I had this really weird dream. I woke up in a sweat and it took a moment to shake off the horror. In my dream, there was traffic and freeways and shopping centers. All the homes were identical and they were filled with people who wore sparkling jewelry and attended parties so that they could say they were there. Sometimes, oddly, people shot each other for no reason. And it never rained.The dream seemed to last forever.
I sat up in bed and said a quick prayer. Thank you, God, that I am in Switzerland, where I can rise from my nightmare, pull on my shorts and ride into a countryside that you have waved into existence especially for people who ride bikes and walk and sometimes just sit stunned by the beauty.
So that's what I did. I pulled on my shorts and I rode my bicycle in Switzerland.
I picked up speed down a hill towards the lake - like I always did before the nightmare - curved through little towns and burst into the unseasonably bright and warm November sunshine along the flat straightaway towards Rapperswil.
I cruised along the lakeside, picking up speed as I left the city, the lake on my right, sparkling on a sunny mid-afternoon that felt like springtime instead of late fall. At Stafa, I hooked left into the hillsides and climbed and climbed until I had to stop for the cows that were crossing the road. When they were past, I realized, happily, that I was lost. I pedaled for miles through hills and towns I didn't recognize. The lake, my only landmark, was far below. I just rode, feeling my way, eventually bombing back down to the shore, curving towards Zurich and, finally, recognizing the street names until I could find my way.
A 40-mile ride in early November in Switzerland. The nightmare is over.
