Paris & Switzerland

From the opera house, I wanted to walk the river right down to the Grand Palace – constructed the same time as the Eiffel Tower, apparently for the 1900 World Fair. Basically I was walking from one end of he city to the other and what I saw along the way… tree lines parades with statues to kings, queens and warriors rising out of the earth. Snow blanketed the enormous orchestrated parks, people throwing snow balls as I crunched my way through. I wandered the length of the Louvre, I didn’t know it, but, it was originally a palace and dates back to medieval times. It would take weeks to see it all, it stretches an entire city block! The gardens – even in the snow – are a sight to see. So much thought have gone into their structure. Open and welcoming. More angelic statues littered symmetrically. I can imagine it coming to life in the summer and can feel the romance. It breathes romance from the very buildings, the river writing its way through, the cobbled streets and open parades. It made me long for a hand to hold.

I saw the famed glass pyramid at the entrance of the Louvre. The French have apparently been fascinated with Egypt for hundreds of years. Inside the Louvre I saw an exhibition about its’ history – how it has become this grand, almost unbelievable construction in the heart of a city with such a vibrant, sometimes tumultuous, past. What can I say? The Louvre is magnificent. It, like much of the architecture in Parties, took my breath away. Along my walk I saw Place de la Madeline, a columned Roman Building, Galleries Lafayette (shopping centres), Arc de Triumph (easy to be killed on the mad round-a-bout), Avenue de Champs Elees (posh shops that I practically felt my purse quiver in fear at!), some amazing pillars with exorbitant gold leaged statues constructed for the visit of Zsar Alexander of Russur (one of my favourite sites) – you will remember Alexander as the tragic historic figure, one of the royals lost in the Communist Revolution – poor man, I blame his mother, his wife and the strangely appealing Rasputin for his untimely downfall!
I also went to where dear little Napoleon is rested (am sure he would cut off my head for such a comment, but I luckily he is entombed in marble… and I am not!).
The Eglise de Dome is a Fort, it was highly guarded in its time, but is now a museum and gallery. It is an all encompassing and rather intimidating structure.
Napoleans coffin is ridiculously huge, ironically so. It is surrounded by Roman Statues portraying gods of strength and change (I assume under his own instructions… maybe a representation of himself… bless him). My favourite element of his tomb (if appropriate to have one) were the fresco paintings adorning to dome. I was getting vertigo by staring up so long. This angelic world spinning above us all, the soft blue sky and fairyfloss clouds, wrestling angels and soldiers. A veritable mix of chaos and perfection intertwined above his resting body.
I meandered back toward Notre Dame, along my walk I investigated Assemble Nationale, Musee d’orsay, the Concierge and saw the Bastille. So much to take in… but the Notre Dame brough tears to my eyes, it was at that point I really realised where I was and what I was doing. I don’t even know how to describe the awe and calm that came over me when I walked in. It is a refuge. A solemn and holy place – be you religious or atheist, there is something about this place that steals your heart and stills your sould. This is Paris. Not the romantic feature film… not the scene for meetings and emotional partings… Paris has heart that exists before, during and after these affectations of love. There is more to it than the moisture of a tear and clarity of laughter. The beauty of Paris is in the grey, the grey is there when the black and white is not.
The island in the middle of the Sienne where Notre Dame stands is the oldest area of Paris and you can see the different in the architecture. Throughout Paris I adored the shuttered windows of five storey apartments, the metal grate barriers on quaint flowered balconies, the cobbled street. It was all so surreal.
Katherine and I met for dinner in the Latin Quarter. It has such a brilliant vibrancy there. Food… food is more than food to them, more than a substance to sustain them. It is not the air that you breath, but an element of existence that, although essential, can be perfection. Can be like oxygen to the lung, like art to the eye, like fire to warm the flesh. I don’t wonder why they took war to McDonalds a few years back!
In the Latin Quarter, with Notre Dame staing over all, there was a vibrancy in the air, people smiling in the streets, balloons, light, colour and music. We went to a few bars down small Latin and pebbled streets, enjoyed live music and friendly locals, took their cigarettes in hand and mimicked their pleasure. We listened to their banter, and when invited, took part. Simple and unique and perfect… and far too short.
One could spend endless hours going into different bars and meeting each and every bar man, woman and manager, the locals, speak to the musicians, but it was getting late and as such, Katherine and I were determined to experience a far better French cuisine than provided us the evening prior.
Katherine and I were coxed by every type of person, the chinese had unique chinese food, the greeks wanted to show us the time of our life, the romans and Italians advised that their food was the food of love and the Japanese pushed sushi toward our noses… however;
We found a small restaurant in the Latin Quarter with a lovely old man (although more touchy than one would prefer!) who stood out the front and directed our attention to the cuisine on offer. He smiled and spoke French, and I used the few phrases I knew from university and shortly Katherine and I were sat comfortably on cushioned wooden planks in a fire-lit oval and ceramic cave, the warmth radiated from the walls, laughter bounced about, clinks of wine glasses and cutlery. It was like being in someones home, more than just a restaurant, this was an experience. We felt so embraced and cared for by the proprietor’s, we were guests, not customers. After a free cravat of delicious Italian wine we were put on to the escargot (aka, snails) which were delicious! The remaining garlic sauce we poured gloriously onto our bread and consumed with absolute delight. For desert (after a chick main course… again, to die for!) we had crepes with a chocolate and liqueur sauce… I was in heaven. I had not realised how much I enjoyed food. I suddenly realised my passion for it and decided when I returned home I would be investigating the best recipes to relive this angelic experience. The service, ofcourse, helped. All smiles and enjoyment that these two, very unattractively cloaked, Australian’s were so fascinated by their culture, their food, so grateful for the experience. The warmth between both parties is something that will forever remain and I hope one day to return and find that restaurant and tell the restaurateur that it was here that I discovered my passion for the creation of meals. Eating is eating, but to create a meal that makes others happy… that, I believe, is art.
I think that this and Notre Dame were my highlights. After a final cocktail at a bar with bra’s handing from the ceiling, Katherine and I jumped on to the metro back to our hotel. Before going back we went to a supermarket to get some English tea. I’ve found the tea in Paris is dreadful and heaven forbid you want milk in it! The people here think you are insane! Katherine and I asked for a cup of tea with milk and sugar the other day, not only were we cursed by the lady at the bar, but she gave us LAVENDER tea with MILK as a side in a small pot! AND WE ARE WEIRD! I think not! So… Katherine and I decided the only way to go was to purchase our own tea and life-long milk and simply ask for hot water when required, and make our own tea! One cannot travel, or LIVE infact, without a nice cup of tea in the morning, at lunch and just before bed. We are civilised after all!
The super-market voyage was an experience in itself. On our way we saw a man opening urinating in the street and wile in the market a French Man tried to invite us to dinner, about three times in all.
We bought tea, cake and biscuits for the long journey to Switzerland the following day.

