And as in all situations there are hiccups. Today we travelled to Montreux and as we gathered to find our bus for Chillion one of the men in our group realized he had left his suitcase. Our tour guide helped him know which trains to take to retrieve his suitcase and how to get back to us so we could continue on our way. Then a woman in our group panicked as realized she had left her bag with her wallet and passport on the train. Our tour guide suggested that she might have to go to the American Embassy to get her passport loss resolved but first giving her directions to find where the train had stopped to see if she could find her bag. I have to say that I cannot believe she was not carrying her bag! I never let my bag/passport out of my sight when I am traveling!
I was amazed that both of them made it back with their bags, including the passport, after only a delay of one hour. I have to hand it to our tour guide who navigated the crises smoothly. With 41 people in our group it must often have seemed like he was trying to corral cats. But hats off to him! he handled it all very well.
Then it was on to a bus to Chillon Castle which is on a small island on Lake Geneva just out side of Montreux. What a beautiful building! But what a sad place! The dungeons really tore at my heart. It is hard to imagine being kept there. My heart ached as I saw the scratches on the pillars obviously made by prisoners of long ago.
Lord Byron wrote a poem called "The Prisoner of Chillon". I bought a little book with the poem and a history of the castle. I have to say he was a wordsmith. There are a few lines of the beginning of the poem:
My hair is grey, but not with years,
Nor grew it white In a single night,
As men's have grown from sudden fears:
My limbs are bow'd. though not with toil,
But rusted with a vile repose,
For they have been a dungeon's spoil.
And mine has been the fate of those
To whom the goodly earth and air
Are bann'd, and barr'd - forbidden fare;
I suffer'd chains and courted death;
But this was for my father's faith
That father perish'd at the stake
For tenants he would not forsake;
And for the same his lineal race
In darkness found dwelling-place;
It is very long poem and made my heart sad. But Byron had an amazing talent.
Then back to Montreux where we wandered along the lakeside watching the set up for the Jazz Festival. Sadly it was not on our timeframe to attend but I would have loved it. But sculptures, buskers and lots of people were along our way.
After finding some lunch we met up with our group and trained to Visp, changed trains and then onto Zermatt.
The Zermatt train station was teeming with tourists - coming and going. So many luggage carts! So many suitcases in a rainbow of colors. There are NO vehicles allowed except electric so little vehicle traffic. We walked a couple of blocks to our hotel and were gratified to find our suitcases waiting in our assigned rooms.
After checking in, a short walk took us to a church for our first view of the Matterhorn. It seemed the clouds were determined to hide its magnificence.
We grabbed a taxi and shared with some friends so it only coast us 10 Swiss pounds each - still rather pricey. We had been told that it would take us to the 'meadow' where we could get a better view of the Matterhorn.
That evening we wandered the street, looking at shops and eventually found a nice Italian restaurant where we ordered our dinner. We ate outside since the weather was nice but sadly a group smokers came to the table to my right. I put up my jacket to try and block some of the smoke. I was actually surprised at how many smokers we came across of this trip. Not so much cigarette smoke to deal with in America thankfully as I really do not enjoy the smell.
Later a walking tour of Zermatt learning about some of the history, about the tragedies involving mountain climbers and about the snow fall.
My turn to hold the flag :)
After our final dinner our Grand Tour was finished. We said "good-by" to our travel companions and went our separate ways.
