When the cows come down, the people party

28 Sep

28 September 2024.

On the streets of every village are traces of the alpabzüg, the annual descent of the cows from mountain grazing pastures (alps) to the valley villages and towns. The cows and their people take the same routes every year, some of which are the very paths hikers use. It is a big deal and a steady rain after is welcome, at least by me, to remove those telltale streaks. A cow must do what a cow must do, and hundreds have made the descent in the past few days.

We have seen many “cow parades” over the 10 years we have been coming to the Jungfrau Region as well as some in other parts of the country. Sometimes there are formal festivals with costumes for both cows and humans. Sometimes it is a farmer simply walking down the street with his 5 or 6 cows when he has the notion to descend. When we hear the giant bells clanging, we run to the street or window (along with many others) to watch the ancient tradition.

After the descent, the villages celebrate with the chästeilet, or cheese festival, a gathering for music, food, dancing and, of course, the selling of the alpkäse, or cheese made while the cows are feeding on lush mountain grass. Each farmer marks their cheese with their farm name. When we go to the local grocery stores, we can see the products of the various farms displayed. Occasionally we see entrepreneurial farmers selling their cheeses in vending machines along the road along with beverages, dried apple slices, and other snacks.

Two cheeses labeled in the grocery store case, one from Stechelberg and another form Wengernalp. The third entry is in a vending machine outside the farm along a road many walk through the valley.

Festivals can be tiny or grand in scale. At little Winteregg, which is where the little cliff top train from Grütschalp to Mürren crosses paths with hiking and cycling trails, we found a small gathering of farm folk with cakes and drinks (beer, schnapps, coffee) available. No entertainment. Just the cheesemakers whose hut is nearby and the farmers who supply the milk.

Winteregg’s 2023 festival, a community gathering right next to the hut where the cheese is made.

Three and a half kilometers away, as the crow flies (12 km by car, but you cannot drive there) is Wengen, which put on a grand chästeilet Saturday and Sunday a week ago. An evening and a day of celebration with music and massive quantities of food, table space for hundreds of people, gigantic cheeses, and handmade goods for sale. You could arrange to purchase a cow share. (Not sure if that means alive or butchered.) For a community of 1,300 permanent residents, it was an amazing event.

Wengen’s chästeilet is a huge affair for the surrounding farms, locals, and tourists. Massive wheels of cheese, samples, crafts for sale, and a community feed with vats of rösti and other local fare. Of course there was beer, homemade cakes, and coffee.

Last year someone tried to drive to Wengen. We know the path: it leads up from Lauterbrunnen and is clearly marked not for driving. Cringe-worthy video here.

Today we attended the cheese festival in Thun (pronounced ‘tune,’) 42 km away on the shores of Lake Thun. Thun is much larger at 42,000+ people, and draws farmers’ production from all over the Canton of Bern, so the festival is huge. Here they call it käsefest. There must have been 40 vendors as the Thun festival is all about sampling and selling. Cows milk cheese, goats milk cheese (it’s not all feta or chèvre), sheeps milk cheese, organic or not, they had it. Need your fondue or raclette cheese stash fortified for the coming cold months? Buy direct from the farmer at the Thun käsefest. Perhaps chilli pepper laced alp cheese or an herb-flecked mild cheese is more to your liking.

The French may have over 400 types of cheese, but the farmers of the Canton must have at least that many varieties of alp cheese.

The cheese festival was conducted next to the farmers market in charming Thun on the Aare River and included not only sampling, but cheese made on site. Each farm had its own kiosk. Click on any photo for a better view.

Frankly, we are a bit cheesed-out at this point, so we bought some great dark chocolate. Swiss, of course.

Another Path to Lunch

16 Sep

16 September 2024.

Sundays are days for long walks and special lunches, at least while we are traveling. A few years ago, I wrote about a particular favorite, which we have now done three times (See https://girovaga.com/2021/10/03/a-path-to-lunch/) with plans to repeat as often as possible.

