Ali- Uncle Eddie, Aunt Beth and Cousin Jack came to visit us on Friday. Kinder people would have given them a day to get over the jet lag but we decided to drag them on Saturday to Zermatt because…well…it wasn’t really about them. We still hadn’t made it to Zermatt and they were our excuse to finally go.
Saturday morning we cruelly dragged them out of bed, poured coffee into them to counter the benedryl/melatonin hangover and herded them to the Hauptbahnhof to make our 8am train. 
Then we sat on our butts for 3.5 hours until we reached Zermatt. Our vague plan was based on a random website click where an activity called ‘dirt scootering‘ was offered. You can check it out here to see why I was intrigued.
When we arrived, Joe marched us through the cute and carless (that’s right! Only solar-charged electric cars allowed in the streets!!) town of Zermatt to our hotel
– the Jagerhof – where we dropped bags and then headed to the Matterhorn glacier paradise valley station, which was supposedly where we ‘collect’ these magical dirt scooters. But first, hunger won out over dirt scooter excitement (never face danger on an empty stomach!….or without first having a beer…) and we plunked down at a restaurant terrace with the Matterhorn staring us in the face. 
I mention this stop only because Joe had an unfortunate spastic arm gesticulation here, which occurred right as the waitress was bringing all our beers. I didn’t capture the destruction in a photo but it was an impressive display of Swiss reserve, as the beer drenched server refrained from telling the loud American spaz where he could shove his beer. Joe, on the other hand, got to practice grovelling in German, which could come in handy again at some point.
We overpaid our bill and slunk out of the restaurant to the dirt scooter rental place where we grabbed 5 scooters on steroids (Aunt Beth opted to hike….something about liking her current front teeth alignment).
We took our dirt scooters over to the cable car station and the staff loaded them in and sent us up to the base of the Matterhorn.
Once at the top we paused to take in the scenery and get some family photos at the base of the Toblerone Mountain- would you believe it’s not made of chocolate???? 
Then, with a bit of trepidation, we launched our high-center-of-gravity scooters down the mountain biking trail. 
For those who aren’t mountain bikers, there is a reason why mountain bikes come with shocks. Our dirt scooters didn’t come with shocks. We came with varying degrees of knee joint health and attempted to absorb the jolts as we launched over rocks in the path. There was also the very real possibility of locking up the breaks and over-ending, to be followed by high speed sliding down the trail with the scooter riding you. 
After about an hour of harrowing rocky trail, we took a break at a mountain stübli for refreshments and cow watching- the primary local entertainment. 
At last we rolled back into the rental place and congratulated ourselves on survival. We celebrated with beer and ice cream and more Matterhorn viewing.
Then we checked into our hotel and you are never going to guess what we did. Yea! Shirtless Matterhorn viewing from the balcony!
Along with the 83 photos of the Matterhorn, we did also take a few photos of ourselves…..with the Matterhorn in the background of course.
Well all good accident insurance- requiring activities must come to an end and the next morning we said goodbye to Zermatt. I had gotten a tip that Jodlerfest – the annual celebration of yodeling, alpenhorning and all other highly Swiss activities – was nearby in Brig. Our Swiss friend, Manuela, grew up in Valais and still had a hundred Swiss cousins in the area and was going to meet us there.
It was clear something unique was going on from the train ride to Brig. While it’s not totally unheard of to see some traditional flavor on the train, large numbers of folk on the train were uber-Swissed out and getting their drink on. 
Once in Brig we wandered around following the sounds of yodeling. What we learned is that yodeling is a skill born of hard training and alcohol. The yodeling clubs would huddle in circles while singing, the close configuration helping to support those too drunk to stand by themselves. 
I was on a quest for alpenhorn, as it’s about the coolest sound I have ever heard ….well aside from the sweet sweet sound of my husband saying,”You’re right dear!” Manuela led us to a nice beer stand 
next to a traditional clothing vendor and two alpenhorns parked at a tree. While Joe and Maya invested in Swiss traditional farmer shirts
, Manuela sweet talked the alpenhorners …errr….alpenhorn blowhards? alpentooters?….. in the local dialect and got them to put on a private concert for us. 
After that our alpen lives were complete. We headed to the train, passing by the parade which featured Swiss flag throwing and men with chainsaws cutting wood on floats. 
But even the Swiss climber ascending a fake mountain mounted on a tractor couldn’t beat the alpenhorns.