Hotel Mel is still open for business

That's right everyone. Although this hotel is barely standing--the construction is insane right now--my room is still my room and visitors are welcome! However, I am sorry to say that this weekend is fully booked because (drum roll please. . .) Chels is coming to visit! It was a last minute decision, but I couldn't be happier, which is why I am doing anything and everything to keep myself busy for the next four hours until I'll be jumping on her at the airport. I know that this visit is coming at the perfect time for both of us for a variety of reasons that I will not bore you with here. And even though the sun isn't shining (that seems to be a common occurrence every time I have people come to stay) and there isn't much to do this time of year that doesn't include locking oneself indoors and watching movies all day, I couldn't think of a better person to do that with. I have I feeling we'll have plenty to talk about.

And just because, here are some of our finer moments caught on camera.

Oh, and one note. . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD! Love you zillions!

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." -MIRANDA JULY, No One Belongs Here More Than You.

"Delight in the wonders of this land"

I finally found my place, and I suppose I found it a while ago, I just didn't realize it at the time. Those of you who know me well know that I have a thing for the ocean. For me, standing at the edge of the world and looking out to an endless sea of blue, anything feels possible. Any worries or fears or nagging questions I may have evaporate into the air, and a comforting calmness comes to take their place.

Unfortunately then, the one thing that Switzerland doesn't have (other than a Trader Joe's) is the ocean. Yes it has mountains and lakes and rivers and valleys that are all beyond beautiful, but the facts stand. No ocean. However, (I'm sure you saw this coming. . .) Switzerland has a treasure of its own: the wine terraces. And they are unlike anything I've seen anywhere else in the world.

I've been to Lavaux three times in the last week. With the sun shining, a view of the mountains and lake below, I couldn't think of any other place I'd rather be--in this country that is. And I've noticed that when I go walking through the vines, looking out at the rippling lake brings back those same feelings that I used to have sitting on the sea wall in Mission Beach. My toes may be buried beneath layers of socks instead of in the cold, wet sand, but that sense of freedom, of calmness, of being home again. . . It's all there just as I remember it.

Espesses, my starting point.

Straight ahead is the town of Rivaz.

The village of St. Saphorin.

Quoted (from the little signs posted along the paths through the vines):

Heureux Dezaley, dit le poète, qui a trois soleils pour mûrir ses raisins!

• Le soleil d'en-haut, ardent et généreux;
• Le soleil d'en-bas, réfléchi par le miroir du lac;
• Le soleil des vieux murs de pierre qui restituent pendant la nuit la chaleur accumulée durant le jour.

(Translation)

In the words of the poet, fortunate Dezaley (type of wine) has the triple sun to rippen his grapes!

• A sun from above, generous and warm;
• A sun from below, reflected by the mirrored lake;
• A sun retained in the old stone walls that release the warmth throughout the night.

* * *

There's no better place and time

than here and now

to pause and rest a while

to meditate and to ponder.

Delight in the wonders of this land

Marvel at the magic splendor

of vineyards, lake and mountains.

Relish the promise of spring,

of budding love and of nature's bounty.

Speak of lasting friendship

and celebrate life

mirrored in a glass of wine.

"The best things in life are the people we love, the places we've been, and the memories we've made along the way."

(For once, I'm going to leave the commenting to a minimum and just say thank you to Nick and Nat for sending me this quote, and for Carleigh, Shan, Nat, and Heather for reminding me how true this statement is. Love, love, and more love.)

"Here comes the sun, do do do doooo..."

(Written 20.01.10)

Today the sun finally came out from its cold hiding place and brought with it the sparkling signs of possibilities. As much as I wanted to stay in bed all day watching Gossip Girl reruns and wallowing in my loneliness, I finally dragged myself out of bed, showered and headed out to the vineyards for some fresh air and a fresh perspective. And although I didn't just snap back into my normal happy self, I did feel a sense of awakening that brought promise for the coming weeks.

