Neuchâtel 1/5

Untitled

Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled

Slideshow

It is only fitting I write another entry about Neuchâtel, only because after my first visit, although hilarious in some aspects, I wanted to see Switzerland again without its glorious snow and ice.

And it’s quite nice. Seeing Geneva with colors as my lovely SBB train whisks me away quickly past meadows of greens and yellows, through Yverdon-les-Bains and random forests that appear out of nowhere, and as quickly as it appeared, vanish into more open fields of vineyards, farmland and a slew of graffiti.

The land of plenty... plenty wasted from Absinthe.

It’s rather strange, as I pine away with these serene settings zooming past me. It is strange, that I had to fly some thousands of miles, to see this setting. Then it hits me, this probably exists back in the east coast. Then my thoughts quickly deteriorated. “Who’d be able to enjoy the scenery with the absurd humidity the east coast is known for. Plus, it’s not really traveling. So say my imaginary elitist friends”.

At least here, I’ll get to party hard for three nights, and, as a consolation, I’d be rewarded with these views of alpines and meadows while I nurse hangovers, or worse, boredom.

The train reaches my destination, and I’m quickly snapped back to reality. Rather, more like out of my nap, as I inch closer to 24 hours of no proper sleep. Neuchâtel here I come! Sleep is for the weak…

Pages: 1 2

Facebook Comments

Comments

No comments yet.

Leave a comment

Your email is never published or shared.

(required)

(required)