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| Chateau of Chillon |
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| Olympic Museum |
Challenges Past and Present-Lausanne & Montreux
Oct. 1, 2015-Lausanne & Montreux
It's Octoberfest time and we hoped to avoid the drunken revelry by going back to a French canton. I understand Switzerland isn't as extreme in her celebration as Germany. Switzerland seems to have an attitude of "everything in moderation," my Grandmas's favorite saying.
We took a train to Lausanne and changed for Montreux. Once there we were directed to a local bus for Chillon and its Chateau. At our stop we tried to exit the bus, but the doors wouldn't open. The driver decided it was a good time to check our tickets to see if the clueless Americans didn't know to buy tickets and might be ripe for a fine. He checked no one else's and the doors magically opened.
I'll start you off with a brief literature lesson, although there are people reading these emails who have PhDs in English lit. The Chateau was made famous in the very long poem by Lord Byron after he and Shelley visited the area. It was a dark and stormy night, literally. Byron and Shelley were awed by Lake Geneva, had seen the Chateau, and were forced to shelter at an inn in Ouchy.
Byron's poem is about a family who was persecuted and destroyed either for religious or political reasons. He's not clear. The father was burned at the stake. Of the six brothers, two died in battle, another was burned, presumably at the stake, and the remaining three were imprisoned in the chateau's dungeon. They were each chained to separate pillars in the same cell. One brother was an outdoorsman and hunter. He couldn't bear being immobilized, lost the will to live, and slowly starved to death. Another brother, the youngest, was the family's favorite. He was "fair of face" and looked like the mother. Strangely, this is the only mention of the mother. We never know what became of her. The youngest brother always put others first. His concern was for his siblings, not himself. The last brother watched helplessly as this gentle soul died. He was so enraged he broke his bonds but arrived at his brother's side too late. The jailers buried the bodies in shallow graves at the base of the columns to which they'd been tied. They permitted the surviving prisoner freedom of movement as he paced his cell trying to avoid stepping on the graves. He too was losing hope, but a bird appeared in the one crack in the walls. At first, he thought it was the spirit of his youngest brother, but when it flew away he took it as a sign that there was still freedom ahead. He lost track of time as he paced and listened to the lake waters lap outside the thick stone walls. He was freed years later, but was bereft of any joy. He saw only a future of loneliness and regret. The poem ends there. No, I didn't read and interpret the poem myself. I found a detailed explanation on line.
Though Byron's work is fictions, there was an actual prisoner of the Duke of Savoy. His name was Francois Bonivard. He was imprisoned between 1530-1536, and freed when the Bernese attacked. He went on to live until age seventy-seven. I hope he spent those years peacefully. Today the Chateau is a restoration of the original with great attention to detail. We spent almost an hour and a half walking every inch with the guidance of an audio tour. It's built on a rock island in Lake Geneva a few feet from shore. It's a conglomeration of cobblestone walks, stone walls, narrow windows, and turrets. Picture any Medieval castle. We climbed from the dungeons to the parapets on winding, slippery stone steps and shaky wooden ones. At one point it was so dark I turned on my phone flashlight to see our footing. It was heartbreaking to imagine the revelry in the great halls above while prisoners suffered below.
Emerging into the 21st century, we were ready for sun and fun. We took the bus towards Montreux but got off early to walk the promenade. We found a lakeside cafe and had a leisurely lunch while people watching. We strolled back to the station, took the train to Lausanne and boarded the Metro. What a boon to our weary feet. I don't know how old it is, but people used to have to walk the incredibly steep sloping streets to get anywhere. The Metro cuts right through the city and is automated.
We rode up to the old town to see the 13th century Gothic Cathedral. Large, vaulted, stone, at the top of over a hundred steps. Metro be damned. There were a few other places marked on the tourist map but the Ancienne Academie was now a school of performing arts and the Bishop's Chateau was under renovation. We followed Rue d'Universite hoping to find the medical school attended by some people we know. They went there at a time when American medical schools were not admitting Jews. We did find an old university building. I took a photo. We'll see if it's the right one. When we asked about medical schools or the appropriate era at the tourism bureau they couldn't pinpoint it and we were told there were a few now.
We got back on the Metro headed towards Ouchy. It's lakeside and the only thing we wanted to see was the Olympic Museum. We got there before closing and were faced with hundreds more steps to the actual building. Seeing Lausanne was an olympic event. We quickly breezed through what appeared to be an excellent showcase of history and memorabilia. We didn't do it justice, but we were fading fast. We walked the half-mile back to the Metro and collapsed on the train back to Bern. David remarked that the train platforms here are big ashtrays. Smokers are everywhere and when the doors to the trains open the smell enters and permeates everything. We're so not used to that anymore.