So then what changed? What got me out of bed and into the real world outside of my hotel room? I'll admit, I was all about self-medicating by taking obscenely long naps and indulging in loads of Swiss chocolate (okay, I suppose it could be worse). But then I just got bored. I'm not kidding. Being depressed is boring and hopeless. Seriously, what's the point? You feel worse about yourself, about your actions or lack there of, and all motivation goes sprinting out the door. But I guess there is a point to feeling that way because it makes you realize how great it feels to be happy, to go out and do things, to put your effort towards something you care about. But it's not easy, and to be honest, I don't think it should be. Life is about choices. Sometimes choosing to be happy isn't so simple. Life gets in the way and makes things complicated. But if you can come out on the other side of that with a streak of happiness still left, a hope that life will get better, that's what counts. Yes, I am aware that my funk is nothing compared to what travesties other people deal with every day, but in the larger scheme of things, isn't the process to recovery almost the same?

I'm still pulling myself out of my bout of depression day by day. Thankfully, the sun is still shining, warming me up from the inside out and making in near impossible to just stay inside when so much beauty is just sitting there waiting to be found. So here we go. Another day filled with possibilities, and another chance to lighten my heart a bit more. How could I resist?

So this is what it feels like to be alone again

(Written 17.01.10)

Four days ago, my life suddenly got a lot quieter. And as much as I try to welcome the silence that I used to find comforting and peaceful, now it just feels like a void--and a gapping one at that. I forgot what it was like to be surrounded by the people you love, and those who (fortunately) love you back. And now that they're gone, everything seems less thrilling, less exciting, less colorful. I don't mean to be a downer, but for the first time I'm here to admit that I miss home. Home as in the States. As in my family and my friends and all those little things that Switzerland just doesn't offer.

I think back to when I first got here. Sitting on the train to Montreux from Geneva, listening to Pete Yorn and watching as the light faded into the dark behind the mountains. I was so excited. Everything and everyone ahead of me was new and that feeling of uncertainty filled my stomach with a myriad of multi-colored butterflies. Yes, I was nervous, but the best kind of nervous when you know that everything you think you know about yourself is going to change. And as much as you try to prepare yourself for what's ahead, all you can really do is take a deep breath, trust yourself, and dive in with everything you've got.

And that's what I did. Of course, I had my moments of near drowning in a language that seemed so foreign to me when I first arrived, but I eventually found my words and the confidence I needed to keep myself sane and happy. And it really wasn't until December that I felt something missing in the life I'd been living here. Maybe it was the Christmas market curse . . . Seeing all those families walking hand in hand and groups of obnoxiously loud teenagers up to who know's what and couples that are so cute that it takes every bit of self restraint not to just push them into the lake. And then there was me and my faithful Nikon, weaving through it all and trying not to think about the things I missed from a holiday season at home. But still, knowing that Car and Shan would be here so soon distracted me from any of the homesickness I may have started to feel.

However, now that the girls are gone, the loneliness has finally found an opening and snuck its way in. I'm just scared of how long it's here to stay. I want to be motivated. I want to go out and do things. I want to keep discovering. But--like I used to say as a teary-eyed, overly sensitive little girl--it's just not the same. And to be honest, I don't want it to be. If anything, I know now more than ever that being close to the people I care most about is what makes me the happiest. And it has nothing to do with feeling comfortable or safe or secure, though these things may matter more to other people. Instead, it's knowing that I'm the best version of myself when I'm with them. It's knowing that even life's most ordinary and mundane tasks--like going to the bank or grocery store--become another adventure when you're together. And it's the laughter. The constant, genuine, bottomless laughter that seems to put everything back into perspective again.

Yesterday, in hopes of further distracting myself from the rain and my own self pity, I watched the latest corny, teenage drama titled "Post Grad." You know, the kind of movie that usually ends with some sentimental voice-over about the power of love and friendship and whatever else it is that teens find so inspiring. Well, if you didn't already know, sometimes I'm a sucker for corniness. And of course in my current state of mind, the single defining line of the movie, said by one gorgeous Brazilian man, totally got to me. He says,

"I guess I finally realized that what you do with your life really is only one half of the equation. The other half, the more important half really, is who you're with when you're doing it."

