CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I worked hard to get us across the lake as quickly as I could. After a few hours, my hands were in terrible pain and it became difficult to keep hold of the oars. We completely missed Pallanza. I expected to see some lights, but there was nothing but darkness along the lake. I was so afraid of getting lost or rowing in the wrong direction, that I kept the boat close to land the whole night. Several times, we were almost thrown against huge rocks. The boat would surely have sunk and we would have had nowhere to go. Catherine remained wrapped up in a blanket at the front of the boat. From time to time she gave me drinks from the bottle of wine that the barman had given us. She even offered to give me a break and row herself for a while, but I thought it might be dangerous for the baby, so I never accepted her offer.

Eventually, the Swiss mountains came into view. We still had eight kilometers to go. The sky was starting to brighten a little and I feared that the Italian border police would easily see us. I decided to row further away from land. Luckily, they did not seem to be looking.

My hands were really hurting now and I felt that I could not row us any further. Catherine then got an idea. She handed me the umbrella the doorman had given us and told me to open it and use it to catch the wind. She then put one of the oars in the water and guided us as the wind pushed us along. For a while, this worked brilliantly, but then the umbrella suddenly broke and whipped me in the face. Catherine laughed, but I was in too bad a mood to think anything was funny. And, besides, I now would have to row the rest of the way.

Catherine insisted on giving me a rest by rowing a little herself. She convinced me that it would be good exercise for her. While resting, I ate a sandwich and had a couple of big drinks from the wine bottle. I felt a thousand times better.

Once I began to row again, the rain started to come down more heavily, and daylight was beginning to show itself. I worked harder than ever now. Switzerland was so close that I could clearly see each tree now and there were houses up in the hills that started to come into view.

Just then, Catherine said, "Do you hear that?" I stopped rowing for a minute and listened. The sound of a boat engine could be heard. Seconds later, an Italian police boat suddenly came from behind a group of rocks near land. I could see four policemen inside, with guns hanging from their shoulders. Catherine and I did not move a muscle. Fortunately, they were still pretty sleepy and did not notice us. Their boat soon disappeared behind another group of rocks and I immediately began to row again.

After forty-five minutes, we saw a soldier walking on land. He was clearly Swiss. He looked right at us. We did not know what to do right away. Catherine waved to him and I did the same. He looked our way for a moment and then waved back to us, seeming a little embarrassed.

"Do you think there will be any Italians in the customs office?" Catherine asked, "There usually are."

"Not now, while the war is going on," I answered.

In just a few more minutes, I rowed us up to land. I then tied it to a nearby tree and pulled Catherine up onto the shores of Switzerland. We had made it.

Nearby was a beautiful little village. The mountains that surrounded it added even more to its beauty. Catherine and I both felt wonderful. Everything seemed perfect, even the rain.

"I can't believe we are here!" Catherine shouted.

"Neither can I!"

The first thing we did was go to a little café in the village. We ordered a big breakfast and talked excitedly while we ate.

"You know," Catherine said, "Our good mood will soon be interrupted by the Swiss police, when they come to take us both to jail."

"But we're not Italians. We can't get into too much trouble for being here."

After breakfast, we returned to our boat and found a soldier standing there, waiting for us. We admitted to him that the boat was ours. He asked us to grab our bags and follow him.

At the customs building an officer interviewed us.

"Why have you come to Switzerland from across the lake there?" he asked.

"We love skiing, so we came to the best place in the world to do it," I answered.

"What were you doing in Italy?"

"We were both students. I studied architecture and my cousin here studied painting."

He left the room for a moment and then came back to tell us that we must be taken to the town of Locarno. He then looked carefully through each of our bags. When he found the bottle of wine, I offered him a drink of it. He refused. Once he found out that we both had a good amount of money with us, he became friendlier to us.

"If you really enjoy skiing, I would suggest going to Wengen. My family has a nice ski hotel up there." He handed me a card with his father's name on it.

We were then taken to Locarno to apply for visas. Even though our excuse for being there was obviously a lie, the visa office did not give us any difficulties.

"Where shall we go, dear?" asked Catherine.

"I would recommend Montreux," said the visa officer, "It's very beautiful there."

"Does it have good skiing up there?" I asked.

"Absolutely," he answered.

"Absolutely not," replied another officer.

"What are you talking about? I should know Montreux. I come from there!"

"Fine, but there's no good skiing there."

"Don't argue with me! I know my hometown better than you do!"

"Fine, fine, fine. I still disagree entirely, but ... fine."

I interrupted their argument and told them that my cousin and I had to get going, for she needed some rest. We thanked them for their suggestions and said that we would probably head for Montreux.

We got into a carriage and asked the driver to take us to a good hotel. On the way there, our excitement slowly went away as we began to doubt the reality of our situation.

"Are we dreaming?" asked Catherine. "Am I going to wake up tomorrow and find myself alone in my bed in Milan?"

"Oh ... Jesus! Don't say that! I was just thinking the same thing. What a horrible thought!"

"I'm really sleepy now."

"You've had a difficult night, my dear. I'm sorry about that."

"Please. You don't have to apologize. It was fun!"

I was no longer thinking clearly. To make sure we weren't being taken to the Italian police, I asked the driver to remind me where we were going.

"The Hotel Metropole. Isn't that right?" he asked.

"Excellent. Yes. Keep driving. Thank you."

(end of section)