Yesterday we discovered another walk that led us to perhaps the finest mountain “hut” around, Rauchhütte on the Alpe di Siusi. I have read various raves about it: “Best hut! You have to go! Nowhere like it!” My cynical self said that all mountain huts are the same atmosphere, beverages, and mountain cuisine, in this case Südtirol specialties, beer, limited wine, grappa, and good coffee.  Rauchhütte is un altro mondo: a world apart.

Perhaps I should explain the concept of today’s mountain “huts.” In Italian we call one a rifugio or baita or malga, in German it is hütte. You would probably call one heavenly. We are talking real plates, glassware, and cutlery; Espresso machines and full kitchens; Clean bathrooms. They serve simple mountain food: hearty pastas, local specialities like canederli (a kind of dumpling), cheese and meat platters, polenta, game dishes featuring boar or venison, spareribs, lots of potatoes, beer, limited wines, some hard liquor. Always strudel, homemade cakes, coffee, and so on. Hearty fare. Occasionally a salad slips into the menu.

Approaching the baita Rauchhütte.

Imagine this terrace on a sunny, temperate day!

Rauchhütte defies the traditional baita. It is a gourmet experience, a wine-driven restaurant perched in one of the most beautiful mountain settings you will find. A fabulous deck, a warm and cozy dining room, stellar service, an impressive wine list, and elevated cuisine.

It was almost full when we arrived at noon. We were lucky to get the last unreserved table. Sunday lunch is a big deal and people target Rauchhütte for this special time.

Interior with views to the Sassolungo and Sasspiatto.

You cannot drive to Rauchhütte. You can cycle, hike, walk, or take a bus. We walked an hour to get there from AlpenHotel Panorama as well as an hour after lunch to — get this — ride a chair lift back to our home base! Who needs a bus?

Adding to the pleasure of the day, we are having a wintery September on the Alpe di Siusi. About 6 inches of snow fell Thursday into Friday, and Saturday was cursed with a bitterly cold wind. Sunday, the winds were still, and silence descended as it does with snow on the ground. Even most of the (few) people out were not talking much. Just enjoying the unusual scene. So did we. SIGH.

Lunch was divine. Fine wines by bottle or glass, a limited but excellent menu with many specials for the day featuring seasonal favorites like porcini or deer. Yes, the local specialities were present as well, but in an elevated manner, with the service you would expect in a fine-dining restaurant; except all the patrons were dressed for outdoor sports and had backpacks at their feet.

Ric’s lunch of canederli and goulash.

My choice: Housemade pappardelle with oxtail ragu.

Terrace wall decorated with (empty) wine bottles. They claim to have 300 labels in the wine cellar, mostly local.

A total of five miles and two hours of walking might have put a dent in the house made pappardelle with oxtail rags that I snarfed down. We will be back next year. I might even include one this in the next edition of Walking in Italy’s Val Gardena.

For those who are curious about the route and know the area or are visiting, we walked Trail #6 from Panorama downhill toward Ritsch, turning right on Trail #30 until it joins the main road at the Wiedner Egg bus stop. From there, follow the road to the “hut.” The easy-hiker way back is to walk the road back to the bus stop, then follow Trail #30, the Hans and Paula Steger Trail (also in our book) all the way to Compatsch, returning up to AlpenHotel Panorama via the chairlift.

Or take the bus if you had too much wine. That might happen next year because the wine list is simply awesome.

One of the views on our path to lunch, the magnificent Sassolungo and Sassopiatto.

61,000 Steps

6 Sep

6 September 2024.

Not a bad pedometer count for 2-and-a-half days. I struggle to get to 10K on any given day at home.

Richmond, UK, turned out to be a perfect post-Transatlantic flight stopover between Portland and Italy. Instead of taking a second hop to the continent, with the inevitable 3-hour layover at Heathrow, we opted this year to sleep where we landed for a few nights. (Last year the haul from PDX to LRH to ZRH was exhausting.)