I didn't even try to hold back the tears. It would have been a lost cause. I've struggled so much with this idea of distance, of being so far away from my loved ones. But really, what's the point? I know certain circumstances require moves and you can't always be next door to the people you love, but if you can be closer, if you can make it happen, what's there to stop you?

I know that I needed this. I needed this time away to see myself clearly and to reevaluate the things that are most important to me right now. Maybe it is time for me to close this chapter of the Swiss adventure and start a new one back in the States. Maybe these stupid German papers that I've been waiting for are a sign that it's time for me to dive in all over again, to keep this unknown adventure as thrilling and exciting and uncertain as it was when I started it over six months ago. To surprise myself yet again, because that's what makes life interesting, that's what makes me feel alive. I might not be closer to knowing where I'll end up or what I'll be doing there, but I have I feeling I know who will be close by. And for now, that's good enough for me.

Road tripping, Swiss-style

Ah, the open road! Windows down, feet resting on the dashboard, coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, chocolate (lots of chocolate), and belt-it-out-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-kind-of-music blaring from the speakers. This road trip was so not like that. Well, minus the chocolate part and bathroom breaks. We listened to the same CD approximately 100 times over the course of two days and had our seat warmers on full blast nearly the entire time because the temperature barely raised above 0 degrees Celsius.

But considering the fact that Switzerland is smaller--much smaller--than the state of California, I'd say that we did well for ourselves. And our beloved silver station wagon, Skoda, was a real trooper in the ice, snow, rain, everything. Parting ways in Montreux was no easy task, and I know that I'm speaking for all parties when I say that there wasn't a dry eye in the parking lot. Skoda, we will always have you in our hearts.

So then, where did we stop? What did we see? Who did we meet? Well, to make things easier, I figured, why not include a handy little map so you can also learn a bit about this small but seriously impressive country. Okay, directions: the red line is the train route the we took from Montreux to Zermatt and then Zermatt to St. Mortiz. Then the blue route is where Skoda laid her tracks, all the black dots in between being the places that we stopped to walk around.

In only two full days on the road, we experienced the joys of French/German/Italian-speaking radio stations playing awful American music, came upon at least five closed mountain passes, went through 30 tunnels easily--some more than 20 km long, mastered the art of the European round-about, lost and found a camera, got stuck behind an enormous tour bus on a tiny mountain road where passing was like a death wish, and hit only one curb (my bad).

And thinking back to all the little villages we passed and the lakes and mountains and snow we saw, it was a spectacular drive. It may have been slightly non-traditional by American road trip standards, but the pit stops and the photos and the laughter and the company made it one for the ages.

Just getting started. It was so cold that the anti-freeze windshield wiper fluid was freezing anyway. Wait a minute. . . That doesn't sound right. Exactly my point.

Driving into Ticino, the Italian canton of Switzerland. Ticino definitely wins the award for having the friendliest residents. Oh, and also for people who stare the most blatantly. Who knew that three blonde girls in a silver station wagon would attract that much attention? I know that we smile and laugh a lot more than most people, and that we were all wearing brown UGG boots and North Face fleeces, and carrying cameras like armed weapons ready to shoot at any moment. But really? Is all that staring necessary?

The castelgrande (translation: "big castle" . . . bet you couldn't figure that one out!) in Bellinzona dates back to the 6th century. WHOA is right!

Taking a break in the sunshine above the city of Locarno. This was the first (and only) time the temperature went up to 3 degrees. OMG is right. For a minute there, it felt like San Diego or something like it.

After walking around aimlessly and starving in Locarno (not a good combination), we settled on pizza which we took to-go to make sure that our car didn't get towed. Now, I say this next statement in complete sincerity. . . It was the best pizza I had EVER tasted. Absolutely orgasmic. If only they delivered to other cantons.

