Fancy-Pants Gstaad

2017 April 19

Back in Denver

I’ve definitely taken my time in writing the second article of this trip. I’m back home from Europe, it’s March 12 (at least as of writing this sentence), and I’m getting around to writing about my 3rd day of the trip which took place on February 4, so at this rate, I’ll write about the end of my trip (March 5th) in a little over 3 years (I made an actual calculation for that – 30 days left in the trip * 37 days from present day = 1110 days = ~3.04 years). But of course that’s ridiculous. I promise to step up my game and write these within at least 3.02 years.

To make up for that, here’s an artsy-fartsy picture I took during my first week back in Denver.

I actually have a good excuse, though – I’ve been busy with work. It’s much better than having no work, so I’ve got nothing to complain about.

Nachtreise

My intention in traveling from Amsterdam to Switzerland through Germany was to see the Rhine River valley. I had forgotten that the sun sets at night, so the valley was completely dark. Any pictures that I would have taken in the valley would just be a reflection of me taking a picture on the train. But I saw some cool things before it got too dark.

I almost regret not stopping anywhere in Germany, but the country will certainly have a place in my future. The place is so big, and I’ve met so many awesome Germans. It probably deserves an entire trip of its own.

I got to use my Eurail pass for the first time.

This may have been the only time I actually needed to have my papers completely in order. The Deutsche Bahn attendant was very thorough, whereas no one in Switzerland, France, Portugal, or Spain glanced at it for more than 2 seconds before moving on. I guess I could make a joke about Germans being organized here, but that’s too easy. But on the topic of stereotypes, the stereotype of German punctuality was definitely true from what I experienced on the rails. Every single train arrival and departure in Germany arrived and departed on the exact minute of each schedule. As Liz Lemon would say, it’s organized like a “wochentags Düsseldorf Bus-Fahrplan”. I can’t say the same thing applies to Spain.

All border crossings were perfectly uneventful. I had no idea exactly when they happened, which is a bizarre miracle to an American like me, and a bizarre nightmare for an American unlike me.

For anyone unfamiliar with the Schengen Area, it’s a concept applied to most of Continental Europe where the movement of goods and people are completely hassle-free. Established in 1995, the Schengen Area makes travel and trade more efficient and helps Europe compete economically. It definitely made traveling in Europe easier for me.

When I switched trains in Bern, I had an hour to eat a delicious pretzel and feel the pain of converting US Dollars into Swiss Francs for the first time.

The train from Montreux to Gstaad was a regional train with many, many stops.

You can see where it transitions from French-speaking Switzerland to German-speaking Switzerland.

I eventually arrived in Gstaad. I needed a taxi for the hostel, so I stopped in the nearest hotel by the train station and asked the concierge for help. He didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak German, but we both spoke a bit of French.

The taxi driver didn’t speak French, but spoke a bit of English. This was one of the first times someone assumed I wasn’t from the US after hearing me talk. She guessed England. I was surprised, but this turned out to be common in the smaller towns, where there isn’t as much exposure from tourists and variety in accents.

Die Jugendherberge

I arrived at the youth hostel around 2 AM. There was no one working, but it wasn’t an issue since I emailed them ahead of time that I would arrive late – they just taped my key and entry info to the front door. This level of trust was extremely common here. Despite Switzerland being an especially closed-off, hard-to-visit, suspicious-of-foreigners part of the world, there’s a surprising amount of trust in 1-to-1 interactions.

For being the cheapest hostel in town, this place was exquisite. Plus, they gave me complimentary chocolate.

In case that was too fast:

If it looks like no one else exists in Gstaad in these pictures, that’s because it’s basically true. This was a weird hostel experience for me. I didn’t even learn anyone else’s name here. This might’ve been because there weren’t any other visitors that wasn’t two parents with their small children. Most of the time, a “youth hostel” is a place for people in their late teens to early thirties to travel, but I’m not judging. I suppose if you have a youthful spirit, it’s still a good match. For example, there was someone in the Valencia hostel at the end of the Europe trip who was in her sixties but more youthful than most people there.

