We passed lampposts hung with baskets of pink and purple flowers, old stone hotels swathed in mist, shrubs clipped with military neatness, and a steady stream of morning traffic. It was obvious we weren't in Iowa anymore. There were no combines toodling down the road at ten miles per hour. No field cultivators hogging both sides of the highway. No sport utility vehicles spinning off into the ditch as they gunned past the farm vehicles.

"Lake Lucerne is on your left," Wally announced. "There's a promenade along the lake that'll take you right into the center of town. Mount Pilatus is across the lake. It's seven thousand feet high and is a pretty spectacular sight. The entire lake is surrounded by mountains."

At the moment, the entire lake was surrounded by fog. Not exactly a Kodak moment, but that didn't stop Dick Stolee from whipping out his camcorder in the seat in front of us and pointing it out the window. "Mount Pilatus and Lake Lucerne," he narrated into the microphone. I guess he wanted to make sure he didn't confuse this fog with the fog he'd shot from the window of the plane when we'd left Chicago.

We passed a building called the Hotel Montana, which seemed geographically misplaced here in Switzerland, but since it put me in mind of Shirley Angowski, I looked toward the back of the bus to see if I could spy her.

"Pssst." Nana elbowed me. When I turned to her, she nodded toward Dick Stolee's head. "When I first moved to Windsor City, he had a bald spot at his crown," she whispered. "I know 'cause him and Grace always used to sit in front a me in church at the eleven o'clock Mass. Then I switched to the five o'clock service on Saturday. Now the bald spot's gone. He's wearin' a rug, and a pretty good one, too. Musta bought it new for the trip."

My big purchase for the trip had been a new Kevlar umbrella with an unbreakable exoskeleton. If it didn't rain, I could use it to fend off bullets. Red, to match my raincoat. And best of all, it was automatic.

"I wonder how he keeps the thing on?" Nana puzzled. "I saw somethin' on one of them news magazines once where a man had metal snaps sewn into his scalp so's he could snap his hairpiece on. You suppose Dick went that route?"

I didn't remember him setting off the alarm at the security checkpoints in Des Moines or Chicago, so it didn't seem likely. I studied his hair with a critical eye. "It looks pretty authentic to me, Nana. Are you sure it's fake?"

"When a man Dick Stolee's age sprouts a whole new crop a hair, it's not real. It's synthetic. Maybe he had Velcro strips implanted in his head. Velcro would keep a hairpiece on real good."

As we drove past an elegant pale yellow building that was the size of a city block, Wally spoke into the loudspeaker. "The structure on our left is the Casino. Some of you might want to try your luck at the gaming tables some night, but you'll need to dress. Sport coats for the men. Sunday dresses for the ladies. The twin spires on your right are part of the Collegiate Church and date from the thirteenth century. The cathedral itself was completed in 1633. The other church of note in the area is the Jesuit Church which was built between 1666 and 1673. Sonya will be taking you there this morning."