And so. Back in May, for Mike's birthday, we went to probably our favorite old-school-fancy-schmance Zürich institution, the Veltliner Keller, which has been in continuous use as a restaurant since 1551, and is located in a fantastic (and really old) building right next to St. Peter's in the old town. The food is more-or-less classic Swiss (with some French thrown in for good measure), is absolutely terrific, and--my favorite part!!--they give you seconds. Yep. From what I can gather, each order is made a certain size, and they bring it to you in rounds, which means that there's more if you want it. (And if you're really envious of someone else's side dish, say, they might even bring to you your own portion of it. Which they did for me once.) Plus, they let us practice our terrible German with them, even though they know we are English speakers, and the service is all-around exquisite. In conclusion, you should have dinner there sometime, for real. Also, here's this photo of the room in which we had our own delicious, delicious dinner.
Look at that ceiling. Honestly.
Next up, and, sadly, without photos, a motorcycle trip out to the middle of nowhere to buy some new (safer, better, more comfortable!) motorcycle pants. People, with the exception of the cold and rainy weather that seems to prevail during summer weekends, Switzerland is just a phenomenal place to ride (see also: our trip this past weekend over the Sustenpass, also with no photos, but sheesh). Things we saw on our pants-buying expedition: a Smartcar with tiger stripes; fields of lettuce (which I've never actually seen in nature before--so pretty, all lime green and dark purple!); several gargantuan metal dragons (from these people); some really stunning old-Swiss chalet-style buildings (mainly barns and small storage-y outbuildings, oddly enough, with lots of scrollwork); a field full of cows separated from a car dealership only by a thin, flimsy wire fence; and heaps of Camaros, Corvettes, Mustangs, a Plymouth station wagon, an old finned Caddy, a Cutlass, and a Viper or two, all doing laps around some small town after an American car show. That last bit was surreal, but also, those people had some nice (and nicely maintained) cars.
In July came Caliente, the "Latin Music Festival" in Zürich, which features booth after booth of bars selling mojitos and caipirinhas and a smattering of really, really good (and hard-to-find) food. We came, we saw, we enjoyed the beautiful weather and stuffed ourselves silly with fejoada; something Mexican and soft-taco-like called a "Gringa" (ha, ha, but tasty: chopped pork, avocado, onions, and a terrific spicy red salsa on a white flour tortilla); an absolutely awesome smoked pork tamal from the Peruvian stand (also with a tremendous and spicy red-pepper salsa, and peanuts); some pork soft tacos (more genuinely spicy salsa, plus a nice avocado sauce); a really excellent seafood paella; and a cone full of tiny churros. Mmmmmm. And, lest you think we only pay attention to the food, we stopped and appreciated a samba drum line for a while; watched some Carnaval-dressed ladies gyrate around a man singing in Portuguese; and admired some excellent salsa dancers. I love it when culture comes to town.
We also had our first taste of Serbian food, at the lovely Restaurant Altberg. The leader of our little group, being Serbian himself, ordered for us, and the resulting bowls of super delicious flat-yet-quite-puffy bread, plates of starters (thinly-sliced smoked ham; two types of house-made cheese; ajvar; whole red peppers roasted with garlic and topped with vinegar and oil), and gigantic platters of grilled meats (thin slices of liver; house-made sausages; pork steak; skewered pork chunks; and ground meat patties over some more of that amazing cheese) were entirely fantastic. Also, we tried our first slivovice, which came in these delightful little glasses that were shaped like tiny hookahs. (I wanted to bring mine home.)
And then, at the end of July, came my now-favorite Swiss festival of them all: the Festival de Cor des Alpes, in Nendaz, which is in the Valais region, just on this side of the border with France. I read about this thing as an alp horn festival and competition, but it was so much more: it was tiny and full of locals--hooray!--was set in a gorgeous little ski village with ridiculous views, and featured a little bit of everything traditionally Swiss. Holy smokes, what a good time we had. Warning: lots upon lots upon lots of photos (and videos, but they're mostly really short) ahead.*
After a long, freezing cold, and--of course!--rainy ride south, during which time I seriously debated the wisdom of continuing on, we arrived in Nendaz, which reminded me of the smaller ski towns in Colorado. Thankfully, as soon as we'd checked in to our swanky hotel and parked the bike and warmed up a good bit, the rain stopped and we got to go take a look around the wee town center and the tiny little festival--which was immediately in front of our hotel. (Nicely done, Mike!).
Alp horns, alp horns, everywhere. These guys were set up in front of the grocery store.
As soon as the first group had finished, these guys set up across the street.
And then, to the festival! Where they had an alp horn "atelier" tent set up. Mouthpiece, anyone?
All sorts of bits and pieces and tools relating to how an alp horn is made. Neat. (There was also a blacksmith exhibit and several booths of people selling traditional, Valais-specific goodies.)
People in various traditional costumes were everywhere.
