Swiss News is reporting that this is the wettest July ever, at least since Switzerland began recording weather data. Interesting to discover that the first published weather reports were published in 1878 only after pressure from the Federal Government. The 88 Swiss weather stations had entered into service in 1863 but the general population had no access to these reports. It was the farmers who asked the Federal Council to make daily weather forecasts available to all. The first published report in June 1878 sounds like today’s forecast: Continuation of the unsettled weather with a tendency to light showers – just change “light” to heavy showers and it’s the same today. Last night we had crashing tides of thunder; this morning, for the entire morning, we had rumbling, grumbling mutterings of thunder. It reminded me of a dog slowly, steadily growling. And rain, rain, rain. Usually the entire month of July registers a rainfall of 150 mm; in the last 24 hours Ticino has gotten 130 mm.

Bad weather rolling in

Window display at Goette Optik on Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich

Screen image of Credit Suisse Bancomat

Window display at Landolt-Arbenz on Bahnhofstrasse

The final game of the World Cup is being played as I write, and it made me think of Switzerland’s participation. I am not a soccer follower at all, but my husband and our two sons certainly are, and so I pay a certain amount of attention. It’s hard not to pay attention to the World Cup, because, as seen in just two of the window displays on Bahnhofstrasse, EVERYONE is following the World Cup. My husband, not a nationalistic type at all, I have never known him to fly the Swiss flag for example, hung this banner from our terrace:
Since we are in Switzerland, the accompanying text is in 3 languages: Wir alle sind das Team; L’equipe, c’est nous tous; La squadra siamo tutti noi — in other words, we are the team. Switzerland made it through to the second game, but lost to Argentina. The country had been so unified in their support of the team, and more remarkably, seemed even more proud and more solid in the support of the team following their defeat. The Achterkette Blog in the Neue Zurcher Zeitung wrote that their super strength wasn’t enough (for a win) but that the team were heroes nonetheless. The national team was praised for their tough defence and strong unity.

Screen message of Credit Suisse Bancomat: Only winning would have been more wonderful. Thank you for giving everything you had.

It could also be seen as a representative of how an immigrant population can be integrated even in a country as tiny as Switzerland. When it is remarked on that there are very few members of the national team who are originally Swiss, the return comment comes back, well, Switzerland has a foreign population of more than 23%. Within Ian Lovett’s report in the New York Times was a posting by Andrew Das who wrote “Something tells me Gelson Fernandes didn’t grow up in lederhosen.” In fact, he was born in Cape Verde but arrived in Switzerland when he was 5. More than half of the Swiss team have dual nationalities. At a time when the SVP (Swiss Peoples Party) anti-immigration policies seem to gain more and more momentum, as with the success of their referendum extending immigration quotas (my posting from February 13), it is heartening to see the whole-hearted, whole nation support of our very international Swiss National Team.

           Home Again, Home Again

Goodness, I have been away for most of the last two months; now that I am back home in Switzerland, my summer resolution is to post things more regularly.

Each time that I go back to America, ideas seem to percolate. I am going to start grouping little moments that have caught my eye under ‘Pause to Wonder’, which comes from something Albert Einstein had written regarding “the mysterious”. He wrote that “He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead – his eyes are closed.” Well my eyes are open always to the wonders around me, be they as small as the charming coffee served to me in the Beyer watch store on Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich or as large as the majestic mountains which surround the Swiss landscape. Albert Einstein became a Swiss citizen when he was 22; I became a Swiss citizen upon my marriage to a Swiss when I was 25. It is a country that I love and it is full of wonders.

This image is from the Saturday night Mass before Easter, Sabato Santo, which follows Giovedi Santo, Venerdi Santo and proceeds Pasqua – Easter. The whole Lenten period is lived with a greater consciousness of good and evil, of right and wrong, of despair and hope, of suffering and resurrection. As it happens, this Easter period was one in which my brother-in-law Stefano seemed to embody so many of the things we think about now. He has been fighting cancer and had his Doctor’s appointment the Friday before Easter to find out the results of his latest PET scan. It came out clear; he is fine. I thought back to the past year and a half, his suffering certainly a heavy cross for him to bear. At one point, lying on the sofa, with his feeding tube threaded down his nose, weakened and shrunk by heavy doses of chemotherapy and radiation, he looked at me with world-weary eyes and said “I think I would rather have died”. But he came through, and he still carries the heaviest cross of all, the death of his oldest son in a car accident.
The death of a son – on Good Friday one can only think of Jesus and Mary. The power of maternal love, the power of ultimate sacrifice for mankind’s redemption.
As a mother myself, her example is one of one of such strength and tenderness, faith and hope. Pope John Paul said “May each one of us, precisely through the concrete reality of Mary’s universal motherhood, fully acknowledge her as our own mother and trustingly commend ourselves to her maternal love”.
Love is Jesus’ message. That is why our Saturday evening Mass is my favorite Mass of the entire period. We stand in the cobblestoned piazza of our little village church, in the pitch-black of the night, and we light a fire to symbolize that there is light in darkness. Pope Francesco said on Good Friday that Jesus on the Cross teaches us that the last word shall not be “il male” – which in Italian can mean ‘bad’ in a general sweeping way, which is how I prefer it, also is translated as evil,so again, the last word shall not be “il male” but love, mercy and pardon. There are things going on in our life right now that make me pray that those always will be the last words.

