It seems that the best part of traveling is watching the scenery from your cabin. It began to rain heavily as I went north into the Alps toward Lake Como in June, 1972; Europe had not seen such wet weather in 39 years. I could not take any pictures because the train was jolting around so much, but the scenery was breath taking. I noticed rock slab plates that the farmers turned on end for fence posts. Lake Lugano, next to Lake Como, was beautiful with sailboats gliding across it as feathers across glass. There were the most beautiful flowers, lake marinas, and pastel villas with their characteristic terra cotta roofs. I knew only the rich and famous lived and played there and I often wondered what they did for a living.
When I crossed the Swiss-Italian border at Chiasso near Como the difference in quality of life really hit me. Immediately I noticed swimming pools, gas stations, decent uncluttered housing, and a more polite higher class of people. Cars were bigger and were of a better quality. People look well groomed and cleaner. I also passed within about ten miles of where Benito Mussolini and his mistress, Clara Petacci, were captured west of Dongo practically on the Swiss border. They gave him a “fair trial” and then hanged him - literally.
As I approached Zurich from the mountain passes, tunnels, and the Zuger See I saw soldiers with machine guns marching across a wooden bridge. Their camouflage had a weird color combination of brown, green, and orange. In Zurich, soldiers and civilians carry automatic weapons even to the outside drinking places where you have to unfortunately stand. For the first time I saw guns for sale. The Swiss don't put up with any nonsense and realize that because of their smallness, everyone has to serve in the military. Their history is not the William Tell story Americans so often hear about. The Swiss natural history museum in Zurich gives testimony to their bloody martial past: shields, daggers, banners, and cannon. That iron crossbow dart I saw was not the type William Tell used. It could have gone through the thickest armor.
The Swiss are to me unmatched in their efficiency and their attention to detail. The currency exchange window and the Swiss tourist office are staffed with multilingual girls who are courteous and make tourists feel welcome. The French and the Italians could learn a lot from these front line ambassadors. I enjoyed having good meals, walking the long wooden lake jetty flanked by swans and even peering through elite shop windows at the gold and diamonds of Europe’s most prestigious jewelers. Art Buchwald became a favorite of mine in Zurich after I bought an International Herald Tribune.
When I managed to get a room in the youth hostel, I met a Jewish fellow from upstate New York. He was bunked next to me and we had a long talk before he went out on the town. His parents had sent him away with plenty of money and a baggage train of five suitcases - entirely too much for one person and comically out of place among backpackers. It was his first time in a youth hostel. He was really mad at his parents and said they didn't want him around. His vocabulary mostly consisted of four letter words and the 1960s repertory of “Dig it, Hey man, freak out,” and the obligatory "Cool." I probably would have sent him away too because he was arrogant and abrasive. He was the first case I remember where the parents were running away from the kid.
