It has been one of those weeks where “that book” that I’ve been working on for a rather long time has been tugging at my shirt tails, demanding attention. It all started when I boarded a sparkly new Stadler MOB Goldenpass Express carriage at Zweisimmen on Thursday morning and was transported into the little bubble that is Gstaad-Saanen. As we wound our way down into the valley, passed the busy farmers raking grasses along steep slopes and watched a Pilatus PC-12 make its steep approach to the tiny airport, I was back in the pages of my book – last touched sometime back in January.
With an alpine setting, it’s always useful to pay attention to what’s happening outside the rail carriage, inside the hotel lobby and around the pool to inform what might one day end up in the chapter of my future bestseller. After check-in and lunch with friends at Gstaad Palace, it was time to take up my position on the lounger and observe, analyse and record what was unfolding around me. If you’re not familiar with the pool at the Palace, it’s part hotel amenity, part community centre, and a sunny social hub for everyone in the valley. With Olympic proportions, it has a five-metre diving tower at one end, a restaurant and bar at the other. Alongside it there are white plastic loungers, cabanas, patches of lawn, a trampoline and enough mature trees for ample shade. As for the crowd, they’re hotel guests, residents of the nearby chalets and locals from elsewhere up and down the valley.
Much of the activity is around the diving boards as children, dads, show-offs and semi-professionals scamper up the ladders to position themselves for various performances off the regular, three- and five-metre boards. There’s a lifeguard on duty but you don’t see much of him as he’s also in charge of towel distribution and keeping a sense of order in other corners of his domain. At one point there are at least 10 kids on top of the tower. The lifeguard walks over to tell them that it might be a good idea to not have such a big crowd on the platform and that they should space out jumps and dives so that they don’t land on each other.
Aside from that, it’s a wonderful free-for-all that I could watch all afternoon. The parents are all knocking back spritzes and rosé, and no one is very concerned that kids are trying their first backflips and groups of five-year-olds are running and jumping from the highest board. This is where the Swiss deserve an honorary gold medal for encouraging self-responsibility rather than legislating to prevent fun or attempting to cancel out any form of risk.
When the diving tower becomes too busy for the more seasoned 16-year olds, they move over to the ping-pong table in small groups and obediently respect the time limit, allowing others to have a go at serving up their best top spin.
“Where are you from?” asks a lanky boy in mint Fedeli shorts to a kid standing alongside the fence.
“I’m from Portugal,” replies the boy in faded pink trunks. “What about you?”
“I’m from Geneva,” says the young man in mint. “Hey, you guys aren’t doing very well in the Olympics, are you? I thought Portugal would be much better in more sports.”
“No one is really from Geneva,” says the Portuguese, rapidly changing the subject. “Where are you really from?”
“It’s a complicated question,” says the young Genevois. “I’m Perisan but grew up in the US and France, and now live here in Switzerland. Are you ready for Persia to smash Portugal?”
As the boys pick up the paddle to do battle, a group of college-age girls arrive for a late-afternoon swim and tanning session. As they dart back and forth from the changing rooms, I note that there’s almost a total absence of ink on skin. Odd for this age group, no?
The sun starts to dip and there’s a little rush at the bar for more cocktails. A group of ladies are still playing cards; they’ve been at it since lunch. Another Pilatus is making its approach to Saanen Airport over the hotel. The breeze is picking up and, suddenly, there’s the high-summer scent of the Swiss Alps – chamomile, cow poop and a bit of coniferous forest. It’s time for one more cooling dip and then up to the room to dress for dinner. The Gstaad season runs for another month or so. Try it if you can.
If not, the Monocle crew looks forward to seeing you on the other side of the Alps in St Moritz from Friday. See you for drinks on the village square from 19.00 local time.