Day 14 -- Lucerne

Thanks to the good people at the Seattle Times, I rode a bicycle pretty much every day for 3 years (except for the thick-paper Sundays, when my gem of a mother would fire up the Lumina and blast through the route). As a youth, I also went on a "bike trip" up through the southern end of British Columbia. Basically, when I was a teenager, I was pretty good on two dang wheels.

However, my skills (and the applicable muscles) had waned considerably. If only I could dream up an idiom to describe what it's like to forget how to ride a bicycle…

Anyway, it's to the point now where I actually can't remember the last time I went two-wheeling, in a "non-stationary" fashion. It may have been when I was in my mid-teens, following my step-brother Jeff as he tore down the trails of St. Edwards Park on a BMX bike. Not sure…maybe I hopped on a bike at some point in college, though I'd be hard pressed to recall specifics.

Today I was in Switzerland, and we decided to rent a bikes for a full day. The thing is, in Lucerne (and Munich before it), the city's bike paths have evolved to the point where it's almost dangerous for the good old fashioned "foot pedestrians." Crosswalks have two crossings -- one across the bike path, and one across the road. Then, occasionally, a sidewalk will just magically transmogrify into a bike lane, and you'll get "bell ringed" out of the way by an irritated cyclist.

Meaning that most roads in Lucerne had a bike lane…sometimes two...rarely zero. This made the notion of "riding bikes" far less scary than in a place like, say, Paris (chock full of honking cars and scooters) or Los Angeles (a city hell-bent on destroying anything that isn't motorized).

Anyway, earlier that morning we'd hit up the annual "Cheese Festival" that just happened to coincide with our visit. Since Lucerne had put such a crimp into our budget, and because picnics are "awesome," we got some bread, cheese, meat, and snackity-snacks…and loaded up the backpack for our little trip.

We located the bicycle rental place at the train station, and rented a couple of 24-speed street bikes. I made a mental note to try each and every speed on the upcoming trip – which filled me with an excited glee. We decided our warm-up run would be a spin across town to the Lion Monument – maybe the most famous site in Lucerne…and one we hadn't seen yet.

On the way we stopped at the Bourbaki Panorama…which was a giant doughnut-shaped painting that was "part mannequin'd exhibit" and "part painting that depicted the retreat of the French forces during the Franco-Prussian war into Switzerland (a neutral country)."

Why on earth would the French retreat to Switzerland? The French, retreating? PREPOSTEROUS! Either way, at that time (the 1870s) the French were caught between a rock (the German forces) and a "place that was uncomfortable yet vastly more desirable than certain death" (Switzerland). Naturally, the French chose option B, and were immediately disarmed and interned at the border by the Swiss army. The French forces (over a hundred-thousand strong) were disbursed throughout Switzerland and foisted upon the unsuspecting Swiss populace…who were instructed to house these poor souls.

Now, Swiss neutrality and the German Wars for reunification (which included the aforementioned Franco-Prussian war) have fascinated me since I first learned about them my freshman year of college. So it was interesting to see a depiction of those two things combined – a source of pride for the Swiss…and something about that seems kinda' cool to me. Yes Erika, I know. I'm a freaking nerd.

The Panorama itself was pretty cool – a bit overpriced (like all of Lucerne), but interesting none-the-less. More impressive for "what it stands for" than the actual work of art itself...which was no doubt impressive when it was first erected (tee hee), but the idea of a diorama with a painted backdrop isn't that much of an artistic coup at this day in age.

Just north of the panorama was the second stop in the "great tour of the weird Swiss military history," in the form of the "Dying Lion Monument." How is that military history, you ask? Well...see…apparently the Swiss had gone and got themselves involved in another important French conflict – the revolution.

Now, brief history talk. Apparently, sometime in the late 18^th century, the French decided that having a "monarchy" wasn't cool any more…because kings and queens ended up spending tons of money. So the common folk decided to get rid of them…replacing them with a series of dictators and emperors instead. Seems like a natural progression. Anyhow, in the process, there were some pretty scared French monarchs rumbling about – some lady named Marie Antoinette, and her husband…um…King Louis the Something-eth? I think?

