Traveling to Switzerland - Sept 18/19

It was one of those special days when I took pleasure in reminding myself that this experience was really happening. All the doubts about whether we would actually make the trip vanished -- and the only doubts that remained were whether I had made acceptable choices about the logistics. A tinge of sadness accompanied our otherwise happy departure as we said our goodbyes to Deb and mom. It would be an even happier day when we might someday begin such a trip all together.

It had been my choice to drive to LAX rather than flying as dad had encouraged -- mostly because I hoped it would be a more relaxing start to the trip to not have to worry about airline delays and inter-airline connections. I must also admit that a part of my motivation for planning to drive to LAX had been to minimize the financial impact of having to cancel the trip should that have happened. In hindsight I was overly cautious, but as the departure day approached I decided that we might also take advantage of the driving trip to make a few additional stops related to our journey.

Our first stop was the mausoleum in San Luis Obispo where my paternal grandparents are buried. My reflections extended both to pleasure of beginning the trip by visiting those who are my very connection to Swiss heritage and to sadness: knowing that "Nana" never got to return to her birthplace after she was a teenager and that my "Grandad," born in Australia, never visited Switzerland. Nana and Grandad are in side-by-side crypts in the mausoleum not far from the crypt for the bodies of my brothers Dale and Henry. Dale, my parent's second child, died at age seven from appendicitis complications and Henry, born sixth (after me and before Mark) died within hours of his birth having been born without the top to his skull. Visiting there has always brought reflections of the fragile and seemingly random nature of life itself -- a place where all of life's usual irritations, complications, disappointments, angers, find their appropriately insignificant place in my thoughts.

Next stop was in the town of Guadalupe where dad was born and raised until his parents moved to Greenfield when he was in 7th grade. While I had been to Guadalupe before, this is the first time I had visited with dad -- and it was fun and informative. We talked about his paternal grandmother moving to Guadalupe from the nearby homesteaded Pt. Sal property, and passed by the location of his first home and first school, and discussed his dad's ownership of a car repair "garage," and service as constable and on the school board. Guadalupe is to dad what Gordevio was to his mom -- his birthplace and first hometown. The difference is that today there is no Tognazzini/Giorgi connection in Guadelupe except in the Guadalupe cemetary which we also visited. There we visited the graves of dad's grandparents, Noe and Maria Tognazzini. Maria's maiden surname was Zanolli. Her mother, also Maria Zanolli, is also buried there along with several other related Tognazzini's including some of dad's uncles.

The entire trip to LAX was relaxing as we had allowed ourselves plenty of time -- even stopping near Carpinteria to enjoy some salami and cheese that Deb had packed for us along with a milkshake. We arrived in plenty of time to proceed through the labrynth of check in and security without any "airport behavior" -- a description my children created to describe my sometimes too common display of tension and anxiety that accompanies "getting through" the mess that airline travel requires. I'm pleased to report that neither dad nor I displayed any "airport behavior" and we were sitting at the gate with plenty of time to "people watch." And while we couldn't avoid the officiousness and inefficient security checks, my online check-in allowed us to skip Swiss Air's long economy line and be checked in without delay through the "business" check-in line. Boarding and departure was ontime with a full flight -- and though our seating space reminded us that we were in economy seats, the service of two meals and complimentary alcohol was a step above the usual domestic airline flight service. The plane (an Airbus 340) was outfitted with individual video displays/controllers with an abundance of individually controllable movies, music, documentaries, video games and flight information with both forward looking and downward looking camera displays. These devices gave plenty of distraction when we weren't trying to catch a little sleep in the 10 hour flight (favorable winds allowed us to shorten the trip by about an hour). A "little" sleep is about all we got.

Arrival in Zurich could not have been more pleasant. Here we enjoyed a beautiful and spacious airport, luggage arrival before we had walked from the gate to baggage claim and quick, almost cursory, examination of our passports and no customs inspection as we self-selected a "no declarations" aisle. Car rental service was immediate and we were navigating the nearby roads within a half hour of landing. Thanks to my trusty GPS, we quickly made our way -- about 139 miles -- to Gordevio through the Gotthard pass and tunnels -- including the main one which extends approximately 13 miles (sort of like driving from Morro Bay to San Luis in a tunnel). The views were spectacular.

We arrived in Gordevio at around 7:30pm (our bodies were reminding us that it was 10:30am -- approximately 24 hours since leaving home with only a little more than an hour of "sleep" -- if you can call it sleep when you are cramped into a tiny airline seat. We were greeted warmly by Vittorio and Giuseppina with whom dad seemed to speak fluently without difficulty. An hour of good conversation and a little "vino" and we made our way to bed. I heard the bell on the church ring 10 times just before I fell asleep -- thinking just for a moment that it was likely that both my Nana and my grandad's mother heard the same church bell when they were growing up here.