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Maya gets schuled. The first day…

Ali – It is ever true that first days are hard. But more precisely it’s the fear of what will happen on the first day… the neophyte mistakes, the embarrassing anxiety-induced akwardness, the exhausting effort to appear comfortable and confident while internally screaming ‘get me the hell out of here!’ The anticipation of this trying first day is always worse than the actual experience. No matter how many boogers are actually hanging out of your nose at the end of that first day you usually think, ‘Well that wasn’t so bad.’ 

Maya has been dreading the first day of Swiss school since we first gleefully broke the news that we were moving abroad for a year- and to be fair with good reason. Not only did this event promise to have all the terribleness of a new school, it had the bonus horribleness of all the terribleness occurring in a foreign language. Now despite this, Joe and I were fairly confident that we were making a solid parental choice in sending her to the local public school. I had done extensive research on school options in Zurich and the bulk of the opinions and data pointed us towards the financial and intellectual benefits of immersion in the local system. Not to say that we didn’t have our doubts and detractors. My query on this subject on englishforum.ch revealed that we were somewhere between mildly abusive and heroic on the parenting scale.

But nevertheless we abusively and bravely pushed forward and now the first school day was upon us. 

Monday morning brought us panic attacks over clothing choices and an imminent friendless existence. We had already navigated (by navigated I mean completely caved and thrown money at the problem) the panic attack over the embarrassing HIV conference freebie backpack that I had brought for Maya to take to school. But suddenly, with 30 minutes to go, she pulled herself out of the tween drama abyss, rallied her courage and headed out the door.

Now I should note that the Swiss generally foster independence in their school age kids by having them make their own way to school. We didn’t want to be the helicopter parent foreigners so we watched her walk off for the 20 minute hike down the hill to Schule Letten. ….then we scrambled out the door and tailed her like private eyes on assignment. 

Fast forward and its 10 am. We could now come out of hiding in the bushes around the school and go to the parent orientation in the class. Now there’s two things I haven’t mentioned. 1) We are actually slightly less horrible parents than you think as we located ourselves in a school district that offered an ‘integration’ class or Aufnameklasse as they call it. This is a special class just for non-German speaking foreigners that provides a gentler introduction to the language and the culture. 2) Because the native languages spoken by students and parents can vary widely the whole parent orientation was in German. They assured us anything important would be repeated in English but apparently there was nothing really important because nothing was repeated in English. Despite that I think the parents: an Australian mother, a French father, a Thai couple and us, seemed to get most of the info that Frau Müller and Frau Diener threw at us, mostly because they are the most excellent charades players I have ever seen and acted out most discussion points. They also had helpful informational documents clearly tailored to the German-illiterate and ignorant parental masses. 

Clearly integrating the parents was also a goal of the program as evidenced by the helpful female adult foreigners integration offerings (with childcare!).As you might expect, the shared tribulations brought rapid bonding to both kid and parent groups. We headed home after orientation and Maya joined us at home for lunch at 12:15ish. The kids get a generous 1 hour 45 minute lunch because Swiss kids typically go back home at lunch time. Maya ran the 10 blocks up hill to our apartment to maximize her lunch time, affirming our belief that her fitness level will dramatically improve along with her German skills over the course of the year. The morning report was good: teachers nice, friendships budding. Fast forward to 3 pm. Joe met her at the end of her first school day with the traditional Swiss horn O candy and the report 

was even better: geography was fun and gym rocked because they didn’t have to wear shoes and got to hit each other with a giant carrot. The best for us was the German language homework and the German language packed schedule. Now if she just becomes best buds with the French or Thai kid we could get two foreign languages for the price of one. Keep your fingers crossed!


Ebenalp. Hin und Zurück.


Joe: With trekking poles in hand, and having warmed up on a pretty easy loop round the Riesen Riesen (See Ali’s previous post), the family set out to summit our first big mountain without the help of a gondola, cog train or mountain goat. The excursion Ali had planned for us included a steep hike up to a mountain lake (Seealpsee), a relatively liesurely hike around said mountain lake, a steep hike up to the summit of Ebenalp  (with a rest stop at a curious cliffside Gasthaus, followed, finally, by a civilized tram ride down to the base of the mountain at Wasserauen.  The day before, Ali and Maya had discussed their preferences for routes, with Ali preferring the route just summarized (plan A, hiking up), and Maya preferring to ascend by arial tram, and then descend by foot (plan B, hiking down). I jokingly mentioned that we could please both of them by hiking up and down (plan C, the non-starter). Ali won this one, so we went with plan A, or so we assumed…

