January 23, 2007 - 16:23
(2nd entry for today)
THE PEOPLE
In 1964 an English authoress, Cicely Williams, had a book published called Zermatt Saga and this volume gives some of the best descriptions of the village that it has ever been my pleasure to read. It was 2001 before I discovered the book and found her memories of Zermatt in the 1930s well written and highly descriptive and give a wonderful account of some of the local people she befriended.
One such family in particular became her friends and by the time I had finished the book, I felt that I too had become friends with these people. Two of the main characters of this family were described in several chapters - Bernard and Paula Biner - and when I had read Zermatt Saga a few times over, I thought I would try to look them up the next time I visited Switzerland.
This next visit actually took place in the summer of 2002, and the first thing we did was locate the hotel owned by the family...the Bahnhof. As we approached the building we could see a brass plaque attached to the wall by the main door and found it be a memorial to the late Bernard Biner who died in 1964. This was sad but not totally unexpected; after all, we had no clear idea of his age and the book we had read had been published over forty years previously.
We took some tentative steps up to the door and went in. On the right hand side of the main corridor was a small office with it's door open and sitting inside was an elderly lady talking to two young French girls. When the girls left the lady smiled at us and enquired how she could help. Hesitatingly, we introduced ourselves and gave our reasons for this intrusion, apologising for any embarrassment we may be causing. We were ushered into the office and invited to sit down. The lady then introduced herself as Paula Biner! We were both overjoyed. She told us that Cicely Williams had died in 1986 and a few weeks prior to her death she had been staying in Zermatt as a guest of Paula in her house, the Chalet Rosa.
We showed Paula our copy of Mrs. William's book and she graciously signed it inside with a line reading "Happily remembering Mrs Cicely Williams and the meeting of Crystal & D...., 2002.
We continued chatting for twenty minutes or so before leaving this delightful lady to her book-work. As we were leaving, she invited us to visit her home later that evening for "a glass of wine and a little chat" and we were more than happy to accept. As we walked away from the Bahnhof, a mixture of exaltation and sadness came over us...the former due to our good fortune at finding Paula alive and in good health and the latter because of the deaths of her brother and friend.
We walked up the Bahnhofstrasse until we reached the Catholic Church, where we entered the cemetery. It took less than five minutes to find the grave of Bernard Biner, and his name was engraved on the same stone as that used many years before for his mother. His father's name was also present and it was nice to see that this family were as close in death as they were in life. I took a photograph of this memorial and we decided to ask Paula, later that evening, if there was anything planned to honour the memory of Cicely Williams.
In the meantime, we crossed the village square to a small souvenir shop opposite, to see another acquaintance of ours, Paul Truffer. I first met Paul during my first holiday in Zermatt and have made a point of visiting him on every subsequent visit. We told him of our meeting with Paula Biner and he smiled, saying that Paula was a great friend of his and mentioned that one of her weaknesses was biscuits. Thinking that this was an ideal gift for Christmas, I made a note in my exercise book as a reminder. We made a date with Paul for the following evening to join him for a drink at a local bar and left him to run his business.
Paul's shop is called Hanny's Boutique, named after his wife, Hanny, and the building is one of the most famous sites in Zermatt. In 1865, Edward Whymper made the first successful climb of the Matterhorn with six other mountaineers, but sadly, four of the party were to die on the descent. Whymper survived with two mountain guides from Zermatt, Peter Taugwalder Senior and his son Peter Junior, who lived together at what is today Hanny's Boutique. The building has changed very little, at least externally, over the last century and Paul is intent on keeping things that way. As I have mentioned before, the villagers are fond of tradition and their local history is very important to them. The first climb of the Matterhorn is a matter of great significance to the village and the Taugwalders were held in the highest esteem, to the point of becoming prominent figures in today's stories of Zermatt history.
After dinner that evening, D and I walked the short distance from the Atlanta Hotel to the Chalet Rosa and easily located Paula'a apartment. She invited us into her home and walking from the front door to the main living room, Paula pointed to a small room off to the side and informed us that this was the bedroom used by Cicely Williams on her visits to the Chalet. All the rooms were panelled with pine and teak, giving it the same appearance as we had imagined. Paula, or Pauly as she is known, was the perfect hostess. A bottle of wine was produced from the fridge and a plate of biscuits was already on the table. We talked at some length about her brother, Bernard and at one point, Pauly walked over to a large bureau and pulled out a small book. This proved to be Bernard's official guidebook, which is something all mountains guides are given on completion of their "examinations" at the start of their career. This book was mentioned several times in Zermatt Saga and to be able to read the actual document was a very great thrill and Pauly was obviously delighted at our enthusiasm.
