#6 - The Swiss life — Tim Schaefer Photography

I snuck a photo of some randoms as they gazed out over central Zurich from Lindenhof Hill, a historic lookout point.

IT’S currently December 9, 2016, as I type this. I’m sitting on a bus heading towards Nuremberg after six astonishing days in Switzerland. You’ll have to excuse the lack of updates. Hostel life – and the beauty of the Swiss Alps – has left me with little down time. Switzerland was a whirlwind of astonishing highs from start to finish. Last Saturday, I was sitting alone on a bus heading towards Zurich with no idea what to expect. By Thursday, I was kayaking on Lake Brienz at the base of the Swiss Alps with an awesome travel buddy enjoying one of the most surreal experiences of my life. But first, let’s go back to where it all began last Saturday. Beware: this is a long one. I've always been taught to write concisely and tell a story in as few words as possible. Well, that rule got thrown out the window here. Ready? Let's do it.

After five wonderful days in Munich, it was time to move on. I don’t really remember why I picked Zurich on a whim, but boy I’m glad I did. I arrived into the city late on Saturday night, and first impressions were fantastic. Zurich’s architecture is stunning. Truly stunning. It’s a mix of baroque, neo-classicism and modern design and it all fits serenely together. Nothing looks out of place in central Zurich, and when you couple the beautiful buildings with the magic of Christmas you have one special city. Zurich does Christmas very, very well. The magic of the season fills the air. Almost all the buildings are lavishly decorated, and many of the main streets have lights strung across them creating a beautiful cascade of sparkling light as you walk along the cobblestones. The city also does Christmas markets like no other. Munich had nothing on this place.

Zurich is a Christmas wonderland. Most buildings are festooned with lights and strung across the streets from building to building creating a cascade of lights.

With it being the home of many of the world’s banks, this street is one of the most expensive in the world.

I checked into the hostel and met my roommate, a Chilean bloke named Luis. Within about a minute, the subject was beer and so we immediately set off to find a pub. If Zurich has any downsides, it’s that everything is ridiculously expensive. Painfully so. A pint of beer in a pub? About AUD$16. A decent block of Swiss chocolate? About AUD$12. The best hot chocolate in Zurich? About AUD$14. A gourmet hot dog from the Christmas markets? About AUD$15. Yes, I found this all out personally. Yes, it was worth every cent.

After pretending we could afford the Zurich pub experience for an hour or so, we cut our losses and found a convenience store where we stocked up on cheap Bavarian beer and returned to the hostel where we belonged. This was a fine decision because Luis and I ended up meeting a ripping bunch of people who had the same idea. Of course, this is the best part of hostel life. Meeting and living in the moment with people who are equally as social, carefree and easy-going.

A statue on Lindenhof Hill commemorates the successful defense of Zurich in 1291 by a group of women who dressed up as male soldiers to trick the advancing army of Albert I of Germany, who planned to attack the city.

Sunday was a chance to explore the city on foot, and so I soaked it up by partaking in a free walking tour, which really showcased the fascinating history of the place. Among the highlights were statues dating back to the 1200s, a wander down one of Europe’s richest streets, a chance to glimpse the remnants of an underground Roman bath and the biggest church clockface in Europe. Later on, I wandered through the ridiculously shiny museum of FIFA (the shamelessly-corrupt governing body of world football, for those playing at home) which was as corporatised and soulless as expected. Anyone wanting an honest historical snapshot of FIFA and all of its ills will leave that building sorely disappointed.

It wasn’t entirely irredeemable though, because I made sure I got my AUD$35 worth by hogging the replay exhibit that let you watch highlights of the best World Cup games over the years. Scores and scores of young children stood and watched, waited for their turn and then lost interest in favour of playing foosball while I stubbornly watched every Australian match in the archive. Never get between a tightarse and his quest to get value for money.

The entrance to Cafe Schober, which possesses the greatest hot chocolate in the world.

Breakfast is bonding time in hostels, and on Monday morning I was barely halfway through my free bowl of cereal when my plans to leave Zurich that day went out the window. When a fellow Aussie also named Tim suggested I stay for another night and sink beers, I folded like origami and was quickly drafting makeshift plans for the day. After a walk through town to experience the best hot chocolate you ever will try, myself, Luis, two Aussies, an Argentinian cop, two American college students and a seemingly-mute Asian girl were on a boat in the middle of Lake Zurich freezing our souls out. We chatted, we bonded, and we looked longingly overboard where the Swiss Alps should have been if not for a heavy blanket of fog. Ah well. Visibility was absolutely non-existant on the boat and when one eagle-eyed member of our ragtag group spotted the signs leading to the Lindt chocolate factory, we disembarked without a moment’s hesitation. You could smell that rich, creamy, glorious aroma of Lindt wafting over the streets from the boat ramp, and we followed our noses all the way there and stocked up on reasonably-priced Swiss chocolate like schoolkids at the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory.

