cars right next to one another to board. Alex and I boarded the second class car while Will would eventually come back to join us after helping his family on along with everyone else in first class. Except that never happended; apparently some Brits had reserved the cars towards the back of the train that we were on, and unbeknownst to me and Alex, the rest of the group had already begun relocating towards the other end of the train. Eventually we got kicked out by these smarmy Brits who insisted we leave their car, yet refused to make way for us and our luggage as we tried to make our way out. Shades of the Gare de Lyon in Paris were evoked when I got on the phone to the rest of the group as me and Alex hauled our luggage and ourselves towards the rest of the group. Thankfully, we did make it without having to frantically dash and were soon reunited with the rest of the group who had relocated to a sparsely filled second class car that allowed for the whole group to enjoy the train ride together, a rarity for our 2 weeks in Europe. Soon thereafter, the train left the station and we were on our way towards Lucerne.

As I have pointed out in earlier posts, Interlaken roughly translates into 'land between lakes' and we had seen Lake Thun which lies just west of Interlaken. Now, as we headed east from Interlaken, we would spend the first part of our trip to Lucerne traveling along Lake Brienz. As the train made its way around the lake, it became clear that, despite the gray skies, this long travel day was going to be anything but dull. Despite the gray weather, the mountains still loomed large over the proceedings as we made our way towards Lucerne, not least as we traveled along Lake Brienz.

Soon we passed through the town of Brienz itself at the eastern point of the lake and moved further inland from there, coming along a more plush, thickly packed winter wonderland as we went. It became clear as we traveled along that in a way, the weather sort of added to the ambiance of our journey through this part of the Swiss Alps during wintertime. At the risk of sounding trite, our trip from Interlaken to Lucerne was proving to be such a typically Swiss journey as we made our way through various snow-covered valleys with mountains soaring on either side and pristine lakes carved out here and there amongst the rugged landscape.

It was postcard setting after postcard setting. No sooner would we snap some photos and put our cameras away before we would pull them right back out to document a majestic setting that we did not believe could be topped, only for the next turn around the bend to reveal something even more romantically varied. Our railcar was now largely empty, allowing us to freely shift from side to side whenever the scenery demanded we do so, which was often. My Mom commented that this was, so far and by far, the most amazing scenery we had seen in Europe. For some perspective, it is worth remembering that only the day before we had climbed over 11,000 feet through the Swiss Alps to the Jungfraujoch and the Top of Europe. It was a comment that my Mom would still stand by at the end of the trip, which is not a slight on the rest of our time in Europe, but merely a glowing superlative bestowed upon that train ride from Interlaken to Lucerne. All things must pass, however, and glowing superlatives or not, the train ride itself was not terribly long and after 2 unforgettable hours, we pulled into the station at Lucerne and disembarked for our half hour layover before making an even shorter train ride to Zurich. By all accounts, both literary and photographically, Lucerne is a city that probably demands greater attention than a brief layover en route to Zurich, but such are the drawbacks of a whirlwind tour of Europe. In the end, however, the weather would not have really allowed for us to fully enjoy Lucerne and its environs anyway. I took a brief moment to wander just outside of the train station and walk down around the nearby Lake Lucerne. My brief observation was that Lucerne has much to offer on a beautiful, clear day and perhaps one day I can return to do this popular tourist destination justice. There was not much time to linger, however, and I headed back to the station to grab a snack for the trip to Zurich. We were moving ever deeper into Germanic cultural territory, so I of course helped myself to a tasty pretzel just in time to board the train with.

As train rides go, the short trek from Lucerne to Zurich was pretty uneventful, certainly compared to our previous one. It was still quite foggy outside and aside from some rolling hills here and there, most of what was witnessed on this ride were the burbs of Lucerne and Zurich. The double decker train was nice, though, with me, Will, and Alex roughing it back in second class and the others living the high life as they do. But this journey was quite short and less than an hour after we departed we were in Zurich, the leading financial center of Switzerland, and indeed, the world. It is also consistently high ranked, often at the very top, as the city with the best quality of life in the world, though it is worth mentioning that Geneva and other Swiss cities such as Berne and Basel never rank far behind.

Originally, our intention had been to spend a few hours in Zurich, eating some lunch and walking around the city a bit, which would have been well worth it. Given our already whirlwind schedule, however, and not wanting to die of exhaustion before reaching Italy, we only had a layover of about an hour before catching our train to Munich. Since we did have an hour, though, we assembled all of our luggage around a bench area which we effectively claimed for America such was the space it occupied, and me, Danny, and my Dad stayed behind to keep guard while the rest explored the enormous Zürich Hauptbahnhof.

Many times, Ryan, Will, and I had told our families about the large Christmas market that stood inside this particular train station and while, alas, it was no longer running on this day after Christmas, the facade of it was left over to at least show the enormity of it. Christmas market or no Christmas market, however, there was still much to do in this train station. It houses a vast underground shopping center with over 200 hundred shops, and apparently, it is the only part of Zurich where shops are open on Sundays (though this was a Wednesday), meaning that on that day, the streets of Zurich are rather lifeless while the underground 'Rail City' is booming. So there was much to do for everyone in this train station.

After a short while of patrolling our luggage area, I insisted to Danny and my Dad that they walk around a bit and venture outside the train station a little so that they could at least say they had seen the city of Zurich, if only in bits and pieces, as I had the luxury of spending a couple of hours here 2 years before, so I had seen much more than they would get a chance to anyway. So they dispersed and I remained the lone solider at Camp America, waving at various members of my party as they walked below and above me in this labyrinth of boutiques and chocolate filled shops.

A short while later, the elder statesmen returned and relieved me of duty, leaving me just enough time to wonder in to one of the chocolate ladened palaces and right a perceieved wrong from 2 years ago when Ryan and Will conspired against me to buy some Swiss Chocolates together, splitting the cost without informing me. Devious was the look on their faces that day when I asked how much my share of the bountiful goodness would cost, with the answer coming back in the affirmative that this chocolate was to be shared between only them. So finally, after two years of anguish and with my time in Switzerland dwindling steadily away, I walked into a shop lined with chocolate bars and, picking out 4 of the best, I firmly laid them upon the check-out counter along with my few remaining Swiss Francs and made the delicious purchase.

Shortly thereafter, it was time to head to the platform and catch our train to Munich. Part of the reason for not spending long in Europe was to catch a train directly to Munich whereas our original schedule had us taking a few layovers to get there. But this 13:00 train would take us directly to Munich with plenty of time to spend the evening acquainting ourselves with the German metropolis. Again, first class and second class status would apply with me, Will, and Alex in one car and the rest in another, though in this case we were at least able to be in cars that were right next to one another. I'm not sure how it went for the rest of the party, but for the second class kids, a number of the seats were reserved, so we had to scurry about to secure our seats, but we did so comfortably enough at the end of the car with me and Will sitting opposite a couple of sweet old ladies with their lapdog stowed between them while Alex had a lone seat to herself, though if memory serves me correct, some standing passengers found it convenient to pervade her space and stand right in front of her which was kind of awkward, but she hung in there like a champ.