A guide's responsibilities and obligations to his clients are well documented, but a client is given the opportunity to record his or her opinions of the guide into his guidebook (or Fuhrerbuch as it is locally called) and this can be read by any future prospective clients. Bernard's clients were well satisfied with their guide's performance judging by the very favourable and sometimes intensely commendatory remarks entered into his book. Included in this collection of approvals were, unsurprisingly, some from Cicely Williams herself and it seems as though Mrs Williams' feelings for her guide almost amounted to hero-worship.
In answer to our question regarding a memorial to her friend, Pauly told us of a plaque that may soon be mounted within the English Church but as she could give no further information on this subject, this was obviously something to be followed up at a later date.
We took a few photographs of Paula before we left her in peace and this meeting has since proved to be the start of a friendship that still exists today. Christmas cards are exchanged every year and this link with Zermatt during the winter is very much appreciated.
The next day was Saturday and we strolled across to the Anglican Church to try and find out some more regarding Cicely Williams' memorial. We were not in luck. The door was very securely bolted and several circuits of the church failed to find an alternative entrance. We knocked loudly on the twin arched doors in vain and were about to leave when two people approached with an air of authority. They looked enquiringly at us and when we told them our reason for being there they smiled and, producing a large key, they invited us inside. They headed towards the altar and we trailed behind, gazing around with great curiosity. At the altar, they turned to the right and entered a tiny office tucked away out of sight. Before we followed them in, we looked with great interest at the altar and the table placed in front of it, knowing that beneath them lays the body of the Reverend Charles Hudson who died on that first ill-fated climb of the Matterhorn.
When we caught up with the two church-wardens (as they proved to be), they were carefully unwrapping a parcel and when the final piece of paper was removed we saw a stone tablet engraved with a tribute to Cicely Williams. It was a simple but moving gesture on the part of the village and one of the wardens told us that this stone had only just been delivered and that it was due to mounted within the next few days. Mrs Williams would have been supremely proud.
On leaving the church, D saw a small book on display just inside the main doors. The warden told us it was for sale and on closer inspection we saw it was a history of the little church, written by Cicely Williams! We purchased our copy and also paid for a postcard illustrating the church interior. All money raised in this way went directly to the church funds, so by buying these items we felt we were also helping a good cause.
The book has been a mine of information, with some photographs that we had never seen before and there is even a prayer printed in the back which was composed by the Authoress. We thought that we had obtained a copy of virtually every book on sale in Zermatt that was written about the village, so it was wonderful to find yet another one!
That evening, we called at Paul Truffer's home, Haus Saphir, which is situated near the Sunnegga Express Station. For the second time in two days we were invited inside a Swiss home and this was very different to Pauly's. Haus Saphir is a very large building with three floors, which Paul rents out in high season. He gave us a guided tour of his home and it was fitted out to a very high standard indeed.
We all went to a bar just across the road where Paul ordered a glass of red wine for himself and lagers for me and D. We mentally added a bottle of red wine to our Christmas shopping list and surreptitiously questioned him on Hanny's likes and dislikes. We discovered her fondness for Quality Street sweets so this completed our list of presents for Zermatt, ready for when we returned that December.
Paul told us some more of the recent history of the village and even mentioned the fire at the Riffelalp Hotel. He had cause to remember this event as he was one of the fire-fighters at the scene! He also talked of the first Matterhorn climb and this subject will always be important to him seeing as his shop is such a famous Zermatt address. Paul talks in a very precise way and his English is excellent, which together means that we have no problem at all in following his stories and his reminiscing.
The Swiss are a reserved race; this we knew from our first holiday in the country, but after getting to know people like Paul and Pauly and meeting the church-wardens, we have to say that they are also some of the warmest, courteous and friendly people that it has been our pleasure to know. It is also a major reason why Zermatt is held in such high regard to those who fall under it's spell.
They are part of the Zermatt magic.
THE LOVELIEST VIEW
Nothing much ever happens on Sundays and this is true even in Zermatt. The locals head toward the Catholic Church at the first sound of the peal of bells for Mass and, as is customary in most villages, there is nothing open except, maybe, a chemist shop.
D and I decided to walk to Edelweiss; from there through the Trift Gorge to Trift and, finally, back via a scenic route to Zermatt. Everything went according to plan, at least until the afternoon - but let�s take things in the right order.
