Lugano Be as Good as Luzern?

Lugano, Switzerland
January 7, 2011

After testing my ability to travel alone, conquering my fears of facing my thoughts head-on, and my wonderful time in Luzern, I decided to take things up a notch. I found a great "Super Saver" deal online for train tickets to Lugano, Milano and back to Zurich. Instead of another day trip, I would board a train on Friday morning and wouldn't be home until Sunday night. Three days alone and an infinite amount of mystery ahead.  I thought I was being a tad bold for booking a ticket for a train that departed from the Zurich Hauptbahnhof (main station) before sunrise, but I figured "live now, sleep later."

My train to Lugano left on Friday at exactly 6:09am like Swiss punctuality goes, but as Rebecca punctuality goes, I was not on that train. As much as I like to think I have adjusted to the Swiss clock, I have learned that you can take Rebecca out of the USA but you can't take the procrastination out of Rebecca. So, with my tail between my legs, feeling like I had already set the tone of my adventures for absolute failure, I headed to the train station to purchase a second ticket to Lugano. After shelling out money I was already short on, I thought to myself, "This definitely ups the ante and better be the best trip ever." As I waited for an hour in the rain at the station for my next departure, I made a mental note - lesson learned.


Hotel & Hostel Montarina

 After taking a "life avoidance nap" on the train, I woke up in Lugano, Switzerland at 9:30am. Upon arrival I continued the unfortunate "Failure" theme of the day in my attempts to track down a tourist information center and a hostel where I could drop off my 20lbs Rucksack and sleep for the upcoming night. Now, I don't know if it is the general lack of tourists in Lugano, the Swiss/Italian culture, or some unknown deep-seated dislike of Americans, but everyone I encountered in my first hour in Lugano was less than helpful. From the train station employee, to the people on the streets, to the women in the tourist office, the local always responded to my questions with the shortest, most direct answer possible without daring to elaborate and risk revealing any extra facts might prove useful in my quest. So with the general lack of knowledge I acquired, I spent the first two hours in Lugano wandering in circles, retracing my steps up and down a steep hill, and studying my picture-book tourist map as if a more detailed street map would magically appear if I stared hard enough. Luckily after my second trip up and down the massive Lugano hill, I found a locker to ditch my backpack and finally had located my bed for the evening. Now 20lbs lighter and with the security of shelter for the night, I finally began my exploration of Lugano.

I have said numorous times in the past that I love the history of Europe. What is ironic is that I have taken many history classes in the span of my education, all of which I hated and none from which I chose to retain any long-term information. But once I am surrounded by an undeniable presence of years past I can't help but get lost in my imagination of the untold stories hiding in the cracks of the walls, the carvings over the doors, and the worn cobblestone paths. It is almost as if being in an old city forces you to forget about the hussle and bustle of modern day lifestyle and adapt to the simple way life that had been lived hundreds of years ago. The craftmanship and care that was devoted to every task is reflected in the details of architecture, the pattern of the walkways, and the atmosphere in the air. When looking at a door, or a window, or a wall, there is no presence of mass-produced products that were placed only to serve their function and nothing more. Instead, each object is a one-of-a-kind piece of art, carefully designed and crated for that building, for that entry, for that street. And without the technology of today I know that someone poured over their work for hours, days, and weeks to make it something utterly unique for someone else to marvel. And like any artist knows, a piece of work is a small piece of their soul in tangible form that was created to for others to appreciate. So while walking around an old city, it is only natural to stop and pay attention to the details, if not to just look at something beautiful but to pay tribute to the lives that were invested in creating the very thing you see.

Chiesa di Santa Maria degli Angioli

What I also love about old cities is that the unexpected is enevitable yet it remains a secret until it is discovered. Each time another treasure is uncovered it seems more remarkable than the last. It is almost like everywhere you go you can be sure to find the best-kept secret, but until you actually seek the unknown you will never know what you will find. While I was weaving my way through the streets of Lugano, taking pictures of surprise after surprise, I came to the end of the winding streets of Old Town and stumbled upon a church. From the exterior it seemed very understated and plain and since a majority of the structure was concealed by scaffoldings for obvious restoration, I almost decided to walk on by. However, when I noticed some people leaving the church, for some unknown reason, I decided to go inside. My breath was immediately taken away when I entered the doors and was met face to face with the largest and most exquisite fresco of the crucifixion. It spanned the entire width of the church and more than half of the height of the ceiling. I was completely alone in the sanctuary and felt like I had a secret VIP viewing of a masterpiece. After spending some time sitting in the pews and studying each detail of the painting, an overwhelming feeling of God's grace and faithfulness came over me. The weight of the morning's failures were lifted from my shoulders and replaced with a blanket of peace and serenity. Even though I am a Christian, I have scarcely participated in the traditions of Catholicism but in that moment I felt the conviction to light a prayer candle as a representation of my thankfulness for God's provisions.



Painting by Bernadino Luini (1529)


Once I had spent what seemed like hours in the church I decided to continue my adventures outside. I like to think that the long hidden staircase alongside the church was a gift from God built just for me a hunded years past with the foreshadowing of the moment when I would stumble upon it in my feeling of complete surrender this very morning. I headed up the staircase, which must have had over a couple hundred steps, to find what was at the top. Well of course, when I reached the top of the hill I had a wonderful overlook of the town of Lugano - or what you could see of Lugano. I know from my previous travels here six years ago that Lugano has a view of amazing terrain on the other side of the lake, but just my luck the weather from the previous day of rain and fog had traveled to Lugano and all I could see were the rooftops of the buildings in front of a backdrop of misty grey. So I continued my walk on the top of the hill, taking pictures of the architecture along the way until I found myself back at the train station for the third time. I decided to head back down the hill, again, but this time to wander along the shore of the lake. I still couldn't see very far across the lake as a result of the weather, but as a blessing in desguise I was able to take some pretty amazing photographs anyways.

In the late afternoon I was forced to take a break after draining my camera battery. I decided to retrieve my backpack from the locker, check into my room at the hostel, and continue my adventures later that evening. After a much needed break from walking, recharging of the camera battery, and essential drying of my socks, I headed back into Old Town to find some dinner. Unfortunately I am not one to eat in a restaurant by myself and wound up working myself into a mood of self-pity and lonliness. After about 30 minutes of inner arguments, I decided to walk into the first restaurant I saw and order myself a glass of wine. It wasn't long after I sat down at my table that a couple of guys at the neighboring table noticed my foreign-ness and struck up a conversation. I came to find out that they were celebrating a birthday and it wasn't long after a few more friends had arrived that I found myself adopted into the party. After lots of drinks and appetizers I had made a new set of friends and partied until the last members of the group left gave me a ride back to my hostel. I had a few hours of sleep before I had to wake up (extra early this time) to catch my train to Milano, Italy....