Family portrait in Valle Bavona, a deeply cut valley that runs North from Locarno. Because the mountains rise so high above the valley, the stone villages that are settled down below get no direct sunlight from November to February and are therefore uninhabited during the cold--okay, freeeeezing-- winter months. With the dim lighting, grey stone houses, and snow covered trees and streets, the setting was eerie, like out of an old black and white horror film, thankfully without the drama but maintaining all the intrigue and mystery. It was one of the coolest places I've ever been to, and I can only imagine how incredible the valley must be in the spring time when the river is raging and the wild flowers are blooming.

Prepping for our second day on the road at the bed and breakfast in Locarno. Cozy, warm, and comfortable, it was heaven!

Diving through a mountain somewhere in Switzerland. The tunnels were intense and started playing tricks on my eyes--not such a great thing when you spend about half the day driving in concrete caves. One suggestion: don't even try to hold your breath going through these babies. * * *

So our Swiss road trip was ultimately a success, though another CD would have been a great addition. But hey, you can't have everything. And although I would have thought that hearing those songs would make me go absolutely crazy, it actually has the opposite effect. I can't help but smile and get immediately transported back . . . Alexi Murdoch's melancholic voice fills the silence, his lightly strung guitar singing the song of this road. Leaning against the cold glass, I stare out the window letting the sunshine hit my face and I wonder which road I'll decide to take next. Where will it go? How will I get there? I may not know for sure, but if I have these two people close beside me, well then I know it's going to be a wonderful adventure.

The Glacier Express, a.k.a. train to the North Pole

I read about the Glacier Express a couple months ago and had been wanting to climb aboard ever since. However, seven and a half hours on a train (and that's just one way) is not something that I was anxious to do by myself. So when Car and Shan and I were planning our whirlwind tour of Switzerland, we thought, why the hell not take a train through glaciers in the middle of winter?

And since the train ride officially starts in Zermatt, we figured it was the perfect excuse to see the Matterhorn in all its glory before taking the epic train ride across the country. And epic it was! My handy dandy brochure expertly outlines the train ride adventure, so here you have it:

The highlights include the imposing Rhine gorge, the mountain lakes in the 2033 meter high Oberlap pass, and the views of the 'Valais 4000s'. . . The daring route of the train line in the Albula valley, the 291 bridges, the 91 tunnels, and last but not least the viaducts make up what is still regarded as a masterpiece of railway technology.

Masterpiece? Umm, yes. With panoramic windows that allow you to literally see the sky above you. Not a single view is lost. Well, that is unless everything is covered in a thick duvet of snow. At times, it honestly felt like we were taking a train ride through some deserted part of Greenland or Antarctica. Even though everything we passed was white, it was absolutely breathtaking.

And in typical American fashion, we had plenty of things to keep us busy along the route including a deck of cards, cameras, snacks, chocolate powder and amaretto (ingenious, I tell you!), and two very nice Brazilian boys that we met the night before at out hostel in Zermatt (they decided to forgo a day trip to Bern and took the train with us instead). The trip was long, indeed, but thankfully the weather was spectacular, and the company, well, it was just about as good as it could get. Ooo! And I almost forgot to mention the most important thing! Every time the "doooong!" went off (that's code for some annoying electronic sound over the intercom), we'd plug in our complimentary ear phones and listen to the trivia of the particular place we were passing. Isn't that just the coolest thing you've ever heard of?!?! I will admit, however, that by the fiftieth and sixtieth time that sound goes off, you'll be ready to fling your headphones against the glass ceiling, hypothetically speaking of course.

So then, here are some of our best moments caught on camera. If you can't tell, we made ourselves at home and drove most people out of our train car due to our loud and oh-so-witty American banter.

Only the beginning. Giddy and photo happy, we were ready for action!

