Die Sweiz

I think it is a tad ridiculous that countries have different names for the same country.  This only makes it confusing for everyone.

When I moved to Germany, I realized that, yes indeed, they call their land Deutschland. Perhaps I had heard this at some point, but I didn’t really know it until coming here. Why doesn’t the U.S. call it Deutschland? 

Another prime example: In Germany, they further the hatred of all South Americans and Canadians toward the already egocentric U.S. when they call the U.S. Amerika.  (In case my fellow “Americans” are confused, the Canadians and S. Americans are all Americans.  They like us to say we are U.S. citizens, as it otherwise sounds like our country is the only one that really counts over there.) When I take over the world, there is going to be only one name for each country, and everyone will call it by that name. This will lead the way toward world peace.  

Except for maybe the South Africans, who have a committee whose entire job is to invent new Afrikaans words for words that develop (like, internet).  That’s right. They grasp into thin air, create a word that, to them, sounds like a good ole Afrikaans word.  I think it would be a fun job. I mean, don’t we all come up with our own new words sometimes? http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/news/2010/07/100721_palin_nh_sl.shtml

Back to die Sweiz, Suisse, or Switzerland.  Some friends and I took a road trip to an area called Villars.  My friend had studied there for a couple of months and wanted to see her old stomping grounds.  I had heard so much about that time in her life (along with another good friend of mine) that I was excited to see it.  Her husband came along and we hopped in the car.  Off to Switzerland!

Switzerland is one of the prettiest places on the planet.  The cities seem to have been intentionally built around the Alps in such a way that one sees nearly every Swiss Alpine mountain when driving or getting from town to town.  There are so many villages on lakes with the picturesque church and looming mountains in the background, one starts to wonder—why do I not live here?

After a couple of days at L’Abri (the refuge), and hiking up one of said beautiful mountains, we traveled back to Interlaken to pick up my husband. Near the quaint town of Interlaken is a place that I hope you all get to see some day, Gimmelswald. We took a side-excursion from our long drive home to take the gondola up to the top of the mountains there.  Geez-oh-man!  There we found retired folks who now make the aged Alpine cheese that goes to the 5-star hotels, fresh beef jerky (I don’t even like that stuff, but I tried it and really enjoyed), and sweet Swiss mountain people who wave to each other and take walks daily along the top of the mountain.  We even met the cheese man, Hans, who retired from being a NYC banker after 4 years and moved back to his homeland. He now sells the freshly made Alpine cheeses to 5-star hotels, and was a delight to meet!  He told me to bring some cheese back to “Angela” (Merkel) for him.  Pictures are definitely better than words here, so, without further adieu…

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