This train ride was quite long, about 5 hours in fact, and while it was hardly the most engrossing, it did have its moments. Alex slept a good portion of the ride while me and Will did some reading and listened to our iPods, though Will soon found out that his iPod battery left much to be desired, leaving him searching for others way to pass the time. The scenery was hardly dull, but the foggy conditions meant justice was not done to the Swiss, Austrian, and German countryside that we traversed. But there were a couple of noteworthy sights.

Somewhere around the border of Austria, Germany, and Switzerland, we passed through a town with a couple of frozen lakes on either side of the tracks. However, it was not the frozen lake that caught our attention, but the large number of people who were using this gift from mother nature to play a natural game of ice hockey. In fact, for us local Chattanoogans, it looked the equivalent of an early autumn Saturday at the Redoubt soccer field complex. There were multiple games going on and it seemed a local youth league had taken over the area, but I suppose it was just a good way to spend the day after Christmas with kids breaking in their new skates, pucks, and hockey sticks. It was surreal to see and neat to sort of have this small town offer us a peak into its daily life without even acknowleding our presence, as though we were in the Magic Kingdom with 'It's a Small World' to show us that we all share more in common than we think.

Another memorable moment from this train ride occurred shortly after crossing into Germany. We were not quite in the Black Forest region of Germany, but we were not too far either, and soon it became clear where the Black Forest got its name. We came upon a forest so thickly packed with tall pines that we could not see more than a few feet beyond the trees before everything turned dark. It conjured up thoughts of a fairy tale setting and it did not escape me that many of the tales of the Brothers Grimm were set not far from here. No wonder Hansel and Gretel lost their way so easily. Coupled with the fog and gray skies and you begin to wonder if Tim Burton's 'Sleepy Hollow' was inspired by such a setting.

The journey through this setting lasted a while longer before darkness set upon us and the growing number of pedestrian lights made it clear that we were approaching the burbs of Munich, and finally Munich itself. We arrived at the München Hauptbahnhof some time around 18:00 and made haste to our hotel, which was a relatively short distance from the station, just close enough to walk to in fact. We were staying at the Hotel Tryp München and by all accounts, I think it was probably the nicest hotel we stayed at while in Europe. It certainly seemed tailored to Americans with the abundance of ammenities provided that not all European hotels provide. It would prove to be a comfy and cozy residence for our time in Germany.

We spent a little time situating ourselves before heading out into the cool Munich night to see some of the sights and eat some hearty German food to round off the long day of travel. We headed back to the station to catch the S-bahn to the Marienplatz and the city center. Like Zurich, 2 years before when me, Ryan, and Will were in Munich, there was an enormous Christmas market right here in the Marienplatz, which itself is basically a large town square with several shops surrounding it. Like Zurich earlier, the rapidly diminishing facade was all that was left of the market, but no one would wont for good shopping in this area.

We hung around the Marienplatz for a little while, taking in the New City Hall that dominated the platz, though the New City Hall actually had a neo-gothic appearance while the Old City Hall actually has a much more contemporary look. New City Hall is still quite impressive, though I can never really look at it without thinking about Nazi flags that hung from the top after their rise to power. We did not linger for long as we would come back in the morning to witness the famous Rathaus-Glockenspiel of New City Hall. For now, it was time to eat, and since we did not have any reservations, we all split up.

We all walked around for a little while as we searched for somewhere to eat, but eventually a large group of Ryan, his parents, Susan, Alex, and Beth peeled off as the window menu at an establishment called Haxnbaur caught their fancy and they walked inside. The rest of the group walked around a little while longer before my parents, along with Christine and Kevin, decided to eat at a Hard Rock Cafe to reacquaint themselves with some good American food. Meanwhile, Will and I pressed on in search of a quaint little Bavarian specialty eatery because we were jonesing for a fine Bavarian meal in a fine Bavarian setting.

We eventually found such a place, called Zum Duernbraeu, and walked through what seemed like a backdoor and stood at the entrance, taking in the ambiance of the place as women in traditional Bavarian dress waited on the patrons of the tavern that were mainly seated at long beer hall style tables. We instantly agreed this would be the place to dine and a woman eventually came to seat us at one of the spots at the long, regal looking table. Once sat down, we looked over the menu and we both soon opted for a fine wheat beer to drink before our meal came out. This was Munich after all and we would be remiss if we did not sample the local brew, and we were rewarded handsomely for doing so. Wheat beer and German pretzels do make for a fine appetizer.

The time to order did eventually come and Will went with Wiener Schnitzel, potatoes, and salad, a traditional German meal. I myself opted for an assortment of different Bavarian-style sausages along with some sauerkraut. Needless to say, we were both well fed by our time of departure. People in Germany eat more heartily than any other country I have visited in that the food they eat is quite filling. Sauerkraut, German sausages, and schnitzel do make for an amazing meal, but a few days in a row of such meals would no doubt leave one possibly needing a stomach transplant afterwards. Will, to his detriment, found out the hard way as his stomach was not as accepting of his delicious meal as he would have liked and this meal, good though it was, would come back to haunt him throughout the rest of the trip, and perhaps until his eventual surgery half a year later. But at this moment, we were both quite content. The meal had been amazing as had been the setting and we had no complaints. We took our time to just soak in the atmosphere and get all retrospective about the trip up to this point as well as our previous experience in Munich. After a while, the time to depart did come and we walked out into the cold, but comfortable night air and walked around for a little bit before eventually meeting back up with everybody back at the Marienplatz. Both of our respective families had enjoyed their American food experience at Hard Rock and Ryan's crew had a funny story to tell about their encounter with a waiter, but you would have to ask them more about it.

I do know that everyone in our group ate quite well at the different locales, and after a long day of travel, we were all about ready to call it a night. We caught the S-bahn back to the main train station and walked back to the hotel from there. Without much fanfare, we retired to our rooms and looked forward to our time in Munich tomorrow. There was no set schedule for the day, so we were allowed a bit of time to sleep in which was most welcome after a couple of early wake-up calls in a row.

Movin' on Up

Tuesday, 25 December 2007

Christmas morning found us waking up early enough to partake in the continental breakfast before beginning our journey to the Jungfraujoch and the Top of Europe around 8:00 or so. We had originally intended to leave from the Interlaken West train station around 7:30, but Ursula and Chris assured us that the sun would really be up for a good bulk of the journey, so we were better off waiting and catching a later train so as to better enjoy the trip to the Top of Europe. After eating breakfast our walk to the Interlaken West train station confirmed the wisdom of this decision since day was still breaking over the Bernese Oberland. Before I go any further, however, it is worth mentioning that my Mom (in a classic my Mom moment) had given the younger generation (i.e., Alex, Beth, Kevin, me, Ryan, and Will) Christmas gifts to enjoy. She had of course carried them all the way from Chattanooga as she could not bear the thought of Christmas morning coming and her kids not having any gifts to open, but she wanted the other children to have gifts as well, so hopefully the others were pleased with their key chain flashlights. I know Ryan and Will were as they had often looked on with envy at the blinding ability of my key chain flashlight, which comes in handy in dark binds.

