A Short Stop in Switzerland

This time last week I would have been writing to you with this view before me:

Buildings with Mountains in the background
The view from Gilles and Claudia’s flat.

That’s the French Alps you see in the distance, and it’s also the view from my dear friends’ apartment in Lausanne, Switzerland. I landed in Lausanne on a Thursday afternoon, and by Sunday was making my way to Lisbon, Portugal. The time in-between, however, was far from wasted.

Since the three of us were free to adventure on Friday, we rented a car and headed to Gruyères and nearby Broc. Our plan was to take in some nature in Broc, then visit the H.R. Giger museum while also perusing the medieval town of Gruyères where the museum is located. It was a great plan for the day, and we kicked if off with some coffee in Broc.

Espresso with cream
I usually don’t take cream with my espresso, BUT this cream is made with the same milk that’s used in Gruyere cheese. When in Rome.
Landscape sign pointing out mountain peaks
These signs are all over in local towns. They point out the mountains in view and their respective heights (in meters).

Our hike was nothing short of amazing. The trail, which closely followed a river, sat at the bottom of jagged, striated rock walls on both sides of the water. These elements allowed for spooky caves to venture through and beautiful bridges to cross. The ascent culminated in a view of a large dam and reservoir for us to admire.

A river running through rock
The river nestled between the rock.
Rock
Check out the striations.
A cave to walk through
A spooky cave awaits.
Bridge
We walked down and across this bridge. The scene felt straight out of a film.
A dam and water
Gilles, Claudia, and I take a breather at the dam.

Despite the jaw dropping beauty at every turn, what most appealed to me was the signage placed at critical points in what seemed like backwoods areas.

signs
There are no roads for cars in sight, but there are plenty of signs pointing out how to get around on foot.

The Swiss are a walking folk, so hiking 6 kilometers then strolling (that’s a lie, the Swiss don’t stroll, they walk like any good New Yorker might) several more to the next village isn’t a stretch.

We American, French, and German folk are not Swiss, thus at the end of our hike we opted for the bus back to the car. Along our short bus ride, I noted a few people walking the area, and a quaint, cozy feeling came over me. It was just so cool to see people living in and walking through seemingly remote sites as if it they were in a bustling city. It shows a level of trust and community, and a oneness I think.

Winding trail
That trail you see in the foreground leads to a house… not kidding.

Back at the car, we made our way to Gruyères and the museum. As you can imagine, the sites were still amazing. The museum itself was impactful. For those that don’t know H.R. Giger is the creator of the Alien films. The museum showcased these and other works of his, as well as his private collections. His work is extremely detailed, but also houses a great deal of balance of machinery, humanity… and the occult. Did you know Giger drew a Tarot deck? Nor did I, dear reader. Nor did I.

What impacted me the most, however, was my imagining his frame of mind. I asked myself if someone who created such arts, and had such successes with them, was happy. Or were they so driven to create a world, or so tormented by their imaginings, that they never found peace?

Welcome to Gruyères
The sign welcomes us to Gruyères.
Gruyères
Gruyères Streets!
Church
A view from the Gruyères Castle

Experiencing these beautiful places and the delicious treats they offered was lovely, but it was nothing in comparison to what my friends and I did throughout the day and later that night (and for the rest of the weekend, really).

We talked to each other. Lovely, enriching, detailed, adult conversations were had. Not once did a television screen go on (I don’t think they had one, actually). Not once did we allow ourselves a chance to be distracted. Instead we shared and debated and learned from each other. It was my version of heaven.

The inspiration only continued on Saturday when we met a friend and walked down to the Lausanne market. We picked up goods for the dinner we were making that night (Tarte Flambée or Flammekueche, depending on your heritage), one of the most important being cheese.My friend tried to acquire this cheese no less than 4 times before succeeding. (It should be noted there were cheese stands throughout the market, but the best cheese purveyor had quite the line in front of him most of the day. Finally, the line died down and we were able to purchase… what can I say… you have to love the French and their love of quality ingredients.)

We spent the afternoon walking through the Olympic Museum Park, then along Lake Geneva, again talking, sharing, connecting. Then the friend returned for our dinner, and we spent my last night in the city debating our profession and other highly important topics (which I honestly can’t remember, but I’m sure they were important).

Olympic Park
This is a view of the Olympic Park. You can see the flame in the middle which burns year round. The lake in the background is Lake Geneva.
Tarte Flambee with onion
One of the two we made that night. This was the more traditional recipe.

When I woke up on Sunday, I was sad to be leaving, but I was also happy in realizing I had learned my lesson, and because I was much more invested in manifesting a great time in Switzerland, a great time was had.

I said goodbye to my friends at the train station while sincerely hoping to see and talk to them again soon. I then turned into myself, considering the month ahead in Lisbon… but that is for another post.

Experiencing Oneness

Being in New Mexico has brought a new thread to my reflections. After leaving the magic of the Gila National Forest, I drove North for El Morro.

I should mention that before I actually LEFT the forest, I took some time to explore the nearby Catwalk Trail. A friend came through this area not too long ago and told me it was worth a stop. After driving through several small brooks on the way up (NOTE: the heavy rains cause a lot of runoff apparently. I thought I was in the desert, but I was way wrong.) I pulled in to the area about mid-morning.

