Nadine Feldman, Author

celebrating strong female characters and whatever else strikes my fancy

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Loving the Lord (Byron, that is!)/Leysin

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Henry has wanted to visit a castle in Montreux and has talked about it for some time, even before we left Houston. Although I felt certain I would enjoy such a visit, I have focused more on being outdoors in my beloved mountains. Castle? Okay, whatever.

Then, last night, I leaned over as he looked at their website, and a word jumped out at me. Chillon. THE Chillon? The word transported me back to seventh grade in DePue, Illinois, and the poem that made me fall in love with words.

My hair is gray, though not with years, nor grew it white in a single night as men’s have grown from sudden fears. My limbs are bowed, though not with toil, for these have been a dungeon’s spoil.

That poem, Byron’s The Prisoner of Chillon, was inspired by a friar who was imprisoned in the castle for six years. I imitated his style with my own epic poems written in the privacy of my room, pages and pages long since discarded. For me, the lonely New Kid in Town at an age when everything about me felt awkward, Byron’s poetry took me to a place inside where only grace and fluid joy exists. It would take me many years to understand that I must write, if only for the sake of writing, to access this special place from which the rest of my life springs forth.

We have bumped in to Byron previously on our travels. Between he and Mark Twain, we will have decades of traveling to do to keep up with their adventures. However, this visit today, this castle visit, takes me deep into the heart of Byron. What a blessed life I have to be able to walk in his footsteps.

Getting to Chillon was an adventure in itself. Yesterday, we traveled for five hours from Grindelwald to the village of Leysin, where cow pastures are replaced by vineyards up and down the hills, and even in the middle of Aigle, another village on the way here. For two hours of the trip, we rode a panorama train, elegant with wood trim and tables on the inside. On each table sat a small lamp that illuminated the interior of the car with soft light during trips through tunnels. We ate cheese (what else? It’s Switzerland!) and drank Swiss wine on our journey, and chatted with three Swiss ladies who were planning a ladies’ day out in Montreux.

From Montreux it took two more train trips of about 40 minutes total to get up the mounain to Leysin, a sleepy French-Swiss village. We know we’re in the French part, because the restaurants open late for dinner!

Our apartment is beautiful, and where the Grindelwald chalet was quaint and cute, this one is sleek and modern, with every techie gadget one could dream of. Henry is in hog heaven! We have a 1.2 mile walk into Leysin for all our needs, so we get a good walk in just going to and fro.

To get to Chillon, we went to the village of Villeneuve and walked another 30 minutes or so to the Castle. Our Swiss Rail Pass gave us free admission, and we splurged for the audio guide. Henry took all the pics today, so I will bug him to post his on FB.

From there, we took a bus to Vevey to walk around. Vevey is a curious place, and not entirely pleasant. It’s supposed to be very upscale and lah-dee-dah, but I saw evidence of some creepy drug use around the train station. Still, we had a nice walk along Lake Geneva and found a hotel with some awesome desserts.

This evening we are staying in and cooking at the apartment. Our host left us wine and other goodies, including eggs, so we will have an elegant French omelette dinner. In fact, Leysin lends itself to relaxation. For many years tuberculosis patients came to Leysin to recuperate, and we feel a sense of moving into the “slow travel” mode. We have a fabulous view to enjoy. This is a great place to just “be.” So, while we do have some hiking and other activities planned, we are slowing our rhythm…and it feels good.

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Hiking does not get old here in the Bernese Oberland, at least from a sightseeing standpoint. My legs might beg to differ, but each day has brought surprising diversity to our trip.

Yesterday, we took a cable car to Pfinstegg, which consists of…wait for it…a restaurant. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but each hike, train, gondola, funicular, cable car, or God knows what else ends at a restaurant. One cannot stay hungry in this place–well, except for the fact that we don’t care for German food–but I digress. I will write more on our food challenges another time.

Anyway, from Pfinstegg we hiked for about an hour and a half with a 1,200 foot climb ending at…a restaurant. The point of all of this is to view a glacier on Eiger Mountain up close and personal.  I was wimpy that day, with my legs bits of rubber underneath me, but the locals who zipped by me, some of whom are MUCH–even decades–older than we are, awakened my competitive streak.

From time to time we hear strange booming sounds, and we realized on this hike that these are the sounds of portions of glaciers breaking off (a normal and expected occurrence). On this hike, the sounds were particularly loud.

As an aside, we have learned that the glaciers are receding at an alarming rate…not trying to get political here, but I’m just sayin’…this made hearing and seeing them this close even more extraordinary.

We headed back down and skipped a second, and easier, hike, since it was a work day for Henry, and I needed to wash some clothes. We ate lunch in Grindelwald, then ate the leftovers for dinner (the food’s not great, but there’s a lot of it).

