A few views from Switzerland and England

A view from the balcony of my parents’ chalet in the small village of Le Vaud in the Jura Mountains. The Alps rise to the south, across the Lake of Geneva. The top of the highest peak in Europe can be seen just piercing the cloud cover.

Late at night on the main street through the center of that cozy Swiss village, not even the proverbial mouse is stirring.

A Swiss trademark--splashes of floral colors--typically decorate many of the homes in towns and villages across the country.

Heng purchasing a cold drink from a vending machine that was towed and dropped off at a scenic hilltop overview near Neuchatel. Solar panels provide power for the operation and refrigeration of this isolated unit.

The purchase of food items for sale can be made either with cash or a cell phone. Any problems arising with the operation of the unit will be immediately communicated to headquarters and the nearest technician alerted to undertake the necessary repairs.

We took a two-day diversion into the Alps in central Switzerland, driving up the valley to Lauterbrunnen.

One day, from deep in the valley, we took a cable car up the Schilthorn and walked several hours around the mountainside, across from the imposing triad of peaks: the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau. The Schilthorn and its observation platform are probably best known for serving as a shooting location for the wintry scenes in James Bond’s movie "On Her Majesty's Secret Service".

On the other day, we took the train up out of the valley and eventually into a tunnel drilled through the Eiger and Mönch. From the upper terminus, we had an excellent view south onto the Aletch Glacier in the middle of the Alps. The two-hour train ride to the top cost $125 per person. (Dollars don’t go far in Europe.)

The scenic lookout at the end of the rail line permitted a view on the ice fields around the mountain tops. As was the case during our walks on the glaciers in Alaska half a year earlier, I once again lost my sense of perspective. The silhouette of a man walking along the edge of a crevice in the snow first got my attention.

But then panning to the left and seeing the row of “ants” walking single file through the snow, I realized that these were the real people. Suddenly I realized that distances were much more than they first appeared. What appeared to have been a man walking along a crevice was simply a play of shadows around the crevice.

On 9/11, after a week in Switzerland, we headed off to England. We spent a couple nights in London and spent the day walking around town. We also took a “spin” on the “Eye”, an immense Ferris wheel towering 450 feet above the Thames River.

Mounted around the rim were 32 glass-enclosed, air-conditioned pods that could each accommodate two dozen people. The pods “spin” around on the Eye at the rate of two revolutions per hour, i.e., each ride lasts half an hour.

From the Eye, one can see up to 40 kilometers, weather permitting. We went up later in the afternoon on a somewhat hazy day. But one couldn’t miss Big Ben and Palace of Westminster (upper left photo) and activities along the Thames (upper right photo).

We then meandered toward the center of town, stopping by Buckingham Palace on the way over.

Heading west from London the next day, we unexpectedly skirted Stongehenge. Naturally, we had to stop to see this impressive structure. As can be seen from the photo, one loses sight of all the tourists, as they are restricted to walking around the periphery rather than within the structure.

Driving further west, we arrived at Land’s End, the westernmost point of England, in the county of Cornwall. The area was treeless and somewhat stark but alluring. Mines for the extraction of tin and other minerals, no longer operating, dot the barren countryside. Otherwise the land is a patchwork of pastures surrounded by stone walls that, at times, block off the views of the surrounding land and the blue seas nearby.

Alluring, but the same cannot be said about the country lanes we followed. I dreaded getting up each morning, picturing the drive that was in store for us that day. The roads were definitely scenic but narrow---barely sufficient for two small British cars to cross---and they were immediately bracketed by a grass/brush-covered stone wall on each side (i.e., no provision was made for shoulders along the road). Seeing busses unhesitatingly cross with oncoming cars along these country lanes gave me a newfound respect for the abilities of bus drivers. As for me, I continuously prayed that no oncoming cars would emerge from around the next bend. But if there were, I would simply slow down to a crawl, nudge to the left (we were in England) as I neared the point of conjunction, and bury my head in the sand for a few moments, until we had safely passed. I am glad to report that we successfully confronted our trials and that, at the end of our week there, the car was returned to the car rental agency scratch-free.

My experiences were not unique. A friend and former colleague who had lived a few years in England confirmed my observation. “I had a horrible time driving in the rural areas and cities. Sometimes I went to the supermarket only to drive away without stopping because the spaces were so narrow and I had a Volvo. I routinely bashed the wing mirror and hubcaps on the country lanes—hitting the curb (there's no shoulder) and people's mail boxes, which were inches from the edge of the lane. Really harrowing, and I never even tried to get my UK driver's license.” She also “never understood which way to signal when entering and exiting a roundabout” but that is a story for another time.