Jungfraujoch.

When I was sitting on the seat at Platform 2 of the Thun railway station, my soon-to-be-completely abandoned itinerary was simple enough – I would go to Interlaken, take a quick stroll around the lake, maybe grab a sandwich to eat, then get back on the train and go to another town. Today would be my town-hopping day, the best thing to do to make my 5-day Rail Pass worth its money.

I know Jungfrau lies within the Interlaken region, but I never really thought about going there. For some inexplicable reasons (lack of research obviously), I was under the assumption that you need to have an oxygen mask (wrong) and full ski equipment (wrong) to embark on this freezing (oh yes) journey to climb the 4,158m high mountain, “Top of Europe” as it is dubbed, and my high street outfit (flimsy Zara turtle-neck wool top, worn-out fleece jacket, jeans and sneakers) is neither convincing or appropriate. How wrong was I.

On the train to Interlaken Ost, I consulted with my colorful DK travel guide, and to my surprise discovered that there are rack railway services that take you all the way from Interlaken to Jungfraujock, the icy saddle that lies just below the Jungfrau summit. And after a few railway changes, I found myself standing, still in my Zara top and jeans, 3,454m above sea level, out in the open, surround by a sea of pure dazzling white snow, breathing the very thin air that is left, freezing but overjoyed. Overjoyed because of the unexpectedness of the whole thing; I was genuinely pleasantly surprised.

However, as I was taking pictures with my numb fingers (good), making snowballs (oh so good) and later on accidentally stepping into the 2-feet deep snow and having a hard time pulling myself of the cold and wet (still good), a sense of sadness suddenly rushed to me. I felt incredibly lonely. Moments like this are meant to be shared with your loved ones, and mine happens to be stuck in the conference room back in Thun, three hours away and 3,454 meters below me. The fact that I was all alone on the snow mountain (the only other human being in sight is a staff member, with his working husky) was of little help.

During the past few days, BB and I have been talking about our many “first times” that happened in this trip – those shared moments (very often silly ones) that lovers cherish so much that they put them in a special compartment in their heart the key to which belong to the other person, and that many years after they can easily recall, reminisce and laugh about them. Today could have easily found its way straight to that special compartment, if only BB were with me.

Standing at the Top of Europe with my snowball, I missed BB I have never missed him before.