A travel log of a journey to Switzerland

It's seven o'clock in the morning on an October day, it's still very dark and I am going to leave the hostel in Milan where I have spent a not so pleasant night. Firstly because my roommates were very loud from the start and I didn't bring earplugs, and although there was a moment of peace when they left at eleven o'clock, all hell broke loose in the room again when they came back drunk at three in the morning. And I had a very hectic day since I had been sat down for four hours for the Saber Pro Test (a test to determine the quality of higher education) in the Colombian Embassy in Milan. I barely slept three hours.

When I left that place in the capital of European fashion, with the characteristic cold of the beginning of autumn, I left behind that anguish and bad night along with my shampoo in the bathroom. I smiled as I headed towards Loreto station with Centrale station as the intended destination, from where, in an hour I would have to take the train that crosses the Alps to bring me to Montreux where I would meet my aunt and her Swiss husband.

There were no delays or setbacks during the 10 minutes, if that, that it took the train to arrive and then bring me to Centrale station. I went to a cafeteria called Juicebar and, since I had no idea what to order, I used my dodgy Italian to ask for a caffè macchiato and a brioche di cioccolato (chocolate brioche or crossaint) to subdue my hunger. I also bought a kind of yogurt with granola and fruits to eat on the trip. I spent about 8 euros, which is nearly 30, 000 Colombian Pesos. Yes, all that for a breakfast. Welcome to the First World.

I sat in front of where the train would leave from, my eyes darting between the gigantic clock in the background, my phone and where the train would pull into. A strange anxiety overwhelmed me. I suppose it was a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Excitement to see my aunt after so much time and at the same time to see a country that is leading in the world and of which I have dreamt about since I was a child. The nervousness was ridiculously normal, and I say ridiculously because I have travelled around the world since I was 14 years old, but normal because six year after starting travelling, I still had the same fears that I always have when I begin a new journey.

At 8:24am we departed, it was quite a struggle to get to my carriage and seat, but I got there and the train moved away from that bustling city, from that boisterous dawn on a Thursday and, between an infinity of rails, the suburbs seemed to say goodbye.

I sat next to the window and even though the carriage was empty, I respected my turn by the window by sitting in an upright position. At first it was very boring and totally artificial with companies and industries of all kinds appeared on the horizon. It seemed endless.

Everything seemed the same and it had already been almost an hour, my clock said 9:17am and the landscape was still poor. I felt disappointed. No! Wait, there's a change. Water began to appear on one side of the track and there are hills in the background. We continued along a coastal route through a town that looks like it's from 700 years ago. We stop. The speaker on the carriage announced that we had reached Stresa.

We continued after stopping for no more than three minutes, and my eyes grew when I saw a small island on the lake and on it what resembled a castle. I asked the person in front of me and they told me that it was Isola Bella without giving me any other details. The landscape that had surprised me from the moment the lake appeared did not stop doing so now. I saw mountains and farm; I think that the fact that I grew up near to these makes me feel at home when I see them.

It was 10:12 and once again the speaker announced that we were drawing near to Domodossola; the train stopped for three minutes before we set off again. My phone began to continuously lose signal. We entered a tunnel which was quite long, making me practically unreachable.

We arrived at a place that seemed to be taken from a post-apocalyptic film, with old cars that had been eaten away by corrosion. The train stopped, but the speaker had not made any announcements. I realised that I was in Switzerland and, unlike what I had thought, there were also rigid controls when it came to crossingthe border. An official came onto the carriage and, strangely, only asked me for a document. I gave them my passport, which they observed and then returned to me. They got off the train, which then continued on.

That gloomy place was left behind and after a few moments the Alps began to rise on the horizon. I felt insignificant before its immensity, and although they are not the highest mountains in the world they are majestic and inspire respect with their snowy peaks that almost look grey.

In the valley on the sides of the train I saw many crops of a yellowish plant that I heard have something to do with grapes. There were kilometres of vineyards that reached up to Montreux that began to appear. When I began to see the great Lake Geneva (or Lac Léman), I realised that I had arrived. The speaker confirmed this and, after three hours of travel, I got off the train and the husband of my aunt greeted me with a hug. He told me that he had something to show me and we went down the stairs. The city seemed to be made up of different levels. We arrived at the edge of the lake that was adorned with flowers of all kinds and colours. I was absolutely amazed by the beauty and purity of this place. It was the final station, but the trip through this little country that loves chocolate and cheese was just beginning.

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