Lucerne’s Chapel Bridge at dusk

If there’s one place I’ve come across so far that could make me a poet, it might be Lucerne, Switzerland. I won’t trouble you with the fruits of that endeavor in this forum, but I will try my best to paint a picture of this place for those of you watching from home.

Lucerne, population 60,000, is a classy little resort city in central Switzerland. Beautiful buildings, old and new, work their way almost to the waterfront. Crystal clear Lake Lucerne, shimmering in the sun, prompts oohs and ahhs. In the background, green mountains and majestic snowcaps provide a view that inspires even a cynic to sit back and wonder who built this scene.

My wish for sunshine was granted; today was among the nicest days in weeks. Lucerne was smartly planned: the lakefront was mostly set aside for public use. Today being Sunday, the town was out in full force for a late afternoon walk: couples smooching, old ladies with their dogs, even college-age girls prancing and giggling on the first sunny afternoon in days. (Time to take German lessons!)

Getting back to nerdy stuff, the one museum I have been looking forward to visiting in Switzerland is open only on weekends, so I took off to the lakeside town of Stansstad, about a 15-minute train ride down the lake. Stansstad seems ritzy; a wealthy suburb sporting huge new homes, manicured landscaping and gated driveways. It’s also hiding a huge munitions store — one of dozens of Swiss bunkers drilled deep into the mountains before World War II.

Inside the Swiss War Museum

Surrounded by axis powers, the neutral Swiss decided it was high time to protect themselves. They went deep into the mountains, building bunkers to hide loads of weaponry. They have long since been decommissioned, but the one in Stansstad is open as a museum, so I went. For two francs (cheaper than the Sprite I just bought), I scoped an interesting look at how nervous those times must have been for the independents. Hundreds of feet of tunnels etched into the mountainside: rooms upon rooms of weapons and ammo, bunks for 100 soldiers, quarters for generals and so forth. The tunnels were narrow, damp and cold, but the setup was high-tech and impressive. The Swiss don’t screw around.

I retured to Lucerne and paid a quick visit to the Picasso museum, mostly because I walked by and saw that it was still open and I had an hour to kill. They don’t have much of his artwork on display, but that’s okay — what they do have is a lot more interesting. Four floors of museum space hold hundreds of photos of Picasso at work and at play. Photos of his home, his studio space, his wife, his kids, everything. I’m happy to know that he was aware of the extreme overratedness of pants: many photos showed him relaxing, painting and even dancing in little more than a pair of boxer shorts. Go Pablo.

Lucerne from above

After cooking pasta in the hostel kitchen (my first hot, home-cooked meal in weeks) and chatting with a few folks staying here at the Lucerne backpackers’ hostel, I just spent the last two hours walking around town with a random dude from Philly, exchanging stories about our travels and taking photos of the city.

Because I still have a few minutes left on this computer before my time runs out, I will close with a haiku.

O great Swiss beauties;
Blondes, forests, lakes and mountains.
Shit, I’m going broke.