Day 28: Bern to Paris

Highlights:

• Blue skies and white snow in Bern
• La Fourmi cafe, and Leo
• Lewis' apartment in Paris

I had another mega breakfast at Landhaus. Albert was back, and he was on top form; making jokes and being extra helpful. I asked him if he was in fact Albert, and he said "as good as". I'm not sure what that means exactly.

I packed up and headed into town. It had stopped snowing, and the skies were clear blue. 

Occasionally the wind disturbed the snow on the trees, and so there were mini-snowfalls all along my route to the station. It was only a 4h train ride, but I stopped off at a Migros supermarket to stock up on supplies. It was huge! It sold all your standard groceries, but then had specialist counters selling clothing, flowers and even plaster of paris ornaments. I stocked up on water and supermarket swiss chocolate products to fulfill my gift quota. Sub-standard chocolate coming your way soon, friends and family. You lucky devils.

There was a panicked moment at the station when the lady told me you HAD to reserve a seat to Paris and then pulled a face when I asked if there were seats any left today. "I don't think so", she said, shaking her head. "We only allocate a few seats for interrailling". A minute later, she surprised herself by finding nine free seats. She seemed slightly annoyed to have made my trip so easy. I imagine she got some sort of sadistic pleasure out of sending heavily bag-laden travellers back to their hostels. But still, she reluctantly booked me on a train leaving in 5minutes, so I raced along Bern station to the Gleis (remember, that's platform in German), hitting numerous people with my heavy chocolate bag (I've had the German word "Entshuldigen" to hand from day 1 of this trip. I can't count how many times I've had to use it for pedestrians and, more commonly, cyclists, when they've had to skid to the side after I've plonked myself unexpectedly on their paths). I just made the train, and we pulled out of the station and headed to Basel SBB.

(Just a note for travellers, there's a Basel SBB and a Basel BBB. Very different, and about a 10minute train ride from each other. I almost got off at BBB on the way out before discovering last minute that it was the wrong station for international connections. Close call.)

I stopped off at Bretzelkonig (I'm presuming the translation is Pretzel King) at Basel station, and ordered a coffee. I clearly only speak Bavarian German, as when I asked for "only milk", the Swiss guy dumped some sugar in and then went on to the next customer. It wasn't good coffee, even with the sugar. Don't go there. Fortunately queuing at Bretzelkonig gave me a chance to see my Swiss hero for a second.

There was a delay to the Paris train, but I settled in to read some more of my wine tasting guide. I'm almost a pro, I think. I know all about tannins and acidity, and the whole wine making process. I can defining almost tell a Claret from a Beaujolais. The train filled up a little, with a ridiculous number of young babies. There must have been some sort of baby expo happening in Bern that weekend. Or some baby disciplinary event, as they were all crying.

We got moving after 30minutes, and were soon in France (according to my Orange advice texts, which have generally kept me informed on my whereabouts throughout). A French family of three sat down on the table opposite. There was a cute kid who the mum was making giggle by blowing raspberries in his hand. I glanced at the dad and he was looking annoyed. Odd. The kid went and stood near the door by his dad and was fiddling with something when the dad snapped and forcefully grabbed his arm to yank him away. Unsurprisingly, the kid started bawling it. Great. Me and another woman who'd been laughing at the cute kid, looked at each other in horror. The mum blew a few more raspberries and all was fine again, and the dad tried to join in too. I'm suspicious that he was just trying to save face after appearing so brutal to the kid.

We arrived at Paris Gare de Lyon at 4pm. I didn't have a map, but somehow figured we were in the South East. I needed to pick up the key from the apartment I was staying in and I'd also agreed to meet Leonor, my Parisian friend from university. She lived a few stops out into the suburbs from Place de Clichy, and we'd agreed to meet near Blanche for dinner. I was a little early so I grabbed a few Metros to the nearby Pigalle, and found a cool bar near the station called La Fourmi on Rue des Martyrs. This is in the Montmartre part of town, the area which includes the Sacre Coeur, the artist market, and then the seedy Pigalle section. It's where Amelie is set, so I love it.

La Fourmi was sort of a grungy hip bar, filled with a mix of young and old locals. Wine for €2.90. I had a Syrah, and sat trying to swirl the wine in this tiny glass to release the flavours. Limited success.

I was sending a innuendo-filled, flirty message to a friend of mine, when I accidentally glanced up and caught the eye of the bartender, who gave me a wink. I must have carried the flirtness in my gaze. Whoops. This carried on the whole evening, when I kept accidentally sending him cheeky looks. It made for an awkward moment at the bar when I think he assumed I'd come to follow-up, and I just wanted another drink. I kept myself occupied waiting for Leo, by texting my friend Lewis (whose apartment I was staying at)
to rub in the fact I was in a cool bar in Paris whilst he was still in London, attempting some French. He was arriving the next day, but instead of writing 'Je te vois demain' (or on se vois), meaning 'I see you tomorrow', I wrote 'Je te veux'. You guys can google that. Glad I used it on him and no one else.

Lewis recommended I use it on a local hottie (I'm not sure he used the word hottie). At that exact moment, I felt someone approach the table. 'Helloooo', I thought. Now might be the time. I looked up to find a cross between Einstein, Robin Williams and the stoned photo hut guy from That 70s Show. He wanted to charge his laptop in my socket (calm down, it was next to my table). Perhaps not the time.

Leo arrived, and it was refreshing to see a familiar face after a few weeks away. I was collecting her apartment key to pass on to our Dutch friend Marthe, and her new husband* who were coming to Paris that week. Leo now had an internship in London, so unfortunately wouldn't be there as well. She'd just finished studying Law (Europeans seem to study FOREVER) and would be in London for 2months working for Total (the energy company). We sat chatting for a while, before I headed off to the metro to go to Lewis' apartment.

I stayed here for 10 days in July, so it was cool to notice that I remembered a lot of the area. Rather than change lines, I got off two stops away from Lewis' local metro Wagram and found my way back to his apartment on Rue Ampere. His housemate Isabelle let me in, and I dumped my heavy bags in relief. In July, I'd accidentally locked Lewis' keys in his flat ten minutes after arriving (let's not talk about that) so Isabelle had let me in before, and must think I'm a little bit special. She was studying film editing and had a beginning of term party that night to go to. We sat in their cool living room (it feels like a New York Artist apartment to me. Everything is white, the walls are bare apart from dvds and paintings resting on the floor against them, and there are huge windows looking out onto the street. There are a line of glassed doors leading into the living room as well. One of the coolest apartments I've been to) and talked for a while about film, weather and the future, before I went to bed on the most uncomfortable mattress known to humanity.

End of day 28.

* So in late September, I flew to Holland to go to Marthe's wedding. After a night in Amsterdam with my friend Jonny, I'd headed to Utrecht and met up with Marthe and Leonor. After a great weekend (seriously great. We cycled to and from the church for the wedding. Crazy), I was sitting at Amsterdam airport reluctantly waiting to fly home when this whole trip suddenly occurred to me. So rather than think about it too much, whilst sitting there I just booked my one way ticket to Berlin for 8 days later, and my interrailing pass. Bosh. So meeting Leo and Marthe in Paris felt like a great rounding off of the whole experience.

Day 27: Bern

Highlights:

• 8 SFr breakfast at Hotel Landhaus with a soundtrack of Joanna Newsom and Bjork
• Einstein and Swiss History Museum
• Simon the Snowman
• Kloeserli Weincafe, and a great Sankt Laurent

I woke up, pulled back the curtains, and was looking out onto some sort of bloody winter wonderland. There was white everywhere, and it was still snowing. What a great time to be in Bern.

I went down into the mini restaurant/bar and a different bar attendant offered me breakfast for 8 swiss franks. Probably the cheapest offer I've seen here (it's living up to the expensive swiss expectation). The bar girl had short hair, which was shaved on the sides, and I came to the conclusion she was gay as she started making googoo eyes at a girl who came and sat with her at the bar. It was cute. As I sat eating muesli (presumably Bircher), blueberry yoghurt, croissants, bread and cheese, and drinking coffee and juice (a mega breakfast), Joanna Newsom, The Knife, Patrick Wolf and Bjork played through the speakers. The bar girl clearly had great music tastes. And not just Bjork, but Hyperballad by Bjork. If you don't know the song, download it, then listen to it on iTunes in the dark, with the iTunes graphics playing on your screen. Amazing.

I hadn't packed for snow. I sort of forgot that winter was coming and as mentioned before, only packed cut-off T-Shirts. I did my best though, putting as many layers as possible under my coat and converse (not exactly snowshoes) and looked a little michelin man as I headed out into the street.

It was SUBLIME. These bursts of laughter kept welling up as I crunched through the snow. You can't not laugh in that weather. Even as I crossed the Kirchenfeldbruecke, where the wind kicked up a notch and the snow was horizontal, it felt amazing. I went to the Historiches und Einstein Museum. Not a cheap entry, and I was somewhat reluctant to see more Einstein stuff after learning about his attitude towards his wife, cousin and her daughter later in life*, but it seemed a big deal to the Bernese (Bernese? Does that sound right?) so I went in.

In no time at all, I'd come to grips with the theory of relativity. I mean, I won't bore you with the details here, but believe me when I tell you, I GET IT. Totally and utterly. (PUB QUIZ FACT Light always travels at 300,000 km/sec). After learning about the theory, which Einstein originally developed and released in Bern in 1905, you're led up a staircase to the next level. This staircase might have been my favourite part of the whole museum. It was like walking into something out of the Minority Report or Dr X's special mind room in the X-Men. Everything was mirrored and so as you looked up, it seemed that the room went on forever. With the flashing images of Einstein and the blue and white lights, it was totally surreal. I sat on the staircase for a while, spacing out slightly.

The curators had mixed the Einstein part of the museum with Switzerland's Jewish History (Einstein was Jewish, though didn't believe in God). The Jews really have had it rough. They only got equal rights to other citizens in Switzerland in 1880s. Ridiculous. So after delving a little more into Einstein's life (he didn't speak properly at the age of 3 and struggled with the educational methods at school) and his family (his dad and Uncle owned an Electrical Company in Munich, and were the first people to electrocute Oktoberfest), I headed into the Swiss history section, which gave an interesting fact for every year between about 1850 and 2001. Here are some highlights:

• 1908 - Persil was the first detergent on market. (I'd always undervalued these sorts of developments, but labour-saving technologies in detergent, washing machines and other household devices etc. had a major impact on freeing up women's time at home, and allowed them to pursue things outside of housekeeping. I can't not be grateful of that)
• 1934 - Nescafe soluble coffee invented by a Nescafe employee (Max Morgenthaler) in his own time, after the company dropped the project.
• 1959 - The greatest international success of a Swiss Football team to date...Bern's Sport Club Young Boys won the first leg of the semi-final for the Europe Cup at Wankdorf (LOL) stadium.
• 1962 - First James Bond Film Dr. No released, with Honey Rider (babe who walks out of the sea in white bikini) played by a Swiss lady, Ursula Andress.

So big Swiss history, right there. I learned a bit about Switzerland's role during WW2 as well. Literally the only country not overrun by Nazis, mainly because the Nazis couldn't see any value in invading Switzerland. They instead utilised their banking system (Nazi gold!), whilst the Swiss carried on as usual, sometimes taking in Jewish refugees and letting them flee to the U.S.

Another thing I discovered is that Art Brut is actually the art of the mentally ill. Had no idea. A guy called Asdolf Woelfi was apparently big in Art Brut, his mental disorder being schizophrenia, and his crimes involving child abuse. Good that he's remembered as a Swiss hero.

I went to the Bistro Steinhaus for lunch and sat trying to read, though mainly ended up staring out at the falling snow, thinking about the future (the outcome; nothing decided, but no particular worries about it. Just going to see what happens, you know). I headed back out into the snow to take some photos. I smelt roasting chestnuts but couldn't work out how I was supposed to eat them when snow kept hitting my face and I was wearing thick gloves.

I walked around for a while (Bern's only small) and found myself in the Matte area, along Wasserwerkgasse. There was a tempting amount of snow, so I made a mini snowman on the ledge. I mean sure, it may seem odd for a 25 year old to be making a snowman next to a kids playground, but I was just caught up in the fun of it all. Simon looked pretty good. I picked him up to transport him to the playground to take some comedy photos of him on the slide and the swings, to send home. I'd secured him on a swing, when I noticed one of his eyes had fallen off in transport. Double-checking he was secure, I quickly ran to retrieve Simon's old-conker shell eye, and when I turned round, he was splattered on the floor. Gone. I felt like a mix between a kid who's dropped their ice cream and a parent who's dropped their child. Guiltily, I quickly backed away from the scene of the crime before anyone could see me. R. I. P. Simon.

 Pre Swing

I went to a place near my hostel/hotel called Kloeserli Weincafe. It was really cosy, warm and with candles everywhere and bottles of wine. I had a hot chocolate (what a treat) and then downloaded a book about wine on my Kindle. In my thoughts about the future, and after meeting the Kiwi winery worker, I figured if I wanted a career in wine making, I'd better know more about it than 'well, this tastes alright'. As I read, I ordered a mid-range glass of Sankt Laurent red and sat swirling and sniffing. Apparently the smell is really important. The book advised a test where you hold a piece of ripe pear under your nose, whilst eating a bit of apple. Apparently you'll taste pear.

The wine was good, and I stayed until it got dark. My siblings will be less than impressed that I've started using the pretend scribble on hand to get the bill like my dad does. They always used to take the mickey. It works though. And I figure it's better than yelling 'DIE RECHNUNG BITTE' across the room.

Went for a quick bite to eat then hit the hay in my private room. Lovely.

End of day 27.

* Later in their marriage, Einstein wrote a list of rules for his wife Mileva (who he'd met at University - she had also been a physicist), including; you must not speak to me unless spoken to, you must leave my meal outside my study every night and are NOT allowed in unless invited, you will not expect any signs of physical affection.

When they divorced (or she died?), Einstein went to live with his female cousin and her daughter for a while. He expressed an uncomfortable amount of interest in the younger woman, but said to them both in letter that he was happy to marry either of them, though it was up to them to decide. The younger girl liked him as a person, but found his sexual interest a bit offputting, as he was an old man.

Day 26: Munich to Bern

Highlights:

• Snow-covered German countryside
• Swiss Albert's impression of a Mancunian
• Bern

After my horrific lack of supplies on the train to Ljubljana, I made a trip to the local Lidl to stock up. At home, I love Lidl. Nothing is any logical order and it's all a bit potluck what you come out with. Usually some unbranded curry sauce and a cheap bottle of prosecco. When you're in a hurry, the lack of order is annoying. I came out with some water and two croissants for a 6hour journey. Brilliant.

I unmade my bed at the hostel as required (begrudgingly), checked out and headed to the station. To emphasise German train efficiency even further, the ticket office has one of those old-school deli ticket machines, where you wait comfortably in the chairs for your number to be called. On being told 'sie konnen aber sie nicht mussen reservier ein setz', I hopped on the train to Mannheim and found a cushty table seat. Cushty until a seemingly cute little girl came and sat opposite me and started innocently kicking me.

Housemate Abbie tells me I've described every location I've been as beautiful, so I'm going to do a little Joey from Friends inappropriate thesaurus usage to liven up my descriptions. The German countryside covered in snow was PHYSICALLY ATTRACTIVE. As the snow fell down, and we passed these little cabins, the view was just HANDSOME. We're talking seriously PULCHRITUDINOUS (what?)!

I changed in Mannheim, somewhere in South-West Germany I think, where it was snowing and icy cold. The cold you can only feel when standing on an exposed train platform for 30minutes. Lots of old ladies, in their thin old lady shoes were doing little keep warm feet dances, so I joined in. The trains to Basel were all delayed, presumably because of the snow, but it gave me the opportunity to cement the german word for 'platform' (gleis) to memory. So eventually onto Basel, and then onto Bern.

I arrived in Bern around 5pm. My guide had described it as 'the most underrated capital in Europe', and I think on first impressions, it's been the most impactful on this trip. For once, I didn't get lost, and trundled my way down the main street (Marktgasse) to head to my hostel in the East. The main road was bordered either side with covered walkways with unique shops on one side and huge archways allowing you back onto the street on the other. The view through these archways, with the snow falling in front of all these Diagon Alley shops, was RESPLENDENT.

I crossed the River Aare (Pub Quiz Fact) and found my hostel down a little stairway on Alternbergerstrasse. It was called the Landhaus by Albert and Frida, and I think I was welcomed in by Frida. She looked bemused when I mixed french and german in one sentance and switched to English for me then showed me around. I was in a 6-bed dorm, though these were split into 2-bed cabins, allowing a little more privacy. They had a cancellation, so I actually had my own cabin for the evening.

As is standard with my arrival in a new city (and most evenings really), I treated myself to some red wine (Fransozich, bitte). I then tried to work out the Swiss plug socket. Different from the rest of Europe, apparently. Albert had joined Frida behind bar and was excited when I asked for 'noch eins rot wein' (thanks, Gurk). "But your German is so good!" We had a little conversation about England. They loved London. Like every single person I've met on this trip, they said the people there are just so helpful and friendly. London may have its bad points, but I'd agree that the people are probably the friendliest and smiliest. There's more laughter in London than anywhere else. I felt a bit of pride, but again had to defend English cuisine. SIDE NOTE Seriously, why does no-one appreciate a good Shepherd's pie? It doesn't have to be covered in salt, butter and a rich sauce to be tasty. Shepherd's pie, or a nice stew, or bangers and mash. Quality cuisine.

I said to Albert I loved Germany, and had great first impressions of Switzerland. He mentioned that one of his favourite English phrases was "Don't mention the war!" (A Cleese fan). His second favourite was expressed to him in anger in Manchester. He'd just arrived and had headed to the pub when this drunk manc came up to him and said "fooking shitalian". Albert cackled as he retold this. "I wish I were a shitalian, but I'm just a boring Swiss". He repeated 'fooking shitalian' to himself a few more times, in quite a good Manchester accent.

So seeing as I was in Bern and Switzerland, famous for raclettes and fondues, I went and had Japanese for dinner. It's always odd being in a foreign country, ordering food from a different foreign country. Trying to work out Swiss-German pronunciation of Japanese words. Tricky. An expensive dinner, but it was worth it.

I headed back through the snow and the BEAUTEOUS (it's still different, Abbie), glittering lights of the small houses on the hill.

End of day 26.