Snowboarding in Fancy-Pants Gstaad

This is the first half of the walk from the hostel to the ski / snowboard rental shop.

Very soon after I was done recording this, I asked for directions from the most epicly mustached man I’ve ever met. This wasn’t just some ironic hipster-stache; this was a genuine, I’m-an-old-Swiss-mountain-man mustache. The mustache was almost a beard. I didn’t get a picture, though, because I’m not sure that it can be photographed without it’s epicness breaking the camera.

The rental shop had only two people running the place, and I felt like I was the only customer they had all day. They were a nice and patient staff. Plus, they gave me complimentary chocolate.

After the shuttle to the bottom of the slopes, starting was as easy as buying a day pass and hopping on the lift. There was a man there sweeping the fresh snow off the seats for the occasional user, but I had the feeling that there would be absolutely no one if it weren’t for the weather – when I’ve snowboarded in the US, usually there’s a safety dude whose whole job is to make sure people don’t biff it on the lift. I didn’t sign any waiver, and even though the slopes were clearly marked, they weren’t as foreboding if you were to decide to go off-course.

I did not bring goggles… You’d think I would have learned my lesson after doing this in Colorado, but in all fairness, I assumed the snowboard rental shop would have some for me. I asked the ticket booth worker at the bottom of the slope if there were any goggle shops nearby for me after my first run. During that time of day, most of those shops were closed, but she was totally fine with offering me, a complete stranger from another country that she met 30 seconds prior, her sunglasses as a means of protection better than my bare eyeballs. I just had to return them before she left work. Of course, I accepted them and went down the slopes a few more times. You won’t see any time-lapse gifs of going down the mountain since I was concentrating on snowboarding, but if you want more in the future, feel free to buy me a GoPro.

There aren’t too many differences between snowboarding in Colorado and snowboarding in Switzerland, but the snow in Colorado definitely seems better (though, keep in mind that I’m judging from a sample size of one day in Europe). The Rocky Mountains are taller by far, and not as steep as the Alps. I think this makes it snow more often and keeps the snow on the slopes for longer. Supposedly, the views in the Alps are much more picturesque because of the steepness of them, but it was so foggy the entire time I was there that I didn’t get a chance to see more than a mile (or 1.6 kilometers) ahead of me. The steep slopes are apparently more fun for extreme skiers and snowboarders, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.

Fräu Sunglasses suggested that I go to the North Pole for lunch when I was done.

The waitress didn’t speak English or French, and I didn’t speak German, so we were at a loss for a bit. I could’ve pointed to the menu items, but I had no idea what I would be pointing to. She got the help of another waiter to describe the items for me, and surprised me by asking him in Spanish, at which point I surprised her by saying something along the lines of, “Oh! Hablas Español. Perfecto. Como sabe la sopa?” The soup was very good. Plus, they gave me complimentary chocolate.

Ice Skating in Fancy-Pants Gstaad

The next day wasn’t long, but I took a few more pictures in downtown Gstaad.

I had some time to kill before the train to Geneva, so I stopped in a coffee shop and worked a bit. When it was time to pay, they didn’t accept credit cards and I didn’t have enough francs, so the guy said to just go up the street for the ATM (because you’re never further than a few blocks away from a bank in Switzerland), basically giving me permission to dine and dash after sitting there for about 2 hours and using the hell out of their wifi. For the record, I did not dine and dash. Plus, they gave me complimentary chocolate.

From my experience, Switzerland is very trusting, despite its overall paranoia of foreign powers. I may be misattributing small-town trust to the country as a whole, but I’ve been in small towns in Iowa and Nebraska, where I grew up, that are more paranoid about strangers than Gstaad could ever try to be.

With still some more time to kill, I ice skated and took pictures of cow statues.

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