The hills are alive

There's no doubt that when you look at a map around these parts you think, 'Oh, that's just a short walk. A hundred metres or so.' But when you actually translate this, the reality feels very different. It usually involves a 45-55 degree incline at some point, which has the potential to throw even the most rugged of walkers off schedule.


Which is why I was pretty impressed today when I managed to get the kids to school, jump on a train, discover a large hill in a nearby town which had to be scaled in order to attend a German class which was cancelled, run back down the hill, jump back on a train, run back up the hill home again, and all before 9:45am.

A Dear English Pal said to me on the way to a choir rehearsal: 'When I moved here I had to learn how to walk hills.' I suppose it's not something the Hausfrau's family were used to after the Limestone Plains. But how amazing the hills here are, and it's no wonder we see people out walking in droves on the weekends.

Prior to our excursion in the footsteps of Sherlock Holmes we spent the day at the Ballenberg outdoor museum in the rolling hills of the Bernese Oberland. If I hadn't been on a few other Swiss adventures I might not have believed how Swiss it all was. (OK, I may have said, 'Out of control,' a few times, but not many.)


Ballenberg is comprised of differently designed houses which have been shipped in from all over Switzerland, from various different cantons. The overall effect was one of idyll and vitality as we wandered through smoke houses and animal pens and herb gardens, and peeked into recreated scenes invoking lifestyles of simplicity without the modern clutter of such paraphernalia as [looks at floor next to computer] Lego and Euro 08 stickers.

After lunch in the courtyard of one of the more Italian-region- of-Swizerland-style villas, during which we were amused to see underwear flapping in the breeze on the second floor balcony, we continued our journey through time and place, finishing up at the local chocolate-making shop where the Hausfrau was compelled to try a dark chocolate with creamy lemon filling. (Sounds palatable, but tasted disappointingly like disinfectant.)

I have to say that in Brienz there were literally hundreds of these old style Swiss houses. A woman who appeared to be enjoying her rustic Swiss balcony saw that we were disappointed that the local violin-making workshop was closed. She had a conversation with DM and promptly made a quick phonecall which resulted in one of the violin builders appearing to let us in and show us around the workshop.


The view from the workshop windows was inspirational and, I'd have thought, ideal for the creation of musical instruments.

I admit that while we wandered through cow-slips and daisies in Ballenberg I'd been half expecting to see Julie Andrews' yodelling head appear as she skipped from behind a nearby hillock. But, at that point, I was entirely happy to settle for a spot of classical violin and the hollow clang of cow-bells.