You win some, you lose some: that time we tried to go to the Alps, and ended up on a beach...

I began writing this entry from the front seat of the rental car, as we drove through pouring rain.  We had been in Switzerland for less than 24 hours and were already (and perhaps unwisely, given the weather conditions) throwing in the the towel.   The trip began well.  We broke up our short drive from Strasbourg with an impromptu lunch in Bern and got to wander down its small side streets.  We were dazzled by our first sights of the Alps.  Ditto Lake Thun, where we found a surprise diving board and swam. 

And, of course, we were in a German speaking region, so most of the place names and road signs sound like either bodily functions of parts of the male anatomy.  A telling example, Ausfahrt means exit.  We - but particularly Matt - were endlessly entertained. 

Can you spot the telephone poles and parachutes? Oh, the wonders of nature.

All these great experiences on the way in seemed incongruent with the other, more foreboding signs of what was to come:  double-decker tourist buses, billboards advertising waterfalls, and souvenir shops and hotels everywhere.  Once we arrived at Lauterbrunnen, we were shocked by the shear scale of the tourist infrastructure in what we thought would be pristine hiking country (perhaps if we actually planned our trips, these things wouldn't surprise us).  An example of aforementioned out of control tourism, on the one and only short walk we did in the Alps, our views were interrupted by base jumpers, sky divers, cable cars headed up to the top of the same mountains we planned on hiking and - and this really did us in - a helicopter flying about a hundred feet away. 

We used up our stores of patience, open-mindedness and equanimity within about thirty minutes. Then, using our choicest expletives, we decided to leave as early as possible the next morning, cutting our three day trip down to one.  Yes, we are quitters.  It feels great.  Our sad day in Switzerland led directly into an even sadder day of driving across France.  Post Alp depression + 10 hours of driving + no plan or place to stay for the night does not make for happy travel.  Our final days of the trip seemed destined to be a horrible aimless mess.  Then we remembered about the Internet and the fact that luckily, our campsite had it.  

After using our sophisticated googling skills (pretty sure the exact search was "pretty nature things near Narbonne") we learned that we were very close to Spain's Costa Brava.  We splurged on a hotel, left early the next morning and spent the next two days blissed out on the Mediterranean, hiking our way from beach to beach.  

View from our hotel window

Our time in Calella de Palafrugell was one of the happiest accidents of our trip.  From there we headed back to Madrid for one final day of eating, drinking and park sitting before traveling back to the cat - who - if night yelling is any indication, remembers us.  Success.