Petered out and went back to the Turkish place for dinner.
Tomorrow Zurich.
Toby
It's Octoberfest time and we hoped to avoid the drunken revelry by going back to a French canton. I understand Switzerland isn't as extreme in her celebration as Germany. Switzerland seems to have an attitude of "everything in moderation," my Grandmas's favorite saying.
We took a train to Lausanne and changed for Montreux. Once there we were directed to a local bus for Chillon and its Chateau. At our stop we tried to exit the bus, but the doors wouldn't open. The driver decided it was a good time to check our tickets to see if the clueless Americans didn't know to buy tickets and might be ripe for a fine. He checked no one else's and the doors magically opened.
I'll start you off with a brief literature lesson, although there are people reading these emails who have PhDs in English lit. The Chateau was made famous in the very long poem by Lord Byron after he and Shelley visited the area. It was a dark and stormy night, literally. Byron and Shelley were awed by Lake Geneva, had seen the Chateau, and were forced to shelter at an inn in Ouchy.
Byron's poem is about a family who was persecuted and destroyed either for religious or political reasons. He's not clear. The father was burned at the stake. Of the six brothers, two died in battle, another was burned, presumably at the stake, and the remaining three were imprisoned in the chateau's dungeon. They were each chained to separate pillars in the same cell. One brother was an outdoorsman and hunter. He couldn't bear being immobilized, lost the will to live, and slowly starved to death. Another brother, the youngest, was the family's favorite. He was "fair of face" and looked like the mother. Strangely, this is the only mention of the mother. We never know what became of her. The youngest brother always put others first. His concern was for his siblings, not himself. The last brother watched helplessly as this gentle soul died. He was so enraged he broke his bonds but arrived at his brother's side too late. The jailers buried the bodies in shallow graves at the base of the columns to which they'd been tied. They permitted the surviving prisoner freedom of movement as he paced his cell trying to avoid stepping on the graves. He too was losing hope, but a bird appeared in the one crack in the walls. At first, he thought it was the spirit of his youngest brother, but when it flew away he took it as a sign that there was still freedom ahead. He lost track of time as he paced and listened to the lake waters lap outside the thick stone walls. He was freed years later, but was bereft of any joy. He saw only a future of loneliness and regret. The poem ends there. No, I didn't read and interpret the poem myself. I found a detailed explanation on line.
Though Byron's work is fictions, there was an actual prisoner of the Duke of Savoy. His name was Francois Bonivard. He was imprisoned between 1530-1536, and freed when the Bernese attacked. He went on to live until age seventy-seven. I hope he spent those years peacefully. Today the Chateau is a restoration of the original with great attention to detail. We spent almost an hour and a half walking every inch with the guidance of an audio tour. It's built on a rock island in Lake Geneva a few feet from shore. It's a conglomeration of cobblestone walks, stone walls, narrow windows, and turrets. Picture any Medieval castle. We climbed from the dungeons to the parapets on winding, slippery stone steps and shaky wooden ones. At one point it was so dark I turned on my phone flashlight to see our footing. It was heartbreaking to imagine the revelry in the great halls above while prisoners suffered below.
Emerging into the 21st century, we were ready for sun and fun. We took the bus towards Montreux but got off early to walk the promenade. We found a lakeside cafe and had a leisurely lunch while people watching. We strolled back to the station, took the train to Lausanne and boarded the Metro. What a boon to our weary feet. I don't know how old it is, but people used to have to walk the incredibly steep sloping streets to get anywhere. The Metro cuts right through the city and is automated.
We rode up to the old town to see the 13th century Gothic Cathedral. Large, vaulted, stone, at the top of over a hundred steps. Metro be damned. There were a few other places marked on the tourist map but the Ancienne Academie was now a school of performing arts and the Bishop's Chateau was under renovation. We followed Rue d'Universite hoping to find the medical school attended by some people we know. They went there at a time when American medical schools were not admitting Jews. We did find an old university building. I took a photo. We'll see if it's the right one. When we asked about medical schools or the appropriate era at the tourism bureau they couldn't pinpoint it and we were told there were a few now.
We got back on the Metro headed towards Ouchy. It's lakeside and the only thing we wanted to see was the Olympic Museum. We got there before closing and were faced with hundreds more steps to the actual building. Seeing Lausanne was an olympic event. We quickly breezed through what appeared to be an excellent showcase of history and memorabilia. We didn't do it justice, but we were fading fast. We walked the half-mile back to the Metro and collapsed on the train back to Bern. David remarked that the train platforms here are big ashtrays. Smokers are everywhere and when the doors to the trains open the smell enters and permeates everything. We're so not used to that anymore.
Petered out and went back to the Turkish place for dinner.
Tomorrow Zurich.
Toby
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