LUGANO, Switzerland — Which is it, Swiss or Italian?
We are debating just that, while licking a cone of the world’s best gelato and taking in a vista of the Swiss Alps. By the sound of things–Italian is the main language spoken here–we’re in Italy. And we’re wandering through cobblestone plazas with names like Piazza della Reforma and Piazza Indipendenza, where people are eating pizza with paper-thin crust and sipping red wine. But those snow-capped peaks in the distance throw us off, as does the proliferation of banks and the tidy, fresh-scrubbed feel of the place. Definitely Swiss.
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Here in Lugano, in Switzerland’s Ticino region along the border with Italy, it’s a little of both cultures, with some extra thrown in. Palm trees sway in a warm, tropical breeze. Pint-sized, two-seater cars called Smart Cars buzz around like gnats. Funiculars, those counterbalanced rail cars pulled on cables, whisk people up and down hillsides. And Lake Lugano spreads out, glittering and jewel blue, at the foot of the city.
We are here for two days. My husband, who had a business conference in Munich, met me at the Zurich airport. From there, we hopped a train for the three-hour ride to Lugano. We’re staying at a no-frills hotel conveniently located just down the hill from the main train station, on the edge of Lugano’s old town. We checked in, then went for a stroll to get the lay of the land.
Lugano is a city made for walking. With its sprawling pedestrian zone of narrow streets, produce markets and bakeries, and a rambling waterfront park filled with sculptures, fountains and flowers, it’s hard to resist. A balmy climate and a strategic location on a lake between the San Salvatore and Monte Bre peaks have made it a magnet for artists and tourists since the first railway opened in the late 19th Century. Ernest Hemingway (“For Whom the Bell Tolls,” “A Farewell to Arms”) and Hermann Hesse (“Steppenwolf”) both spent time here.
Strolling through the Parco Civico, along the lakeshore, we stop to admire a huge fountain that’s spraying a flume of water 10 stories high. We cross the street to poke our heads into the Chiesa Santa Maria degli Angioli (Church of St. Mary of the Angels), where you can see a fresco painted in 1529 by Bernardino Luini, a painter from Lombardy. Some say his work, including this piece, “The Crucifixion,” is as good as that of Leonardo da Vinci.
Back on the waterfront, we wander past the public beach (sadly, it’s too cold and windy to swim) and hop a ferry (the cost was covered by our Swiss Saver rail pass) for an hour tour around Lake Lugano. We sit on the top deck of the two-story boat, the wind whipping our hair, as we zoom across the lake, stopping at lakeside villages. Some, like the romantic, tiered town of Gandria, 3 miles east of Lugano, are built right onto the sides of mountains. Another, Campioni Italia, where a popular casino draws reams of tourists, is Italian territory.
On the way back to the hotel for some much-needed sleep, we wander past chic shops and quaint restaurants, stopping for a pizza of our own. (Dog-haters beware; as is true in much of Europe, well-mannered pups are welcome at most restaurants.)
The next morning, mostly recovered from jetlag, we walk 20 minutes to the Paradisio neighborhood. There, we buy one-way tickets for the 12-minute ride up the funicular to the top of Monte San Salvatore, at 2,991 feet. As the red, cable-drawn car zips us up the steep hillside, the city unfolds beneath us. That towering fountain that looked so big yesterday becomes a tiny Q-Tip. Church steeples shrink to the size of children’s toys.
At the top, we stop at the patio to sip a mimosa and drink in the sights. And what a view it is!
From the terrace, a short walk leads us even higher, to a 13th Century church perched on a craggy cliff. We wonder how in the world it was built, especially without modern technology. We climb the stairs to the church roof and I twirl in circles, taking in the sweeping, 360-degree panorama of the Swiss and Savoy Alps. Around us, lush green mountains contrast with crystal blue lakes. Birds glide below, riding the air currents. We pick out more than a dozen small towns and discover that a smudge in the distance is really Milan.
We peer off into oblivion for a few minutes. I feel a bit wobbly-legged from the height (thoughtfully my husband doesn’t poke fun), so we descend the stairs and begin the long march back to Lugano. (Less adventurous sightseers can take the funicular back down.) A few more lookout points along the way leave me dizzy–I never did feel comfortable standing on sheer cliffs, and Switzerland has plenty of those. But the stupendous views keep drawing me to the brink.
It takes two hours to walk down the trail, which winds its slowpoke way through forests of chestnut trees. Around every bend, we get a new glimpse of Lugano, the lakes or far off into Italy. We stop three or four times just to soak up the scenery and sip water. Near the bottom, where the cliffs melt into rolling hillsides, we pass a vineyard. Lizards sun themselves on rocks lining the path, and I stop every few minutes to inspect a new kind of flower I’ve never seen before.
At the bottom, we find a small cafe and order bruschetta–slices of bread as big as dinner plates, topped with peppers and melted cheese. For dessert, another trip to the gelateria in the park for a scoop of that deep red, intense berry flavor of “frutti de bosco.” Definitely Italian.
Then we look up at the mountain we’ve just descended, the crisp blue backdrop of a sky, and the white and gray mountains fading into the distance.
Italy? No way. This is Switzerland.
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Information on Lugano is available at Lugano Tourism at www.lugano-tourism.ch. Swiss Tourism information is at 877-794-8037; www.myswitzerland.com.