Next, we ducked into the main tent to find some grub. We settled on the raclette burger, which came topped both with melted raclette cheese AND two gigantic slabs of the stuff, which the guy cut right off the end of the block of cheese. And came with some excellent "frites country," heh. (I had to take a photo of their menu board 'cause "rouleau de printemps" cracks me up, and also, what the heck kind of festival features house-made macarons as fair food? The best kind, that's what.)
Interior of the tent. It kinda felt like French Oktoberfest, were that a thing.
A French take on oompah music: they were using an upright bass where one would ordinarily have tubas! I heart this music so very much. These guys could have played all night, as far as I'm concerned.
And then it got super noisy: I know nothing about who these people are, or why they do this, but they took a lap of the tent with these ginormous cowbells-on-yokes slung over their shoulders. Really loud, and really amazing how well they stayed in step with each other:
You're welcome for making this only a few seconds long.
After burgers and cowbells inside the tent, it was back out for more alp horns. (They were everywhere, I tell you. Everywhere!)
At this point, we'd decided to check out some of the local restaurants, in order to sort out dinner, when we noticed that people were slooowly beginning gather along the sides of the main street. Having no idea what was going on, I decided to stake out a place amongst those who seemed to be in the know, while Mike ran into a shop to acquire for us some of the local white wine. When they blocked off the street to vehicle traffic, I finally figured out that we were witnessing some classic parade-route behavior. With our wine procured, and viewing area secured, what came next was utterly fantastic. (We decided it was the "local heritage-and-color" parade, although I can't really find any information on this anywhere.) Wooo! Unexpected small-town parade!
I don't know what their sign means, just that it was the herald of wondrous things to come. Like these cows, for example: them's fightin' cows! Apparently, these particular animals have an extreme hierarchy within each herd, and fight it out seasonally to determine who's in charge. (Also, look how fat they are, and how short their legs are. Heh.)
Next came the pooper scoopers, naturally, although these cows appeared to be fairly self-controlled.
The local taxidermist had a "float" in this parade--on the trailer was a life-sized model of two of the aforementioned cows, locked in battle. (They were plastic, not taxidermied. Thankfully.)
Next came what we're calling the "tractor" floats...Mike thinks these engines are more suited to riding lawnmowers than to towing flatbed trailers full of assorted people and Valais-related items.
Nevertheless, that first guy was towing the second tractor float. I'm guessing that was unplanned. (These guys both had old wine-making paraphernalia on their flatbeds.)
Then came the tractor with the grill party in the back.
And then some ladies marching with squeezeboxen.
Next came some sort of military vehicle featuring its very own three-piece band in the back! And people handing out apricots alongside, because that's how you do in Valais.
I am ashamed to admit that I was unaware that Valais is famed for its apricots and raspberries. And obviously, the only way to improve upon said good summer fruits is to attach them to a truck with a band in it, amirite? (Love this.)
Er, advertising the ski lift, maybe...?
Interesting note: Nendaz has a sister city in Romania. It's called Gherla. They even brought their own alp horns for this particular festival.
They were singing, too. And at the end here, there's a lady with a bottle of their local liqueur, from which she was handing out shots to the crowd. She ran out just as she got to us. (Lots of drinking in this parade. You can hear me start to giggle about it at the end.)
No idea who these people are, but I like his kicky hat and vest and little tie-thing. (Also...two ladies? You go, sir.)
Some sort of traditional dancing group. (Squeezeboxing: I like it a lot.)
Our first-ever yodel choir. Didn't even know that was a thing.
Then came some flag tossin'...
...as always, accompanied by alp horns. I am amazed at the way people march with these things. (That ringing noise is the lady in the middle, who has a bowl in which she's rolling around a big coin.)
And--maybe Mike's new favorite thing in the world--Saint Bernard goggies with actual casks around their necks. ("In their natural habitat," he claims. What I know is that these things are so massive and slobbery and adorable.)
Ok, so we all know what an animal fanatic I am, and so it probably comes as no surprise that I really think they merit a second photo here. Such big goggies. Want to hug.
Then came the French contingent, from just over the border in the Auvergne region.
Most of these cats were marching in wooden shoes. My arches hurt just contemplating that.
And also, check out this crazy hand-crank-instrument! Neat.
Then came the local ski school with its giant inflatable rabbit. ('Cause who wouldn't choose that for their winter-sports mascot...?)
They also had a handful of people marching in some old-school ski get-ups. Sweet gear, dude. (Did I mention that pretty much everyone in this parade was drinking white wine from these tiny plastic shot glasses? 'Cause they were.)
More cowbell!
These guys were back, and this time, they did this complicated weave thing in the middle of the street, while always keeping entirely in step with each other. Still deafeningly loud, but impressive nonetheless.
This flatbed had a guy steaming milk curds on the back, and everyone else was handing them out to the crowd.
Some sort of goatherders' group, maybe? (High on a hill...)
Folks carrying old-timey dairy-related implements.
