We arrived at the Cambrian Hotel situated amid the pristine scenery of the Swiss Alps (blurb from their homepage) a little before check-in. The reception staff who greeted us were extremely courteous and from what I could see, totally blemish free. So too was our room, the window circled. It looked out over the Alps and to the pool below. The small balcony on the side, perfect for smokers came with an ashtray and an equally inspiring view of someone’s home-grown plants. I seem in tune with locating specific horticultural specimens, no matter where I roam. Still as an advocate of recreational use, it is a pleasant sight to see.
Note: This post is not about getting stoned, even if I do spend a great deal of my time shrouded behind a mellow veil of cosiness… Moving swiftly along…
I was eager to dip my toes in the pool so once we’d parked the car in the reasonably priced, chf15 a day covered car park, we left our luggage in the room and headed to the spa.
Despite wearing more than I would on a beach, I found it weird walking through the corridors wearing a white bathrobe. I felt bashful as if naked, like in one of those trouser-less dreams we (we?) sometimes have. Luckily the lift went straight down to the spa area, so my blushes were spared the indignity of strangers rushing to glimpse my exposed ankles.
I do look a little different from behind and see how the sun picks up the traces of Celtic red in my hair…. Oh, it’s not me. Simple mistake to make, like the facets of a cut jewel we beautiful people do tend to morph into one generic vision of complete loveliness making it difficult to tell us apart.
Meanwhile back on earth…
This publicity shot made me suspect that the outside pool would be small. I mentally prepared myself because one thing I can’t stand is disappointment and it turned out to be bigger and better. From midday to around five it was practically empty. I suppose that’s the difference between a hotel with spa facilities and a health spa. I could float around on my back, eyes closed listening to the sequence of the hot-tub features relatively undisturbed. The almost silent power jets below the surface. Ticklish feet should not be held in front of them. Then there’s the much louder rumble of bubbles that come from the metal seating. Talking over the chuckling water is too much of an exertion when chilled to a moderate temperature of around 32° Celsius, so the position of this seat makes perfect use of the epic alpine views. This is about the point at which the world stops turning. Then finally in the sequence, the hefty massage gushes that flood from huge stainless steal pipes. The practice of being hit by gallons of water per second is way too extreme a sport for me. Reminds me of almost drowning, still some people like it. The romantic in me was soften upon seeing young loved-up couples and oldies, who I’d decided have cherished each other for years. I did have a preconception of the place being full of displaying peacocks with toned bodies. I’d say, excluding myself, the general level of gorgeousness peaked at just above average. All in all the outside pool didn’t disappoint.
In the evening we ate in the restaurant downstairs. I opted for the following:
Clear beef soup / Greyerzer ravioli / vegetable stripes
A light and not too salty beef soup with big Gruyère cheese raviolis floating around with a whiskered selection of veg. Amongst those slithers I tasted celery, which is, in my opinion not much different to ear wax. Still I persevered and ate all in my bowl. By the way you do EAT soup. Oh mustn’t forget the commoner in me couldn’t resist dipping the warm buttered bread roll into my soup.
Corn fed chicken breast stuffed with scampi wrapped in zucchini /flower vegetables /saffron risotto
Moist chicken encasing scampi or scampis. Maybe scampii no it’s scampi. Regardless I definitely saw one, I wasn’t really looking because I was attempting to appear casual. Eating maggoty fish things is new to me. The new improved grown up me insists that I explore new foods. Wrapped in courgette and placed on a generous two-spoon dollop of yellow stuff, saffron risotto which may have had mushed up sweetcorn in it. Also dotted about the plate were some tiny florets of broccoli, cauliflower and that ugly looking other one. It all tasted pleasant enough and I cleared my plate.
Warm banana macadamia cake / raspberry ice cream / passion fruit
Pure delight. A cheeky banana muffin; a touch nutty and warm not unlike myself. Along with raspberry ice cream resting on a caramelised nest, a splurge of passion fruit and a lone cape gooseberry partially dressed. This sweet is well worth a return visit.
Personally I hate long blogs and this one is way over… So we wrapped up the day with a few games of pool in the small billiard room before retiring to the balcony and shortly after I slept.