This is a photo of a bed and breakfast that my wife and I stayed at during the summer of 2010 in Interlaken. It is quite a bit different than the youth hostel that I stayed in 1970, although the atmosphere is much the same. The first evening shortly after arrival I was surprised to see the matron sending a couple of students out to the local store to pick up some groceries. After their return she started cooking in the community kitchen and was soon surrounded by many of us. Within an hour she had us stacking plates and what I call kebab sticks out in the dining/community room. She then proceeded to come out into the dining room with fresh chopped vegetables and a big vat of melted cheese. That was my first and best experience with a Fondue.
The following morning was a breakfast of coffee and a very good Swiss pastry. After a leisurely breakfast a bunch of us spread around the town some going to the waterfront, some going to the town center to shop, some walking around the neighborhood and of course others leaving to travel on. We periodically met in passing and shared info and tips on what we had just done. That was also how most evenings were spent; passing and sharing info along with the standard "Who are you? Where are you from?" and, "Where are you heading?" That evening after some discussion, I was convinced to go up to Grindelwald the next day.
One of the advantages of some hostels are the matrons and their male counterparts (Patrons?). When they have a good one, your visit is greatly enhanced by their knowledge and assistance. By the time I left the next morning, I knew that no one from the hostel with a vehicle was headed up the mountain. I also was told where the bus stop and the price of the bus was to go ride up the mountain.
But then she suggested I take the cog railway up to Grindelwald. The cost at that time was comparable if not cheaper than the bus and as she described it, a much better ride. It was!
Grindelwald was where I learned one of America's educational shortcomings. Language! I grew up not learning another language. I studied Spanish 1 from Mrs Ohmstedt. She passed everyone that year because she was so happy she had become pregnant that year. Like a fool, I signed up for Spanish 2 from Mr Acosta. I think he passed me because I promised not to take Spanish 3. Growing up in Mechanicville, I learned to swear in Italian and use my hands when talking but that was about it. Not very much, but at age six after ruining some older woman's flower bed on Round Lake Ave, I tried using the new words and hand gestures she used that day on my father that night. He introduced me to the joys of eating soap. When I was in the Air Force I lived for three years in Turkey trying to learn that language. I became barely conversational. You have probably heard the phrase that you haven't really learned a language until you can dream in that language. I dreamed in Turkish. I really did. I couldn't understand what they were saying then either!
The amazing matron back in Interlaken had written the phrase, "Where is the youth hostel?" and had me practice repeating the phrase in German saying that it was the same in Swiss Deutsch. I even asked her to write it down for me. What could go wrong? After getting lost I tried the phrase on a woman that appeared to be helpful. At least she was smiling. I discovered that when you ask a question in any language, your answer will probably be given/returned in the same language. I did not understand her answer so reflexively I say "No capiche." She gives me the answer in Italian, I respond with "No capiche Italiano." Then she tries French. Frustrated I finally say "Do you speak English?" She laughs and says of course and then gives me the directions I needed. I was only a block away.
Love It!!
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