SEEING THINGS THURSDAY 6TH JUNE - BONIFACIO

Distance in Corsica is measured in time, and time is meaningless, which makes for interesting calculations if you want to work out how much you can fit in a day.

It does take a little adjustment, but once one understands that a journey of twenty kilometres (three as the crow flies) could take an hour if the road is particularly narrow and windy, and a journey of eighty kilometres could take two hours, as long as there is plenty to eat and drink, it all starts to fall into place.   

Dr Dumè is determined to inject as much of “his” Corsica into our souls as is humanly possible in the few days we have in his company.  

Therefore during a drive of six or so hours, we managed to visit the extraordinary village of Bonifacio with it’s limestone fortifications and sheltered harbours, inspect artefacts, bronze aged statues still standing in the spots where they have stood guard for four millennium, some of our favourite pieces of his work nestled in an estuary somewhere, all the while hugging a coastline that can only be described as spectacular.

We stopped for coffee at a place called Lion Rock, but when I remarked, I thought privately, that in my view it looked more like a pussy cat, a deadly silence descended on the cafe where we sat.   

Dumè whispered that offended Corsicans have a particular methodology  for dealing with those who cause offence,  which involves cable ties and boat anchors and a short voyage out to sea.

Perhaps it really does look like a lion.    

EASY AS WEDNESDAY 5TH JUNE - AJACCIO to PORTIGLIOLO

Can it really only be this morning we were walking to the airport in Geneva an almost balmy fourteen degree pre-dawn at four am?  Is that tingling sensation on my forehead really just a touch of too much sun, or did some part of me stay behind during the teleportation?  

As soon as we landed Dumè as always, did his utmost to erase any memories of the last few days, by guiding us on a whirlwind highlights tour of his Ajaccio.  He took us in short order, to sample the best coffee in Corsica, then the best pastries in Corsica then to the market to stock up on the best produce in Corsica, followed rapidly by a tour of the Citadel, lunch, and visits to a couple of galleries, all in an attempt to cram experiences of as much of his life into ours as time would allow, while allowing just enough time for a short nap before setting off again.

We felt nothing but sympathy for the packs of day trippers descending like soldier crabs from the giant cruise ships (that sadly dominate the views of the city centre from every direction for the duration of summer), trying their best to see as much as we did in the few hours of shore leave they were allowed, without the benefit of his expert guidance.

Just like them we wish we had more time, but we have places to go, things to do, people to see. 

Which is how, in the cool of the evening an hour or so to the south, we came to be sitting on the balcony of Julie’s parent’s place in Portigliolo, watching the sun slowly make its way down to that point where the light blue sky meets the Mediterranean Sea, pinching ourselves and wondering at all the circumstances that have brought us to this place in time and space. 

CHAPLIN’S WORLD TUESDAY 4TH JUNE - INTERLAKEN TO GENEVA

Chaplin’s World is a museum dedicated entirely to the life of Charlie Chaplin, constructed in the grounds of his former residence and including the house in which he once lived which has rooms spectacularly reconstructed so personally that it felt as if we were intruding at times.  It’s an unmissable treat, and it turned out to be a perfect setting to farewell the other four until fate, birthdays or simple wanderlust reunite us.

Geneva Airport on the other hand could easily be missed.

We have visited dozens of airports in an equal number of countries and neither of us can think of a time when we had any difficulty in navigating the vagaries of check-in, immigration, customs and so forth,  but we had this nagging feeling about tomorrow and decided to do a preview tour.

We have not yet discovered what the big sign which says “Terminal 1 - EasyJet” actually means, but it was pretty clear when entering what looked something like an abandoned office building, that our flight was not going to be leaving from there.

So we progressed to Terminal 2, a progression which may have been smoother had there been any actual signage giving the merest hint of where that might be.  

After finally discovering an array of departure counters, disconcertingly none of which were marked “EasyJet”, we enquired at the “Geneva Airport Assistance” office, where a nice man declared “Oh you need to go to the French Side” with a wave of his hand and a nod towards the East.    This was all well and good, but our documents warned in no uncertain terms that we must drop our baggage before going through security, and the man on duty directed us to the EasyJet counter at the opposite (very far) end of the terminal.

Miss Easy jet was friendly in a budget airline kind of way, and told us that no, we really did have to go to the “French Side”.   Puzzled, we stopped by a SwissAir counter who told us we’d have to drop our bags in the “French Side” then check in upstairs.   While returning from upstairs on the “FrenchSide” which turned out to be an array of public conveniences, a sweet young security guard seeing our plight, directed us downstairs to the “FrenchSide” where she assured us a bag drop off would appear by magic about three hours before the flight.

To make sure, we popped down to where we thought all this might happen, and chancing upon another pair of security people, once again shared our life stories.   “Oh, said the senior of the two.  The system has changed today - just come in to the “FrenchSide” in the morning and if they have told everybody all will be like a Swiss Clock.

They really should charge admission!

BOATS AND TRAINS MONDAY 3RD JUNE - INTERLAKEN

It was a funny in-between kind of day for us, as we tried to get our heads around getting ready to move again after a week with our feet so firmly planted in the Lazy Rancho soil that we remain at risk of putting down roots.

