Bhangra polka in the high Alps...
As you might know if you have read this blog recently, I traveled to a conference in Switzerland recently:
More "official" pictures:
It was a great conference, where we met great people at a great location.
We experienced airline trouble on the way to Switzerland. Rose and I traveled from State College, Pennsylvania, to Detroit, Michigan. From there we flew 7.5 hours to Amsterdam. Upon arrival at 5:50 am in Amsterdam we found out that our plane flight from Amsterdam to Berne, Switzerland, was not flying. In fact, the flight had been cancelled for months. So much for having our tickets confirmed by our travel agent (Penn State Travel Services). Fortunately, KLM Airlines scrambled and booked us in "standby" status on a flight from Amsterdam to Zurich.
So far, so good. However, we arrived in Zurich--you guessed it--without luggage. Now, my luggage arrived in an hour or so, but Rose's did not arrive until the next day (My luggage was designated under Rose's name; her luggage under my name. This meant that "my" luggage now appeared to have a flowery, shade-of-pink textile cover. Go figure). Planner that she is, Rose was prepared for such a setback with carry-on items to sustain her.
From Zurich we traveled by wonderful Swiss trains to Berne, Switzerland and, from there, to Grindelwald. About 24 hours of travel, but we had arrived.
The Alps are beautiful day and night. The view from my room was arresting. Three 11,000- to 13,000-foot mountains right outside my window. The diurnal movement of the sun, coupled with the variable direction and force of the wind, painted the alpine scene throughout the day from an ever-changing palette of color and light. Everything was dominated by white snow, angel-wing white snow.
At night, though, under the full moon, all was shadow and shades of gray, broken once in a while by the pinpoints of winter firefly heat made by miles-away snow skiers carrying torches down the mountain. From the deck of my room I could hear birds call during the day and, at night, I listened to the soft rustle of boughs of evergreens wiggling and caressing their neighbors in the wind that trailed and wound through the valley. Mornings often revealed accumulations of four or five inches of snow that had fallen quietly, softly, lightly, and steadily throughout nights.
We had some time to travel to the "Top of Europe," up to the Jungfrau (here are some live webcams), to an observatory at about 11,500 feet above sea level. It is a simple, but unique and beautiful, journey. A cogwheel railway, the Jungfrau Railways, takes passengers up the mountain. A cogwheel, a toothed wheel on the bottom of the train that engages a toothed rail, is required because the journey is so steep.
We left on the next train for the top of the mountain. Lots of eager tourists. The Sikhs were in a great mood, and we all shared some friendly conversation.
At various points, the train would stop for at an overlook, but the weather was bad. All one could see from our point of rest on the mountain was a sea of white resembling bed sheets flapping around our heads in our back yards hung by our mothers on long-ago summer wash days.
The great rabble in the train moved expectantly higher on the mountain. We finally reached the summit.
"Spectacular" is a word that comes to mind (see some panoramas). There was an "ice palace."
This little bird was on cold on the railing of the observatory that he allowed me to get within two feet of him to take his picture.
We ate lunch in a modest little restaurant at the observatory. Then, we headed down the mountain.
Life is filled with wondrous events, whose origins are supernatural or from God Himself. You might want to call it "serendipity," but to do so would deny that there is a patient purpose behind all we do, for all we experience. I am learning to accept these gifts of the confluence of seemingly unrelated events, as hard as it is, though, for a Catholic to believe that they are worthy of gifts from God. The trip down the mountain delivered one of those gifts.
Across from us sat a couple. As we started to talk, we found that they were from Delhi. They were on their honeymoon.
An Etymological Diversion: Honeymoon \Hon"ey*moon`\, n. The word turns up in English in the middle of the sixteenth century. From Richard Huloet’s Abecedarium Anglico Latinum of 1552 (in modernized spelling): “Honeymoon, a term proverbially applied to such as be new married, which will not fall out at the first, but the one loveth the other at the beginning exceedingly, the likelihood of their exceeding love appearing to assuage, the which time the vulgar people call the honey moon”. Putting it simply, it was that charmed period when married love was at first as sweet as honey, but which waned like the moon and in roughly the same period of time.Oh, I would not put it that cynically! Their love might be new, but let it last!
The bride showed us the wedding henna design on her hand. Mehndi is the Hindi word describing the process of painting patterns on the body with henna paste and the resulting stains left on the skin. Using henna paste, intricate patterns are applied to the skin, traditionally on the hands and feet. Henna is the Persian name for a shrub known as Lawsonia inermis. Henna is native to Asia and the Mediterranean coast of Africa and now thrives in warmer climates all over the world. It has small, four-petaled flowers ranging from yellow to pink and its leaves produce a red dye. Twice a year the leaves are harvested, dried, and ground into a fine powder. This powder is used to dye hair red and for the ancient eastern art of mehndi. Henna contains hennotannic acid, a dye that bonds with the collagen in skin cells and keratin of fingernails and hair, leaving behind a red coloring.
Henna's main use is the adornment of the bride's hands and feet before the marriage ceremony in Hindu and Muslim cultures. Traditional wedding mehndi patterns of henna can be incredibly dense, resembling lace gloves. The patterns often covers the tops and palms of the hands extending up the arms, and the soles and tops of the feet extending up the legs.
Bridal mehndi is a sign of status and celebration and is one of the first gifts from husband to wife. Often symbols of fertility and love such as peacocks, hearts, and mangoes will be incorporated into the design. The new couples initials are sometimes hidden among the patterns to initiate intimacy on the wedding night. A game is played whereby the groom searches the bride's body for their initials. The bride also wore a swarm of red bracelets that were meant to signify joy at her wedding.
The bride and groom looked very happy. They glowed. They explained to us that they had never seen snow prior to their visit to Switzerland. All...all was new.
In the course of our conversation they revealed that one of their favorite movies is Monsoon Wedding, which is one of my favorites, also. I reviewed this movie in a previous post on this weblog. The more they talked with us about Monsoon Wedding, the more they reached my soul.
You see, Monsoon Wedding is a very romantic movie. It is about people from several castes who find overwhelming and astounding love. It contains beautiful images and situations that never fail to move me, even when I just think about them. These people must have thought I was crazy, indeed, when tears well up in my eyes while we were talking. But, the emotions caught up with me and ran me over like a delivery truck running a light in front of a home for the disabled at a New York intersection. But, you can't be embarrassed about joy, can you?
I thought about these two honeymooners traveling down, down, down the mountain, back to Grindelwald, back to their hotel, and back to each other's arms. After a quiet dinner, the moon will rise over the mountains. Its beams will lie on the mountainsides and reflect from the lakes near their hotel. The moon will enter their room, too, and bathe their soft feather comforter and pillows with a pale blue-gray light. They will wonder, how can two people be so far from home and yet feel just like at home? Will the moon ever cast such a light again? Is it true that eyes can be this deep and see so far? How pregnant is the future with their love and happiness? Can bodies burst with joy? It is not possible, is it, that other people could love as they do? But, is it possible there are other people in the world at all? For the moon is high, the light is pale on their skin, their hearts are in synchrony, and their eyes capture all. Tomorrow the sun will rise, but the night lasts forever.