The icy branches of these trees shimmered magically in the sunlight, as if they were there merely for our viewing pleasure.

Snow much? I can only imagine how beautiful this valley must be in the spring. Mountains still covered in snow and lush green meadows and wildflowers blooming below. Sigh.

Our Brazilian boys, brothers actually, from Sao Paolo. Ivan is on the left and Leandro on the right. They were excellent travel companions and occasionally found us very entertaining. For example:

Ivan: "Hey, I think she might speak Portuguese."

Carleigh: "What? She smells like burnt cheese??"

Case in point.

For future reference: if you like hot chocolate, you will LOVE it with a dash (or healthy serving) of amaretto.

Final stop: St. Mortiz, home of the first and now ritziest ski resort in the Alps. For this reason, we decided not to spend the night here and took the train back to Chur (pronounced "huuuuuuur"), but not before an unexpected jog along a frozen lake in -1o degree Celsius. You know how rail travel is so awesome in Europe because the train station is always in the middle of the city? Apparently, not in St. Moritz. Hungry and too cheap to buy food on the train, we asked a conductor how far the Coop would be. "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes that way," he pointed. So we shuffled along in the freezing cold and realized that it had taken us over twenty minutes to get to the grocery store. The problem? Our train was leaving in twenty minutes and we hadn't even bought food yet. We booked it and made it back with time to spare, but only because we were running, icicles forming on our sweating foreheads.

Sadly, once we got to Huuuuuuur, we had to say goodbye to newest friends, Ivan and Leandro. But we exchanged contact info and are already planning our next trip to Sao Paolo. At least we know that the snow will not follow us there. (But I may keep my fingers crossed just in case.)

Zermatt: In photos

Destination: Zermatt. Claim to fame: the original Matterhorn (sorry, the one at Disneyland is not quite the same). Allotted time: about 18 hours. Enough time to snap some photos, discover the little ski town, make some new friends, and get a taste of the après-ski scene. I'll admit, it was a charming little village. But Verbier, you'll always have my heart. And perhaps a shred of my dignity as well.

Posing with our new friend the Matterhorn before nearly freezing to death en route to our hostel, which of course was up one steep snowy hill. However, the view from our window and of the glorious Matterhorn made the trek worth every slippery step.

Ugg love!

After dropping our stuff off at the hostel, we went for a long walk around the residential area near our hostel.

Then we got bored and found the only frozen playground in Zermatt.

Baby steps. . . Baby steps. Then the nice man still holding his skis and poles expertly skated down the hill between us. On his ski boots. We are so not from around here.

Freezing, yes. And beautiful? Uh, yeah. I guess so.

And one final note. . . Zermatt was definitely worth the trip if only to see the Matterhorn and the charming, car-free town. (Fact: there are literally no cars allowed in Zermatt--only small, golf cart-like things that the locals use as taxis or for maintenance purposes.) And get this: on the ski mountain, 60% of the runs are covered in fake snow (!!!). So apart from its cute wooden chalets and village-like feel, Zermatt lacks a certain Swiss authenticity that other mountain towns have. The heavy flow of tourism is undoubtedly at fault (yes, I consider myself a guilty contributor), but I understand the appeal. With a mountain as impressive and famous as the Matterhorn (thank you Disney), who would pass up the chance to stare as such a Swiss icon?

Mountain retreat

Waking up to the snow covered Swiss Alps every morning does not get old. Trust me. You think you'd get used to it after five days, but no. And since the weather changes so quickly, so do the views. One minute the sky is a grey canvas of clouds, and the next, snowflakes the size of small white feathers are fluttering down from above. Then out of nowhere the clouds glide away and the sun comes out making everything look fresh and clean and new again.

