authentic canada goose jackets

'Please don't make a noise," says an agitated commuter after we raucously board the train to Zurich. She points to a sign depicting an index finger pressed to lips, and the words Quiet Zone. Not even cellphones and MP3 players with earphones are permitted. We surrender to silence for two hours after leaving the Swiss town of Visp.

Disciplined, responsible behaviour and polished etiquette are held in high regard in Switzerland. The Swiss are obsessed with time-keeping. They are neutral during war, and in matters of public importance they vote by referendum. The country prides itself on the rail network that connects the 26 cantons. The best way to travel, I spend many hours in train carriages during a six-night trip in the twilight of the Swiss winter.

The journey is split into three parts: the tranquil Lake Geneva region (and home to a special vintage wine-making tradition in Lavaux, where the sloped vineyards have been declared a Unesco heritage site); the car-free ski village of Zermatt (and home of the imposing shark-toothed Matterhorn and 37 other 4 000m peaks); and the bustling hub of Zurich, home to the second highest standard of living in the world.

In Switzerland, watches (big ones) decorate most wrists, and clocks tick on most walls. You will find: specialist chocolate, Swiss army knife and cheese shops in the modern streets and narrow cobbled roadways; extreme budget-averse price tags; and snow falling on the Alps and lesser known Jura mountain range.

I am shocked to find cheval steak – horse meat imported from Canada – sharing the menu with traditional dishes such as cheese fondues, Rosti potato pancakes and Le papet vaudois (sausage, leek and potatoes).

My biggest shock comes when I put the world-renowned Swiss emergency ski rescue to the test after losing control plunging down a blue, allegedly easy, run at Zermatt, below the Matterhorn.

We use the centuries-old town of Vevey overlooking Lake Geneva as first base. We tour the nearby business city of Lausanne. We eat perch and pomme frites (fish and chips) on the shore. We taste white wine from local Chasselas grapes.

Rain falls as we hit the stone-walled wine slopes at St Saphorin in the Lavaux region, where vines clasp the steep terraces. We seek shelter in the Vinorama, which offers tasting for about 230 local varietals. The charming director, Sandra Joye, shows passion for her work. She pours wine and samples it with us. We leave more than three hours later, pushing her to reveal her favourite wine. "I am Swiss, I don't have an opinion," she says mischievously.

Tour guide Nadia Ismail explains that Joye's appreciation for wine expresses the French-Swiss culture. "Unlike the German-Swiss, the French-Swiss often drink wine with every meal," she says while showing us the Vevey promenade.

Looking over Lake Geneva, which the French-Swiss stubbornly refer to as Lac Leman, Ismail explains that they are not French but are different from German-Swiss. She says the French-Swiss are seen as the Greeks of Switzerland. "The cliché is that German-Swiss see us as having no rules, and we see them as rigid. But at the end of the day, we are all Swiss."

A statue of Charlie Chaplin is a landmark on the promenade. Exiled from the US during the McCarthy era, his grave lies nearby at Corsier-sur-Vevey.

"Switzerland is a place of refugees," says Ismail, adding that Boer leader Paul Kruger died in nearby Clarens.

Snow falls when we arrive at our second base, Zermatt, after a two-hour train journey. Thermal gear and padded jackets insulate us from the freeze.

We ride the cable car to the Matterhorn Glacier Paradise, walking through tunnels surrounded by ice sculptures in the chiselled palace.