Act 8 | Switzerland

With the move from Rome to Spiez I made the transition into Phase II of my journey, that being the phase in which I spend time with old friends (who I haven't seen for years because they went to live on the far side of the globe for a variety of dubious reasons) in their new habitats.

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If ever there were a country that demanded more pictures and less words in a travel report, it be Switzerland. (But alas, this is my travel report and I'm simply not wired to deliver a report with less words).

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My time in Switzerland was spent living the life a simply farm boy, my duties included:

a) blasting scum off paths with pressurised water;

b) pulling weeds from paths and overgrown gardens (veggie or otherwise);

c) and fencing in farm animals.

It was a lot of dirty work (especially after rain when proper gardening footwear became more important) …


… but I was well rewarded anytime I remembered to lift my eyes from the mess beneath me and absorb the spectacular views that surrounded the property.



Those cows don't know how lucky they are.


The second best thing about volunteering in Switzerland was finally having a reason to use utilities in my new leatherman other than the corkscrew & bottle top opener.

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In return for my muscle power I was given a room in the guesthouse – which is called ‘the Schlössli’ which means ‘little castle’ - and food.




I was thankful for a comfortable bed in my own room as I was very very tired from the non-stop sight seeing I had engaged in over the previous couple of weeks. (On my first night there, after a half day of work, I crawled into bed with some things to read and promptly fell asleep before 7pm and the end of the first paragraph.)

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The property is run as a guesthouse by a small community of Christians.


At first I thought the guesthouse also took in orphaned children – one child in particular didn’t seem to have eaten for a long time, nor did she seem accustomed to wearing clothes.


I was later to discover that the young girl was actually Darren & Lizzi’s first born, Ana.


Darren is my old partner in prayer and friend who moved to Switzerland after falling in love with Lizzi on a whirlwind visit. (He is pictured above with the latest addition to the Hight family, Joachin, who was born just weeks before my arrival.)


The best thing about my time in Switzerland was spending time with Darren and his family, and being able to help him get the place ready for a new season of travellers (he is the acting manager the property).


Due to a confusion of Sundays, the Hight family and I ended up at the wrong church on a Sunday morning, which gifted us the time we needed to ascend a local mountain and have lunch at a Swiss Alp.


A Swiss Alp is a small hut in which cheese makers live while tending their cows over the summer months in order to make ‘alp cheese’. (It is Darren and Lizzi’s dream to live in an Alp with all their farm animals.)

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The small community that is employed to run the guesthouse practice daily disciplines together which gives the work a wonderful rhythm:

The day begins with a bible reading and prayer together;

They share morning (and afternoon) tea breaks with one another;

I got chocolate at my first morning tea (and at every subsequent tea break) and cheese at my first lunch. (Just before leaving Greece, I learned from my Nan that I have Northern Italian & Southern Swiss blood on my mothers side of the family, which was comforting to know, as I now have a solid explanation for my love of cheese and chocolate (and the chain letters I've been receiving from the Mafia for many years now).)

Lunch is the major meal of the day for Swiss people and at the property it is always eaten together around a common table. (They take turns in preparing the food.)

Sometimes lunch is outside, and sometimes lunch is inside; members of the community take turns in cooking.

The working day is ended in communal prayer.

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The weirdest encounter of my time in Switzerland occurred every time I observed Darren communicating in all the old Darren ways while directing the community in a completely different language.

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Exploring the territory around the guesthouse outside of work hours proved time and again that Switzerland is beautiful every which way you stroll.

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I was not the only volunteer in the ‘hood during my two week stay, there was also:

Stephanie from Germany;

and Milo & Nancy from Virginia.

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Having grown tired (& quite a bit jealous) of working in such idyllic settings, the American couple and I organised a breakout one Saturday.

We headed for Mexico, which is called ‘France’ in these parts, and (funnily enough) wound up in the tiny hometown of their ancestors.

We then passed through Luis Pasteur’s old stomping ground before a series of wrong turns landed us back on the farm.

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I had my first really positive experience with a chick since beginning my travels in Switzerland – well actually, two chicks – both of the red tailed variety; Both were fleeing the nest before they could fly, as such, I found them ground out beneath the eves of the little castle.

After failing to feed them by hand I put them in a cage - to safeguard them from the ground strikes of cats/foxes and air strikes from kites - with bars large enough for the parents to feed them through the frame.

After a couple of days of working with (mother) nature rather then trying to replace her, I got to release the birds and see one of them successfully fly onto a fence where the mother was able to feed it without needing to work through the bamboo bars any longer.

The moment was captured on camera (albeit a bit of a blur) and can be seeen above. It was really exciting, these ventures so rarely work out the way you plan and hope (on that note, let's not talk about the second chick).