Let’s stop pretending

Okay, it is time to be honest. This blog is, and so far has been, a travel blog. And yet, it is hard to deny the overwhelming focus on food. Of course, discovering new places also means discovering new cuisines. But I cannot pretend that my food obsession is merely a small part of this trip and, by association, this blog.

Having spent a wonderful two days in Zurich, I was – surprisingly – at a loss about what to write. There was, of course, the beautiful city, with the huge lake at its centre, functioning as the heart of this small metropolis. There was also the river (or were there two? I obviously didn’t pay that much attention) which doubled up, surprisingly, as a city ‘swimming pool’ – though apparently the current is so strong it is only really possible to go in one direction: a nightmare for serious swimmers but, perhaps, a dream for lazy floaters like me. There were also the lovely people – old friends of Florian – who we ate, drank and enjoyed the sun with.

But do you want to know, truly, what the best and most memorable thing about Zurich was? The big pot of bubbling, hot cheese. I went to Zurich with a one-track mind: to find the most delicious cheese fondue in the city. And, thanks to a friend’s recommendation, we ended up at the Fribourger Fondue-Stübli (which I cannot recommend enough), where we indulged in a blend of Gruyere cheese, Vacherin cheese, wine and Kirsch served up in a big stoneware pot. We spent over an hour slowly dipping chunks of bread, potatoes, pickled onions and gherkins into this melting pot of heaven, savouring both the pungent flavours and the internal warmth it created.

It’s time to stop pretending. Of course, I do care about the cities we visit, the sights we see, the beaches we relax on… but, most of all, I care about the food we treat ourselves to, the flavours distinct to each country and the opportunity to take my taste buds on holiday with me.

And the other great bit? Meeting the people we love along the way. We were lucky enough to spend five days with my parents in our beautiful holiday home in Austria. We took a lift up to the top of the mountain, went for a boat ride on the lake, admired the most beautiful double-rainbow we ever saw, sought refuge from the rain by playing cards for hours on end and discovered Salzburg – Mozart’s hometown – together.

And can you guess what my favourite part of our time together was? (If not, you obviously don’t know me at all). It was the delicious, hot Indian meals that my lovely mum prepared everyday for us – her underfed (yeah, right), always-hungry (sad, but true) children. 

The importance of being brave

Yesterday, there was no chasing of the sun, not at all. Yesterday, the sun came straight to us. The morning light was so bright that it was verging on celestial. It was almost as if the rays of the sun came knocking on our window to wake us up personally.

Like any other Monday morning, we rose at 7am. But instead of the usual wedge-heeled sandals or brogues and skinny jeans that I often sport, I opted for hiking boots and waterproof, lightweight hiking trousers. I had a rucksack, instead of my usual leather satchel, containing all kinds of essentials – including an extra pair of socks. I was told I might need these if I fell into a creek (but, surely, if I fell into a creek I would have far bigger problems than wet feet?).

We started our journey up the mountain (the “Schiederbirg” – Tirol, Austria) at around 9.30am. I was excited, and terrified, all at the same time. I had no idea what lay ahead, and even less clue how I would cope in tricky situations. Florian, though, was fearless. An experienced mountain hiker, he glided up the mountain with confident, easy strides. Our journey was one that he knew well, having completed it many times during his younger years.

Surprisingly, the ascent – though inevitably more exhausting – was easier than the descent. Going up, my energy levels were bursting, as was my enthusiasm. My confidence grew quickly, and my excitement even quicker. We climbed through dense areas with many trees and little sunlight, as well as brighter, clearer patches of grass dotted with yellow, pink and white flowers. At our peak, we climbed up 500m, and settled for a picnic and a nap at a beautiful spot with awe-inspiring views of the bigger, more dramatic mountains.

Waking up after 45 minutes was unsettling. Opening my eyes and remembering where we were, looking around and – terrifyingly – looking down threw me. During our ascent, I felt that I had found my centre of gravity – and I was braver for it. Taking the occasional look down was scary, no doubt, but I was invincible, because I was centred. I did not internalise this courage during my sleep, and waking up was like restarting. I had lost my centre, and my bravery had gone with it.

It made me wonder why it is that we internalise fear more easily and quickly than courage. And, worse still, what other things I was failing to internalise in my every day life. Was life really just like groundhog day – waking up and starting all over again each day?

No matter how afraid I was, and how unsteady, we had to go down the mountain and back into the valley. It took us a long time, for I was petrified. We had to cross creeks on our way, and this involved taking chances on makeshift bridges that looked far too unsteady to take our weight. With nothing but panic in my eyes and dread in my stomach, I took God’s name and followed Florian. He held my hand the entire way back down, and offered nothing but words of comfort and confidence.

Of course, we made it. We were tired, and sore, but triumphant. I don’t think I had ever felt so proud of myself, of my physical ability – in which I had so very little faith. It made me realise that I was, in fact, quite brave. And it made me realise that the presence of fear does not detract from one’s ability to be brave. Rather, facing fear – head on – with courage, confidence and faith is what it means (for me, at least) to be brave.

Yesterday, I learnt the importance of being brave.

And today? Well, to celebrate our achievement, we took it easy. It was another gloriously sunny, hot day, and we spent it relaxing in the sunshine. I had my sunglasses, a good book (“The Paris Wife” by Paula McLain, which looks at the early years of Ernest Hemingway before he found literary fame) and the feeling of endless opportunity. 

Starting small

I don’t want to start this post off by talking about the weather, as that would be so very British of me. And I guess my observation is more about the air than the weather, per se. Away from London smog, my senses are heightened. My nose, my lungs and my spirit are all very aware of the freshness of the air – clean, revitalising and intoxicating. Surrounded by mountains, freshly cut grass and nature at its purest, we find ourselves here – our first stop – in St Ulrich am Pillersee in Tirol, Austria. Here it is quaint, untouched and beautiful. There is space to exist, there is time to think, and there is inspiration everywhere you look. Life moves at a much slower pace here, though time continues to race – speeding away, taking us with it, reminding us to make the most of every single day that we have. Already I can feel the stress of city life ebbing away, and I am embracing this new way of living: it is calm, it is patient and it is peaceful. 

 

Today we went on our first hike – it was a one and a half hour trip around a picturesque hill called ‘Unterberg’, the smallest hill in this small village. It was an easy trip, covering approximately 5 Kilometres. The landscape was varied, as was the weather. We saw dark forests, imposing mountains – the peaks of which were obscured by the lingering fog, and vast expanses of the greenest grass, dotted with cows grazing peacefully. We crossed questionably sturdy bridges, from which we enjoyed magnificent views of powerful streams crashing into jagged rocks. And all this beauty today was just the beginning – a teaser, if you like – before our grand journey into the mountains tomorrow, where we will embark on a 6-7 hour hike, exploring the glorious mountains of this scenic little village.

Until then, we are lucky enough to be staying in our beautiful family home here in the valley. The ‘camping’ part of our journey is yet to begin, as we ease ourselves slowly into our new way of nomadic life. Enjoying the comforts of this perfectly located hut – the terrace with a breathtaking view of the mountains, the welcoming interior, and the warmth and comfort of a home that only family members can bring – only adds to what is a wonderful start to our trip.