Part II: Switzerland and Advised Viewer Discretion

When you think of the high school reunions that you’ll attend in the future, what comes to mind? Maybe old friendships, mediocre food, and some stuffy old people?

Well, "stuffy" is about as far from the truth as it gets in Switzerland.

As I mentioned in my last post, I spent last June in Lugano, Switzerland, taking a course in microeconomics.
 

Overall, these four weeks were really different from what I was used to, primarily because this was the longest I’d traveled abroad without my family. Also, the Switalians (Swiss Italians) are like New Yorkers on crack. Or a drug that makes you really brusque and cranky.
 

Needless to say, some friends and I got into trouble when we got lost and ended up hiking for 6 hours. When we finally googled our location, it turned out we were minutes from the Milan/Swiss border, which was about a 45 minute drive from our university. I’m not really sure how that happened because it was supposed to be a straight shot down from the top.

 

But, on the way back down, we got lost in the woods, found these creepy castle things, and were confronted by some very angry Italians and their dumb private property laws. Overall, it was a very strange day.
 

Regardless of the people, this place was gorgeous. This was the view from my dorm room window.

 

Lake Lugano #nofilter
 

At the end of the course, I flew to Geneva to meet my mother. Together, we went to a place in the Swiss Alps called Villars-Sur-Ollon for her high school reunion and, let me tell you, the Swiss really know how to party.
 

Can you spot the Go-Go girls?
 

After a weekend of Swiss bread and charcuterie, cheese and chocolate fondue, macaroons and gelato, we contentedly rolled ourselves back down to the mainland to stay with one of my mother’s old friend on Estavayer le Lac, a little beach town on the shore of a huge lake.
 
Bernard, her friend, is a cheese eating and sarcastic Swiss man and a professional photographer. When I asked what exactly he photographed, he casually listed some exotic places he enjoys hang-gliding and...well, women.
 
As he mentioned this, we walked in the front door of his house only to be greeted by the floor-to-ceiling photo of an extremely naked woman.
 
Look away, you might suggest?
 
Like any proud artist, Bernard's home was decorated with scads of his photography. The kitchen, the bathroom, the guest room, the deck. Everywhere, scattered amongst normal family photos, were exhibitions of the various stages of  female youth, pregnancy, and old age.
 
While I could see how his art was an appreciation and celebration of their lady shapes, I just couldn't look at the naked woman on the fridge without giggling or averting my eyes. Maybe I'm just shy. Or immature. Or both.

Regardless of the edgy atmosphere, we had an amazing time water skiing. My mother actually forgot to mention that she is a master water skier, so my whole life has basically been a lie.

 

I’m pretty sure I’m making that face because I knew I was about to make a total fool of myself.
 

I did, but Mother Dearest couldn’t photograph any of it because her thumb kept getting in the way.

 

All in all, I think I left Switzerland ten pounds heavier and planning my early retirement.

 

And Mother made a new friend.