I feel like I’ve left so much out. Paris is an experience… it is expensive, it is unique, it is pretentious on the outter and I feel there is so much undiscovered beauty that the French try to hide from the tourist. I will endeavour to discover its secrets when I go again, but for the interim… beauty is only skin deep. For me… Paris has only skin.

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We drove from Paris to Interlaken, Switzerland… a 12 hour trip, so a lot of reading, some napping until I woke o find mountains rising up on either side of me, lakes zig sagging their way through silent snow covered valleys, fir trees encased in whispers of silvery winter flakes. I felt so small, so silent and so bewildered by the unexplainable and awe inspiring beauty that surrounded me. Was I watching a documentary? Sitting on a couch in WA, the scorching sun humming along with the mosquito's and crickets outside? Or was this… this, really me? Here… in this fairytale land of the Brothers Grimm? Could I be so lucky as to have these dreams fulfilled? My heart was exploding in its chest, I somehow wanted to engulf the horizon that lay before me and never allow it to leave my sight. I could hear nothing… I was so encased in the romanticism of this glorious world.

The first night Katherine and I found a small bar, hoping for a quiet drink while we wrote about the delight our eyes experienced today. The bar we found was a hansel and Gretel-like German cottage, yellow with green shutters and a heaped blazing wooden fire within. The wooden beams barred down on us… almost a perfect escape from normality but for Nirvana laying over the speakers! We sat and wrote in quiet companionship until Brian (our driver) and Edward (our tour guide) entered with the doctor and his wife. Although interrupted, it ended up a very entertaining start to the evening with conversation about Irish politics, personal genealogy and general banter. The drinks flowed and discussions ensued until we moved on to a rather entertaining… and quirky, local restaurant. Decorated with cow bells, cow skin covered seats, cow mats and waiters in cow skin pants who danced about enthusing the crowd.

