Fresh mountain air and cheese galore

In Scaiano's cobbled alleyways

Ah Switzerland. Do people really live like this for real? Amongst cobbled streets, ancient stone walls, muted pastels and vibrant window boxes. Perched on ridges with backdrops of mountains, old paved footpaths, flaking frescos and always a church spire. In villages with families that have called this village home for generations, bolstered by old money and new technologies. And milking their bell-laden cows fed on lush wild flowers in alpine fresh air beside crystal clean mountain streams, tended by heavily subsidised mountain people who make boutique cheeses for the wealthy consumers at low altitudes.

In Switzerland the buses run on time and the trains have clean toilets. The taps and locks work. The people talk with their mouths and not with their hands. They are more measured and exacting, contained and clean. They have the security of knowing their country is not about to go under, their money is not running out. They have the pride of knowing their country is beautiful and it will be kept that way because they have the resources and the strategy. They are not overrun with people (although this issue is debated and is a rising problem) and their systems are such that they can efficiently and effectively exclude people without developing a mean-spirited reputation while looking after those they have chosen.

Chris and Emily (friends from Christchurch) and their kids, Ngaire (7) and Hannah (4) are living near Zurich for 6 months  (their kids are in school there) and we joined them along with Emily's parents, Dick and Nell, who were doing a grand tour of Europe and visiting Chris and Emily at the same time.

Turns out we were not staying in Lugano - for those of you who checked the map. Chris and Emily had found (online) a stone house in a small mountain village called 'Scaiano' (sky-ahno) - and the house was aptly named 'La Tortue' - The tortoise. This turned out to be an apt name since the only really practical (car-less) way to get to the tiny village was to wind our way up a small ancient path littered with chestnut shells and falling leaves from the main road at the pace of a tortoise (the road was much longer and probably more dangerous with small pedestrians).

The house was gorgeous - restored about 7 years earlier, it had white washed walls, a modern kitchen, 4 bedrooms all decked out with comfortable ikea beds, exposed wooden beams and polished concrete floors. We had the choice of three dining areas and ate out on the stone deck (which sat on top of a lower floor) most nights, accompanied by the odd bat flittering in the street light. The view looked over Lake (Lago) Maggiore and across to the towns of Locarno, Ascona and the villages inbetween.
Scaiano was the 'real Swiss deal'. Ancient stone houses, a warren of tight little alleyways, surprisingly steep old cobbled 'roads' (or 'ways'), no shop/bar/restaurant and many hundreds of steps. A favourite old lady of the village had died the month before and a 'shrine' type corner had been arranged with flowers and pictures and lit candles to remember her.
Some of the houses lacked inhabitants and had been left to degrade, but one or two were in the amazing process of being restored - it was a beautiful sight to see: something old being given new life with high quality materials and craftsmanship.

Turns out we were amazingly close to the Italian border - so close that Chris, Emily, Rory and I went out for Pizza one night in Italy (we walked) while Emily's parents (Dick and Nell) babysat the kids. We even ventured into Italy for a day at the Luino market - a relatively overwhelming experience with possibly thousands of people bustling between many many stalls to buy clothes, shoes, food (meat, cheeses), handbags and other wares.

On our first full day, we walked to the next village for the 'Chestnut festival'. Being Autumn, the chestnut season was in full swing and we joined the locals for roasted chestnuts (see photos), wine and cakes made out of chestnut variations. 

Festiva da Castania (Chestnut festival)

Probably the highlight of our week was our 'mountain day'. We left in thick fog (Rory took an advance party of the four kids at 8.30am) to head up to the high village (Centro Campi) which is inhabited during the warmer months and mostly abandoned for the winter. The cobbled road was amazingly steep but the kids toddled up the hill - bouyed by the excitement of finding a 'fire salamander' (a toxic amphibian coloured black and yellow) which Silas picked up before being given strong directions to put it back down. We reached the village still in thick fog and all wondered whether we should abandon the plan but took a cheese, bread and salami break in a thatched roof hut to boost the energy levels.  As we headed up out of the village - the sun started streaming through the fog and we could look across to the mountains across the lake - it was gorgeous .....its gonna be a bright, bright sun shining day....and it was (see the photo). 

From here we traversed around the side of the mountain through regenerated (but large), surprisingly open beech and chestnut forest. Eventually the track started to descend to another high village - seemingly uninhabited other than two men who were clearing the track (we later discovered the track was 'closed' because of this!) and two bell-jangling friendly cows. At this point we stopped - illegally lit a camp fire and learned the fine art of whittling sticks with swiss army knives in order to cook sausages over the fire (Swiss kids have a forest day once a week when they are younger and they cook sausages over the fire for morning tea!).