After an early start, a Bütterhalbmondfettmacher breakfast on the train, and a transfer from the high-speed “tilt train” to the low speed local train (slow, but lovely, I should add, despite being designed to strictly conform to the Swiss preference to avoid drafts (that is, absolutely no air circulation, and likely low O2 levels, just to be on the safe side)) we found ourselves in a train packed with trekking poles and their owners, most of whom looked far more experienced than us. Exhibit A for more experience: The two women occupying the seats in front of us merily mowing through a bottle of bubbly at 8am…carbonated wine in a low oxygen environment on the way to a seriously steep hike? They must be experts. 

After arriving at the last stop, we followed the more experienced across the street, over the mountain stream, and to the tram house, in search of the trail head.  It seems we were about the only ones looking for a trail. Just about everybody else headed straight for the line for the tram. 

But not us…we headed around the tram house, still looking for the trail head. Fortunately, we were quickly reoriented by a friendly old man who took time from his espresso to inform us that the trail head was down the road a spell (Spoiler: Actually, the trail we wanted  was up the road a spell). 

We soon found the (a) trail, and started up, trekking poles at the ready. Fifty meters later, we are 30 meters above the valley and noticing the “trail”, which started out well troden, was now less of a trail and more of a hillside cowpath. 

Maya convinced us to turn around and we soon realized that we had indeed missed a very hard to miss turn. Not 50 meters in, and already lost…

Though the trek up from there was steep, it was nevertheless uneventful. Maya decided that trekking poles are not for her, but Ali and I will never again hike without them. They help.

After climbing steeply, the trail opened into a beautiful Alpine cow pasture, passed the cows themselves, then turned steeply up again.Truly beautiful. 

But wait. Wasn’t there supposed to be an Alpine lake? Alpine cows are descriptively named and all, but we were promised a descriptively named lake. “This is not the trail you are looking for”, mooed the cow, ding-donging it’s cowbell hypnotically.

Soon after leaving the cow pasture, and before tackling the next steep, we took advantage of some shade and stopped for lunch next to a kit of young men hiking in Kilts and smoking pipes.

We eventually found the trail we were supposed to be on, because it merged with our trail at the bar-on-a-cliff. 


After securing a sunny spot (that’s a bad thing)  at the Gasthaus, we had two beers, an apple Schorle, and a decision to make. Continue to continue up towards the summit/arial tram, or hike down on the right path? There must have been something in that apple Schorle, because we convinced ourselves it would be better to just finish off with the uphill slog. And boy are we glad we did.
Because just up and around the bend from the cliffhanger Gasthaus was a church housed in the famous Wildkirchli caves! 

Well, a teeny tiny church, anyway, steeple and all, with pews and an alter. Crazy, I know. A few meters further, and we were hiking through the main cave where apparently the hermits, Neanderthals and cave bears lived (not simultaneously I assume). The coolness of the trek through the cave was a welcome respite from the broiler pan that was the cliffside in front of the Gasthaus. A few meters further, and we were atop the Berg. As an aside, I should mention that the entire hike was mosquito free.  Bug free, in fact,  not counting the flies that pester the cows and their dung, and also not counting the paragliders, of which there were swarms. 

Ok. So we are at the summit. Maya, a trooper throughout, is just about at the end of her rope (a rope that we soon learned should be used to tether her to a parent). Now what? Are we done? There is still plenty of day left, and we didn’t get to hike the trail we came to hike. What about the descriptively named alpine lake, Seealpsee? It took a bit of convincing, but we “decided” that hiking down would be the best thing to do, delightfully civilized arial tram be damned. So while being strafed by just- launched paragliders, we turned tail and headed back down, back through the cave, past the church-in-a-cave and the bar-on-a-cliff, and yes, past the sign pleasantly advising parents that now may be a good time to tether the little ones. (The sign advising downward-bound hikers to not look left was apparently missing.) I looked to my left a few times, then leaned right for most of the way down. This trail, like the Gasthaus and the church, was cliffside. And steep.  Zoiks.  Families with small children. Older folks. Pets! All are happily ascending and descending just inches – no centimeters, sorry – from a perilous drop off. Eventually, we leveled off, just prior to hitting Seealpsee.  The lake was indeed beautiful, though the secret is out, as the path around it was flush with fellow hikers. 

