A Little Life in the Alps

The weather here in Montreux has been very pleasant, reminds us of Spring at home, with a mix of some beautiful hot days, and some rain. When the rains come, the mountains across the lake disappear—you can still feel their presence, but wrapped in clouds there’s nothing but a white wall.

We’ve also learned not to trust the weather report on our phones, as the changes come fast and furious. You might start the day in rain and end it in the sunshine on the terrace at La Rouvenaz. Today started in reverse. The sun was out and shining, and from our deck it looked like a perfect day for a walk.

We had eyed up La Tour-de-Peilz, a little medieval village a few stops away, for a reconnaissance mission before making our way through Vevey and Corsier-sur-Vevey to visit a museum we thought Cedar would like. With the plan set in motion, we headed out on the train. Of course, I didn’t bring a jacket or sweater—because, you know, the sun was out. Everyone else dressed appropriately. Turns out the sun made only a brief appearance, and our lakeside walk in Tour-de-Peilz was mostly Sheila and Cedar making fun of me for the lack of appropriate clothing.

The village is very cool—like many of these small lakeside places, many of the buildings date back hundreds, if not thousands of years, with old Roman and Celtic excavations aplenty. With its quaint cobblestone streets, and frequent lakeside restaurants and food trucks dotting the promenade, you’d be forgiven for ever thinking about the massacre of the villagers by the mountain warriors of the Haut Simmental, back on June 8, 1476. That occurred here. Of course, I didn’t know that either until I googled interesting facts about La Tour-de-Peilz.

Much more interesting (and family friendly) is that it’s the home of the Swiss Games Museum, and some neat public art—including a statue of one of its famous inhabitants (well, neighbour). And no, not J.P. Morgan, who went to school here in 1856—but Charlie Chaplin.

Today’s mission involved visiting his museum up in Corsier-sur-Vevey, which is actually housed in the manor where he lived. We’ve always suspected Cedar was born with a few vaudevillian bones in his body. He’s always enjoyed clowns and especially physical comedy, and we’ve introduced him to it early on—with trips to Cirque du Soleil.

This was a bit different. And although he wasn’t familiar with Chaplin’s work, we were pretty sure Cedar and Charlie would get on well.

What we didn’t expect was that our child would also turn out to be terrified by wax mannequins—and a good portion of the museum is dedicated to the display of very frequent, very lifelike mannequins.

After a lot of explaining, posing with, poking and prodding to verify that these were indeed mannequins—statues, and different than his frame of reference (stuffed animals)—these were not stuffed humans… needless to say, the museum experience started more like a house of horrors for young Cedar. But after a bit, he turned it around and got into it—even perfecting his Charlie Chaplin walk, hat and cane in hand.

The whole experience is incredible, and exactly what you’d expect from the Swiss—who, even though he was English (then American), revered Mr. Chaplin and welcomed him to Switzerland after he was deemed a person of unsavoury character by commie-hunting McCarthyists in the U.S.

It’s interesting to read about Chaplin’s struggles in the U.S., and his response. One quote I made note of:

“Whether I re-entered that unhappy country or not was of little consequence to me. I would like to have told them that the sooner I was rid of that hate-besieged atmosphere the better, that I was fed up of America’s insults and moral pomposity.”

The more things change, the more they stay the same…

After a bit of a rocky start, we finished our trip to the museum where all good tourists finish—herded into the gift shop. Cedar picked out a magnet for our fridge back home: a picture of a silly-face Charlie with the quote:

“A day without laughter is a day wasted.”

We completely agree.