Day 13 -- Lucerne, Switzerland

Lucky number 13. Well, the brochure said that we could get "hiking maps" at the foot of the mountain. So we went to the foot of the mountain, located the booth, and spoke through the glass to the booth employee:

"Guten tag! Um…hiking map?"

"There are no hiking maps?"

"No?"

"No. But, don't worry…the trails are very well marked."

"So…no maps, then?"

"No."

"Oh. Um…okay. Thanks."

I didn't know whether to curse the brochure for giving us incorrect information, or curse the ticket woman for her blithe insouciance in the face of our impending hypothermia and frost bite.

So instead, I just cursed Kirk Douglas (like I always do), and we meandered out of the big "Mount Pilatus Visitor Center" building and started up the mountain.

I should say, at this point, that we were incredibly well dressed for the occasion. Temperatures in Lucerne were in the low 50s, so I decided to rock my grey hoodie, jeans, Brooklyn Dodgers cap, and no gloves. Erika decided to get her hypothermia rocking a down vest, thin green hoodie, and tights. We were, as the Swiss say, "spectacularly under-dressed for a cold-weather hike."

But it wasn't like we were in any real danger, Dad…so don't be afraid. Mount Pilatus is honeycombed with various hiking trails, and there is the aforementioned gondola that has three stations along the way with restaurants, shops, and activities. It's like a miniature ski-resort at each station…with an airborne landmark (the gondola) that points the way to the next station. The risk of getting truly "lost" was remote…so we figured we'd hike up to the first station, then "see how we feel."

We climbed. The first little stretch was through a neighborhood, on a paved road. I remember reading about this first little stretch – the houses reached up a good ways before the true "Swiss wilderness" started. No problem. So, after about 20 minutes of a gradual uphill walk, we reached our first fork in the road…with a sign:

WANDERWEG

<=============>

Now, neither of us was totally sure what a "wanderweg" was, but since either way seemed to be the "correct" choice, we turned left.

This took us up another paved road…this time with no sidewalk. We must have chosen to hike on garbage day, because we were buzzed by several different trucks on our way up. It also seemed to be the "busiest road to nowhere in Switzerland," and we probably had to stop for a car once every 3 minutes or so. This sure as heck did not feel like a trail. More like a "street going up a hill."

Luckily we had purchased a map of the area the previous day. Ladies and gentlemen, listen to me: purchase a good map. You can't always depend on the maps in the guidebooks, or the free maps you can get at any hotel. You must buy a good map if you wish to navigate. I'd originally balked at the hefty price of 5 Swiss Francs (about $4) for the map…but boy was it worth it in the long run.

So I pulled out the map, which (luckily) covered many of the foot trails and roads on Mt. Pilatus all the way to the first "gondola station." Using our awesome navigational and map-reading skills, we found our current location, and where we needed to go (turns out we should have gone "right" at the cryptic sign. Oops).

But once I was able to find our location on a map, I could relax a little and enjoy the scenery. Now this was the Switzerland I had been picturing in my tiny brain. The grass was that same crazy radiant green, the trees were vibrant and multi-hued, and there was the frequent companion of "clanging cow bells" as we ascended the hills (yes, they still use cow bells on their cows in Switzerland – it's adorable). We were less than an hour into our hike, and already we had some breathtaking views of the Lucerne countryside…which is, as advertised, freaking gorgeous.

So we climbed. And climbed. I don't know…what does one say about a hike, really? There were trees, leaves, and really pretty views. Does that work for you all?

Eventually we made it to Station 1. It was about 12:30 PM, so we decided to break for lunch. I got a Coke Zero from the little store up there, and Erika sipped the "carbonated water" that we'd accidentally purchased (carbonated water is the devil that has plagued our European water-buying efforts. Seriously – it's the grossest stuff on the planet. Grosser than cucumber…I'm not even kidding). And we each had a sandwich – I ate a Curry Chicken sandwich on a mountain in Switzerland (thought you'd appreciate that, sister). Erika had…I want to say a "cheese sandwich?"

Looking up the slope we noticed that the mountain disappeared into a thick, soupy grey mist. We'd been chasing the fog up the mountain, and it looks like it had finally settled just above the first gondola station.