Ali and Maya spotted a great spot on the shore,  a rocky outcropping that very much reminded us of Quinnabaug in Canada, both being on the water and the product of glaciers.

After an unplanned dip in the lake followed by a bloodletting/toe stubbing by Maya, and a pantsless dip by Ali, we continued on our way.  

The remainder of the journey was on a paved yet at times very steep road (we had once again lost the trail). We were safely bottom bound. 
After a Biergarten stop to cool off and watch the paragliders land, we hopped our draft-free train back to town, feeling tired and very proud of ourselves.  And just a bit hypoxic. Please…somebody…open a window! 

Giant Forest and the Mountain Cart

Ali- I was purusing one of my favorite Swiss family outings blogs looking up a hike to Seealpsee (stay tuned for that adventure!) when I came across a post about Elm Riesenwald ‘theme’ trail. I was immediately intrigued by the theme of this 2.6 kilometer loop: a  rogue giant has left some mayhem and cozy domestic scenes in his wake. It helped that you got to take a gondola up to a ‘sportbahn’ and then ride ‘mountain carts’ down. Full disclaimer: we had no clue what either a sportbahn or a mountain cart was but both sounded not to be missed. So we set off early for the 2 hour trip to Elm, a beautiful ski and winter paradise area in eastern Switzerland.

After a train, a bus and a gondola we made it up to the sportbahn and found a kid’s paradise of activities, all perched on the edge of a cliff. We tried out the field of trampolines, the giant basket swing, the huge lawn bowling lane and the big buckey ball climbing structure

At last it was time to face the Giant Forest. It was clear from the entrance to this trail that all other hikes would, from now on, be dead to Maya. One month in and we had reached kid hiking nirvana

The very first Giant caused obstacle along our path was a ‘large versus small’ race course. Since Maya and I are now approximately the same size, Joe played the part of the large competitor in all races. Maya captured the finger-biting epic battle between Joe and myself.

See Epic Battle Here

Maya was anxious to see what could be more fun than watching her decrepit parents creak their way through a giant-inspired obstacle course and it turned out she reported that to be her favorite sight in the Riesenwald when we finished. Makes me think there might be a market for middle-aged parent olympics. But other cool things were the overturned house that the giant carelessly left along the trail complete with furniture luckily nailed down (now up) and the giant suspension bridge that prevented our clumsy giant from crushing the wee woodland creatures and plant life….  at least that was the best my German language skills could do with the sign translation explaining this suspended net.

Our hiking prowess was now such that we conquered the 2.6 kilometer hike without much whining or granola bar face stuffing and we headed back to the sportbahn trampoline park for a little flipping practice. Once we had made ourselves sufficiently ill we went to the mountain cart shack and rented 3 scooters for the return trip down the mountain. As much fun as we had already had, we really weren’t expecting a day topping experience but it turns out rocketing down a hiking trail in a go cart with uncertain braking power is about as fun as it gets. Note the guy behind the counter  didn’t even blink an eye when we put our 10 year old daughter in control of her own mountain cart with the vague instructions to gently squeeze both brake handles to avoid locking up a wheel and spinning off the edge of the cliff. Words can’t really describe the joy mingled with disbelief at our being allowed to ride these little cliff launchers down the mountain. This may have even topped the middle aged parent olympics. When we reached the bottom, we were rather devasted that the ride was over and consoled ourselves with hot soup and cold beer as we waiting for the bus back. Hard to imagine we are going to top that ride. Parasailing anyone???

The dreaded Swiss mail

Ali – There are many things I took for granted living in comfortable, familiar America, place of my birth. For example the state of cultural comfort is never given a second thought when we are immersed in the norms, familiar gestures and common neuroses of our own people. But moving to a new country is a trip down the cultural rabbit hole, and you get a table-side seat to the mad-hatter tea parties. Let’s consider greetings. Americans are huggers while Swiss are cheek kissers. Americans squirm awkwardly and uncomfortably when forced into the friendly cheek kiss, fumbling with the number of kisses expected and degree of lip-face contact as well as what to do with hands and body during this miserable ritual. The Swiss, on the other hand, look like constipated deer in the headlights when wrapped in a friendly embrace, equally unsure of hand position and requisite length of body contact. Luckily these cultural differences are explicit and easily navigated after the first encounter. But some cultural peculiarities are inexplicable and unexpected, sneaking up upon the unsuspecting foreigner with violent and uncomfortable force. Unfortunately most of these things are only learned through experience but I was fortunate enough to be pre-warned about one particular Swiss oddity: apparently a sure way to throw a Swiss person into a tizzy is to open a window to let in a little cross breeze. Eh?!?! What? Cross breeze?? Surely you jest!!! Turns out this behavior is well documented if you do a google search:

