It was a gray, overcast day, but that didn't diminish the scenery - rolling hills with fields of corn and hay, cattle contentedly grazing on green hillsides, picturesque chalets dotting the hills and neatly kept villages, bountiful gardens along side the chalets - turn 360 degrees, and it was all picture postcard-quality scenery. Nor did gray skies dampen the spirits of our tour group, now in our third day in Switzerland.
Hans Bernet, with his extensive knowledge of European history, who had taught languages in Europe, and who with his wife, Bobbie, had biked much of Switzerland, was our chief guide on this tour. Someone piped up, "Hans, where are the mountains?"
Indeed, where are the mountains? Like so many others, I had grown up listening to Swiss folk songs about "glaciers of ice, near edelweiss," and ballads about lonesome Swiss lads yodeling to the mountain and their echo yodeling back, reminding them of what they lacked - namely a pretty Swiss maiden with whom to share a mountain chalet overlooking a green valley. With the nearest mountain to Green County being Mt. Rushmore more than two states away, how could I reconcile the tales we heard of how the Swiss settled in Green County because it reminded them of their homeland?
In fact, when orienting visitors to "America's Little Switzerland," my shtick usually begins with asking visitors if they noticed how many of us Swiss-Americans are a bit on the short side. I then remind them that our ancestors were raised on a mountainside, and there was an evolutionary advantage to a low center of gravity. The high center of gravity of tall folks was unstable - tall folks rolled off the mountainside and either didn't live to reproduce, or migrated north to Germany and Holland. That's why the Germans and the Dutch are taller than the Swiss.
Okay, so I exaggerated a bit. But you hate to let the truth, er, a slight exaggeration, interfere with a good story.
But now, traveling through northern Switzerland, I see that not all our ancestors were raised on a mountainside, but just on low hills where a high center of gravity poses no significant threat. I now see how Green County reminded immigrants of their native Switzerland, at least the less mountainous areas. Tours can be instructive.
Our tour group was in high spirits, especially Marian Kundert, with her newly acquired colorful Swiss cap. She didn't have that cap when we started out that morning. Nor had we been any place where she could have bought it, begged it or borrowed it. Where did it come from?
Earlier that morning, we had left our hotel in Herisau and traveled to St. Gallen, an ancient European city, and capital of the Canton of the same name. But the story begins some 1,400 years ago, in 612, when an Irish monk, Gallus, tired of his travels, settled in the Steinbach Valley, and established a hermitage.
A century later, the Alemanic prince, Othmar, expanded the hermitage of Gallus and established a library. By the 9th century, the library had built up a notable collection of books. The monastery was destined to become one of the most important north of the Alps, with a reputation as a place of learning extending into the Germanic lands to the north.
The monastery endured a couple of rough spots, beginning with the Reformation that threatened the abbey. After 1531, clerical sovereignty was restored. Then in 1798, French troops marched into St. Gall, attacking the buildings, but the library's precious collection of books was saved. In 1805 the newly formed Canton of St. Gallen ended the monastery's clerical and administrative functions, but preserved the library.
In the 1700s, the majestic cathedral was constructed in the baroque style on the grounds of the abbey.
In 1983, the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated the abbey as a World Cultural Site.
The Abbey Library of Saint Gall, known as the "Stiftsbibliothek of St. Gallen," is a treasure chest of preserved history. It contains more than 160,000 volumes, many of which date prior to 1500, and more than 400 prior to year 1000. It remains one of the finest sources of medieval history. And thanks to Swiss neutrality during WWII, the cathedral and the Stiftsbibliothek with its priceless documents remains intact.
Visitors to this library must wear special sandals issued by the facility in order not to mar the intricately carved wooden floors. After a couple of hours of viewing ancient maps and manuscripts protectively encased, we visited the magnificent cathedral on the abbey grounds.
It remained gray and overcast as we assembled on the courtyard of the abbey grounds. A couple dozen or so Swiss men, also visitors to the abbey, were standing in a loose formation waiting to go into the Stiftsbibliothek. They looked really sharp, all dressed up and wearing colorful embroidered Swiss caps.
They probably thought we were a bunch of dumb tourists. We were tourists, all right. But we had some of the Monroe Swiss Singers in our group. We could show them a thing or two. That is, Marian could.
Without introduction, Marian stepped right in front of that assemblage, and treated those Swiss good ol' boys, a cappella, to a stirring yodeling solo.
Those Swiss boys went wild with applause. What appeared to be the elder statesman and leader of that group approached Marian and, with a gesture of affection and respect, removed his colorful Swiss cap, and gently placed it on Marian's head.
The crowd, both theirs, and ours, again went wild with cheers and applause.
