The Christmas Pudding Lie

by P. B. Phillips

  Holmes answers, “Everything is in order. It’s the first snow and all. And that can only mean one thing.”

  Anna’s brain is sluggish. She will need a proper cup of coffee to reach optimum octane levels in her gray cells. She is curious and ventures a guess, “Santa’s on his way?”

  Holmes tugs at her arm, “St. Nick you mean. No, I refer to the horde of first slopers.”

  Anna replies with mild alarm, “Interlopers?”

  Holmes directs her attention, “Slopers just ahead … the long line at the ticket counter.”

  Anna looks, “Skiers! Oh I get it slopes and slopers. Is it ski season already?”

  Holmes explains, “It is. And the first snow ushers in the holiday spirit or as you noted ‘the commotion.’ I do believe that in the ancient language of the forest, Europe means winter.”

  Anna grows anxious, which is the first real sign that she is waking up. She bleats,

  “What if there are no seats left?”

  Holmes assures her, “I have our tickets already. But as you can see, today the train from Basel to Bern will sell out quickly. It’s only a few more steps. How are you holding up?”

  Anna wonders, “You have the tickets? We only decided on the trip a few hours ago!”

  Holmes smirks, “Perks of the trade … no great mystery.” He fumbles for his pass.

  A long, sleek train hisses and sputters before them. It’s clean. It’s classy. Its name, ‘The Snow Queen,’ is painted in white on red. And it is skinny. On approach Anna asks, “This is it? Why it looks like my brother’s Lionel train set. And these tracks are too skinny to carry this train!”

  Finding the first class car, Holmes shows his pass to the porter. The train attendant proceeds to educate Anna, “Swiss trains, Madame, are narrow gauge, designed to travel over gorges and glaciers.”

  He turns to Holmes, “Four seats sir?”

  Holmes answers, “Correct four, thank you, porter.”

  Anna jerks, “Four? Are you expecting company?”

  With tickets stamped, Holmes climbs aboard. Anna’s internal demons are now fully awake and begin to rattle her.

  Holmes senses her hesitation. He feels he is beginning to understand her. With a glint of the devil in his eye, he asks, “What’s this Watson, cold feet?”

  Anna’s grows peevish. Angry thoughts start to seed. She balks, “Holmes, I assure you that at this hour in the morning I’m not one for surprises.”

  Holmes extends a helping hand, “Why Anna calm yourself. No surprises. Come aboard. If the arrangements are not to your liking, we can change them.”

  Anna hesitates. Stunned by the cold, besieged by paranoia, she stalls. She scrambles to evaluate her options. It takes but two seconds for her to decide, “Deal! But only because my toes are going numb.”

  The lushness and outright comfort of their first class cabin soothes her anxious mind. Holmes speaks, “You see no strange bedfellows lurking about. I’m sorry. I should have explained. At this hour, I hate making small talk with strangers. So I buy all the seats in the cabin. People can be so chatty before six AM. You can curl up here and nap before the next stop. No one will disturb you.”

  Tucked away in the overhead compartment are warm blankets. Holmes offers a merlot wool blanket to Anna. In a quiet, calm voice he says, “Try to sleep. It will help you ward off the cold when we arrive. I’ll be in the club car to the rear.”

  Anna is embarrassed by her little tantrum. She tries to make amends, “Sorry Holmes, please stay. I promise to be quiet.”

  Holmes gets up to depart, “Rest. I’ll call on you when we approach Bern. It’s a short hour, I assure you. I leave you.”

  Anna arranges the blanket and answers, “Thanks Holmes.”

  As the train lurches forward in a burst of combustion, Anna scuttles to the window to catch a peek at Basel. A long block of attached townhouses lines the track. The dwellings vary in style from the ultra modern all glass enclosures flooded in white light to the more traditional somber stone and timber façades. The train gets the green light from the signal tower.

  Anna bolts to attention with the familiar knock of Holmes at the cabin door. She yawns and asks, “Bern I presume?”

  Eager to see the Alps up close and personal, she tugs at the window shade. Holmes enters and sits on the bench opposite her. With a note of small regret he announces, “You’ll have to wait a bit longer. It’s just going on 6:30. In the holiday season, the sun sleeps in.”