Our first coarse was a three cheese fondoo and… if ever I get married, this will most certainly be on the menu! It was delicious, my love of cheese, though I thought could never be increased, reached celestial heights! Bless the swiss and their food! (AND COWS!) I had a chance to blow an exceptionally large cow horn (taking all of my gall, not to mention breath) to the laughter and applause of the crowd. There was a congo dance, we all embraced each others waists and danced around the restaurant tripping and laughing and embracing what was an inherently strange day.

I left a little earlier than others, desperately desiring a long warm sower and to get some rest for what would be a rather adventurous day to come.

Still with cold (the freezing air is not being kind to my rather pitiful bronchioles), I never the less took the ‘Bull by the Chain’ – thought that being an appropriate turn of phrase for my location! Apologies for my love of the pun! – we ventured out into minus degrees. Breakfast was a sausage, potato and pancake fest… something I believe I’ll never tire of (must apologise to my thighs for this ofcourse) and in a group we took the train to head toward the “top of Europe”… apparently the highest Alp. We took the oldest Cog Railway up Jungfrau. This railway was built sleeper by sleeper by rather dedicated men who wanted to allow the less vigorous traveller to see the extraordinary sights of glacial plains… it was constructed around the 1800’s and I thank the men for conceiving such a tourist opportunity (I am a fan of a long hike, but have no interest in freezing off my eyelashes to stand above the clouds… this way, I got to keep my eyelashes, and eyebrows to boot, AND was able to stand above the clouds!)
Jungfrau is 3454 meters above sea level… It sounds high and one might think that scary, but not so scary as the unexpected headache you get from being to far from a reasonable amount of oxygen. Apparently there are goats that have no problem with this and all I can say is, good for them!
As we progressed up the mountain my head stared pounding, my frontal lobe was not impressed with me, but the pain was overshadowed by the breathtaken views of the Swiss Alps. How can you describe something that breaths magic from its very being? The sparkling sun-kissed snow almost sung in its magnificence… there is a colour… something beyond description… although snow is white, there was something transparent, like hidden rainbows as you crunched across the glowing terrain. Mountains soured on all sides, intimidating in their natural grace. Speechless… this profound piece of nature, these ancient structures were somehow alive, profound to think that a millennia ago they were flat lands, that heat and movement had caused them, creakingly to slowly rise up and protest their grandeur. I’ve never felt so magnificently humbled by such an achievement of mother nature. Minions, so fortunate, so have the opportunity to exist on a planet so extraordinary that neither Shakespeare, nor Keats, could truly express its greatness in the word. It is a silent epiphany of visual experience.

As we made our way up the mountain we took in the great blanketed monuments that rose near and far… a planet upon a planet. You could see the tips of great trees peeping and protruding from mounds of snow, you could see animal tracks making a patchwork of these white blankets. The quaint by cosy looking houses that puffed smoke from their red chimney tops. The cottages almost hung from the scopes of the mountain, greens and reds with wood cabins loaded beside them. Can I ever describe the utter beauty of it all? I honestly can say I could not believe my eyes, how was it possible… from a flat farming world or dry wheat and wandering sheep to this… Such all encompassing beauty exists! I felt the need to thank someone, or something for this… not just for the creation of it, but for allowing me, graciously and generously, to experience it.
I will never be able to do justice to the magnificence of what I saw, I just accept my utter fortune in having stepped upon it and more fortunate in that this experience will live inside me forever.

