Our life in Weil: Waiting 'til the cows come home...

Have you ever wondered from where different sayings derive? I have found one possible answer to the phrase posed in the title - and the answer is: about 4 months. But first I need to tell a story. Last weekend, a group of fellow teachers, Delynn and I travelled down into the foothill region of the Swiss Alps. We had a grand time together as we stuffed six adults into one of the school's "buses". The school actually owns two seven-passenger vehicles for transportation needs. Now, we can fit seven children into the cars, but six adults makes for rather close company if you sit anywhere but in the front seat... Luckily (or not) I was picked to drive. The reason we went to such contortions folding everyone into the car was we wanted to see the cows come home. In late spring, the Swiss herdsmen troop their cows up into the Alpine pastures for grazing. They feel that they get a better quality milk from their herds - and with Swiss milk chocolate and such wonderful cheeses, who can really argue with their logic. In the late summer, before the coming snows, the Swiss dutifully (the Swiss do most things dutifully) bring their cows back down from the mountains and through town to the lower pastures. Each cow is given a cow bell - the larger the bell, so the story goes, the more milk the cow produced during the summer season. Some of the better producing cows are also festooned with a crown of flowers to impress the other cows in town. It is a most festive occasion for bringing people together so they can celebrate, eat, dance and buy stuff.

The "Alpenzug" - they really close the road for this...

Our fellow teachers (Aubrey, Allison, Amy-Jo and Anne)

The little village of Plaffeien had such a celebration called an "Alpenzug" and we heard such great things about it that we just had to go. As I said, the day was beautiful blue with just a little fog. Unfortunately, a long Stau (German for traffic jam), a forgotten backpack (I must admit it was mine) and a couple of wrong turns delayed our group of teachers from getting to Plaffeien for the start of the Alpenzug. We were afraid that we might miss the cows but God was looking out for our intrepid band of travellers - as we were about 8 km from Plaffeien travelling down a two lane road, we saw in the distance a huge herd of cows coming down this same main road. There was a team of folks moving everyone off of the road to a pull-off area. We scrambled out of the car and started taking pictures. The cacophony of bells was incredibly loud - we had to practically yell to hear each other over the wonderful clanging of the cow bells. Wow! What an experience. (Try the video below...) The herdsmen were dressed in their "Alpenzug" best, carrying along their beverage of choice for the long trip down to the new pastures.

"Well, we have to eat anyway..."

Swiss Folk dancing - reminds me a bit of round dancing

Wood carver, plying his trade

With the addition of so many extra people visiting the small village, parking was at a premium. We had to pull of the road at one point for an oncoming cow parade and there was nowhere to park but in someones driveway. We got out to take pictures but after the cows got by, we apparently didn't leave soon enough because a gentleman, with an incredibly heavy Swiss accent, starting saying what we can only assume to be unkind things to us. We think part of it was because we are from out of town (actually out of country...) and they probably had had enough of out-of-towners.

But it all evens out. When we finally got into the center of the festivities, we met other friends from school, some students and their parents, watched some Swiss folk-dancing, listened to Alpine horns, ate wurst and melted cheese Raclette (yum!) and just had a blessed time. One of our highlights was meeting the "hat lady" - she had a booth in town selling hats. Our fellow teachers starting looking for hats to purchase and we got to talking with the hat lady. She was running the same business her mother had started 97 years ago. Even though she was born and raised in this same village, she graciously spoke in high German so that I could understand and translate for the rest of the group. When I told her about us - that we were Americans, she got a huge grin on her face and clapped her hands together. She was so excited to meet us. We gestured, stumbed through our German, laughed and throughly enjoyed our little hat lady. It made the trip down to Plaffeien most memorable.