Life Lesson #36 - The Swiss Grift

Today I learned that you can’t lie to a Swiss train guard.

That they are humourless is no urban myth.

I'm ashamed to admit that it was a calculated decision... because everything is so expensive in Switzerland that we brought all our own food from home, and could only afford to sleep in a prison cell. The price for a single ticket from Zurich Airport to Lucerne is more than I made in a week when I worked at Countdown Lynfield. (Admittedly, I was on $6.46 an hour!)

When we arrived in Lucerne, having taken two trains with nary a ticket inspector in sight, we both immediately believed we had outsmarted the Swiss train system.

“We’ve still got two unclipped tickets!” I whispered as we left the station, taking care to ensure nobody could hear.

“If we pretend to be hapless tourists, we could use them on the trip back to the airport on Sunday!” responded Paul so quickly that I knew he’d been plotting too.

“We probably won’t get checked anyway. It’s worth the risk!” we agreed.

Apparently the new Swiss train fare evasion penalty system took effect today. The Aryan inspector who told me this through clenched teeth about five minutes after the train left Lucerne had discarded my pitiful whimper of “we must have accidentally bought tickets in the wrong direction” without even looking up from his shiny new penalty fare payment machine.

I’ve always been a hopeless liar. Not wanting to appear guilty, I continued to protest my innocence as he barked for my details.

If I’d realised I’d have to keep up the charade for so long, I’d never have bothered. He couldn’t figure out how to work his little machine and ended up in front of us for over 20 minutes, most of them spent with the tech helpdesk feeding him step-by-step instructions on how to work it.

Meanwhile the whole carriage is looking at us like heathen criminals, so I loudly discuss with Paul "how on earth has this happened?" and "is he sure the correct tickets aren’t in his bag" and "we know the guy’s only doing his job but this is so unfair because we did pay for our tickets" etc.

Unfortunately, Paul’s as bad at improv as I am at lying. The first rule of improv is to run with it. You go along with the story your scene partner comes up with, however stupid it may seem.

My scene partner didn’t go along with it. Instead I was met with a ‘don’t bother, no one believes you anyway’ look and, to the ticket inspector, “don’t worry about him, we’ll pay the fine now”.

So I shrank into my seat and hand over my credit card. The penalties have doubled since yesterday. They’re  now three times what I used to make in a week at Countdown Lynfield. And he makes us buy tickets as well.

I always seem to learn Life Lessons the wrong way. Today I’m just glad ‘thou shalt not lie’ isn’t one of the Ten Commandments!

A Weekend in Lucerne

First time in Switzerland. And it feels fantastic!

We flew into slick Zurich airport, and are staying an hour away in Lucerne. The Swiss transport system works like clockwork... which figures, I guess!

We chose Lucerne because we felt it symbolises 'real' Switzerland. Nestled in the Alps, it's tiny compared with Zurich or Geneva, has beautiful architecture, a friendly vibe, and jaw-dropping mountain views.

A surprising gem in Lucerne is the statue of the dying lion. It's carved directly into an enormous rockface. Mark Twain (who spent a lot of time in Lucerne) called it "the most moving and mournful piece of stone in the world".

We visited two Art Galleries on the first day. The Rosengart Gallery and the Kunstmusem Luzern. The Rosengart Gallery was special because the entire gallery was donated by a wealthy widow who lovingly compiled it over decades, then donated it to the city. She was friends with Picasso and he painted her several times. As we were about to leave, I saw a familiar glimmer of life in the eyes of the elderly woman walking past me. Sure enough, it was an 80 year old Angela Rosengart! She gave me a knowing look.

My favourite of Picasso's portraits of his friend Angela Rosengart.

Having deliberately put off most of our outdoor sightseeing for Sunday after reading weather reports, we were gutted to wake up to thick fog. Beautiful Mt Pilatus, so epic the day before, wasn't even visible through the mist.

Unwilling to give up on our dream of going up the Swiss Alps, we visited the information centre for advice. She showed us live webcams that confirmed that the view up Pilatus was roughly like being inside an enormous ball of cotton wool.

But then she showed us another mountain called Rigi, an hour away by boat. And up there it was clear!

We were sold and boarded the boat about four minutes later.

The sky cleared as we crossed Lake Lucerne.

Unfortunately, as we ascended the mountain on the steepest train I've ever been on, we realised there was still a whole lot of fog. As we climbed through the cotton wool white-out, we lost faith that it would clear.

Which only made it more wonderful when we eventually popped out above the clouds and saw the perfect view for the first time! The clouds rested halfway up the mountain like a ghostly lake, hiding all trace of anything man-made. We couldn't see roads, cars, buildings, or even the water!

iPhone panorama with Paul reading on the hill.

We walked as far away from the train platform as we could, and slipped and slid our way to the most deserted area on the summit.

Then we sat there and talked and read for an hour.

We just couldn't stop taking photos!

We just couldn't stop taking photos!

We took one of the last trains back down the mountain, spending our last 20 minutes sharing a mulled wine that, naturally, cost as much as a three course meal would back home!

We unintentionally caught our train back down the mountain just in time for one of the best sunsets of my life; with Mt Pilatus in the distance.

Halfway down the mountain we boarded a cable car.

These photos were taken about ten seconds apart.

It was comparatively miserable at the bottom of the mountain. We felt like we were in on a secret about what was above the fog.

Still, the lake had a Stieg Larsson-like quality.

It was dark by the time we got back into Lucerne. The town is lit so beautifully at this time of year, and in the darkness you couldn't tell the clouds were so low.

We had one last overpriced mulled wine, then headed back on the train to Zurich.

A Night in the Slammer

I spent my first night Switzerland in prison. And the second, actually.

Lucerne turned its Jail into a hotel about 15 year ago, and given the price of accommodation in this town, we were only too happy to swap a hotel room for a cell!

The best part was that we were upgraded to their most expensive suite! I have no idea how we pulled it off, but somehow we found ourselves spending the night in comparative luxury in the aptly named Barabas Suite.

The prison art is still painted on to the wall...

The only downside to our time in the slammer was the nightclub downstairs. Bring earplugs. But other than that, it was fantastic, and I can't recommend it highly enough!