I feel I would be remiss if I did not mention some of my recent experiences in Switzerland, but there also are some issues and events here in South Valley, so I’ll attempt to split the column accordingly. After some short observations and experiences of my time in Ticino, I will end with a message for a select group; the author of the message was very emphatic I pass it along.
I am not good at taking photos with my cell phone, well actually I’m not good at remembering to take photos with my cell phone. For that reason I have very few to show those folks who are interested. And for those people I know on social media who would like to see a couple of shots of their descendants land, most of whom have traveled their to visit with Ticino Swiss-Italians (I’ll offer a definition of that designation at the end of this part), I know there is way of transferring phone photos to one’s modem and posting them on, in my case, Facebook, but it is a process beyond my tech savvy, so unless I get the high school kid next door to guide me through it, no photo will appear anywhere but on my phone. That was a long introduction to the Ugly American and how to avoid being that particular creature.
I’m fairly sure Marlon Brando played the lead in a movie by the same name, but the present usage of the Ugly American refers to behaviors and attitudes exhibited my many folks visiting from the good ol’ USofA. One example is what I just mentioned, taking photos. It isn’t appreciated by locals or tourists from European nations; this little bit of information was given to me by four policemen on a boat myself and my sponsor and some 20 other people were on heading from Locarno to Ascona to ?????.
I had asked Walter (I’ll get to Walter in just a bit) to ask the policemen if I could take their picture mostly because of the uniforms of the Ticino law enforcement officers. It was something between a regular pants, shirt and a full-on SWAT team suit, with black on those parts that one would deem “tough,” the formidable looking footwear, the utility belt with an array of weaponry and restraint gear to a shoulder yoke. The rest of the uniform, most of the upper, buttonless shirt and most of the pants, were a bright blue, like the sky on a sunny day; a color that made the officers more approachable than some uniforms we’ve seen. One officer responded that while I was certainly free to snap away, they preferred I did not. So I didn’t. (Note: Not only were the uniforms very eye-catching, so were the men inside them. Not to put too fine a point on it, but in America these four guys would probably end up on a calendar where each month they would lose another piece of that uniform until by December ladies from 18 to 118 would be having a merry, merry time. But I digress.)
I supposed there was some departmental memo addressing officers posing for photos as opposed to just randomly ending up in one. But no, it is an attitude maintained by locals and most visitors that capturing their images should not be done without permission; which is usually, I gathered, granted when done with a purpose. For example, I wanted to take a photo of a couple walking their dogs along the embarcadero of Lake Maggiori. The man was tall, very erect with an air of confidence about him, the lady was not at all that much shorter but was just a bit looser, spryer in her movements and actions. Together they strolled along, the man tethered to a mid-sized spaniel of some sort, the lady’s leash attached to a beautiful animal, though mutt it may have been; they did not converse much and when they did more often than not it ended with a chuckle from one or both. That couple by my estimation were in their 80s, and high 80s at that. Very striking people; but not for random photos.
Now, while I avoided the label Ugly American in most respects there is one area where I went full tilt boogie into being just that person. Tipping. Both Walt and his friend Paolo, as well as some social media sites I researched prior, advised that tipping was not done; the Swiss are very proud of the wages they pay service personnel. OK, I get that; nonetheless, I tipped and found that the only people advocating not tipping are those in no position to get a tip. Let me cite instances that come to mind: In the hotel restaurant, La Bahia, I tipped 4 francs for a 21 franc hamburger, for a 17-franc pizza at Mama Mia the tip was 3 francs and some change and later at that same restaurant tipped 6 francs each for Ossobuco, 37 francs and Filete, 36 francs. In every case I was warmly thanked; and at Mama Mia most of the staff greeted me though they had never waited on me. People like money, sure; but they also like being recognized for doing their job well. Don’t we all.
OK, just took a word count and it seems I won’t have space enough for any local references but just enough space remaining to get the message out. Here it is: From Walter Togni to all West Lombardi speaking people (Swiss-Italians from Ticino); “If you are retired and your parents or grandparents were from Canton Ticino, you have dual citizenship, and I urge you to spend your retirement years here in your ancestral land. The government treats old people much better that does America; the U.S. is a great place to live when we are young; Ticino is a great place to live when you are old. You will love it here.” There you have it.
Take care. Peace.
