Zermatt, Switzerland

As soon as we recovered from our jet lag, we sped off to Zermatt, Switzerland at the base of the Matterhorn, for Tom to visit the site of his triumphal climb 32 years ago.  

In 1984 the town had been a village, with a handful of shops and a scattering of hotels and guest houses.  It was known for excluding cars, and for the twice-daily passage of herd of goats with their bells going to and from their mountain pastures.  This time there were plenty of small cars and trucks, and no goats.  We learned later that starting in 1984 development skyrocketed, and except for the peaks overhead, we never would have recognized the place. It has definitely lost a lot of its charm.

 But then, the views are just as magnificent as they were then. 

Along with the small trucks and cars, there were horse-drawn carriages making their way to and from the larger hotels, and a few giving tours.  

 Where there are horses, there will be ... cleanup on aisle five. 

 We found the grave of the guide who had taken Tom to the summit in 1984.  He died on the mountain guiding another climber. 

 We had one of the best meals ever -- mine was beef aged in hay ... and I did taste an essence of hay.

 We said we would share dessert, so they divided it in half, and drew a chocolate border. 

Tom hiked a bit. 

His goal..

 It has a lovely museum. 

 It's a small museum, jammed packed with exhibits.  The replica of a church below is actually half a room, with a mirror reflecting the other half.  Ingenious. 

 They even have their own Monopoly game. 

 A marmot! 

 

 The small museum workshop had examples of active archaeology. 

 
Our hotel was wonderful.  Our room was just to the left of the "G"

Tom and his marmots.  

After four days, we returned to Paris.  For a day.