Our first ski date on our Europe second honeymoon was a tour to the Pizol just a few miles northerly from Chur, Switzerland. The weather was beautiful, we felt strong, and the snow was perfect.
At the end of the day, to keep with tradition we skied to a gasthaus midway down the mountain for a beer.
After a refreshing Hefeweizen and a bowl of Tagessuppe, we boarded the gondola to ride the rest of the way down the mountain. Lou said he felt jet lag starting to hit and needed an afternoon espresso. Knowing that the espresso would include at least one irresistible desert, and still full from the gasthaus, I tried to dissuade him.
“You’re just feeling those beers you drank. I don’t have any jet lag. Let’s go do some shopping,” I coaxed.
Lou rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
The views from the gondola were expansive and he changed the subject to a dissertation of the geographic differences between the glacial carving of the two valleys below us compared with a gigantic Alps terminal moraine he’d observed in Italy.
When we exited the gondola and walked up to the rental car, Lou laughed. No jet lag? Indeed. Hanging on the rear wiper of our car was the makeshift neck wallet I’d sewed for myself during our preparations back in Colorado. A nod to the law abiding Swiss: inside, my passport, driver’s license and 60 Euros were intact.