More of Switzerland 1956

Isn’t it wonderful in old age to have friends you have known since childhood? My last post about our school trip to Switzerland in 1956 elicited this comment from Marie, another former schoolmate:

“… that brought back some happy memories. I went on the same trip and remember the scenery. I remember the train taking us up the Jungfrau and the station half way up. We were kitted out with skis for my first and last time. It was foggy and we were sunburnt to our surprise. I had my first iced coffee at the cafe near the summit. We were served horse meat too at our hotel and I remember one balmy evening singing along to the song ‘Blueberry hill’ in a hostelry nearby. I remember the long train journey there and stopping at Basel station and having breakfast on the platform, beautifully clean, fresh rolls with rhubarb jam and coffee. Thank you for bringing to life these memories of my first foreign holiday. It was magical at the age of 16 to have such an experience. I felt very lucky.”

And that in turn brought back more memories for me. My family has always doubted my recollection of our arrival in Switzerland, with breakfast on a spotlessly clean platform of Basle station where we ate from long tables decked out in starched white cloths. Thanks, Marie, for confirming that memory!

The trip up the Jungfrau was memorable for me in that I was left behind at Kleine Scheidegg, and not allowed to take the train up to the summit (Jungfraujoch) because my nose kept bleeding and our supervising teachers were afraid it could be a symptom of something serious that might be aggravated by high altitude. So I missed out on the skis and iced coffee. But I did get sunburnt! I suppose the teachers were taking a risk in leaving me to my own devices, but I behaved myself and didn’t get into mischief. I recently found these videos on YouTube and was amused to see that the train we took 68 years ago appears to be still running up to Schynige Platte! And the hotel at Kleine Scheidegg looks pretty much the same as in 1956.

Hotel at Kleine Scheidegg in 1956

I have to confess that in spite of living in Switzerland for 51 years, I have never been up to the Jungfraujoch.

I’d forgotten our shock at being served horsemeat, which some of our party refused to touch, but I do recall my first experience of a “proper” salad dressing and the neat way the waitress crossed the forks across the knives on our empty plates to prevent them falling off as she cleared our table. I still do that to this day!

Outstanding in my mind is our excursion to the lake of Oeschinensee, where we happily paddled our tired feet in the icy cold water. Whoever took this photo had a much steadier hand than I did – it’s one of the few of mine that isn’t blurred! Margaret and I (slim in those days!) are standing in the centre.

We also experienced the festivities on August 1, Swiss national day, when the bonfire was lit and a firework show took place in spite of the pouring rain (I later discovered that it almost always rains here on August 1). I wrote a description home to my parents:

“It poured last night & was a real shame because there was dancing and music and things. That was originally planned in the open, but when it rained that was impossible so they had it in the chalet where the boys sleep. There is a big sports room and they had it there. We joined in the dancing – everyone in the room was doing different steps! Some people waltzed, some rumbaed, some foxtrotted. We did a funny sort of hip-swaying step, 2 steps forward & 1 step back. We enjoyed ourselves in spite of the rain and danced from half past eight to half past nine, same steps to every dance, although the tempo was different for each! When we got back to the hotel (just across the road) we were locked out and the old lady who owns the hotel was mad:

“I very displeased wiz your party,” she said, “You should be in ‘ere by ten o’clock. Hurry to bed!” The whole of the village was over at the chalet dancing, so I don’t see why she should have been so cross.

Most of the boys were smoking and getting drunk. The cider here is alcoholic … very cheap and very strong …  B. got drunk and was standing on the balcony with a walking stick singing “Davy Crockett” and shooting Indians on the church roof …”

It might have been experiences such as this that made me refrain, during my teaching career, from taking a school party of teenagers away for more than one day! My admiration for those who accompanied us is still very fervent: they supervised and cared for us, kept us well occupied, and allowed us plenty of rope but not enough to hang ourselves, and we all returned intact and no worse for wear, even the most degenerate bunch of smoking and boozing lads!