The Dirtbag Diaries: Walking Across Liechtenstein
I had decided a couple years back, after walking across England via the Hadrian’s Wall trail, that walking across small countries is a mighty fine way to spend time. Rather than try to bounce around to various sights, you simply stroll your way through the entire land, following paths that are etched in history, designed by pilgrims and locals. Walking across micronations and other tiny countries gives one a sense of oversized accomplishment. Why not give yourself some easy goals in life?
Walking is the only way to measure the rhythm of the body against the rhythm of the land.
~Rebecca Solnit
Liechtenstein caught my eye a while back, for being the sixth smallest county in the world and one of the least visited places in Europe. In the age of overtourism, it’s a breath of fresh air to not feel like you’re descending upon a destination like a plague.
I met my dear friend and walking partner, emmy, in Zurich and we took a short train ride over to this pocket principality using the SBB Mobile, a Swiss public transportation app. This app was perhaps the greatest marvel of our trip, seamlessly laying out routes across buses, trains, and trams, coordinating all the transfers, and allowing you to pay for the entire journey all in one click. The Swiss have managed to eliminate the lost bumbling of the newly arrived wanderer, and any adventure that confusion may have brought. Gone also are the opportunities for the kindness of strangers, such as that time an exasperated rural Czech bus driver let me on his bus even though I had purchased a train ticket (with the language barrier, I didn’t even realize why he was distressed until I examined my ticket later and embarrassingly noticed the tiny image of a train on it). Some nostalgia aside, I loved the app and commend the Swiss for creating an introvert’s wet dream. Travelers can go argue with bus drivers in India, if they miss the challenge.
Liechtenstein’s claim to fame- if it has any fame at all- is solely for being small, with its official Instagram account mostly touting the fact that 90% of the country’s view is actually of Switzerland. In fact, after spending some time in Liechtenstein, it seemed like the tiny country was more of a vassal state of Switzerland than its own nation, but you didn’t hear that from me. It stands apart from its Alpine neighbors by serving a niche that many Native American reservations do- with six large casinos for a national population of under 40,000, it’s a gambling destination and free market haven in this part of Europe.
That makes it all sound a bit seedy, but Liechtenstein retains its pastoral charm, clustering the casinos in its tiny towns. Otherwise, the countryside consists of rolling alpine meadows, medieval wooden cottages, mountainous forests, looming castles, and trails that wind through it all. The livestock- be it cows, sheep, donkeys, or goats- were each adorned with cowbells, which had the breathtakingly lovely effect of the constant sound of bells echoing through the valleys.
Walking through the country was remarkably peaceful, with a kind of quiet atmosphere that makes you lower your voice without thinking. Indeed, a running joke of the trip was that emmy and I would abruptly turn around shush each other. Shhh! Mustn’t disturb the Liechtensteiners or the cows. Outside of the miniscule capital of Vaduz, we were among such a small handful of tourists that our presence elicited some stares from locals, as we tramped through their neighborhoods with our water bladders and hiking shoes.
I never grew tired of the intense greenery that surrounded us, the endless meadows and lawns that to a desert dweller such as myself, seems almost impossible. Public drinking troughs were abundant, with water that flowed continuously out of them, which had us examining and staring at each one in wonder. Apparently, having water (from mountain springs, no less) free-flowing creates an easy-to-maintain system that avoids bacteria growth and costly cleaning. Liechtenstein is full of multi-million dollar homes and shiny luxury cars, but this abundance of water was the most striking sign of wealth to me.
To sample the local cuisine as we stocked up on groceries, emmy and I picked out a Liechtenstein cheese, very promisingly label ‘Unicorn Cheese’ with an rainbow illustration on the front of it. As we unpacked our groceries back at the flat, I started to open the cheese packaging. As I did, I secretly wondered if something terribly wrong might be happening to emmy on a gastrointestinal level. A tension fell across the kitchen as I sensed she might be wondering the same thing about me. Soon, the smell transcended health concerns and reached an alarming biohazard level. We looked down and realized this great offense was coming from the cheese I was opening. Unicorn cheese indeed! Perhaps if a unicorn had vomited, shat itself, and then died in quick succession.
It tasted okay though.
(I felt that perhaps Lichtenstein might consider throwing us a parade for our immense bravery in actually eating the cheese, but no one offered.)
One of my favorite parts of the walk coincided with another of the country’s marked trails, The Walser Sagen Weg, named for the rural Walser people who settled the highest reaches of the Alps and dotted the alpine meadows with their distinctive and earthy wooden houses. The Walser Weg highlighted the community’s local folklore, complete with delightfully disturbing wooden statues.
The Night Folk would wander in processions down the small roads of the villages under the cover of night, while locals tried their best to leave them be. If you had the misfortune of gazing upon them, you might see yourself in their numbers, which foretold that your own days on this side of the moral veil were drawing to an end.
But my most beloved statue was that of Das Doggi, a truly demented little imp who sits on you while you sleep so you can’t breathe. In one case, a tormented woman grabbed one of the Doggi’s braids and condemned it back to the Devil as she pulled. Das Doggi vanished.
Another charming aspect to this hamlet of a country was the abundance of personal vineyards that filled people’s yards and covered the hillsides. 100 citizens of Lichtenstein make their own wine. When they need it bottled, the Prince’s winery is available for use, because that is where the one fancy bottling machine is. The royal winery itself only produces 2,000 bottles a year, so the machine sits quiet most of the time.
All in all, it was a simple walk, really….no grand destination, no rush. Nothing extraordinary happened, but that was kind of the point. Liechtenstein has the aura of a cozy safe haven tucked away from other frantic and ever-changing societies. Of course, the world’s urgency reaches even the calmest corners, but it was nice feeling like this was one spot that might be overlooked for just a little longer.
As a souvenir of our walk, as I did with Hadrian’s Wall, I felted small badges based off the Lichtenstein Trail signs. The official trail signs of any pilgrimage like this quickly become old friends and a welcome sight if you’ve somehow wandered off the path.
You can watch a full video of our walk highlights here:
