Bern Baby Bern

At the commencement of our jaunt around Central Europe, if you had asked us which country, we were most looking forward to exploring it would have comfortably been Switzerland. With such lofty expectations, we made a swift beeline from our previous nation of Luxembourg, through a great swathe of Western France and the cities of Metz, Nancy, and Mulhouse to arrive at the gateway to the Alps in the city of Basel. Extremely excited for our first taste of Swiss life and neutrality we abandoned Vishnu in nearby Germany and caught a fast train through their invisible border to Switzerland’s third-largest metropolis.

Split by the vast Rhine River, Basel is divided into two distinct sections with the majority of its historic sights and noteworthy buildings on its southern shore, which we duly trammed to. Needing a shot of energy, Lowri made the critical error of purchasing an almond latte from a nearby Starbucks before checking the price and received all the energy she needed when discovering how much it had cost. A pricy lesson that we should have learnt from Luxembourg, we certainly wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and for the remainder of our time in Switzerland, we shopped around, haggled, and bartered akin to young Del Boys and David Dickinsons.

Basel is primarily known for its religious buildings and, as I love a nave and a presbytery perhaps more than the next man, these constructions were where we spent the majority of our morning. Following a photo shoot of one particularly atmospheric cloister that wouldn’t have looked out of place at Hogwarts we stepped into the adjoining church and continued snapping. Undeterred, but slightly surprised by the large number of people lining up at several food stalls inside we joined the queues in the hope of procuring some Chalkidiki olives marinated in oregano or perhaps a few grams of Gruyère as the austere look of the market would surely reward us with a few culinary steals. Unfortunately, it took an inordinate amount of time for either of us to realise we were stood queuing for a food bank. The bewildered looks of the locals while I was happily shooting their quaint church market suddenly made sense. We quickly retreated.

While the naves of Basel are a draw for some, it is the venerated, mountainous Swiss hinterland that attracts most and so we pointed Vishnu towards some hills and followed the increasing sound of cow bells into the peaks. We stopped at the hamlet of Alchenstorf when it was clear that all Swiss stereotypes would be met, the Emmentaler vending machine in the square was a dead giveaway, and beheld our preposterously perfect surroundings under a pure Alpine sky. A jog the following morning to the nearby town of Koppigen did nothing to diminish our awe as we passed countless picture-perfect homesteads laden with flourishing flowers and fields of farm animals curious as to why anyone would be running past their homes. Although it was less run and more loiter in wonder.

Despite our complete contentment to remain in Alchenstorf for the excess of our lives, we were aware of more wonders further south although to reach them we needed to pass through Switzerland’s unheralded capital: Bern. Often mistaken with Zurich or Geneva in pub quizzes the country over, Bern is indeed the capital city despite maintaining a smaller population than either primarily because of its geographical location close to the centre of the country, which has served the Swiss extremely well in remaining intact during times of war. We caught another rapid, punctual, and wildly exorbitant train to the centralish station and began our battle with the vast tourist hordes and day-tripping travellers.

Or so we thought as the city was almost completely empty and about as silent as a Swiss crypt. No car horns or boisterous market vendors were to be heard with an almost complete absence of humans altogether, perfect. We wandered the old city, which is almost entirely encircled by the river Aare akin to how the Thames girdles the Isle of Dogs, stopping at its two main attractions: an intricately decorated clock tower, quelle surprise, and a cathedral of great magnitude. More eye-catching than either, we believed, was the view over the aforementioned Aare from the highest point in the city which appeared dazzlingly beautiful given the fortunate weather conditions we were continuing to experience. Long may it continue as we delve deeper and higher, much higher, into the core of the Swiss cheese truckle.

J