Category: Writer

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Bern

Uncover Bern’s Hidden Gems: 5 Offbeat Attractions for the Curious Traveller

Bern, the charming capital of Switzerland, often finds itself overshadowed by its more famous counterparts in Zurich and Geneva. However, this picturesque city has plenty to offer for the discerning traveller willing to venture off the beaten path. In this post, we’ll explore five unique attractions in Bern that cater to those seeking a more immersive and authentic experience.

  1. The Federations Garden (Bundesgarten)

Tucked away in the heart of the city, the Federations Garden is a serene oasis that few tourists know about. This beautifully landscaped park is home to over 100 flower beds, charming walking paths, and several monuments dedicated to Swiss history and politics. It’s the perfect spot to relax and enjoy the tranquillity amidst bustling Bern.

  1. Einstein Museum

While Albert Einstein’s connection to Bern is well-documented, the dedicated museum to his life and work is often overlooked by visitors. The Einstein Museum offers an engaging and educational experience, featuring interactive exhibits, original documents, and even a reconstructed version of the patent office where Einstein worked. It’s an excellent choice for science enthusiasts and those fascinated by the life of the iconic physicist.

  1. Gurten Hill (Gurten)

For a panoramic view of Bern and its surroundings, head to Gurten Hill, a popular local spot. This hill offers several hiking trails, a playground for kids, and a beer garden with delicious Swiss cuisine. On summer evenings, the Gurten Festival takes place, featuring live music performances and stunning sunsets over the city. Don’t miss the chance to capture breathtaking photos of Bern from this unique vantage point.

  1. Bern Minster’s Roof Tour (Dachrundgang)

Most tourists content themselves with admiring Bern Minster’s Gothic facade from the ground. However, for a truly memorable experience, take the guided roof tour, which provides unparalleled views of the city and its surroundings. The tour leads you through the steeple’s narrow catwalks, giving you a thrilling sense of being on top of the world. Book your spot in advance, as the tour’s limited capacity ensures an exclusive experience.

  1. Tanner Row (Tuchlauben)

Step back in time and wander along Tanner Row, a charming cobblestone street lined with half-timbered houses dating back to the 12th century. This picturesque alley, once an important textile industry hub, now hosts a variety of boutique shops, cozy cafes, and traditional Swiss restaurants. The lively atmosphere and historic charm make Tanner Row an ideal spot for a leisurely afternoon stroll or a romantic dinner date.

In conclusion, Bern offers a wealth of hidden attractions and experiences for those willing to explore beyond the city’s main tourist trails. From serene gardens to thrilling rooftop tours, and from historic streets to science museums, there’s something for every interest and curiosity in this enchanting Swiss city. So why not take the road less travelled and uncover Bern’s unique charm for yourself?

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 48

An outline of the premise of the story, in what I would call a pitch to an editor…

…

The Powder Keg Conference: When Irony Meets Incitement in the Republic of Azmar

The world of international politics often serves up a certain dish of absurdity, but occasionally, the ingredients align for a truly catastrophic meal. We are witnessing such a geopolitical culinary disaster right now, brewing in the fictional Republic of Azmar.

Azmar is, by all measures, a textbook example of modern authoritarianism: a military dictatorship, financially and politically shielded by a major superpower, and helmed by President General Kroll, a man whose personal wealth seems to increase inversely to his country’s freedoms. The regime’s human rights abuses—disappearances, rigged judiciary, suppression of dissent—are not simply allegations; they are an open, festering secret among global watchdog organisations.

And yet, this week, Azmar is throwing a party.

The Irony Convention

In a move that strains the very definition of chutzpah, the Kroll regime is hosting the Global Summit for Progressive Human Rights Advancement.

The contrast is dizzying. While political prisoners languish in overcrowded, secret facilities, the capital city has been scrubbed clean. Banners proclaiming “Justice Through Dialogue” hang from lampposts. The state-run media is ecstatic, broadcasting endless interviews about Azmar’s commitment to “international transparency.”

The goal, of course, is not dialogue. It is legitimisation. The conference is a Potemkin Village, a meticulously constructed facade designed to convince foreign investors and, more importantly, the regime’s international patrons that Azmar is a stable, reforming nation.

And perhaps the most volatile element of this stagecraft? The roster of attendees.

The Ethical Tightrope Walk of the Keynote Speaker

The event has attracted truly renowned figures: Nobel Laureates, celebrated international lawyers, and veteran human rights defenders. These are people whose careers have been defined by fighting the very abuses Azmar exemplifies.

