Thursday Afternoon: Luzern
After leaving Selina’s—a stay that was restful, inspiring, and clarifying—I boarded the first of three trains to Luzern, Switzerland, full of excitement. There is nothing like seeing your child in person after so long.
Luzern welcomed me with a spotless bus station, perfect weather, and an unexpectedly large number of tourists. Selina had warned me the city had become very touristy, and the crowds were even greater than I expected.
Rather than wait for Jack to navigate the throng, I walked two kilometers with my luggage to a parking lot where he could meet me more easily. The tree-lined promenade along Lake Luzern was so beautiful I stopped to call the boys at home and share the view.
Despite the crowds, the afternoon was lovely. Jack arrived within ten minutes. Soft golden light filtered from an amethyst sky, and the autumn leaves and pale buildings reflected its glow.
Jack and I grabbed the biggest sandwiches we could find from a doner kebab stand and ate them on the steps by the lake. We wandered across the old bridges and climbed hills to escape the crowds. An hour after dark, as heavy afternoon clouds finally opened to rain, we made our way back to the car.
The Airbnb in Unterterzen
In Europe you can rent a car at 19, and Jack—like John—loves to drive. Having a car let us stay in a smaller, quieter town away from tourist-packed hotels. I found our Airbnb only a week before arrival and it turned out to be perfect.
We arrived after dark in the rain and spent about thirty minutes finding the right building, which was both funny and frustrating. The next morning we woke to an incredible view—on John’s 50th birthday. I felt a mix of gratitude and guilt sending him photos while he stayed home caring for the younger kids, but friends and family made his day special and helped me be at ease while away.
Friday: St. Gallen
Selina suggested St. Gallen as a quieter alternative to Luzern. When Jack and I saw images of the Abbey Library, we knew we had to go.
St. Gallen felt like the city of my dreams—rich in history, full of beauty, and pleasantly uncrowded.
We visited the tourist center and bought a self-guided audio tour. Medieval facades, a museum of treasures, a dim, secret library of ancient books, and cathedrals filled with light kept us lingering for hours, suspended between past and present.
We intended to squeeze in a short hike, but when Jack couldn’t find his phone we retraced our steps looking for it. That detour turned into a tougher climb than planned as we raced the sunset up half a mile of steep stairs. I was out of breath but kept going—sunset was closing fast.
We reached the top just in time. I had shed my coat and scarf along the way and finally removed a sweat-soaked sweater to take photos. We messaged John to share the moment and the sound of cowbells ringing in the distance.
We descended along switchback roads, catching new views of lit cathedrals at every turn. On the way back we stopped at a lively festival and found the food trucks unexpectedly excellent—empanadas for lunch, gyros for dinner—and we ended the night with another video call to John on his 50th birthday.
Saturday: Weesen to Quentin
We chose Unterterzen because an Airbnb was available at the last minute and it was within driving distance of our planned day trips. Locals and fellow travelers praised the area as postcard-perfect and encouraged exploring it rather than treating it only as a base.
I found a hike that hugged the northern shore of the lake, passing a 2,000-year-old Roman tower, a historic chapel, and Switzerland’s second tallest waterfall, ending in Quentin—a tiny, special village accessible only by foot or boat.
We planned a 10 km trek over four hours, but it became about 14 km and closer to five and a half hours because we lingered at each stop: admiring the tower, resting in the chapel warmed by streaming light, and scrambling through muddy paths to reach the waterfall. It was challenging but worth every moment.
Quentin was every bit as picturesque as I had imagined.
We returned by ferry. The air was sharp and cold, so I wrapped a large scarf around my head and drank in the view. The hike was harder than expected, but I would gladly do it again—hopefully with more of the family next time.
Slow Sunday & Zurich
With an early morning and a long travel day ahead on Monday, we took Sunday morning slowly. We sipped coffee, watched clouds weave through the mountains, and Jack streamed his church service for us.
After a relaxed start, we drove to Zurich with a lunch stop along the way.
Every visit with Jack shows me more of John in him, which fills me with joy. That Sunday he struck up a conversation with the owner of a small café and listened as the man shared a story of hopes dimmed by tragedy. Jack asked thoughtful questions and listened closely—in German, a language he couldn’t speak eighteen months earlier. I was quietly proud.
Zurich greeted us with a rare stillness—many shops and sights were closed for Sunday—and I found that calm appealing. The city is built on hills and threaded with canals, so we climbed countless steps until we discovered Lindenhof Hill, a quiet square perched above churches, waterways, and shops.
The autumn sky flirted with the sun, casting a soft, changing glow over trees, cathedrals, and boats—much like that afternoon in Luzern. We descended to the main canal and ended the trip with a concert at the Zurich Tonhalle. Jack loves classical music; I found the tickets after Saturday’s hike, and it turned out to be one of the best concerts I’ve attended.
The trip closed with a final hug the next morning as Jack boarded his flight back to Germany. I’ll hold that moment until we see him again in December—this time in Denmark.
