Before the Debauchery

This is Carnivale weekend. No, I am not going to Venice as I had wished, I'll be spending my evenings in Bellinzona all weekend. However it occured to me that I should take some time as I'm staying local to mention some cultural differences between Swiss and Americans.

There are some who will tell you that no one wears jeans abroad, and the fastest way to be marked as an American is to wander about in your favorite Levis. Well, that's just silly. Everyone wears jeans; however, Europeans do not wear flares, or anything beyond a very tight bootcut. Those straight leg-skinny jeans are very common, and easily tucked into your knee-high boots. As my jeans happen to have some flare to the cuff, I'm easily marked as an American in any crowd.

Swiss music is written predominantly in English. I understand, based entirely on a film about the 2006 Ticino Olympics, that the lingua franca of the world is currently English. Quite an achievement in Switzerland, which has four national languages (German, French, Italian, Romansch) and none are English. Still, this goes back to the issue faced by the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest. I refer to the winning song by pop super-group ABBA, who wrote in English, rather than the native Swedish. The resulting brou-haha about language qualifications ensured that everyone could write in English for maximum appeal.
Which is why I spent an hour in Bern watching Swiss bands sing in English. Best part? Generic music video backgrounds. Back in the States I could watch the morning block of music videos on VH1 and be guaranteed to see at least one abandoned factory, one farm, and one city street. Over here: Alps. Everything, no matter the song, includes one scene of the band by a mountain lake, with the ever-present Alps behind. Pretty much the greatest thing ever.

And then there's veal. I've had three meals centered around veal at the Villa. Which would be some sort of awful ethical and moral dilemma back home. But really? Baby cow is delicious. I get to eat a rabbit later this week. The food here is a whole different blog post, but in case I never mentioned it, Luigi is a genius.

As a preview of next week...I have finalized plans. I shall be staying at the Villa Saint-Expurey in Nice, and spending the entirety of 9 Feb. celebrating the birthday of my roommate. By loudly singing:
As I walk along the Bois Boolong
With an independent air
You can hear the girls declare
"He must be a Millionaire."
You can hear them sigh and wish to die,
You can see them wink the other eye
At the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo.