This Is Why Switzerland Gets Away With Everything
Zermatt and the strange ability of beauty to override everything else
I always feel at home when I come to Switzerland. I lived in Zurich when I first started working and got to know the country reasonably well in the intervening years.
As dry and serious as its reputation is, it’s a funny place, really, with different language groups and very independent cantons (regions) that have very little to do with each other but are somehow glued together by a mere happenstance of geography — being ring-fenced by the alps — and their love for an Athenian model of direct democracy, where anybody that collects 50,000 signatures can call for a nationwide referendum on what color shoes should be worn to the supermarket on Thursdays.
Ever since leaving, I always romantically recall my time there. Living in Switzerland was a paradise for me: I could ski throughout the winter, run on trails without damaging my joints, indulge in a dangerous variety of chocolate and take a short drive to Italy whenever I got bored.
It only takes ten minutes of being back that I am reminded about how it wasn’t all sunshine and chocolates. I think back to my annoying downstairs neighbors who complained about me flushing the toilet after ten pm (yes, even when it was brown) and told me off for using the wrong color trash bag (yes, they went through the dumpster).
Then, I shiver as I recall the amount of speeding and parking fines I had to pay to the local authorities (that one, there is no excuse for, but 5km over the limit and you will get caught 100% of the time). Come to think of it, it’s surprising I survived my time there, given the fines and how everything, from a takeaway pizza to a cappuccino, cost a kidney and a half.
This is what was going through my head as the snow-dusted Matterhorn popped into view when our shuttle train pulled into Zermatt. And, just like that, Switzerland played its trick again and seduced me with it’s raw beauty. Every negative thought instantly drained from my body. Nothing else mattered.
Her majesty, the Matterhorn
We traveled to Zermatt after a one night stopover in Milan and then proceeded on a relatively short three hour journey across the border in Domodossola via car (because of strikes on the Italian side), passing via Macugnaga, glimpsing the Monte Rosa and deadly Marinelli Couloir1 and then boarded the Matterhorn express train for the final stretch into the car free village2 of Zermatt.
From being waved through the Swiss border as we entered Valais to the train running on time and the hotel cart waiting for us at the station, the journey was a textbook case of Swiss efficiency3.
It was a welcome change to be on the Swiss side of these majestic Alps after not having skied since Leo was born. My family has for decades eschewed the more hardcore and renowned Swiss Alps for the beauty of the red rock, sun-kissed Dolomite variant in Northeastern Italy. Now, though, with a child in tow, the six hour journey from Milan after flying from Copenhagen was unpalatable.
There are certainly worse places to fall back on than one with a view of arguably the most famous mountain in the Alps. At first glance, the Matterhorn doesn’t look nearly as impressive when viewed from town as it does on your Toblerone bars. The story changes once you work your way up and see it up close.
It towers above everything else with its pointy stone peak emerging from the layers of snow. Every angle you view it from as you work your way down the long slopes of Zermatt does it justice in a different way. What doesn’t do it nearly as much justice, however, are the wannabe influencers spending half their ski day posing in front of it with duck faces, trying to get the perfectly manicured shot — while simultaneously polluting everyone else’s picture — of a mountain that has been pictured millions of times.
Influencers in the way or not, the Matterhorn is a must-see up close. It is one of the few famous mountains that actually holds up in person regardless of the weather conditions.
Hitting the slopes
The quality of skiing in Zermatt is very high. Perfectly groomed pistes are flanked by official off-piste terrain that the more hard-core skiers can attempt at their own risk. The pistes are, for the most part, long — which is nice because getting up to the top of the mountains and glaciers is done by abnormally long cable-car processions when compared to other Alps domains.
The ski area itself comprises over 360km of runs when counting the Italian side of the mountain that you can access with a supplementary pass, without having to take off your skis. This has the added benefit of allowing for a cheaper and vastly better lunch on the more crowded Italian side. All I will say about this is that on our first day, we stopped for lunch on the Swiss Side at a self-service station and a plate of trockenfleisch and rolled up cheese that could have easily come out of a lunchables, cost a grand total of 80 Swiss Francs ($100. Yes, that’s one-hundred dollars).
For the first time since I was three years old, however, I found myself less intrigued by the skiing itself. I used to want to be the first one on the slopes in the morning and the last one back to the hotel at dusk with a speed lunch in-between. Skiing with friends out in Colorado back in high school, we even eschewed lunch altogether and settled for a few frozen Clif bars on a charilift. Nowadays, perhaps because I’m skied-out or maybe because my physical risk appetite has declined since becoming a Dad, I find myself content with half a day on the slopes, where an hour and a half is taken up sitting in the sun with Maria enjoying a nice lunch. (Yes, it’s also possible on the Swiss side of the mountain. More on that later.)