Now having had both brother Ed and sister Paula spend time abroad and regale me with stories of cultural clashes, I was actually prepared for this state of cultural disequilibrium. What I hadn’t considered was how much I took literacy for granted. Yea. The simple ability to read. I am reduced to the reading level of a 3-4 year old, totally able to handle sentences like ‘see Spot run’ but quite at a loss to make out the standard fare that comes to us via the Swiss Postal Service. We get letters from the bank, the university, the city of Zurich, fliers, catalogs, all manner of documents that I can’t read. Now google translate is truly a wonder and most of the time gets you close but it’s a laborious process to type all that in just to find out the deal of the day at the local Bau und Garten store. The other day I got my University of Zurich ID card and spent 30 minutes translating the accompanying letter about using my card:

Feeling pretty self satisfied at conquering this translation task, I happened to flip the letter over to find the English version mocking my illiterate lameness:

The other problem is google translate doesn’t always get it right. I think the German language proclivity for amalgamating words to form a new, better and only tangentially related word really gives the Google translate programmers headaches. Here is a fine example from a letter I received today. My German has gotten good enough to allow me to determine that I was to present myself to the Zurich authorities within 14 days and bring with me the letter (shown below), my Swiss ID, my passport and some 4th item that I didn’t know. 

So no problem, just flip that big word in Google translate and I’m all set. Yup. Totally clear. 

At the Farm

Maya and I just did some pick your own berry picking this morning – blueberries and blackberries at Jucker Farm outside Zurich.

In stark contrast to yesterday’s weather,  it was cool, cloudy, and a bit rainy, so we were the only ones picking. There was a group of small children making use of the fire-your-own wurst concession, which was pretty darned cute. Might I add, also, that there is no way a group of four-year old kids in US daycare would be allowed anywhere near pointy sticks or a large fire pit, nevermind the two in combination.

There were also a few people in the farm restaurant, where we stopped for a delicious farm-fresh lunch. Oh, and dessert too. Ahhh, Switzerland. 

The Rhein, Rheinfall and Rhinitis

Ali – Our Saturday tradition (all of 4 weeks old) is to go for a hike. So, drawing again from the 32 most enjoyable Swiss hikes, we headed to a 14 km hike that took us past the Rheinfall. We picked this hike because it was only an hour away, the Rheinfall was on our hit list, and lastly but most importantly, the trail was flat and doable for our out-of-shape American bodies. The hike began in Schaffhausen, which boasts an imposing 16th century fortress (Munot Fortress) that I dragged the family up many flights of stairs to see. Just as Maya was complaining about having to see a dumb fortress and why couldn’t we just go to the hike, we reached the moat, which was occupied by what I assumed must be highly trained attack deer guarding the fortress. I think the moat standard is water plus maybe a man-eating crocodile but the wily Swiss apparently go with innocent-looking deer. I assume they got the idea from Monty Python and the Holy Grail Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.

After the Fortress we started on our hike following the Rhein. The hike meandered through some vineyards and thorny blackberry bushes, on which we left skin and blood in exchange for delicious blackberries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After an hour or so we reached the Rheinfall, purportedly Europe’s largest waterfall. We also seemed to reach half of Europe’s current tourist population. We jostled around a thicket of tourist humanity to view the falls, which were impressive but I think objectively less awe-inspiring than Niagra. However one can take a boat to a large rock outcropping in the middle of the falls and stand with a subgroup of humanity above the falls getting modestly drenched waiting for the next boat. We opted not to do that.

 


I took advantage of the sudden wealth of bathrooms to take a pit stop and was greeted with my favorite Swiss sign aimed at tourists. You might look at the picture and be tempted to say this is aimed at third-world visitors who are unaccustomed to the luxury of toilets but note the sign is written in English….here’s looking at you Americans.

After the Rheinfall, the wanderweg (hiking trail) hugged the Rhein and continued downriver. Maya and I noted quite a few flights of steps leading into the river and, after seeing a swimsuit-clad couple climb in, promptly stripped down to bathing suits (which we have learned are essential items to carry to every destination) and dove in. The swift current carried us downstream faster than Joe, hauling everyone’s gear while filming us, could walk. We climbed out at the next Schwimmbad (of course there would be a schwimmbad within 100 feet of us because schwimmbadi are as common here as Royal Farms in Baltimore) and recommenced our hike, which was about 2/3 over.


