Switzerland

We woke up in the small skiing village of Zermatt at the base of the magnificent Matterhorn Mountain. The Matterhorn is a sublime icy finger of snow pointing up to the sky and attempting to contradict the disbelief of doubters like me. The air is clear and clean, devoid of the pollution of American politics.

We had come from Geneva on a train with broad, high Windows, along lush green valleys beneath ice-capped mountains. One's only comparison would be an idealized imagination of Shangra La. My lady, Julie, said it was like being on another perfect planet.

The people of Switzerland are all slim. The women are all lovely and the men are all handsome. As Garrison Keelor might say, the children are above-average. The residents favor cheese fondue, croque monsieur, (or ham and melted cheese sandwiches), and good French wine. So do I. Geneva is surrounded by France, and everybody speaks french. The people are friendly. Everything is frightfully expensive. They speak German in most of eastern Switzerland and Italian in the South. In a couple of isolated mountain villages they speak something called "Romansh" which is like ancient Latin.

Surprisingly, there are Pizza restaurants everywhere. One doesn't know whether this is because of tourist preference or local taste. The pizza is thin-crust and delicious. You can pick-up a Rolex watch anytime for a few thousand bucks. Everything is clean and orderly. The chalets are brown and white and charming. There are occasional castles and chateaux, and the chateaux of the great misanthrope, Voltaire, is in nearby France. 

Because Switzerland remained neutral during World Wars I and II, most of the structures are preserved from long ago (I question the morality of neutrality against the Nazi horror, but I can see the advantages of avoiding the barbarity of war's mass slaughter and destruction). 

The people are among the wealthiest in the world. You better be to afford the prices. The banks hold much of the world's money. Every bakery and candy store makes its own chocolate. The chocolate is outstanding. So is the cheese.

Geneva is at the foot of Lake Geneva and a huge spout called the "Jet d' Eau" springs up out of the harbor. The harbor is bejeweled by gorgeous balconied hotels. Word is that many of the mansions along the east coast are owned by billionaire Russian oligarchs. You can eat at one of the hotel restaurants if you cash-in you 401-K retirement account.

We took pictures everywhere and sent them to friends and family. One beloved friend wrote back, "Stop sending the d....d pictures. I'm on my way to Kiwanis."

Well, it would be nice to live in this lovely corner of the world, but it will be good to get home to Xenia.