Per Barca, per Treni, e per Macchina

This morning was a beautiful morning on Lake Como. We awoke around 7 (after the 4am wakeup, during which I amended yesterday's offering, which I see nearly everyone has looked at again. I hope it made sense in real life, and wasn't 4am jumbled thinking.) We needed an early getaway for a 9 o'clock ferry. Looking out over the lake, it was beautifully misty around the tops of the mountains, but we could see the other side of the lake. I put on a longer sleeved top on the assumption that it would stay misty and cool for a while, and later I might change into a lighter t-shirt. But as we had breakfast, still looking out over the lake, it became clear that I wouldn't need long sleeves. You could see that there was blue sky through the mist, and it wouldn't take long to burn off at all.

Morning view, Lake Como, looking north

I say we could see the mountains, and that is already lovely to be able to write, as all the best Victorian and Edwardian novels seemed to have characters who climbed or walked these mountains, or stayed in a grand hotel on the lake, and now I have the image more exactly in my mind. I am a bit sad that the scenery is actually almost as I expected. It seems a shame that the internet showed me so well what it would be like. However, there are more villages than I had realised, and up close, they are interesting to see. Also about the mountains: I was quite excited when Valentina called them the Alps yesterday. It's the very beginning of the range, so we would have to go a lot further along to see the more spectacular peaks, but still. All my life we've talked of the Southern Alps, which I suppose I've thought of as being the Alps Jnr, or Alps Lite TM  and I hadn't consciously realized (even though I knew geographically) that we would be this close to the real live ones. I certainly didn't think I would get excited by that little fact!

So I got changed, we packed up our backpacks, and set out for the ferry departure point. We walked down most of the same way we walked up last night, with no mistakes but choosing our steps carefully. Many of the paths are cobbled with round-topped stones set several centimetres apart, and my shoe soles are starting to feel a little thin. We took the 9.05 down and across the lake to Villa Carlotta, a beautiful 18th century house with gardens. The trip took nearly an hour, but it was a delightful way to start the day. Several of the towns we called at had wonderful examples of those Victorian and Edwardian grand hotels (often called the [insert name here] Grand Hotel).

Villa Carlotta

Villa Carlotta was a holiday home for the rich and famous and royal in the 18th and 19th centuries. The gardens were taken very seriously from 1850 onwards, by the eponymous Carlotta's husband, who stayed on there after she died at 23 (in childbirth, after several pregnancies and bearing four sons), and now there are 7000 different varieties of plants there. Says the brochure. We didn't actually look much at the gardens, since yesterday's villa visit had fully sated that need, such as it was. But we looked through the house, and were glad to see that one floor, at least, had retained or been refurnished in the style to which it was accustomed. (The other floors' rooms were just showing off artworks and sculptures.) Carlotta's bedroom was recreated, and there was also the dining room, parlour, library, and so on. I'm sure they weren't quite as fully furnished as the residents of the time would have preferred, but an effort had been made. Afterwards we spent a few minutes listening to a small orchestra playing in the garden, to an audience of 50 or so. It was an experience to revel in: here we were, on the shores of Lake Como, in a beautiful scented garden, on a gorgeous day (look at that blue sky) listening to live music (albeit orchestrally-arranged Abba). How to forget your worries in four easy steps. 

Orchestra and audience

From the villa we had to walk to the next ferry terminal, as we needed to catch a fast ferry which left from a larger, more important terminal than the one serving... a house. It was all of 600 metres up the road, in Tremezzo, and instead of about an hour and a half, the hydrofoil took us to the town of Como in about 40 minutes. I had hoped to see a bit of Como, since it's what most people talk about when they talk of seeing Lake Como, but in fact, we just walked from the port to the train station. It would have been nice if something had attracted our attention. or there had been somewhere nice to have lunch, but no, there was nothing in that kilometre. To be fair, it was mostly parkland, so quite a pleasant walk, but we had to have lunch at the station. Yes! Lunch was a ham panini.

