I See London, I See France by Sarah Mlynowski

Author:Sarah Mlynowski [Mlynowski, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-07-10T18:00:00+00:00

INTERLAKEN, SWITZERLAND

The Basics: Do you like skiing, hiking, and banking? Then Switzerland is for you!

Don’t worry, there’s lots to do if you’re a lazyass, too.

“I will miss the cheese,” I say sadly. I stretch back in my train seat. It’s going to be a while. Around five and a half hours and we have to switch trains in Bern.

“So will I,” Leela tells me. “Does Switzerland have any good cheese?”

“Swiss cheese?”

“I don’t really like Swiss cheese,” she says. “Do you?”

“I don’t mind it,” I say. “With good mustard, rye bread, and a crunchy piece of lettuce.”

She shakes her head. “It has too many holes. Why would I want my cheese to have holes in it? What is the reason for the holes? I am paying for the cheese. Not the holes.”

“I see your point,” I say.

Leela turns to me. “So how come you never told Kat?”

“About what?”

“About your mom? I know you don’t really talk about it, but you and Kat seem close. I’m surprised.”

“It just never came up,” I say. “We hang out on campus. She’s never been to my house or met my mom.”

“Never?” she asks.

“No.”

She nods. “I’m not going to lie, part of me likes that I’m the only one who knows.”

This would probably be a good time to tell her that I told Jackson, and that we’re still in touch, but I don’t. I know it would upset her.

I’ve left my Wi-Fi off on the train so Leela won’t see his messages come through.

“Omigod, look,” she says, peering out the window. “It’s like we’re in the end of The Sound of Music.”

Out the window, we see a blue sky behind high snowcapped mountains. We snap some pictures. Then some selfies.

“Should I just cave and get one of those selfie sticks?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “They’re so embarrassing.”

“Say cheese,” she says.

“Swiss,” I say.

“Thanks for switching the plans again,” she says. “You’re the best.”

“No problem,” I tell her. “I don’t mind.” It’s pretty here.

We get off at Bern, then get on another train headed to Interlaken. When Leela’s in the bathroom, I send one of the selfies to Jackson. He sends me back one of him sitting at a picnic table, holding a frothy glass of beer. He’s smiling. I save it to my phone.

Tip: The official languages of Switzerland are Italian, German, French, and Romansh.

No, that wasn’t a typo. Romansh is a real language—it comes from Latin. And in case you’re wondering—no, Swiss is not a language.

“Omigod, smell,” Leela says.

Sniff, sniff. “It smells like—”

“Mint gum!” she cries.

“And leaves!”

“And spring!”

“And fresh water!”

“And snow!”

We take more pictures and more deep breaths before going inside.

Our hostel is basically a backpacker commune. It looks like a huge chalet in the middle of a mountain that has everything you could possibly need. The rooms are upstairs and downstairs is a massive restaurant/sports bar.

After getting a quick tour of the hostel, we take our large keys and head up to our dorm room to put down our stuff. The room is huge and sparse and all the furniture is wood.

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