  Anna’s lips pout. Downright dejected she says, “Oh, I was so hoping to see Switzerland sunny side up.”

  She throws the cover off and searches her bag for scarf and dark glasses. Holmes busies himself folding the blanket and returning it to its overhead compartment. He looks at her ‘secret agent’ persona. He is about to comment when he thinks that it is best just to move on. He needs to reach Uncle Vanya’s with Anna in tow.

  Instead, he offers, “Hungry? I know a wonderful little spot, a short taxi ride that caters to early risers.”

  Anna, beginning to reap the rewards of sleep and feeling human again, teases, “If memory serves me right, German breakfast is greasy bratwurst soaked in stale beer.”

  Holmes merely raises his eyebrows and helps her off the train. Anna stops short as she reaches the station platform. The city of Bern is ready for the holidays. Strands upon strands of blue lights adorn the station. There are large black bears dressed as hip-hop snow boarders. Polar bears, bigger than life, skate gracefully on thin ice. Brown bears build a snowman that looks strangely like a grizzly bear. There are bears dressed in stocking caps with wool mufflers pretending to ski the Matterhorn. There is also an animated four-piece musical bear ensemble dressed in nineteenth century velvets and furs playing classical music.

  Anna caught up in the intended spirit of wonder asks, “What’s with all the bears?”

  Holmes delights in Anna’s enjoyment and surprise. He explains, “Bern is German for bear. I think that they are playing a Hans Hubert piece, one of our more popular composers.”

  Anna wants to stop at every display but Holmes is intent on getting a taxi. He steps lively. Anna grabs hold of his jacket and tries to take in as much of the holiday festival before her. She is completely captured by the advent of the holiday season, “Holmes, I love Christmas.”

  Holmes gently takes the hand that tugs at his jacket. He slows his pace so she can walk beside him. He replies, “Then you will fall in love with Switzerland. Christmas comes early in these parts and stays late. With the harvest in, the locals embrace the coming of Christmas. As we talked earlier, in the north, Christmas begins on December 6, the feast of St Nicholas. The official holiday season runs into the feast of the Epiphany. But the whole of winter and a good part of spring is holiday season. Comes the snow comes the fun.”

  Outside the station, Holmes hails a taxi. Anna exclaims in large puffs of frosty breath, “This is more than cold. It is Ri-Col-a!”

  Holmes opens the taxi door, “Watson, you know Ric?”

  They laugh. Anna adds, “Oh Holmes I was afraid my humor was passing you by.”

  The café is but a few blocks away. Getting out of the taxi, she exclaims, “We could have walked here!”

  Holmes pays the man. He rushes Anna inside the café’s door. “True… but for the chill…”

  The Gaststube, the name of the restaurant, is little more than a whole in the wall. The vinyl floor is covered in sawdust. There are but three tables made of thick rough-cut pine. The owner greets them with a tray topped with two tankards and a large stein. Holmes thanks the waiter and orders breakfast. He then fills the two tankards with hot cider. The owner returns promptly with two giant pretzels filled with Brie. Needless to say, Anna is greatly relieved to see something that she can actually relish. She notes in silence her own contentment. She finds no need to make small talk. She muses silently, ‘Is it the hour, or the cold, but could we be comfortable in each other’s company in so short a time?’

  Whatever, the two enjoy th
e calm before the yawn of dawn.

  Back at the station in plenty of time, Holmes and Anna peruse the illuminated platform directory. Beguiled Anna asks, “Holmes is this for real, the Heidi Express, the Glacier Express, a Wilhelm Tell Line even a Chocolate Train?”

  Holmes smiles as he confirms their platform. He points out, “And don’t forget the Romance Train. We are on the Blue train to Lausanne.”

  There is no missing the train for every car is oyster blue with quaint village scenes.

  To her continued surprise, Holmes reserved a compartment for the two of them. The train pulls forward without a word from either. As the lights of the city dissolve into the night, Anna scours the night for the first light. Turning away from the empty night, she looks sadly at Holmes. He looks at his watch and then into her warm molasses eyes.

  “If light follows darkness as it has for the last twelve billion years, the sun shall rise in about a half hour.”

