(Tribune Media Services) -- The sidewalk going up the Aare River is congested with wet and happy Swiss, hiking upstream in swimsuits just to float back into town. I join them -- marveling at how this exercise brings out the silly in a people who are generally the polar opposite of goofy.

Every hundred yards a railing with concrete steps leads into the rushing river, which looks glacial blue but is surprisingly warm. Leaping in, I'm immediately caught up in the current and propelled toward the grand capital city of Switzerland amid carefree swimmers and a flotilla of rubber life rafts.

Nearing the Marzilibad park, I stroke over to snare a metal railing -- always a bit nervous that I'll miss the last one and rush toward the city's scary weir and, it seems, oblivion. Hanging onto the railing were a tanned and wiry grandmother and several giddy children clearly enjoying an afternoon going up and down the river.

That evening for dinner, I walk downstream to that scary weir where a trendy restaurant has been built literally over the rushing river. I enjoy tasty local trout over see-through floorboards as the noisy roar of the racing river masks conversations of the Swiss sipping beer on the open-air sofas.

Strolling along the river after dinner, I pass a man waterskiing in the current behind a long, playful bungy cord tied to a tree. I reach the city's mascots, Pedro and Tana. These two 26-year-old bears -- locals say that's extremely old for bears -- are kept in an old-fashioned concrete pit and serve as targets for preschoolers tossing peanuts. For years graffiti from the B.L.M (Bear Liberation Movement) has demanded better living conditions for the poor old captives of Bern. (And the city has apparently heard, as a new cheerier pit -- more acceptable to animal activists -- is in the works.)

Bern is packed into a peninsula created by a tight bend in the river. Crossing the river from the bear pits I enter the old town -- a delight to explore on foot. The lanes are lined with three miles of arcades, providing lots of shopping opportunities. This is my kind of shopping town: Prices are so high, there's no danger of buying. The local slang for the corridor under these arcades is "Rohr" (German for pipe). To stroll through the town is to go "Rohren" (piping).

As the city grew over the centuries, each of its successive walls and moats were torn down, providing vast, people-friendly swaths of land. Today these are elongated "squares," popular for markets and outdoor cafes -- the top places to be seen in the evening.

Buildings new and old throughout the city are a uniform gray, from the creamy Bernese sandstone, quarried nearby. In the 16th century, the city commissioned many colorful fountains to brighten up the gray cityscape, to show off the town's wealth, and to remind citizens of great local heroes and events. They also gave local artists something to work on after the Reformation deprived them of their most important patron, the Catholic Church.

Bern's 15th-century cathedral, once Catholic, now Protestant, is capped by a 330-foot-tall tower, the highest in Switzerland. During the Reformation, Protestants destroyed religious icons. At one time, 26 separate little chapels and altars dedicated to Mary and the various saints originally adorned the church. When the Reformation came to town in 1528, all this was swept away by iconoclasts who believed that images distracted worshippers from focusing on God. The new center of attention was the pulpit from where Protestant preachers shared the word of God, not in Latin, but in the people's language.

The parliament meets in the old town. You may brush elbows with some high-powered legislators, but you wouldn't know it -- everything looks very casual for a national capital. Drop into the parliament's welcome center and pick up the generous literature on the Swiss government. The U.S. Constitution inspired its bicameral system, with one big difference: Executive power is shared by a committee of seven, with a rotating ceremonial president and a passion for consensus. This is a mechanism to avoid power grabs by any single individual, a safeguard that the Swiss love.

The fine granite plaza in front of the parliament has 26 squirt fountains (one for each canton or Swiss state). Oblivious to the fact that half of the Swiss gold stock is buried in the country's Fort Knox under the square, kids dance with each watery eruption.

Though I've said it's almost criminal to spend a sunny Swiss day anywhere but high in the Alps, I'd make an exception for urban but easygoing Bern.

  

WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS, West Virginia (AP) -- Less than a year after he was hired to modernize The Greenbrier and make the historic resort a destination of choice for today's luxury traveler, Paul Ratchford has resigned as The Greenbrier's president.

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It's unclear, however, whether some of the other projects Ratchford had envisioned will become a reality under new President Andrew Fogarty, a longtime executive with The Greenbrier's parent company CSX Inc.

"We're looking at everything," Swann said, including a planned overhaul of the resort's formal Main Dining Room. "Nothing's on the table and nothing's off. We're looking at everything.

"All of us here at The Greenbrier and CSX are committed to the three goals of repositioning the resort for the next generation of luxury traveler, regaining the fifth star from Mobil and returning the resort to profitability," she said. "That has not changed at all."

Swann would not say whether Ratchford was asked to resign by CSX. "Sometimes you just find that things aren't a good fit," she said.

Swann remembers the day The Greenbrier lost its five-star rating, a distinction it had held almost four decades.

On January 11, 2000, the editors of Mobil Travel Guide stripped away the fifth star, proclaiming the historic hotel no longer stood among the few dozen considered the world's finest.