As the sun set over Zurich on Monday, our group got into the Christmas spirit by exploring the Bellevue Christmas markets (the best I've seen in Europe so far) and later went on a light tour of town. I'd already done this walk three times but it truly was a special experience each time. As someone used to the sunny and steamy Australian version of Christmas, the European approach is superbly magical. The freezing cold air, the hot mulled wine, the streetscapes sparkling with lights in every direction, ice skating in the park, open firepits with roaring fires and Christmas markets chockablock full of hand-crafted ornaments and yummy winter treats. It really brings out the kid in everyone. To experience it with a group of people equally as excitable was a special moment.

Once we retreated back to the warmth of our hostel, we sunk beers and provided our American comrades with a crash course in Aussie culture via the Vegemite test. Surprisingly, they didn't mind it! Later into the evening, as the beers took hold and people peeled off to bed after a long day, we were joined by a 20-year-old Californian college student named Natalie. Little did I know she would soon become one of my new favourite people and fearless travel buddy. Within minutes of arriving, she too was forced to try Vegemite and smash beers and overcame both tests admirably.

A guide leads a group on a ghost tour through Zurich’s magical streets,

Tuesday morning was a lazy one for me, but before long a new group of explorers had formed. While we had sadly lost a few overnight, we were joined in the morning by a crazy German girl named Jacky and an Aussie expat named Sam enjoying the last few days of her Euro working adventure. I took an instant liking to Sam, who wields the f-word better than any Australian I’ve heard in a long time. With a carefree attitude I was coming to love about hostel life, Sam and Jacky joined myself, Tim #2 and Natalie on a daytime walk through the Christmas markets and later through town, where we spent too much money on Swiss chocolate, glanced at Swiss watches we'd not afford in a lifetime, drank expensive hot chocolate in a wonderland of a café and laughed with (and at) Jacky as she bossed her way around Zurich in that upfront and defiant German-style.

A group of schoolchildren dress up as elves and sing Christmas carols on a giant Christmas tree. The cutest!

After Monday’s foggy conditions, the skies cleared up and Tuesday afternoon gifted us a glorious sunset in what soon became an enthusiast photographer’s dream. Wonderful colours of green and orange enveloped Zurich’s buildings and were reflected in its central canal, and we all become mesmerised by its beauty and snapped away happily. It was one of those moments in life when I was just thankful to be around awesome people in a stunning little part of the world. Zurich had been too good to me, but it was time to move on.

The canal that runs through Zurich’s Old Town as a lovely sunset baths the historic buildings in golden light.

Tim fills up his water bottle in one of Zurich's fountains, which pump water straight from the Swiss Alps.

It’s funny how things work out. I had been wanting to hike somewhere in the Swiss Alps, but having little idea of where to go and no-one to experience it with, I was preparing to give it a miss and head east towards Austria. Then fate stepped in. By chance, Natalie was headed solo towards the Swiss Alps and suggested I come along so she’d have a travel buddy. With precisely zero concrete plans for the next three months , I agreed and almost exploded internally from excitement. After a final wander through Zurich at night and a sad goodbye to new friends, we were on a train to Interlaken!

It’s impossible to sum up the next few days in words and photographs alone. The Swiss Alps are something you have to experience for yourself. Until you’re on the side of a mountain breathing that impeccable fresh air or gazing over the ridges yourself, you can’t grasp it. It’s special. It’s spiritual. It’s timeless. It’s unique. Interlaken was basically a dream from start to finish. Within a minute of stepping off our train in freezing Interlaken, I touched snow for the first time. Natalie laughed at my schoolboy excitement, but I couldn’t hide it. It seemed real now!

