My Bahá'í Pilgrimage During a Crazy Global Pandemic
March 2, 2020
Post 6: Cathedrals and Fabulous French Food
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We bid the Swiss Alps farewell on this stormy day. Our magical time at the Interlaken Airbnb was up, so we booked the next cheapest place we could find, which was in a tiny village called Province. The region had less majestic mountains, but we were taking the road less traveled by tourists, which was bound to be interesting.
This view was like gazing back in time at a medival realm.
Along the way, we stopped in the Old Town district of the city of Bern. It was cold, rainy, and eerily empty as we wandered down the cobbled streets. It was also very green-gray. Most of the buildings were made from sandstone, which somehow gave them an olive hue. Green is my favorite color, so it was fine by me!
I was not a fan of the gloomy drizzle, however. Even with our umbrellas, we were feeling damp and cold. We hunted for buildings to take shelter in. Oddly, many of them were closed. Was the coronavirus to blame, or were the shops here normally closed on a Monday afternoon? We checked the hours on some locked store doors; nope, they were normally open Monday-Friday, morning till night. We began to feel chilled by more than just the rain.
We wandered into a town square and were immediately struck by a Gothic-style cathedral. Its spire towered so high that it seemed to pierce the somber sky. We checked the door; it was unlocked! We took refuge inside.
The Bern Münster Cathedral has the highest church tower in Switzerland. It’s 330 ft (about 100 m) tall!
I had never been in a cathedral before. It was awe-inspiring. The high ceiling, stained-glass windows, and gold pipe organ were so lofty and ornately designed. Everything had an air of holiness about it.
“I read that they designed catherdral ceilings tall and intricate like this to draw your focus to the heavens, to make you feel closer to God,” Travis whispered.
It worked. As I craned my neck to study the ancient artistry, I felt humbled and reverent. I thought of all the effort it had taken to build such a magnificent structure, and all the souls who had come here for spiritual refuge. Sitting on the worn wood benches, we bowed our heads and said healing prayers for the world.
The artisty was incredible. It’s crazy to think that most of it was hand-crafted centuries ago.
When we drove into Province later that day, we immediately got lost. Google Maps didn’t work well in this little rural village, and none of the signs were in English. We finally spotted someone outside, and Katie jumped out of the car to ask for directions (something she had gotten very good at while living in Italy). The woman didn’t speak English, but pointed Katie to a post office, where the manager spoke enough to direct us through the narrow, twisting roads. The village was tiny, so naturally, we weren’t very far from our destination.
Our Airbnb was above the only restaurant in town, which looked like an old-fashioned European inn. A young man with long dreadlocks and a scruffy beard was smoking outside the door. He put out his cigarette as we got out of the car, and cordially introduced himself as Nicolai. He owned this restaurant and Airbnb with his wife.
“Please, I’ll show you to your rooms,” he said. His accent fascinated us. We couldn’t quite place it. We followed him inside and up a well-worn wooden staircase to comfortable rooms that had a pleasant musty smell and a view of the old rooftops and the lake sparkling in the distance. There were real antique keys for the doors, and the windows had real shutters, which Dad loved.
“They usually make fake shutters in the States, but shutters that actually close are so useful,” he said. As a carpenter who has built and remodeled houses for over 40 years, Dad appreciates craftsmanship like this. It was awesome to know that he could build any of these beautiful buildings, too.
We took a pleasant stroll through the playful Province streets. Dad was admiring the stucco on the buildings while Katie conducted mini photoshoots.
After Nicolai had given us a tour of our cozy rooms and the vintage bathroom, he offered to cook us dinner. The restaurant was closed, but there were no other restaurants or stores for miles, so he wanted to make sure we were fed. We gratefully accepted the offer.
The restaurant downstairs was cozy and rustic. Nicolai showed us the menu. It was all written in French.
“So, are you French?” Dad asked. He never hesitates to ask the questions we’re all wondering.
“Yes, me and my wife,” he said. I realized that I had never actually met anyone from France. Weird!
Nicolai seemed very familiar with Americans. “My wife and I worked as chefs in New York City for a few years,” he said. “It was fun, but the big city is exhausting. That’s why we moved here. It’s a good place to raise a family and stay healthy. Most of the food here is from local farmers or my garden. You can really taste the difference.”
He wasn’t kidding. We all agreed that Nicolai made us one of the best meals we had ever had in our lives. Not only because the food was insanely delicious, but because it was prepared with such care and expertise. It was inspiring to meet someone who was so passionate about their work and proud of where they lived. It made me miss the quiet countryside where I grew up.
Later that night, Katie proposed that we head back to the mountains rather than explore another city tomorrow. We all agreed. It would be a two hour drive back to the Alps, and then an even longer drive to our next Airbnb—but well worth it! It would be our last day in Switzerland before we flew to Greece. One last hike through the peaceful peaks would be the perfect way to bid Switzerland farewell.
Or so we thought …
Even without the Alps, Province was a little paradise.
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