We started out in Gstaad, an expensive resort community up in the Alps. All the buildings, including the gas stations, have gently sloped peaked rooves over unpainted wood buildings and carved wood trim.|
It was a fantastically beautiful affect; an enveloping consistency. Very much a feeling of being in another place - a place with very strong building codes and zoning laws.
|Here, our lodging the Palace Hotel stands out like a piece of medieval Las Vegas over the otherwise quaint wooden town.|
|A picture taken in a moving chair suspended from cables running up the side of a mountain.|
|A ski lodge at evening, overlooking the alps, lit up some by flares in the foreground.|
|A ski lift at evening, overlooking the alps, lit up some by flares in the foreground.|
Risotto made in a hole cut into a wheel of parmesan cheese. "You'll have to wait a year to taste this again!" he said as he urged a spoonful on to my plate.|
"Because it's very rare!"
I nodded, eager to return next year, before I had tasted the dead-sea-salty mixture.
"Let's drink a lot, drink some more, sing, drink, then grab some flaming torches and ski down the mountain in night's darkness!"|
In the United States, I believe we have insurance premiums that protect us from fun like this.
|Dining table hijinks at the Palace Hotel. Something's afoot with Jane's parfait?|
|2003 Switzerland: Gstaad | Thun | Bern | Geneva|