I want to live in a castle, and I will take no dissent on this matter.
I've spent the last 45 minutes dashing through ancient stones and concrete of the Chateau de Chillon, a 14th century castle built on the shores of Lake Geneva. I've never been in a real castle before. It is truly wonderful. To reside in the close embrace of solid, living stone would be magical.
I woke up late again this morning, around 10:30. I think I'm still partially on Seattle time. My destination today is Gruyeres, where they have cheese, another castle, and an H.R. Giger museum. I've been rushing a bit, wanting to have time to explore Gruyeres before it closes. I drove along the lake from Geneva, passing through a string of small towns among the vineyards and cornfields. I stopped briefly in Montreux, sent some email and had a kebab, then continued on to here.
This place is so nice I might have to rethink my traveling strategy. It's been my philosophy, so far, to avoid the places that tourists go. I want to experience the real culture, not the flypaper facade used to trap foreign dollars. But now I've discovered that there is real culture, real history, and real stone to be found where the tourists are. I was initially wary of coming to Chateau de Chillon -- they once made a movie here, and I was afraid that would be its sole drawing point. But sitting here in the tower, drawing peace from stones placed 500 years ago, I'm glad I came.
I'm sitting on the decaying stone of the castle wall, my feet dangling into several hundred feet of empty fresh air. Below me lies the Swiss countryside, green, dotted with orange-tiled houses, stretching away into haze-shrouded mountains. A glider-plane just floated barely 50 feet over head, silent but for a barely perceptible hum. This is a magical place.
This Swiss villages are uniformly quaint. Postcard houses line the streets, all tiled with varying shades of the same earthen orange, all painted varying shades of pastel pink, all with red flowers in the window boxes. I wish I was staying here instead of Geneva. This is the kind of place where I feel I could spend some time doing nothing. So far in Geneva, I've felt compelled to keep moving, keep walking, keep exploring, trying to find... something. Here, I feel like I've already found it.
I was a bit concerned about arriving late to Gruyeres; I was worried I'd find everything closed and empty. As it turns out, Gruyeres is jam-packed with tourists. The old town below the castle is all restaurants and gift shops; the castle itself has become an art gallery.
From up here the village of Gruyeres appears mostly residential, and off in the distance I can see two larger towns -- one of which I think is Bolle; the other I don't know. The sound of cowbells is drifting up from the fields below. I think all the cows wear bells. Every time the cow moves it generates a few of those dull, hollow tones. I wonder what it's like to have such a constantly musical life? I would prefer to have a few more instruments in my own personal orchestra. But then, cows are much simpler creatures.
The air is a bit colder up here, and smells faintly of smoke and grass. Every now and then the sun will pop out from behind the clouds, spotlighting a different part of the valley below me. The mountains seem more personal than the ones I'm used to back home. They're smaller, shrouded with green meadows and dotted with chalets, and they seem warm, friendly, inviting. I'd love to spend some time here tramping through the high meadows.
Another glider has just launched from an airfield below the castle. It's now coming in to strafe me as I sit on the castle wall. I might go down and buy a ride later today.
It's too bad I haven't met more of the people of Switzerland. I've got a feel now for the structure and the landscape of this part of the country, but I don't know anything about the people. The Poet from Geneva gave me a few interesting opinions about the people and the land, but he was a little bit crazy and a little bit drunk. I'd like a larger sample set before I draw any conclusions.
The Chateau St. Germaine, the castle overlooking Gruyeres, is now an art gallery. The prime attraction is the HR Giger museum. Giger is the visionary designer for such films as the Alien series and Species. The Giger gallery was fascinating and entirely too small. The rest of castle is given over to rotating displays by various artists, and all the paintings seem to carry on the theme of Giger's works. There seemed to be a tinge of madness and decay underlying even the most brightly coloured, positive portrayals. Perhaps Swiss society is due for a breakdown...?
6:30 pm -- Auberge de la Halle, The old village of Gruyeres, Switzerland
The whole lower village smells like ripe, fragrant cheese. This is the land of fondue, after all, and I'm intent on having some. So, I'm a restaurant right now, about to enjoy dinner. I've ordered the Menu de Fromage. It consists of various cheeses in various forms. The main dish is something called raclette, with potatoes, dried meat, and bread. I'm not quite sure what I'm getting. I'm in a big booth by myself, so I can hide the computer on the bench beside me and type as the meal progresses...
The waitress brought my eau gassee, wine (from Fribourg, just up the road), bread, and some sort of warming contraption. Then, she brought out a big hunk of cheese, put it under the warming contraption, and also brought some pickles and onions. Behind the warming contraption there's a wooden tub full of potatoes. Beside it there's a wooden board covered with neatly folded slices of pink dried meat.
I have no idea what to do.
I think I'm supposed to wait for the cheese to melt, and then eat it with the bread, meat, pickles, and stuff. The cheese is starting to bubble a bit... I'll munch on the pickles for a while, and see if I get any great ideas.