From Interlaken West we would take a 4 minute train ride to Interlaken Ost (East) from where we would really begin our trip to the Jungfraujoch in earnest. From Interlaken Ost, it would take about 2 and a half hours to get to the Top of Europe, with changeovers at Grindelwald and Kleine Scheidegg before finally reaching the Jungfraujoch and the highest rail station in Europe. It is for this reason that the Jungfraujoch is called the Top of Europe. The Jungfrau is not actually the highest mountain in Europe, though it rises to an impressive 13,642 feet. That distinction belongs to Mount Albrus in the Caucasus mountains of Russia, standing at 18,442 feet. For good measure, the distinction of highest mountain in Western Europe belongs to Mont Blanc along the French-Italian border, rising 15, 404 feet high.

With this is mind, we boarded the train at Interlaken West for the short ride to Interlaken Ost, where we had a brief layover before boarding a train headed towards Grindelwald, giving us our first chance on this Christmas morning to catch our breath and enjoy the first leg of our journey through the Bernese Oberland and its wondrous paradise for outdoors enthusiasts. The look on many of our faces made it clear that while we were enjoying the journey through the serene Swiss countryside, we were also coming to grips with our early wake-up call for Christmas morning.

We began to perk up a little when not too long after leaving Interlaken we began to travel through areas that had a light dusting of snow. By no means was it the most impressive blanket of snow, but it served as a harbinger of things to come as we rose higher and higher into the Swiss Alps, and for once in our lives, the dream of a White Christmas would be realized. By the time we reached our first changeover of the trip at the Alpine town of Grindelwald, the snow became ever more ubiquitous as Crosby's lyrics filled our heads. As we stepped off the train, we immediately marveled at either the Wetterhorn or Eiger peak (I'm not sure which) that dominated the small town. Cameras were soon swinging from our hip pockets as we rushed to capture the postcard setting, knowing full well that this setting would in all probability soon be topped, but as of yet unable to imagine so. We shuffled about the rail station at Grindelwald, turning our heads here and there to take in the Wetterhorn/Eiger and the valley that opened up before it. It was with great regret that after our brief layover, we stepped on a train heading for Kleine Scheidegg, our final stop before ascending the Jungfrau. I think we all would have loved to have more time at Grindelwald than our short layover allowed for, but the brevity of our time there probably only adds to the grandeur of our memories of the place. As we would discover before the day ended, the whole of the Bernese Oberland really demands much more than just a few days visit such is its appeal. Despite the pinge of regret we felt to leave behind a place of such spectacular beauty, everyone was feeling exhilarated by the sights, which was a good thing. Our early wake-up call inevitably left many of us in a nocturnal state for the first part of the train ride, but after the layover at Grindelwald, everyone was feeling wide awake now and ready to climb the great high mountain. In the meantime, we marveled at the winter wonderland that began to fully reveal itself with each passing moment as we climbed towards Kleine Scheidegg with radiant sunlight bearing down on the snow. Approaching Kleine Scheidegg, it became clear that we were approaching a major hub of skiing in the Bernese Oberland. The vistas really open up at Kleine Scheidegg and let you see for miles into the surrounding mountainous landscape. From its precipice, you can see various mountain peaks of the Bernese Alps, including the Wetterhorn, Eiger, Mönch, Jungfrau, and Gspaltenhorn. All through the valley, from Kleine Scheidegg to the surrounding mountainsides, one can easily see that there is skiing in great abundance here. As we approached Kleine Scheidegg and stepped of the train, we spotted off in the distance, as well as nearby, many skiiers traversing slopes of varying levels of difficulty. Looking out at this sight, Ryan, Will, and I all agreed that nearly ten years since our last skiing adventure, we longed to do so once again, now more than ever.

Another time perhaps, because now we were preparing for the final leg of our journey to the Jungfraujoch: the Jungfraubahn which consisted of a ride up the mountain in a cogwheel railway that seemingly dated from the nineteenth century. This fact only adds to the romanticism of the journey, though it is also an effective way of traversing the steep ride up the mountain that climbs from 6,700 feet in Kleine Scheidegg to 11,400 feet at the Jungfraujoch, in a distance of about 5.5 miles. The railway runs almost entirely within a tunnel built into the Eiger and Mönch mountains and contains two stations in the middle of the tunnel, where passengers can disembark to observe the neighboring mountains through windows built into the mountainside.

After a while, we crammed into the Jungfraubahn at Kleine Scheidegg to begin the final leg of our journey to the Jungfraujoch. The cars of the train were quite full, but we all managed to squeeze into a seat while others around us had to stand. Riding the cogwheel railway was a treat, and as previously intimated, it felt like taking a trip in time; or to appease the less historically initiated of us, a comparison with Thunder Mountain at Disney World would probably suffice to exhibit what the ride was like.

We enjoyed more mountainous scenery along the way, but before long we were winding our way through a tunnel en route to the Jungfraujoch, and spent a majority of this final leg submerged into the mountainside as we traveled through the rock of the Eiger and Mönch. A couple of quick stops at observatories with panoramic views more than made up for the subterranean nature of our journey, however. We first stopped at the Eigerwand Observatory and all of the young folks from our group rushed to the observatory window to look out onto a breathtaking scene laid out before us. We were not yet to the Jungfraujoch, but already it felt as if we were on top of the world. We lingered for only a few minutes before heading back to the train to continue our journey to the Top of Europe, though before long we came to another stop, this one called Eismeer. It was here that we got our first look at the one of the glaciers, and to my knowledge, one of the first that most, if not all of us, had ever seen. Who knows, they might not be there in fifty years, depending on your political preference I suppose, but it was still pretty cool to sort of the see the snow-covered ice sort of swallowing the mountain whole.

Again, after just a few minutes, we were back on the train heading towards the Jungfraujoch, knowing that this had been our last stop and it would not be long before we finally arrived. Indeed, we soon pulled into the station at the Jungfraujoch and shuffled off the train, following a mass of people whom we hoped were all heading towards an elevator, and thus the Top of Europe. We were looking to head towards what is called the Sphinx, which is the top deck of the station and the main observatory platform, offering 360 degree panoramic views of the surrounding mountainous setting. Before going on any further about our time at the Jungfraujoch, it would probably useful to describe exactly what it is in more detail. Quite simply it is a saddle between the Mönch and Jungfrau peaks in these, the Bernese Alps. The complex of the Jungfraujoch itself, however, is not reduced to just the Sphinx observatory area. It is actually quite a bit larger than that. When one first exits the train, there are a number of activities that they can partake in. You can head to the Sphinx viewing area; or you can head to the Ice Palace that takes you underneath the glacier; nearby the Ice Palace you can actually walk out onto the plateau of the glacier for some more panoramic views of the area, not to mention a great opportunity to have your picture taken beside a Swiss flag; this is vintage Switzerland after all. During certain parts of the year, there are other options for outdoor enthusiasts, including skiing down the glacier or even mushing with a husky-drawn sled. At the Jungfraujoch, there are also requisite gift shops as well as various eateries, ranging from a sort of cafeteria to the more upscale "Top of Europe" glacier restaurant.

