GRUYERE, Switzerland -- Pick a reason. Watches, wine, cheese and chocolate. Heidi, alphorns, army knives
and numbered bank accounts. Soaring Alps and bucolic valleys, scenic lakes and jet-set ski resorts.
Switzerland has been a popular European destination since Roman soldiers marched through,
looked around then returned to retire. During the ensuing centuries, the Italians, Germans, French and English followed and,
like the Romans, stuck around or returned.
Which is why the native
language can change from one side of the street to another. Zurich? Swiss-German. Neuchatel? Swiss-French. Poschiavo? Swiss-Italian.
St. Moritz? Chanel, Chopard, Hermes, Bulgari, Armani, Rolls-Royce, Mercedes-Benz, BMW and Ferrari in addition to Romansh,
a derivative of Latin.
One town has two
names because the pragmatic Swiss who lived there decided to let the two competing cantons, one French, one German, take turns
controlling it. In 1803, after 400 years of successful sharing, Napoleon ceded Morat/Murten to Fribourg, the French side.
Most of the townspeople were German, but they acquiesced, and today, maps and residents use the French Morat and German Murten
interchangeably, much to the confusion of tourists.
Whatever the
language, it works, which is the wonder of Switzerland. Many countries have spectacular scenery, even more have productive
cows, but in this landlocked center of neutrality, it fits together with the same art and precision as a fine Swiss watch.
The products that make Switzerland famous -- watches, cheeses and chocolates -- come from
the three lakes region. Add vineyards and wineries, charming cities and the castles we Americans love, all tucked into the
flanks of the Jura and ''pre-Alps'' mountains of western Switzerland and you have a little bit of heaven.
Neuchatel, the area's largest town, stretches up from the banks
of Lake Neuchatel, the largest lake entirely in Switzerland. At its top, a 15th century castle, church and cloister in a complex
begun in the 12th century. Winding down the streets you go from medieval to the modern of the lakefront grass, gardens and
walkways of Esplanade du Mont Blanc and its sculpture by Vasarely, Arp, Robert Indiana and others.
Along the way, pause to admire the colorfully polychromed Banneret fountain and the painted
shutters of the hotel behind it or the Fountain of Justice. Both are the work of Laurent Perroud, and tales have it that during
past celebrations, wine flowed instead of water.
The Hotel du Peyrou
and its formal, French-style gardens are worth a detour. Once a residence, it is now a rather grand place to dine and the
scene of many official functions.
Pause at the Place des Halles,
a market square surrounded by 18th century housefronts, and join the locals for a beverage and snack.
Shop around but don't miss the Jaquet-Droz automatons at the Museum of Art and History
down by the harbor. A far cry from singing birds that pop up out of boxes, these three young characters -- the scribe, the
musician and the draftsman -- are like 18th century computers. The scribe is the most sophisticated, capable of writing up
to 40 words in any language that uses the Roman alphabet, dipping his quill in the inkwell and shaking it twice at each line.
It took watchmaker Jaquet-Droz four years to create him; his son built the others in two years.
The fingers of the young female automaton actually depress the keys of her small pipe organ to play one of four tunes composed
by her creator. She also breathes. The draftsman uses more than 300 movements to draw a cupid, his dog and the portrait of
a man. Several times during the process he would ''blow'' away the charcoal dust. When pencils came along
and eliminated the dust, handlers substituted a crumpled piece of paper to show the action.
Since first exhibited in June, 1774, these creations have been demonstrating their skills for the amazed crowned heads and
residents of Europe for 230 years. The boys are life-size 2- to 3-year-olds and were always displayed on open cabinets to
prove their movements were mechanical, not the work of children or midgets.
They are just as impressive today.
Watch yourself
The aptitude for precision persists in the nearby center of ''Watch Valley,''
where more than 30,000 residents work in the industry, spending up to 300 hours to design, mill, polish, assemble and test
the parts -- some thinner than a human hair -- of a fine timepiece.
''Digital'' and ''quartz'' are naughty words in Le Locle and La Chaux-de-Fonds, where readily
available cheap watches eliminated four out of five jobs.
Still,
it's a far cry from what the Puritanical John Calvin anticipated when he banned the wearing of jewelry. Jewelers were
forced into making watches and with little to do during the winter, farmers of the Jura soon became the world's most famous
watchmakers. Their offspring still are, slowly and carefully turning out the Girard Perregaux, Parmigianas, Ebels, Corums,
Cartiers, Tiffanys, Tissots, Rados and Rolexes of elite timewear.
The International Horological Museum in La Chaux-de-Fonds houses a creatively displayed collection of more than 3,000 timepieces
from sun dials to the atomic clock, as well as a restoration center where visitors can watch craftsmen at work.
Not that people stay indoors any more than necessary. Everywhere you look -- riverbanks
and lake shores, hills of grape vines, tree-filled canyons, rising mountains -- are walkers, hikers, bikers and boaters of
all ages.
The three lakes -- Neuchatel, Biel and Murten/ Morat --
are connected by canals plied by boats that run as regularly and efficiently as the trams and trains. Neuchatel is the primary
port from which these 20- to 500-passenger craft make circuits and crossings to 35 stops throughout the region.
