There is a museum in Switzerland called Ballenburg. Here, they have carried “brick by brick, stone by stone, or plank by plank” entire houses from the cantons around the country. Each canton is like a state in America, and each have their own traditional architecture. Before the twentieth century, one could be dropped anywhere in the country and immediately know where they were because of the way the houses looked. As modern buildings were constructed, the unique flavor and culture of each Canton was being lost. Therefore, this open air museum was created to show case the cantons. Interestedly enough, it is laid out in the same shape as the country, with the various cantons located in their corresponding parts of the museum.
Charming houses of many shapes, materials, sizes and colors greeted us as we strolled through the museum. I was shocked at the immense size of many of the houses! Farm houses held together with wooden pegs are easily the size of the average two story, if not a little larger. Many of them were set up like they originally were when they still hosted an agricultural family. I thought it was pretty interesting how similar may of the things in Switzerland are to the Pioneer Farm just outside of Tacoma; similar wood working equipment, similar furniture and so forth.
There is a “Hand’s On” house in the middle of the museum where we are able to try several different things for ourselves. The most exciting of these was the organ thing. I had to unstop all the knobs and pump my feet up and down, like I was paddling through a lake, in order to make any noise come out. I played Memory, from Cats, because it is the only song I still remember from that year of piano lessons. My Professor, her Husband, our TA and a classmate applauded with enthusiasm that far outweighed my skill I am sure, but I was delight to play none the less. Never before had piano required so much of my body!
This place was riddled with people who still work the same, old time trades. We stumbled upon a basket weaver and the yeasty smell from a bakery. The woman deftly pulled and rolled the bread dough into round balls that she later put directly into the fire! Given the fantastic smell, I am certain it must be some fantastic bread. Thinking we were walking to a restaurant, we found a working kitchen instead. There was no light except what came through the small windows on one side of the house. Even so, the cook managed to make a welcoming atmosphere as he dished us bowls of pea and potato soup. He wore a persistent grin and a cheerful, red and white apron under his jacket. From the little round bowls and over-sized spoons we happily slurped up the delicious, creamy, flavorful soup. A little onion, a little potato, some peas, and a lot of wonderful creamy broth; I would have gladly written down the recipe had I only been able to understand what he was saying!
When thinking about Switzerland, the first thing that always comes to mind is chocolate. Therefore you should not be surprised to hear about the chocolatier who was also there. His chocolate shop was so huge! Even the little part I could see showed it to be a rather complicated process. Giant gears turn and pump pistons that push the mixer to keep the beautiful brown chocolate moving. I found it even more interesting to watch the man pour the chocolate into the molds. When I think of chocolate, I think of a piece of smooth, luscious, happy goodness. When the chocolate is poured into the molds, the man dumped in the liquid chocolate, and harshly smacked the sides of the container to get the bubbles out. No smooth, dreaminess here! Just a “whack whackwhack” interrupted by the scrapping of the excess chocolate and a loud smack when it is slapped on the counter. It certainly was nothing like the commercials on TV make it out to be. The man was not even that friendly. He did not smile once the entire time I eagerly leaned on the railing to watch him. Then again, how would you feel if people stared at you while you worked, all day every day? His sour face did not diminish my chocolate experience; the whole places smells much too good for that.
A little more walking brought us to the “Fromagerie,” or the cheese maker. This place too, smelled delightful, though in a more savory way. Upon entering the building we were greeted by a huge kettle that appears to be filled with yellowish, soapy water. Come to find out, it’s cheese that has just been boiled over a large fire. I was rather surprised. The kind lady gave us a sample of her cheese. It was incredibly creamy without being spreadable, and had a wonderfully savory flavor I shall not soon forget. I almost wish I had bought cheese instead of chocolate, but the deed had been done, and I enjoyed the sweet goodness instead.
By this time we had to rush to meet our group. We could only glance briefly at the wood carver, with whom I was incredibly impressed. He was making a nativity scene, and working on Mary when I arrived. I sat in a chair and watched him work for as long as I could. I was amazed by his skill! He created the smallest lines on every part of her body, and his fingers always managed to find the right tool out of the plethora on his work bench. With the support of his thumb the lines were made thicker or deeper as the piece demanded. No shaving was too small for him to make, no line so insignificant that it did not deserve the time it would take to switch tools. Many curls of wood lingered on his apron. His work made the wood look soft and I desperately wanted to finger the scraps and test their hardness. Good or bad, I was called away for shortage of time before I could.
The bus, train, and other bus back went fairly quickly. We were next to a beautiful blue lake the entire time, so I had a pleasing prospect to absorb my attention as we rode past. Charming houses, several clock towers, and even spotted goats captured my attention. It makes me wonder what people think when they come to Seattle. Do we have scenery that so engrosses them, the way their beautiful country captivates me?
When we returned to the hostel I was so exhausted. Our window faces the sunrise, which makes for an unfortunately early morning. A short attempt at napping ended with a pair of episodes of Lost with Kayla. Apparently, there is another group of people who are also watching it, and they have almost caught up to us. We are determined to get ahead once more, but not at the sacrifice of our experience in Switzerland of course!
For dinner we made Breakfast Burritos, primarily because it meant we could use salsa and bacon in our meal. Despite all my talk of loving bacon, I have only cooked it once before and burned it so horribly, we tossed it out instead of wasting the mashed potato pizza it would have ruined. The next pieces were okay, but I still laugh to think that I, who has previously failed miserably at bacon, was placed in charge of cooking it. Then again, Kayla adamantly insisted she did not cook bacon well, and Casey declared himself a chopper and dicer, but no more. So Kayla “cooked” the eggs, and Casey chopped the tomato and bell pepper. When the bacon was finished, I drained out most of the grease, then cooked the bell pepper and an onion in the pan. I did an excellent job, if I do say so myself. There was about the right amount of grease, and it cooked long enough to get the weepiness out of the onion. With eggs, bacon, cheese, salsa, and corn, we had some pretty fantastic burritos! It helped that we were so hungry. Apparently, the burner Kayla was using for the eggs did not heat up very hot, so they refused to cook until it was ingeniously suggested that they be moved to a different burner. From there, it took only moments for our feast to begin. I am so completely enjoying this, “cook for yourself” thing, and my comrades happily agree to do the dishes afterwards. I’d call that a “win-win” situation.
After all the dinner clean-up was complete, we tracked own The Sound of Music, and watched the first half. I am rather certain I have not seen it since the first grade, when we went to Opa Chuck and Oma Shirley’s house across the street and ate hard candy while we watched it in their little TV room. I was only mildly surprised to realize that I knew most of the songs anyway. Of course, I still have to test myself on the second half of the film. It was getting late and we had to get up early this morning for our long ride to the museum, so we stopped at the intermission. Tomorrow though, we shall see just how much I remember, and how well.
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