The first train out was a 6.04, and got us to Luzern some time around 7.30, I don’t remember. We checked in at our hostel (a bus-ride from the city center) and left our luggage in their lockers.
We walked most of the way into town, rode a bus for a few blocks, and then went south to get coffee at a non-tourist place the woman at the desk had recommended. She originally pointed out Starbucks, but said it was expensive, and noted our scandalized Seattleite faces. There was road construction, but Café Salü finally appeared. We ordered two cappuccinos, but they didn’t take cards or Euros, so I was a little bit worried until we finally convinced them to take 3 Euros for the 4 CHF coffee.
The cappuccinos were served in mugs, with a dusting of cocoa as a sort of decoration on the saucer. I never order cappuccinos at home, so I’m not sure what’s standard, but these were thick, bitter coffee under milk foam about three inches thick, with cocoa powder on top. The ideal sip had cocoa-covered foam and a touch of the coffee in it, but this was a lot of multitasking for a coffee novice. Once I’d about gotten the hang of tasting it all, rather than just tasteless foam or too-bitter coffee, it was excellent. I really wanted a photo of it, but didn’t feel comfortable breaking out my camera among all those non-tourists.
We walked from there in the direction of the old town, stopping at a Geldautomat (I believe you can guess what that means). I thought 50 CHF for one day in town might be too much, until MG pointed out: Swiss chocolate. CHF, or Swiss Francs, were close to even with the dollar while we were there.
Our first stop was the Kappellbrücke (“Chapel Bridge”). It’s the bridge next to the Jesuit church, and had flowers all along the sides, and dates back to the 14th Century. Like practically all old bridges, it had a thatch-y roof covering it, and under that roof were triangle-shaped paintings. Those in the Kappellbrücke looked mostly like medieval war scenes, to me at least. Not necessarily fighting, but they seem to be full of knights and such. The tourist information says they are scenes from Swiss history. These were the original paintings dating back to the 17th Century, most of which were destroyed in a fire. The surviving paintings are there because the fire didn’t damage the two sections closest to the banks on either side, and because some paintings had been removed when the bridge was modified and shortened before the fire.
We walked across it, being snaphappy at every chance. The lake is full of swans, the waterfront has some nice restaurants, the Jesuit church is impressive, the mountains were so picturesque, etc. I took pictures of a number of the paintings.
From the far edge of the bridge, we walked along the expensive restaurants on the water’s edge, crossed at a newer bridge, took more photos of swans, and headed toward the Spreuer Brücke. (The name refers to the fact that this is the only place it was okay to dump chaff from wheat, spreu, into the river.) It was completed in 1408, making it the oldest covered bridge in Europe. It doesn’t quite run over the lake, but the river that comes out of the lake. The path we happened to take to it narrowed from a wide, comfortable sidewalk into a narrow sidewalk between a sheer, doorless building and a rushing river.
The triangle paintings in the Spreuer Brücke were put there between 1626 and 1635, and represent “The Dance of Death.” My pictures of those didn’t come out quite as well. In the middle of the bridge was a little room on one side with a statue of Mary, stained glass windows, and an extremely neglected-looking crucifix, covered in cobwebs and dead gnats.
I took a couple pictures of the supports of the bridge’s roof on one side; massive chunks of wood and ancient-looking metal.
Part of the river was dammed – two dams next to each other, one very old looking, one modern-looking. The spillway, for the old one, consisted of a bunch of boards, vertical like in a fence and shaped at the top like an expensive fence, not-quite-flush with the old-style paved ground. I don’t know exactly how that worked, and apparently I missed the sign that explained.
From there, we went shopping. (Yay.) We walked up a fairly wide cobblestone street, stopping at a department store called Coop. (I don’t know if it’s Coop as in chicken coop, co-op farming, something in German, something in Italian…) As Luzern is primarily a tourist town, it had an entire chocolate department, which was right by the door. Mary Grace spent 25 CHF on chocolate right there; I conservatively bought 3 bars and a box of Smarties and said I could come back if I wanted anything else. Other departments seemed similar to Macy’s – clothing, watches, jewelry, housewares. It also had a grocery store in the basement, a restaurant in the top floor, and random things such as a large yarn collection.
At this point, we’d been up for about 28 hours with a couple small naps. We ate a very light dinner at the train station in Frankfurt the night before, and had a small breakfast in Basel. I had had an orange and half a roll. Mary Grace was hungry, and I was starving. Logically, we kept shopping.
It was only about 9.00 in the morning, so most lunch places were closed anyway. We just made our way up that now narrow cobblestone street, passing many cute stores, and looking vaguely for food. We passed bakeries, but were sick of them, and nothing they had looked like food to us at that point. Finally, though, something captured our interests! Shirts for 5 CHF!
A purple one with orange flowers was tempting, but I don’t think it would have suited my figure. MG looked into the store, however, and things seemed to be of a price we could take. It all seemed very much like a US mall store – a little was Hot Topic-esque, most was more like Pac Sun. None of it, however, seemed as tired and overdone as the clothing in malls. I walked out with two sale tank tops (2 for 9,90 CHF), which were utterly excellent: a vibrant pink tank with a black bat, and a vibrant purple tank with a raccoon. I’m sure they were getting summer clothing out and fall in.
We stopped by a bookstore or two as well before we actually found food at a little place attached to a grocery store and K Kiosk (a convenience and souvenir store chain, which was everywhere). I had a very decent Schweinbratwurst (pork sausage) and “Country Cut” potatoes. I ordered in German, for the first time of the trip, and the freaking woman shorted me. I’m certain it was intentional. I’d only been working with Francs for three hours, so I didn’t question her immediately when my change looked a little odd, but a local should have easily seen the difference between a 1 CHF and a 2 CHF coin. The size difference was probably 150-200%. Yes, I’m still angry, but with language problems and the time elapsed between getting my incorrect change and the woman returned from whatever back corner of the store she’d run to when I turned my back, I wasn’t sure I could win back my Franc.
