All About Switzerland Trip
Thank God for squirrels and their many not-so-familiar cousins
. They helped me disguise near fatigue as I struggled to keep pace with elderly companions, who, much to my embarrassment, hopped, skipped and breezed up the ascent to the ruins of a church that overlooked the village of Andeer, about 90 minutes from Zurich by my car rental in Switzerland. I, for my part, distracted them with squeals and joyful exclamations at the so-called sightings. As you may have guessed, this fave me enough time to nurse a wounded self-esteem while the unsuspecting group scanned thickets, bushes and foliages for signs of rodent life. And as we resumed walking, led by a sprightly Scarlett Hampl from Switzerland Tourism, I rummaged through my mind trying to recall more names of animals and birds that one finds in the canton of Graubunden. Do I need to add that the motive considered a pleasant, afternoon mountain walk?
There was, however, no escaping mountains and strenuous exercise of my slothful limbs in Graubunden, the countrys biggest canton. Not even when I was the only one, out of a group of 10, to have opted for leisure programmed. And it took me just half a day to realize how different Swiss leisure is from my sensibilities. Droves of chubby-cheeked children greeted me with smile as I panted my way up a mountain trail. And the carnival of happy faces grew as I climbed further. Farmers, mountain walkers and church-going villagers blended in beautifully with the mellow, fluid charm of the Swiss countryside. Delicate purple, yellow and crimson blooms on grassy knolls swayed rhythmically to a flirtatious breeze while the dong of cowbells conveyed the prospect of witnessing every spectacle Id grow to associate with the glorious Swiss summer. If only I could experience all this without the hard work in demanded. But then there were squirrels and a sinful ham sandwich to make the going a bit easy.
Resting on boulders in a meadow with juicy slivers of ham and a gooey Mars bar to keep my mouth busy I took in an eyeful of the landscape wed driven into that morning. A bright yellow Post Bus had dropped us at the accommodation in Andeer. As I struggled, yet again, to read the hotel brochure in German, the friendly bespectacled manager pointed out at a couple of words I immediately deciphered. Karl Marx, I read. The German philosopher was among the first few patrons of this 180-year-old hotel. While no one could tell which room he lived in, I was happy that I had made a kind of Communist pilgrimage. Something that I could write back home to my Kolkata Comrades. And before I could succumb to the capital lure of hot batch, Scarlett whipped me into action. Only I bear to be caught dead in a bathtub on a sunny day? That too in Switzerland when the Alps looked as clear and close as the neighborhood bakery?
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