After a couple of hours we came to our final destination… the peak of Junfrau. My first port of call was to get out there… to have my boots in the now, to touch the top… or atleast the snow that currently covered it. Although my head felt ready to explode, with a few steps I felt dizzy and breathless. My heart was begging for more oxygen, but so far up…. Its not overly accessible in multitude. However, determination overpowered the possibility of a heart attack and out I went on the actual glacier… yes… little Fiona Leake from Pingelly was standing ankle deep in snow on a glacier. Although I’d not climbed it, I felt that this was a feat in itself. I was along way from home, Toto.
Standing out there in the open “air” – for want of a better word! It seemed like a dream… when I look back now, it is still merged with fantasies of flying, I don’t know if such an experience will ever seem real to me, did I deserve it? How much I wished those I care for were there with me, to see and experience, to breath in the magnificence of it all. Nature… at its finest.
As I looked down on the clouds… swirling below me some hundred feed, the sun pouring over me in all of its blazing and uninhibited glory, all I wanted to do was scream… at the same time, given the wonderful migraine-like headache I was having, I thought the better of it. My fingers, nose and ears went suddenly numb and then started to experience an excruciating pain. I don’t know how they do it, those climbers heading up Everest and the like… yes this was beautiful, but I must say they are absolutely and categorically mad, but my hat off to them (in warmer circumstances ofcourse... you could have paid me $500 to take my beanie off in this situation and I tell you, you could keep your money!). Needless to say that altitude sickness is intense and fast and uncompromising. I will hold those views in my mind forever though… memory being such a grand thing that you can erase pain and embrace the goodness. To stand on a glacier overlooking the valleys and alps covered in snow… to be above fluffy clouds that, as a child you thought was fairy floss floating in the air… unbelievable. And do you know what? Even though I’ve never been so cold, never been in so much pain when not lying in bed with my mother serving scrambled eggs… I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Next time though… I wouldn’t mind skiing down it!

There was an ice palace within the glacier, amazing ice sculptures of penguins, seagulls and the rather unlikely… Mikey Mouse!
Taking the elevator I decided to deprive myself of even more oxygen and go to the very top of Jungfrau, known as a the Pshinx Observation Centre. Within a moment you are sped to the heavens, which made me rather dizzy and wanting a paper bag, not assisted at all by my cold, but it was worth the pain. I was on Mount Olympus staring down on the world…. The magnificent Earth.
After a brief photoshoot in which Katherine attempted to get me mid-air but ended up with photos of my looking like I was a tiger preparing for the pounce! – we took to the galleria and hopefully something warm and hearty to eat. Had I realised prior to ordering that a bratwurst and chips would cost 20 Euro… or in the vicinity of $45 I think I would have held my appetite… but where were you going to go? Unfortunately Coles is yet to set up a franchise on the glacial peaks of Switzerland… mores the pitty!
After such an experience I have bonded very much with my snow books, all 8 kilos of them, and have every intention of taking them where ever I go, even the nullabore… we are close companions now! I can safely say now, that I have certainly experienced snow.

I think that after this I finally understand the concept that everything is possible. You can come from anywhere and do anything… it just takes a bit of effort, a bit of belief in yourself and a bit faith… I never expected to be here, or see this. I find now that I need to check my reality, to say… this IS you… this IS your life.. YOU have gotten to see this… even if you cant believe it, it is true. There has never been a luckier girl, I never thought it would be me, here.

The evening was rather note worthy. After our adventure up the mountain I decided to spend some time with the glorious sowers in our room. Incredible showers… something about freezing off your appendages and then having a shower in a robust, all encompassing, hot and steamy shower… I will forever be in debt to the romans for plumbing, excellent invention people, very glad of it. Shortly after my shower I decided to have a bath, and round off the experience with another shower. I’ve never spent so long in a bathroom!
I went to the internet café to email family and friends before wandering the streets alone, taking in the architecture, the dark ominous mountains bearing down, the river running through the town, before fortuitously meeting Katherine (a side note, there was no traffic in this town, a marvellous thing after so long in London with tooting and splushing and zooming of every vehicle you could imagine… just me, the sky and the streets… in such a situation you cant help but become distracted by the awe of silence, the subtle rustling winds, the splatter of stars in an otherwise empty sky).

Katherine and I tried again to find a quiet haunt to sit and write in silent companionship, and yet again, were rudely interrupted by the presence of our very inebriated driver, Brian, and tour-guide, Edward. I heart later that Brian had been drinking whiskey since lunch – it was now 6pm and he was still sitting with a beer in one hand and a whiskey in the other. I was slightly concerned as he was due to drive us to Florence the next day and no doubt would be feeling VERY under the weather. WE tried to ignore is swaying and mumbling presence, taking out our writing materials and chatting merrily about our experiences of the day.
Unfortunately, Edward and Brian advised that we simply MUST join their party, an intriguing and strangely enjoyable experience – bar the fact Brian fell off his stool, tried to have an intellectual conversations, however lacking the complete use of his tongue and, possibly, any cerebral functioning. Personally I was very relieved when he was enticed to go back to the hotel to sleep. Edward reassured us that he would be fine in the morning… I still kept my fingers crossed! I spent some time chatting to Edward who explained how his mother had left him and he was therefore unsure of women and a lost soul… which we both happily decided to forget said conversation the following morning.