All is calm on Locarno’s Piazza Grande, until a boy in an AC Milan strip boots a football on to our cafe table. Crash go the cups of espresso macchiato. Mamma mia! ‘Scusate signori!’ pleads the wee culprit. I kick his ball back before we stroll down to the waterfront, passing chic shops under colonnades. People are scooting about on Vespas, licking giant gelati and chatting away in Italian. We have just arrived in Ticino, Switzerland’s southernmost canton and the only one in which the language, culture and sunny spirit are all Italian. The magnificent lakes Maggiore and Lugano reach deep into both countries and are the region’s main tourism draw. However, for my wife Hennie and me, the allure lies in the forested hills and hidden valleys of the hinterland. Ticino has an excellent network of waymarked footpaths, and we are on a week-long, self-guided walking holiday between the lakes.