It was strange enough staying in a hotel that wasn’t a hotel
but now I didn’t know if I was up to finding a ferry terminal that wasn’t on
the map. Actually it was no bother at
all. As directed, I drove along the side
of the lake and came to a small village that seemed to have evolved around the
ferry terminal. I could see that we had
three or four hours to wait for the next ferry so adjourned to the café that sat
next to the ferry terminal. It was one
of those picture postcard Swiss buildings, with the wide sloping roof,
balconies and another notch on my something I had always wanted to do or visit
list.
It was a strange building, seemed as if it were some sort of
civic centre, but by following signs we ended up in a small bar. Again I was in my element as it was full of
carved wood and stuffed animal heads, which to me said Alpine. We settled in and scoured the menu. As usual I was adamant that I was eating
local while the other three opted for the safer omelette and chips and sausage
and chips. I ordered a local veal dish
and began to prepare myself by drinking some of the local beer.
My three compadres were served their meal first and I scavenged
chip after chip from them as I was quite hungry. Eventually the waitress came to our table
pushing a serving trolley with a massive metal dome. She opened the dome and served me a huge lump
of veal in the most luxurious creamy mushroom sauce. Everyone tasted it and agreed it was superb
and I can honestly say it was fantastic.
Had I been at home I would have cleaned the plate with a slice of
bread. Satisfied and full to the gunnels
we sat up as the waitress approached our table for what we thought would be the
settling of the bill. Instead she opened
up the large metal domed server and produced a similar meal stating, “Here is
the other half sir.”
Everyone was full but we soldiered on and made sure that we cleaned
the plate. It was a grand way to pass
the time and we rumbled off to the Beetle to prepare for the ferry. It was one of those open jobs, held about ten
or twelve vehicles and very, very, pleasant, I only wish I had a better camera because
sailing across a lake in Switzerland watching the mountains glide past is
magical. Back on the other side we set
off still heading south for Lugano and then Milan. I came across a hotel, the Hotel Des Alpes. As my map was not very useful for showing villages,
or even roads for that matter, we decided that it looked a safe option.
We managed to book two double rooms one with a bath and one
with a shower. The girls decided to make
good use of the bath while Chidge and myself repaired to the bar. There was some sort of football match on so
Chidge and I sat at the bar and ordered two beers. The barman produced two small bottles of beer
with glasses and we enquired if he didn’t have any man sized beers. There was a little language barrier but nothing
we couldn’t get around. He explained
that he did have big bottles of beer but they were very, very, strong, most people
could not drink any more than two.
Well; we were able to recognise a challenge, even when one hadn’t
been offered. Chidge and I set about
wrecking the myth surrounding these large bottles of beer and, probably through
politeness, had to wait until the following morning before asking how many we
had actually consumed. Breakfast was
another spread of cooked meats and fresh bread with coffee and I shall not name
the person who was asking, ‘Where’s the Alpine?’ (a breakfast cereal in the UK.) They say ‘You can take the girl out of
Liverpool, but you can’t….’
By now we were deep in the mountains and I was loving every
moment of it. I remember we began to
climb up the side of a mountain. The
road zig zagged quite tightly, the bends were ridiculous. There was a sort of tapping noise coming from
one of the rear wheels but even after a couple of visual inspections we couldn’t
see anything wrong with the wheel, so continued. It actually was a hair raising experience and
I didn’t use the mountain rescue method of travelling along narrow mountain roads,
which was foot to the floor, but carefully chugged our way to the top of the mountain.
We were surprised to get to the top and see snow, so we did
as any young people do when finding a snow field in June, we had a snowball
fight. Back in the car we trundled along
to find a barrier stretched across the road guarded by two armed soldiers. Strange, we thought, and were then informed that
there had been an avalanche further along the road, which was now blocked, and
we would have to go back down the mountain.
There had been no turn offs along the way or any other road joining the
one we had travelled along so I wondered why they hadn’t put the barrier at the
bottom of the mountain and save people the trouble of having to go back. I thought the Swiss were supposed to be
efficient.
With no option we headed back down, with the wheel clunking even
more, but as we couldn’t see anything wrong we ignored it. It really only clunked on the turns. The soldiers had said something about getting
the train at the bottom which was the most ridiculous thing I had ever
heard. I mean we were in a car. However we followed the signs and sure enough
came to a train siding where we queued up.
It would have been nice if there had been some information or some person
to explain what was about to happen but no.
The queue eventually moved forward, on to the train and we parked up, on
open carriages. I say open but there was
a sort of metal frame around them holding a roof.
Next thing you know is that we set off and travelled through
the mountain. By the way, car radios don’t
work very well inside mountains so next time you are travelling through a mountain,
in a car, on a train, make sure you have a cassette or a cd player. Look at me, giving out even more advice,
where will it all end? It was a good experience
and slightly claustrophobic but once we hit daylight it was obvious that we
were on the Italian side of the Alps. Switzerland
was precision perfect while the closer we got to Italy the more dusty, and
dirty, and ramshackle the buildings became.
Milan was about eighty miles away; I pointed the car south, stepped on
the accelerator and hoped it was ready for me.
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