He couldn’t see the moon, but there were still street lamps lit. If he could only find a place to stay. Sleep would be nice. He could still feel the jostle and vibration of the train in his bones.
There was a figure walking quickly down the street. All the other passengers dispersed already, knowing precisely where they would be for the night.
“Excuse me?” he called. Oh, his German was rusty. French or Spanish, that he could handle. His brain churned, trying to come up with the words. “Pardón?”
The figure ignored him and breezed past without looking up. So Julian continued on his way into the city. He spotted a group carrying luggage, so he followed them to a small guesthouse, but there were no more rooms available. While the hostess was apologetic, she helped direct him to other possibilities and assured him that speaking French was acceptable there.
Julian tried the first suggestion, only to find no vacancy. The second was closed for renovation. The third had already locked their doors and refused to answer. The hour grew later and later, and the prospects seemed dimmer. Julian wasn’t sure what to do. He was tired and cold, and his pack felt heavier and heavier. But he might as well walk. It was what he was good at.
In the dark, he figured the direction he needed to go to eventually find Zermatt, and started. Soon, he found the water, Lake Zürich, and walked its shores. He spotted the moon, reflected in the water, and it gave him a light to walk by. It wasn’t unpleasant, even though he had been tired. As ever, the movement invigorated him in a way sleep could not.
He passed by a small hamlet and kept on. The path was clear and obvious, which made it easier for Julian to continue. In daylight, this must be a beautiful and tranquil place to live. And after some time, an hour or two, he began to smell sugar in the air.
It wasn’t the smell of bread or pastries, but confection. Like a moth to a flame, Julian floated until he pinpointed the building from which the heavenly smell arrived. It was chocolate. The kind of chocolate that he missed from South America. Deep and rich, roasted and dark.
The sky lightened. Julian hadn’t noticed. The train had arrived so late, and he’d spent so much time trying to find a place to sleep that he ended up walking all night. The path forked, and Julian followed the road away from the lake. A man sat on a tree stump next to a very large building, a mug steaming in one hand, a cigarette in another.
“Hallo there,” Julian called out, raising a hand. He knew this man’s tranquil solitude and didn’t wish to scare him.
The man turned, surprise clear enough, even in the dim morning light. “Grüß Gott,” he greeted, his voice jagged and rough, perhaps from sleep, perhaps from the tobacco.
“Sprechen Sie Englisch, oder Französisch oder Spanisch?” Julian hoped he wouldn’t have to rely on his German.
“Französisch und Englisch, ja,” the man said, stubbing out his cigarette and standing.
“English, please,” Julian said, wondering if his sleep-deprived brain would do well in French. “Good morning.”
“And to you also. What has you walking at this hour?”
Julian could smell the coffee wafting from the man’s mug, and he found himself suddenly hungry. “My train arrived in Zurich very late last night, and there was no place to stay, so I’ve been walking.”
“You walked from Zurich?” the man asked. “Friend, you must come in and rest. Where are you going to?” He ushered Julian to follow and led him into the building behind him.
“I need to make it to Zermatt as quickly as possible.” Julian staggered when the man opened the door and the smell of chocolate enveloped him. What was this place?
“Ah. A mountain climber, you must be. I know many.”
“Sort of. My, er, the woman I am rather fond of has plans to climb the Matterhorn. I am supposed to go with her, but I am afraid I’ll miss her departure.”
The room was spare and small. A table and four chairs dominated the space, and a small kitchen was installed on the opposite end. “Please.” The man gestured to a chair.
Julian wondered if he sat down, would he fall asleep? “Thank you.”
“I am Markus. And you?”
“Julian,” he said, feeling strange about sharing his first name and not his last. But the informality seemed to suit the strangeness of the moment.
Markus gave a curt nod in acknowledgement and poured a mug of coffee. “Here you are. I normally have two cups in the morning, but today I will share.”
Julian could weep for how hot the coffee was. It was bitter and dark and absolutely what he needed.
“So your lady will climb this Matterhorn? That is no small thing.”
“No, but she’s going to make it this time, I am positive.”
Markus nodded. “The women now. Instead of the children, they will do the climbing. Instead of the cooking, they do the working.”
Julian hadn’t thought about that before. How the world was changing once again. How sometimes women gained opportunities and then lost them. Science was moving at a rapid pace, education was expanding in all directions, so did it not make sense that people expanded too?
