Swiss alpine evening: contemplating tomorrow's departure

I'm sitting in my hotel room in Zermatt, watching raindrops race down the window as darkness settles over the village. The weather has turned since yesterday's perfect Matterhorn viewing conditions, with a light rain falling steadily for the past couple hours. The temperature has dropped to 8°C, and I've cranked up the heating while contemplating my next move.

This morning began with a sense of accomplishment. After finally seeing the Matterhorn in all its glory yesterday, I felt like I'd achieved what I came here for. But instead of immediately planning to leave, I decided to give myself another day to soak in the atmosphere of this unique car-free village.

I spent the morning browsing through the photos I took yesterday at Gornergrat – nearly 200 of them! – selecting the best ones to keep and share. It's amazing how many angles you can capture the same mountain from, each slightly different but equally mesmerizing. I keep thinking about what Heinrich told me yesterday about visiting every October for 40 years. There's something profound about a mountain that can inspire that kind of devotion.

After a late breakfast, I ventured out to explore more of the village itself. Zermatt is relatively small, but its winding streets and historic wooden buildings deserve attention too. I found myself in the old part of town, where weathered timber houses stand on stone discs to prevent mice from climbing up – an ingenious solution from centuries ago that still works today.

I visited a small exhibition about the history of alpinism in the region. The stories of early climbers attempting the Matterhorn were both inspiring and sobering. The first successful ascent in 1865 ended in tragedy when four of the seven climbers fell to their deaths during the descent. Looking at their primitive equipment compared to what modern climbers use made me appreciate both their courage and the advances in safety technology.

By mid-afternoon, I started feeling that familiar tug – the need to move on. I checked the train schedules and decided that tomorrow would be a good day to head to Italy. The Cinque Terre has been on my mind, and the idea of trading these mountain views for coastal ones feels right. I booked a train for tomorrow morning, which will take me through some spectacular scenery before connecting to La Spezia.

As I was walking back to my hotel, I passed the tourist office and noticed a flyer for an outdoor watercolor workshop happening today. For a moment I considered joining, but the increasing rain made that seem less appealing. Instead, I ducked into a cozy café and ordered a hot chocolate, watching the village life unfold through steamy windows.

There was a family at the next table – parents with two teenagers – having an animated discussion about which hike to attempt tomorrow. I smiled to myself, remembering similar family discussions from my childhood. The way the parents were trying to balance their children's energy levels with realistic expectations felt familiar and endearing.

The hot chocolate was rich and smooth, served with a small piece of dark chocolate on the side. I savored it slowly while contemplating these past few days. Zermatt has been a lesson in patience and appreciation. The mountain doesn't reveal itself on demand – you wait, and sometimes you're rewarded.

Now, as I finalize my packing for tomorrow's journey, I feel a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. Switzerland has been wonderful – from the vibrant energy of Geneva to the serene beauty of Interlaken and now the alpine majesty of Zermatt. But after ten days in one country, I'm ready for new landscapes, new challenges, and new flavors.

The rain continues to fall outside, creating a soothing soundtrack as I prepare for sleep. Tomorrow brings Italy, with its different language, culture, and cuisine. I wonder what trees I'll encounter there, what mountains will frame the horizon, what unexpected encounters await.

Day 64 of 500. The journey continues.