The next few days were an awesome whirlwind of experiences with a gem of a friend. We were staying at the world-famous Balmers Hostel, which is usually a party mecca but was an absolute ghost town when we arrived. That suited us fine, because we each got our own room and some much-needed downtime. Balmers was a timber labyrinth that resembled The Burrow, the Weasley’s house in Harry Potter. It was a maze of little nooks and crannies, extensions heading off in every direction, crazy little features like a hammock room and a jacuzzi, a games room and - without a hint of exaggeration - the worst shower I have ever used. You had to hit a button every 9 seconds (I counted it) to keep the water running or it would stop and momentarily revert to cold. It was nonsense, but we didn’t care at all. We were in the Swiss Alps! We capped off the night with a game of ping pong in the pitch darkness of the gaming room, and headed to bed full of excitement ready to tackle the alps the next morning.

The view of the Swiss Alps from a little vantage point on the way to Wengen.

Anyone who has spent time around me knows I hate mornings more than most things on earth. The reason why Natalie and I clicked - besides her love of the great outdoors, her Labrador-like appetite for food and her unashamed bluntness - is because I finally found someone who hates mornings even more than I. Better still was finding out she takes even longer to get moving than I do. Despite agreeing to be up and ready at 9am, we both happily emerged from our rooms just before 10 ready to start the day bright and early.

On the agenda was a hike somewhere in the nearby alps. We teamed up with another Aussie named Sean (seriously, Aussies spread like a venereal disease in Europe) who was well and truly in over his head. Our newfound trio got the train to Lauterbrunnen, a picturesque alpine town perched 700 metres into the alps. Lauterbrunnen was almost devoid of any signs of life at this time of the year, and eventually, we harassed a local man who suggested a hike to Wengen. Challenge accepted.

To get to Wengen required a steep 90-minute trek up enticing green slopes that were bathed in sunlight. It was about 3 degrees outside but within minutes I was down to a t-shirt and absolutely joyous. The air was thin and icy and it was tiring but this was living. Natalie powered up the mountain alongside me while Sean heaved and struggled behind us. We didn’t care, because it gave us more opportunities to gaze out at the unfolding landscapes below us. Pictures did it no justice.

As we neared the top, we stopped at a grassy prairie that resembled a location from The Sound of Music. The snow-capped mountains loomed majestically in every direction. Without a word, we all plonked down, found our own space in the grass and relaxed. I stared up at the sky with a smile on my face and contemplated my journey to this point. Four months ago, I was stuck in a directionless long-distance relationship, in a job that stressed and frustrated me, in a Brisbane bubble that I hadn’t even realised needed to be popped. Now I was deep in the nature of Switzerland, sprawled out in the cool grass of the Swiss Alps, free as a bird and sharing the moment with an American sorority girl and a relative stranger from Melbourne probably regretting his decision to tag along. (Okay, that last detail could have been a bit more exotic, but life can’t always be perfect.) I did my best to soak up every moment.

Natalie, my trusty comrade and sleep-in enthusiast.

Our trio made it to Wengen after stopping every 30 metres to take photos, and then explored the little alpine village on foot. Wengen is primarily made up of hotels and chalets and pubs and souvenir shops and basically exists to service the well-off tourists that populate the mountain throughout the ski season. December is off-season and the town was basically empty besides a few shops and bars, but that served us fine. We celebrated our hiking success first with cakes and gingerbread and then sat down at a bar and downed hot apple cider and nachos. I, for one, was utterly high on life, and I could tell Natalie was too. That day is going to be hard to top.

As night fell, we enjoyed some solitary downtime for a few hours and then Natalie and I headed out for beers, cider, disappointing Irish stew and D&Ms about life and love at a nearby Irish pub. Like I said before, this Cali girl (she loves that description…) smashed all the stereotypes of what I’d expect of a 20-year-old college student from the States. A psychology major, Natalie had spent the past 3 and a half months studying abroad in Sevilla and was nearing the end of her soiree in Spain before heading home for Christmas. She was fitting in one last trip and chose Switzerland knowing full well her love of nature and hiking would be well-catered for in the Swiss Alps.

A few beers in, I gave her the full and nasty version of what prompted my Europe jaunt, and she listened attentively. Once I’d finished, she joked ‘And now you’re here, drinking beer with a 20-year-old.’ Yep, life sure had changed. She then offered her own insight into why she thought my previous relationship unravelled like it did, and it was something I hadn't considered. Astonishing really, considering the time I had invested in contemplating it in those first difficult months. Her insight was a sobering moment because in that dinky Irish pub, I was having my perceptions of life – and the world itself - challenged, tested and mostly obliterated. And I loved it. As I was coming to realise however, Natalie was selling herself short though by describing herself as just 'a 20-year-old'. If you had told me there was a more switched-on, empathetic, intellectual, grounded, self-aware or layered 20-year-old around right now, I’d call you a liar. And she hated Trump too, which was nice.