Why are they here? For some, it is the genuine belief that dialogue must occur, even with the devil. For others, it’s the hefty speaking fees and the promise of a global stage. Whatever the motivation, their presence offers the Kroll regime exactly what it craves: a veneer of institutional approval.

When a celebrated author stands at the podium, criticising abstract concepts of oppression while simultaneously shaking hands with the architect of that oppression, the lines between principle and pragmatism blur dangerously. Their words, intended as a critique, are instead absorbed into the regime’s propaganda machine: “See? Even the world’s greatest thinkers endorse Azmar’s path forward.”

It is a tense, ethically compromised theatre. But the real drama is about to erupt just outside the conference hall.

The Return of the Ghost

For years, the domestic unrest in Azmar has been a low, continuous rumble—a simmering resentment against Kroll’s corruption and brutality. The memory of the previous government, the democratically elected administration deposed in the violent coup fifteen years ago, lingered like a ghost, kept alive only by hushed whispers.

That ghost has just materialised.

Simultaneously with the arrival of the international luminaries, news has swept through the Azmari underground that Elias Mendieta, the long-missing son of the deposed and disappeared president, has returned home.

Elias Mendieta represents everything President Kroll is not: legitimacy, democratic mandate, and the promise of a free Azmar. His return is not just political news; it is a profound symbolic act. It transforms simmering discontent into active incitement.

The Collision Course

The timing is either impossibly unlucky for President Kroll or perfectly calculated by Mendieta’s supporters.

Think about the dynamics now at play:

  1. Maximum Global Focus: The world’s major media outlets and human rights organisations are all focused on Azmar due to the conference.
  2. Maximum Internal Tension: The regime has poured all its resources into maintaining a facade of tranquillity, meaning security forces are stretched and focused on keeping the peace in the capital’s diplomatic quarters.
  3. Maximum Ideological Threat: Elias Mendieta, the embodiment of popular resistance and democratic history, is now mobilising supporters in the streets.

This is not a political confrontation that will play out in press releases. This is a dramatic, high-stakes collision.

If Mendieta attempts to make a dramatic public appearance, the regime faces an impossible choice:

  • Option A: Allow him to speak. This instantly delegitimises the conference and risks igniting mass protests that could turn revolutionary.
  • Option B: Arrest or silence him violently. Doing so while Nobel Laureates are debating “the future of free expression” literally blocks away would shatter the carefully constructed facade and invite global condemnation, potentially forcing the major power propping up Kroll to finally step back.

The Republic of Azmar has prepared a gilded stage for a dialogue on human rights, but what is truly about to commence is a revolution.

What could possibly go wrong? Everything. And we are all watching the fuse burn down.

…

The names and the places are fill-in’s but everything else is on the rollercoaster with no brakes!

In a word: Piece

Aside from the fact that it really means part of something else, we’ve got to remember that it is one of those ‘i before e except after c’ things.

I have a piece of the puzzle.  Well, maybe not.  You know what it’s like when you’re assembling a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle.  Yes, you get to the end and one piece is missing.

You’re so angry you want to give someone a piece of your mind.

Just remember not to give too many people pieces or you will become mindless.

We might be listening to a musical piece, which can be a movement, I think, in a symphony

Or we might piece together the parts of a child’s toy, especially on that night before Christmas when everything can and will go wrong.  I’ve been there and done that far too many times.

I’ve been known to move a chess piece incorrectly, no, come think of it, I’m always doing that

Some people call a gun a piece.

This is not to be confused with the word peace, which means something else, and hopefully, everyone will put away their pieces (guns) and declare peace.

And, every Sunday, at the church, there’s always an opportunity to say to the people around you ‘peace be with you’.

I wonder if that works very well if the person standing next to you is your enemy?

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

NANOWRIMO – November 2025 – Day 24

…

The Third Son of a Duke

…

Of course, writing letters and making extravagant claims has to have some impact, and the way he worded it, it got the desired response.

Someone wanted to give it a go.

So, off to the powers that be, a longer talk and a look at some maps, then off to camp for some soldier training, and then back for some officer training, stuff to improve that he learned at Sandhurst, and at the end of it, a commission, and a mission.

At least he got to see the pyramids and stand under the sphinx.

He also tried to find Louise, tracing her movements from disembarkation in Alexandria to the camp and then, in the general spirit of missing her by a week, finds she has been sent to a casualty clearing centre, destination, not quite sure

His destination, somewhere on the western front in France.

Now it’s time to face the horrors of war.

…

2230 words, for a total of 39250 words.

