All things must pass

In theory, the focus of this blog isn't "what I did while my parents were in town," but rather "let's make fun of Switzerland," so with that in mind, this will (for the most part) be my last post about my parents visit. Fortunately, it involves a good deal of Swiss oddity, so I think everyone will be happy.

Let's see, last we left off we were watching community musical theater in Rennes. After that, we drove down to the Loire Valley, checked out a troglodyte community, went to a couple of castles, and saw a huge swath of the French countryside. Our final stop in France was the former Roman town of Autun. If you are in Burgundy, I recommend stopping in Autun: it's a neat little town which still has it's original Roman wall, an awesome Romanesque cathedral, and ruins of an impressive Roman temple outside the walls. Although the most famous part of the cathedral -- the tympanum -- was closed off for restoration, you could still see the awesome capitals from the original columns in the front.

Fig. 1: This one goes out to all my Harry Potter peeps. Y'all know who you are.

Fig. 2: A capital from the cathedral in Autun depicting Cain slaying Abel. OK bible experts, I bet you didn't know that Cain did it by shooting Abel with an arrow! In the neck!!

Autun was our last night in France, so after nine nights en France, we finally headed back to the welcoming bosom of Switzerland. At this point, we only had a couple days before my parents had to head back to the states, and I felt as if they hadn't really had the true Swiss experience. As any real Swiss person could tell you, if you want to see the real Switzerland, you have to go to Valais.

The canton of Valais forms most of the southern border of Switzerland with France and Italy. The name comes from the French word vallée and, indeed, Valais consists largely of the impressively large Rhone River valley which carves its way through the Alps. Although there are a couple of fairly large town s on the valley floor, most of Valais consists of small towns tucked way up into small alpine valleys. Due to the weather, geography, and history, these villages tended to be quite isolated and the people of Valais are therefore known for their rugged, independent nature. Serge described it to me as "like the Texas of Switzerland," which I don't think is entirely true or false. At any rate, it is one of the most scenic parts of the whole (quite scenic) country and it is filled to the brim with traditional, Swissy things. The most traditional and most Swissy of which is, without a doubt, fighting cows.

Fighting, yes. They ram up against each other and butt horns until one gives. Cows, yes. The female of the species is more deadly than the male, or at least more into butting horns. Known as Le Combat des Reines (the combat of the queens), every year the cow herders of Valais bring their strongest Herens cows together to determine which will be crowned La Reine des Reines. Not at all bloody or cruel, like Spanish bullfighting, Swiss cowfighting is a much more family friendly event. The big matches are held in the spring, but during the summer, there are a series of "scrimmages" called Inalpes, in which roughly a hundred cows are put together in a large pen and allowed to challenge each other as they please. Although the top cows don't typically compete in these, they are organized so that cow herders can determine which of their queens might have some potential for the next year's big event. Fortunately for my parents, an inalpe was scheduled for their final weekend in Switzerland. So, we woke up early Saturday and piled in the Skoda for a trip to Valais.

Although I didn't admit it to my parents at the time, I really had no idea exactly where this event would be held. Since it is held on a small alpine pasture, high up in the mountains, it is hard to put the location into the GPS. The internet instructions just told you to aim for a small valley near Sion and then just follow the signs from there, so that's what we did. From Sion, you take a narrow, barely 1.5 lane road up the mountains to Nendaz. From Nendaz, we took a nearly 1 lane road to Siviez, where we finally saw a sign for the Inalpe, which would be at the alpage of Tortin. From Siviez to Tortin, it was a narrow, rocky road/path up the mountains. Here is a picture of one of the nicer parts of the road, near the top:

Fig. 3: Not pictured: lots of cars parked directly on the road, traffic going in both directions. Nearly everyone else had four-wheel drive. I had a Skoda.

This picture really doesn't do it justice, but at least you get an idea of how wide it was. Normally, a road like this wouldn't have been too much of a problem for the mighty Skoda, but of course things are never that easy. As there was no real parking lot anywhere, most people just decided to leave their cars halfway on the road wherever they found a convenient spot. This meant that at many points, you had only about half a lane to drive on and your outside wheel would be going along big rocks, creek banks, mud, etc. In a couple of really idiotic attempts to park the car on the side of the road, I manage to get one (maybe two) wheels up into the air and it was only my Steve-McQueen-esque driving skills that allowed me to escape unscathed. Driving back down the mountain was even worse, as by that point there was a considerable amount of traffic going in both directions which meant a lot of stopping and backing uphill to let someone pass. Frequently, we would have to fold our rear-view mirrors in so that someone could sneak by us. I think the whole experience took about two years off of each of my parents lives in grief. Sorry, Mom and Dad.

As bad as the drive there and back was, I'm sure my parents would agree that it was worth it for the sheer thrill of seeing the majestic beauty that is the Valaisian fighting cow. Just look at their faces!

Fig. 4: He may not look all that happy, but deep down he's thrilled to be so close to such greatness.