The crossing to the Broye Canal and through to Murten/Morat was scenic and humorous. Scenic
as we passed bird-watching perches; hikers, cyclists, anglers and flower-bedecked resorts along the banks all backed by gentle
slopes of meticulously tended fields and vineyards. Humorous as we watched the restaurant staff seat and serve then snatch
the food away from a group of German tourists who had been shown to the wrong area.
We paused in the passage for an al fresco lunch of fresh perch at the Hotel de l'Ours in Sugiez.
After ambling through rows of grapevines along the ''wine path,'' learning
among other things that one vine produces grapes for two bottles of wine, it was time to try the finished product. Chef, hotelier
and fourth-generation winemaker Roland Chasselas had it all set up in the wine tasting room of his Chasson Vully Hotel and
Restaurant.
In addition to hors d'oeuvres specialties of the
area, the chef had set out two whites, a Chasselas and a Fribourg Vully, and one red, a pinot noir, from his 60,000-bottle
annual output.
Having visited the Mauler & Cie caves of fine
sparkling wines in the old abbey in Motiers and sampled Swiss still wines since arriving in Switzerland, we knew to ask about
the wine rather than rely on labels, which rarely tell you more than the color of the wine inside.
We also knew not to look for it at home; the Swiss and their neighbors drink almost all
of the wine the country can produce.
Say 'cheese'
Sated, it was time to board the next boat to Merten/Morat, where two different wedding parties
on two party boats in the harbor made for a jolly entrance. The city gates open onto another medieval town of winding streets
and interesting vistas. This wealthy area is where those old Roman soldiers retired and where the knight Adran von Bubenburger
rallied vastly outnumbered residents and neighboring villagers to defeat Charles the Bold, ending his boast to ''have
Murten for breakfast, Lausanne for lunch and Bern for dinner.''
You can and should climb to the walkway along the old city walls and look out over the field where Charles camped with his
army of 20,000 men.
A
dairyman unloading cans of milk at a small Gruyere cheese plant 55 minutes after he had begun the afternoon milking gave
mute testimony to quality of cheese and chocolates produced in this area.
It was blackest night when checking into a chalet-like hotel in the mountain village of Charmey, where the loudest noise was
the deep-dongs of bells, presumably from a local form of wind chimes (a presumption that was proved wrong at first light;
those were bells around the necks of cows grazing on the hillside behind the hotel).
There is, one learns, one cow per person living in the Fribourg-Gruyere area.
The drive to Fribourg wound past ripening apple trees, neat stacks of wood and dewy green fields of late growth hay stalked
by local cats in search of the morning mouse. Hairpin curves make for valley vistas one moment, views of 6,000- to 7,800-foot-high
peaks of the ''pre'' Alps the other.
Fribourg has
been a bilingual university town for centuries, and the atmosphere of civility and learning seems to overhang the city much
as the overlapping peaked roofs and eaves of its buildings do.
This
amble began in the lower, older city where, across the Sarine river, a flea market filled the Place du Petit-St.-Jean with
shoppers and sellers. Walking up the winding streets is like climbing forward in history, from the 12th to the 21st century
as you rise 3,281 feet in altitude.
Just beyond the sign that for
generations pointed pilgrims along the route to Compostela, a costumed band of children and adults dances by, reminding everyone
it is the final day of the annual Medieval Festival with its period banquets, sporting events, concerts and craftsmen. A food
and flower market has taken over the street as it parallels St. Nicholas Cathedral one street over.
Fortunately for our band of flatlanders, a funicular covers the final, steepest climb, depositing
passengers high above in what locals refer to as the new city.
The
final destination of our three lakes sampler personified cheese and is the second-most-visited destination in Switzerland.
After touring a Gruyere factory, it was time to wind through the Middle Ages town of Gruyere itself.
Gruyere sits on a high knob in a valley that Heidi would love. Gruyere means crane and according
to legend, in 400 A.D., a crane was spotted on the hill that became the name of the one-street town and the dynasty.
Visitors are treated to alphorn concerts along with flag tossing displays. Of course, at
the town's highest elevation, there's a castle. The Count of Gruyere had no enemies so he didn't need a castle,
but he liked the ones he had seen elsewhere in Europe and copied them when building his own. Unfortunately, only one of his
five Italian wives liked it there.
Fortunately, subsequent family members did and brought their artistic friends for prolonged visits. Corot painted wonderful
scenes and figures on the walls, and Liszt left his piano behind. Art exhibitions are held there, and a most unexpected museum
and bar lurk at the lower gates. The works of H.R. Giger, the surrealist (and some would say sadist) from whose mind emerged
the creature of the Alien films, fill the museum. The cafe resembles, well, the insides of a vastly enlarged alien.
It is a strange yet wonderful juxtaposition, this unnecessary castle overlooking a Heidi-esque
valley with its happy cows producing flavorful cheeses, a spooky, sadistic sci-fi center and a touristically quaint town.
There was only one last step to take.
Check cholesterol worries at the door and settle down for a feast of the local raclette, a Gruyere cheese fondue and ample
wine capped off with strawberries and raspberries over meringues covered with double-thick cream.
A Swiss sampler to savor while walking it off back home.