  On that note, Anna decides to relax some. She inquires, “Is this a land of darkness in winter?”

  Holmes answers quickly, “Not at all! It’s the snow you see. Light refracts off the snow providing light in the dark. Even in dense snowstorms, light breaks on the snowflakes. Switzerland enjoys about eight hours of light in the winter.”

  Holmes takes up the seat next to Anna. She scurries closer to the window allowing some space between them. She turns her body, so as to look at him, “So is it true that Switzerland is the reserve of royalty and riches?”

  Holmes smiles and asks, “What have you heard?”

  Anna admits, “Very little really. Let’s see. The many things Swiss I know; army knives, clocks, Nestles, Tobler and IKEA, and of course, Heidi and the moribund Mr. Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain.”

  Holmes pretends to clear his throat in preparation for a profound oratory. He offers a few of his pearls of knowledge on the matter of the Swiss.

  “Switzerland is a place that stays unto itself, no doubt due in part to its natural barriers, the Alps. In earlier times, it was the well-kept reserve of the rich and chic. And the 007 portraits of players romping about snow-covered gorges are real enough.

  But the real mystic of Switzerland is that there is no one Switzerland, no Swiss people hence no nation as such. It is, after all, a confederation of independent duchies.

  Her lesser known glories are maybe her best. The forests of Switzerland, for example, are as enchanting as the snowy slopes. The Swiss revere the tree. They love their spruce, white beech, silver fir, chestnut, maple, larch and stone pine forests. Early legends of this land talk of the creation of man and woman from the ash and alder tree. To the Swiss, the evergreen is the tree of life, the linden tree is dedicated to Mary and the Oak tree embodies the soul of the God of War.”

  Anna gets more comfortable. She bends her legs and rests her head upon her knees. Holmes is pleased that she has settled in. He continues, “Of course the most celebrated secrets of the Swiss are hidden in the Alps. They say that before humanity was a glimmer in the divine’s eye, the Alps rocked. The Alps are the very backbone, the spine of Europe. The Alps, large and in charge, fashioned the Swiss spirit of sobriety and staunch industry.

  And they go on and on, over 700 miles through France, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia and Albania. They reach up over 15,000 feet into the heavens at Mont Blanc.

  If there is an element of reserve to the Swiss, I believe it is born of humility and awe as they witness and live the fullness of nature’s drama. And as far as being insular, Switzerland gave us the World Wide Web. So does that put some light on your picture of Switzerland?”

  Anna claps her hand softly and says, “Indeed, I am impressed.”

  Holmes glad that he meets her approval blushes, “Not at all, just bits and pieces, tricks of the trade.”

  He diverts attention away from himself, “If you look east, you can just make out the horizon. Those looming shapes will be your first sight of the Vaud Alps.”

  Anna eagerly searches for the crack in the black. And finally, in silence, the night bows to greet a new day. In perfect stillness, the two watch the light grow from gray to pale pink to radiant rose. And with no need for introduction, in the distance, the Alps call to her. She asks, “Will we get close to the mountains?”

  Holmes answers, “They are never far away. However, the big attraction in Lausanne is Lake Geneva.”

  Anna sees that Holmes readies to leave. She follows his lead and gathers up her things. She wants to ask, ’Are we there yet?’ but contains her childish enthusiasm. Instead she enjoys the warm glow of the spirit of adventure.

  Returning home, Holmes excitement waxes. “You can see the lights of Lausanne just ahead!”

  The train begins to slow down as it approaches the city. Holmes asks Anna, “Can you make out any of the city’s landscape?”

  Anna whose long-range vision has always been a blessing answers cautiously, “Only mist and hillside. Oh is that a tower I see?”

  Holmes replies, “That, dear Watson is the cathedral’s steeple. Lausanne is home to the largest cathedral in Switzerland built in the thirteenth century.”

  Holmes surveys the depot. The sight today does cause his lips to curl. He approves. The passengers on the Blue Train step into a sea of presents. The Grand Concourse spills over with boxes in every size and shape dressed in festive papers and fancy ribbons. Decorated evergreen wreaths and trees anoint the station with the scent of fresh pine.

  Anna‘s delight cannot be contained. She is busting with excitement, “Holmes, have you ever seen so many presents. Does Lausanne celebrate Boxing Day?”

