“Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” So says Dorothy. “Folks, we’re not in France anymore.” So says Curt.

I’m not walking far, maybe 3-4 miles. I enter the last French village. “Wait a minute, that hiker with the guitar is going back to Canterbury!” I see the last French bench. I visit the last French church. I pause at the last French war memorial. I admire the last French wayside cross.

I spy the three Canadian women. With uncanny eyes for locating a bench in the shade, they are comfortably resting. I join them. We are excited. We are laughing. Before she walks ahead of us, Elaine says “France has been great, but it has been almost a1000 kilometers! I’m ready to enter Switzerland!”

Joan, Audrey, and I finally leave the bench. Walking down a common gravel road shaded by trees, we spot Elaine with her pack off. Joan exclaims “I think this is it!” Of course, “it” refers to the border crossing. She’s right. A stone marker.

Okay, rather cute, but we all had to have our photo taken with one foot in France and one foot in Switzerland.

The Via Francigena is simply an opening between a shed and a wood fence. For a flash, I’m back in Sigeric’s period. In the 900’s there would have been few, if any, markers that a person was passing through different political territories. Back in today’s world, we do get such a marker. One doesn’t have to know French to understand that the sign warns the traveler about what one should not bring into Switzerland.

We are puzzled. Where are the border guards? Where do we show our passports? Where do i declare that I’m entering with two apples, an orange, and a cheese sandwich? Where do I sign the form declaring my departure date? No where. So much for these two modern nation-states protecting their borders!

The one-liners fly. “We’ll, the grass is greener in Switzerland.” “Feel that breeze. Definitely cooler in Switzerland.”But, where’s the welcoming band?”

With excitement, we enter Switzerland. “Look how neatly they stack the firewood.” “Over here, look at the trolls greeting us.” “Look our first Porsches, McClarens, and Ferraris.” “Look, even the cows are welcoming us.”

Of course, we have to take of the first sculpture, with us in the foreground. We have no idea why there is a donkey statue!

The other highlight of the day is walking in the River Orbe gorge. Think of a stream or river walk in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. Delightful. Cooley refreshing. It’s middle of the afternoon. We all are watching the storm clouds build. Since the women are staying in a different town than Orbe, we say our good-byes. One never knows when one will see a fellow hiker again.

I climb out of the gorge and make it to an entrance ramp for the highway to Orbe. Quickly I put on my poncho; however, I simply have to stop and wait out the heavy rain. The poncho helps, except for the small and random pieces of hail. A hundred feet away, I see a couple standing in the rain. When I see a bus stop and pullover in front of them, I do the 100 feet sprint, not my best track and field performance with my pack on my back. Knowing that if I run in the road blocking the bus from using it’s pullout lane, I make it to the bus and hop on. In my best French, I ask “Orbe?” “Oui.” I pull out a five Euro note. The bus driver shakes her head. I pull out a ten Swiss Francs note. She shakes her head again. In perfect English she says “Credit card.” I hand her my Visa. Twice the handheld credit card machine refuses to accept my card for 3.4 Swiss franc’s. I have a sinking feeling. The first test in Switzerland: Swiss rule-obeying justice or Swiss compassion? She waves me to a seat. thank you!

The bus route ends at Orbe’s bus station. I’m only 200 meter from my hotel! I start walking. I should be there in three minutes.

Wait. What do I hear? What do I see? Traditional Swiss music. A dozen or more costumed dancers dancing a traditional Swiss dance! Right in front of my hotel!

Welcome to Switzerland Curt