SNAP YOUR fingers in Switzerland, and a train swooshes up like a hailed taxi.

Well, almost. Rarely did we wait more than 10 minutes for a train, and always we found easy connections to towns and even to hiking trails way up in the mountains.

My 20-year-old son, Ethan, and I were traveling on Swiss Flexipasses, so we never had to bother with buying tickets. The shiny, quiet Swiss trains, with their plush seats that made it so easy to simply gaze out at green meadows and alpine chalets, sure beat the drudgery of rental car travel.

Our fun with trains started as soon as we got off the plane in Zurich. The train station is right in the airport, just down the escalator from the terminal. Jet-lag always lends a surreal tilt to the world, but we thought we had stepped into the future as beautiful gleaming trains glided with a soft hiss, barely a sound, into the sparkling clean station.

Initially, we were based in touristy Interlaken. It's a good Swiss sampler, with easy access to the mountains and plenty of shops selling cuckoo clocks and Swiss army knives. French, German and English are spoken, so you feel instantly at home.

Plus, Interlaken (which means "between lakes") is a good spot for launching a hiking vacation. To get to the hiking trail, just hop a train.

It's a funny concept, isn't it -- trains nosing their way among the wildflowers, chugging up the mountainside. But these are the little engines that could.

We took a train ride to the top of Jungfraujoch, which at 11,333 feet boasts Europe's highest railway station. It took three trains to get there from Interlaken, with transfers that connected almost immediately to the next train, easy as pie. The trains were all about views, everything you think Switzerland will be -- gemlike blue lakes set in valleys of brilliant green, shadowed by brutish snow-capped peaks. Above, white clouds look too fat to float over the jagged peaks without getting popped.

The Jungfraujoch cogwheel train departs from Kleine Scheidegg, a little mountainside station, and chugs up steep terrain with views down into great green valleys, then up through a long tunnel.

At the top, in the observation building, voila! -- snow-capped peaks all around. Except we missed that voila! moment. A cloud had squatted on the mountaintop, which is not uncommon, and visibility was zero. For the lucky visitors who do get the view, visibility can extend into France's Jura mountain region and Germany's Black Forest.

We could have chosen to ski on the glacier, or take a sled dog ride at Jungfraujoch.

Instead we picked another bad weather option -- pommes frittes. French fries may be the best-kept Swiss secret besides bank account numbers. Swiss fries are yellow and mouth-watering. You can also enjoy potatoes in rosti, a hearty toss of diced fried potatoes, onions and cheese, plus your choice of mixings -- bratwurst or a vegetable.

Of course, we hadn't come to Switzerland to eat. Or at least not just to eat.

We wanted to hike.

So with the no-show of the mountain peaks, we hopped the Jungfraujoch train back down the hill and got on with the hiking.

I had trouble believing this train-to-hiking-trail concept would work until I actually did it. The train stopped at the Eiger trail, we jumped off, and then gawked as we made our way along, snow-capped peaks above us, green valley below. We walked a trail, flower-lined as if for a bride. Our mountain companions were soft brown cows clanking bells and periodically our little train, rumbling out of the tunnel.

At one point I heard a rumble and turned to look for the train.

"Look, an avalanche!" my son said.

I missed seeing the actual avalanche, but the jumbled field of snow on the glacier told the story.

On another day of hiking, we took the train from Interlaken to Schynige Platte, a couple of short train rides from Interlaken. The ride up gives gaspingly gorgeous views of the turquoise lakes on either side of Interlaken. The train windows glide up and down easily, allowing quick access for camera bugs. Like everything in Switzerland, things that are supposed to work a certain way always do.

From Schynige Platte, great hiking trails abound. The biggest draw is a 60-minute hike, clearly marked in English with the words "one hour." Atop is a 360-degree view of surrounding peaks. Walking the trail is something of a pilgrimage, popular with parents carrying toddlers in backpacks, elderly hikers with canes, smokers and overweight hikers huffing their way uphill. But what could be a better cure than a view of jagged mountains and azure lakes that sends you into silent awe.

Drip, drop

Our grand hiking ambitions were scuttled by the rainstorms that pump the green glow into Swiss meadows. While in Interlaken, we had two days of nonstop downpour, the same storm that flooded Prague, Czech Republic, and Dresden, Germany. Hiking was impossible but our Swiss Flexipass was also good for a boat trip, so we took a ride across misty Lake Brienz to Ballenberg, an open-air museum of 90 rural Swiss houses from several centuries. With umbrellas fending off most of the downpour, we tromped the wooded acreage and were charmed by Swiss chalets and gardens and farm houses with thatched roofs.

We also visited the remarkable Swiss Expo.02 taking place through Oct. 20 in four lakeside cities: Biel, Neuchatel, Morat and Yverdon-les-Bains. The exposition is a once-every-25-years event in this country, and a tribute to Swiss inventiveness. One day at the Expo I found myself "training" like an elite athlete in a simulated Tour de France. Another day we rode in giant grocery carts through an exhibit called "Strangers in Paradise."

To get around to the different Expo.02 cities, we hopped the train, the real tribute to Swiss inventiveness. Besides legendary precision schedules -- 10:36 a.m. means exactly that -- I also found myself surprised that things always work. Door latches do as they're supposed to; windows go up and down; water faucets turn on; toilets flush.

It gives you a lot of confidence that the train won't derail.

Next time I visit this country, I'll stay in a smaller village, knowing how easy it will be, given the interconnectivity of trains and buses and boats, and the graciousness and English-speaking skills of the Swiss. Interlaken is a good beginner's guide to Switzerland, but in Interlaken, as in all tourist towns, there are cracks in the veneer. On the one hand, we met the classic little old Swiss watch repairman, who shook his head sadly that he was unable to fix the cracked crystal on Ethan's Swiss watch, but for no charge buffed the crystal and improved it greatly.

On the other hand, our Interlaken hotelier was unpleasant, and at one restaurant in Interlaken, I almost walked out after the owner was rude to a dark-skinned couple with an infant, who finally got the message they weren't wanted, put on their coats dejectedly and walked back out into the pouring rain.

Elsewhere, in Biel, Yverdon-les-Bains and Zurich, Swiss graciousness prevailed. The customer in the chocolate shop who bid us goodbye as he was doing so with the clerk was a typical experience.

Swiss chocolate. You knew this story would get around to it.

We made only small forays into chocolate shops during the trip, waiting until the end to buy for the multitude of beggars back home. The final assault was at Teuscher, in Zurich. Ethan picked a selection for his girlfriend, and I carefully chose my husband's favorite caramels and nutty chocolates.

Nibbling some samples as we headed from the shop, we stopped. Ethan suddenly remember he had another girl friend. And I thought of a deserving pal.

We went back in and bought more.

Swiss chocolate is not comparable to any other. Unless you use the same adjectives that apply to the trains -- glides silently on your tongue, reaches into every corner of your mouth.

Anne Chalfant is the Times travel editor. She can be reached at 925-943-8192 or at achalfant@cctimes.com.