We knew we wanted to visit some locations in Richmond and not stay in central London. We did not know how much walking we’d manage to do. Excellent weather helped.

Kew Gardens is magnificent. This was our third tour there and we are still finding corners we had not explored. Kew is 330 acres of forest, groomed gardens, conservatories, a horticulture school, and research facilities. They claim status as “the largest and most diverse botanical and mycological collections in the world” according to Wikipedia. Kew (see map) is four times bigger than Bodnant Gardens, which impressed us so much in Wales last year.

This visit we discovered a few areas previously unknown to us, including a magnificent collection of rock gardens organized by geography, and the (seemingly) boring “Grass Garden” was actually a stunning display of ornamental grasses, not a field of Kentucky Bluegrass. Makes me want acreage to be able to plant in such masses. The biological diversity in these 330 acres is astounding. We have visited in spring, late fall, and now late summer. Each season is spectacular, so if you are in London, take a day away to visit charming Richmond and Kew Gardens. By train, no less.

Day two for us was to be a visit to Hampton Court Palace, one of Henry the VIII’s country homes. Sadly, a few days before we arrived, we received word that they would be closed for seasonal maintenance on the only two days we had to visit. Due to fascination with Henry VIII (thank you, Wolf Hall) we have had HCP on the list for a few years and there it shall remain. Next visit.

Top row: The 1844 Palm House; Autumn color creeping in. Second row: The Grass Garden. Third row: Rock Garden.These photos do not begin to show the extent and the beauty. Fourth row: The Broad Walk, colorful borders.

Instead, we chose to walk a section of the Thames River Path. Imagine if the major river where you live had a walking path along it the entire length of it. With few exceptions, you can walk the 180-mile length of the path from near the source of the Thames to near the mouth. For reference, the main stem of the Willamette River in my state of Oregon is 187 miles long, so you could walk from Eugene to the Columbia River.

First Mate Siren

180 miles and 10 days were not in our plans, but a perfectly lovely stretch of about 6 miles suited us and included a ferry crossing at Twickenham with Siren the first mate and coffee at a garden café, plopping us back into Richmond near Kew, just in time for lunch.

Great signage; Ferryman (Siren’s dad); wide path, at least here, much used by locals; view of Richmond; Richmond Bridge

Richmond is a wonderful place to spend a few nights recovering from overseas travel or just because. Many restaurants and pubs, highly walkable, convenient to central London via public transportation if that is in the plan.

Walkers, take note. Nothing difficult but you will get your steps in!

The Delights of Long Trips

1 Sep

1 September 2024.

On our flight to London, my mind drifted to why we love these annual junkets so much. I could say the “thrill of travel” or “being away from the everyday.” We are retired so it isn’t a vacation from work.

But it is a vacation.

We look forward to our long trips for so many reasons, not the least of which is the simple pleasure of exploration: Finding new trails and new haunts; revisiting favorite places; riding trains; long lunches with a cold Radler after a hike; eating pizza every Friday night. See (Pizza Venerdi!)

It thrills me to no end that we won’t be subject to political ads. We will be home just in time to vote, but most of the worst campaign weeks we will be blissfully in the UK, Switzerland, and Italy.

Online news reading will diminish considerably. Why worry?

Consumption of wine and chocolate will increase, but then so does our exercise.

Our calendars will be clear of medical appointments for at least 9 weeks, an achievement, I assure you.

We will miss the cats, dear friends, and the turn of the seasons in the Northwest. But autumn comes to Italy and Switzerland, too. Maybe we’ll get snow! This picture is from a day in September.

Here’s our itinerary for the next two months.

  • Richmond, UK
  • Milan for a one-night transition to
  • Ortisei and the Alpe di Siusi
  • One night in Zurich as a transition to
  • Lauterbrunnen for almost 4 weeks
  • Locarno, a new-to-us location for autumn hiking
  • Rome, our fist time back since we moved back to the US in 2016
  • Iceland, for 24 hours with a non-stop flight to PDX

A couple of intra-Europe flights, unusual for us, lots of trains, 4 good long stays (Ortisei, Lauterbrunnen, Locarno, and Rome) allowing us to settle in and truly enjoy each location. In the case of Rome, allowing us to eat at our favorite haunts.

We hope you will follow along. There will be beautiful scenery, lots of pizza, and some lovely trains.

Nostalgic reminiscences

12 Dec

12 December, 2023.

Where you were and who you were with last Christmas? How about Thanksgiving of 1986? What gifts did you give your teenage son in 1990?

For many years my mom, sister, and I would have an inevitable discussion. Were we at our cousin’s last year for Christmas or at our house? Did we give Derek Hot Wheels or Legos? What year did he get that Walkman?

In 1981, in an attempt to resolve arguments before they started, I started to chronicle the Thanksgiving holiday and Christmas season. Now, 42 years later, it seems brilliant. My recall is not what it used to be. I still remember the events; not always the details such as precise years.

I have written about memories at this time of year twice before (see Christmas Memories from 2017 and Christmas Cards & Cookies from 2021) so it may be a blog trend.

I read through my holiday journal this year and a few more things popped out at me as fun to share.

For 4 years, while I was single and living in Minnesota, I held a Christmas Open House for friends, co-workers (some were both friends and co-workers) with a few family members for good measure. It was always the Sunday before Christmas and several dozen people visited throughout the afternoon and evening. My Christmas Chronicles detailed my menus. Here’s an example.

  • Glogg, a deadly Swedish mulled wine
  • Cranberry Punch, non-alcoholic
  • Japanese Yakitori
  • Sombrero Dip (very 80s!)
  • Köttbullar  (aka, Swedish Meatballs, a family recipe from my grandma)
  • Terrine de Campagne
  • Empaniditas
  • Bond Ost and Herring (Swedish Christmas favorites)
  • Wontons
  • Curried Chicken Finger-Sandwiches
  • Swedish Julkaka (bread) and Various Cookies

I cooked for days. It was crazy and something I would do in my twenties and thirties that I would NOT do these days. I wish I had pictures of these buffets! This was BECP: Before Everyone had Cameras in Pockets.

Christmas in Omaha, 1984. Ric and I were newly engaged. Left to right, Audrey, Anna, and Ruby. Ric’s mom, my grandma of Swedish meatball fame, and my mom. Grandmas was 87 and it was the last Christmas she traveled.

Then there was the year 7-year-old Derek knocked over two bottles of wine just as we were leaving for dinner at my cousin’s, and it was the very wine I had bought for the occasion. Luckily there were alternate wines I was able to grab, but two bottles of wine lay broken on the basement floor. Yuck!

Another Thanksgiving (1984), just as Ric and I had decided to get married the following year, we got a Siamese kitten for Derek, who was then 9. My step-daughter contributed a name for this naughty kitty, Méchante. She was cherished and with us for many years.

There were some very cold Christmases. In 1983, my final Christmas in Minnesota as we were moving to Omaha (this is pre-Ric), as of December 26 at midnight we had experienced 108 hours below zero. One day the high was only -15 degrees F. The high! That year it was so cold that on the morning of our Christmas Open House I woke to frozen pipes and no functioning toilets. Luckily they thawed by party time.

Although not so cold, we have had weather problems in Oregon, too. In 2008, the snow came and came and came in a series of storms. We lived at about 800 feet and could not get our cars out. Mine was stuck in the driveway for 8 days over Christmas. Our friends could not get to us and our neighbors could not get to their planned festivities so we invited stranded neighbors for Christmas Eve. We remember that evening fondly. There were two magnums of great Australian wine at the start of the evening. There were no leftovers.

Another year – 1987 – both holidays were overshadowed by our move from Omaha to Portland. At Halloween we found our house. Over Thanksgiving weekend we selected furniture and window coverings. December 29 we moved in. Whew! Sadly, we missed the wedding of Rick and Jane.

