Let's Meet in Switzerland

During my first year in Barcelona, as the summer was slowly creeping up, my mum and I couldn’t resist meeting up with one another abroad, as is our tradition, and sometime before August, we had said, “Let’s meet in Switzerland.”

We opted for slower travel, all by trains, and passed through some of the most beautiful places. The weather was perfect, the sun was shining, and a bottle of water cost you an arm and a leg — alas, it was Switzerland!

I last visited this beautiful country when I was at the end of highschool during my German exchange, and it was just as magical as I remembered it. Revisiting a place always feels a bit like returning home, or the girl I was, 16 years old and bright eyed, roaming Lucerne with my best friends. Except now, it was with my mum, and there’s an extra bittersweetness in knowing every day is so precious together, before I return to my new life, in a new chapter. I’ll always love Switzerland, and mama? I’ll always meet you there.

Embarking on this fun, slow travel journey with my mum was like stepping into a living tapestry, where each thread wove together tales of landscapes, history, and shared moments. It was an immersion into the soul of the country. The gentle sway of the carriages, the ever-changing vistas framed by panoramic windows, and the quiet companionship of my mum beside me made the journey feel like we were floating through a painting. Every place we stopped was its own small world, its own rhythm of life unfolding.

Zurich: The Gateway

Our journey commenced in Zurich, a city where modernity and history intertwine like ivy on old stone. Strolling along the Bahnhofstrasse, we marveled at the juxtaposition of sleek boutiques set against the backdrop of historic architecture. We enjoyed the cafes, visiting Cafe Elena where everything is as pink and perfect in real life as it looked on the photos! The Limmat River whispered tales of bygone eras, its waters reflecting the city's vibrant life.​ We’d stroll back to our hotel when the sun was setting, and we felt the quiet anticipation of the days ahead.

Departing from Zurich felt bittersweet because we knew our journey would also end here, full circle, and if you travel, you know how time flies… but enough of that, we have a whole adventure to have first!

Saint Moritz: Where Nature and Luxury Converge

The train lulled us to sleep from the early morning and we gently awoke in St. Moritz, a haven where the pristine lakes mirror the majesty of the surrounding Alps. Known for its luxurious ambiance, the town's true charm lay in its natural beauty. We wandered along Lake St. Moritz, breathing in the crisp air, feeling both invigorated and serene.​

St. Moritz is where alpine glamour was born—a place of pristine slopes, glistening lakes, and a legacy as rich as its visitors. Nestled in the Engadin Valley, this world-renowned resort town has been a playground for the elite since 1864, when hotelier Johannes Badrutt wagered that its winter sun was enough to entice summer guests to stay through the season. They did—and thus, winter tourism was born. Host to two Winter Olympics and the annual White Turf horse races on its frozen lake, St. Moritz is synonymous with opulence, where fur-clad skiers carve through powder by day and sip champagne in gilded lounges by night.

Yet, beyond its glitz, the crisp mountain air and golden light reminded us more than ever that nature is the true luxury here ;)

Bernina Express to Tirano: A Tapestry of Terrains

Boarding the famed Bernina Express, we embarked on a voyage through landscapes so varied it felt as though we traversed multiple countries in a single day… probably because we did!

I can admit to not knowing nearly enough information or fun trivia about trains prior to this trip, but during (and now after) I must say I am a fan. Let me tell you about our beloved Bernina.

The Bernina Express isn’t just a train—it’s a masterpiece on rails, a journey through time, altitude, and some of the most breathtaking landscapes in the world. Opened in 1910, this UNESCO-listed railway connects Switzerland and Italy, winding its way from the glacial peaks of the Engadin to the sun-drenched vineyards of Tirano. It crosses the Bernina Pass (2,253m), (the highest railway crossing in the Alps), where the air is crisp and the glaciers seem close enough to touch.

The train then glides over the Landwasser Viaduct, an architectural marvel curving 65 meters above the valley floor, and descends through spirals like the Brusio Circular Viaduct, a feat of engineering designed to navigate the steep descent into Italy. (I wish my Oupa was along for the ride with us, he’s an engineer and he would have felt like a kid in a candy shop).

