A poster on the bus advertised the heats for the local yodelling festival. Not the festival itself, but the pre-competition to allow people to apply for the competition itself.
The whole point – or so we were told – of visiting Jungfraujoch was the view. 360 degrees of some of the most spectacular views in all of Europe; or nothing at all.
As the train descends the mountain towards the lake the sun burns pure blood red, catching in the mist. Trees flow down the steep slope to the lakeside.
I remember blancmange from my childhood and I remember enjoying it. The problem always was that it wasn’t as abundant as I felt it should be.
Montreux itself is nothing like the Switzerland you’d expect: there are no chocolate box chalets here, no rolling verdant landscapes, no snow-capped mountains.