We arrived at the Jungfraujoch somewhere between 11 and 12 with the idea of spending a few hours at the complex. Immediately we headed towards the Sphinx viewing area to take in the 360 degree view. So we scrambled towards the top and came out around the south side of the Sphinx. We had expected and prepared for it to be quite cold; we were close to 12,000 feet up after all, but with clear skies and bountiful sunshine, it actually did not feel all that bad as we peered southward down the Jungfraujoch's famous Aletsch Glacier that winds around southern Switzerland for about 45 square miles. One of my initial thoughts when looking down this glacier was that it would be fantastic to ski down the glacier and enjoy the scenery while traveling over such a distance at a leisurely pace. Maybe in the future.

When we took our eyes off the glacier, we were able to first look west and the see the peak of the Jungfrau, which rises 13, 642 feet high. Then we looked east towards the peak of the Mönch, which rises 13, 474 feet high. After just a little while, we headed towards the north side of the Sphinx where the weather was a little less forgiving, despite the fact each side of the deck is separated by mere feet. It was probably below freezing on the south side of the deck, but with glorious sunshine and our winter clothing fitting snugly, it really felt rather nice. But as we moved towards the north side of the deck, a biting, chilling wind greeted us, yet we were obliged to brave it on account of the amazing, sweeping view of the Bernese Alps that opened up before us as we looked down towards Interlaken, which was actually visible through a crevice in the mountains below.

It was hard to believe our day had begun there in Interlaken; Interlaken, which lies about 1,900 feet above sea level; and now we stood atop a precipice over 11,000 feet high. The glacier is amazing to look at, but it is the northern view from the Sphinx that really makes one feel as though they are at the top of Europe, indeed the top of the world. It was fantastic to look out at the low-lying clouds in the distance knowing we were well above them. It is reputed that on a clear day (though this was by no means overcast) you can see the Black Forest region of Germany. Looking out in the distance far beyond the numerous snow-capped peaks in the foreground, this was not difficult to imagine as the world just seemed to roll out before us as if we were at its starting point. What must Everest be like?

It was only natural that, given the setting, our time atop the Sphinx became the perfect photo op for everyone. All the respective families took the time to have individual family photos taken of themselves. Naturally, the McCoy family came equipped with Santa hats befitting the festive holiday. I say naturally, because, well, anyone who knows my Mom knows why. She is prepared for every holiday, especially Christmas, and it was no different thousands of miles away from home high in the Swiss Alps. Inevitably, the Santa hats made their way through each family to mark the occasion in their separate photos. Eventually, after we had taken a photo of a British couple, we got them to return the favor and take a photo of the whole group together in that majestic setting, one of the few, if not the only photos with the whole group. There was also a nice moment when Ryan, Will, and I dawned the red caps for a photo of the 3 of us. This whole trip had sort of been our brainchild - Ryan, almost unwittingly, thought it up; me and Will enthusiastically embraced the idea; and Will more or less executed it - and with Will back with us after a few days apart, it kind of came full circle for us on this day. Christmas Day in the Bernese Oberland was what all 3 of us were really looking forward to just about most for the trip, especially since this was the first new locale that the 3 of us had visited thus far. From the time we woke up to the time we went to sleep, the day did not disappoint.

Once the aforementioned biting wind had taken its toll on us atop the Sphinx, and we had taken enough photos to content ourselves with, we headed back indoors for the warmth of the inside. We then labored a bit before settling on having lunch in the cafeteria area of the Jungfraujoch. We comadiered some tables to sit at and then got in line. or at least everyone one did but me, Ryan, and Will. We stayed behind to save the tabels while the rest got their sustenance. In the meantime, the 3 of us talked amongst ourselves as men do when an eavesdropper from the next table chimed in, recognizing our accents no doubt, and informed us she lived in Virginia, originally from Roanoake I believe (which sparked mentions of Chris from our hotel), though she lived elsewhere now...small world.

Shortly thereafter, it became clear that we had gotten to the cafeteria just in time as the line began to grow exponentially longer, causing Ryan and Will to meet up with their families to make sure they got food without having to wait forever. I decided that I was not really all that hungry and stayed behind, figuring that I would just eat some snacks instead. In actuality, what happened is that I ate some leftover ravioli from my family and sampled the various other dishes that everyone had gotten. A bit of a beggar's meal, I suppose, but no less satisfyiing.

Hard to believe, but we had already been at the Jungfraujoch for a while by the time we finished lunch. The only thing left for us to do was to head to the gift shop, then the Ice Palace with a quick detour to the plateau of the glacier. We actually spent a bit of time in the gift shop area as everyone searched for the perfect gift. Plus, at the Jungfraujoch you can mail postcards with a special Jungfraujoch stamp right on the spot. So a number of people from our group took advantag of this and wrote out some postcards, gathered addresses for the people they wanted to send them to, had them stamped, and sent them off. Meanwhile, the Crabtree's, wanting to spend an extended amount of time on the glacier plateau as well as the Ice Palace, pressed on ahead while the rest stayed back to work on postcards and pick out souvenirs, all the while still enjoying the view of the Aletsch Glacier.

Our personal tasks completed, the rest of the group began to move towards the elevator that would take us to the Ice Palace. Upon exiting the elevator, Ryan, Will, and I were only briefly put off by a display advertizing for Euro 2008, an international soccer tournament to be played during June, 2008, in both Austria and Switzerland, a tournament sure to capture the imagination of many, not least us 3 soccer fanatics who only lamented the fact we would not be here during the finals, but thankfully, HDTV cures many ails.

It might have been fun attempting to kick soccer balls through small holes in the display, but our American roots would have no doubt been laid bare, and the Ice Palace beckoned anyway, so we went on our merry way towards the marvelous ice structure that is carved into and under the Aletsch Glacier. We soon reached a long, ice-covered tunnel that led into the heart of the Ice Palace. As we stepped onto the icy footing, the younger generation amongst our group immediately regressed about 15 years back into their childhood. A few of us began to slide on the ice rather than walk on it while Will, perhaps unwittingly, found time to pay homage to separate iconic moments of pop culture, first letting loose with moves straight out of Michael Jackson's repetoire before pretending to stick his tongue on the icy wall as inspired by A Christmas Story, or Henry Dunne I suppose.

A few of us probably had as much fun in the tunnel leading into the Ice Palace as we did in the Ice Palace itself. This is not meant as a slight towards the Ice Palace, it is just that some of us are easily invogorated by a nostalgic youth. The Ice Palace itself did look amazing though as we slid from sculpture to sculpture. For this native Chattanoogan, the displays conjured up memories of Rock City and its gnome displays towards the end of that tour, not so much in the similarity of the displays themselves as in the spirit of them. Here you are in this majestic mountain setting (yes, I realize the Jungfrau stretches quite a few thousand feet higher than Lookout Mountain, but still) and then you have this fantastical sort of display that is there as a sort of afterthought to the rest of the place.

