i love to goooo a wanderiiiiiiinngg...

Another day off! Huzzah! And it’s still sunny!

Josh and I decided to have adventures today. We trekked out to the gondolas to take a ride up the mountain (there are many, of course, and I’m sure this one had a specific name, but I don’t know that. I know it was one of many big mountains in the alps). The view, and experience, was insanely gorgeous and wonderful. I did get a little nervous — the gondola was really high (does the picture demonstrate this well?). But — totally worth it.

Once the ride stopped, we were greeted by this lovely wood carving.



Then, we started hiking. We went, up and up and up, for about an hour. I can’t even describe the views. I’ll send you to the full collection of pictures on my facebook page (I think you should be able to see them by just clicking on this link: pictures).

The air was noticeably thin; I’ve been slightly aware of this overall in Saas Fee, but only to the extent that it could just as well have been my imagination (not that I’m prone to over-thinking the physical or anything…). Here, I felt the strain. And we hiked at a pretty good pace (as I’m constitutional unable to walk slow) — for a while at least. Then I did in fact start slowing down. And maybe emitting a bit of a squeaking noise from my lungs (at least Josh told me that later, on the way down; apparently I freaked him out a little). Anyhow, I began to feel warn out, and decided to actually stop before I was completely done for (i.e. a moment of wiseness and clarity -- I'm definitely getting old). I'm often frustrated to find actual limits to my body, but I've also gotten better at accepting them (and not hurting myself). We reached a bit of a plateau with a large rock, perfect for sitting. And so I sat.

[this is me sitting. the other is my view from the sitting (before josh hiked up further)]

Josh continued up the mountain — all the way to the top! Quite impressive. Read his story on his own blog.

But let’s return to my sitting. As I begin this sentence, I know I’ll not do justice to the moment, not even come close to the experience. But I’ll try. I sat there, just looking. The clear sky, brisk breeze, and quietness surrounding me. Small noises — the clack of the hoofs of mountain goats (or something) on rock, the wind blowing through, occasionally another hiker passing by. But mostly, quiet. The surroundings dwarfed me, but I didn’t feel small. I felt — peace. I realized the extent of this rare, beautiful moment. I was sitting in the middle of huge mountains on a gorgeous day, here for an amazing academic experience where I spent my days contemplating the world from different perspectives; I will return to the states to start work on my dissertation, the culmination of these years of study, the point where I finally explode in my own ideas and expression; my family and friends are all relatively healthy and happy and in moments of their own stability; I read a really good email that morning. I felt the extent of my privilege — a life of my own building, where, for the most part, I really do what I want to do, following my passions and interests. I’ve overcome fears of leaving home, of change, and, even when still scary, I pretty much jump into new experiences (or push myself, at least). For one brilliant moment, every aspect of my life — professional, familial, personal, worldly, and otherwise — is peaceful, beautiful, and good.

In short, I am happy.

I do fear that that whole paragraph still can only sound trite or cliche, but that’s as close as I can get to the moment. So (Akua particularly, who asked for more of “me” in this blog) — there you go.

After about an hour or so, Josh returned from the peaks of the mountain, and we hiked and talked and laughed (and almost got lost a few times) for about two more hours — the rest of the way back down to town. I’m lucky to be here with such a great friend. Three weeks in close quarters with an other can be tricky, but I think we’ve done well, and I can’t begin to recount our amazing conversations, from the profound to the profane (and definitely the inane).

We made it back to the hotel in time for lunch, which we ate quickly and in relative silence. We were hungry and exhausted. We then retreated to our apartment for naps. Three hours later, we emerged for dinner and the end of the night.

Really, a spectacular day.