As we wandered home, we came across a group of fellow Balmers’ residents preparing to hit the town. At 11pm in Interlaken that left us with precisely two choices, and so we soon found ourselves back at the Irish pub doing shots effortlessly paid for by an arrogant navy officer from California. The group also contained a weed-smoking blonde Swiss girl already drunk on mulled wine, our poor hiking buddy Sean, a sharp-tongued, Trump-supporting navy officer from New York and Liam, a hippie from Utah who was probably one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. The night ended where all good nights should end… around a ping pong table in the darkness. While Balmers had attempted to stifle our drunken stupor by turning out the lights, we Macgyver’d the situation and lit the room with the torches of all our smartphones. Quality.

The cocky, arrogant Californian navy officer challenged me to a game of one-on-one ping pong. Being shipbound for a lot of his life, he confidently told me he practiced and played a lot. Righto mate. I destroyed him. Twice. He hadn’t been beaten in a long time, and I swept him away with ease, backed by the enthusiastic cheerleading of Natalie who foregoed any loyalty to her home state and backed the plucky Aussie over her fellow countryman. Afterwards, we teamed up for a game of two-on-two against the Cali boy and Trumpy and she almost single-handily wiped them away 21 – 2. We were chuffed with ourselves. That day couldn’t have ended better.

Yet Thursday matched it. Even though we both couldn’t really afford it, we decided to YOLO it and book a kayaking experience of Lake Brienz, the catchment for much of the alps. In -3 degree weather, we dressed in colourful penguin suits and were soon gliding along the brilliant blue water of surely Europe's most stunning lake. Supposedly, the water is so clean that you could drink it no problems. Incredible. We were completely surrounded by the snowy peaks of the Swiss Alps, and when the sun eventually climbed out of its slumber and blanketed the lake in sunshine, it was heavenly. An incredible moment in life. We both silently soaked it up, and I noticed Natalie at one point lying back in her kayak, eyes closed, face pointed to the sky, completely at one with nature and the beauty of the moment. That captured how we were both feeling.

One of the best experiences of my life, and I got to share it with Natalie.

We took a short pit-stop and walked up to explore the Schadenburg Ruins, all that remains of a 13th-century castle that once overlooked Lake Brienz. The ruins are climbable, and once you make it to the top you have uninterrupted views of the lake and the alps in the background. It was truly, ridiculously beautiful.

Our time in Interlaken was coming to an end, so we paddled back to shore and were soon on a bus headed towards the hostel to collect our bags. Natalie had a train to Basel to catch, and I was planning to head east towards Austria. But after such an incredible few days together, neither of us were quite ready to say goodbye. When she suggested I tag along with her to Basel, I didn’t need much convincing. Before long, we were snacking on lollies and peanuts and wistfully saying goodbye to the alps – and an incredible few days - as our train sped away leaving only a pale outline of the mountains in the sky behind us.

Ah, Basel. Nothing really went right for us here, but damn did we have a good time failing. Basel, unlike other parts of Switzerland and most of Germany, is not all about providing free wifi. So when we arrived at the busy and grimy Basel Central Station with only an address of our AirBNB and nothing else, it's fair to say we were stranded. Though we had no way to contact her, our plan was to meet up with Gaia, a 21-year-old Canadian nomad Natalie had met a few weeks prior. Reliably, Natalie approached a stranger and soon commandeered the stranger’s laptop so she could work out what to do next. We eventually found our way to the apartment and were soon chatting to Gaia and sharing Natalie’s four-day-old, unfrozen microwave meal while sipping Bacardi and OJ. What could go wrong! Our plan was to hit up the Christmas markets, so we set off, got lost almost immediately, and ultimately forked out for a taxi. Once we did get there, we tucked in to mulled wine and whisky and eggnog and I watched as the girls giddily toured the markets like wide-eyed kids. We ate deliciously expensive chocolate, bonded around the fireplace, snapped selfies, took the piss with the free dip samples and fell genuinely in love with our Christmas mugs. Mug check!

Afterwards, our trio went in search of a bar. After happily (and drunkenly) wandering the streets of Basel, we settled on a German establishment, ordered beer, and shamelessly ate pretzels left behind by the previous occupants of the table. Life, eh! Still hungry but too cheap to pay for food, the girls egged me on to go and grab the last remaining pretzel that had been oddly left hanging from a stand on a shelf nearby. As I executed my snatch and grab, the damn pretzel got stuck on the wooden stand and my plan was foiled. I slinked back to my seat in defeat while the girls laughed like hyenas... until a family of six started giving us very stern looks. We’d failed to realise the pretzel belonged to the family, and they’d only placed it on the shelf to make room on their table. Not my finest moment.

The mishaps continued. We’d been told about an awesome club called The Garage, so we set off to find it. After wandering for 30 minutes, we finally found it… well, where it should have been. The lights were on, so I walked in only to view construction workers and painters busily preparing a new place. At 10.30pm, mind you. It was now called P, and looked quite promising inside for anyone thinking of heading to Basel in future…

Defeated, we spotted a tiny cable car nearby that had been refurbished into a private lounge complete with a fireplace. Without contemplating the consequences, we snuck in, closed the door behind us, and huddled around the fireplace to warm up like squatters. Our game was soon up. One of the restaurant employees flung open the door, asked us what the hell we were doing, and said quite politely ‘You can’t be in here, this is a restaurant.’ With that, we conceded it was time to head home. Basel, you win.

It was now Friday, and finally time to say goodbye to Natalie. She was headed back to Sevilla and I was on my way to Nuremberg. We caught one final tram together, and then parted ways with a big bear hug and a vow to catch up the next time I was in the States. It was a happy but awfully sad moment. Happy because I’d made a great new friend with whom I’d created so many amazing and silly memories. Sad because I’d shared some of the most exhilarating experiences of my life with her and now our whimsical journey had come to an end. We’d only known each other four days, but we’d crowbarred so much into those fleeting hours that it felt like so much more.

I had spent most of the last week saying goodbye to people like Rick, Luis, Tim, Brenda, Sam, Nathaniel, Jacky, Anjeli, Livvy, Clare and Natalie #1 and it’s never easy. They all have an effect on you in some way, even if just for a moment. But Natalie felt like my little sister and travel Mum all in one, and I didn’t realise until she had gone how much I relied on her companionship and her ability to get by in strange and unfamiliar places. Who else could I count on to have an entire sackful of food at the ready? Who else will make me exotic peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on a train using a piece of cardboard in lieu of a knife? Who else will help me dominate on the ping pong table in hostels? Who else will know precisely what I'm thinking with nothing more than a tap on the shoulder or a look? Who else will be self-aware enough to know precisely when I need my space and be happy to sit in wondrous silence? Who else will confidently ask strangers for directions or to use their wifi when we’re lost and have no idea where to go? Future travel buddies have a lot to live up to.

I had an 8-hour bus ride to comprehend the emotions of the moment. For the first time since I left Australia, I felt alone. I felt homesick. I felt isolated, and somewhat unsure of whether I was cut out for this lifestyle. I longed to hear the sound of a familiar voice or even one in a familiar tongue. It was a strange compilation of emotions I’d never really encountered before. I don’t normally miss people, and I normally revel in my independence and solitude, but not now. Simply, I was sad to say goodbye to a great friend. The uncertainty of whether it may be for the last time just compounded it.

And yet that is the beauty and the curse of backpacking solo. Every day without fail, you meet people living the exact same lifestyle as you. For those few moments, you are on the same wavelength, living in the moment, creating amazing and unique memories together. And then your paths lead in different directions, and they are gone. In almost all cases, you will never see them again despite those awkward promises to stay in touch. As a sentimental soul, I feel the brutality of that separation more than most.

Yet it has also quickly taught me to live in the moment, and appreciate what I’m doing while I’m doing it. As I walked the streets of Zurich with Sam, Tim, Jacky and Natalie on Tuesday I remember thinking how much fun I was having in such a wonderful place. As I gazed out over the Swiss Alps on Wednesday, I took a moment to appreciate the unique beauty of the moment. And as I admired Lake Brienz from the tranquillity of a kayak on Thursday, I realised just how lucky I was to be where I was, and experiencing it with new friends.

It’s too soon to know whether this trip will deliver the kind of existential epiphany I was seeking when I booked it. Two weeks in, I don’t believe it will. But in the space of those two weeks, I’ve done more living than I have in a long, long time. If that’s all I take away from this three-month journey, it will be enough.