Verbier really is a magical place, especially when you add in the trendy yet casual nightlife and the fun-loving people. And to say that Carleigh and I went picture happy would be an understatement. We had one photo session that left us nearly frozen. Trying to get photos of the hillsides and mountains at night requires a lot of patience, which at -10 degrees Celsius is not so easy to summon. We quickly realized that being outside for any longer than ten minutes at a time literally leaves you speechless. Your face and cheeks get so cold that it becomes difficult to talk clearly. Thankfully we understood each others' mumbling well enough to communicate. Sentences get shorter, nodding becomes more prevalent, and eventually talking seems to dwindle altogether. Hmm. . . Maybe that's why the Eskimos developed so many different dialects.

So then, if you haven't already fallen in love with Verbier, here are a few more photos that just might do the trick. Oh, and did I mention that there are many fun, cute, and single English guys roaming the city and slopes? Yeah, just a random sidenote.

Car aiming for the perfect angle of the rising full moon. Sadly the moon was too bright to really capture.

Yes, this photo is real and 100% unedited. This made my frozen toes, face, and hands all worth it!

Sun rising behind the mountains. Doesn't it look like the sky is blushing?

A day on the slopes

Climbing up a mountain in a dinky tin-like gondola with wind and snow and clouds may not be the best way to pump up a ski novice's confidence. But that's how it started. Dreary and cold and grey, we were slightly disappointed that the sun had decided to sleep in for the fourth day in a row. However, after the first run--which was slightly shaky I might add considering that I hadn't been on skis since I was ten--the clouds started shifting. By the time we reached the top of the mountain again, an unearthly world had opened up before us. Clouds rising up like mountains beyond mountains, and snow sparkling like millions--okay, billions--of tiny polished crystals that had magically settled atop the piercingly white pistes. And even though the frigid temperatures were both mind and body numbing, the views from 2600 meters left me speechless. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

You know when you have those moments when you keep saying to yourself, "Am I seriously here right now? This cannot be real. No way. It's just not possible." Then you pinch yourself and realize how lucky you are to be exactly where and who you are in the very moment. Well, since I couldn't pinch myself on account of the layers and layers of clothing I had on, I went ahead and decided to trust the dream-like reality and enjoyed every minute of it.

We skied for about five and a half hours and only gave in because we couldn't handle the cold any longer. Losing digits wasn't really a part of the day's plan, and we still had the après-ski scene to attend--which I might add is just as important as skiing itself.

And it was one of the last runs down the mountain, with the swooshing of skis against powder in my ear and the thrill of speed pounding in my chest and pulsing through every limb, that every doubt and hesitation still clinging on to me fell away. All that was left was the sound of my breath, the beat of my heart in my chest, and the feeling that I could really do anything.

It wasn't until we were gliding up the mountain 50 feet up in the air, four pairs of skis dangling and cheeks red from the burning cold, that the beauty of that moment really hit me. I suppose sitting on a chair readily lift lends itself to some minutes of quiet reflection. Suspended high above the intensity below, the silence is cleansing. I smile in gratitude for having the opportunity to be here with such great company. And as the slideshow of memories plays through my head, it's interrupted by the contagious laughter of my four rosy cheeked companions. Sigh. What a beautiful day.

Travel itinerary

So here is where I will begin: the itinerary of the shenanigans from the last two and a half weeks. December 28th to January 13th. Sixteen days (the last day doesn't really count) of exploring (outside), lounging (inside), and laughing hysterically everywhere in between.

Dec. 28th: Airport pickup. Much jumping, yelling, and smiling involved. Picnic dinner (the first of many) on my bedroom floor.

Dec. 29th: A day walking around Montreux. In the pouring rain. We braved the wetness for a while and eventually retreated indoors to drink wine. At 4pm. A quick trip to the train station to pick up Heather, and our party got a little bigger.

[Photo from Carleigh]

Dec. 30th: Morning in Lausanne. In the pouring rain, again. Natalie and her warm car came to our rescue in the early afternoon, and we headed back to Montreux to pack the car and drive up to Verbier, a.k.a. mountain paradise.

