4. Thunder in the Mountains

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  Vaduz, Liechtenstein
Wednesday, June 17, 1981

The Principality of Liechenstein is a tiny countryette, squeezed into the mountains between Switzerland and Austria (and Germany).  We stayed in a charming chalet, one storey high at the back and three storeys at the front.   It was owned by a couple who lived further down the mountain and I remember my parents stopping in to see them part way through the holiday.
"Alle ist gut?", they asked my parents
"Ja, ja". they replied "Alle ist wunderbar"
Later I had to ask - "who is this Alice?"
The road up to the chalet was a series of vertiginous hairpin bends, which insured me to any kind of fear of heights.  As a result, the first thng I want to do in any new place is find the highest thing to climb up and take in the view.
Below our chalet were fields of ..erm, some kind of crop, which was being gathered in by a couple in traditional dress.  They seemed quite old to me, so they were probably about 40!  My brothers and I helped them gather up the [crop] after it had been cut.  They were using hand held tools - pitch forks and stuff.  You'd think it was a different cetury.  Mind you, it is now.
There was a Swiss faimily in the chalet behind us and I kept up a correspondence with the oldest girl, Pia, for a few years, until  I stopped learning German at school and couldn't get my teacher to translate my letters any more...
The holiday was also memorable as it was the first time that we had ever seen duvets - or as we called them then, 'continental quilts'! My brothers and I thought that they were fantastic (I'm having a flashback about how much I hated making a bed with sheets, blankets and an eiderdown) and were very excited when we got some of our own when we got back to Blighty.  Sadly of course, the early 80s English version was synthetic and almost stiff enough to stand up on one end....
Considering that we spent a fortnight there, my memories are somewhat shaky - but then it has been 26 years (ouch).  I'll interrogate my brothers when I next speak to them and see what they remember.
We drove back home via the Black Forest (Germany) and my mother was particularly disgusted when I barely stopped reading for the entire journey.  I don't blame her - I'm pretty disgusted with me now - what a waste!  As a result, I won't count that drive through as a trip to Germany, making my first proper visit there mighty overdue, some 20odd years later.

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