Christmas in High Places

The way the blizzard was howling outside the window of our Austrian hideaway the night before, the calm on Christmas was a bit surreal. There was not so much as a whisper of wind, and the sky was a deep cloudless blue, hawks grazing the treetops on a day so quiet we could hear the flutter of their wings.
After a breakfast fit for a team of lumberjacks, we strapped on snowshoes and made our way up the mountainside, sinking into ankle-deep powder at times, poling the snow to make sure that we didn't step into a hidden cave.
There was drama, to be sure, when I stopped on a high point to take in the sweeping view of the mountains and T, eager to keep moving, began the walk back. I'm right behind you, I told her, and don't get lost. She promptly walked past the turnoff for the trail and the last I saw was her black coat disappearing around a distant curve in the mountain. I shouted, but she didn't hear, so I made my way back down the trail, figuring I would signal her from the lower slope and point her back to the turn.
Meanwhile, to hear her account, things quickly turned ugly. Stopped by a wall of snow after her slog in the wrong direction, she began to consider survival strategies, briefly considering gnawing her arm off until she realized she was beside a farm with a cow that she could slaughter if things got truly desperate.
Luckily, she looked down to see me waving my poles, and retraced her steps to the turn. She arrived with both arms intact, but I noticed a small patch missing from a corner of her hat.
We managed a turn in the gym in late afternoon. While T paced the treadmill, I spun the Bike to Nowhere, the view of the snowy peaks and a tiny distant church on the mountainside to keep us occupied. It was a long, long way from the Dallas suburbs.
There was time for the sauna before dinner, and if you're not careful in a place like this, you will find that your appetite can suffer some serious hurt. Let's just say there are people who should keep their clothes on at all times, particularly during pre-dinner hours. It's not the way you want to see the people who will dine a few tables away from you later in the evening. And, really, how safe is a sauna for a woman eight months pregnant and the old codger in the corner who's liable to keel over from a heart attack if the naked supermodel he's waiting to ogle actually shows up?
That night, we left open the curtains along the 15-foot wall of glass that faced our bed, and watched the night sky become a dome of diamonds, the little dipper among a scattering of Christmas jewels.
The next morning there was a jolt of back-home reality, a report on German TV about the murder of seven people in our old neighborhood back in Texas. We've been gone just a couple of weeks, but it seems like a very long time ago.
Another day of snowshoeing, some hiking and a few glasses of Christmas wine, and, suddenly, we are back in Zurich. We walked along Bahnhofstrasse on the way home, and felt the thriving spirit of the city in the post-Christmas shopping crowds.
At home on Kurfirstenstrasse, we found ourselves a little antsy in the early evening. No blanket of stars tonight, but a last glass of Christmas wine sounded like a fine idea.