Writing about writing a book – Day 28

So after that rather undramatic ‘off with the fairies’ moment, it’s time to come back to earth.  Holiday or not, there’s always something that can go wrong.

Even when you’ve been told to take some vacation days and reluctantly stay home.  The notion that vacation meant going away somewhere doesn’t enter Bill’s mind.

Perhaps he’s like a lot of workaholics, using their job as an excuse to forget about life outside work.

Maybe he was hoping something would go wrong.  Maybe he had considered manufacturing a problem so that he would have to go back.

Maybe not, but that was the sort of employee he was, not one that could willingly take a day away, just in case.

Like now.

…

I’d almost managed to doze off again when the phone rang.

I jumped to its equally shrill sound cutting through the silence.  It had to be a wrong number because no one at work would call me, and I didn’t have many friends, so I let it ring out.  As far as I could remember, it was only the third time it had rung since I’d moved in, four years ago.

Blissful silence.  I looked at the bedside clock.  7 am.  Who called anyone at that hour?

It rang again.

Ignore it, I thought.  If it were anyone, it would be someone from the office.  I’d told them all not to call me, not unless the building was burning down and they were all trapped in it.

And even then, I’d have to think about it.

Burying my head under the pillow didn’t shut out the insistent ringing, compelling me to answer.  Almost reluctantl,y I rolled back, pulled the telephone out from under the bed, and lifted the receiver to my ear.

“Bill?”

It was Carl Benton, my immediate superior, an insipid, loathsome, irritating little man, the last person I would want to speak to.  He’d insisted I take this leave, that the office could survive without me, adding in his most condescending manner that I needed the break.

I slammed the receiver down in anger.  It was a forlorn gesture.  Seconds later, it rang again.

“I seem to remember you were the one to tell me to go on holiday, that I needed a holiday.  I’m off the roster.  It can’t be that important.  Call someone else.”  I wasn’t going to allow him to speak.  Not this morning.  I was not in the mood to listen to that squeaky, falsetto voice of his, one that always turned into a whine when he didn’t get his way.

And hung up again.

Not that it would do any good.  I knew that even if I was in Tibet, he would still call.  Then I realised it was too early for him to be in the office, and if he was, he would have been dragged out of bed and put in a position where if he didn’t produce results, they might realise just how incompetent he was.

At last, my holiday had some meaning and I smiled to myself.  I’d make the bastard sweat.

He left it a few minutes before he rang again.  And I let it ring out.  I could see the expression on his face, one of bewilderment, slowly changing into a suffused anger.  How dare I ignore him!

Another five minutes, then the phone began its shrill insistence again.  Before it rang again, I’d moved it from the floor to the bed.  I counted the rings to ten, and then picked up the receiver.

“Bill?  Don’t hang up.”  Almost pleading.

“Why?  You said I should go, away from work, away from the phones, away to recharge my batteries, I believe you said.”

“That was Friday.  This is Monday. You’re needed.  Richardson was found shot dead at his desk.  All hell has broken loose!”  Benton rarely used adjectives, so I assumed when he said all hell had broken loose, it meant something had happened he couldn’t fix.  His flowery language and telegram style had momentarily distracted my attention from Richardson’s fate.

Harold Richardson was an accountant, rather stuffy, but good at his job.  I’d spoken to him probably twice in as many years, and he didn’t strike me as the sort who would kill himself.  So why did I think that?  Benton had only said he was shot.

Benton’s voice went up an octave, a sure sign he was going into meltdown.  “It’s a circus down here.  Jennifer is missing, Giles is not in yet, the network is down, and that bunch of nincompoops you call support staff are running around the office like headless chooks.”

It all came out in a nonstop sentence, followed by a gasp for air.  It gave me time to sift the facts.  Jennifer, my sometime assistant, and responsible for data entry and accounts maintenance, was not there, which in itself was unusual, because she kept longer hours than I, Peter Giles, my youthful assistant, just out of university and still being beaten into shape, was not in, and that was usual, so it could only mean one thing.

The network was down.

…

© Charles Heath 2016-2025

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 47

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

…

At least the helicopter pilot hadn’t hit the fuel tanks or any of the control wires.

Because of the holes in the fuselage, we couldn’t fly any higher than between two and five thousand feet or go as fast as Davies would like, but the plane settled into a routine and got us where we wanted to go.

Just a few miles from the base, fuel almost exhausted, we got a fighter escort.