So when Marian appears at Turner Hall, or any place else around Monroe or New Glarus, proudly wearing a colorful Swiss cap, you now know - the rest of the story, the true story of how Marian acquired her colorful Swiss cap.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears each Friday in The Monroe Times.
Hans Bernet, with his extensive knowledge of European history, who had taught languages in Europe, and who with his wife, Bobbie, had biked much of Switzerland, was our chief guide on this tour. Someone piped up, "Hans, where are the mountains?"
Indeed, where are the mountains? Like so many others, I had grown up listening to Swiss folk songs about "glaciers of ice, near edelweiss," and ballads about lonesome Swiss lads yodeling to the mountain and their echo yodeling back, reminding them of what they lacked - namely a pretty Swiss maiden with whom to share a mountain chalet overlooking a green valley. With the nearest mountain to Green County being Mt. Rushmore more than two states away, how could I reconcile the tales we heard of how the Swiss settled in Green County because it reminded them of their homeland?
In fact, when orienting visitors to "America's Little Switzerland," my shtick usually begins with asking visitors if they noticed how many of us Swiss-Americans are a bit on the short side. I then remind them that our ancestors were raised on a mountainside, and there was an evolutionary advantage to a low center of gravity. The high center of gravity of tall folks was unstable - tall folks rolled off the mountainside and either didn't live to reproduce, or migrated north to Germany and Holland. That's why the Germans and the Dutch are taller than the Swiss.
Okay, so I exaggerated a bit. But you hate to let the truth, er, a slight exaggeration, interfere with a good story.
But now, traveling through northern Switzerland, I see that not all our ancestors were raised on a mountainside, but just on low hills where a high center of gravity poses no significant threat. I now see how Green County reminded immigrants of their native Switzerland, at least the less mountainous areas. Tours can be instructive.
Our tour group was in high spirits, especially Marian Kundert, with her newly acquired colorful Swiss cap. She didn't have that cap when we started out that morning. Nor had we been any place where she could have bought it, begged it or borrowed it. Where did it come from?
Earlier that morning, we had left our hotel in Herisau and traveled to St. Gallen, an ancient European city, and capital of the Canton of the same name. But the story begins some 1,400 years ago, in 612, when an Irish monk, Gallus, tired of his travels, settled in the Steinbach Valley, and established a hermitage.
A century later, the Alemanic prince, Othmar, expanded the hermitage of Gallus and established a library. By the 9th century, the library had built up a notable collection of books. The monastery was destined to become one of the most important north of the Alps, with a reputation as a place of learning extending into the Germanic lands to the north.
The monastery endured a couple of rough spots, beginning with the Reformation that threatened the abbey. After 1531, clerical sovereignty was restored. Then in 1798, French troops marched into St. Gall, attacking the buildings, but the library's precious collection of books was saved. In 1805 the newly formed Canton of St. Gallen ended the monastery's clerical and administrative functions, but preserved the library.
In the 1700s, the majestic cathedral was constructed in the baroque style on the grounds of the abbey.
In 1983, the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated the abbey as a World Cultural Site.
The Abbey Library of Saint Gall, known as the "Stiftsbibliothek of St. Gallen," is a treasure chest of preserved history. It contains more than 160,000 volumes, many of which date prior to 1500, and more than 400 prior to year 1000. It remains one of the finest sources of medieval history. And thanks to Swiss neutrality during WWII, the cathedral and the Stiftsbibliothek with its priceless documents remains intact.
Visitors to this library must wear special sandals issued by the facility in order not to mar the intricately carved wooden floors. After a couple of hours of viewing ancient maps and manuscripts protectively encased, we visited the magnificent cathedral on the abbey grounds.
It remained gray and overcast as we assembled on the courtyard of the abbey grounds. A couple dozen or so Swiss men, also visitors to the abbey, were standing in a loose formation waiting to go into the Stiftsbibliothek. They looked really sharp, all dressed up and wearing colorful embroidered Swiss caps.
They probably thought we were a bunch of dumb tourists. We were tourists, all right. But we had some of the Monroe Swiss Singers in our group. We could show them a thing or two. That is, Marian could.
Without introduction, Marian stepped right in front of that assemblage, and treated those Swiss good ol' boys, a cappella, to a stirring yodeling solo.
Those Swiss boys went wild with applause. What appeared to be the elder statesman and leader of that group approached Marian and, with a gesture of affection and respect, removed his colorful Swiss cap, and gently placed it on Marian's head.
The crowd, both theirs, and ours, again went wild with cheers and applause.
So when Marian appears at Turner Hall, or any place else around Monroe or New Glarus, proudly wearing a colorful Swiss cap, you now know - the rest of the story, the true story of how Marian acquired her colorful Swiss cap.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears each Friday in The Monroe Times.
