(Original draft lost during power loss. Rewritten 6/27)
Hard to say good-bye to my terrace in Paris. I felt connected to the mama bird, and wondered what she thought about as she sat on her eggs, waiting and waiting. I was in a different headspace. Moving and moving and trying to run ahead of an anxiety that had been under control for years. I wondered what else would go wrong. Bathroom three floors down? Avalanche on the Matterhorn? Late Metro and I'd miss my TGV to Geneva? No seat on the train? I was grateful the Pere Lachaise Haunted Tour didn't give me any nightmares.
I took a few cleansing breaths, then did my stretching and yoga routine with the bird watching. The Wi-Fi was strong this morning and I figured out I could use Uber. A driver clicked on and for 28 euros I bought peace of mind. I booked it for the short ride to Gare Lyon and wouldn't have to worry about the Metro. This was too easy. My ride dropped me off right in front. As I went up the escalator, I saw I was 45 minutes early. My reward? An espresso and pain au chocolat. As I sipped and munched, I saw a couple in their 20's kiss, the woman on her tiptoes as tears streamed down her face. The young man spoke with an American accent and she held his cheeks and spoke some French endearments. It was easy to fill in the blanks.
My ticket pulled up on my phone and saved in my Apple wallet, I had no problem getting on the train and finding my seat in first class. This would be a splurge day: private ride to the station and a very comfortable place in the upstairs seats with a view. My electronic ticket worked at the turnstile and a nicely uniformed conductor-type said "Bon Voyage." I was not the only woman in first class wearing hiking boots and I tried to have a conversation for awhile with a Swiss woman who spoke German. I was rusty, but we smiled through it all.
As I sped through the countryside of France at 200 m.p.h., the farmland looked like California, especially the sunflower farms. I realized I hadn't talked to any family members for almost two weeks, and I knew I missed my girls more than they missed me. They have happy, busy lives. I blew kisses to the west and hoped Lo would get to do this trip some day. Audrey did the hike a year ago and she had given me a plan.
Now that I have some of the features of a smart phone again, I’ll admit how much easier it is travel with instant access to information. I still don’t have GPS, but that doesn't bother me a bit. My laminated map of Paris is an old friend, even though I looked at it upside down half of the time. Once I realized the bend of the Seine is smiling instead of frowning, I could reorient and find my way. I like to look at maps, plan the day, and see how well my memory serves me. I remembered that I'd have to switch train stations in Geneva, from my pre-trip planning. I had an hour, so I hoped I'd be fine.
Today my TGV Lyria train took around 3 hours to reach Geneva. I expected to be pulled out of the customs line as usual, but nothing happened. My invisible coastal grandma outfit was working. Or maybe my hiking shoes with red laces signalled me as a hiker, not an American. Who knows? I walked right by the customs agent, looked at the arrivals and departures board, found my next platform, and walked underground to #4. This is too easy. Yes, the Swiss are organized and they do love their trains. They're very expensive, but spotlessly clean. I found my SBB train to Visp, knew I had to switch to the Gotthardsbahn Matterhorn train to Zermatt. I should arrive after 4:00 if everything worked.
As we left Geneva and road around the lake, I got a crick in my neck from leaning forward toward the beauty. I did another round of chin tucks and neck stretches, and began to get excited. Finally I am going to see one of the world's most mysterious mountains, the Matterhorn. I indulged in a few happy childhood memories as gushing alpine lakes stained brown from heavy snowmelt plunged through the granite. The train route to Zermatt followed the river canyon and every bend brought another beauty. I remember how the Disney Matterhorn ride changed over the years, with the Abominable Snowman visible, along with the Eiffel Tower-like metal infrastructure. Then they drywalled over that, then the sleds went up a tube with the monster only visible for a second.
What was the inspiration for this famous ride like in person? As I disembarked from the train and started walking up the center street of Zermatt, I was more focused on seeing the mountain than on finding my hotel. I spent an hour wandering up and up, until I saw clouds covering the sky where the Matterhorn should be. Typical. The mountain made its own weather. Around me, beautiful alpine peaks showed their green and granite. Waterfalls were everywhere, and I saw some folks get off of a tram, still wearing their skiing gear. I could ski tomorrow. I just didn't dare. One bad fall and my fragile knees would probably blowout. Damn.
Hotel Zermama was hilarious and beautiful. The branding was all "your mama" and I tried to remember some of those jokes. My tiny single room was efficiently presented and the shower looked great. I had a view of the carpark roof's rocks, but a bargain is a bargain. I asked the hotel clerk where I could find a memorable meal, and he said "Julian's is the best." I walked over the Kirche Bridge and made a reservation for 7:00, leaving me time to explore some more. Would the Matterhorn show up before dinner? No.
I spoke German to the wait staff and they gave me a German menu. I ordered the lamb, fully confident I knew what I was doing. It was terrific and I had a lot of fun talking to the British couple who arrived a bit after I started eating. But, they had an English menu and asked me what I'd ordered. When I said the lamb, they said, "Oh, it looks like you ordered lamb tongue. Did you like it?" OMG, I'd done it again. This time, the food was still in my stomach and the urge to barf was so great I ran to the bathroom. Nothing happened, but I was still disgusted with myself. First baby ducks, and now this.
As I sait on the Kirche Bridge from 8-9:30, supposedly optimum viewing times during sunset, a few ridges of the Matterhorn appeared and disappeared. The clouds didn't turn pink and the crowds waiting with cameras poised were disappointed. I met a couple from Dallas and we had a great time. They told me to get up for the sunrise and I was sure to see something. I followed the river back to my hotel and fell right to sleep with the shades open. When the first light appeared, I'd get up and hustle back to the bridge. Surely the Matterhorn wouldn't disappoint me two days in a row.
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