To avoid spending money at the expensive hostelries at Edelweiss and Trift we took a packed lunch consisting of rolls, chocolate, crisps and Coca-Cola. In addition I took two cameras (each with a zoom lens) and D had her own camera as well as the hired video camera, so we were both fairly heavily laden.
It took us ages to even reach the path that would lead us up to Edelweiss due to many �photographic opportunities� that presented themselves on our walk up the main street. We so rarely see this thoroughfare almost devoid of people that we took the chance to take pictures (stills and video) of the various shop-window displays and the flower-strewn balconies. The walk from our hotel to the Edelweiss path should have taken ten minutes - it took fifty! We were even taking pictures of the church square whilst people were trying to get past us to go to Mass which was a little embarrassing.
Anyway, just past the church square is the entrance to the path that we are to take and a signpost reads �Edelweiss - 45 minutes�. We start walking up the steep zigzag path pausing frequently to catch our breath - these pauses seemed to occur more often than in past visits to Edelweiss and we put this down to being older. The truth is we are nowhere near as fit as we once were! Another reason for the constant resting was that the higher we walked the better the views became and our cameras were constantly in use.
We had a prolonged rest on a large rock that was situated adjacent to a beautiful waterfall and, for D with her video camera, this was an excellent opportunity to film something that produced it�s own wonderful sound - rushing water is lovely to hear. During this �rest period� we munched some chocolate and said many �hellos� and �hi�s� to a constant stream of passing walkers. They could go on as fast as they liked - we were taking our time!
The sun got hotter and hotter and the Factor 15 sun-cream was dug out of my bag and applied liberally to our faces, necks and arms. Butterflies must like the smell of sun cream or something because, from this point on, I seemed to be decorated with them. D even tried to video the event! I felt like a Christmas tree.
We walked on and after endless hairpin turns we eventually saw the Swiss flag flying above us and this indicated the end of the first part of our walk - Edelweiss was in sight.
We were greeted by a medium-sized very hairy dog who growled a couple of times and then walked over to D and promptly rolled over onto his back with all four paws in the air, wanting his tummy tickled. We both spent a couple of minutes giving the dog raptures before setting off on the next stage of our journey through the wonderful Trift gorge. The path continues ever upwards, sometimes quite steeply but mostly at a comfortable incline with gorgeous views of the Alps that lie to the west of Zermatt - views that get closer and closer and more and more stunning. Throughout the journey the sound of water is a constant companion, either due to the many waterfalls or the rushing stream that flows over huge rocks littering the valley floor. The walls of the valley are heavily laden with pine trees and their unique scent along with the scenic views helps dispel all thoughts of hardship through having to walk uphill.
There are numerous places to rest, especially where the path and stream meet because at many of these junctions there are invariably huge, smooth rocks on which to sit and dip your hand into the freezing but reviving waters. We found it very pleasant to open a bottle of drink and savour the moment - beautiful scenery and warm sunshine. Suitably refreshed we refastened our bags and set off towards Trift. Although we have taken this same route three times before we are still taken by surprise at the suddenness of which we come upon the Trift Hotel. You are given no warning of your impending arrival at your destination - you simply walk round a steep bend and walk into it!
Despite just having had a drink no more than twenty minutes ago, we flop down on a sunny bench outside the building and, when the hotel keeper approaches us, we gasp out our request for two beers as though we hadn�t had any sustenance for hours! He disappears inside but promptly comes out again with two huge glasses of that excellent local beer �Cardinal Lager�.
We were halfway through our glasses of happiness when some clouds came from nowhere and instantly blotted out the sun. It wasn�t more than a minute later when D said she saw a hailstone but I thought she was mistaken - it was probably a drop of water being blown off the roof or something, but I soon had to take back my remarks as our table began to take a beating from hundreds of miniature white ice-balls dropping from the sky. We snatched up our luggage, cameras and beers and ran for cover into the Trift Hotel.
This is as good a time as any to describe, briefly, what this hotel is used for. It is a mountaineer�s hut primarily; to walk up this hotel from Zermatt and stay the night means that a prospective climb can be commenced at a suitably early hour and thus complete an expedition in a satisfactory manner and time. The hotel is not a hotel as most people would imagine - it looks very small and run down but, taking into consideration it�s remote and wild location, it doesn�t warrant being large or constantly painted. It looks rough, yes, but it serves it�s purpose admirably.
D and I had only walked by this hotel in the past so this was our first time inside it and because we had no idea of the layout we headed for the only room we could see that was lit. We stopped at the threshold realising it was the kitchen and so turned around and saw another room which looked more promising. This was a rustic dining room with the walls decorated with both colour and monochrome photographs of the surrounding panoramas. We went in and sat at a table near the door and looked around the simple room whilst sipping our beers in silence, listening to the hail now thudding against the windows. Actually, if it wasn�t for the fact that the room had any windows we would not have heard a thing due to the walls being so very, very thick.
Before long the hotel keeper came in and asked if we would like some �freshly cooked apple cake� and, of course, we agreed with much enthusiasm - after all, we hadn�t eaten for all of thirty minutes!
A few German people arrived while we were waiting and they nodded and smiled pleasantly and we swapped a few �hellos� for a few �guten tags� while they settled at a table further down the room. The keeper returned with two very generous helpings of what was a thin, puff-pastry base topped with loads of grated apple with a sprinkling of sugar and which was wonderfully hot. It was one of the most lovely dishes I have ever tasted and, at only 4.50 Swiss Francs a portion, was well worth it. While we were eating this culinary masterpiece the keeper was busy lighting a log-fuelled stove and soon the wonderful crackle of burning pine and the ensuing warmth only added to our feeling of contentment. Never-the-less, time was getting on and we were only half way through our journey so, after an hour and a half of pure bliss in that little room, we packed our gear and said a sad goodbye to the Germans and the keeper.
The pathway from the Trift hotel splits into two; the left path leads into the mountains which is the route that mountaineers take, whilst the path to the right leads, indirectly, back to Zermatt. The right-hand path sweeps around the back of the hotel and heads in a roughly north-easterly direction but after only three or four minutes out from the hotel there�s a tiny pathway that leads to the smallest chapel I�ve ever seen. Trift chapel was built in the mid 1800s and consists of a minute alter and one bench. There is a window high up in one wall but as the walls are only about eight feet high it is still possible to reach up and touch it. On the altar is a figurine of Mary and Jesus but otherwise the tiny room is devoid of religious paraphernalia. D and I took a couple of photographs each before we left the chapel, carefully closing the door behind us. The chapel, we assumed, was for the personal use of the staff of the hotel and/or the climbers that stay there. It�s hardly on the main tourist trail to attract much passing traffic.
It is also almost as run-down in appearance as the hotel it stands beside.
Rejoining the path we climbed steadily up the gentle gradient for almost half an hour, watching where we put our feet because of the loose stones and gravel, before it levelled out and, now that we don�t have to be quite so careful where we tread we can admire the views. Oh and what views! There are a myriad of fabulous panoramas around Zermatt but, in my opinion, none of them surpass the view from the high pathway on this western ridge of the Zermatt valley. This is truly the loveliest view.
The whole mountain range from the Dom in the north to the Matterhorn in the south and back north again to the Wetterhorn can be seen as one huge horseshoe of peaks but, unlike the view from Gornergrat which has a similar panorama, we are physically amongst these monoliths of rock rather than on a metaphoric island in a sea of mountains.
My camera was kept busy. The trouble was that, however hard I tried to take photographs that conveyed the feeling of immense space I found that the results of my efforts were far from satisfactory. Okay, yes, the pictures were sharp and all the mountain peaks were there but the whole set of photos were devoid of the atmosphere that was the primary sensation. Putting �feelings� into photographs is obviously a skill that I don�t possess but I�m hoping that it�s a skill that can be learned.
I�ll keep trying.
It took us about an hour to reach the point where the path started it�s decline but we had stopped several times, often for extended pauses to drink in the views. Now I�m not at all sure what happened but a few minutes after commencing the walk back down the valley-side my right leg started aching and the further I walked the worse the ache became until, after only fifteen minutes, the ache became a very definite pain. I was forced to limp so slowly that D had to wait for me which is a complete reverse of normal operations! I�m always a few steps ahead of her as she is a relatively slow walker but this time the tables were turned. I tried to walk on the very right-hand edge of the path so that my right leg was in the �gully� which meant that at least I didn�t have to bend that leg at the knee. This, at least, relieved the very worst of the pain but it meant I walked slower than ever. Now, I did recall that, on our first day in Zermatt, we walked for a long time in the area of Sunnegga and my right leg was aching a bit from the exertions of the day and I wondered if my leg was playing up once more now that I was walking downhill again. Anyway, the pain stayed with me for the entire walk back down to Zermatt.