My sister and I had not missed one Christmas since she was born (1960) until 1985. She went to California, no doubt tired of the Upper Midwest cold. I missed her terribly that year. It wasn’t the same without her. She was co-hostess of the Christmas Open House (mostly in name as she was most assuredly not a cook) for at least two years.

Derek loved The Nutcracker. We attended, at his request, four performances, until at the age of 11 he said it was enough. Many years we went to plays and concerts during Advent. At least until he grew into a disinterested teenager.

This is about the age that Derek fell in love with The Nutcracker. Same year he killed the wine.

There were holiday trips. 1996 Thanksgiving in Texas was a favorite. Our brother-in-law built a plywood cover over their lap pool so they could set up tables for about 2-dozen people and we dined outside. That year he also built a dormitory/bunkhouse for half-a-dozen young men and boys to sleep in so everyone had a bed on the ranch. Ric and I got the room with a shotgun over the door and a gigantic Texas cockroach for a target.

When we moved to Italy, we took advantage of being there for holiday trips to London, the Dolomites, and Switzerland. When you cannot celebrate in a traditional manner, go for different. The lights in London, a concert at Royal Albert Hall, snow-hiking in the Alps, 5-course dinners you don’t have to make yourself. Somehow we always remember that at the lovely lodge where we stayed in the Dolomites they had a “butter buffet” with about 8 kinds of butter. Every morning. We were the only Americans with many Germans and Italians for our fellow guests.

One favorite Thanksgiving of all time: Ric and I cooked for 12 Italian friends on Thanksgiving Day 2013. Truly memorable! Those kids are at university by now, maybe graduated.

I was often on the road for business in the 90s and in 1995 was headed to Buffalo, NY, for a meeting on a December Monday. Derek was at Fort Drum in the Army, so on the Friday before we met in New York City to spend a festive weekend. We had a ball: Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Radio City Music Hall “Christmas Spectacular” complete with camels pooping on the stage, and the Rockettes. (They just danced.) We shopped, we ate, and we drank. Sunday at the airport our flights were in trouble: a huge lake effect snowstorm had moved in so my flight to Buffalo was cancelled and his to Syracuse delayed. I never made it to Buffalo for my meeting and Derek spent two days getting back to base as there were five feet of snow between Syracuse and the base near Watertown!

Some years Ric and I were alone in Portland. While Derek was in the Army, we spent two Christmases at a nice lodge on the Oregon Coast with our giant collie, Babe. Other years we had friends and family in large groups (I remember 13 at least once in our down-sized empty-nester condo) to dinner. Always uproariously fun with Trivial Pursuit competitions.

Jane Gray, aka Janie, at 12. She lived another 10 years.

Since we have returned from living in Italy we have spent many wonderful Christmases in Durango with Rick and Jane. Our fifth will be this year, again establishing great memories over shared meals and countless bottles of wine at high altitude. We’ve had snowy years and not-so-snowy years, big gatherings and small, cancelled flights and changes of itinerary, power outages and an intervening pandemic, of course. But we’ve always had a festive and memorable holiday.

Durango Christmas morning 2021. All fresh snow.

My brother has become the Master of making Swedish pancakes, aka plättar. Mom used to make them every year but I have not mastered the technique. A wonderful Christmas morning treat regardless of the weather.

In the end, these holidays embody time with loved ones and “home” wherever it may be. And that is what we remember. The events, the people, the problems, the victories. We forget most of the presents unless we wrote them down. (Though I’ll never forget getting my Barbie Dream House.)

As I wish you a festive and wonderful time during the year-end holidays I leave you with this lovely Italian saying:

Il Natale è un incontro con la memoria, ci porta a casa, inevitabilmente.

Christmas is an encounter with memory, it brings us home, inevitably

 – Lorenzo Marone

Girovaga

Formerly GoodDayRome

Skip to content ↓