Anyhow, protecting these two individuals were almost a thousand Swiss mercenaries. Why would the French monarchs hire Swiss mercenaries? If I had Wikipedia, I could tell you for certain…but going off the top of my head, I think it's because there was less chance of betrayal & corruption (the Swiss had highly regarded mercenaries…and it's not likely that some upstart Frenchies could have easily infiltrated their ranks), and also because the Swiss made for really good guards (they'd been tasked with protecting the Pope since the sixteenth century).

Now, when the French decided to off the king and queen (remember that part?), they did what the French do best: they "stormed." This time it was the Tuilieres Palace (or something like that – no Wikipedia also means "no spell right").

When they citizens attacked there were about 800 Swiss guardsmen there (a two-hundred-man contingent had been sent to Normandy...for some reason), protecting the king and queen. They didn't want to fight (they made a point to toss several ammo cartridges to the crowd to show they did not want a conflict), but someone opened fire (most likely the French) and a drawn-out battle ensued. Long story short, the Swiss were massively outnumbered, and eventually they started running out of ammo (bet they wish they'd had those cartridges back, huh?). After a protracted defense, they had to withdraw into the courtyard where they tried to surrender…but they were killed almost to a man (of the original 800, there were less than 100 survivors).

What's this got to do with a dying lion? Well…it's what we in the business call a "metaphor." I think. Or maybe it's a palindrome. An effigy? Either way, the lion represents the men who sacrificed themselves to try to save the king and queen (mostly the queen, because they knew she'd have a bunch of movies made about her). Incredibly moving statue…maybe the finest sculpture I've seen in Europe. Heartbreaking. But I'm afraid it's one of those that you've got to see to really appreciate (I'd seen pictures too…but it was nothing like the real thing...which I guess is why we went to Europe, as opposed to just looking at a bunch of pictures of it).

With that little side-trip under our belt, we took off. We'd read in our guide book that a "tour of the north shore of the lake" would be the "scenic highlight of our trip to Switzerland." So we toured that north shore…and it definitely was a highlight…if not "the" highlight.

Then we got cocky:

Erika: How would you feel about going all the way?

Tyler: What? Here? There are a bunch of people around! Aren't you even going to romance me a little? I'M NOT A PIECE OF MEAT!!! (sobs)

Erika: Do you want another black eye?!?

Tyler (sullenly): No.

Erika: Good. But I wasn't talking about that…because…gross. What I mean is, how would you feel about bicycling around the entire lake?

Tyler: Today?

Erika: Yeah.

Tyler: Well, it's a pretty big lake, babe. What time is it?

Erika (checking her phone): Um…12:30 PM?

Tyler: And sunset's about...6:00?

Erika: Sure.

Tyler: So that gives us a little more than five hours to get around the lake?

Erika: Yep.

Tyler: Hmm...that's not a lot of time...

Erika (in her "wowie zowie this is a great chance for us to exercise voice): C'mon! We can do it! Let's go!

Tyler: Well…I guess…um…

But by that time she'd already pedaled off.

So off we went…into the wild blue yonder. And I must say…if you haven't seen the pictures (and there's a very good chance you haven't…because I haven't uploaded them yet), it was stunning. Staggering. Mark Twain lived in this area briefly, and he called it something like "The prettiest land I've ever lived in." Once again, I'd look up the exact quote if I had internet…but I don't…so…

Anyhow, it was great. More of that "creepy nuclear green grass." And there were cows everywhere…but it didn't smell like the American pastureland "cow funk." It smelled like…alpine freshness. In fact, I recently purchased a tube of "Alpine Freshness" deodorant from Old Spice, and that's exactly how the north shore of Lake Lucerne smells!!!

Naturally, we filled up the camera with photos…and the bike ride worked up a good lather. However, we were loafing…and we stopped frequently for photo opportunities, water, and snacks at the various little towns dotting the lake.

