Weary Wanderer

There are still reasons to wake up early, open crusted eyes, and take in the diffused morning light of dawn.

Having never been to Switzerland my mind raced with romanticized, and frankly, over fictionalized images of the Swiss Alps. Skiing down the snow capped peaks of an impossibly high mountain, only to fall into green meadows lush with lavender and whatever other alpine flowers grow in Switzerland. I left my apartment in Lombardy Italy, just north of Milan, and headed for the train station as my stomach yearned for coffee and my mind for an experience that seemed unattainable.

The train arrived, nothing like the dirty rundown Italian trains, this train was clean for one thing and had super modern straight lines both outside and inside the cars. The windows were like paintings that were waking up at the same pace I was, slowly allowing more light to enter and accepting the slight heat that accompanied the light. The first most exciting part of the ride was that I was alone in my car for a good fifteen minutes, which was great because my breath reeked of train station coffee, but then seemingly out of nowhere I was bombarded by brain signals that overwhelmed my thoughts and eyes to the point of drunken stupor.

The peaks of the Alps began to peak over the broken clay roofs on the left side of the train, where I was sitting, and in no time Lago Maggiore took up the space in between the train tracks and the feet of the mountains in front of my eyes. I was so dumbfounded by the beauty of the landscape in front of me that I was ignoring the Swiss train inspectors who were asking me for me passport in Italian.

There were two very short men, in what looked to me like police uniforms, that is if police uniforms were particularly fitted and less fear inducing. I reached into my bag and pulled out the required document, half paying attention to the inspectors who were asking me the most ridiculous questions as to why I was travelling into their country, and half still stupidity by the view to my left that they decided to distract me from. By the time that they accepted my presence on the train, and in their country, the view had disappeared and I was looking at my own reflection in the window as we passed through the first of many tunnels.

Upon exiting the tunnel, and once again seeing the sheer beauty of the alpine landscape, I felt a similar feeling to what I had felt waking up that morning.

There are still reasons to wake up early.