The last segment wound through the woods above the river and Maya got great rock-throwing practice and trail-sprinting practice. I got to bust out my new trekking poles, which Maya said made me look 90 years old and she proceeded to call me ‘grandma’ for a while. At last we reached Rheinau where we found a monastery and guys carrying large horns. The wanderweg conveniently ends at a restaurant that specializes in ice cream and sits 1 minute walk from our bus back to the train station.



We had totaled 32,000 steps for the day and around 13 miles when we ended our trip back in Zurich, all feeling like that was about our American endurance limit.  While you may be tempted to think that all this fresh air and hiking is good for our health, I should note that the Abrahams are actually apparently slightly allergic to fresh air and exercise. Joe has developed his first ever bout of seasonal hay fever and is covered with a roving rash that pops up on random body parts. Maya has a nice European cold, which means every sneeze sounds like a phrase in German. I have developed my first ever eye sty, despite being a veteran contact wearer who should be immune to any known germ after years of cleaning my contacts with saliva (yeah, gross, but occasionally necessary). So it’s not all glaciers and pastries here in Switzerland.

Dragons, Pontiffs and Pilatus

Ali –Pilatus Kulm sits 7000 feet above Luzern and takes the self-described slow Swiss hiker 5 hours to ascend (bear in mind that the Swiss also will tell you they know only a little English and then proceed to conjugate a rare English verb). We opted for the less exhausting Golden Round Trip, which starts in Luzern on a boat to Alpnachstad, ascends the mountain in the world’s steepest cogwheel railway, then descends on the other side first in a aerial cableway and then in a gondola (the difference between the two being only in the size of the sardine can you are stuffed into).

Now according to legend, Pilatus is the home of both a dragon with healing powers and also the soul of Roman Prefect, Pontius Pilate, who apparently is super cranky when disturbed.

Since we opted for the tourist experience rather than the Swiss 5 hour ascent on a holiday weekend no less, we were not exactly alone on this journey. So on the boat ride over we strategized on how to avoid the massive line at the cog train. Joe and I each covered an exit on the boat as we approached Luzern. My door was the lucky winner and, as soon as the gang plank was in place, I elbowed a couple children and a Japanese tour group aside to make a mad dash for the cog train line. Those small children I trampled will eventually forget their trauma but I will never forget getting the last seats on this wild 48% vertical climb.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once we got to the top, which has two completely unaffordable hotels, a couple short hikes to panoramic outlooks and the requisite souvenir shop, it became fairly easy to believe that both dragons and Pontiff souls might make this a summer residence.


Unfortunately, either we disturbed cranky Pilatus or Joe is allergic to dragons (which I think are distantly related to cats) as he began suffering the first of two epic allergy episodes. I captured the between episode facial swelling.

After a climb through the dragon cave, which was woefully short of dragons and way too populated with tourists and what looked like mountain rabbit poop, we headed to the “dragon ride” aka aerial tram.
The tram let off at Fräkmütegg, a mere 4700 feet up, where you can partake in Switzerland’s longest metal toboggan run and the Pilatus rope park. We, of course, had to do both. I regret to inform you no pictures were taken of either as phone/cameras were not allowed on the toboggan (something about needing your hands for braking which is pure rubbish because why would you brake??) and phones/cameras were not so practical to be holding while clinging to a safety line 40 feet off the ground while distracted by someone crying and praying behind you – feel free to guess whether it was Joe or Maya or both. Of the two, the rope course was the better buy as the toboggan queuing system was clearly designed by Italians or Greeks or Disneyland and not the Swiss. The inefficiency was a big buzz kill and we abandoned the extra 5 rides we had purchased, as none of us could stomach waiting in the line again.

When the ropes course closed at 5 pm we headed to another long line for the gondola down. True to our now 3 week Swiss experience, we met a family of Americans and a lovely guy from Geneva in the line. The Geneva guy told us about a vertical glass lift on the side of another mountain (sounded like he said Mt Birkenstock) that was Hugh Heffner old and still…errrr…lifting despite. So clearly that’s on our list of must-dos. The American family from DC was on a European tour and Maya joined them for the gondola ride down. By the time we made bottom, we heard she had told them her life story, discussed the joys and heartaches of international travel and debated the merits of foreign language acquisition. Yup. Politician or lawyer? What do you think?