The train ride itself was fairly uneventful. We were worried about the eight minute layover, and while our first train was indeed delayed by twenty minutes, our connecting train was delayed by forty minutes. Our connecting train ended up stopping in Basel rather than Interlaken because the Swiss do not like belated trains. Instead of having the train be late, they just canceled the train. But, we managed to catch another train and made it to Interlaken safe and sound. The train ride was pretty beautiful. We passed by water that was impossibly blue and large lakes that seemed to stretch into the horizon. The clouds billowed across the sky, and little bit of blue shone within the cracks. It was astounding.
When we arrived in the town, it was raining in a sort of miserable way. We made the trek to the hostel only to be told that we had to walk longer to the tent village. Dragging our suitcases behind us like large sacks of flour, we somehow stumbled to what was our home for those three days.
The tent village was a collection of small tents with a large meeting tent. The specific tent we received had six beds in them. Four of them belonged to us, and the other two belonged to an Englishman named Rick and an Australian named Chris who sleeps like the dead. The bathrooms were all coed and smelled slightly. This was not like the luxurious apartments that we had become accustomed to.
We went out for a diner of enormous kebabs and falafels, and then eventually settled in our beds and went to sleep.
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