  Before Holmes can answer, Anna rambles, “I get it! Lausanne’s theme must be The Season of Giving!”

  Holmes laughs, “I say yes that and surprises.”

  The crowd is bouncy and boisterous. Holmes weaves through the throng of people and the holiday displays. The warmth of the train and the mob wears thin as they make their way into the open air. A mist hangs like a wooly halo on the hillside.

  Anna shivers, “It feels like snow.”

  Holmes makes his way to the line of taxis, “It better snow that’s what fills the coffers.”

  He scurries Anna into a warm waiting black Mariah and directs the driver, “Chemin du Penlope, s’il vous plait.”

  He sits back in his seat. Anna on the other hand is wide eyed as a child in a penny candy store. Beguiled by the landscape, she notes, “Switzerland is not at all what I expected.”

  Holmes’ looks puzzled. She expands, “Basel and Bern and now Lausanne have an urban, industrial landscape. I was expecting…“

  Holmes interrupts, “Heidi?”

  Anna loathes admitting to such a romantic vision, “A Swiss Chalet at least…”

  Holmes explains, “Many old town centers were torn down after the war. A utilitarian blueprint replaced old world charm. Like most European centers, Lausanne is a working city. It is home not only to the Olympic committee but also boasts a bustling university community. Look yonder.”

  He directs her to the eastern hillside. “Lausanne is the second largest wine growing area in Switzerland. And its grape is highly prized.”

  Anna is surprised, “Swiss wine, really!”

  Holmes continues, “For romantic Switzerland, you best visit Cathedral Square. It has been restored to its old world scale. And by way of travel trivia, the organ in the great old cathedral was made in America.

  And my final bit of trivia, I promise. One tradition survives from the middle ages, the town crier. Every night, he calls out to whoever is about. ‘I am the watchman. I am the watchman. We just had ten o’clock.’”

  Anna replies, “Get out, there is no such thing.”

  Holmes laughs and in his Marlowe voice answers, “I kid you not.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Leaving the city behind, they come upon a thick dense, dark green forest. Anna grows anxious with the approach, “Uncle Vanya lives in the forest?”

  The driver a
nswers her, “Viola, Le Bois de la Chanaula.”

  Through the cover of thick pine, the Mariah turns off the main road and ascends a small gravel road. As they climb, the trees thin out considerably. About a hundred feet on a plateau above them looms a stark white limestone structure divided into three twenty foot wide segments. The center panel is made of glass, top to bottom. Within this space, suspended from the ceiling, Anna sees a chandelier composed of three oversized hanging brushed cooper cones. The light within resembles that of a hanging hearth.

  To the right of center, another glass panel runs half way up from the floor. Therein, a single brushed copper cone appears to be hanging in mid-air. Left of center, the translucent wall runs half way down from the roofline. There is an understated exuberance where the glass panels meet to form the forty-foot expansion of light. The drama of the simple mix of glass and limestone carries through to the rear of the house. The transparent design allows Nature in.

  Anna marvels, “Is this a home? It looks like an ice sculpture. Is this…?”

  Before she can complete her thought, Holmes solves a piece of the growing mystery,

  “Yes, Watson, this is Uncle Vanya’s.”

  Anna exclaims, “Wow!”

  She is awe struck by the juxtaposition of this marvelous futuristic ice palace and the craggy petrified-forest. Her eyes catch movement within. The large glass door in the center panel opens. A petite creature dressed in warm mocha and browns calls forth,

  “Shalom Rebbe! Mah Shlomcha?”

  Holmes returns the greeting, “Shalom, Mamash Tov! Very well and how are you? Mah Shlomech?”

  The frail butterfly of a creature replies, “Baruch Hashem! Fine!

  Anna stops short and just stares. She can’t take her eyes off the stranger embracing Holmes. A million questions clamor for answers. Without warning she grows dizzy and faint. She finds it difficult to catch a breath. In a flash her mind recalls the thinness of air in high places, something she learned the hard way when living at eight thousand feet on the outskirts of Nairobi. Seeing the color drain from Anna’s face, Holmes invites her to sit with her head lowered to facilitate the flow of oxygen to the brain.