After sort of breezing through the Ice Palace (it is not really that big after all) we headed above ground once again to meet up with the Crabtree's around the glacier plateau before catching the train back down the mountain. Ryan and I briefly set foot on the glaicer, though the little traction afforded my birkenstocks meant I did not make it far out on to the icy plain, especially since I was still smarting from a fall in the Ice Palace when I got a little too clever with my footwork on the ice. After traveling about ten yards out on top of the glacier, I did not wish to repeat my mistake, though I still ventured out far enough to cause my arms to flail about as I searched for my equilibrium. Ryan, I am happy to report, made it much further out than I did, perhaps even as far as the Swiss flag that dominated the crest of the ridge before us.

This was only a quick detour, however, before we headed back towards the Jungfraubahn to begin our descent down the mountain. After a brief wait in line, we were soon aboard the train and everyone seemed glad to take a seat and merely catch their breath after a long Christmas day despite the fact it was only about 15:00 or so. Indeed, a good portion of our crew spent the ride down from the Jungfraujoch to Kleine Scheidegg napping. Not as much time was spent in the tunnel for the ride down, but beautiful scenery or not, everyone was feeling quite pensive. Ryan was only fully awaken from his brief slumber when I gave him a song on my iPod to listen to. Leaving my volume on full blast, it must have sounded like a sonic boom judging by the look on his face after having given him my headphones and pressing play. He was awake now, and before long anyhow, we were disembarking at Kleine Scheidegg for a brief layover before heading to Lauterbrunnen, as we would be heading back down the mountain a different way than we came up.

Our layover at Kleine Scheidegg gave us a bit of time to wander around the rail station's environs. This did not amount to much more than me, Danny, Ryan, and Will walking to the far end of the tracks, allowing for a nice photo as we paroused the base of the nearest mountain rise. It was a nice part of the day. The sunlight was definitely beginning to fade a little bit as our shadows grew long, but it was resonably comfortable up at Kleine Scheidegg as we awaited our next train. When I was not looking towards the mountains, I was seranading my parents (via my iPod of course) with that most perfect of Christmas songs, Nat King Cole's aptly named "The Christmas Song". It was not long after before our train to Lauterbrunnen appeared.

Our trip down the mountain afforded ample more opportunities to take in the Alpine scenery. It also proved to further feel me with pinges of desire to hit the slopes because the trip down the mountain seemed to take us right into the heart of the top skiing in the Bernese Oberland. One cannot be sure, but it seemed as if one could find a way to ski from Kleine Scheidegg to Lauterbrunnen if they so wished. As our train rolled down the mountain, those skiers glided side by side at times, wooshing through the beautiful powder. The highlight came as we passed through the town of Wengen. It was a beautiful resort town in its own right, worthy of a postcard image and much more as we approached, but it was when we got close that it really began to grab our imagination. Looking past the lodges into what appeared to be a main avenue of Wengen, we began to see skiers zipping through here and there and it soon became clear that people were skiing right through the heart of town. What a way to get around.

As we approached the stop at the end of Wengen, unsurprisingly, it became quite clear that this was a very popular ski destination as the number of people getting on and off was quite large. My Dad briefly struck up a conversation with a Japanese father and son who got on the train. They were learning how to ski here, and judging by their enthusiastic expressions, they were having a fine time doing so, and I envied them greatly. Shortly after leaving Wengen, we were winding down the mountain and around one corner we were presented with beautiful view of the Lauterbrunnen Valley (note: the picture included is obviously not from our winter trip). This locale had first captured my fancy while watching an episode of Rick Steve's Europe in which he visited the town of the same name. I marveled at the scenes of the town's waterfall and high cliffsides on either side of town, and the feeling was no different when seeing it for the first time in person. I gasped as I looked down on the valley as we approached, realizing that I was actually looking at Lauterbrunnen, the only difference being the snow and the fact that its waterfall was frozen into the side of the mountain. Perhaps all one needs to know about the town is that it reputedly was the inspiration behind Tolkien's Rivendell, such is the fantastical imagery it conjures.

We were soon in Lauterbrunnen itself for our final layover before heading back to Interlaken. I had intended to have one of my classic loner moments to further explore Lauterbrunnen, but the fading sunlight meant that my brief excursion was not really worth it, except that my brother Eddie called (from Georgia, obviously) while I was walking about and I was able to direct him towards a photo on the internet of Lauterbrunnen so that he could see the amazing setting we were visiting at this exact moment, which also led to me bragging about our White Christmas. Otherwise, I made it back to the station before my party boarded, and we all ended up making the trip back to Interlaken together. This portion of the trip was rather uneventful with the sun setting fast, but I think we welcomed the respite as we pulled into Interlaken Ost. It had been a long day and we were all looking forward to a reserved evening's dinner. From Interlaken Ost, we made the quick trip to Interlaken West and walked back to our hotel. We then took a quick sort of breather before congregating back down in the lobby around 19:00 or so to head back up to Interlaken West to catch a bus for our 19:30 reservation at a restaurant called the Hirschen. We were a little weary about catching the bus as its schedule seemed to be a bit archaic, but we were soon seated, with me, Ryan, and Will separate from the rest of the group where me and Ryan shared with Will our concerns about our parents' lack of adaptability to the European restaurant system. But there would be no such issue this night. Our only issue with dinner came when we missed the closest bus stop to the Hirschen; it was a bit trial and error after all, but one stop past did not provide too much of a walk for us, and soon we were seated in the warm and friendly confines of the Hirschen.

Our Christmas dinner here would prove to be a real treat. The food was great and the atmosphere delightful. It had a sort of stereotypical Swiss Alpine feel to it and we would not have been surprised to hear some yodeling at some stage. There was even a dog sleeping at the door next to the restrooms to round things off. The older lady who waited on us did not speak perfect English by any means, but communication would not be an issue at all for us. I cannot quite remember what everyone had, but various forms of schnitzel was quite popular amongst our group. All of us were quite pleased with the meal, and I especially seem to remember Ryan being quite enthused about his dinner, seemingly laughing like a bowlfull of jelly at the thought of the fine meal he had just helped himself to. It really was a glorious meal that we had enjoyed and I do not believe there were any complaints from anyone. We really made a sort of European meal of it. We ordered, we waited for our food, we had friendly banter here and there. My Dad and Danny no doubt sampled the local brew. I'm quite sure that collectively, this was the best dinner experience throughout the whole trip for everyone. It struck just the right note for a Christmas dinner. It had been a long day, and with dinner over, it was time to head home and retire for the night. Christine, Kevin, my Mom, and the Grant's would all catch taxis back to the hotel, but the rest of us looked at a map and thought that the distance from the restaurant to the hotel was not too great to walk, so why waste the Euros on a taxi, and with some deft power walking, so it proved. We definitely moved at a brisk pace through residential Interlaken, and the darkness made navigating tricky, but it was a nice way to work off a glorious meal, and it also allowed for further commisseration between those walking. But we soon found our way back to the hotel, and happily headed to our rooms to let our heads hit our pillows, and finally drawing this long day to a close. Another long travel day to Munich awaited us tomorrow, and we needed the rest.

