16 October 2012, Bernina Express, Switzerland

16 October 2012
Bernina Express, Switzerland

I will add a final note on Milano. We had a kitchen. And where ever we have had a kitchen, Wesley shops and cooks. And when he does, it is the best restaurant in town. He has a knack for blending in quickly with the local ingredients and flavors. At the markets he shops like a native. He wants that zuccha. And those Mallorca prawns. No, not that red pepper, that one. And those chantarelles and that chorizo.

Whether it is Spain, Italy, France or Germany he masters their home-cooking in a flash. In Milano, we ate at home a few times and it was, the best ristorante in town

From Milano we boarded a train. It traveled north and paralleled Lake Como for about an hour. Oh, I neglected to mention, while Roland was with us, and since we were so close to the lakes, we thought Roland should experience Lake Como and took him on a day trip to have lunch on a hillside terrace in Bellaggio. The weather forecast threatened fog and rain, and both ocurred, but for a few hours and during our lunch it cleared into a glorious day and we ate ourselves silly, Roland especially so (his three plate prix fixe was like three lunches) and took in the vista of Lake Como and the granite-topped forested mountains illuminated by rays of sunlight.

So, as I was saying, we are on our train. Going north. Watching Lake Como through the west windows. At the north end of the lake the train turned to the east. The terrain changed. Now, we are in a long grassy valley. Red terra cotta roofs give way to gray slate whose mica flakes glitter in the sunlight. The color palette of the structures is white, beige and gray. They flow up the hillside and are low profile, except for the village church--seems to be only one per village--which has a wildly tall steeple, without windows or a bell atop. Austere and icy like the snow topped granite above. And there are vineyards. Not vast expanses like in Barolo, but long narrow ribbons, like hiking trails, sidling up and down the mountains. That area, do not hold me to this, is known as the Veltlin.

In we have arrived in Tirano. Lunch time. It is still Italy, but this town speaks German. It is a border of sorts where the Italian train line ends and the Swiss line begins.

After a quick lunch, we board a Swiss train for a special journey up and up and up, over tall stone-arch bridges, around one-hundred-and-eighty degree turns, past villages so beautiful and green and hilly with cows wearing bells nursing their young and sheep in the meadow and sunshine and blue skies, thatched roofs and the tall church steeple, it is the kind of place that comes to mind when you are little and in bed and a kind and gentle voice reads you to sleep with, "once upon a time....."

The Bernina Express is a special first-class train with spotless panorama windows. There is so much window, it seems the car sides and half the roof are entirely glass.

Here is an "at the moment" account of the train ascent from 1 one-thousand feet of elevation to seven-thousand feet.

We are on special equipment for challenging high altitude terrain. It is the Rhätische Bahn, the Bernina Express. The route is a UNESCO World Heritage site since 2008. We are approaching Poschiavo. A winding river flows with bottle-green green.

Glacial. Hikers walk on the banks. The grade is, so far, gentle. Now, there are cows in the meadow, mamas and babies. At the Poschiavo Station we are at three-thousand feet of elevation. Continuing on there is an expanse of meadow that rises to forest which rises to granite and snow caps.

Horses in the meadow nursing little ones. High up the steep face of the mountain are occasional houses. They look impossible to access and entirely isolated. Must have tremendous vistas. Our train twists and turns. We are in the back watching the front of the train make turns so extreme like the cat twisting back for it's own tail. The train is sleek and agile. Around each bend is a new valley with a village. On the left. Then on the right. Back and forth.

 We have reached our apex, two-thousand-two-hundred and fifty-six meters (over seven-thousand feet). The peak above us, Bernina, is 4,049 meters (abt thirteen-thousand feet). It is a Continental Divide. From here the rivers part going to the east and to the west to different seas. The snow is dense. Anywhere else this would be an intense winter scene. Here it is just a normal autumn. Now, on our left are glaciers and lakes and streams and dams and the sun is brilliant. As remote and cold as it is, a Saab convertible, top down just whizzed past us. Otherwise, not many people up here. Three hours into our ride we have stopped in Pontresina for an eighteen minute break. Outside of the train it is winter. Hats, gloves, parkas, snowshoes. Really cold, but sunny and clear sparkling light. Two weeks ago, we were in summer swimsuits dunking into the Mediterranean. Then eating grapes off the vine in autumnal Barolo.

The joys of travel. See the world. Hear the languages. Feel the climates. Eat the food. Drink the wine. Absorb the history. Interact with the citizens of the world. A tremendous education it is. Back on the train, we are entering a tunnel, one hundred and eight years old, six kilometers long--three and a half miles. And now, the prize for greatest vista of the trip goes to Filisur. Flanked by mountains with pines on the steep slopes. All dusted with fresh snow. Green valleys. Plateaus. Narrow, curving lanes. Steeples. Small glacial lakes with emerald water. Speaking of emerald water, the prize for best river goes to the Albula River.

A moment ago as we entered Thusis, the train crossed a stone bridge, quite tall; the river, far below, was a curvy snake of jade-color water. Our destination tonight is Chur (pronounced: kur). We will be there within an hour. We have come to Switzerland, in part, so we can visit with Raul in Basle tomorrow night before his Casino concert. Wes has made this trip before--same train, same hotel--and has been keen on sharing it with me. I am elated. It is all so beautiful. Tonight we will stay where he stayed last time. Aside from the tremendous setting, the hotel has, at breakfast, a meusli station where you spoon your choice of grain into a machine which converts it into flakes which you then dress with yogurt and fruit. I love muesli.

Magnificent is the only word for this day.

Marlow and Wesley
16 October 2012
Bernina Express, Switzerland
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