(later) Okay, I decided to just start eating. The top layer of the cheese is all melted, so I just scrape it off with whatever food I want to eat, and voila, there's dinner. No more time to type -- I don't want the cheese to burn...
(later) The pickles are outstanding. It's hard to get the cheese to stick to them, though.
(later) I've discovered that I've also got a long-handled knife (in addition to a long-handled fork) that is ideally shaped for scooping the melted cheese off the block and onto the food.
(later) The waitress just came by and I asked her if I was eating this stuff properly. She gave me a quizzical look. Was it a stupid question? No, she just didn't understand my English. I tried French: "Comment on mange ca?" (how do you eat this?). She smiled, took the utensils from me, and began expertly carving and massaging the block of cheese. It turns out I had the right idea.
In French, she said something like, "you take the cheese, here, and you take, oh, a potato, and cut it in half. Then you put the cheese on the potato. This part, here," -- she pointed at one of the edges of the cheese block, which was turning golden brown -- "c'est dore". I'm not sure what dore means. She carved it off and dumped it in the middle of the block.
Indicating the dore bit, I asked: "Ca c'est bon?" (is it good?) She didn't give me a straight answer. "Bon appetit!" she said, and left me again to my own devices. It turns out the dore bits are pretty tasty.
(later) This is a huge amount of food. I won't be able to finish it all. Just the potatoes and cheese alone are a meal for two, let along the pickles, bread, and dried meat.
(later) I've discovered that if I put the bread under the warming contraption with the cheese, I can end up with very nice toast.
(later) Getting full... the potatoes are small but I've only had three of the ten or fifteen in the tub. Most the meat is gone, though. I think there's dessert after this, too.
(later) Most of the cheese is gone. I think I started with about half of a pound.
(later) A little puff of smoke just came off of the warming contraption. That can't be a good sign. I hope it's just some cheese that I accidently scraped onto the heating element.
(later) The dried meat is nice: very thinly sliced, and slightly on the sour side. Now it's all gone.
(later) Done. I am full, and I left about half the pickles, most of the potatoes, and some bread. That was yummy. Now how do I turn off the warming contraption? Hmmm...no off switch.
(later) Okay, maybe just one more pickle...
The waitress just came and asked if I was done. Yup. She cleared everything away and then brought dessert. "Voila, framboises et la creme." (here you go, raspberries and cream.) I believe the cream is made with gruyere cheese (I think that's what the menu said), but it's hard to tell.
(later) The raspberries are really good, and so is the cream -- although it's a little on the heavy side. I guess that's what I get for ordering "the cheese meal".
(later) Now, I'm definitely done. That was a pretty good meal. Simple, to the point, and very filling. My teeth are full of raspberry seeds.
(later) I just ordered some coffee, which may sounds strange to people who know me -- I'm a near-fanatical tea drinker. But, after a meal like that, I think I need something stronger.
(later) The waitress delivered a chocolate cup filled with light cream with my coffee. Is that to go in the cup, or my mouth? I decided the cream was for the cup, the chocolate for my mouth. Bon appetit!
10:20 pm -- Back at the hotel, Geneva
After dinner I went for a walk, trying to get the blood flowing again after the gargantuan meal. I headed up towards the castle, which was closed, and found a path that ran around the hill. The sun had set about an hour ago and the sky lay upon the fields, thick, gray, ghosting the meadows in the distance.
The path descended down towards the base of the hill upon which the castle was built. I passed a graveyard and every single grave had fresh flowers on it. Moving on, the trail descended further as it curved around the hill. A short way across the valley, the cow bells were in full swing. They were incredibly loud -- I could have sworn someone had stashed an amplifier in one of the barns. They dinged and donged randomly, continuously, but they didn't sound anything like the church bells of Geneva.
The path was carved into the hillside through a thin forest -- probably not the safest place to be in the gathering darkness. I was alone, but I felt safe. What could possibly go wrong in the picture-postcard-perfect world of countryside Switzerland? Of course, I was carrying about $4000 worth of computer and photo equipment on my back.
I stopped briefly back in the old town of Gruyeres to buy some water and souvenir cheese. I was sweating profusely from the climb back up the hill to the castle. The drive back to Geneva took less than an hour on the freeway. Now, back in my hotel, watching Conan O'Brian on CNBC, I'm pondering what to do tomorrow.
Originally I'd planned to make a run through Geneva's museums. The Red Cross museum is supposed to be really good, and the United Nations headquarters is right next door. I'd also like to find an art gallery with some good old paintings and check them out.
On the other hand, the Swiss countryside was great. I'd love to go back and explore the small towns and the green fields some more. I guess I'll just have to wake up tomorrow and see what happens.
By the way, I've never watched Conan O'Brian before, and you know, it's a pretty good show.