If you're in the mood for a good read of travel tales, check out my colleague, Jules Older's e-book, Death by Tartar Sauce. It's available on every e-platform: Kindle, Nook, iTunes, et al. Here's one of the chapters. Happy reading.
Loser in Leukerbad
Some people travel so easily. They walk lightly on the earth. They exude peace and harmony. They hold onto their belongings.
I envy these people. I'm the traveler who loses his wallet, loses his guide, loses his way. I'm a loser.
Take my trip to
Switzerland. As I board the United flight in
San Francisco Airport, I suddenly realize I’ve left my shirt in Security. The flight attendant warns: “Not sure you can make it. Security’s a long way, and we depart in 15 minutes… with or without you.”
“I'm a runner,” I lie. And off I run. Fourteen minutes, 30 seconds later I'm back, gasping for breath but shirt in hand.
Then, in
Chicago, as I board the airport train, I drop the backpack containing cell phone, camera and camcorder on the platform. A Black women’s quartet spots the disaster-in-the-making, directs me to the pack and holds up the train while I dive for my invaluables. Then, they serenade me with a sweet rendition of
Just a Closer Walk with Thee.
I have always relied on the kindness of angels.
When I reach
Switzerland, I make my way south on the country’s famously punctual trains. The scenery is pleasant and green, but I've come for the snow. And from Zürich to Vitz, there isn't any.
Just when I'm losing hope, snowy mountains appear. Two trains and a bus later — all on time to the minute — I’m in snowy Leukerbad munching on apple strudel and enjoying it so much that I leave my parka on the back of the chair.
Leukerbad — it’s the Brigadoon of Switzerland. The bus climbs, the road winds, and when the road ends, an impossibly perfect Alpine village suddenly appears: ancient wooden barns, crookedly narrow streets, echoing church bells.
And that’s not all. Leukerbad is surrounded by craggy, snowy peaks so close, so awesome, they lure the eyes to the sky.
Leukerbad combines two Swiss traditions: snow tourism and health curism. Since 1501, it’s been a destination for ailing Europeans taking the waters. Indeed, Leukerbad is full of waters. Sixty-five thermal springs feed thirty pools: hot pools, warm pools, cool pools and freezing-cold pools. This town of 1,500 may have the highest pool-to-person ratio in
Europe. Roughly half the visitors come for the restorative aquatic experience.
The other half comes for the snow. The tram to the snowfields leaves right from town and exits onto miles of wide-open skiing. It’s not Vail, but there's enough variety to keep most skiers more than satisfied.
For lunch, I try the onslope Restaurant Briand, which serves excellent schnitzel and delicious Swiss wine.
The Swiss make wine? Indeed, they do, and in great variety. The reason nobody’s heard of it is that 97 percent is consumed in-country.
The next day, after I've recovered the fanny pack I left at breakfast, I intend to ski again, but a blizzard at the top has closed the lifts. So I go snowshoeing instead.
The snowshoe experience is lovely and silent…except, what's that roar? A plane? A turbine? No — an avalanche!
It’s one of the most chilling sounds I've ever heard. Loud enough to rattle windows, long enough to make me consider my mortality.
And there's an intrusive thought: This town has been wiped out by avalanche before. No, wait — the last time was January 17, 1719. Guess I'm reasonably safe, after all.
After the hike, my fellow snowshoers and I head for Leukerbad’s modern ice rink for a quick hot chocolate and a long, competitive game of a sport I've made fun of my entire adult life.
Now, I'd like to apologize. Curling is not the incredibly lame, totally unathletic, funny-hat-on-the-head faux-sport involving brooms I took it for. There's considerable skill involved. Even that crazy brooming is kinda fun. Think bowling on ice. Picture croquet with a forty-pound rock.
But that night, I join a Leukerbad activity that makes curling look normal. It’s called “Kino im Pool.” I have no clue what that means.
I do as I'm told: Don a swimsuit and head down to the big indoor/outdoor pool at the Alpentherme. As we relax in the warm waters, the lights dim, and a large screen fills with... James Bond. Yes, it’s Quantum of Solace. I've been to drive-in movies; this is my first swim-in movie.
So what do we have here? A perfect Swiss mountain village that lives on water. Some is in the form of snow; some as ice, and the rest in healing pools. How sweet it is.
And here's an inside tip. At the many-pooled Burgerbad, a.k.a. City Bath, swimsuits are required. At the tasteful Walliser Saunadorf, a.k.a.
Sauna Village, swimsuits are
verboten. Not discouraged —
verboten. Unless you enjoy a stern lecture in Swiss-German in front of a lot of naked people, don’t bring your swimsuit.
Wasn't a problem for me — I'd lost my mine two days before.
