Munchmaussen Valley, a remote and picturesque locale. You see peasants wearing the lederhosen and long skirts of two centuries ago, working in the field side by side with the latest cybertractors. Directly ahead is the lovely village of Munchmaussen, dominated by its medieval church and town hall. You are amazed to see no sign of modern civilization: no aerials, no neon- or laser-glitz, and no graffiti. Village women water their flower boxes in picture-postcard fashion, while old men whittle and puff on long-stemmed pipes. The scent of baking apples fills the air. Above it all rises Schloss Munchmaussen, perched on the heights of the valley’s largest alp (“our very own Matterhorn,” gushes the tourist brochip). The mountaintop and its cliffs are snow-covered, though the weather is
warm in the lower valley. A deceptively thin-looking cable links the castle to the valley below. You watch as a tram ascends to the castle.