Liechtenstein – so viele Überraschungen

Joe requested a trip to Liechtenstein for his birthday, so off we went. Why? you ask. Warum nicht? is a better question! The country is only about 60 square miles in area, barely holds a spot on any map, and gets no love from the “Europe” travel book I own. Not even one page, or one paragraph on the corner of a page. The Union is probably bitter because Liechtenstein chooses to associate closely with Switzerland, uses the Franc, and has a royal family. We figured we should give the miniscule Principality some attention…since no one else appears to.

On Saturday afternoon we pulled into Vaduz, the capitol, and unexpectedly found ourselves face-to-face with the Fastnacht kick-off parade. Fastnacht holds many different names throughout Europe and is basically the equivalent to American Marti Gras: the last chance to party before Lent begins!

Sometimes it was hard to determine what to pay attention to: the parade participants…or the spectators.

After the parade surprise, we decided to take a driving tour around the Principality. Thirty minutes later we had hit 9 of the 12 cities and only accidentally left the country once!

Sunday morning was definitely the highlight of our trip to Liechtenstein, as I had a surprise birthday gift planned for Joe. We waited anxiously in the car (I still had not revealed the day’s activity yet), and played with the dashboard settings to try and determine which sounded warmer: -2oF or -18oC. Neither sounded particularly inviting to spend the morning in, but then the surprise arrived…dog sledding in the Liechtenstein mountains!

First, we met each of the Huskies and then got a crash course in dog-sledding (in German, of course). Next, each of the dogs was harnessed and Joe walked him/her over to join the team. I was charged with the task of holding onto the lead-dog, who, despite being tethered to 3 other Huskies, a sled, and a pick-up truck, was still jumping higher than my waist. Everybody was ready to run!!

Our instructors rode in one sled with four dogs, and left the foreigners to learn the hard way on the other sled, also with four dogs. Joe was the first one to put his newly-acquired dog sledding skills to the test…no practice runs here! As soon as the pack was unclipped from the pick-up truck (a genius safety-precaution, looking back) they were off! Within 100 yards, Joe hit a snow bank and the entire sled tipped over. The Huskies were still running though, and Joe (holding onto the safety strap as instructed) was dragged right into a second snow bank before our hosts could stop the team and right the sled. When he returned and I asked if he was ok, the response was: “Please tell me you got that on film!”

Sadly, I didn’t. However, if you look closely at the right side of his body, you can see remnants of the fall.

Now it was my turn. Joe gave me some additional pointers, in English, and then we took off. The pack obviously had burned off their first-run jitters by this time, because the biggest challenge I had was keeping my vision clear as the freezing wind tried to rob me of all my tears. We each took two trips through the woods with the Huskies before they were thoroughly exhausted.

The website where I found this opportunity said that lunch was included and would be enjoyed in the “Liechtenstein countryside”. I envisioned taking the Huskies into the woods, lighting a fire, and cooking up some brats on a spit. What really happened was not nearly as romantic, but definitely more enlightening.

We unharnessed the 8 dogs, gave them some treats, and then headed to the home of our hosts for a home-made Swiss lunch of Käseschnitte (bread layered with ham, cheese, bacon, and pineapple and then baked in the oven). I guess this part was my surprise for the day, but I have definitely learned how to do one thing from our 6 short months in Europe…go with the flow.

For more than two hours, we enjoyed our lunch and discussed numerous topics in their humble living/dining area. Eventually, the question of what we do for a living came up. Mine is fairly easy to explain, except when the question of how I can be a “teacher” on my computer with a company in the United States is asked. Joe usually keeps his simple by stating that he has a scholarship from his “company” to learn German and earn a degree. Naturally, the question of “which company” is always posed and the discussions that follow can be sticky.

Our hosts were not at all hesitant to share their perspectives on President Bush, President Obama or September 11th. They believe that the attacks of September 11th were a conspiracy by the American government, based on information they had received regarding the implosion of the Towers. Clearly there were some holes in their knowledge base because they knew nothing about the 4th airplane, its intentions, and its fate. They heard about it, for the first time, from us…in sluggish German.