Fig. 5: As it was almost 80 degrees at sea level, I assured my Mom that she would only need a light coat. Unfortunately, it was a bit chillier at altitude than I predicted. Nanook, here, survived the cold admirably.

In our final days, I also took the parents to some much more conventionally Swiss things. Here's me and Dad in front of the famous "lion" statue in Lucerne, the touristing capital of Switzerland.

Fig. 6: Me and Dad in front of the famous "dying lion" sculpture in Lucerne. I don't know when it happened, but sometime a few years ago my Dad turned into a teenage Asian boy and refuses to smile for pictures. Way to look rough, Dad.

And, of course, no trip to Switzerland is complete without a visit to the man.

Fig. 7: I want to start a folk story/urban legend saying that unless you take your picture with Freddie Mercury, you'll be doomed to never see Switzerland again. Kinda like the three coins in the fountain thing, but Freddie-Mercury-based.

That's all for now. Coming soon: who knows! I'll post something when I get the urge. Odds are good that it won't be parent-related (sorry Mom and Dad).

No one wants to see your pictures of Château Chillon

Since it is unlikely that you (dear reader) are a professional photographer, allow me to give you some photographic advice: no one wants to see your pictures.

OK, that's not entirely true, but trust me, it's true of most of your pictures. Let me rephrase: no one wants to see your pictures unless there's someone or something they love in them.

This, I claim, is almost universally true. Certainly, somewhere in those gigabytes of photos is an artistic, wonderfully captured gem, but odds are that most of them are boring photos of buildings, trees, and fuzzy landmarks. This is especially true of vacation photos. Do not take a picture of the street your hotel is on. Do not take a picture of your hotel from the outside. Do not take a picture of the corridor your room is on. Do not take a picture of the entrance way, the bathroom, the bedroom, and the view out the window. The only thing these photos will do is bore everyone to whom you show them and or provide a chain of evidence for the police to recreate your last known whereabouts.

Obviously, the solution to this problem is to include your beloved friends and family in every single shot possible and in every conceivable way. That impossibly tiny bathroom will look even tinier with all your friends crammed inside, and that lovely view from the window will make a nice desktop wallpaper if a dozing loved one is in the corner. As for those blurry shots of the Birth of Venus, the Eiffel Tower at night, and Cellini's Perseus; well, just let them go. Buy a postcard if it was really that beautiful.

All of this can be especially difficult to do if you're traveling by yourself, but being creative and waiting for a good shot will usually produce worthwhile results. That said, I went to Château Chillon and Montreux the weekend before last and took some pictures.

Fig 1: Courtyard, Château Chillon.

Château Chillon is famous not only for being a truly badass castle (parts date from the 12th Century) but also for inspiring a famous poem by Lord Byron. Interestingly enough, Byron apparently had about as much respect for the 12th century masonry as your average wannabe gangsta has for a freeway overpass and thus felt free to carve his name into one of the columns -- something which only like a million people have done since. Fortunately for literature and vandalism enthusiasts, his mark is well preserved.

Fig. 2: Lord Byron wuz here.

Just for team D&D, here's a picture of a display inside the castle of the various types of pole-arms available. Without consulting your manuals, how many names can you come up with? What sort of damage do they do against medium and large creatures? Do you feel any sense of shame in knowing this?

Fig. 3: Halberds, glaives, guisarmes, glaive-guisarmes, etc.

A brief walk from the castle is the picturesque, over-priced resort town of Montreux. A bit of totally true history regarding Montreux, regarding the hideously ugly new Casino on the waterfront, from The Rough Guide to Switzerland:

[It] replaced the grand original, which opened in 1883 and was burned to the ground on December 4, 1971, during a concert by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention. During the show, someone let off a rocket-flare, which set the ceiling on fire; everyone got out without injury, but the building continued to burn all night. Ian Gillan, lead singer of the band Deep Purple, who were holed up in a hotel nearby, watched the flames leaping into the sky and was thus inspired to write his seminal rock classic "Smoke On The Water."

Most importantly, though, Montreux was the home for many years of one of the greatest musicians of our time. The writer of "Theme to Flash Gordon," "Fat Bottom Girls," and many other hits, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the one and only Farrokh Bulsara, a.k.a. Freddie Mercury!

Fig. 4: F. Mercury et al.

A legend in Montreux, Freddie liked the town so much that he bought a recording studio and a house there, where he enjoyed the "kindness and discretion of the townspeople," according to the statue. September 5 and 6 of this year are "Freddie Mercury Montreux Memorial Day" and will feature symposia, fashion shows, cover bands, a cappella cover bands, and tons more, so book your tickets now.

All in all, Chateau Chillon and Montreux are certainly worth a day trip from Lausanne. Just remember to bring your camera!

Future updates: pictures of my current residence (I need to take them during the day to really capture the ambiance, but I've been busy lately), complaints about Swiss business hours (short summary: no one works around here), and who knows what else. Probably more complaints.