Winter in Giswil – A Swiss Sketchbook
Flew into Zurich last night at about 8:30 PM. Timo, my son, was there to pick me up at the airport. The temperature outside was a biting 0°C, and instantly, I was transported back in memory to the cold winters of Green Bay, Wisconsin. It was good to see my son again after what seemed like ages.
His home was warm, comfortable, and filled with the scent of pine. My bedroom was cozy and inviting. That night, I fell asleep with peace in my heart. I awoke before sunrise, and as light crept in, I sat by the window with my sketchbook, capturing the early scene outside in lines and shadows.
The small town of Giswil sits quietly atop a hill, overlooking a sweeping valley that stretches far into the embrace of distant hills and snow-capped mountains. Just a month ago, in November, I was in the humid tropical warmth of Malaysia. Then, December found me wandering through the stark golden sands of Dubai. And now, suddenly, I was in the frigid, serene cold of Switzerland.
Winter has never ceased to warm my heart and soul. I have lived more than ten years in wintry countries—Wisconsin and Alaska among them. Still, if given a choice, I would return to my tropical homeland, where the climate is gentle and not so extreme.
There’s a beautiful old church near my son’s home. One morning, I walked down and positioned myself at the foot of a small hill, leaning back against an old cowshed, the scent of fresh cow dung surrounding me. I sketched as the morning mist rose, entranced by the rustic charm of the Swiss countryside. The peaceful stillness, the ancient church, and the snow-dusted rooftops—all of it filled me with gratitude. I felt proud that my son had grown up amidst such beauty.
We took a short trip to Sarnen—my son, two of his close buddies, and I. We stopped for pizza at Aiola Restaurant, a cozy little place that served as both a warm shelter and a creative studio. The waiting time for our food was just perfect for me to finish another sketch—one more memory etched onto the pages of my life.
Timo loves animals. His house was shared with two ferrets and a tortoise that moved around freely, claiming the space like kings. It was amusing and oddly fitting.
The visit with my son and his extended Swiss family—his grandparents, uncles and aunties, nephews and nieces—was memorable. It warmed my heart in a strange, dreamlike way. So much warmth and closeness... and yet, hard for me to truly believe. Had things turned out differently, I might have stayed. I might have grown roots there, too.
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