Happy Birthday to both my Dad and my little sister Gerry, who share a birthday today.  My Dad is 93 and still charging forward. My precious sister Gerry has gone through a lot of changes lately and has proven herself to be a girl of grit and gumption. She always has been the Doris Day of the family, this beam of cheer and optimism, still looking like a beautiful girl, not the mother of 4  kids, juggling their care along with 2 horses,  and at one point 4 dogs. She has renovated her house nearly single-handedly, doing everything from painting to carpentry. She has a fabulous eye for design; her rooms are beautiful and livable. And now she is making a business out of it.  I am full of admiration for her.

They are celebrating their birthdays with my brother Billy and his wife Ann in Chicago, where my  Dad moved (aged 91) into the same fabulous apartment building as Billy. There was a moment today when I stood still and thought, isn’t tecnology amazing. Billy messaged me from a busy restaurant in the middle of Chicago, I wrote back from the back part of our garden, just at the edge of the woods, listening to the sound of a deer barking fiercely (yes deer bark) from those woods, while our church bells chimed out the hour. It was this thread of communication, vital and instant, connecting two such different worlds.

Here is my back garden, where this friendly fox often comes down from the woods and to sit and visit.
The view from Chicago, with Gerry’s son taking a photo from the terrace of Billy and Ann’s 78th floor apartment.

Yes, it’s another Festa, but this one really makes satisfying sense. Giuseppe is Joseph in English,  and this day celebrating St. Joseph is Father’s Day. Here in this Catholic canton of Ticino, it is a holiday. All schools and shops are closed, but church doors are open for the Holy Mass which took place in every village here. I am part of our little church choir, and today we sang a hymn in San Giuseppe’s honor: One of the stanzas is: “O Padre prudentissimo,/ esempio di sapienza,/ conserva in tutti gli uomini/ giustizia ed innocenza” Oh prudent Father, example of wisdom, preserve in all mankind, justice and innocence.
I was thinking of Wordsworth’s description: “Father! to God himself we cannot give a holier name.” As my husband Giancarlo and I are joined in “holy matrimony”, there does seem to be a sacred nature to the role of Father. Our village priest in his homily today spoke of ‘generating descendants’. Giancarlo has done that with the birth of our two sons, and he has generated a heritage of love and honor, generosity and care.

I always have said that I am so proud to be known as Dr. Zeiler’s daughter. I praise and honor my father, for whom I hold nothing but the highest respect and love and admiration. He worked his way through medical school playing jazz piano, which sums up the marvelous complexity of his personality: the scientific, intellectual, perfectionist high achiever who has the swinging soul of a jazz pianist. He has given all of us, we 5 siblings, such an example of constant love and generosity, constant learning and curiosity, constant drive and dedication, constant determination and diligence. He rose to the top of his profession, becoming President of the American College of Pathologists and then the President of the World Association of Societies of Pathology & Laboratory Medicine. Even now, at 92, he keeps up with all his medical journals as well as The New York Times, the Economist, the Atlantic, the Wall Street Journal. And he always is ready and eager to help when help is needed. I stayed with him in his home in Chicago in November; early one morning I found him at his desk, in his bathrobe, poring over a medical book looking for possible solutions to a close friend’s medical dilemma. His only regret is that my Mother is not here to share his life; she died 23 years ago and that is his, and our, sorrow.

My father’s parents were such loving, solid souls, deeply rooted in religion. I have a card that my Grandmother sent me for my Birthday, the message is that God is Love. We are descendants of love and we carry that forth. To the Fathers in my life, I am grateful.

The traditional Fiera di San Provino took place this week in a blessedly beautiful period of mild temperatures and sunshine. We have had months of rain, with only an occasional day of sun inbetween, so to have had this four day Festa take place  under consistently sunny skies seemed like a miracle.

Like nearly all village events in Switzerland, the Fiera di San Provino dates back centuries. It began in the 15th century as a way to mark the transition from Winter to Spring, and it has its roots as both a religious and agricultural celebration. One version of the San Provino origin has it that the market aspect took on a bigger role centuries ago when the main market in Lugano was closed due to fear of the plague and animal- spread contagion. Therefore the market was transferred outside of the city to Agno.