Sure, we were tired…and freezing cold…but that crazy adventurous part of us wanted to continue. Unfortunately, the map we had only went a touch past the first station (the second station was off the map), and that fog kinda' wrecked our chances at spotting a good landmark to guide us (we'd been using the gondola line up to this point). So…still interested in seeing more of the mountain, and attracted to the notion of a "Swiss Gondola," we decided to ride up to station 2 in a tiny car, suspended by a wire.

We paid the attendant, got in the gondola, and rolled into the fog…and the icy death chill. There was no heater in the gondola car, so we huddled together for warmth. Up we went to station number two.

Which looked a lot like station 1, except it was higher, the visibility was much worse, about it was about 30 degrees colder. Erika was doing that thing she does where her "teeth chatter" and she "shivers uncontrollably," so we popped into the little restaurant and ordered two $4 coffees. We were going to hike around a little bit…but we both soon realized that we were (as the Swiss say) "hilariously underdressed."

Back down in the gondola we went. Eventually we busted through the fog and got to see another pleasant view of Lake Lucerne and its corresponding city.

Arriving at station 1, and at a much warmer temperature, we decided to hike down to Kriens – the city at the foot of the mountain with the super-helpful woman in the booth. Now, I don't know if you know this or not, but hiking "down" a mountain is actually a lot easier than hiking "up." I'm not sure why that is – I'll leave it to the scientists to try to explain that one.

So we made it down with all of our digits intact. Our big "hike in the Alps" ended without hypothermia, frost bite, or any kind of permanent frost-related damage. Simply amazing. On the walk back to our hotel (since public transportation is for the weak) we decided that we were craving Mexican food, and the idea of Swiss Mexican food was too hilarious for us to pass up. We saw a restaurant called "Café Siesta." Nap food? Oh well…it was good enough. We'd be back for dinner.

And we were. But when we entered, we found out that the "Café Siesta" seemed to only specialize in "Feeding Beer to the Locals" and "Microwaving Paninis." No Tex-Mex cuisine in sight – not even simple chips and salsa.

So after downing a beer in that cigarette-inundated dive, we continued down the street. Option 2 that day was a little pub called "The Moonlight Pub." We walked down the darkened steps to the pub, and saw a crowd of about 7 young Swiss dudes crowded around a bar at the end of the room. Other than that, it was completely empty. Once again, we'd stumbled on a watering hole for locals, and as cool as the idea of "local food" sounded, it's actually pretty scary when you're face-to-face with it…being the only one there who doesn't know A) the language, and B) everyone else there. So, after a couple of beats, we turned to leave…but the bartender noticed us and called out something in German…to which I clumsily replied:

"Es tut mir leid. Kein trinken. Nur Essen." Which I think means "Sorry, we don't want anything to drink – we're looking for food." But it probably sounded like "Sorry, I don't drink, I only eat" to them.

And I also tripped going back up the stairs…as if I couldn't look any more dumb and terrified.

Tails tucked between our legs, we left that joint…but we were determined to find food…because that's what hungry people are like, for some reason. It was then we found our savior – in chalk, outside the door, it informed us that it served "Traditionalish Swiss Essen (food)." So we went in.

Again, this part of town was mostly involved in distributing beer to the local people, but at this restaurant, there were other patrons as well…and a friendly waiter who showed us immediately to our seats. We ordered something that was the equivalent of a bratwurst and hash browns.

And I tell you what, that meal rivaled my cherished "Munich suckling pig." So freaking good. A big ol' fat sausage, covered in a dark brown onion sauce, with perfectly cooked hashbrowns, all washed down with our new favorite Swiss beer – Eichhof. Holy cow…if this is how the locals eat…then I'm seriously considering moving into town just so I could eat Swiss food every day for the rest of my life.

Bellies full of the best meal we'd eaten in Switzerland, we headed back to the hotel to kill the rest of our Swiss cookies and play a some more Speed. Erika won, again, because I'm fairly convinced that she's cheating somehow. I don't know…it can't be possible to be that good at something, can it? Maybe I'm just a sore loser. Or maybe I'm a very observant loser? Who can tell…?

Anyway, tomorrow we're supposed to go to Zurich…but it sounds like neither of us are particularly excited at that notion…as we did absolutely no research into the city…and it involves train traveling, which we're always leery of…so we'll probably end up doing something else. Maybe applying wings to our pants, and allowing them to levitate to some height. Until then…