At first, I thought the base commander thought we were an unidentified flying object, mainly because something else had been hit, our communications. We couldn’t tell the base we were coming, and they only had the Colonel’s transmission of an approximate arrival time, much earlier than the actual time we were supposed to arrive.

On the ground, we were met with fire trucks, and a military escort, with weapons that could take out a mouse at one thousand yards. Just in case we were terrorists, I suppose.

We were parked in a bay away from the main terminal area and had to wait for a half-hour before we were met by Lallo. Monroe’s comment, that he was probably finishing his lunch which would be more important than meeting us, had kept us waiting.

The two abductees were the first to leave the aircraft, then Shurl’s body was removed after the doctor certified he was dead.

Then the rest of us were allowed to leave the aircraft. A bus was waiting, and everyone bar Monroe and I had boarded and been taken away. Under guard. Perhaps their service had not mitigated their prison sentences. I didn’t ask Lallo why; I’d probably not get the truth anyway.

“Good job,” he said, after watching the bus depart. “Pity, it wasn’t done right the first time.”

A compliment followed by disparagement.

“Next time you can do the job yourself,” Monroe said. “And until you’ve been in the field and actually got shot at, you’d do well to keep that trap of yours shut.”

“May I …”

“…remind me you’re my superior officer? No. I’m sure that status won’t last much longer. I’m applying for a transfer.”

He looked at me. “What about you?”

“Nothing to say, except I don’t blame her. Now, since all you’ve done is prove to me you’re an idiot, I’ll take my leave.”

In the distance I could see a large American car, the sort that proliferated in the 1950s and 1960s before petrol prices were a problem, cutting across the runway at speed. Was it the owner of the DC3 coming to see the damage?

No. When it got closer I could see Bamfield, cigar in mouth, beaming. I suppose no one felt they had the authority to tell him not to.

The car stopped behind Lallo’s jeep and Bamfield got out, then leaned against the driver’s side door and looked at us over the roof.

“James, Monroe. Still alive I see. Pity about the plane; I know the chap who owns it. He’s going to be pissed when he sees the cannon holes. What happened?”

“Bad guys,” Monroe said.

“Of course. Get in, I’ll give you a ride back to the terminal. We can talk on the way.”

Neither of us moved. If Monroe wasn’t going to suffer fools gladly, neither was I.

“Well…”

“I’d rather walk,” I said.

“We’d rather walk, sir.” With a heavy emphasis on the ‘sir’.

“Look, you did a great job, minimal losses, and we got two assets back. Everyone is happy. But, we have a small problem down in South America…”

…

© Charles Heath 2020

Writing a book in 365 days – 311

Day 311

Exploring our dreams

…

Unlocking the Night: Exploring the Mystical and the Mundane in Our Dreams

The moment our conscious minds drift into slumber, a new world unfurls. A world where gravity is optional, where the familiar can morph into the surreal, and where echoes of our waking lives mingle with the utterly bizarre. Dreams. They’ve captivated, puzzled, and inspired humanity for millennia, sparking endless debate about their true nature. Are they celestial messages whispered from beyond, or simply the chaotic rumblings of our own sleeping brains?

For many, dreams are indeed magical journeys. They offer an escape from the mundane, transporting us to fantastical landscapes, reuniting us with lost loved ones, or allowing us to fly through star-dusted skies. These are the dreams that linger, leaving us with a sense of wonder and a touch of longing for the ephemeral reality we briefly inhabited. They can feel profoundly significant, imbued with a wisdom or a warning that feels almost otherworldly. Think of the ancient interpretations, where dreams were seen as direct communications from deities or omens of the future. This perspective imbues our dreamscapes with a powerful, almost spiritual, aura.

On the other hand, the realm of psychology offers a compelling alternative: dreams as eruptions of the subconscious. Freud famously theorised that dreams are the “royal road to the unconscious,” a space where repressed desires, unresolved conflicts, and hidden anxieties can manifest in symbolic form. From this viewpoint, those fleeting images and nonsensical narratives are not random but are rather the deeply buried parts of ourselves fighting for attention. That recurring dream of being chased might not be a premonition of danger, but a symbolic representation of avoidance in our waking life. Understanding these subconscious eruptions can be a powerful tool for self-discovery and personal growth.

But how do we bridge these two seemingly disparate interpretations? And more importantly, how do we glean meaning from the often elusive tapestry of our dreams? For a growing number of individuals, the answer lies in a simple yet profound practice: keeping a dream journal.

The act of writing down your dreams, no matter how fragmented or strange they may seem, is an incredibly potent way to engage with your nocturnal adventures. It’s like catching fireflies in a jar – you’re capturing fleeting moments of light and then examining them more closely in the quiet of the morning.