Skiing with a toddler
We skipped the last two ski seasons, knowing that someone would always have to stay back in town with Leo and there wouldn’t be much fun on offer for him on a mountain. This time, with the added reinforcement of two grandparents, an uncle and a hotel kids club, we attempted it. Now that we had all come to terms with the reality of our Olympic aspirations, this setup worked out quite nicely.
My recommendation for this would be to find a hotel that has a kids club that can support with child care. Make sure that it is well-equipped with fun toys and that they take toddlers before they turn four4. Ideally, you can also book for a time period when other families with kids are traveling to maximize entertainment.
Although it was still too early to send Leo to ski school or have him on the slopes with us, we found a very nice playground in town and rented a sled that he loved. Then, with two days left, we decided to take the leap, rent him a pair of boots and mini-skis to try a run down the bunny hill. In all likelihood, we were probably a year early, but we thought, what the hell?
In the ski shop, he passed the first test by not complaining when we fastened his ski boot and then he lit up when he got to hold his skis. Once we got up to the bunny slope, he came down between Maria’s legs, laughing and actually bending his legs. The next day we went again, this time with Maria and me on skis ourselves and holding his hand. He loved it and we were immensely proud.
You don’t have to take your two-year-old skiing, but if you want to try, do it (just be prepared that they might not want to do it)! In our case, the only regret was that we didn’t start earlier in the week but then again, with how a two-year old’s mind works, he might have hated it just because it was a Monday instead of a Thursday.
Skiing’s inherent conundrum
Skiing perhaps best represents the inherent contradictions of sustainable long-distance travel and environmental concerns. The argument that skiers are making skiing extinct has gained some traction over the past decade.
The logic, in its most simplified form, goes that vacationers flying to and from ski resorts are contributing to climate change and therefore endangering their own pastime. Not only because of the CO2 impact of their flying, but also because of the ecological impacts of ski infrastructure like artificial snow spraying.
In short, with rising temperatures there will continue to be less and less consistent snowfall, ultimately making skiing an even rarer phenomenon than it already is. It is, in fact, an eery sight to be skiing on a base of artificial snow while being flanked by brownish-green mountains and finishing the day in a village where it is warm enough for a light sweater.
While I don’t disagree with the premise of the argument, I also think there is an extra nuanced layer to it. While much is being done by mountain destinations to diversify against winter sport holidays and hedge against a warming climate by promoting entirely new ways to experience their peaks in the summer, they remain very dependent on what put them on the map in the first place.
Entire families’ livelihoods since generations have depended on it. If we were to, for example, ban the spraying of artificial snow, the shortened season would probably result in entire alpine regions shutting down because it would cost more to stay open for a few weeks than to shut up shop.
The question that remains — and which I’m not going to answer on this installment — is: how can we keep enjoying the beauty of the mountains and promote winter sport-dependent economies without further damaging the beauty itself?
GlobeFoxing’s Zermatt recommendations
Where we stayed: Resort La Ginabelle
How we got there: Drive from Milan to Täsch (3 hr) + Matterhorn train shuttle (12 min). Alternatively, the train can take you to Brig or Visp (3 hr 40 min) before switching to the shuttle.
Favorite skiing area: Glacier Paradise.
Favorite lunch spot: Marmo. Actual good food on a Swiss slope, no joke.
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This unmarked descent down Monte Rosa’s southern side, starting in Switzerland and ending in Italy, is widely considered the pinnacle of European back country skiing, but it comes at a steep price. Read more here.
Don’t be fooled: while there may be no diesel engines or large SUVs, every hotel has a little electric powered vehicle buzzing around. That, combined with the electric ski buses, make it just as trafficked as any other mountain village. Paradoxically, none of them take much interest in skirting pedestrians and there are almost no sidewalks.
Not to be confused with German efficiency, which has died a sudden death as I have highlighted in my piece about German train travel.
This remains one of the great mysteries of “family friendly” hotels: for the most part, they only start being friendly, in a supportive sense, once your child turns four. I’m sure it’s some sort of liability thing, but the Swiss, pragmatic as ever, had their cutoff at two and a half. As precise as they are made out to be, they even rounded Leo being two and five months up.
I couldn’t agree more! Luzern for me was just wonderful
Great essay Nico! I'd love to see the Matterhorn IRL. My only experience is on a Toblerone, but that one is delicious. My favorite chocolate bar.
I loved your inner influencer pose! That is sure to go viral. 🤣