• Other Train travels with Tara
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Introduction: This is part of a series of mini-travel photo stories on Switzerland that will run for several weeks. A very special 16-year-old named Tara takes the train on Saturdays to explore the country where she has grown up. Her mother, GL editor Ellen Wallace, goes along for the ride.

The end of November, start of December: snow as low as the shoreline along the Rhone River in canton Valais. The sun was out and it looked like we could expect a balmy but wintry afternoon, as we caught the train in Sierre, heading towards Lausanne.

There are two good ways to get to Bern since December 2007, through the new Loetschberg tunnel or along the Rhone. The first is slightly more expensive because it is run by a private company, although you can buy tickets through the CFF rail company.

Tunnels are boring (accidental pun) and I want Tara to enjoy the scenery, so we took the longer and cheaper route, via Lausanne.

The Rhone valley bed is the heartland of the famous apricots of Valais, so we studied the neat little rectangles that make up the orchards, row upon row of short, tightly pruned trees.

We come here in July to buy large boxes of very ripe fruit, some of it to eat but most of it to turn into cathedral window jams. The jam was always good but about three years ago we learned a Valais secret: crack the pit of the apricot and crush the inner pit, which is akin to an almond, and add this to the jam for extra flavour.

In my haste to make sure Tara was well prepared for this first, longer trip on a train, I forgot to prepare me – a reminder for anyone traveling with a person who is disabled or who needs extra help. You’re more effective if you’re comfortable. Valais in winter tends to be sunny and dry. I forgot sunglasses. Tara prefers the easy solution and covers her eyes.

The minute we left the station in Lausanne, heading up the hill towards Palézieux, a chilly damp air began to creep in. The sun disappeared and, as so often happens in early winter in this area between Vaud and Fribourg, fog obliterated the countryside. I very much regretted not wearing a warm scarf.

Here is what I took in our bag: a change of clothes for Tara, who doesn’t worry about tidiness and doesn’t always understand about using public toilets; a large bottle of water, finely sliced dried meat from a recent trip of mine to canton Graubuenden (excellent for train trips), paper towels to serve as napkins, four sandwiches with cheese and hearty brown bread, three apples, two yogurts, a spoon, nuts and raisins.

Mittens for Tara even though she has never worn them in her 16 years – she likes to put her hands in her mouth and mittens or gloves annoy her.

I thought we were well prepared but by the time we had ridden through foggy Fribourg the food and drink was gone. Tara enjoyed the scenery, but she enjoyed the food even more.

We bought a small pannetoni muffin and a bottle of orange juice from the train trolley man, who spoke only Italian, it seemed. Cost: CHF9. My German is limited and rusty, but Swiss trains are a good place to practice your language skills, on things like counting money.

Bern turned out to be exciting for Tara. The station was, as always, crowded and bustling and loud. When she was younger such situations caused her to stop in her tracks, apparently a case of sensory overload, but as she gets older she is able to handle this  better and the crowds pleased her hugely.

A large and jolly Santa Claus was handing out sweets in the centre of the station, but since Tara can’t hold out her hand and doesn’t see the point of pushing to the front of a line, he never spotted her among the more aggressive little people. It was just as well she didn’t know what she missed.

My goal was to take a one hour walk, then take a train home, so we headed for the old bear pits, which I vaguely remembered were under construction. I also wanted to see the newly unveiled Parliament building, but with Tara, trips need to remain simple, with limited plans. The Parliament would have to wait.

Our hike took us to the outdoor Christmas market, filled with shoppers buying everything from cheap trinkets to fine artisanal tree ornaments and expensive jewelry. My favourite bit was a section near the hot mulled wine table where you could buy Santa Claus suits of all kinds, including some pretty skimpy ones for Mrs. Claus.

The long walk to the old bear pits, down the lovely arcaded Kramgasse road, gave us much to look at. Store windows are bright with colours this time of year and the chic (and expensive) clothes, jewelry, artisan and furniture shops here make excellent window-shopping. My favourite place, though, is the bottom of the street, past the noise of the clock tower with its tourists and the shoppers, just above the bear pit, now being turned into a bear park. It’s a magical place near the bridge, where you stand above medieval rooftops, now spotted with snow, and look out and up at the Rosengarten park, where there are always people strolling.

Tara, like most 16-year-olds I’ve met, is not impressed by the adult obsession with scenery. She tolerated my comments about the lovely rooftops, then tugged on my sleeve to get me heading back up the street. Another 20-minute walk to the station, with Tara marching briskly among the crowds and then a lovely long ride back down through Fribourg as the light faded, warmed by a spinach tart and a Swiss hot dog purchased at the very affordable Migros carryout at the train station.

This was our first long trip, five hours of peace for Tara’s father, and an interesting journey for us.
Views from the train, 30 November 2008