The monks, the Jungfrau, and the mystery trip

This past weekend we were told to pack a bag and show up at the train station at 7:50 Saturday morning. On our packing list was hiking boots, a towel, and clothing for temperatures from -3 to 30 degrees Celsius (26 to 86 degrees Fahrenheit). The mystery trip was organized by the owner of the company where Scott works. Trips to the unknown have been biannual requirements for the employees for several years, but this is the first one where spouses were also invited along.

We were slightly disappointed to find out that the mystery destination was the Jungfrau, one of the highest peaks in Switzerland, only because we had been there before. Surprisingly, most of our traveling companions (who are almost all Swiss) had not. Apparently the Swiss think themselves too sophisticated for the ‘Top of Europe’, dismissing it as a destination for silly foreign tourists (like us).

When we changed trains in Interlaken, our group was joined by a Buddhist monk who was good friends with the organizer of our trip. The monk had a small entourage of monks, nuns, and monks-in-training with him, many of whom were on this trip to find out how they do in high altitude environments. They are planning to climb a holy mountain in Tibet later this year. Their group included a 6-year-old boy dressed in a monk’s robe, with a waist-length braid of hair sprouting from the top of his otherwise shaved head. I was fascinated.

We switched trains a couple more times before arriving at Jungfraujoch, at 3500 meters, billed as the highest point in Europe reachable by train. From there we had sweeping views out over the glacier and the snowy Alps. We had lunch and then wandered through the Ice Palace and up to the Sphinx observation deck for more sweeping views of snowy Alps and glaciers.

I was fine with the altitude (while many of the Swiss and some of the monks complained of dizziness as soon as we arrived at the top). Fine, that is, until we started the uphill hike through the sand-like snow. In those types of situations, my body likes to have oxygen. Although the hike lasted for less than an hour, I felt like I had been walking all day by the time we reached our destination, a small hut decked out with some sweet snacks and beverages for our group. The return (downhill) hike was a piece of cake.

We then took the train down to Kleine Scheidegg, a small skiing outpost that consisted of a couple hotels and a handful of bars. We spent the late afternoon watching a World Cup game in the bar, and then had dinner with the group. Scott and I snagged seats at the monks’ table, as we were curious to learn more about them.

We spent most of the meal chatting with a young monk-in-training from Massachusetts. After learning a little bit about his life at the pagoda and what brought him there, I got to my real question: what’s up with the little kid monk? The answer was not disappointing. Turns out, he is the reincarnation of a monk. How do they know that? One, the master can recognize him. Two, before the old monk’s death, he had gone to a certain woman and asked her to be his mother. So when this woman bore a son, she immediately brought him to the pagoda and put him in the care of the head monk (as had been pre-arranged). And there you have it.

After dinner we caught the second half of the Italy – US game and then fell into bed exhausted. The next day we enjoyed another scenic hike (at an altitude where the air still contained oxygen in reasonable quantities), had lunch, and then headed back to Zurich. All in all, a very enjoyable mystery trip. I hope spouses will be invited along for the next one, too.