Wednesday, 6 October 2010

Lausanne: Bike Style

Thursday 9th September 2010 Lausanne, CH: The shower was really hot and really lovely. I didn’t even care that I walked through a public garden and a car park with a towel wrapped around my head! I can’t believe that there was a free hot shower that anyone could use. There was a sign on the door that said, this shower is for everyone, so respect it and we’ll all be able to use it. And they obviously do! Never has a shower felt so good!

After the shower, we took our bikes and our map and planned to see as much as we could in a day. Knowing how much the Pilot hates sightseeing, I knew that today was going to be a challenge, but I knew I wanted us to spend some time together looking at things together. Its not the same doing things by yourself, and although I am prepared to, there are times when being together is more important.

To get to the Cathedral we would have to climb the hill that nearly killed me yesterday as well as keep ascending to the peak of the city. I managed to get to the top of the hill without stopping, using the gears and my legs as much as I could. The Pilot cycled up it as if he was wiping his mouth which made me feel even more pissed off and determined to do it as well. We wove our way through the city up cobbled streets and pathways.

We arrived at a Cuckoo Shop and my eyes widened. I have always wanted a cuckoo clock, but don’t actually remember why. I don’t know if my cousin had one or my granny, but I remember not being able to touch it and vowing to myself that I would own my one day! But, with the prices this shop had, and on my budget, I would not be walking away with a Cuckoo Clock today. The Pilot bought a spoon for one of his friends that collects spoons and we were on our way once more. By this time, I had got it into my head that I wanted a cow bell and a Swiss sock purse. I would have to hunt around to get the best bargain there was out there.

By this time, we had weaved away past chocolate shops and a place which sold Spanish delicacies. Especially my favourite called Turron. It’s like nougat but you can get a hard one and it’s just sweet and crunchy and lovely. You usually eat it around Christmas time as a speciality, but you can get hold of it when you can. The lady I was talking to in the shop proceeded to tell me all of this information, and I couldn’t tell her I already knew, so I just nodded and was polite!

Finally, after much too and fro, we arrived at the Cathedral. It was impressive of course, but there was something missing. I don’t know what, but it didn’t reach out to me. I am on an endless search to walk into a place and say ‘yes, this is sheer beauty’. Its not just in the building, it’s the atmosphere inside. Still, I keep searching for my top three.

After the Cathedral we bought my Cowbell and sat on some steps eating a picnic lunch. We then cycled to Ouchy, and as the Pilot had a little sleep on the wall overlooking the lake, I slowly took out the Toblerone that I had bought and started to unwrap it. If I wasn’t going to get my Cuckoo Clock, then I would get my Swiss Chocolate!

Time was ticking on and the Pilot was starting to get tired, even though I had shared my Toblerone with him! We went to the Olympic Museum as a last port of call and the Pilot was glad to see an escalator to take you to the top. Although we didn’t look in the museum, our budget didn’t stretch to that, we had a look at the sculptures in the garden. They were just amazing. It was then that the Pilot saw the Olympic Flame and thought it would be a great idea if he lit a cigarette from it. Now, I’m not supposed to have cigarettes in my bag, but these days I have fallen into their trap again, so I gave him one. It was probably the one time he hasn’t told me off for smoking, and so I took advantage of the situation and had a puff.

I could tell that he had enough, and not wanting to jeopardise any further days out, we cycled back, and all the time I was thinking about the shower and how lovely it would be to have something like that everywhere we went. 

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