The Greenbrier had failed to keep up with the times, lacking the impeccable service and amenities that such a rating requires. Though still a fine hotel, Mobil decided, it was no longer perfect.

"It was personally devastating for a lot of the staff here," recalls Swann. "Our staff takes a lot of pride in this property. When they are welcoming guests, it's like they are welcoming them into their home. It was heartbreaking."

Work to regain the fifth star began immediately, surging into overdrive last winter with the renovation.

The changes number in the dozens, though many are subtle. The main lobby still has its distinctive black and white tiling, but there is music now, recorded and live. Bowls of exotic flowers have replaced potted plants. Smoking is allowed only outdoors, guests can bring small pets into the cottages, and overnight guests are greeted with wine and bottled water. New linens and flat-screen TVs await in all 721 rooms, along with more extensive changes like bigger bathrooms in 63 rooms.

"It was important that the relevance of the property was accepted with the next generation," Ratchford said in an interview before he resigned. "The Greenbrier is a very historic national treasure, but we had been unable to pierce the market share of a younger demographic that might have come here with their parents or grandparents in previous years but would not necessarily consider us for a return visit."

Street signs help visitors navigate the sprawling grounds, sprinklers appear as tiny black discs high on the wall, and wood-paneled elevators sport beveled mirrors and brass railings. Tennis courts are now royal blue, suggestive of the U.S. Open.

The former Tavern Room restaurant is now 38-80, a world music cocktail lounge named for The Greenbrier's approximate latitude and longitude. Its Moroccan-inspired decor features star-shaped lanterns, limestone walls and elaborate tile work on the ceiling.

And The Old White Lounge with its crystal chandeliers and floral drapes has been replaced by Hemisphere, which offers a gourmet tasting menu with tiny portions served over several hours. It's another decorating departure, featuring a granite water fixture and iridescent glass floor tiles in red and cream, along with rich butterscotch walls and modern fabrics in fuschia, orange and lime.

Kevin Dott, assistant director food and beverage, hopes Chef Michael Voltaggio's artistic creations and open kitchen, where guests are invited to linger, will attract a kind of traveler The Greenbrier has never sought -- the foodie.

"This is a little more contemporary, something you'd see in the major culinary cities in America," he said. "Finding it here is a bit of a surprise to our guests."

White Sulphur Springs has been a spa town since the 1770s, and The Greenbrier dates to 1910. The town is just a four-hour drive from Washington, D.C., and Amtrak service from Chicago still drops guests off at a station right across the street from the resort

With direct flights between New York and the Greenbrier Valley Airport, guests come from even farther away for annual events like the Sam Snead Festival, named for the legendary golf pro, and a food writers' symposium hosted each May.

Statewide, West Virginia attracts visitors not just from the Mid-Atlantic and nearby states like Ohio, but also from as far away as Florida. Officials say the state's nearly $4 billion tourism industry is up 6 percent since 2005. Attractions include outdoor activities like whitewater rafting, biking and skiing, as well as gambling at its four racetrack casinos, three of which will soon be offering blackjack, poker and other table games.

Peak season at The Greenbrier is May to October, with fall foliage and the holidays drawing crowds. But the resort is expanding menus, packages and spa offerings to boost offseason business.

The Greenbrier Center for Health Living is scheduled to open by January, an outgrowth of a little-known clinic that has long catered to Fortune 500 clients in need of physicals. The clinic dates to 1948, and in the 1950s, some of its doctors were designated to provide medical care for the resort's once-secret nuclear fallout shelter.

That decommissioned bunker, built to house members of Congress in case of attack, is now open to the public for tours, along with the resort's restaurants, golf courses, carriage rides and falconry lessons.

Mary Tabacchi, a professor at Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration in Ithaca, New York, said updating historic properties can be risky.

"The property is old, and I like it because it's old," she said. "They had a client that liked the old regular things, and there's always a risk when you change that you might lose your old clientele."

But she added that "the idea of what they're doing sounds good. They were verging on being shabby chic.

"The Tavern Room had lost its luster. When the weather's not good, there's not a whole lot to do there besides going to the spa and eating, so if it's going to work anywhere, it will work there," she said. "In wintertime, I could see sitting there comfortably and doing the tasting menu" at Hemisphere.

Balancing the need to modernize with the need to retain longtime clients is the key challenge for longtime designer Carleton Varney, a protege of The Greenbrier's original decorator, the legendary Dorothy Draper.

The 63 overhauled guest rooms have new furniture and bigger bathrooms, many with separate shower and soaking tub. They still have rich fabrics and floral motifs, but patterns and colors are softer.

Varney designed those rooms with what he believes Draper would do if she were alive today.

Art Heal, 69, a longtime visitor from West Pittson, Pennsylvania, said the changes so far have been "right on target," successfully preserving 150 years of history while also taking a few risks.