Gila National Forest Sign
Entering the Catwalk Trail.

I noticed three motorcycles parked in the lot, the only vehicles around. As I walked to the trailhead I saw their owners, 3 older gentlemen reading about the history of the area. I asked them, “What’s the word on the road?”

“Which road?” one of the men responded.

The three of us chuckled and I told them of my travel plans for the day. They were taking a similar route North, but were planning on splitting off back into Arizona instead of heading East like me. I bid them safe travels as I began walking the 2 mile trail.

Brook
I enjoyed walking along this brook a bit.
Gila National Forest Mountains
I couldn’t stop looking up at these mountains as I walked.

About .5 miles in a deep fear gripped me. What the hell was I doing walking this trail alone while leaving my car unattended in the parking lot and filled with all my important belongings? I practically ran back to find Liam safe and sound just as I had left him.

I got in the car, then continued the trip north, stopping for lunch at a cafe about 45 minutes away. (NOTE: this was the only “local” restaurant open.) When I walked in, who did I see but the motorcyclists. “Well, you made it this far”, one of them said to me. “And, so did you!” I replied.

This was my last interaction with them, but I still felt connected to them in a way I can’t yet describe. I left the cafe with this sensation.

Several hours later, after passing maybe a total of 10 other vehicles along the way, I arrived in the El Morro area. Here I would be staying at another amazing AirBnB rental. This time I would be in an RV parked on a property with some amazing views.

RV
Where I stayed during my time in El Morro.
View of mesa
View of the mesa from the RV.
Sunset over the mesa
Sunset view from the RV.

The owner, Jeff, met me and showed me the RV. He was concerned with me staying warm given that the temps were supposed to get down to 27 degrees Fahrenheit that night. I assured him I’d be fine. We talked for several moments there after, and the feeling I had earlier that day when I was around the bikers returned.

I had a sound night’s sleep, then woke up for a morning of meetings. When these were finished, I set out to hike the El Morro National Monument. I arrived at the site, and, since I hadn’t done much research beforehand, went up to the visitors’ center to figure out a game plan. The park ranger greeted me, gave me a map, AND provided me a guide to the inscriptions left on the famous Inscription Rock.

NOTE about the rock from Wikipedia: Travelers left signatures, names, dates, and stories of their treks. While some of the inscriptions are fading, there are still many that can be seen today, some dating to the 17th century. Among the Anglo-American emigrants who left their names there in 1858 were several members of the Rose-Baley Party, including Leonard Rose and John Udell.[3] Some petroglyphs and carvings were made by the Ancestral Puebloan centuries before Europeans started making their mark. In 1906, U.S. federal law prohibited further carving.

Front of the visitors center.
Approaching the visitors’ center.

I took a few moments to peruse the small museum attached, and upon entering saw this sign:

Pueblo prayer
This quote got me.

Immediately tears flooded my face. I have no idea where from or why they appeared, but I accepted them and kept walking.

I decided on the longer of the two hikes available at the park. I would see both the Inscription Rock trail, as well as hike up to the pueblo town dating back to 1275 A.D. It would be a longer hike than I anticipated, but I had time so why not? Here are some images from the day.

Inscription Rock
The side of inscription rock. I was in awe!
Top of the rocks
The top of the rocks I would eventually hike too.
Looking up at the monument. NOTE: the black bits are from water that runs down the sides.
High rock wall.
A view looking up from the side of the rocks.
petroglyphs
Check out the ancient petroglyphs!
inscriptions in rock.
See how there is an inscription from 1801. Pretty amazing.
petroglyphs
More petroglyphs and inscriptions.
cactus bushes
The fauna of the high desert.
Stone path
Notice the lines which mark the path. Apparently they brought a jack hammer up to create a trail. Crazy right?
Mesa in the distance.
More views of the surrounding area. Hell yeah I hiked up this high!
Canyon views
A view down into the canyon.
Brick ruins
This is only a fraction of the city they uncovered. People lived there from 1275 – 1400 AD.
Stone ruins
Looking at the ruins from another angle.
Circular stone ruins.
Another part of the city.
Stone ruins
I loved looking at the mesa in the background and imagining life here all those years ago.

As I arrived at the ruins of the town, I noted my isolation. I thought about how I had just climbed alone up the backside of this mountain, then somehow navigated my way across the rocks to this very spot where about 1500 people lived some 750 years ago.

The feeling from the interactions with the bikers and the AirBnB host appeared here again in this sacred feeling place. I took a look at the feeling more closely. I asked myself what it was. A whisper of an answer appeared in the back of my consciousness:

Oneness

At that moment I saw flashes of human life fly across mind. The people who lived here, the bikers on the road, my housing host, me; no matter how different our lives seem, we are all made from the same atomic elements, the same biological tissues, and the same sacred spirit. Our perceptions and beliefs may differ, but we all need to eat, drink, and sleep to stay alive. Those who lived hundreds of years before us needed the same things. How amazing. How humbling.

I stood alone with this clarity for several moments before hiking my way down, then heading back home. When back at the RV I witnessed one last sunset as I reflected on the day.

Sunset over the mesa.
One last sunset to amaze me.

As I thought about it I asked myself; If we’re all one, was I really standing up at that site all alone?

My answer? No, I don’t think I was.