Here’s why a dream journal can be so transformative:

  • Enhanced Recall: Dreams are notoriously fleeting. The moment you wake up, the images begin to fade. By immediately jotting down what you remember, you’re preserving these valuable fragments before they vanish into the ether. Even a few keywords or a fleeting image can trigger fuller memories later.
  • Pattern Recognition: Over time, you’ll start to notice recurring themes, symbols, and emotions in your dreams. This is where the real magic of a journal unfolds. Are you frequently encountering water? Are there specific people who keep appearing? These patterns can offer profound insights into your current emotional state, your subconscious concerns, and even your deepest aspirations.
  • Symbol Interpretation: While some dream symbols are universal, many are deeply personal. By seeing your symbols laid out in your journal, you can begin to decipher their unique meaning to you. What does that specific colour, that peculiar object, or that strange location represent in your personal lexicon?
  • Bridging the Gap: A dream journal can act as a bridge between the magical and the mundane. You can still appreciate the fantastical journeys while simultaneously seeking the underlying psychological messages. It allows for both wonder and introspection.
  • Boosting Creativity: Many artists, writers, and musicians draw inspiration directly from their dreams. A well-maintained dream journal can be a treasure trove of unique ideas, unexpected plot twists, and evocative imagery, fueling your creative endeavours.

Whether you view your dreams as whimsical escapades or as vital messages from your inner self, the practice of keeping a dream journal offers a tangible way to connect with this mysterious and often overlooked aspect of your existence. So, next time you wake with a phantom sensation or a lingering image, grab a notebook and pen. You might just be on the verge of unlocking a hidden world within yourself.

What are your thoughts on dreams? Do you keep a dream journal? Share your experiences in the comments below!

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Bern

Uncover Bern’s Hidden Gems: 5 Offbeat Attractions for the Curious Traveller

Bern, the charming capital of Switzerland, often finds itself overshadowed by its more famous counterparts in Zurich and Geneva. However, this picturesque city has plenty to offer for the discerning traveller willing to venture off the beaten path. In this post, we’ll explore five unique attractions in Bern that cater to those seeking a more immersive and authentic experience.

  1. The Federations Garden (Bundesgarten)

Tucked away in the heart of the city, the Federations Garden is a serene oasis that few tourists know about. This beautifully landscaped park is home to over 100 flower beds, charming walking paths, and several monuments dedicated to Swiss history and politics. It’s the perfect spot to relax and enjoy the tranquillity amidst bustling Bern.

  1. Einstein Museum

While Albert Einstein’s connection to Bern is well-documented, the dedicated museum to his life and work is often overlooked by visitors. The Einstein Museum offers an engaging and educational experience, featuring interactive exhibits, original documents, and even a reconstructed version of the patent office where Einstein worked. It’s an excellent choice for science enthusiasts and those fascinated by the life of the iconic physicist.

  1. Gurten Hill (Gurten)

For a panoramic view of Bern and its surroundings, head to Gurten Hill, a popular local spot. This hill offers several hiking trails, a playground for kids, and a beer garden with delicious Swiss cuisine. On summer evenings, the Gurten Festival takes place, featuring live music performances and stunning sunsets over the city. Don’t miss the chance to capture breathtaking photos of Bern from this unique vantage point.

  1. Bern Minster’s Roof Tour (Dachrundgang)

Most tourists content themselves with admiring Bern Minster’s Gothic facade from the ground. However, for a truly memorable experience, take the guided roof tour, which provides unparalleled views of the city and its surroundings. The tour leads you through the steeple’s narrow catwalks, giving you a thrilling sense of being on top of the world. Book your spot in advance, as the tour’s limited capacity ensures an exclusive experience.

  1. Tanner Row (Tuchlauben)

Step back in time and wander along Tanner Row, a charming cobblestone street lined with half-timbered houses dating back to the 12th century. This picturesque alley, once an important textile industry hub, now hosts a variety of boutique shops, cozy cafes, and traditional Swiss restaurants. The lively atmosphere and historic charm make Tanner Row an ideal spot for a leisurely afternoon stroll or a romantic dinner date.

In conclusion, Bern offers a wealth of hidden attractions and experiences for those willing to explore beyond the city’s main tourist trails. From serene gardens to thrilling rooftop tours, and from historic streets to science museums, there’s something for every interest and curiosity in this enchanting Swiss city. So why not take the road less travelled and uncover Bern’s unique charm for yourself?