Once at the village, I hobbled across the road and purchased some cream from the Pharmacy and we spent 10SF on an electric taxi to take us back to the hotel. The cream was a godsend and within 24 hours all I could feel was a slight niggle but I could put up with that. This magic cream was unlike anything I had seen in Britain because it froze the pain. In England most creams are massaged into the muscles and it �warms� away the pain; this one �froze� it away and it WORKED.
The evening was spent in a bar discussing our day�s walk. Well, to be more accurate, D�s walk and my limp. In my notepad I wrote down whatever small details that we could both recall, such as the quantity of tables in the hotel at Trift for example, and those notes have come in very useful in the writing of this document! A couple of wines later the memories of the day seemed to become even nicer but, to be honest, I don�t really need drink to remind me of the panorama from the top of the valley.
I�ve never seen a lovelier view.
ZERMATT IN WINTER
Zermatt has always been wonderful in summer; pine trees in various shades of green, mountains with snow on their peaks and everyone lazing in the sunshine after a long hike through the high hills. I had experienced three summers in succession in this lovely village... the first time I came alone and twice afterwards with my girlfriend D. We felt it was time to see what Zermatt had to offer the winter visitor apart from many slopes to ski down, so we booked up for a week in December not really knowing what to expect.
The plane landed at Geneva and we went through the customs and passport controls as normal, but from there on nothing was the same. The first big difference was the fact that the onward trip to Zermatt was going to be by motor coach instead of by train and this allowed us to see a slightly different view of the countryside. The fact is, even if the journey had been by train, the countryside would still have looked different because everything was buried under several inches of snow instead of being bathed in bright sunshine! I don�t mean to imply that the sun wasn�t out but the snow certainly made everything look very unlike that which we were used to.
The Zermatt valley by road looks the same as from the train because the route taken by the railway and the road are adjacent to each other and once Tasch has been reached, the remainder of the journey is by the familiar red train. We piled out of the coach at Tasch and at once my feet started to freeze! Although I possess a very good pair of walking boots which will keep my feet protected from all kinds of difficult conditions, I did not think of wearing them for the journey to Switzerland...they were still in my suitcase. All I had on my feet were socks and a pair of trainers which is normally perfectly adequate for travelling in. However, in this particular case it was far from adequate. We had to wait for the luggage to be unloaded from the coach before we could collect it and take it to the train and my feet were numb long before our cases even appeared! My lesson has been quickly learned. Since then, every holiday taken in the mountains starts with me wearing my walking boots, even in the height of summer...just in case!!
The short train journey to Zermatt was like travelling through a scene taken from the front of a Christmas card. It was hard to believe that the trees could possibly hold so much snow without the branches breaking off and indeed, there were so many fallen logs amongst the landscape that maybe the weight does become too much in the end. Wild flowers try valiantly to keep their heads above the white mass but here and there among the trees a few winter blooms can be glimpsed, adding colour to the dazzling snowfields. The Mattervisp flows freely enough despite a few small blocks of ice that are growing up to try and become a major obstacle, while the glacier on the west side of the valley has grown enormously since summer and it now reaches much further down the valley wall than when last seen. The few mountains that can be sighted from the train are now mostly smothered in a blanket of snow and ice as opposed to just their peaks and north-facing walls and this gives us a clue as what awaits us in Zermatt!
As the train pulled into the tiny station, my feet had just about started to thaw out and I had to leave the warmth of the carriage and once again trudge through the thick, white, cold but beautiful snow up the bahnhofstrasse towards our hotel. My feet froze once again but this time I hardly felt the discomfort as I gazed in total disbelief at �my� village. The transformation was incredible! I was walking through a winter wonderland!
Let us start with the sight as D and I left the station. The horses were still standing outside awaiting their guests, but in place of the colourful carriages that they pulled along in summer were equally colourful sledges, their runners deep and shiny. As we walked, open-mouthed at the sheer charm of everything, we noticed that rows of tiny Christmas trees were used to decorate the shops on both sides of the street, but these trees were above the doorways and made an almost unbroken chain for as far as the eye could see. These trees were ablaze with thousands of white fairy lights which gleamed against the backdrop of snow that had accumulated on the building walls.
Very young children were being pushed along the Bahnhofstrasse by their parents, but instead of the usual pushchairs with wheels, these too had been adapted to winter conditions and the pushchairs were now miniature sleighs!
The shops we passed were the same as when we saw them in summer with the exception of the sports shops which now displayed bright, multi-coloured skiing outfits and equipment in place of the mountaineering items that we had become accustomed to seeing. The street was busy with shoppers and walkers and yet the snow was still very deep and very white. We learned later that snow had been falling on and off during the day and that much more was expected to fall before tomorrow.