The weather hadn’t really done anything at that point to convince us that we would enjoy being out of doors, so it seemed like a perfect day to enact our Rule of Ten - our own little guideline that dictates that we should not get out of bed until either the temperature or the time is in double figures.  

We were in the throes of considering whether there was any way that we could construe going out anywhere as “fun” when we received Erika’s message to ask if we  wanted to reconsider our plans for the afternoon.

We didn’t have to be asked twice, particularly as a little dicky bird had told us that Christian’s newly repaired steam locomotive was due to arrive mid afternoon, so we quickly made plans to meet at “theirs” for the evening.   

While we were once happy to confirm that there is “absolutely nothing, half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats”, we can also confirm that “simply playing with trains” might come a very close second.

Across the Thunersee Sunday 2 June - Interlaken

It was hard to describe our collective mood as the new day dawned, “Boxing Day Chill” perhaps; that sort of settling rosy afterglow in which one wakes the next day, wondering if it really happened or was it just a dream, before spotting the tiniest scrap of wrapping paper under the couch as evidence that it was not.

We sat around as old friends do, with the accompaniment of Christian’s CD player (I didn’t know they were still a “thing”) making a sterling job of Graham’s “Jim Crisp the Plumber” classical guitar on CD (they must be!).  To my great relief I discovered that the inimitable Mr Crisp has a YouTube Music account and I therefore won’t have to scour the thrift shops for a tape player to create a bootleg version (for future academic reference.) 

At some point, someone implied that we were in danger of wasting the day, and perhaps we should take a turn around the block, venture into the great outdoors, which after a brief investigation was equally as chill as we were, and a lot wetter.   

Suitably attired, we made our way to the ferry, which bore us across the Thunersee, into the heart of Thun itself where we strolled and re-caffeinated before returning to Christian and Erika’s lair and made plans to do exactly the same thing tomorrow. 

Mission Accomplished Saturday 1 June - Kemmeriboden Bad

 

Fifty-one years ago, Graham and the other of us conspired to surprise their respective partners with a party to celebrate our birthdays.  That event served admirably as Graham and Jill’s first date which turned out pretty well, and if we weren’t already, we weren’t far off being betrothed ourselves, which also turned out pretty well It probably doesn’t need to be said. 

In the intervening years we’ve  always been separated by great distances, at times on opposite sides of the globe, with some invisible bungee cord joining our families, banging us back together from time to time as our lives took their separate paths, forming mutual friendships along the way.  

We met Erika, in this story formerly known as “E”, the grand conspirator in today’s tale, and Christian almost decades ago in Latvia as fellow guests at the wedding of one of Graham and Jill’s progeny and as these things happen, have been in touch ever since.   When she enquired in January as to our availability for a small soiree to be held in Switzerland to celebrate Jill’s biggest birthday to date, we naturally replied in the affirmative, and once again that bungee cord began to do its thing.  

When she suggested that perhaps we could make it a surprise for them, we underestimated the effort that would take, but during six months of visits and telephone conversations and reunions with family and friends, not a single word of this plan was leaked.  

So it was that when we turned up at the Hotel Kemmeriboden Bad, exactly on time (this is Switzerland after all) at the table at which they were already seated, with two extra places set, every emotion that could be experienced moved over all of us in great waves.  I suspect that actual tears might have been shed but I had something in my eye at the time and couldn’t see clearly enough to tell.   

Erika’s plan had worked flawlessly.

Hours later, in the midst of C & E’s family, still not fully recovered but with our moods as mellow as the evening light over the Thunersee, it was impossible not to be grateful for our friendships, and for every twist of fate that over the past half century had ultimately led us to this very place.

By boat Friday 31st May - Interlaken to Giessbach

Since all good spy stories seem  at some point to involve,a boat on a lake in Switzerland, and we have just one more day of laying low, a nice little joint in a paddle steamer to an ancient hotel where Sherlock Holmes once battled with the dastardly Moriarty seemed entirely appropriate. 

A rare failure of management, the result of which was that we found ourselves in steerage class on the steamer all the way to Giessbach at least allowed us to watch the workings of the ancient steam engine as we chuffed along, but it did keep us nicely warm while outside conditions could be most aptly described as  somewhere between “it would be much nicer tucked up in bed”, and “abominable”.   With a maximum temperature of three degrees, the kind of visibility you get when you put a paper bag over your head, and the sort of rain my mother would have described as “set in”, standing next to the engine for a bit was really quite pleasant.   

On arrival at Giessback,  Europe’s first Funicular transported us to the Hotel Terrace where aforementioned management redeemed itself, having had the presence of mind to have booked an indoor table for luncheon the day before “just in case”.

Normally a highlight of any visit here (apart from lunch) is an exploration of the pathways that lead one beside, across and beneath the monster waterfalls that traverse the site, creating the perfect location for bad guys to lead good guys on a merry chase.  

Today, given the conditions, it seemed much more sensible to simply take a photograph of others undertaking that particular activity before ducking back into the warmth for dessert and coffee .