Today took us in yet another direction. Thankfully for our sore legs, we chose a more passive activity. That is, we took the train to Interlaken, then an hourlong boat ride on Lake Brienz, then a steam train to the summit of Rohthorn. Lake Brienz is an odd, milky turquoise color from the glacier silt. Clouds and rain gave the distant mountains an eerie feel. The clouds lifted enough at the summit to allow us plenty of photo ops. We ate lunch at the summit…yes, another restaurant. Then we took the train down, rewarded ourselves with apple strudel (okay, not all the food is bad), wandered around Brienz, and came back.

Tomorrow is our last full day in  Grindelwald, so we are headed to Bern to get a taste of Swiss city life.

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Big Hike, Little Hike, Inspiration?

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The hike from Schynige Platte to First is considered one of the best in Switzerland. We were cautioned that it is strenuous, 10 miles with about 2,500 feet of climbing. We had planned to do it on Thursday, but the weather is expected to change, and this hike is a must-see.

We made the 6:49 a.m. train, then connected to the Little Engine that Could. Seriously. We were on a 100-year-old train that puttered up the hillside, and we wondered how we would make it. The train ride alone was worth the trip, though, with even the Swiss train employees gazing out at the beauty surrounding us.

After hiking for three hours, we stopped at a tiny bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere for a snack. Clouds rolled in, cooling things off, which we didn’t mind. At first we felt too warm, and there are few trees to provide shade, so the cooling made the hike more comfortable.

After that point, the hike became a meditation. I needed single-minded focus to find the right placement of feet and poles so as not to lose footing on the loose shale on the steep ascent. And, of course, I had to remember to stop to catch the view. We took our time, ignoring the locals with their mountain goat nimbleness, and we made it through with no incidents.

Was it worth it? Oh, yes. 360 degrees of jaw-dropping splendor, from glacial mountains to Sound of Music meadows. Pictures are amazing but do not do justice to the sense of life and accessibility of these mountains. Will these mountains show up in my writing somewhere? Yeah, count on it. I just hope I can come up with some words by then to describe them.

Exhausted and with sore feet, but triumphant, we took a gondola from First to Grindelwald, where, looking and feeling like something the cat dragged in, we had to navigate through the town’s monthly street market. We grabbed pasta from a restaurant and hurried to the quiet of our apartment.

Today we decided to take it easy. We only hiked seven miles! This hike, though, was almost entirely on level ground. Our goal was to see the Trummelbach Falls, which collects runoff from three major mountains. The falls themselves are inside a mountain, so we took a lift that gave us entry inside, where we could view the falls from multiple vantage points. I shot a brief movie on my camera of the falls so we could capture their roar–if it turns out, I will post it on FB.

We then took a cable car to Murren, a charming village, where we ate lunch and enjoyed, yes, the view. Murren hugs a hillside with a 2,500 foot sheer dropoff.

Afterward we walked for another three miles among the trees. Ready to collapse, though not as sore as yesterday, we made it back to Grindelwald and home sweet home (until Saturday).

Tired as I am, I am inspired by the landscape and being out in it. Last night I drafted a synopsis of a new novel and introduced myself to several characters. Since it has to do with travel, this trip is research!

Swiss Explorations Part I

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The sun streams in through open windows in our Grindelwald apartment. In the distance I hear the rhythmic chiming of cowbells. As I look out the window, a mountain rises up, with houses dotting the lower parts, and thick forest up above.

Yesterday was spent getting here, as the train ride from Geneva to Grindelwald takes about four hours. Along the way we had a great view of Lake Geneva and saw cows, goats, sheep, deer, and buffalo, all grazing happily in the open meadows. Initially everyone spoke French, but at Bern the train filled with backpacks, with everyone in hiking boots and chatting away in German. One woman was talking and switching back and forth between the two languages, and even threw in a little Italian along the way. (Even the Swiss whose main language is German seem to say “merci” when thanking customers.)

We found our apartment with the help of a cab driver, and spent the rest of the day exploring the town. We have already been to the grocery store, the bakery, and the cheese shop, so we’re right at home. There’s a sporting goods store on every corner and then some, so no problem if we need any gear! Henry wants me to add that the local cheese is excellent. “It really tastes like cheese!”

This morning we decided to tackle the Jungfrau, billed as “the top of Europe.” Standing nearly 12,000 feet, the icy Jungfrau intimidates. The train takes 1 1/2 hours to get to the top, where the vistas–and the wind–take one’s breath away. Dressed in plenty of layers, we stayed comfortable, although I didn’t enjoy walking down a path of sheer ice! I have several photos of ice sculptures from the Jungfrau, which I will post on Facebook.