"They catered to a certain crowd, but now, sadly, that crowd is dying off, and you have a new crowd, and they have to cater to them, too. The new crowd expects things to change," said Heal, who discovered 38-80 with his son while their wives were at the spa.

"I'm personally amazed," said Chuck Heal, 37, of Lewisburg. "There was never anything wrong with The Greenbrier, but this is an improvement. This is a gem."

  

(Budget Travel) -- I was sitting on a Croatian beach a few years ago, staring in amazement at the glorious Adriatic Sea, when my traveling companion said, "If you think this is beautiful, you should see Montenegro someday." That day finally arrived this summer, when my friend Leslie and I decided to celebrate her birthday with a trip to the small country north of Albania and south of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

If you haven't already heard, Montenegro is the latest hotspot in the former Yugoslavia. Second-home buyers and investors have been pouring money into the country since it declared independence from Serbia last year. High-end hotel company Amanresorts is even restoring the resort island of Sveti Stefan. But as we discovered on our journey along the coast, you don't need to spend a fortune to visit Montenegro.

Locals are certainly excited about the country's possibilities. "Could you help me market my business in America?" asks our taxi driver as he speeds along a narrow road toward Boka Kotorska, the T-shaped fjord between Montenegro's coast and its interior. Our first stop is Kotor, a medieval town pressed against craggy mountains on the right arm of the Boka.

After spending the night at the Hotel Marija, a former palace with rooms that face the mountains, Leslie and I hike to the 14th-century Fortress of St. Ivan. Kotor's narrow streets have yet to catch the morning sun, so there's a slight chill in the air as we begin to scale the 1,350 stone steps to the top. On the hill, vibrant red poppies attract butterflies that flutter around our feet, and we can see the blue-green fjord stretching away from the city's labyrinth of alleys.

In Kotor, all roads lead either to the main Square of Weapons or to St. Tryphon Cathedral, which is adorned with cream-colored Korcula stone pillars. We stop for lunch at City Caffé Pizzeria near the church. (Montenegro's culinary mainstays are pizza, pasta, risotto and grilled fish.) Then we pop into the Maritime Museum for a look at Kotor's seafaring past. The Boka Marine, a fraternity founded over 1,000 years ago, is responsible for much of the museum's collection of medieval maps, gleaming cutlasses, and Japanese ivory figurines.

The next morning is cool and gray. We pay less than $2 each and board a minibus for a day trip to Perast, 30 minutes down the fjord. The bus drops us off in a square lined with Venetian Gothic buildings, all in various stages of renovation. Perast's main attraction is Our Lady of the Rock, a jewel box of a church built on an island. Silver bas-relief squares cover the church's walls, and a museum displays antique compasses next to pietà tapestries.

That night, we have drinks at Cittadella, a café with views of Kotor. Reclining on white-cushioned chairs, we order a bottle of Vranac, a light red wine that reminds me of Beaujolais. As night falls, the city's walls are illuminated by spotlights, creating a chain of light up the mountain. Leslie notices that a new portico is being erected nearby. Things are literally being built before our eyes.

I don't realize just how quickly the country is being redeveloped until we head for the resort town of Budva. Bracing myself for a twisting bus ride over steep mountains, I'm surprised when we shoot through a newly constructed tunnel and within minutes enter Budva. A group of workmen is cutting into an ancient olive grove, revealing the gnarled roots of a tree. The next morning, the tree has disappeared, and a length of crimson earth runs along the road, like a slice of red velvet cake.

The village of Sveti Stefan, which overlooks the island of the same name, is just a few miles south of Budva. We check in to the Vila Drago, a six-room pensione, and gaze at the island's red-tiled roofs and cypress trees from our balcony. Like much of the Dalmatian Coast, Sveti Stefan and Budva were part of the Venetian Republic. The architectural similarities to Dubrovnik and Korcula are unmistakable.

We put on our bathing suits and walk to the red-sand beach. The water feels so good that we're not even tempted by a vendor's chocolate-covered fried dough balls. Clouds roll down the mountaintops, and we can hear claps of thunder as we lay in the sun.

The following morning, we take the Olimpia Express bus into Budva. After an earthquake destroyed much of the town in 1979, it was completely reconstructed and is now packed with restaurants and "ye olde" stores: Even the sex shop has a hand-carved wooden sign. Before catching the bus to Sveti Stefan, we have dinner at Jadranska Straza, a quiet spot known for its excellent squid-ink risotto and shrimp.

On our final night in Montenegro, there's a spectacular thunderstorm. From our balcony, we watch as the lightning splinters over the ocean and a yacht sails full-speed into the harbor. We head downstairs to Restaurant Drago. Our waiter serves us a pair of beautiful perch fillets. He heard that today is Leslie's birthday and wheels out a heart-shaped cake covered in sugar curlicues. As she blows out her candles, a family of sparrows chirps in the eaves above us, oblivious to the festivities below.