Have to admit – that yes I was wrong about wanting to be in old towns, surrounded by tempting shops with no money to spend in them and the hazards of losing kids, tired kids who don’t want to sightsee and the pointlessness of wandering that you sometimes feel. It was our best day in the mountains – full of beautiful views, getting a feel for the Swiss forest and swiss mountain village life. And most of the all the kids were happy almost all day (Gwilym tired by the end of the day but only after about 7 hours walking). And also ironically - the worst injuries the kids got were while playing in towns not skipping down steep mountain paths. 

Rory, Gwilym and Chris near the end of the mountain day - heading for home

On two other days - we did however, hit the towns. On one day we caught the bus and train to Locarno (a pretty lake-side town and holiday destination) and we met up with Emily's cousin (a kiwi with a swiss partner) who has a holiday (weekends etc) apartment right next to the train station. She was being visited by her brother and his wife from Tauranga. We all walked up a steep winding cobbled track to see Madonna da Sasso ( a famous church perched precipitously on a hillside). We enjoyed a lunch of cheese, bread and salami - like all of our lunches except the selection included: Roquefort and Tomme from France, Emmentaler and Gruyere from Switzerland, Parmesan and gorganzola from Italy....was that all? 
It was a fabulous view of the Lake below from the courtyard and accompanying adults (excepting Chris, Emily, Rory and myself) volunteered to take the kids back down while we went for a stomp up the hill. It was a lovely walk in the sunshine but I spent some of the time reflecting on Gwilym and realising that I have a relatively chronic level of anxiety about Gwilym here (losing him, injuries, poisoning - he still puts everything into his mouth, dealing with melt-downs). Leaving him with adults who didn't really know him didn't remove that although it was nice to have a break. 
On our reunion with the kids it was such a boost to come back and find out that they had really ENJOYED him but they had been amazed at his energy and his ability to run away, get into mischief. He had kept a pile of adults intensely busy, entertained and amazed (all the adults were older and had grown up kids) and best of all, I felt like I had been given some recognition as his parent for the level of energy required to be with him all day!
The quote of the day came from Gwilym who was asked by David (Emily's cousin from NZ) what he wanted to be when he grew up? "Three and a half" replied Gwilym.

Our other town day involved a day on the ferry boats. Our village lay on the opposite side to the big tourist towns so we caught a bus to the ferry and spent the day shuttling back and forth across the lake and visiting the two main towns. Ascona was the first stop and it turned out to be a beautiful place. It is well known as a shopping destination for those with piles of money and a mecca for successful artists. There were many lovely galleries with original paintings and sculptures for sale and the main street was lined with some amazing sculptures.

It is definately a balancing act travelling with kids. Mostly it is not ideal to drag small kids around cobbled streets and through awe-inspiring churches but then, why not? If you only ever take them to practical places that are safe, we would spend all of our time doing tours of universal playgrounds and we may as well be in New Zealand.

 But taking them into shops with too many expensive, breakable items of beauty is just plain stupid. I am gradually learning to relinquish my desire to 'shop' and questioning the point of it all although it is a powerful attraction that takes some prising out of my stubborn hands. I'm not letting the coffee-drinking habit go yet though. Its cheap here and for the price of a coffee (90 euro cents in Italy) you get a toilet as well!
Sadly our two worst injuries occurred in Ascona - a head injury for Silas and Gwilym. Gwilym slipped off Rory's piggyback and clonked his head hard on a stone step. No head injury signs, so once the crying settled down, we carried on. Silas, however, fell off a sculpture we had already identified as a hazard, and neither of us saw his fall. It was a metal sculpture and he had a cut to his head which hadn't come open but very close to it. It was a sickening feeling to round the corner with Emily to a distinctly worrying cry and find him been surrounded by a group of women and cradled by Rory. He cried for a long time and had a big bump at the base of his head but again, no other worrying, ongoing signs. As a mother, I spend a long time kicking myself but have to accept that these things can and will happen.

Ascona Lake front

But, thank God, the week was free of injuries other than this and full of happy times and memories. Watching the kids play together (and for both lots, enjoying chatting away without language barriers), having good conversations with friends, sharing meals and food in some lovely settings and being in the mountains rather than a smoggy city were highlights. Also, it was wonderful having Dick and Nell as extra pairs of hands and they did a stellar job at allowing us little breaks - even to look in a shop or examine a stall in peace, as well as being an extra pair of eyes for our boys!

To see photos of our recent trip to Switzerland - click on the link below to take you to an album!
https://picasaweb.google.com/102294631942077613955/SwitzerlandForay?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCMqnxrrJuunUEQ&feat=directlink