Day 14 – Lucerne, Switzerland

For kicks, I asked ChatGPT to turn this entry into a short rhyming poem. If you want to skip the longer read and just get the highlights, the poem sums the day up pretty well: 

We woke in Zürich, bags in hand,
A morning train to Lucerne’s land.
Through streets so small, a five-minute stride,
To the wooden bridge where flowers hide.

Once built in the 1500s, kissed by flame,
Few paintings left to bear its name.
Crowds pressed close, the river gleamed,
Like stepping into someone’s dream.

A shaded lunch along the stream,
Hugo and Aperol, our steady theme.
The children played, the cards were spread,
Slow hours drifting as the day was fed.

Then split in two—some strolled to art,
Where charcoals and pastels played their part.
We joined to paint, to simply be,
Hands moving soft and mind set free.

Time before our train still grew,
So on a whim, across the blue,
We steered a boat through sparkling light,
A fleeting, perfect half-hour flight.

Dinner lost to time’s quick slip,
No food aboard our mountain trip—
Yet golden hour through Alps did pour,
Through windows stretching to the floor.

Interlaken’s tracks gave way
To Lauterbrunnen’s bright display.
Waterfalls from cliffs on high,
Snow peaks sharp against the sky.

At last, our home, the view so wide,
A waterfall’s song at the mountainside.
Pretzels, fruit, and eggs to share,
In a place too magical to compare.

We woke up in Zürich and made a quick breakfast before repacking our backpacks for the next leg of the trip. By mid-morning, we were on a train bound for Lucerne, ready to spend the day exploring.

After stashing our backpacks and small bags of random groceries, we wandered into the center of town. The heart of the city is no more than a five-minute walk from the station. Our first stop was the iconic wooden bridge, diagonally spanning the river like something out of a painting. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that a structure built in the 1500s burned in 1993, with only a handful of its original paintings saved. We joined the other tourists, shuffling through the crowd, pausing for photos, looking out of the begonia and geranium-decked rails.

We ducked into a church—its name escapes me—and admired the frescoes before the kids began lobbying for lunch. We found a table along the river, settling into the shade. Jen and I have our drink routine down: a Hugo for her, an Aperol Spritz for me, and a jug of tap water for the table. The kids dealt the cards while we enjoyed the unhurried rhythm of a European meal. 

After lunch, we split. Addison and I went shopping, while Jen took Evan and Kate to another church where they stumbled upon a pop-up art room. Charcoals, paint pens, tempera paint, and pastels were set out along with fresh jars of water and thick paper. It was an unexpected treasure. Addison and I eventually joined them, each of us taking a quiet moment to make something of our own.

Our panoramic train to Lauterbrunnen wasn’t leaving until 6:00 p.m., so we had time to stroll along the waterfront. On a whim, we decided to rent a small motorboat and spent half an hour cruising the lake. It was entirely unplanned and perfect.

We returned to the train station, hoping to grab some dinner before boarding, but time slipped away, and the options were slim. We figured we’d eat on the train only to discover there was no food service. Fortunately, the view more than made up for it. We scored first-class seats in the panorama car, with massive windows that curved up into the ceiling. The train wound its way through the Alps at golden hour, the light bathed fields and mountains in a dreamlike glow. 

We reached Interlaken around 8:00 p.m., just in time to make our transfer to a Jungfrau regional train. We made sure to board the right section, headed for Lauterbrunnen, not Grindelwald, and settled in for the final stretch. Snow-capped mountains peaked their heads for the first time, and we were giddy with anticipation. We entered Lauterbrunnen with our mouths hanging open at the sheer beauty of the valley village where we would spend our next four nights. Waterfalls spill out of high cliffs on all sides, and our apartment faces the snow-capped Jaungfrau. The kids were given options of pretzels, ramen, fruit, or hard-boiled eggs for dinner, but no one complained as we unpacked into our magical new home. We can hear the waterfall from our balcony, and every window has views of the mountains.