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Last night was a bit of a relaxing. Today, we go to town to grab breakfast. Chris is feeling better from the Hogmanay craziness. We walk in to a cafe, and this would actually be the first time I’m feeling out of place. French is everywhere. Chris knows my pain. I can’t even order food in English. Neuch-folks are the strictly French speakers. They’d rather have a tooth pulled first than speak English to you. Or, somewhere along a long conversation in Swiss-French, a random English word will pop out. I live for those moments. Like yesterday, after taking a cab from the train station to Serrières, the cabby talked in Swiss-French throughout the drive and while taking out our luggages, he get’s to mine, and then mutters, “Ah, too heavy”.
To top it all, I order for an omelette, and Chris translates it to me, “It’s too early for omelette”. And this is close to 11 a.m. This is awful news coming from an egg aficionado. So I’m left with cold cut sandwiches, and tea (and to pointing to items I want and saying, “Merci”). Good tea though, and I like how they serve their milk, in tiny cups made of chocolate.
We later head over to Bern, along with Jason. What can I say, except Bern is definitely worth looking into. And you just have to check out the bear pits. Literally, it’s a pit, with bears. It’s where they throw the criminals over to keep them in check. At least that’s the theory we could come up with.
Chris tempted me to join him climb the giant cathedral clock tower. I wimped out. And I’m happy I did. I’d find out it was a ghastly 508 narrow spiral climb… agonizing… stone steps. My knees still hurt from the Carlton Hill incident. Balancing on frozen cobble stoned streets was a feat in itself already.
We head back to the train station. I should have paid attention to Chris and Jason’s worried expressions while they tried to find the right train. Come Monday, I’ll pay dearly for this inattentiveness.