To Blog: Two Weekends, Too Swiss.

I apologize for the painful word play in the title of this post. I don't even know.

It's been a while since I last updated, and I have two weekend adventures to record. Last weekend was a lovely adventure in the Alps. Hans Peter, Elisabeth, and I drove up to a cabin owned by a family friend of theirs, and we stayed for two nights in an adorable Alpine village, hiking and exploring. The couple we stayed with, Claire and Michel, were very kind and welcoming. Claire is the kind of person who begins mothering you the moment you enter her adorable, wood stove warmed cabin. Both she and Michel were so kind. The first day we went on a trail called The Ibex Trail, which started by a huge dam (the biggest one in Switzerland, actually) and circled around a small mountain, summited the saddle between it and another, and took you back down around the other side, making a loop of twelve kilometers. According to the signs, there were breathtaking vistas of Mont Blanc and surrounding Alps, however, thick fog was our constant companion throughout the hike, and though we did manage to see some of the famous Ibex, the rugged peaks that carry as much history as snow were kept hidden from us. The weather only worsened as the hike went on, and snowed for the final few kilometers. The second day we spent exploring tiny Alpine villages, indulging the tourist franchise, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

Today we had a surprise picnic birthday party for Hans Peter. My host father turned, er, 40 again, and E made plans to have a traditional Swiss picnic in the mountains and roast sausages over a fire. So, joined by a friend of mine from school, our family drove up to a lovely place in the mountains that had a stunning view of the Alps, a place for a fire, and cows ranging around, their bells clanging cheerfully. I made several cow friends on this trip. One licked my hair, mistaking it for delicious food. I assured it this was a common mistake, and to not feel too bad. We ate sausage and bread and salads and chips and cake and torte and even roasted marshmallows. I must admit I felt a bit of American pride when my marshmallows turned out beautifully, while the Swiss continually dropped theirs in the coals or struggled to eat them. They were also the weirdest marshmallows I've ever seen, multicolored and twisted together. Luckily my many years of camping have trained me to take on any challenge, and my marshmallow roasting was nothing short of stellar, if I may say so. All in all a very pleasing day, and full of many laughs and smiles. I later found out that among those who attended the party was my school principle, and that I had engaged in a game of frisbee with him. My life is so weird.