So after a good 3 hours at a semi-steady pace we noticed something. First off, we were not making nearly the kind of headway we were hoping (we needed to be at least half-way around the lake at 3:30, and we barely a third of the way around). Secondly, every time we sat on our incredibly uncomfortable bike seats, a dull ache would radiate through our haunches (not sure what else to call that area…but imagine the points of contact on a real skinny, uncomfortable bicycle seat…whatever area that is hurt like the Dickens). Lastly, we were on the eastern shore, and the western shore looked suspiciously like a mountain with no roads across it…sloping steeply to the lake. So we weren't exactly sure where we were supposed to go (though, admittedly, we'd been following signs that directed all bicyclists around the lake…so there must have been some way through).

But the long and the short of it is, we weren't comfortable cycling in a foreign land after dark, with no streetlamps, and an increasingly nasty pain growing in our upper-quadriceps region.

Luckily, most of the little towns we were going through had "boat docks." We cycled over to one and purchased two tickets across the lake, back to Lucerne. The boat was named the "William Tell Express;" vaunted in the guide book, but when we were budgeting the trip, it had been too expensive for our modest tastes. Now, I suppose, we had little choice.

The William Tell was a paddleboat that toodled around the lake, while tourists sat in the warm confines of the interior and snapped pictures of the vast, gorgeous mountains out the windows. As I said, I'd briefly considered ponying up for a putter on the boat…but thought (rightly, as it turned out) that we'd be better served taking a bike tour…and letting the poor wimps with no stamina float around the lake in their cute little boat.

But now we were the ones floating on said boat. It was pretty cool…for about 20 minutes…then we quickly realized the William Tell wasn't much more than a glorified "Ferry," and we'd ridden ferries our entire lives (living, as we did, around Puget Sound). We hadn't brought anything to do aboard the ship (the crossword puzzle book was sitting uselessly on our hotel bed), so the mood turned from "Wow…look at the cool water, and the scenery!" To "Hmm…so…what time does the boat arrive again?"

So, it actually turns out it was a long-ass ride home. Over two hours, with nothing to entertain us except a horrible impromptu game of "I Spy" (for those of you contemplating it…never play this game with Erika. She is…simply…the best there ever was. Hands down. The best).

Eventually we made it back to the Lucerne docks, and on the brief ride from the ferry to the train station we discovered the full extent of the damage our "undersides" had absorbed when we remounted our bikes. It was so bad we were unable to actually "sit" on our bicycle seats for the 5 minute ride back to the bike rental place, and stood on the pedals all the way there.

With that little bit of business out of the way, we realized it was time to eat. Since our plans on getting some good "Mexican Eating" were foiled the previous night, we decided to make good on our threat to eat some bona fide "Swiss Mexican Food." Using the free guide given to us at the hotel (and available all over town), we located several "Tex-Mex" restaurants in the area, and envisioned a greasy burrito, full of beans, cheese, rice, and sweet, sweet meat of some kind.

However, we were disappointed to find out that, in Lucerne, "Tex-Mex" translated to "Really Fancy Restaurant." We passed several classy Mexican eating establishments before settling on one close-ish to our hotel.

It's funny how, in Los Angeles (and really anywhere in the U.S.) the concept of a "fancy Mexican restaurant" is unusual. Even the more upscale Mexican restaurants still maintain a "homey, approachable" vibe. But here in Switzerland, the Mexican cuisine was a rare, exotic treat…to be given the four-star treatment.

Needless to say, a "big-ol-fat-burrito" was not on the menu. We got the next-best thing: "do-it-yourself fajita" with "a dainty carafe of tasty sangria," served with "fancy tortilla chips, and fancy salsa." Of course, the downside of a restaurant like this is that you have to pay a "fancy price" at the end of the meal…but we'd pretty much resigned ourselves to paying exorbitant prices for anything during our stay in Lucerne…and our budget would (hopefully) be able to bear the brunt.

We returned to our room (after stopping to get some fine Swiss chocolates for desert), played a couple more rounds of speed…and lapsed into an exhausted, sore-legged sleep.