Yay, more squeezeboxen!
I don't know how we lucked out, but our spot on the parade route just happened to be where most of the groups stopped, if they stopped. These guys did a couple of dances before moving on.
Best part: all of the yodel-shouting in the midst of it all. It is amazing and awesome.
Then some fifes and drums. Mike was quite jealous of their costumes.
More dancers, this time with fancy hats and another good little band.
Next up: the classic cars. (Can you even have a parade, anywhere, without classic cars...?) This guy stopped to put his wee plastic wine glass on the hood ornament of his old Renault.
Neat old Volvo.
After the cars, the streets were reopened, and everyone headed back inside the main tent for food and yet more entertainment. Believe it or not, this parade wasn't terribly long--it was just so entertaining and action-packed that I felt compelled to document it all. And then I kept going, 'cause so much good stuff.
Post-parade, the clouds parted a wee bit, and taunted us with the view that we could have had. (The clouds were back the next day, although only over the peaks. Bah, humbug.)
They parked all of the old cars in the grass next to the tent. I probably wouldn't say no if someone tried to give me a Morgan.
Inside, the "fun" alp horn competition had begun. Yes, the guy on the left is wearing an old-man mask and wig, and playing what appears to be an alp horn-trombone hybrid. (No moving parts, though.) And the guy on the right is playing a didgeridoo.
Meanwhile, we were stuffing our faces, yet again! Here, the notorious "Alpine macaroni" featuring bacon, cream, noodles, onions, and loads of alpkäse. Yummmmmmm. (After this we shared a plate of chopped venison in a brown gravy with spaetzle; a small portion of raclette with potatoes; and a strawberry pastry and a slice raspberry cake. All fantastic.)
The ladies of Gherta playing on stage.
I tell you what, the people in traditional costumes really earned their meal vouchers that day: all the folks from the parade performed again indoors! (Also of note: more yodeling.)
Some dancers taking a break. They look like 1920s gangsters lounging against the bar.
The yodel choir. These guys gave me the chills, they were so good...and also, I'd never heard anything like this before. Decided: I heart yodel choirs.
The French group dancing in their wooden shoes. So wonderfully stompy.
I ended with this one 'cause I love how you can hear the crowd singing along.
Believe it or not, this party continued well after we left. We, however, had to call it a night, as I was set on getting up early enough the next morning to hear the 150-alp horn performance at the top of the ski hill. Which, sadly, we missed by only a few minutes...they were still in formation as we hopped off the lift. Ah well, at least it was sunny and other interesting things were afoot!
There they are! And immediately hereafter, there they went. (Yet another reason to go back next year: I so, so wish we'd heard them play!)
Also featured: some local youth wrestlers, showing off their Schwingen style.
Too cute: mom wrestling daughter. (Age and treachery won out, of course.)
View from Tracouet lake, at the top of the ski lift.
Traditional handicrafting: this lady is demonstrating the super-detailed paper cutting that one sees in various places throughout the Alps. (Want, but it's always so expensive, and with good reason.)
A pile of giant cowbells and yokes. Gee, I wonder how these might have gotten here?
Alp horns propped against a tree that was, oddly enough, placed here specifically for this festival. (Mike pointed that out to me: it's not actually growing, but is held in place by blocks and wires!)
They're always painted so prettily.
Alpine wildflowers. Reminds me of the 14ers, just a wee bit.
As we checked out the wrestlers and the booths full of merchandise, the finals of the alp horn competition began. Apparently, there were several categories, but the one that was most impressive to me was the soloists. So brave! Sadly, I didn't get a video of the guy who I'm sure went on to win the whole thing, but I did get one of the lady performing after him, which, I'm guessing, was quite a challenge.
She was no slouch herself, though.
After we'd heard a few of the finalists play, we decided it was time to call it and headed back down the hill to the local coop, where we bought a bunch of locally produced, apricot- and raspberry-related goodies, then hopped on the bike for a (finally!!) sunny ride home. We passed numerous castles and ruins (see specifically Sion--going to check that out next year!); apricot orchards all over the place; a bunch of those crazy Valais wooden buildings on stone stilts; fields full of sunflowers in full bloom; lots of birds-of-prey and giant blue herons; sweeping valley and lake panoramas; and the green greenness of southern Switzerland. Such a nice ride. Such a tremendous festival, and absolutely one that we will be attending again.
Well...I was going to include another insanely Swiss event here, but this post may have gotten just the weensiest bit out of hand (what! so I like weird little regional festivities a lot!), so I guess I'll just have to save that--plus a bit of reading-watching-cooking--for next time.
Next up: some serious Swiss Schwingen.
*I have to apologize, again, for my camera's inability to focus during videos. For some reason, it feels the need to refocus over and over again, even if there's little-to-no movement, and it's truly irritating. Thankfully, I think Mike fixed it this past weekend, so it should be better in the future. For this post, however, I'm so sorry. Ugh.
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