Like I said, the sausage was a very respectable representative of meat. The potatoes may have been the best mini-jojos I’ve ever eaten. This may have been the starvation talking, however. Mary Grace’s chicken and potatoes au gratin looked good as well. Kari’s right – European ketchup is different somehow. It was a little more sour, and a little less salty, and somehow managed to taste more sophisticated. I ate everything, even after I was full, because I was totally in “you may never eat again” mode.
We waddled out of there, and found ourselves close to the Lion. We decided it was must.
I’d seen photos online, and I actually wasn’t impressed with them. From my first glimpse of the monument, though, that changed.
We passed the last shop, and a small rock cliff came into view. Small for being in the country foothills, it seemed huge within a thoroughly civilized city. The monument was enclosed in a small ring of trees, separated from the city. The cliff face was met by a shallow pool, full of coins. The ground around the pool was paved with the ubiquitous rough stone cubes with small tufts of grass between them. People stepped up to the edge and turned around for their photo continually. MG and I did this too, of course, but I was unsure how much time other tourists spent looking at the lion versus looking away from the lion.
Mary Grace and I sat on the low wall that was edging the trees. We studied the lion, the tourists, and the rest of the cliff. I threw in a 5 Euro cent coin, and MG contributed an American penny. I got up at one point to study the coins. Most were Francs and Euros. A few were American. Most of the rest were unidentifiable, but some were clearly Asian.
I sat back down on the wall. Mary Grace had already told me the story of the lion; unimpressed by the photos online, I hadn’t bothered to look it up. The lion is for the Swiss guards who died protecting Louis XIV. The lion, laying in a cave carved into the cliff, is dying. He had a spear in his side, and clutches at a shield with a fleur de lis on it. Another shield, with the Swiss cross, leans against the cave, behind his head. His face, naturally, is a look of pain. I thought he looked deeply dismayed as well, both at dying and at losing the battle. Whatever the exact look was, it was deeply moving. We sat on the little wall holding in the trees, feeling wholly mournful for the lion, but more at peace than we’d been in a while.
Beautiful and soothing as it was, we hadn’t slept in about 31 hours. We got up, and just as swiftly as we went from town to grove, we were back in gray stone again.
We figured it had to be close to 2, our check-in time, but it was only 1 when we got there. Mary Grace sat down at the computer to use the internet, but, as a continuing theme, I didn’t have the right money. I had a 20 CHF bill, and some ½ F, 10 cent, 20 cent coins, but the computers only took 1, 2, and 5 CHF coins. I wasted half an hour with brochures, pacing, and sitting on a couch eating my chocolate. Finally, the desk opened at 1:30, and I was able to get change and check in early. I paid for 20 minutes at the computers, and managed to read my email, reply to Kari, and start to check out facebook. My facebook status ended up as something like “Kristin is in Switzyg,” because I just hit random keys at the very last second before I ran out.
We went upstairs, made out beds, and gave my phone just enough charge for it to wake us up after an hour nap. I read Dexter and ate Smarties while it was charging and MG was sleeping. The Smarties were amazing – a soft gummy fruity center, with a hard M&M-like shell on the outside.
Some time while we were sleeping, it started raining. It alternated between clear, drizzling, and pouring like crazy for the rest of the day. We went out anyway, but all the gray stone that looked charming in the sunlight looked incredibly depressing in the rain. The only store we really looked at was the same department store as before, where we both bought more chocolate. MG got cherry-chili Lindt for her mother, which I desperately wanted to try, but couldn’t talk myself into buying a whole bar of. [These are presents. I will insert the actual line after the presents are given. Finally, I decided I needed one more bar of chocolate just for myself, so I bought a Lindt cherry-liqueur. You can buy Lindt in Germany, so I really didn’t want to buy it for top secret present information again.
After chocolate, we browsed through hats. I rejected the alarm clocks, because we had phones, and the alarm clocks they had were expensive and bulky. I looked at watches, and finally selected the least expensive one. I looked at locks, to replace mine that got left in Munich, but as MG said, what all did we have to steal that we actually kept in our suitcases? Everything valuable was in purses and moneybelts. The locks were three times what I paid for mine in Shopko. But at least I now own a Swiss watch.
Mary Grace found dinner at a döner place, but I didn’t have enough Francs to afford anything other than the cheese and veggie sandwiches. We stopped by the Starbucks, hoping for maybe a tasty muffin and a fruit smoothie. The pastries were 3 CHF and up, and the drinks ranged from 7 to 9. As Seattleites, we were outraged. We culturally own Starbucks. It is ours, and we will not be overcharged more than we are accustomed to. We had thought the hotel clerk had called it expensive because, as a foreigner, she could not grasp the Starbucks way, but apparently she was completely right.
Finally, we just went to a bakery. Wieder. I got a sandwich, which was entirely delicious, the best thing I’d ever eaten, for the third time that day.
We got back to the hostel. We’d napped, but we were going on 40 hours without sleeping-sleeping, without REM and such. We’d made the mistake of going to bed too early in München and resetting our clocks to mid-Russia. We agreed we would go down to the lounge and socialize for a couple hours. First, however, MG wanted to shower and look around the hostel a bit, so I laid down to read Dexter while she did that. I found myself falling asleep, but MG had an alarm clock, so she would get me up.
Some time around 5.00, I woke up with my bedside light and my glasses on. I managed to take off my glasses before falling back asleep.
I really woke up at 7:10. Our train was leaving at 7:21. I woke up MG and undoubtedly our Canadian roommate, and we checked out immediately.
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