The most amazing part of the day though, was watching Joe. True to form, he acknowledged the opinions of our hosts, stated that his were different, and then smoothly closed the conversation on a point which made everyone happy and even better friends than before the topic had begun. I have watched his phenomena before, but have never seen it done ganz auf Deutsch (completely in German) until today. Nach elf Jahren bin ich immer noch über meinen Mann erstaunt.

After lunch and dessert, as we walked back to the car, Joe and I mulled over our Liechtenstein experience. The average American would probably never be able to pick out Liechtenstein on a map, let alone tell you anything about the country. However, if the couple we met today were to represent the 35,000 individuals that call Liechtenstein home, they could tell you about American current events, politics, economy, and have an opinion about it all. Surprising, for sure.

In the words of our dog sledding hosts, “Mit kalten Schnauzen auf leisen Pfoten, macht der Husky dir Beine.“

With cold noses on silent paws, the Husky makes you legs.

Zermatt, Switzerland – das Land ohne Lichter

During the flight from Philadelphia to Germany, while Liv enjoyed her medicinal haze, Joe and I mapped out a three-year Travel Wish List. My personal list included skiing the Alps in Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and Austria. I haven’t skied in at least three years, so what better way to get started again than in the town of the infamous Matterhorn!

Thursday – We decided to drive ourselves to Zermatt, and about ¾ of the way there, the GPS started to say, “in 500m, take the Ferry….in 300m take the Ferry.” What?! We looked at each other with confusion and started to scramble for our packet of information/research. Did we somehow overlook a large body of water between Freiburg and southern Switzerland? A minute or two later, we pulled up to a check-point and were asked to fork over the Francs. The woman in the booth handed us a packet and told us that the train was leaving in 6 minutes.

I skimmed through the packet and deduced that we were taking a vehicular transport train, just as we pulled up and loaded ourselves in. We turned the car off and settled in for an interesting trip. Everything was going swimmingly as we enjoyed the view through the 3-foot openings on each side of the car-train. Then we entered the tunnel…and everything went completely dark! I’m talking REALLY dark. The parking lights of the car in front of us and our own dashboard lights were the only source of illumination for at least 15 minutes as we journeyed through the mountain! You couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

We warmly welcomed the light at the end of the tunnel and continued our journey. After settling into the hotel we suited up for an evening of tobogganing and boarded the gondola that would take us up the mountain to our launching point of 1867m. The information I gathered on the internet about this excursion was unnervingly vague, but I figured there would be signs, or a designated tobogganing hill, or something. There was nothing! We got off the gondola and everyone scattered. I quickly befriended three New Yorkers who were also toting toboggans and asked how this was all supposed to go down. The head of the NYC ménage à trois told us that the path was really hard to find, but we could follow him and his friends. This sounds easy, but we found ourselves in complete darkness…again! The trees wouldn’t even let the moonlight in. We were wandering through the forest, on the side of a mountain, with no lights or civilization in sight, doing our best to keep track of the shadows in front of us, on toboggans that had no turning or breaking capabilities. Fun with a dash of anxiety!

The only other people crazy enough to find a thrill in this adventure were a French father and son. They had a flashlight and every once in a while the darkness was extinguished just long enough so we could see the snow drift that we would inevitably steer ourselves directly into. Joe and I agreed to keep the flashlight-family in back of us, and the New Yorkers in front, as to avoid becoming the next episode of I Shouldn’t Be Alive. Honestly, it was so dark that the only way we knew that there was a turn ahead was when we ran directly into the side of the path.

The stars were totally amazing though. Absolutely breath-taking.

Joe, before the crash

Our plan to stay in the middle of the sparse crowd only lasted a short while. We had already lost the New Yorkers. About half way down the hill, Joe rammed the snow bank and parted ways from his toboggan. We don’t know if the father and son heard/understood his slew of profanity because they sped past us too quickly.

So now we were totally alone, left to grope our way back to town without any source of light and a waning tolerance for icy impacts. Nearly 45 minutes later we safely returned to civilization and had a few laughs over the flashlights that were sitting in our suitcases in the hotel room.

Zermatt, the land without lights.

Friday – I enjoyed a great day of skiing! On the way back to the hotel, we saw our first avalanche! It was SO LOUD and so close to the buildings. It snowed on us for about 3 minutes afterwards, as the “dust” settled.

Saturday – Snowfall grounded us in town on Saturday, but lead to a quintessential winter day.

