A typi­cal sum­mer day ahead. Monastery’s bells start rin­ging, gree­ting the first sun rays of the day. It is 4.55 a.m. Vel­ve­ty green moun­tain hills rise to touch the morning haze while rips of clouds crawl slow­ly along the rising rocky sur­faces. Some­whe­re up the­re, loo­king down from the moun­tain top and still slight­ly asleep, is the hap­piest brown cow in that ear­ly morning. The town in the val­ley is rea­dy to wake up.

This is Engel­berg. The Angel Moun­tain. A beau­ti­ful and cozy litt­le town in the can­ton of Obwal­den, Switz­er­land. It is popu­la­ted by around 4,000 peop­le but visi­ted annu­al­ly by thousands of tou­rists. Lying liter­al­ly hid­den in the arms of the moun­tains, being the last stop for one of the Swiss train lines, one only won­ders how a sin­gle per­son from Fin­land ended up in this place and how Alpland’s sto­ry star­ted.

By chan­ce? By luck? By coin­ci­dence, perhaps. Truth to be told, Engel­berg made it pos­si­ble for Alp­land and its sto­ry to be crea­ted, or at least made it pos­si­ble by its extra­or­di­na­ry cha­rac­ter, breath-taking views, local pro­du­ce and vil­la­gers’ hospitality.

The monas­te­ry bells ring in two dif­fe­rent ways, eight times in an hour, let­ting the vil­la­ge know it should be alrea­dy up and rea­dy for the day. Gon­do­las up to Tit­lis, the hig­hest moun­tain peak and whe­re Engel­berg got its logo form from, starts run­ning befo­re eight. Also, SAC Brun­ni, Füre­n­alp and Gerschni­alp trains are moving. Far­mers (which the­re are many around the area, almost a third of the total area is used to agri­cul­tu­ral pur­po­ses) have done their morning duties with the almost count­less cows, sheep, goa­ts and hor­ses. The monas­te­ry bells ring on and can be heard by the first hikers clim­bing up towards the heights, a stun­ning Gross Spann­ort moun­tain rail as their back­ground. Perhaps the­se acti­ve clim­bers are hea­ding for an over­night trip?

The noon bells strike. Sud­den­ly, the who­le vil­la­ge quiets down. It is the “Swiss sies­ta”, a time when peop­le get their kids from the school or go to out­door lunch. “En gue­te”, you might hear when having an out­door lunch and smi­ling faces walk past you. This two-hour peri­od is meant to use gather rest, have lunch with your child­ren, col­leagues or friends and get out­doors if the wea­ther allows. Natu­ral­ly, qui­te a few of the shops will clo­se and even the village’s free sum­mer bus line will not run. Colour­ful parachu­tes fill the sky, as the sum­mer time is per­fect for explo­ring the sky by fly­ing.

When the clock strikes two, one starts to hear the com­for­ting greets exch­an­ged along the streets: “Grüe­zi, grüe­zi mit­en­and”. Peop­le ack­now­ledge you are being noti­ced and they greet you inde­pen­dent of your back­ground. A cus­tom typi­cal to Swiss rural are­as and moun­tain sides. Here you are a part of the vil­la­ge. Swiss are a clo­se com­mu­ni­ty and share a local iden­ti­ty. Thus, you will see canton’s and town’s coat-of-arms han­ging almost ever­y­whe­re. Being proud of your land and heri­ta­ge shows.

Late after­noon and evening are meant for fami­ly acti­vi­ties. Engel­berg is noto­rious of its win­ter sport faci­li­ties, free-ride are­as, ski jump World Cup event in Decem­ber and — the town’s pri­de – being the world cham­pions in tug of war! Golf, foot­ball, hiking and moun­tai­nee­ring faci­li­ties top off this ran­ge of activities.

It is 8 p.m. and the monas­te­ry bells ring for the last time for the day. Star­ry sky is visi­ble bet­ween Tit­lis, Hah­nen and other moun­tain peaks shadowing the val­ley. Tou­rists won­der around the vil­la­ge streets and take pho­tos of old buil­dings while sear­ching a sui­ta­ble place for a fon­due din­ner. An alp horn is being play­ed some­whe­re up in the moun­tains. The cow rests its head down. This quaint vil­la­ge is fal­ling asleep.