The train to Milan took an hour. For the first time, we bought a ticket at the machine at the station, instead of booking and paying online on my phone. It was much cheaper than we expected, and we wondered fleetingly about going 1st class, but then thought, nah. On board, we found seats and had a comfortable trip, and the ticket inspector finally came into the carriage as we were nearly into Milan. He looked at the tickets of an Australian couple in the seats across the aisle, and said, "These tickets are for 2nd class. This is 1st class. You have to pay extra." Oh, we thought. And also, "Oh," we heard, from another Australian couple sitting opposite us. None of us had realized we were getting on a 1st class carriage, nor recognized that this was any better than our normal mode of travel. It cost us all an extra 13.20Euros per two tickets. But it had been a comfortable trip.

Then there was some mucking about at Milano Centrale station, because the apartment is some way out of town and you need a different line. We didn't want Filippo to have to be our taxi, but there are no taxis out here, apparently, so he came to pick us up when we finally got to his neck of the woods. We had an hour or so before we headed out again, this time in separate directions. I was going into the city with Valentina, for some shopping and an aperitif, and Stephen was going with Filippo to a football match (AC Milan vs Atalanta at San Siro stadium.)

Modern Milan

Me first. Valentina wanted to show me Milan old and new. We parked outside the city centre and took the Metro in, and came up at a big bright modern plaza, rather than piazza, with bars and shops and fountains surrounded by curved glass-and-steel high-rises. We walked through and past a few more modern corporate buildings, then descended into the old part of the city, which looked more like most of the other cities we've seen: 3-4 storey buildings, the Mediterranean hues of ochres and terracottas, shuttered windows with window boxes. At first the streets were considerably wider than other cities' have been, but we walked down some narrow cobble-stoned ones too.  Many of the shops at first were expensive designer names, but there were some others, and I managed to buy a reasonably-priced pair of shoes. We also visited a place called Eataly, related somehow to the gourmet burger place we ate at one night in Verona (I saw a staff member with the same t-shirt, and the word "Eataly" was in that restaurant's name too). Here it was a big food market, with the best fresh fruit and vegetables, seafood, meat, wine, and processed food Italy can provide.  Its three floors used to be a theatre, and they sometimes have live music concerts. Me, I bought some fridge magnets.

Eataly food market

Valentina and I finally stopped at a bar for an aperitif, because at this establishment, that means you get a platter of finger foods. A couple of times Stephen and I have decided to do as the Italians do, and have a cool sophisticated aperitif before dinner, but when we've found a place and plumped ourselves down,  all we've wanted has been a beer. (Last night was an exception. We were cool and sophisticated last night. Campari and soda, and a Hugo spritzer. Mmmm. Cool.) (I had a Hugo in Venice: mint and lime, and I can't remember what alcohol. Not sure that last night's was anything like that, actually.) Anyway, I was relieved to see that Valentina ordered a beer, so that still comes under the heading of aperitif. I had a Bellini (peach + sparkling wine.) The platter is pictured. Apart from the prosciutto and the cheese, I'm not sure what most of the rest was. Little pastry savouries and some frittata-y things. And home-made freshly fried potato crisps.

Aperitif

Just as we were leaving, at 8.30 or so, Stephen texted to say they were just leaving the stadium. The game had been a 2-2 draw, and Filippo's little boys were holding back the tears. (Filippo himself is actually an Inter Milan fan, so he was quite happy. But he couldn't show his kids that.) Stephen said it was a great night. He texted me at 6 (kick-off time) just to say "Wow!!" The atmosphere, the noise, the emotions, everything was so intense, with 50,000 fans there, even in an 80,000 seater stadium. This was just an ordinary league game, not a final, nothing riding on it yet, just another game.  But this is football in Italy, and Stephen was over the moon to have been part of it.

So we both left our respective outings at the same time, but I was home nearly an hour before him. I'd had enough to eat but he rustled up something up for himself and now is in bed. I will be too, soon. Good night!