The Column

Just for fun, I’ve decided to post my newspaper column from this week online. When Julianne visited me, we ended up in Zermatt, and I felt the need to give about 10,000 people the details. Yes, I somehow began writing a weekly column for The Budget in September, which is possibly the most unique newspaper on the planet. Just think, you could subscribe and read my column, with a bonus of all the news that the 2,000 residents of Sugarcreek, Ohio can produce! The police log (“We found a stray dog and received a complaint about a speeding motorist…”) is my favorite. You can also get detailed reports from Amish communities across the US and Canada in the letters section. “The weather is cloudy, we’re canning peaches again, J.R. Yoder’s and M.S. Troyer’s visited this forenoon.” etc.

Just send a check for $42 ($48, if you’re outside Ohio), with a note that says, “I hear that Mary Ann’s column, Vantage Points, is stunningly brilliant. Please allow me to subscribe to your newspaper!” (The Budget, P.O. Box 249, Sugarcreek, OH 44681, www.thebudgetnewspaper.com)

Vantage Points

At the Foot of the Matterhorn

Editor's note: I decided that the column was acutually far too long and wordy to hog space on this blog. So, I deleted the first half, and leave you with a sample.

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Another hour later, our train pulled into the car-free town of Zermatt. Hundreds of tourists walked through the streets, while electric carts moved luggage and people to hotels. Occasionally, a horse-drawn carriage plodded by, taking its stylish passengers to the fanciest hotels. Zermatt is so cute, you wonder whether Walt Disney designed the wooden houses with window boxes overflowing with red geraniums.

After turning a bend in the street, we could finally see the Matterhorn. Its bare rock rose behind the smaller mountains softened by evergreens. We eyed the cable cars, but decided we would hike up the hillside. Tiny, wooden huts dotted the hillside as we slowly left Zermatt behind.

By the time we reached the second cable car station, two sweat marks on my shirt clearly showed where my backpack straps had been. Cable car after cable car swung past us, whisking tourists up the mountainside.

“This isn’t really cheating. We’ll hike back down, right?” Our decision adequately justified, we watched the valley zip by through the glass of our cable car. We exited at a restaurant that would serve hot chocolate and soup to skiers and snow boarders in a few months.

After soaking up a closer view of the Matterhorn, we began to hike toward Zermatt, whose buildings now looked like tiny specks in the distant valley. From this height, the simple mountain huts and the hotels charging $500 per night looked identical.

Just as we neared the cable car station again, the sound of singing drifted up our path. At a small café, a group of Swiss people were raising their glasses to someone and singing. Then one of them started yodeling.

Before I go any further, let me explain that yodeling is a sensitive topic for me. If I write about this, will people think that the Swiss do nothing but walk around in suspenders or frilly dresses while playing the Alphorn or the accordion? (Really, most wear jeans and work in offices.)

How many Europeans believe the stereotype of the American tourist? The American wears a t-shirt, baseball hat, and white tennis shoes, while being photographed making goofy poses in front of important cultural landmarks. (You know, pretending to hold up the tower of Pisa or standing in front of a statue while pointing at the sky, such that in the picture, your finger goes right up the statue’s nose.)

While listening to the yodeling, I thought back to how Julianne and I stood on the banister of the restaurant’s patio. We took pictures of each other “hanging” from the top of the Matterhorn, or “holding” the entire mountain in the palm of our hands. I looked down. I was wearing a t-shirt, but (phew!) no baseball cap and no white tennis shoes. My tennis shoes were light grey.


© Mary Ann Miller, 2006
First printed in The Budget, Nov. 1, 2006.