Along the way, us and the other passengers were immersed in childlike wonder, witnessing a world shifting before our eyes—snowfields give way to emerald lakes, then to chestnut forests and Italian palms. The Bernina Express isn’t just about getting from one place to another—it’s about watching nature transform, feeling the altitude shift in your chest, and crossing borders not just on a map, but in the landscape itself! Poetic, romanticised? I know… but can’t help it.

From the shimmering glaciers to the verdant valleys, each scene was a testament to nature's artistry. Crossing the Brusio spiral viaduct, we couldn't help but marvel at the ingenuity of those who carved this path through such rugged terrain.​ I didn’t want to blink in case we missed anything. I also didn’t want to disembark.. until I saw our next stop and my heart fluttered.

Lugano: An Italian Embrace

As we arrived in Lugano, the air grew warmer, infused with the scent of blooming flora. The city's Italian influence was palpable—from the melodic cadence of the local dialect to the delectable flavors of the cuisine. We sat by Lake Lugano, savoring gelato, and watched as the setting sun painted the sky in hues of rose and gold.​

Lugano is where Switzerland flirts with Italy, where the lake shimmers like liquid silk, and the air hums with something slow and sweet. It’s a love affair, a deep sigh.

I daydreamed about the pastel-hued, neoclassical palazzos lining the waterfront, their shuttered windows holding secrets of another time. I imagined weddings by the lake, vows carried off by the breeze, the scent of jasmine and espresso lingering in the air. In the harbor, Ferrari-red, racecar-shaped boats sat charmingly in the water, waiting for someone to take them for a joyride across the sunlit waves.

Mornings here belonged to bistro breakfasts—flaky cornetti, café macchiatos so perfect they felt like poetry, the kind of slow rituals that made time stretch a little longer. And always, the mountains stood watching—Monte Brè, Monte San Salvatore—whispering, ‘Don’t go, darlings. Stay forever.’"

Gotthard Panorama Express: Through the Heart of Switzerland

The Gotthard Panorama Express carried us from the Mediterranean ambiance of the south back into the heart of Switzerland. The journey seamlessly blended boat and train travel, offering panoramic views of the Reuss Valley and the iconic Wassen Church, which playfully appeared and disappeared as we navigated the spiral loops of the track. ​My head felt a bit dizzy, but not because of motion sickness, because for a moment, I couldn’t tell if my head was spinning from the altitude or if the beauty was just too much to hold all at once!

Interlaken: Between Two Lakes

Interlaken felt like a serene pause in our journey. The towering presence of the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau mountains served as a majestic backdrop to our leisurely explorations. I kept looking up so much so my neck ached, and it was a divine sort of ache.

The mountains and everywhere you looked was just so beautiful. It felt so peaceful, as if we were in a fairy-tale, and it is all because of the beautiful history.

I remember writing in my diary that this is a place caught between two worlds—two lakes, two towering peaks, two forces of nature always at play. Long before it became Switzerland’s adventure capital, it was a place of quiet devotion—home to an Augustinian monastery in the 12th century, where monks tended to their prayers beneath the same sky that now hums with paragliders. The town, cradled between Lake Thun and Lake Brienz, feels like it was sculpted by water itself—glacial rivers rush through, carving out paths, while koi fish swirl lazily in hidden garden ponds, golden and flickering like melted sunlight.

Beyond the charming town center, farmhouses dot the rolling green fields, the kind of green that feels untouched, impossibly vivid. The land is still worked by hand in places, and if you listen closely, you can hear cowbells echo in the distance, a soft and steady heartbeat of the land.

But my favorite thing? Watching the locals jump into the Aare River, letting the turquoise current carry them home, no resistance, just trust. This is actually common practice in different areas of Switzerland, and it must be the best mode of transportation I have ever seen. There’s something poetic about it, about surrendering to the water, about knowing the river knows the way. It made me wonder how often we fight the currents of our own lives when all we really need to do is let go.