Stille Nacht

Monday, 24 December 2007

Christmas Eve saw us sleeping in a bit as our only real priority today was the relatively short journey from Geneva to Interlaken and the heart of the Bernese Oberland, and our train did not leave until 11:30. The only thing on our agenda for the morning was making the continental breakfast before it closed and validating our Eurail passes since we had failed to do so the previous day. My Dad and I did so first to make sure the process would be a pretty straightforward one, and it proved to be so. I went back to the hotel while my Dad searched the underground mall connected to the train station for some power converters for American goods since the McCoy women had already blown the fuses on the two that had previously gotten me through 3 months in Europe while living in England, but such is the power of hair dryers compared to battery chargers and clock radios.

After resolving our logistical issues, we were soon standing on the platform awaiting the 11:30 train to Brig, a small resort town tucked away in the Swiss Alps where we would connect to a train heading for Spiez and then to Interlaken. When the Crabtree's and the Grant's got their Eurail passes validated, they found that it would actually be faster to catch a train straight to Bern and then straight to Interlaken rather than having multiple changeovers going via Brig, but I assured them that Will had planned this route because the trains would be far less crowded, which they were, and the Alpine scenery on display would make the route worthwhile, and it was.

Somewhat relative to this travel debate, one of my fondest personal memories of the trip

occurred on the platform as we awaited the train to Brig. After a few days in Europe with me being the sort of de facto leader due to Will's absence, my Dad admitted to being impressed with my travel acumen. I say this with the deepest respect for my mother, but both of us have long been considered the sort of black sheep of the McCoy family with regard to our traveling and logistical prowess. Even though I had previously spent three months living in London followed by another two weeks of traveling across Western Europe, not to mention intermittent trips throughout various locations in Great Britain, my Dad probably had some doubts as to my capability when it came to traversing a continent, having no firsthand knowledge of my experience himself, but on the platform in Geneva he readily admitted to being impressed with the way I had seemingly mastered the fine art of getting around Europe, and for the duration of the trip he would no longer question me, Ryan, or Will. It felt good.

Ego boost put aside for now, we were soon on a train to Brig, and it would be about a two and a half hour trip through the pristine Swiss countryside. The trains for today required no reservation, so Alex had to be in the second class car at least until having her ticket checked, but once this was done, she headed back to first class with the rest of the group. I would have been absolutely fine with the company of my fellow travelers, but it was nice on a relatively uncrowded train to just sort of sit back, switch on my iPod, and enjoy the ride around Lake Geneva and through the heart of French speaking Alpine Switzerland.

On my previous journey through Switzerland with Ryan and Will, we had been a bit unlucky in that our journey through the country was hampered by a low-lying fog. We could still get a sense of the enormity of the mountains and the beauty of the landscape as we took the train from

Geneva to Brig to Bern and finally to Zurich, but we were far luckier this time to see the sun shine. There was still a bit of fog surrounding Lake Geneva, but the sun was poking through here and there, and by the time we reached the eastern end of Lake Geneva near Montreux the fog had all but lifted, just in time for our first real look at the Swiss Alps in the valley of the Rhone that separates the Pennine Alps from the Bernese Alps.

While the fog had slightly dampened our previous trip through the Alps, me, Will, and Ryan had lucked out in the sense that there was a solid blanket of snow on the ground to enjoy through just about the entirety of the trip from Geneva to

Brig. That was not the case this time though there were pockets of snow on the ground here in there. This did little to take away from the majesty of the Alpine scenery, however, especially with clear blue skies now providing the perfect backdrop.

We arrived at Brig around 14:00 and had about a 50 minute layover before we caught a short train ride to Spiez. On my last trip through Brig with Ryan and Will, I was lucky enough to have Ryan and Will stick behind at the station and watch my luggage while I treated myself to a quick 30 minute walk around the town and found the small sort of resort town to be absolutely charming, but as mentioned earlier, the weather was not so accommodating 2 years previous, and with blue skies above I was determined to see what Brig looked like basked in glorious sunshine.

I was a bit aggrieved, however, that no one would be joining me, though I admit that this might owe to my own selfishness in wanting so badly to see the town again, meaning others had to stay behind to watch the luggage, which, in the end, everyone but me did. It was in Brig 2 years before that I had really fallen in love with Switzerland, and I was hoping to share this experience with the others, but undeterred, I set about to retrace my steps from 2 years before.

With a layover of about 50 minutes I set out on whirlwind tour of Brig once again. Brig is part of the canton of Valais, which is a predominantly French speaking region, but Brig is just about where German speaking Switzerland begins in this part of the country, although its particular German dialect is specific to this canton only. It is doubtful that it would be listed as one of the top ski destinations in Switzerland, but based on my previous trips here I gather that it is a popular resort town for the locals with its Alpine surroundings.

I exited the train station right into the heart of Brig as I crossed the road and walked up a cobblestone street dotted with specialty shops. As I walked up the road my view was dominated by a mountain peak that loomed large over this part of town. It did not take me long to discover that Brig was every bit as charming as I remembered it. It will not be marked out by any tourist as a place to go out of your way to get to, but if it is on your path as you travel around this part of Europe and you have a layover as we did, find somewhere to store the bags while you enjoy the town's ambiance. Then again, if you are traveling around Europe, I am sure that you could find countless other towns with equal amounts of charm.

Some of the architecture conjured thoughts of the Brothers Grimm, or at the very least the fantastical German-speaking world. An ice skating rink appeared as I walked up the street towards a little town platz with a mountain peak once again rounding off the wonderful scene, with signs of Christmas here in there in the form of a large Christmas tree in the town centre as well as hanging stars, though still not not enough to quench my seasonal palate. My history did become a little hazy as I headed left from this square towards a hill dotted with medieval streets that sort of looms over the eastern part of town, but I soon found a familiar marker that let me know I was on the right path.

Helped by my past photographs, there was always this sort of baroque building, either a church or a sort of dormitory, that dominated my thoughts of Brig because of its serene setting, peaceful looking as it was. Plus, as I climbed the hill just behind it I was rewarded with a beautiful vantage point looking west towards the town and beyond through the Alpine valley from whence we had just come. It was this baroque building with its onion domed towers that left me in no doubt that I was retracing the same exact steps as before. It was sort of surreal to be in this same, small corner of the world just 2 years on, though it did look a bit different this time without the light dusting of snow and the blue skies revealing mountains in the background.

Not long did I linger at this baroque setting for I knew greater prizes awaited if I climbed the hill beyond. I walked through the courtyard and scaled a brick wall and found myself walking around a sort of medieval path that led up the hill towards what was either a mansion or a museum, though I cared little as to what it definitively represented. I knew I was close to my vantage point and, looking at my watch and noting my dwindling time, I hurried towards my destination to enjoy what I could of the view and take some rushed pictures of the town and its environs. I took one more look and one more photo before I headed back down the hill towards the same medieval backstreet that I had gone down 2 years before as I swiftly headed back through town towards the train station to rendezvous with the rest of my group before we boarded a train heading to Spiez, our final layover of the day.