The religious aspect of the Fiera still remains; the Santa Messa, holy Mass, is held late Saturday afternoon, followed by a procession through the town center with the busta di San Provino, a wooden box apparently containing a piece of bone from Saint Provino. This year the Sunday Mass was officiated by our new Bishop Valerio.

But for the hundreds that attend the 4 day fair, it is all the other attractions which draw their attendence. Food is chief among them.
Befitting its lakeside location, pesciolini fritti, fried little fish, is one of the most popular and traditional food choices, with long lines of people waiting to get their box of fish.

It really is a celebration of Ticino traditions, with a variety of products exhibited, from cheese and salami to hand-carved wooden objects.
But what would a Fiera di San Provino be without its most famous item: Ravioli di San Provino!
You only get them once a year at the Fair, and it is a top-secret recipe. They are a sweet, fried ravioli, with a filling revealed only as containing amaretti, prunes and cedro, a citrus type fruit. Served hot and sprinkled with powdered sugar, one bites into the crunch of the pasta and on into the soft, sweet filling. I’ve never tasted anything like them; they’re fantastic.

Of course there must be amusements for the children.
A good time was had by all. There was lots of talking, laughing, looking, eating, and even listening – to the great band which added just the right jolly note.

My neighbor, Edoardo, known to family and friends as Dado, took advantage of an unusually Spring-like day to begin his work on our vines. As he separates and holds one branch at a time, he explains to me that he is cutting away last year’s growth to make way for the new growth this coming year as well as the year after. So with a clip of his cutters, the heavy, gnarled branch which had yielded plump purple grapes last September is cut and put aside.  Tilting his head in assessment, he assuredly cuts away all the other smaller vines which surround the few that he has selected to keep.  He then positions those promising branches for this year and next year, stretching them out along the supporting wire, taking a step back to make sure that he has left them enough space to grow.  “Ieri, oggi e domani” , yesterday, today and tomorrow, he says as he works the vines, seemingly holding time in his hands.

The beginning of Lent always causes me to pause and reflect, to push a little deeper, to think a little harder. My twin sister Mary sent me an e-mail on Ash Wednesday with a passage from the Catholic nun Sister Joan Chittister, who wrote: ” Lent is the opportunity to change what we ought to change but have not…Lent is about becoming, doing and changing whatever it is that is blocking the fullness of life in us right now…Lent is a summons to live anew…Lent is the time to let life in again, to rebuild the worlds we’ve allowed to go sterile, to “fast and weep and mourn” for the goods we’ve foregone. If our own lives are not to die from lack of nourishment, we must sacrifice the pride or the sloth or the listlessness that blocks us from beginning again. Then, as Joel (2:12-18) promises, God will have pity on us and pour into our hearts the life we know down deep that we are lacking. ”

So just as Dado with a snip cut away last year, looking to future growth, so will I push forward, with a renewed lenten recognition of the underlying support which my faith provides.

The magical closing ceremony of the Winter Olympics was directed by the SWISS-ITALIAN Daniele Finzi Pasca.

Both the BBC and the LATimes misidentified Mr. Pasca as Italian. The man the Russians chose to give a “fresh look” to the ceremony comes from tiny Ticino.

(all photos are from the Compagnia Finzi Pasca website)
He also will be creating and directing the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics in Sochi.

Daniele Finzi Pasca is an extremely well-regarded theater director; he founded the Teatro Sunil in the early ’80s, together with his brother Marco and Maria Bonzanigo, calling their theater technique “theatre of the caress”. Pasca’s ‘Icaro’has been translated into six languages and performed hundreds of times all over the world. In 2005, he wrote and directed the Cirque du Soleil’s show ‘Corteo”, which apparently has been seen by more than 3 million people. His Compagnia Finzi Pasca has put on a variety of theater and opera productions, and his first movie, ‘Piazza San Michele’ is in the works. All of his productions are known for their artistic excellence: when I think of them I think of whimsy and soaring creativity. I am fascinated by the Swiss who make their way into the world, and in Mr. Pasca’s case, quite literally play on the world stage.

On their way

The Carnevale Season has started again in Switzerland. It’s basically a pre-Lenten celebration, but the span of events run from weeks ahead of Ash Wednesday to weeks after. The Basel Fasnacht is the largest and probably most famous of all Swiss Carnevale and that begins the Monday following Ash Wednesday. In Ticino it is a festive period, with every single community – all 135 of them – organizing their own Carnevale. Pura’s festivities took place last weekend. My favorite part of it is on Friday, when the entire school, which in Pura means the kindergarden and 1-5 elementary classes, empties out in costume to parade through our little village.

They wind their way through the ‘nucleo’ and head to the soccer field where under a giant tent lunch is served for both the children and elders of Pura.