Poetic Sensibility

25- Knowledge And Surprise

Here's a special little write up for my 25th update! The excerpt is from Romi's blog. It is one of the many posts that Samay read when he was surfing through her blog. In this one, she was in Switzerland. Once again, the sessions that happen in this book are going to happen *for real*. They will be conducted by me on Sundays, starting 15th March at Trilogy Bookstore and Library, Lower Parel. You can register at: http://www.teltrilogy.com/the-poetry-project/. I hope you enjoy the post! Happy reading!

6th May, 2011.

        There are few things that one is never familiar with, no matter how often one experiences it. A journey is one of them. It's a journey where you are self-reliant. The only person you can fall back on is yourself. You can't shotgun. You must be the driver. And there I was, 4 days ago, sitting at the airport lounge at 2 AM, feeling not even remotely self-reliant.

        There could be many reasons behind this. Perhaps I've never quite understood the Swiss francs currency the way I've comprehended pounds or dollars. Or possibly because, though I've carried my international driving permit, I've not been able to master the left-hand-drive. Or that I've never been able to figure out the difference between a cogwheel train and a steam engine. And yet, Keshav's enthusiasm is drawing all kinds of excitement from me. Being a romantic, Keshav was dying to visit Switzerland and travel the 'Romantic Route'. And I had to admit, I was intrigued.

        There was more to it than just that. This time, we were joined by my cousin, Ria, who was a member at the World Wide Volunteers for Organic Farming (WWVOF). She was being shipped to Switzerland on a dairy farm and Keshav, being Keshav, jumped up at the offer of spending a fortnight at a Swiss farm and playing the mouth organ or something like that. At the time it had sounded quite romantic but now I admit it sounds kind of silly. So here I am, 2 days into my farmer-phase, dressed in overalls and planning to call it a night at 9 PM.

        Our days here follow a steady routine. We wake up at an ungodly hour (which is 4 AM), and after Keshav complaining about it volubly for 30 minutes, Mr. Smith, the owner of the farm and the ranch at which we currently reside, leads us to the barn. We have been staying in the main farm building with Mr. Smith's family. This includes his wife, who makes the meanest hot chocolate, and his 2 teenage sons. At the barn, with Keshav being grumpy, we proceed to milk the cows. By "we", I really mean them. I have to admit that the prospect of being kicked by a cow while milking it has terrified me. In my defence, I was really close to doing it before I chickened out at the last minute. Keshav and Ria, however, are unbelievably good at this!

        So, as I take pictures of them working with the cows, Mr. Smith's two sons saddle the horses and take them for a daily run. There are a total of 5 horses and they are *huge*. My favorite one is called "Trouble" and is a black Thoroughbred with a white spot on it's crown and the swishest tail I have ever seen.

        Yesterday, after about 4 hours of toiling away in the field (not really), we were off to the city. The farm is in a little town called Neiderreid, which can be accessed from the main city of Interlaken by train. The train ride is another thing one cannot get used to. The best way to get around in Switzerland is by train. In the last 4 days, I have boarded a train every single day to get somewhere but the view has me speechless every single time. There is something different about it every day. On one day, the snow on top of the alps looks like melting gold as the sun rays fall on it. On other days, the lake gleams so brightly that it hurts the eye. And then on some days, you pass by all kinds of pastures dotted with grazing animals. 

        So, we boarded a train to Interlaken and went to the Cailler chocolate factory. If I had to use one word to define the whole experience, I would say that it was... 'cute'. They guided us through the machinery, showed us a black and white film about how it all began, but the best part was the tasting room. They had laid out every single variety of Cailler chocolates and, well, we decided to skip lunch. After 2 years of the all-the-chocolate-you-can-eat binge, we decided to head back to the farm.

        A pleasant surprise awaited us at the farm. Mr. Smith's children, Royston and Craig, had finally decided that we had passed some test which I had no idea we were subjected to, and they were ready to show us their "secret hideout". So today, after the farm duty was over, they led us to the forest that lay at the edge of the farm. I had a distinct feeling that they were playing a prank on us. But after 20 minutes of serious brisk walking, I beheld the most wonderful and dilapidated tree house I had ever seen. It was perched precariously between two trees with branches sticking out from every side. A rather rickety wood and rope ladder would take us up to it. The interiors were very "bachelor pad" like. There was a soft rug and two blankets neatly folded and placed at the corner. The 5 of us could barely fit into the thing but hey, to it's credit, it didn't crumble to pieces. The boys had smuggled bread and chocolate from their home which we shared among ourselves as they talked about the local school they went to. The experience was homey and surreal at the same time. I wonder if that's even possible.

        I was then struck by a wave of sadness as I realized that we would be saying goodbye to the Smith family in 4 days' time. For the remaining 6 days, we were going to drive to Geneva where Ria wanted to chill, Keshav wanted to "check out the watches and the ladies", and I was desperate to see the library of the International Court of Justice. I suppose this taught me an important lesson. Traveling is not just about seeing. It's a holistic experience. I will have access to thousands of books at the ICJ library and yet I will not learn as much as I have at this farm. Knowledge surprises you in more ways than one.