For this short train ride of 30 minutes or so, Alex decided to slum it up back in second class with me since there was no need to really move from second class to first class for such a brief ride. She said she had enjoyed the trip through Switzerland so far. She was eager to see some snow, however, and as mentioned earlier, that was not quite yet the case. I assured her though that our trip to Spiez was bound to offer some fantastic snow scenery as we would be heading up into the mountains.

Or so I thought. We would be traveling along the same route that me, Ryan, and Will did 2 years ago, as we headed to Bern from Brig, but this time, we ended up going underneath the mountains whereas last time we rose high into the mountains which were packed with snow, even coming across a soccer field perched on a cliff side along the way. We even rose high enough to rise above the foggy weather last time, and it was such a fantastic trip that it was a real shame to miss out on it this time by traveling under the mountains, plus I felt a bit foolish since our journey to Spiez was spent mainly in the darkness of tunnels instead of snow-covered valleys.

Our brief layover at Spiez, however, did make up for it quite a bit. Our train platform was right across the street from a great overlook of Lake Thun, one of the two big lakes that surround Interlaken, which after all means "between the lakes." It was really one of the sights of the trip thus far as we looked over the town of Spiez to the lakes and mountains below with towns nestled here and there along the mountainside. We would be traveling along the south bank of Lake Thun as we made the brief trip of 20 minutes to Interlaken from Spiez, and the scenery was gorgeous as we were introduced to the charms of the Bernese Oberland in full.

After a decent amount of leisure traveling for the day, we arrived at the Interlaken West Station just before 16:00. Interlaken was indeed the land between the lakes, but it was also the land surrounded by mountains. Everywhere you turned there were mountains, befitting the resort town status of Interlaken I suppose. For now, though, we headed to our hotel, which was just a short enough distance away for all of us to walk and so we headed south on Rugenparkstrasse towards our hotel, a B&B called the Hotel Rugenpark. It was just a short walk down the street before we saw it on the left. We all crammed into the lobby and found a woman named Ursula waiting for us. She checked for the reservations and soon had us all lined up with room keys before offering us welcome drinks, giving us a choice of I believe cider and a sort of warm wine with fruit dipped in it. I opted for the latter and found it to be very similar to a drink that a Viennese friend had shown me, Ryan, and Will outside the Hofburg Palace in Vienna 2 years before. Ursula's husband, Chris, then made his way into the lobby to help some of us with hauling our luggage up to our rooms. When listening to Chris talk, his accent seemed to indicate that he was American, though you could tell he probably had lived in Europe for a number of years as there was a hint of Swiss-German dialect when he talked.

As we soon found out, he was born and raised in Roanoke, Virginia, not too far from our neck of the woods, but he had lived over here for 16 years now, living the dream as it were, at least as my parents thought I must have viewed it, for they soon pointed out to Chris that this was a sort of dream for me; to move over to Europe and live in great comfort and relative obscurity in a small place like Interlaken. After just a few minutes in the town I have to admit that this probably was not too far off of the truth, especially after seeing how content both Ursula (who was Swiss) and Chris seemed. They are positively some of the nicest people I have ever met and the most gracious hosts you could ever wish for. I, as well as everyone else in the group, cannot say enough about how kind and accommodating they were. Interlaken was a great place to visit by itself, but our stay with Ursula and Chris at the Hotel Rugenpark for a few days helped to make our stay in Interlaken one of the best memories of our time in Europe.

The lodging was not actually the most luxurious or anything (the frequency of cold showers was a bit frustrating), but it was certainly comfortable enough, and again, the warmth exuded by Ursula and Chris left me in no doubt as to where my first lodging choice will be if I come back to Interlaken again. We had a few hours to kill before heading to our 19:30 reservation at a place called the Grand Restaurant Schuh, so of course Ursula offered us a map of Interlaken, first of all showing us where our restaurant was as well as marking out a nice route on the map which would make for a scenic walk around town, pointing out that the old town of Unterseen just across the river would be worth a visit. Dusk sort of prevented us from really committing to this walk, but armed with a free bus pass from Ursula and Chris which we did not actually use this night, we were soon on our way out the door to walk around Interlaken and see what kind of amusement we could scrounge up for ourselves on Christmas Eve in Switzerland.

As the sun faded in the distance, we walked back up the Rugenparkstrasse, stopping off at a sort of mall briefly before turning onto the Höheweg, the main drag of Interlaken as it runs through the part of town marked by ssouvenir shops, restaurants, and hotels, including the famed Grand Hotel Beau Rivage. Before heading very far down the Höheweg, however, we turned off the road towards Unterseen and crossed over the Aare River, drawn there by Christmas lights that seemed worth a detour on this holy night. The sights on view turned out to be nothing more really than a little square marked by a Christmas tree, a pet store that caught our interest, and an overall residential ambiance encompassed by this part of town.

It was lovely, but the time of day meant we did not venture far into this dimly lit area, though we did pause for pictures on the bridge that separates Interlaken from Unterseen, with a sign pointing this out for us, though our eyes were also drawn to the silhouetted figures of looming mountains in the distance still visible in the gathering dusk. It is interesting to note that these two towns, which are literally a stone's throw away from each other, share a checkered past with one another. Interlaken, known as Aarmühle until 1891, was founded in the 12th century while Unterseen, which in Middle High German meant "between lake", was founded in 1279. They were in conflict with one another and Unterseen even enlisted the protection of Bern. The Reformation only heightened the rivalry between these two towns which today essentially form one resort town that acts as a springboard to the outdoorsman's paradise that is the Bernese Oberland. Done commisserating over the great Interlaken-Unterseen divide, we headed back towards the Höheweg to check out the few shops which were still open on Christmas Eve. This yielded some souvenirs for all of us, though the top accolade for best prize-hunting goes to Ryan who disregarded a Swiss woman's pleas that her shop was closed and walked on in with his typically cocky American attitude and looked around, buying himself a Switzerland t-shirt as well as a tobaggan I believe, having lost the one he brought from home already. In doing this, Ryan became what he despised while working at EB Games: a belligirent shopper who keeps shop employees at work longer than they wish, and on Christmas Eve no less. Or maybe I have just spent this passage making mountains out of mole hills. You be the judge.

Having sufficiently burned a decent amout of time shopping and walking around, we decided to head towards the Grand Restaurant Schuh and see if we could begin our dinner a bit earlier than our reservations had us listed for. This ended up working out fine and we were soon sitting down to what would be a famous, or rather infamous, dinner. This was our second night in Switzerland, and a number of us decided to try the fondue, because, you know, when in Rome. But over the course of the dinner, we found that there were those amongst us whom, when it comes to fondue, fondon't, a phrase made famous that night by one Matthew Ryan Grant. The overall reactions to fondue ranged from discontent, of which Ryan of course was the most vociferous proponent (though he had solid backing I believe from Beth and the Crabtree's), to outright apathy, the star to which me and my Mom hitched our wagons.

