No other blog post title would do justice in explaining my day today. Cows with Flowered Hats.
I’ll get to that in a minute, but let me start with Friday evening.
My hosts, Martin and Anne, have been absolutely wonderful. Very gracious and welcoming, and we get on really well together. Pretty sweet gig, here. They can be strange at times – I can’t always understand Martin (even though we are speaking the same language), and Anne has a German sense of humour. ’nuff said.
So on Friday night, Martin’s mum and step-dad flew to Basle for the weekend, from jolly old England. They rock.
Him mum, Wendy, is a sweet English woman – polite and proper, feigning shock and offense at the (frequent) … gaseous expulsions of Alan, Martin’s step-dad.
Alan is a big monster of a man. He’s into beer, good food, fast cars, the sea, and welding. A man’s man. Oh, and he hates the French with a fire that is shocking. Reminds me of my grandfather 😛
We decided to have a Swiss cultural experience on Saturday, so we hopped a train to a tiny town in central Switzerland called Schüpfheim. Every autumn, the Swiss villages near the Alps hold a festival where they bring the cows down from the high-altitude summer pastures. They clean them up, put big fancy bells on them, drape them with flowered hats and then parade them down through the villages. Unreal.
During the parade, we made our way along the packed sidewalks and alleys, through countless beer gardens (you can walk and drink beers anywhere in Switzerland) and sausage stands. So yummy!
We stopped in Lucerne for a few hours on the way home… such an awesome city!