We enjoyed this guy while he did his daily people-watching.

 

A stop at the Matterhorn Museum taught us about the first successful ascent to the 4478m summit by seven brave mountaineers and the successful decent by three of those climbers. The mountain holds a constant vigil over the graves of fallen climbers in the town cemetery.

 

 

 

 

Finally, we tucked away from the snow on a self-guided                                                   culinary tour, to include Swiss cheese, crusty bread, wine, and deliciously dark chocolate shaped like the precipice itself! Yum!

 

 

 

Thanks for a great weekend, Zermatt. Next time we’ll bring our head lamps!

der Haarschnitt

I haven’t had a haircut since I lived in the United States. Even then, I was so busy working and getting ready to move that I can’t even remember if my last haircut was in June or August! So, we are talking at least 5, perhaps 7 months of quality split-end collecting! I was basically wearing a hay bale on my head.

I finally mustered up the courage last week to call and make an appointment on the phone…in German. That was successful. At least something was.

Knowing that it could be challenging to explain what I wanted in German, I tapped into the old adage of “a picture is worth a thousand words”, and spent an afternoon gathering “good-hair-day” pictures of myself to take with. I felt pretty vain, but thought it would help.

When my Friseurin (hair stylist) arrived I showed her the pictures, used another Friseurin to help explain in English, and hoped that she understood. Time to wash. She gave me a fantastic head-massage which resulted in shampoo in my ears and half-way down my forehead, but she did a good job cleaning the suds up. Then she asked me to stand up while she dressed me in a gown. No joke. She put my arms through the sleeves, just like a coat, then tied it twice in front. (Were they nervous that my shirt was going to escape?) This was followed with a weighted neck-wrap that she draped over my shoulders to keep the gown in place. I couldn’t tell if I was at the hospital or getting an X-Ray at the dentist.

Time to cut. She pulled up a chair and sat down right beside me and started to comb. No hydrolic, spinning chairs, and no standing stylists. There was also no conditioner during the washing process, so even combing through my cobweb-thin hair was a challenge. A quick moment of déjà vu brought me to the side of the swimming pool as an 8 year old, being scolded by my mother, as she tugged and yanked, for failing to wash the chlorine out of my green-blond hair. The snip-snip of sharp shears ended that unpleasant memory.

I could feel the cold metal creep farther and farther up my neck. Why was she still cutting?! I told her that I wanted my hair to stop at my shoulders. As she inched closer and closer to my ears I feared that I had mixed up the words shoulder and chin. Then, she started to “texturize” the hair around my face… above my eyes! I know I didn’t say anything about eyes or foreheads. My German isn’t that bad. There she was, nevertheless.

Then came the moment every woman fears at the hair salon. As you are sitting in the chair, a big chunk of hair suddenly appears in the space between your face and the mirror, time freezes as you discern whether or not it is still attached to your head, and when you realize it has been erroneously severed from its follicles, you feel your stomach hit the floor before the hair even has a chance to settle in your lap.

She continued to chop and prune, trying to fix the un-fixable. Again, the déjà vu. This time I am in 6th grade and my mother has failed make a straight line of my bangs, resulting in hair so short that it stuck out like a tutu from my forehead. So, I think/hope the cutting is done as she blow dries and fusses and primps and sprays and seemingly procrastinates about declaring this the final product.

Her final response (in English): “Its short!”   Yup…ya think…

I undressed from the X-Ray proof neck guard and double-tie straitjacket, paid, and took as many deep breaths as the Earth had air for. I got on my bike and let the wind blow through my hair.

Oh wait…that last sentence is a lie. My hair was too short for the wind to get any traction in.

Joe and I always comment about how awful our elevator is because there is a full-length mirror that you can’t not look in. Even on a good day, nothing kills the self-esteem more than that elevator. I don’t know why I didn’t take the stairs today. I really should have. I really really should have.

I immediately got into the shower, hoping that my worst nightmare would wash down the drain. After combing, spraying, blow drying, pomadeing, barretting, and pony-tailing, the mirror could not lie. I was sporting an amazing new projection from my scalp: a nice clump of really short bangs that refuse to do anything but stick straight out.

I can deal with a haircut that is way too short. Hair grows. Thank God.

The new bug-antenna, on the other hand, is going to be a real Arschgrobbler.