Dec. 31st: It was a late morning in the studio apartment. Breakfast around 2pm, movies, and birthday songs for Shenanigans. We pushed the small dining table up to the window facing the mountains and gathered around for what was one of my favorite moments of the entire trip. A fondue feast (thank you Natalie!), lots of cheers-ing with champagne, and a glorious sunset against the mountains. Then came the New Year's debauchery. It. Was. Nuts.

Jan. 1st: Another late morning. While the girls recovered, I spent the afternoon and evening with Andy, Anne and Yann walking around dressed in an 80s one-piece snow suit and sitting by the crackling fire. With little motivation, we happily stayed in that night.

Jan. 2nd: Skiiing, skiiing, and more skiing! It was a success, despite the minor bruises and falls that we accumulated. A final dinner in the studio and a short night last night out at Atelier before falling into bed nearly unconscious.

Jan. 3rd: All packed and ready, we bid farewell to our mountain retreat and spent a quiet day in Montreux. With the help of my elves, I moved on down to the fourth floor--the only floor currently open to clients in the hotel.

Jan. 4th: Day trip to Bern, the capital of Switzerland. Though I'll be honest . . . It was not my favorite city. Cold and dreary and less charming that Zurich or Lausanne. But I suppose that's normal if it is the governing capital. And the freezing temperatures did not help.

[Photo cred Car]

Jan. 5th: Heather left us and we headed off to Zermatt, home to the infamous Matterhorn. And guess what? It was ridiculously cold there too. Thanks to enough glüwein (vin chaud), we managed to stay warm--or barely warm enough.

Jan. 6th: The grand Glacier Express. Just do me a favor and google it. This seven and a half hour train ride is Switzerland's best, and thanks to the clear blue skies, the scenery was dramatic even if every inch of it was covered by several feet of snow. Made it to St. Moritz in time to freeze all over again and turn around to Chur where we stayed for the night.

Jan. 7th: And the road trip begins! From Chur to Locarno and into the deeply cut valleys that are virtually deserted this time of year, we spent the entire day on the road, only stopping again in Locarno to find a bed and breakfast when we were too tired to continue.

[Photo cred Shan]

Jan. 8th: Supposedly it only takes three and a half hours to drive across the entire country of Switzerland. However, when you account for three closed passes, mountain roads, and HUGE tour buses and are nearly impossible to pass, it may take you about seven hours. Or longer. However, it was an impressive drive to say the least, and Skoda (our beloved station wagon) made us proud.

Jan. 9th: Off to Heidelberg, Germany! And thanks to my wonderful friends, we changed train plans into car plans and took Skoda across the German border so that I could tag along. We held our breath crossing the border, but it was a success! Heather gave us a lovely tour of the city including a night out to get a taste of student night life. And Germans who seriously cannot dance. But don't worry, we showed them how.

[I'm pretty sure that Heather took this one, but I was too busy dancing my ass off to be exactly positive.]

Jan. 10th: Two words: blueberry pancakes. It was heaven. We eventually left Heather's apartment to see the castle that looms over the city, and shared a very German meal by the river.

[Photo cred Car]

Jan. 11th: Back to Montreux, but not without making a quick stop at Gruyères to pick up meringues and cream for dessert. We finally said goodbye to Skoda and dedicated our last night in Montreux to drinking wine and watching Gossip Girl.

Jan. 12th: My first day of work, which was painfully quiet. Took a walk with the girls in the sunshine along the lake and relished in the change in weather. Trained to Geneva where we spent one last romantic night together at Natalie's house. A lovely family dinner of spaghetti and salad, followed by complete exhaustion.

Jan. 13th: Four am wake up call and more snow. Natalie, Shan, and Car dropped me off at the train station where we said goodbye (for now) and I caught the 5am train to Montreux to make it in time for work. Sadly, the girls got snowed in and put up in a hotel right outside the airport, but hopefully by the time they read this, the second attempt at traveling will have been a success.

So that's it. The bare minimum. But trust me, there is much more to tell, which is why I will be post-happy for the next week. Hope you're ready!