On the way down, we stopped at Kleine Scheidegg, one of the many mountain villages dotting the landscape. We had been advised by those in the know to order the Rosti, or hash browns, at the train station restaurant. Full of potatoes and salad, we made our first hike, a modest three-mile walk to Mannlichen, another mountain village. The trail was full of people and dogs enjoying the fresh air…we hardly ever hear English here, so most of the tourists at this time of year are from nearby, speaking German and French. (We also saw several Japanese tour groups.)

At Mannlichen, we had a soda and took the gondola down to Wengen, which is the favorite village of a woman on Trip Advisor who has helped us with hiking information. However, Wengen closes down at the beginning of October until just before Christmas, when the ski season gets underway there, so it took us all of about ten minutes to scope out the town. From there we took the train back to Kleine Schidegg, had a snack, and then came back to Grindelwald. We will need to get up early tomorrow for our first daylong hike, so it feels good to rest a bit.

Packing Lightly

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Despite frequent travel, I never find the right amount of clothing to pack. Sometimes, as in when we went to Italy, we locate a laundromat on the Internet ahead of time so we know when and where we will get to wash clothes. In Israel, however, our laundry plans went awry when we had to change hotels unexpectedly, and we ended up washing our underwear in the hotel sink. Add to that an Air France strike that delayed our return home, and I ended up wearing clothes on the long plane ride that, well, weren’t quite as fresh as I would like. Usually, though, I overprepare and end up bringing clean clothes home.

This time, we’re headed to Switzerland and France. In addition to the clothing options, challenged by three different sets of temperatures, we have hiking gear to consider. Still, I am determined to pack lightly. Yesterday, all packed, I then unpacked everything to move it to a smaller suitcase, which forced me to make some hard choices. I decided I didn’t need to take two vests, for example,  just because they’re both cute, when one will do. I discovered that in my panic about being gone for an entire month, which is new for me, I WAY overpacked. Now I am happy with a smaller suitcase that will work much better as we navigate the Swiss railway system.

In addition to lightening the suitcase, there are other ways to pack lightly. For me, that has meant working hard to get writing projects to a certain point so they can “cool” while I’m gone, and I won’t feel compelled to work on them. I have promised myself that for this month, in the midst of exploring and hiking and immersing myself in different cultures, I get to work on new stuff. In working hard ahead of time, my mind is relaxed and clear, making room for new stories.

I read a lot of travel narratives, and I’m not sure what I can offer that is new or different–Peter Mayle, for example, seems to have Provence locked up–but my job is to travel lightly, with a light suitcase and a light heart, and to write whatever comes of that. So, the next installment of this blog will come to you from Grindelwald, Switzerland, where I have a date with mountains, cheese, and chocolate, not necessarily in that order.

Packing the Right Suitcase

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My husband and I love to travel. Because both of us require only a computer keyboard and, in his case, an Internet connection, we have the good fortune to be able to work–and play–in many different locations. This fall we will experiment with a month-long trip to Switzerland and Provence, where we will hike and bike our way throughout the region. Henry will work three days a week, and I will shop in the markets, using my rudimentary French to buy fresh food for cooking…I’ll add here that cooking is, for me, a relaxing activity, especially when I am not loaded up with other tasks.

When I’m rejuvenating in the presence of nature, new ideas spring forth without effort. Almost as soon as I leave Houston, that “still small voice” begins to chatter away like an excited child, and I can barely keep up. Since I’ve been spending my energy almost entirely in book production lately, I welcome the opportunity to experiment with new material, and perhaps spruce up some drafts that I have lying around.

Today, in preparation for the big trip, we are taking a smaller one to Estes Park, Colorado. We have practiced using our new trekking poles and want some real-world practice, away from Houston’s flat, concrete sidewalks. We have thoughtfully equipped our backpacks to account for weather changes and longer hikes. Of course, this means that packing the suitcase is a different experience. Despite my best intentions to pack lightly, all the equipment takes up a lot of room. It meant choosing a different suitcase. It meant taking fewer changes of clothing, with the intention of re-wearing certain items. It took extra time and care to account for these deviations from my typical packing routine.

Each writing project feels a little like that. Patchwork and Ornament has given me the experience of a book containing visual imagery as well as text. When a Grandchild Dies required me to develop interviewing skills. Exodus demands a deeper observation of the inner self. Blood and Loam, my first novel, provides numerous writing lessons, especially “how not to write a novel.”

As I finish packing my suitcase, I find that in the end, it is packed, complete. Ultimately, if I take my time, everything I need will fit comfortably inside. I may feel a bit clumsy at times. I may worry about whether or not I “did it right.” Sometimes I’ll wonder if I can get the darn thing closed, if I can get everything to fit.

Once my suitcase is filled, I can then travel. Each book’s journey provides an opportunity to meet new people, to learn to skills, and to improve confidence. When I wrote When a Grandchild Dies, I had no idea what a unique and special journey I was about to undertake…and I am looking forward to all the future travels.