Interlaken and the Harder Potschete festival, Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald

Lucerne was amazing, but in a country this size, we can't sit still for long, so we're heading for Interlaken today!

We ate breakfast at our fantastic hotel (expensive, but totally worth it!), with the most luscious eggs imaginable - you could taste the butter in every little ounce. I fumbled an entire loaf of bread on the floor - so embarrassing - and we ate our weight in bircher muesli. Invented by a Swiss doctor, these rolled oats are soaked overnight and are added to lemon juice, condensed milk, grated apples and grated nuts. It's amazing.

Before checking out, we ran across the river to visit the cathedral opposite our room, Jesuitenkirche, which was very quiet and very empty. It was very tastefully done with incredible molding and rose colored marble. I've noticed here when you enter certain buildings, there are heavy curtains just inside the door, probably to keep out cold air and noise, but it does initially hit you that maybe you've not gone in the right place, so that caused some hesitation.

Loaded down once again with bags, we made our way to the train station via Altstadt for one last view in the daylight of the beautiful facades on the buildings (some of which have been preserved since the middle ages), and found our way to the Town Hall Clock (Rathaus Stadt Luzern), built in 1606, an incredible clock tower that is an icon in the city.

We hopped on our train to Interlaken, slightly frustrated that we didn't have an extra 30 minutes to explore some more. The views once again were lovely and never-ending, with quaint Swiss chalets dotting the country side with their traditional dark wood and green shutters. We spotted a few sheep, several smaller lakes, and my favorite - churches with giant clock towers. Once in Interlaken Ost (East), we caught a bus to the west side and checked into our new hotel, Hotel Beausite.

We were in a hurry to catch what we came here for - the annual January 2 festival of Harder Potschete! Every year on this day, the town is haunted by the masked figures of the Hardermann, his wife and his band of followers, the Potschen. Adults and children dress in colorful costumes and masks, growling at onlookers and swiping them with pine boughs and strips of cloth and leather (beats the pig bladders they used to blow up and hit people with!). There's live music, groups that hand out hot chicken broth, and plenty of people lining the streets. The characters are separated throughout the parade by groups of men in traditional uniforms ringing giant cowbells in unison. The parade concludes with Glühwein, usually prepared from red wine, heated and spiced with cinnamon sticks, cloves, star aniseed, citrus, and sugar, and unsweetened cider (they really love their apples in this country!).

With the festival winding down, we hopped on a train bound for Lauterbrunnen to see Trümmelbach Falls. We missed the bus by 30 seconds out to the falls, so we stopped inside a little cafe for a slice of cake and the best milk ever! From this snack on, we had milk in massive quantities every chance I got. The one downside to being as flexible as we are is that sometimes we don't look ahead, and the falls are closed in January. We weren't the only ones who made that mistake, finding two Americans from Texas also pondering this setback. They traveled back to town with us and caught the train to have dinner with us in nearby Grindelwald.

We wandered through Grindelwald to shop, stopping for drinks at a few little outdoor bars where glühwein flowed, and chocolates at Swiss Chocolate Chalet. We glanced at Cuckoo clocks, cow bells, Swiss army knives and knitted items with Swiss flags. It started snowing, so we ducked inside a restaurant we could all agree on (basically, one that had cheese fondue, because I'm a food snob) called Bebbis.

I upgraded my cheese fondue to include vegetables, so I'd feel slightly better about the fact that my dinner was cheese and bread, the exact same thing I've chosen to eat every other meal I've had. I nearly burned myself when the pot, called a caquelon tipped and I tried to right it with my bare hands.Derek chose to try the Raclette, but it was poorly made - this traditional Swiss dish of jacket potatoes and melted cheese is obviously fabulous, so I blame the restaurant. We had a wonderful time with our new friends, who told us about their trip coming from Gstaad, a super expensive, posh part of the country with Ice Hotels (better in theory than reality, they claim).

We wandered in the snow back to the train station, stopping momentarily to have someone take our picture (it was hysterical - she informed us beforehand that it might not be very good as she'd just finished her fourth beer - good on you, sister!). It turned out beautifully...I should always ask inebriated women to take photos.