Svizterland!

Annnnd so it continues...
Interlaken was the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Fa reals. It's an amazing little city fit snugly between two lakes (inter= in between, laken=lakes...wish it hadn't taken me multiple days to figure that one out...) surrounded by the Swiss Alps. Famous for its extreme sports scene and unreal landscape, it definitely didn't disappoint. For the first time, my travel buddies and I decided to participate in one of the jillions of pre-planned trips offered for college kids in Florence. Not gonna lie, it was a nice break to not be in charge of finding transportation, lodging and keeping ourselves busy all day. Unfortunately, transportation was in the form of an 8 hour bus ride departing from Firenze at 7:00 on Thursday night. Fortunately, those of you who know me (which is most of you, I hope..) know that I am a pseudo-narcoleptic with the impressive quality of falling asleep in any setting in a matter of seconds. So the bus ride wasn't actually a problem for me at all--except that arriving in Interlaken at 3 AM disturbed me from my coma... Whatever, though. We checked into our hostel with the prospect of a guided snowshoeing trip in the morning!
Personally, I was picturing myself mid-blizzard with wooden tennis rackets strapped to my feet trudging through knee-high snow past log cabins with my Saint Bernard on some sort of search and rescue mission. Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic, but that's the image "snowshoeing" conjures in my mind. However, Jenna, Adair and I woke up, donned our "sporty gear" and waited outside our hostel to be picked up by our guide. He showed up to inform us that of the 200+ students who were there that weekend, we were the ONLY three to sign up for snowshoeing that day. Uhh other than making us feel like total weirdos, we were a little disappointed. UNTIL he told us that he could switch us to tomorrow's session, and we could change our paragliding trip to that afternoon! So now instead of having 24 hours to pump myself up to jump off of a mountain with a parachute and a weird Swiss man strapped to my back, I only had two!

Paragliding was absolutely unreal. I imagined that it was going to be pretty complicated--I mean, it seems like it should be, right? I should need a lawyer present or have to sign something in blood or partake in some sort of training session before I run off the side of a mountain, shouldn't I? Nope. Just me and my man Kusi Berger (again, note: German is hilarious. How is a person's last name Berger?!) We got outfitted in our super hot/ feminine boots and fireman pants, put on our giant backpack/seats, proved that we could run 10 steps and we were off!
The three of us were on an absolute high as we wandered around Interlaken for the rest of the afternoon. I think approximately every 5 minutes someone said "What are our lives?!" which is a daily phrase, but felt even more appropriate as we reflected on soaring through the air in the Swiss Alps...
That night most of the kids in the group met up at this goofy "metro bar" connected to the hostel with some of the meanest bouncers I've yet to encounter. Sassy giant Swiss men who demanded ID and that we check our coats. DEMANDED. I was wearing a puffy vest and the man made me check it, for goodness' sakes. When I tried to explain that my puffy vest was not, in fact, a coat but an essential part of my outfit he gave me the "talk to the hand" hand and reassured me, "this does not interest me." Alright, sass.
The next day I psyched myself up for my Balto-esque snowshoeing adventure again--to some avail this time. Because some Swiss couple had signed up for it also, and we only needed 5 people to make a group. In conclusion, of the 200+ aforementioned students we were the only three interested in snowshoeing. Well they're all dummies, because it was an absolute blast. Along with our silly Swiss couple--Andrea and her boyfriend (who liked her way more than she liked him)--and our guide Ronnie we set off on our trek. I'm sure you've already figured that snow shoes aren't wooden tennis rackets. They're the same idea, but more steel and stuff. Bummer.

They're pretty sweet though and easy to use. As Ronnie so eloquently put it "Just walk like you shit your pants." Oh, that's cute. But we had a lot of fun and got some absolutely unreal views of the mountains, city and lakes. To get back down the mountain we took these crazy extreme sleds and I suffered some heckling from my friends for this being my first sledding experience :(

Ronnie also informed us that this was the same course we would be taking when we came back for Night Sledding that evening. So we were obviously professionals by that point. It was actually really really scary at points--we were moving much more quickly than I anticipated.
We spent our time off going to a coffee shop in Interlaken that served American bagels. I had no idea I missed bagels as much as I do. They were so delicious. I could have eaten like 6 of them (mostly thanks to my infinite abyss of a stomach that Italy has created...) but decided to save space for the cheese fondue dinner provided after night sledding.
Night sledding was ridiculous. As I said we were on the same extreme sleds going down this ridiculous course in absolute pitch black--the only light we had was the glowsticks we each had on our backs. It was a trip, and Adair Jenna and I were at our peak weirdness as we whizzed past each other down the mountain talking about the Lion King sky and how everyone looked like little bugs. Toward the end there was like a 12 person pile-up (no one was injured)--it was hilarious. The dinner afterward was in a funny little traditional Swiss restaurant, that apparently looked "straight out of Heidi". Not having seen Heidi, I can't attest to that, but I'll take peoples' word for it. We sat with this funny kid from New Hampshire who worked for the company that organized the trip and thought it was funny to make fun of Holy Cross. He obviously didn't understand that Jenna, Adair and I react to insults toward HC in the same manner that we would react to a direct attack on our families...I think we scared him a little bit, actually. It was a good time, though.
We returned to metro bar that night. The bouncers, who are obviously bipolar, were very friendly and we had a lot of fun. When we woke up the next morning it was unfortunately Sunday, and our Swiss adventure had come to an end. The best part about all of these absurd experiences is that when you're going home, you're going home to Florence! It's like a win-win situation. We obviously snagged another bagel before getting back on the bus for our 8 hour trip back to Italia in order to get home in time for the Superbowl.
So here I am back with the Rizzis, currently still unshowered because there's no towel in my bathroom and I'm too awkward to ask for one...sitting on my bed eating my weight in the Swiss chocolate I bought this weekend. You probably think I'm kidding. I'm not.
Vi amo e mi mancate.
Baci!