We passed the Otto Furrerstube and saw that a huge unbroken blanket of snow had replaced the green grass of summer and it was apparent that any meals or drinks purchased there during winter would need to be consumed indoors. Trade seemed to be brisk inside the restaurant when we peeped in the windows, so the lack of garden trade did not seem to be too detrimental.
We approached our hotel and saw a light shining brightly from high above it, seemingly from the valley wall...the lights of the Edelweiss Hotel twinkled in the dusk of late afternoon and we saluted the hardy souls who spent much of their life fully a thousand feet above the village, with no visitors to disturb their peace.
Before entering the hotel, I glanced in the direction of the Matterhorn and it certainly looked very different to when I left it in Summer. It was now cloaked in white which gave it an almost ghostly appearance and it looked even more inaccessible than usual.
The warmth of the hotel reception contrasted with the sharp, cold air outside. My feet were almost numb but I was feeling in high spirits in the way you do when just starting a holiday. We were given a typically cordial welcome by the hotel landlady and within minutes we were in our room running a bath whilst we speedily unpacked. We explored the room which, being a standard double bedroom, didn�t take long but we found that exploring the contents of our mini-bar was quite good fun. We both bathed and then quickly dressed in warm clothes, including boots!
We were ready to explore.
We had arrived in Zermatt with a couple of gifts for some friends we had made in Summer so we picked up the carrier bag and walked the short distance to a souvenir shop that is situated across the narrow street, opposite the church. Paul and Hanny own this shop, called Hanny�s Boutique, and we could see Paul sorting through his postcard rack as we peered through the large shop window. We opened the door, hearing the familiar chimes as we entered and Paul looked up with a welcoming smile. This smile is an automatic greeting from Paul � one he gives to all his prospective customers but, thankfully, he duly recognised us and we were chatting away like old friends within a few seconds.
We gave Paul a bottle of red wine for himself and a large tin of Quality Street chocolates for Hanny which he accepted with profuse thanks and I think he may have even have been a little embarrassed. We were invited to join him and his wife for dinner one evening which we assured him we�d look forward to doing and he also asked us to excuse him for a moment while he made a phone call. While he was on the phone, D and I looked at the souvenirs on sale; some were the usual tacky and cheap items that you find in every resort but Hanny�s Boutique also stocks several more expensive and highly desirable items such as original paintings and genuine Swiss-carved ornaments. In only a couple of minutes Paul ended his phone call and asked us to step outside his shop for a minute. With no clue of what was happening we walked outside and Paul came with us wearing a self-conscious grin. The sound of bells caught our attention and they became louder as they drew nearer � a horse drawn sleigh came and stopped beside us, small musical bells chiming as they hung from the horse-brasses and the carriage canopy. Paul helped us into the carriage and waved us off as we went for a twenty minute ride around the snow-bound village.
It was unbelievably beautiful.
The main street, the Bahnhofstrasse, was still as packed with people as it was earlier in the year but this time each footstep they took made a fresh imprint in the softly falling snow. In only minutes the snow would cover most of the footprints and new ones would take their place. Even the tracks from the sleigh runners seemed to vanish almost immediately.
Each of the major hotels had a huge Christmas tree in it�s grounds and each of them was smothered in huge bright red glass baubles that reflected the myriad of twinkling white lights that adorned the exterior walls of the buildings around. We noticed that, on the corner outside the Zermatterhof Hotel, the marmot fountain had frozen solid and the brass creatures seemed to literally encased in ice. Turning up a tiny side-street beside the church we made our way uphill to the old quarter where tiny weather-beaten wooden chalets clustered together against the elements. These huts look enchanting in the summer with the sunlight bathing them in gold � making them look like something from a children�s fairytale. In winter this perception was magnified a hundred-fold. It was a scene straight from a Christmas card with roughly hewn wooden fences surrounding each tiny patch of land, with each fence post topped with snow with only a few birds� footmarks disturbing the otherwise virgin white surfaces. The church bells chimed loudly behind us and very soon whole families spilled out of the houses behind the wooden storage chalets, everyone chatting and greeting each other as they made their way to church. The villagers of Zermatt are, on the whole, a deeply religious people and this flock of worshippers would be witnessed by the two of us several more times before the end of the holiday.
There is a lot to be said for being able to live within a traditional Christmas card picture and, who knows, maybe one day I will?
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