The case of Chur

Swiss spot

In a country that has so many enticing blockbuster attractions, Chur seems like a curious choice of a place to visit on a whirlwind tour. But there is a reason for my choice; Chur (pronounced Kh-oor) is not just one of Switzerland’s classic beauties but also the country’s oldest city, continually inhabited since 3,000 BCE. In fact, archaeological evidence in the form of tools suggests that it was first settled in during the Stone Age, that’s sometime around 11,000 BCE.

In fact, in the couple of days that I spend exploring its narrow lanes and exquisite churches, it’s a mystery to me as to how this town has remained hidden away from curious touristy eyes for so long. But mine is not to reason why; I’m just grateful to have at least one pretty Swiss town to myself without the touristy hordes photobombing every frame.

The capital of the Graubünden (also known as Grisons) province in the eastern side of the country, Chur is nestled smugly at the base of the Alps. That is the first thing I notice as I step out of the railway station — the fact that the Alps surround the town, rising fiercely and dramatically in all directions. Throw into the mix old buildings painted in pastel colours and a jumble of criss-crossing alleys, and you can see why it does not take too long for Chur to work its allure on me.

The road out of the station leads straight into the heart of the old town, which is like many European cities, devoid of vehicular traffic. The best way to explore Chur is on foot, and that is what I do on a walking tour with Hans Hürlimann, a local who regales us with stories about the city. From a viewpoint high up, we catch sight of the lush green vineyards stretching out in the valley below, as far as the eye can see. At that point, I immediately make a mental note to ask about local wines at dinner.

It’s a mild summer morning and everyone in Chur — locals and tourists alike — is out in the open, enjoying the fine weather. While the al fresco cafés are bursting at the seams with contented diners, bargain hunters have found their own deals at the dozens of boutiques and markets all over town. Meanwhile, the kids are all having a great time splashing about on the makeshift water fountains that have sprung up on the main streets in a nod to summer.

My favourite stop on the walk is the Cathedral of St Mary of the Assumption, simply known as the Chur Cathedral, whose rather plain exteriors give no clue to the riches it holds inside. Built between 1151 and 1282, and renovated extensively in the 19th century (with a more recent refurbishment in 2007), the cathedral is home to some stunning wall frescoes and stained glass windows. But the highlight is hidden away in a corner high above eye level, a secret that Hans lets us into with great pomp and show: the spectacular altar with a gilded wood triptych from the late 1400s.

High on hike

The next morning, the countryside beckons and we head out to Viamala Gorge, less than an hour’s drive away. This magnificent ravine, now a popular tourist attraction, was once hated by the peace-loving Swiss for being an evil obstruction in their journey across the Alps, giving it the name of ‘Bad Path’. Surrounded by 300-metre-high cliffs, with the aquamarine waters of the Hinterrhein river flowing through the narrow gaps in the rocks, this spot is a hiker’s delight.

And even for a lazy city slicker like me, the Alpine sunlight fills the canvas with a magic that makes the trudge up and down 321 stone steps totally worth it. At the top, I hesitate for a few brief seconds, but the sunshine glinting off the blue-green water down below is way too enticing. And there are benches provided thoughtfully at the end of every dozen steps or so, where I can rest my weary feet, pretending to be looking for exotic birds and mountain goats, while desperately catching my breath.

Back at ground level after an hour, I have a few hearty swigs of the Roteli, the local cherry liqueur, to revive my sagging energy. Roteli ­— from ‘rote kirschen’ or red cherries ­— is another of Graubünden’s delightful hidden secrets, a potent liqueur made from a blend of fruit schnapps, dried cherries and flavourful spices like vanilla, cloves and cinnamon. It is no wonder that in a few short minutes, my world suddenly feels like a brighter place.

After lunch, it is time to head to the village of Flims, to dip my toes at Lake Cauma. Surrounded by dense woodland on three sides, Lake Cauma reveals itself in all its ‘50 shades of blue’ glory. It is a short and pleasant walk along a shaded forest path from Flims, which in winter is a popular skiing destination. In the offseason summer month during my visit, it is eerily quiet, and I wonder if all the hotels built in the style of traditional Swiss chalets on the main streets are empty.

Siesta by the lake

In absolute contrast, Lake Cauma itself feels like the scene of a village mela when we arrive, families out in full force on that beautiful summer evening. Groups of shrieking young kids are diving off a high rock into the cool water, while others swim and splash about with wild abandon. There are plastic floats of all shapes and sizes, with adults and children alike gliding placidly on the calm water, also getting a tan in the process. A few boisterous groups are trying their hand at water sports like paddling and canoeing, but on the whole, most people seem content to just lie down on blankets with their eyes closed.

It is only much later that I learn the local name for this lake: ‘See der Mittagsruhe’ –— roughly translated as ‘Lake of mid-day rest’. And suddenly the tableau I had witnessed begins to make sense.

Back in Chur, I tuck into a traditional Grisons dinner of Maluns (fried potato scraps with applesauce and Alpine cheese), Capuns Sursilvans (stuffed cabbage rolls cooked in milk and topped with cheese), and Pizzoccheri Nero (buckwheat noodles with vegetables, topped with foaming butter) — all of which taste better than they sound. I wash it all down with a glass or two of local Swiss wine from the region.

And suddenly, I am bursting with a desire to tell the world to come and discover my little Swiss secret for themselves.