Back to the train station. We had to wait a looooong time for the train to Interlaken so naturally we grabbed eeeeevery shiny unrealistic adventure brochure about Interlaken to pass the time.
Minutes later we were at the ticket counter pointing to the picture that met our criteria: Minimum physical activity and maximum Alps. Seven non-English speaking ticket agents, three trains and one cable care later, we were zip-lining down the Matterhorn. And by Matterhorn I mean some big mountain with snow on it that could totally be the Matterhorn if you just squint a bit.
Holy uberlichtenstiengooberflaugen! Holy jello legs. Holy I want to do that again.
Our last night in Bern we walked around the city covered in Alp and stumbled into the mother of cute restaurant bars.
Good lighting. Fun chairs. Funky waiters. And a civilized bachelor party at the next table. Hot foreign guy jackpot.
But for better of worse, we had to pass up free drinks and foreign tongues for an overnight train to Florence. Two middle bunks baby. Yeah let’s not talk about that.
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