Neither me nor my Mom thought it was all that great, but we had least come to Switzerland and tried the fondue. My only real problem with it is that it is more of an appetizer than a full meal, but poor Ryan was having none of it. He resorted to eating most of Lisa's dinner to both sate his delicate pallat and remove the bitter taste to which he had subjected his mouth. For my part, I filled msyelf up with plenty of bread as well as ice cream, and was otherwise willing to call the dinner a success. But our eventful dinner experience was not down to the reactions to the fondue alone. The service was not exactly top shelf, and our waiter seemed to be openly annoyed and short with us at times, which created quite a stir with all the parental units, no doubt in some cases realizing Europe's worst fear of the arrogant American tourist at dinner. Actually, that was not the case at all. Being Southerners, after all, we remained quite civil througout the dinner despite the notable loss of patience of our waiter.

In reality, even though for European standards our waiter was quite bad, me and Ryan kind of agreed that the biggest problem lay in our families' uncompromising lack of willingness to adapt to the fact that Europe is not a service-oriented society. They bring you food, drinks, and the bills; they are not always there to be your friend. This is not to say that we had numerous experiences with rude hosts, but it became common for our families to belittle the European restaurant system for any number of things, whether it be the leisurely pace or the difficulty at splitting the bill. They could never seem to just get on with it much to the chagrin of me and Ryan this night. Our culinary adventure over and the night growing ever colder, we headed back to the hotel, where good news awaited in the form of the Robertson's, who had left Paris that morning and traveled all the way to Interlaken to reunite with the group. They had gone to the hospital in Paris the previous day where Christine underwent numerous tests before they confirmed that she had nothing more than a violent bug, probably induced from the overseas travel, and while she was still not 100 percent, she was well enough to travel to join back up with us, which was a great relief to everyone because Will feared at one point that they might even have to head back to Tennessee rather than embarking on our great European adventure. Needless to say, there were relieved hugs and greetings all around as 9 became 12 once again.

After the reunion, the rest of the group decided to call it a night given that an early morning ride to the Top of Europe beckoned the next day, but all of the McCoy's prepared to head to a Christmas Eve service at a local Protestant church. My Mom had wanted to attend a Christmas service while we were in Europe, and I saw that both a Protestant church and Catholic church in Interlaken, both of which stand side by side of each other, would be conducting Christmas Eve services around 22:30. With Ursula's help, we called a local cab service and around 22:00 or so, we headed to the church, which was on the other side of town, though with Interlaken being not huge, it only took us about 5 minutes to arrive at our destination.

After receiving instructions from our driver on how to commandeer a taxi after the service was over, we followed the local patrons towards two modest, but no less impressive, churches just ahead. It was a perfect night really. It was quite cold, but also quite clear as a result, and the full moon wondrously illuminated the snow-capped peaks surrounding the town, no doubt appeasing everyone on this most holy of nights with the scenery. This was the setting as we walked towards the two churches, quickly discerning which church was the Protestant one where we would attend the service.

We headed towards the entrance where some teenaged kids greeted us with a courteous smile and a "Hallo!" along with a service sheet documenting how the service would go as well as a candle which was to be lit at some point in the service. We said "danke" and instantly got the sense that even if these people realized we were foreigners, and I have an inkling that they did, they did not mind at all and were more than happy to share their experience with us as they pointed us towards the stairs to head to the pews upstairs in the balcony since the floor seating was already full.

We walked upstairs where there was already quite a crowd gathered as well, but there was enough seating here and there for all 4 of us. Some of the people, realizing we were a family of 4, graciously made room so that we could all sit together. From the smiling gestures and lack of verbal communication, I was in no doubt that these people knew we did not speak German, but again, they seemed more than happy to have us. Looking below, the church seemed not quite as modest on the inside as on the outside. While not on par of course with other grand cathedrals that we would see during our time in Europe, the church actually expanded quite nicely and made room for lots of people inside, making for a packed and frenzied atmosphere for tonight's service.

Looking over the service sheet, it confirmed that the service would be in German as we expected, but that actually made the experience all the more memorable. There would be a number of songs to sing, but the only one we recognized while looking over the sheet was "Stille Nacht", or "Silent Night."

The service soon began and some of the teenaged kids whom had greeted us at the door soon moved to the front of the congregation to give greetings in different languages, one of which was Enlish. Pretty soon, the service moved into a steady, repeating pattern of sermonizing and scripture reading from the Pastor followed by music. We could not of course understand what was being said except for a few words here in there given our limited German, but as one would expect, the service was not all that different from one back home, and religion has the power for any semi-regular churchgoer to undersand the gist of what is being said, regardless of language.

And so we sat back and enjoyed the moment, listening to the pastor and trying to guess exactly what he was talking about. When the congregation stood to sing, we stood with them and sang in the best Swiss German that we could muster as we read the lyrics off the sheet for each song. Soon after the service began, the candles that we and all the patrons were holding were lit, and many remained so for most, if not all of the rest of the service. The dripping red wax burned my hands and fell onto my service sheet (which can be seen in my photo), but I held out until long into the service before eventually having to blow it out before it melted in my hand.

I feared that my family would be a bit put off by the experience of attending a Christmas Eve church service in held in German, but the many glances I cast in their direction showed me that they too (aside from Beth fighting a little bout of drowsiness here and there) were enjoying this unique Christmas experience. When there were songs to be sung, my Dad sang with as much gusto as he does back home at St. Francis Episcopal Church. The whole wonderful experience made for a special Christmas memory for 2007, which was most especially welcome given the way that our time thus far in Europe had really not exuded the sort of Christmas spirit we are accustomed to back home.

Afterwards, we walked back into the cold air and once more enjoyed the starry night and full moon and illuminated mountain ranges as we walked towards a payphone to hail a taxi. We waited a few shivering minutes for the taxi to arrive, taking in one last time the glorious setting around the two churches before soon climbing into a warm taxi. On the ride back to our hotel, our taxi driver assured us that for Interlaken and this time of year, it was actually quite cold compared to the last few Christmas's. Global warming, it seemed, had taken a toll the last few years, but it was nowhere to be seen this night, and that was fine, because that is the way it should be on Christmas after all.

We soon arrived back at our hotel and wished our driver a "guten nacht" and a "Merry Christmas" as we headed inside and up to our room. It was around midnight at this point, so we thought we would be clever and wish Eddie a "Merry Christmas" from the future, but as fate would have it, he was actually at a Christmas Eve service himself a quarter of the way around the world and so did not answer our call. It was now time to call it a night and get a little sleep since we were rising early the next morning to catch a ride up to the Jungfrau and the Top of Europe. It had been a memorable night.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Hirten dort halten Wacht.

Singt vom Himmel ein herrliches Lied

Engel künden: O fürchtet euch nicht.

Christ der Retter ist da. Christ der Retter ist da.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Gott hat sich klein gemacht.

Liegt ais Kindlein im nächtlichen Stall,

hat erschaffen die Welt und das All.

Kommt, wir beten ihn an, kommt, wir beten ihn an.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Liebe hat Heil gebracht.

Kommt von Himmel im göttlichen Wort,

nun wird Erde zum himmlischen Ort.

Christ, in deiner geburt, Christ, in deiner Geburt.