Mama and I meandered through Höhematte Park every evening and as the sun set behind the mountains I felt I heard God whisper. What were those whispers, you may ask? Oh, darling, find yourself in Interlaken one day, and listen.

GoldenPass Line to Montreux: A Descent into Elegance

The GoldenPass Line gently guided us from the alpine landscapes to the sophisticated shores of Montreux. Ah! Montreux, mon amore! The journey was a sensory delight, with each turn revealing vineyards clinging to terraced hillsides and the expansive shimmer of Lake Geneva. And when I say shimmer, I mean it glistened like something out of a myth, the kind of place poets write about and painters try to capture but never quite succeed. Montreux welcomed us with its jazz-infused soul and the promenade echoing with melodies of past festivals.​

Across the water lay Évian-les-Bains, a French town known for its thermal spas and the purity of its springs. The lake's surface mirrored the sky, creating an ethereal landscape that felt like heaven. We sat by the shore, just watching, just breathing, wrapped in the quiet, golden hour glow.

Montreux is a town that has always belonged to artists and wanderers. It has drawn musicians, writers, and dreamers for centuries—Lord Byron found inspiration here, Freddie Mercury made it his sanctuary, and the Montreux Jazz Festival became legend. Its history is written in melodies, in poetry, in the kind of beauty that lingers long after you leave.

I felt in my element here—switching effortlessly back to French, rolling the words off my tongue like I had never stopped speaking them. It all felt so natural, so easy, like slipping into a version of myself I had missed.

And the way the town moves—slow, effortless, like the rhythm of the lake itself. The promenade stretched before us, lined with palm trees, the scent of flowers lingering in the warm air. It was the kind of place that made me want to walk forever, just listening, just absorbing.

In Montreux, time didn’t feel linear. It felt like it curved, like the past and present blurred together, like the echoes of music and poetry would never quite fade. And maybe, if you listened closely enough, they never did.

Zermatt: At the Foot of the Matterhorn

Our final destination, Zermatt, was nestled beneath the iconic Matterhorn, standing like an ancient guardian over the town. A place of myth and mountain legends, where the air is crisp with adventure and history lingers in the wooden chalets and winding paths.

Before it became a world-renowned alpine retreat, Zermatt was a humble farming village, its people living in the shadow of the untamed peaks, untouched by the outside world until the golden age of mountaineering. In 1865, the first ascent of the Matterhorn by Edward Whymper changed everything—its triumph and tragedy cementing Zermatt as a destination for explorers, dreamers, and those drawn to the call of the mountains.

One of the highlights of our stay was hiking through the Gorner Gorge, a hidden wonder carved by the Gornera River over thousands of years. It revealed a world untouched, where rock formations twisted like something sculpted by time itself, and waterfalls tumbled into pools of turquoise so clear they seemed otherworldly. As we traversed narrow wooden walkways and climbed steep staircases (go mama!), the sunlight filtered through the narrow openings above, casting dancing patterns on the moss-covered walls. The air was cool, damp, humming with the energy of rushing water. It was impossible to ignore the feeling of being somewhere sacred, a secret realm where nature still ruled, timeless and untamed.

But perhaps what stayed with me most wasn’t the towering peaks or even the gorge itself—it was the river that ran beside our hotel, a force so fierce, so constant, yet somehow safe, like the earth’s own heartbeat. I never realized how something so powerful could feel so comforting, how the sound of rushing water could cradle you like a lullaby. At night, with the window slightly open, the river was there—endless, unwavering—a reminder that some things never stop moving, never stop flowing, no matter what.

Traveling by train through Switzerland was more than just a mode of transportation; it was an immersion into the soul of the country. The gentle sway of the carriages, the ever-changing vistas framed by panoramic windows, and the shared smiles with fellow travelers created a journey that was both introspective and expansive.

Each destination left an indelible mark on our hearts, a testament to the transformative power of travel, and that as always, sharing a piece of the world with someone with half your blood makes it all the more sacred—everything is doubled, the beauty, the magic, the life of it all.